Better Scavengers [FICTION]

“I am so glad you all made it out for tonight’s activity. I know we advertised it as a couple’s activity, but that was so we could guarantee equal numbers for our teams. Tonight, it is the ladies versus the gents in a scavenger hunt.” Janine announced proudly.

Most of the men groaned. I rolled my eyes. My best friend grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed tightly.

“Each team will be given a copy of the list. The teams can decide how to approach it. Earl and I will be sitting out since we devised this hunt, but good luck to the rest of you. Separate into teams and let’s get started.” 

We quickly divided into groups. As the girls congregated on one side of the room, the men wandered off to the other like an awkward junior high dance. When we were appropriately distanced, Janine handed the girls copies of the list and Earl handed a couple to the guys. As our husbands leaned their heads together, the wives turned to our usual leader Rose. Her eyebrows tried to touch as she stared at the list.

“Looks like we each need to find five items to get this done as quickly as possible.” She began folding and tearing the paper until she had a slip of paper for each of us.

As she handed me the last slip, I scanned it quickly. The first four items were easy: a softball, a hard-boiled egg, a team t-shirt, and a magnet with a name on it. The fifth one had me looking up at our illustrious planners with suspicion. They couldn’t know that my mother had an autographed copy of Stephen King’s “Carrie” or that she guarded it more rigorously than the four carat anniversary band my father bought her for their fortieth wedding anniversary.

“Get going, girls. I want everyone back here as soon as possible.”

I raced off toward my house. Twenty minutes later, I had passed the first four items off to Rose who lived across the street from me and assured her I was off to find my last item. She nodded understanding as she mumbled something about hoping she could be as confident about finding her last item. I laughed at that and rushed to my car.

By car, my mother’s house is usually five minutes away. Somehow it took me only two minutes. I raced to the door, trying to regulate my breathing before my mom answered the door. I almost succeeded.

“Betty,” my mother smiled and enfolded me in a hug.

“Hi, mom.”

“What you brings you to see me? And breathless? Don’t you have that couples night thing at church tonight?”

“I do.” I nodded. “That is kind of why I am here.”

“Oh?” I saw all the worst case scenarios beginning to spin behind her eyes.

“No, mother. Nothing is wrong. We are doing a scavenger hunt…”

“Do you need knitting needles. You know I have tons of those.”

“No. I need you to trust me.”

Her eyes widened. “If you try to blindfold me…”

“No. We weren’t told to kidnap a parent. I need to borrow something I think you might be less willing to lend to me for the sake of a game.”

She read the inflection in my voice and her hand covered her heart. “Not “Carrie”?”

“Please, mom.”

“You know how long I had to stand in line to get his autograph.”

“I know, mom. No one but me will touch it.”

“No one but me will touch it. I guess they wanted you to kidnap a parent after all.” She stepped into the living room to grab the book and placed it inside a large ziplock bag. “Let’s go.”

When we walked into the room, I was the last wife to return. Molly’s husband hadn’t returned yet, so I let out a gasp of air I didn’t realize I had held. The ladies turned to me excitedly. As I stepped toward them with my mother’s hand gripping mine, the door opened behind me. 

“Carlo get over here.” The men cheered him on.

My mother and I sprinted to the table where Janine meticulously compared her master list to the items on the table. She even picked up my hard-boiled egg and cracked it. I bit my lip since I had rushed making it a little. I breathed a sigh of relief when she revealed a solid yolk.

“Good job.” She congratulated our team, as my mother held out the final item for her inspection. “You were only missing the horseshoe nail.”

All female eyes turned toward the men as Earl poured over their offerings. 

Rose piped up, voicing the question eating at us. “How are you gentlemen doing over there?”

Earl looked up at her with mock disapproval. “Shh. Don’t interrupt the judging.”

He picked up their hard-boiled egg and cracked it. Yolk and white splattered his shoes. He frowned in disapproval and shook his head. “With this mess and the fact that they are missing the book signed by the author, they are short tow items. How did the ladies do?”

“They can cook an egg but none of them had access to the stables, so they win by one.” Janine intoned dramatically.

“Oh come on. Who had a signed book?”

At the question, my mother hugged her plastic clad treasure closer to her chest.

“Oh. Betty ran to mommy.” One of the husbands teased.

My own husband looked down at his hands to try to hide the wry smile on his face. I shook my head at him. He grinned wider and offered a sly wink. My mother turned to me then and patted my arm. 

“Thank you for letting me tag along, dear. It is a good daughter who makes time for her mother.” She turned her most disapproving glare on the husband who had spoken. “Call me sometime.”

With her previous book clutched to her chest, she disappeared out the door. Janine watched the door close slowly behind her and then turned back toward the two groups.

“We forgot to tell you what the prize is, aside from knowing you have defeated your spouses at finding a random selection of items as quickly as possible. We managed to arrange for a small party for twelve at the Lizard Lounge.”

The women began jumping up and down excitedly because the Lizard Lounge is famous for its sundae bar with every imaginable topping and then some. The men looked down at the ground sadly because it is also known for its steak and fries platters. The women leaned in to discuss the best day to claim their reward.

“You realize she said party of twelve?” I whispered.

“Who should we take?” Rose grinned.

“That depends, do you think we can get baby-sitters for the kids?” Jane asked.

“My mother is always willing to watch her grandkids,” I replied.

The others giggled and joyfully reported that their mothers and mothers-in-law also wouldn’t mind a little more time snuggling their grandchildren.

“Bless the Nanas, Mimis, and Grandmas,” we all agreed.

Janine leaned in to whisper to our circle. “So who are you going to share your winnings with?”

“Our husbands and you and Earl, of course.” Rose replied as if there had been no question.

“Shall I tell them?” Janine asked.

“Oh, we’d like to do that.”

As we broke up our huddle, our husbands looked at us suspiciously. We sashayed over to them. I wrapped my arms around the neck of my own husband and leaned in to whisper to him.

“I’d like you to be my guest as I celebrate our big win.”

He grinned from ear to ear. A quick glance around our party revealed that everyone had received the good news.

“And now to see when all of the grandparents want a little extra grandchild time.” Rose intoned as we reclaimed our items (except the eggs) and headed for the door.

~~Hope you all have fun plans for the weekend. One last weekend of June to enjoy with your loved ones whether they be spouses or pets or favorite shows…or this blog. You all reread my posts all the time, right?~~

Happy Father’s Day [FICTION]

“I’d love to come over, but my dad just asked for the most complicated cake for Father’s Day.”

Addison sighs on her end of the phone. “Grace…”

“I know I promised, but this will take me all weekend.”

“What kind of cake is it?” 

Inspiration strikes. “Come on over and find out.”

I race into the kitchen, digging through my recipes for a couple of cakes, my favorite fudge brownies, two cheesecakes, and cherry pie. By the time Addison arrives, I have them carefully laid out on the counter. I also have a shopping list that could take me half a day to fill.

~

“Why do you have so many recipe cards out?” Addison looks suspiciously at my selections. “You said he told you what he wanted. Why are you still deciding?”


“Well, he couldn’t exactly decide. Then I saw some videos on social media…”

“Oh. You should never watch those.”

“I know, but now he doesn’t have to decide what type of cake he wants. He just has to find a dozen friends to help him eat the twenty-five pound monstrosity I am going to make.”

“Fine. Tell me about it.”

I describe three layers of delicious— cheesecake in a chocolate cake, cherry pie in a French vanilla cake, and caramel cheesecake in a rich fudge brownie.

“That is insane…”

“And will be insanely delicious…”

“You are going to get the daughter of the year award…”

“I always do.” We grin at each other since I am an only child.

“Think you can sneak me a piece for my dad?”

“Only if you help me with this.”

“We could use my kitchen,” Addison offers.

“Um, no.”

“Come on. You have to make up with Bianca sometime.”

“Nope.”

“He chose you.”

“Yeah, but she still tried to steal him from me.”

She nods and picks up my shopping list. ‘Well, then we better get to work on this so I can finally knock her off her pedestal as best daughter.”

~~

We spend the next two days working on the masterpiece. Each filling needs baked and cooled. Then carefully inserted into a cake and baked again. After more cooling, I realize I forgot to decide on a frosting to hold the layers together. We agree on a mix of fudge and white chocolate fudge frosting.

We apply the final layer and smooth it out. I step back to get a better look.

“I don’t think it is going to hold up…” Addison whispers.

“I was afraid of that, but I have these,” I whisper back as I open the cabinet where I hid blue baker’s boxes. “We are going to slice it and divvy it up. That way my dad will never know I paid you in cake.”

“And my father’s love?”

“I can only hope.” I smile at her.


“Want to come see Bianca’s face?”

“Nope. Take a picture. Today is about our dads. I will worry about your sister on Halloween.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Everyone knows she is a witch.”

~~

As my dad open the pastry box, his eyes widen. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah?” I grin at him.

“This is the best—everything I wanted…”

“So I am still your favorite?”

“Always.” He reached out with his free arm to pull me into a powerful half hug.

“I see you made plenty so I can share with the boys.” He eyes the pile of boxes.

“You know I wouldn’t let you down. Your annual Father’s Day poker tournament goes better with refreshments.”

“Yeah. Though I might not share with the guys trying to up the ante with this year’s tie.” He grins and dips a for into one of the layers of cake.

His eyes roll back in delight as the flavors explode on his tongue.

~~Yes, I realized it as I was typing. There is a deeper story here. I know. I should explore it and expand it. I need to find the time. I should pick my friend’s brain who has finished three novels in a year (among other projects I just learned of today), but I don’t want to stop her flow. Send me PM if you like Jane Austin and I will give you more information.~~

Feeling Crabby [FICTION]

Our first vacation in ten years! I finally talked my husband into taking me to the beach. He picked a resort known for its private beach and all inclusive meals. Of course, he only managed to find one day off, so we have two days to soak up some sun, dip our feet in salt water, and lounge on the sand. 

We arrived just in time for dinner on Friday. After a filling meal selected from the variety on the buffet, we went back to our private cabin to snuggle and promptly fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I woke up the next morning with a need to step into some waves, but my husband talked me into a light breakfast first. I tried to make up for the previous evening’s debauchery by eating a bowl of oatmeal and a pear. My husband loaded up on bacon and eggs and even had Belgian waffles for breakfast dessert. Needless to say, he refused to cooperate when I asked him to accompany me to the private beach. I matched his relaxed pace as we returned to our room.

He plopped down in front of the television and grumbled to himself as he interpreted the card detailing the cable service. I disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the suit I purchased just for this trip. We might be a long way from France, but when I saw an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini, I couldn’t resist buying it.

Luckily for me, the moment my husband saw it, he couldn’t resist joining me at the beach. Of course, even my magical swimwear couldn’t make his stomach feel any less like a lead ball had taken up residence, so I lost him somewhere in the hallways. As I reached the beach, I stared at the sparkling golden sand in wonder. The wonder began to fade as the silence of my surroundings suddenly sank into my mind.

I looked up and down the beach. I saw chairs, blankets, and towels set up for many sunbathers but no other humans in sight. Instead, my eyes finally adjusted to the gleaming sand enough to realize much of the sand was actually golden crabs skittering sideways across the sand. As waves crashed on the shore, I realized that they populated the surf as well.

I stared at them, wondering where they had come from and where the other beach goers had gone. I heard a familiar whoop. I turned to see my husband running toward the surf without a stitch of clothing on.

“Roderick!” I exclaimed. 

Instead of responding, he continued running toward the ocean. As he reached the waterline, extra arms formed below and above his. The ones above turned into pinchers that snapped at the air as he shrunk down to be lost among the other golden crabs upon the shore. I rushed toward him, but couldn’t distinguish one crab from another. None of them seemed to like me. As dozens of pinchers turned toward me, snapping at the flesh of my ankles, I turned back toward the resort. I half expected to be hampered by a transformation of my own, but my legs carried me back to the concierge in record time.

He smiled pleasantly, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“My husband…” I gasped, “turned into a crab.”

“Oh. Did he eat the special crab waffles this morning?”

“Maybe?”

“Then he will be done with his transformative experience around noon and ready for lunch.”

“What?” I blinked at him, as if using Morse code to beg for a better answer.

“Just relax, ma’am. We have a few waffles left or you could make a visit to the spa.” He offered helpfully.

“I don’t know.” I turned back to the door.

“The spa treatments are free and your husband is completely safe.” He snapped his fingers and a bellhop came over to us. “The young lady needs a massage and some relaxing aromatherapy. Her husband opted for the crab waffles at breakfast.”

The bellhop nodded and gently took my arm. “Come with me. Stephanie is our best massage therapist and she just happens to be free.”

I followed him down the corridor to the spa, where a dark-haired woman took my hand and guided me to a room. After much debate, she convinced me that the massage would go better if I at least stripped down to my undergarments. She turned away to add something to a diffuser as I prepared myself and slipped under a large towel on the massage table.

Thirty minutes later, I agreed with the bellhop about Stephanie’s magic hands that I needed to make time for another massage during our stay. Of course, my completely relaxed muscles began to tense up again as I exited the spa and headed back toward my room. I didn’t think to check the time until I noticed the clock above the bed. 

“Almost noon.” I breathed a hopeful sigh and turned back around.

The concierge smiled and gave me a thumbs up as I hurried past him. Soon my footsteps brought me back to the beach, where my husband lazed happily in the sun on the chair I had dropped earlier. I raced across the sand to fall down next to him. 

“Roderick, I’m so glad you are yourself again.”

“And I am glad you came back.”

“Oh, how sweet.”

“Sweet and selfish.” When I looked at him quizzically, he explained with downcast eyes. “This towel doesn’t quite cover everything.”

“Oh?” I remembered watching his naked dash to the beach before he morphed into a crab.

He took my hand and drew me to his right side as he stood up, clutching the ends of the towel to keep them as close together as possible. “I’m glad you really intended to swim this morning or this would be even more embarrassing.”

“Good thing you weren’t the only one who got crabby today.” I offered as we fell into line with other guests with averted eye and makeshift modesty.

“Did you know they were magical waffles?” I leaned in to whisper as I kept pace.

“I didn’t think it meant they would transform me. I just thought it was a reference to how delicious they were.”

“And were they delicious?”

“So delicious.”

“So you are eating them again tomorrow?”

“I hope so. Will you join me?”

“Why not? I better pack us a bag to take to breakfast.”

He winked at me. “Good plan.”

~~~

Beware the magic waffles, my friends. And if you must eat them, don’t partake alone. Sadly, I am crabby without the help of magical waffles this morning. Summer is stressful for the mommas. Wish us well. Pray for us. And be kind….

Reigniting [FICTION]

I keep dreaming about him. We dated for a week in high school. We broke up because he found me too boring with my nose always buried in a book, and I couldn’t keep up with him and those long legs that loved cross-country. A couple of weeks later, my ex husband moved to town and I never thought of Theo again. 

Until this past week when he entered my dreams. I recognized him by his dark, piercing eyes because his dark curls had given way to baldness. I woke up the next morning laughing at the thought that he could change so much and still be so handsome. I tried looking him up on social media, like casual stalkers do these days. His profile picture featured a cartoon stick figure running fast. The rest of his page featured memes and comics, nothing personal, nothing to give a clue where life has taken him.

A couple of nights later, he enters my dreams again. The next morning, I search for his phone number. If he is on my mind this much, I should check on him. That logic gives me the courage to give him a call.

“Hello?” My stomach flutters as the deep timbre of his voice resonates from my phone.

“Hi. This is Jane…”

“Jane McIntyre? From high school?” His voice raises in excitement or am I imagining that?

“Yes.”

“Are you on the reunion committee?”

“No.”

“Good. They always try to enlist me to help since I am one of the few graduates who didn’t flee from this tiny town. What did you need then?”

“I just wanted to catch up…” I let the invitation hang between us, holding my breath hopefully.

“Then we should meet up. How about the pub on Elm? We could grab some lunch.”

I took a beat before agreeing to the suggestion. As the clock read eleven, I rushed to make myself presentable but not too presentable. I didn’t want Theo to think I had any expectations. After all, he might be married or a priest for all I could glean from my brief bouts of research. Despite my ministrations to my appearance, I arrive at the pub twenty minutes early. I sit at the bar and order a root beer float to calm my nerves. The bartender laughs but brings my drink to me quickly.

I am taking my third tentative sip when Theo enters the room. I recognize him immediately. He looks exactly as he has in my dreams with dark penetrating eyes and not a single hair upon his head. My heart stops as I take in his outfit. Suddenly, my casual button down and flared slacks seem inappropriate. His dark tuxedo marks him as out of place in this dimly lit pub. He fiddles with his bowtie as his eyes scan the room.

Then those eyes rest on me and he smiles. His long legs carry him swiftly toward me, as if he must resist the innate desire to run that got drilled into him in high school.

“Jane, it’s wonderful to see you. You look good.”

“And yet I feel underdressed,” I quip.

He looks down at his clothing in confusion for a moment before offering an embarrassed explanation. “I’m supposed to be getting married today, but you called, and I had to see you.”

“I had no idea.” I stammer. “We can catch up later…with your wife.”

“But she might not be my wife. I mean, I always wondered…”

His moment of silence makes me nervous, so I ask, “Wondered what?”

“What would have happened if I hadn’t been stupid. My friends said we weren’t the right fit, and I let them decide. That’s why I broke up with you. Then you married the weasel…er…Wesley.” 

I stare at him, stunned. When I finally find words, I ask. “You called Wesley…the weasel?”

“That’s what you got from what I just said.” The animation leaves his face and his lips turn downward.

“I got some other things, but I don’t know what to say about them. Did everyone call Wes a weasel?”

“Not everyone. Just all the guys from his gym class. He always tried to weasel his way out of gym, so he could go looking for you in the library.”

“No. He just needed help with his homework. I just happened to have library media at the same time he came in for tutoring.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“If it bothered you so much, why didn’t you say something?”

“I already admitted I was stupid, do you have to rub it in?”

I gnaw my lower lip and survey his attire again. “I am not sure you have gotten smarter.”

Now he looks like he is about to burst into tears. He doesn’t speak just turns sad eyes on me imploringly.

“You are supposed to be getting married but you came to meet me. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“And yet when I dream about you, you look like you do now.”

“Well, I have a picture of myself on my social media.” I bite my tongue, realizing my mistake and hoping he doesn’t.

“And you saw that I don’t? So you were looking at my page.”

I don’t answer.

“Why?” When I remain silent, he follows with another question. “Were you having the dreams, too.”

I feel the flush creeping up my neck to my face. I try to think of anything but the question to stop red from infusing my cheeks, but I fail. 

“I thought I just had cold feet.” Now he takes me hands. “Maybe it is something more.”

I am still fighting the urge to squeeze his hands and not let go when the door opens again. This time a loud bang turns all eyes toward the person entering. She glares in our general direction and I have no doubt who she is. I look from the woman in the flowing white dress to Theo with wide eyes. He turns his head to see what I am looking at.

“Mary,” he gasps, gripping my hands tighter.

“We need to talk.” She declares loudly as she swishes over to us. “I thought something was wrong, but I never expected to find you with another woman.”

“You don’t understand…”

She raises her hand, all but slapping him in the face with it to stop him from speaking. “I don’t want to hear excuses. I’m getting married today, Theo. Since you seem to have other plans, I am accepting your brother’s offer.”

“My brother? What?”

“We spent a lot of time planning this wedding while you got the track team ready for the meet. I thought I was just charmed by his hair, but now I am thinking it was the fact that he didn’t keep any secrets from me. He offered to marry me. I thought it was a joke, but maybe he knew about this.” She gestures at us, her blue eyes resting on our joined hands.

“Now wait a minute.” I protest, trying unsuccessfully to reclaim my hands. “We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you lured him away before I made the mistake of marrying him.” She slips her engagement ring from her finger and hands it to Theo. “You better keep this. Hope it fits her finger…if she’ll have you.”

Mary lifts her skirt and twirls away from us. As she reaches the door, it opens again, revealing a younger version of Theo who does indeed still have a thick mat of dark curls falling into his eyes.

“Mary, did you find him?” His eyes look past her long enough to give Theo a quizzical look. 

Then his attention returns to her. She leans in to whisper something to him. He looks sympathetic and then ecstatic as she speaks. He offers her his elbow and holds the door open as they leave together.

“I guess that should relieve some of my guilt,” Theo says though he looks like he is battling indigestion.

“This is too much for me.” I say at last. “Maybe we can try to catch up in a couple of weeks after we both have time to process.”

“That’s probably best.” He says, moving to the other end of the bar and facing away from me as he orders a drink.

I go back to drinking my float, taking an occasional surreptitious glance at Theo. He really does look like he did in my dreams. Maybe he is right, but this day has already been too much. I am going to need to do a lot of thinking over the next couple of weeks.

~~Ah. The fun of coincidences. Hope you enjoyed this one.~~

The Youngest Case [FICTION]

Choosing the life of a private investigator in a small town means you accept that dry spells will plague you. I have been reminding myself of that for the past few months as my phone remains silent and the only envelopes in my mailbox contain bills. I dipped into my savings and won’t even be able to do that if work doesn’t fall into my lap soon.

As I contemplate this, the phone begins to ring. I stare at it in confusion. At first, I fear I want it to ring so much that I am imagining the sound. As it persists, I reach out to pick it up. 

“Hello?” A hopeful little voice greets me as I put the earpiece to my ear.

“Eunice Lang, private investigator,” I finally cough out.

“I have a case for you.”

“How old are you?” Something about the trembling voice convinces me the caller is a child and thus probably a prank call.

“I’m ten. That’s why I need your help. No one listens to a kid.”

“I’m not sure I can help. You do know I charge for my services?”

“I know that.” His offense to my inquiry seeps into his voice, making him sound older, sixteen at least. “I can afford fifty dollars worth of your time. And my friends can afford another fifty dollars.”

That raises my interest. “Tell me about the case. We’ll see if I think I can solve it for under a hundred dollars.”

“My two best friends and I lost our grandfathers this past year. So we made special wreaths to place on their graves for Memorial Day. The big parade is in two days, so we laid them on the graves yesterday. Lewis lives near the cemetery, so he checked on them this morning and they were all missing.”

I nodded understanding then remembered we couldn’t see each other. “So you want me to find a couple wreaths? I am not sure that is worth your hundred dollars, kid. You could buy some real beauts for less than that.”

“Not just our wreaths. All the wreaths.”

Our small town prides itself on the service of our young men in protecting the freedoms of our country. The main cemetery always looks like a floral flag factory on Memorial Day. We wouldn’t have it any other way. I place my hand over my heart, reflexively saying a prayer for all those men and women whose sacrifices we honor.

“I’ll take the case kid. I will need fifty up front in case I have expenses. Want to meet at the cemetery and tell me everything you know?”

“Yes, ma’am. Lewis and George will be there, too.”

Since this is a busy weekend at that location, I ask one more question. “How will I recognize you?” 

“We’ll be standing at attention, ma’am, right outside the gate like they do at Buckingham Palace.”

I bite back to urge to ask if they will be wearing the tall hats. “See you soon, kid.”

As I hang up, I realize I didn’t ask his name. This could still be a prank, though an ill-advised one. You can tell as many “your mama” jokes as you want, but you never defame the memory of our veterans.

~~

I breath a sigh of relief as I pull up to the cemetery. Three young boys await me with their right hands at their temple in a prolonged salute. Nothing moves except their eyes as I approach.

“Lewis, George, and…” I trail off as I realize I never asked the caller’s name.

“Keith,” the boy in the middle grins, revealing a gap between his two front teeth.

He and his companions drop their salutes as I say their names and look at me expectantly.

I return his smile. “Care to show me around?”

Keith throws back his shoulders proudly and leads me into the cemetery. We don’t get very far in before I realize the boys underestimated the scope of the crime. The week before Memorial Day every grave in the National Cemetery seems to magically sprout flags and flowers. The green grass hides beneath an uplifting layer of red, white, and blue pride. Today, only green grass stretches out among the headstones.

As I stand contemplating what on earth this can mean, I notice a voice calling out for the first time. My head whips up as I turn to face the sound.

“Who is that?”

“I dunno.” George and Lewis shrug together. “We were the first ones here."

As their leader, Keith tries to be more helpful. “I saw some men selling flowers and flags to place on graves.”

“Really? Where?” 

As Keith rushes back out the front gates of the cemetery, I follow. Through the course of my whole life, I have never seen anyone hawking goods outside the cemetery gate. It would be foolish to steal items from the graves only to sell them back, but I have seen more ill-conceived plans in my time as a private detective than my optimism permits me to admit.

“Would you like to buy a flag and some flowers to honor one of our beloved veterans, boys?” An old man asks the boys as we step over to the back of his old pick-up truck.

“No, thank you, sir.” Lewis replies politely as their young eyes look to me.

The old man surveys me hopefully as I take in his set-up. He wears a worn and faded plaid coat. His tentative smile reveals more gaps than teeth. The remaining teeth barely hold on as discoloration creeps across most of them. Behind him, two young boys sit on the wheel wells, sorting through various large boxes. I stand on my tiptoes in the hopes of getting a peak inside one of the boxes. 

“Is there something in particular you would like, miss.” The old man’s smile fades as he regards me suspiciously.

“Maybe.” I look down at Keith. “Tell me again about the wreath you made for your grandfather?”

“It wasn’t very big. But I made sure it had his name on it.”

The old man turns toward the boys, giving them a hard look. As he looks away, I pull my phone out and begin typing a text to the one person on the police department who never admitted to finding me a nuisance. I explain my suspicions as briefly as possible and slip my phone back into my pocket. I look up to find the man and his two young accomplices watching me.

I smile reassuringly and touch the nearest bouquet of flowers. “These are lovely. I just feel like I want something bigger for my father. Maybe a wreath?”

“We don’t have any wreaths,” the old man informs me, though he gives the taller of the boys a look that assures me the statement was meant for him, not me. “Might be time to pack up, boys. Thought we’d have more interest at this here cemetery than the last one.”

The boys begin closing the flaps on the boxes that surround them. The old man carefully packs bouquets and flags into a box that he pulled out from under the tailgate. I try to rope him into conversation to slow him down. He manages to keep going despite my interruptions. Luckily, one doesn’t need to travel far to get from one point to the next in a small town. 

My acquaintance in the police department pulls up in his personal car, parking directly behind us, so the truck can’t to leave before he got a chance to talk to the proprietors of the pop-up flower and flag shop.

“What do we have here?” He asks in a deep rumble as he unfolds himself from the older model sedan.

He towers over me as he joins me in front of the peddler. The older man looks up at him with a hint of fear.

“Just moving on, sir.” The old man offers deferentially and places the last bouquet in his box.

“Ah. But I was hoping to get a look at your wares. I am always looking to show my respect for those who have defended my freedom.” He reaches for the box.

The old man turns to place it on the back of the truck. “Too late. We’re closed.”

“Then I will have to insist on taking a look at your wares in an official capacity.” As he speaks, he produces his badge from his pocket and holds it out.

The boys leap over the sides of the truck bed and run in opposite directions. The old man releases a set of expletives that will surely have the parents of my clients washing their mouths out with soap for the next month. 

“That sort of response tends to make one look guilty.” The officer says, stepping forward to open a box. He pauses to look up at the old man. “I wouldn’t follow your young friends. They’ll be coming back soon with some officers on their arms.”

He opens the box to pull out flags and wreaths. He sets some to side. One of which causes Keith to gasp in recognition. After a few minutes of sorting, the officer turns back to the old man and shakes his head.

“Some of these wreaths you have for sale have names on them, which could be a coincidence, but I recognize this one.” He holds up a wreath of white roses with red and blue ribbon carefully wound around it. “My wife made this one for her grandfather’s grave.” He flips it over to display a name inside a heart painted on the back of the foam circle that gives the wreath stability. “You are under arrest.”

As the old man protests his innocence and then devolves to accusing his accomplices of deceiving him, the officer turns to me and the boys. “I have to take the ones that can be identified, but no one in this town will sleep well tonight if that cemetery isn’t swelling with red, white, and blue. Do you have time to place these unmarked ones on some of the graves.”

“Of course.” We answer as one, collecting the boxes and heading back inside the cemetery to honor our fallen servicemen and women.

~~I really did grow up in a town where Memorial Day was bigger than Christmas. The schoolchildren still dress up in variations of red, white, and blue and proudly march in the parade, which leads to the National Cemetery where they lay bouquets on the graves. Of course, I think if anyone there tried such a devious act, they might not fare so well.~~

Amazing Adventure [FICTION]

“Oh no. I’m late.” I mumble as I open my eyes to bright sunlight.

As I blink back tears, the world around me comes into focus. Leafy green branches reach toward a deep blue sky way overhead. I turn my head to see immaculately trimmed hedges encircling me with gaps every ten feet or so. I sit up slowly. Every muscle in my body complains about napping on the hard ground. Even the lush grass underfoot didn’t fool my body into believing it rested on a nice firm mattress.

I take a closer look at my surroundings and find myself drawn to a sign hanging amongst the ivy on the far hedge. I limp toward it as my legs protest wakefulness. I finally get close enough to read it and almost wish I hadn’t.

“If in an hour this maze isn’t completed

You’ll remain here until eternity is repeated 

Just one warning, we must give

If you touch the walls, you may not live”

I peer at the walls more closely after reading this warning. I shudder as the ivy seems to slither under my scrutiny. I glance down at my watch and wonder if my hour started when I arrived here or the moment I read the ominous warning. I could have no time at all or almost sixty minutes or infinity if this proves an elaborate ruse.

I begin counting the possible exits. Three arches of greenery lead away from the circle in which I find myself. I have a one in three chance of choosing the right one. And the chance of finding my way out increases or decreases based on the luck of this first choice. As I contemplate my options, looking for any unique feature to distinguish one door from another, a small brown rabbit hops past me.

“It worked for Alice,” I murmur as I follow my new leaping friend through the archway to the left of the sign.

Noticing me behind him, the little creature hops quickly away, disappearing around a bend before I can catch up. I turn that corner and find myself facing a choice between traveling forward or left. A sound overhead draws my attention and I look up to see a buzzard flapping his giant wings to maintain his height above the maze. He seems to be circling above something on the path ahead of me.

As I take in his bald head and sharp eyes, I picture a carcass lying on the path ahead of me. I shudder. He would surely be drawn to someone else’s unfortunate demise. I turn left and continue scurrying hopefully toward an exit.

The path I travel seems to twist back on itself somehow. Then the path dead ends with another. I look both right and left. They look exactly the same, continuing the exact same distance before turning again. I look back and forth, unable to choose. I glance at my watch. Knowing how little time might remain doesn’t help me make my decision.

As I stand undecided, something slithers across my foot and I leap back, startled. When I look down, I see what looks like a flesh-colored snake about the same length as my foot is wide.

“How peculiar.” I whisper to myself.

Then I take a closer look and notice the grass ahead of the snake moving before it does. The snake disappears. I crouch down and fall to my knees, so I can see the grass better. The rustling continues toward the right hand path and I follow it.

I blink and lose sight of the rustling. I sigh and stand up, looking around again in the hopes of finding another animal guide. A crow caws overhead. The sound causes me to cry out. I clap my hand over my mouth, suddenly convinced too much noise will awaken whatever lives on the walls to permanently destroy my hopes of escape.

I keep track of the crow, determined not to travel toward it if I can help it. I breath a sigh of relief when the path splits in two. The crow goes one way and I hurry in the other. I think I hear traffic sounds on the other side of this hedgerow. My footsteps quicken until I reach a split that leads off in three directions.

I start to take the center path but am drawn to the left by an insistent meow. As I follow the sound, the path turns and I find a large, orange tabby regarding me with stunning green eyes. A rumbling purr erupts from it as it sets eyes on me. It stands up slowly and twitches its tail gracefully as if to encourage me to come along quickly.

Following the animals who seem to be surviving whatever terrors lurk inside the maze has worked for me thus far, so I follow. The cat moves quickly along the path, apparently uninterested in whether I keep up. My earlier comment about what works for Alice occurs to me, but I push it aside and keep following that wavering tail.

Unlike the cat who confused Alice, this one proves to be a good guide. I step out of the archway and into my own backyard. Startled I turn back toward the maze and see my own weatherworn fence. The orange tabby sits on top of it, happily licking his side. 

“Come on, Cheshire,” I say, walking toward my back door.

He meows and jumps down from the fence to follow me inside.

~~I could use a cat right now to snuggle my knee and purr until it feels better. That’s how purring works, right? Sorry for the late posting. I managed to fall on my knee not once but twice last week, so I have been a little distracted by trying to rest my leg and ignore the many tasks that await us mere mortals every day of our lives. Hopefully, this week is less painful.~~

Found in Memories [FICTION]

“This is your last chance, Tara.” My mother warns me. “Your father and I are moving, and we aren’t taking this stuff with us. So come over and help us clean it out of the attic or buy it from one of the local charities in a couple of weeks.”

I sigh. I want to say I don’t have time for this or lament that my parents are moving from my childhood home, but I know I don’t have the right to either of those responses.

“I’ll be over in the morning.”

“Oh good. It will be like a holiday. Robert will be here, too.”

The thought of spending the morning in a dusty attic with my older brother gives me cause to seek an excuse to back out. I open my mouth to speak but don’t get a chance.

“You two can be adults together for a couple of hours and I will make a batch of Christmas crack to munch on while we relax afterward,” my mother knows her children and our weaknesses.

~~

I arrive at my mother’s house early and find my brother’s boat of a car already in the driveway. I grumble as I park on the street and cut across the grass to the front door. I ring the bell. I feel I have outgrown just walking into the house. My mother obviously feels differently. No one answers, so I open the door.

“Mom?”

“We’re in the kitchen, dear.”

I join her and my brother. She stirs a bubbling pan of future toffee he while leans on a counter, sipping milk and nibbling on a cookie.

“I wondered when you would get here, slowpoke.”

I roll my eyes. “I am early, just like you.”

“Not just like me. I was here first.”

“You two. Stop distracting me, so I can finish this. You both know where the attic is.” She waves her wooden spoon in that general direction.

Properly motivated, we mount the stairs to the second floor. We stand staring at the cord that brings down the attic ladder for a few minutes before I give in and pull it down. Soon we are standing in the attic, blinking in the light of a bare bulb. 

“Wow.” Robert stares at the piles of boxes, “Are these really all ours?”

“Must be. I saw all the Christmas stuff piled up in the living room.”

“I am guessing the ones with pink stickers are yours.” He opens the box closest to him which has no label. “Jackpot.”

I peek over his shoulder and see cars jumbled together inside the box. He shakes it to shift them around, grinning as old favorites are revealed. He places the box to one side and opens the next. This one features college textbooks. He shoves that box off into another pile. I stop watching him and turn toward some of the pink-marked boxes.

The first few boxes contain toys in various states of disrepair. Each holds a special memory, so I start a keep pile with those. The next contains loosely piled papers. A quick glance reveals that these should have found their way to the recycling can before I moved out of my parents’ house. I shake my head and start a third stack.

I glance up to see my brother happily ensconced in playing with something inside another box of goodies. I shake my head and resist the urge to ask questions. He glances up at me and grins.

“Need something, sis?”

“Nope.” I quickly grab the nearest box and pull it toward me.

The bright pink tub holds the outfits of my childhood that I couldn’t part with even when I had outgrown them. As I pull out each item and carefully fold it to place it on the lid, I am amazed at how my style changed over the years. The top layers are dark-colored, loose fitting tops and tight jeans. Below that a myriad of pinks unfolds itself. Nestled amongst all the pink is one brown item. I bite my lip to keep from squealing in delight as I pull it out of the tub.

I rest my cheek on the soft velour. I close my eyes. Startled by a feeling of dizziness that overcomes me, I clutch the fabric in my fist and breath deeply.

The dry dusty scent of the attic fades away. The fertile scents of spring rush over me. The dew on the green grass feels fabulous on my feet, warmed by racing around the backyard in my new brown velour dress with delicate blue flowers along the square collar. 

The minute I saw the dress, I wanted it. I didn’t care that I found it draped across a table at one of my mother’s boring yard sales. I could tell it would fit me beautifully. My mother was so excited that I finally took an interest in a bargain that she bought it for me on the spot and even threw it in the wash as soon as we got home.

As soon as I put it on, I transformed into Princess Moonbeam of the Midnight tribe. Forgive me. I was about nine years old. I didn’t know much about Native Americans. I knew that they were wild and fierce and beautiful and free and that is what I wanted to be. And I was all that and more in that dress—free and barefoot. I stalked an imaginary deer that morning and I caught it, too. I only came inside when my mother called me for dinner.

Many more days passed that way throughout that spring and into the summer. I had a growth spurt in the fall so when it warmed up enough to become and Indian princess again, my dress no longer fit. I sigh as I think of it, longing to really be back in that time when my imagination could take me anywhere.

I still feel the warm spring breeze on my face. The scents of wildflowers rise up to tickle my nose. I open my eyes and all of that fades away as the harsh light of the bulb above my head pulls me our of my reverie.The brightness reminds me of the temporary feeling of faintness and I stumble.

“You okay?” Robert looks at me with uncharacteristic concern.

“Yeah. Fine. I think I need a break.” 

I gently set the dress in my keep pile and take tentative steps toward the ladder. I feel Robert place a steadying hand on my elbow as he steps in front of me to guide me down the stairs. Neither of us mentions his kindness, but as I take that last step to the firm floor of the hallway, I give him a grateful smile. He nods his understanding.

By the time we enter the kitchen with the overwhelming smell of roasted pecans, toffee, and warm chocolate, we have resumed our normal dynamic. He teases me and I ignore him. Our mother smiles at us as we enter the kitchen.

“Have you finished?”

“Just taking a break.” Robert looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he continues. “I needed a glass of water.”

“That sounds like I good idea.” I eye a steaming tray of Christmas crack as I grab two glasses and fill them.

“Don’t even think about it, Tara. You both know the rules. Clean your stuff out of my attic or no treats for you. Besides, it needs to set.”

We nod out agreement and sit at the table to drink our water and rest our feet. Soon we are back at it, digging for treasures. I find a few more that I have forgotten but none affects me quite like that dress. 

When I return home, I wash and dry it on a gentle cycle before carrying it upstairs to my bedroom. Once there, I fold the dress carefully, wrap it in tissue paper and hide it under the blankets in the blanket chest at the foot of my bed. Perhaps, I will have a daughter someday. And maybe that daughter will wear this dress and be transported as I was.

~~I think every mom has something they want to pass down to their child. Of course, the most important gifts are love and wisdom won from experiences we’d never want our loved ones to repeat but sometimes it is a memory. It is never too early to jot some of the best ones down to share with posterity.~~