Another Stab at Life

by Anita Higman

  Air, like cooling eddies, flowed around my ankles. Particles of dust churned up around me. I coughed and put my shirt over my mouth. I stepped forward, aiming my light down into a hole. Dark as a cavern. A new breed of odors attacked my senses—a musty smell with a dose of something acidic. Like vinegar.

  Tremors coursed through my hands, making the light jiggle. Come on, Bailey. Calm yourself. I got on my knees for a closer look and stopped the light on some boards just below me. Some two-by-four pieces of wood had been nailed to the side of the passage every foot or so. The boards created a crude kind of ladder, which appeared quite precarious. Boy, I bet I never go down that ladder.

  As I looked straight into the hole, I spotted a wall about three feet away. I leaned in farther, taking note that the distance from side to side was roughly ten feet. But the bottom was nowhere in sight, which possibly meant the passage went the full length of the two stories. In other words, it would be a long way to fall.

  Spiderwebs crisscrossed the channel. Incredible. Just like the long narrow passage Granny had always talked about.

  Hmm. There must be a bedroom on the other side. That meant the passage had probably been designed into the house when it was built. My heart raced with the thrill of discovery. But did Granny have the dream because of this door? Had she found it, too? Or was this some strange coincidence? I would never know, but it was still a remarkable find.

  I pointed the flashlight straight ahead of me into the black space and saw a strange sight. Of all the things I imagined in a secret place like this, I never have would guessed what I saw hidden there.

  5 – The Tiny Tempest

  Glass jars—rows of them—sat on wooden shelves, entombed in dust like buried relics. They were old canning jars. Unlabeled. The light revealed some sort of transparent liquid in a few of them. How odd. Now why would anyone go to so much trouble to hide something so innocuous? I meticulously scanned the passage with my flashlight, guiding the beam up and down. The light revealed more shelving but fewer jars.

  I wanted a closer examination of the containers, so I decided to go for it. I sat the flashlight in the top rung of the ladder so it kept a continuous spray of light where I wanted to reach. I lowered myself onto my side and then scooted partially over the hole, all the time keeping a white-knuckled grip on the sliding door frame behind me.

  Amid my squirming, I accidentally knocked a nail into the dark cavity. I waited. Finally, I heard a clinking sound as metal hit stone. Guess I’d need to be careful. My bones wouldn’t fare so well.

  I leaned over the abyss. Careful, Bailey. One slip and you’ll be forced to wear one of those scenic hospital gowns that opens in the back. Or perhaps much worse.

  I scooted out a bit more and then stretched my arm to the goal. Just an inch or two more. Almost got a jar. Come on, Bailey. You can do it. I tightened my grip on the frame behind me, which sent sharp pains through my wrist and fingers. With my other hand, I latched onto one of the jars as I tried to ignore the tickling spiderwebs. Good hold. Got it. I tried pulling myself back up, but my body twisted. My strength wavered, and my hand wanted to let go. I breathed and then prayed. Do it now. In one aching lunge, I pulled myself and the jar safely out of the hole.

  Whew. I sat down on the floor, rubbing my wrist. After a brief recovery, my attention honed in on my discovery. I wiped off the dust and spiderwebs from the jar and shook the contents. I stared at the tiny tempest I’d made inside. The fluid looked like water as it sloshed around and sparkled in the light. But why would anyone hide jars of water?

  I tried the top. Stuck. I tapped the rim against the inside of the door panel and tried it again. The lid started to give way, making a gritty sound as I turned it. Finally, I lifted the top off and took a deep sniff of the contents. The stinging smell of strong liquor stung my nose. Oh my. Of course. Now I remember. Granny said the house had been built in the late ’20s. Prohibition. This is moonshine. The folks who’d lived here years ago weren’t canning up their garden veggies; they were concealing their bootlegging business! Now there’s some interesting history about the house. I sat there thinking about the angles and implications of this information. And whom would I tell? Not sure.

  Maybe some more exploration was in order. I decided to shine the flashlight just below me. I noticed three gallon jars on an empty shelf, and they appeared to be full of something green. Funny. They looked like bills. Dollar bills. Were they counterfeit? Or was it real money from their illegal business?

  I moved in even closer with the light. A guy who looked like Benjamin Franklin stared back at me on those bills. Wasn’t he on the one-hundred-dollar bill? Lots of these new green bills filled the jars. But they couldn’t be real. Could they? With my curiosity scampering now like hamsters on espresso, I decided to reach for one of the three big jars full of the green.

  I dropped down on my belly and with amazing ease, lifted one of the gallon jars up onto the floor next to me.

  I wiped the perspiration dripping from my face and then tried unscrewing the shiny new lid. It opened easily as if it hadn’t been there long. I picked out one of the bills and studied it. Franklin’s portrait adorned the bill, and it looked amazingly real. I saw an envelope below a few of the bills and opened it. A folded letter fell out. I took the note into the bedroom, lowered myself on a nearby chair, and began to read.

  My dear Bailey,

  Surprise! It was my last wish on this earth that you, Bailey Marie Walker, would find these three gallon jars of money, which I placed here after I found out I was ill. I’ve never told a soul about this money—not even my attorney, Mr. Lakes.

  Invest wisely, my dearest, and if you choose to fix up this old house, you should have plenty of extra funds. You’ll find it to be a house full of mysteries, but one I also think you will come to enjoy with a full heart.

  By the time you read this, I will have had time to talk to my sweet Jesus, and I will be well and whole again. Rejoice with me! But remember, weeping over a loss is okay, too. Even Jesus did. If God hadn’t expected us to cry from time to time, he wouldn’t have given us tear ducts.

  Now, before I took off on my journey, I prayed you’d have a long life, surrounded by the finest treasures, which are a strong faith, good friends, and if God wills it, a Christian man who’ll bring you even more years of happiness and some little ones, too!

  Always talk to the One who created you. Even when things seem too dark or too impossible. He’s the God of redemption and of love. In fact, He’s watching out for you, even now.

  So, dearie, on this other matter of moneys, these three jars should contain half a million dollars. I don’t need it now! Have a good life, and I’ll see you in heaven when the time is right! I love you, my dearest child.

  Your Granny Minna.

  I paused for a moment. My heart constricted into a ball of pain. I felt the anguish of losing Granny all over again, and yet I also felt gratitude for the love message. I read the letter again, more carefully this time, holding on to every phrase and thinking of every nuance of her words. My granny had written me one last letter. Thank you, God. I kissed the note and slid it gently into the drawer of my music box.

  I turned around to stare at the gallon jar, my eyes widening with the realization of what it meant. Half a million dollars. It was like a dream, only I knew I was wide awake. I wasn’t sure what to do first. Well, maybe I did know. I thanked God, and then realized I didn’t have to use my lunch money for cleaning supplies. I now had money for both. It was certainly more than I’d asked God for.

  I laughed out loud, wondering if this moment made God chuckle, too. And then I had this need to share my good news with someone. But I had no one to tell. I guess that’s the way things are when one chooses to drift through life on an empty barge.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t help letting out a couple of whoops. The cheer bounced around the room and echoed back to me, reminding me to share the news with someone. I hadn’t experienced so many different emotions in a long time. My sens
ory catchall felt like an overflowing tub. I couldn’t keep up. I barely knew how to act.

  Granny had always been one who loved divvying out surprises, but I hadn’t expected this. I’d already been willed a marble clock, her favorite Bible, a huge set of Fostoria dishes, and seeds from her garden. It had been enough to remember her by. But this gift! This was too much. I looked around the room. Well, maybe not. The house did need tons of work, and somehow now, I really did want to stay. More than ever the house seemed like a memory of Granny, and that made all the difference.

  My mind raced forward, making even more plans. This would be enough money to invest, as well as to fix up the house. It would buy me some time to make this house into a home before I started another full-time job. I liked the sound of that. I think God did, too.

  I went back to the passage and pulled up the other two money jars. I hid all the containers in the corner of my closet and then yanked down the sliding door. After plopping onto one of the stuffed chairs, I touched my upturned lips with my fingertips. Smiles had such a good feel to them. They’d been unfamiliar for too long.

  I headed to the bathroom. Maybe I could do my morning routine without touching anything. Later, when I climbed into some clean jeans and a T-shirt, I heard a pounding. What’s that? The front door. Dedra again? As I headed downstairs, I glanced around. Wow. I still can’t believe I own this huge place. I checked the peephole thoroughly and then opened the door.

  Dedra stood on my porch with a daisy stuck in her hair like a flower child. Her arms strained with every kind of cleaning supply within the known galaxy. “Well, how about we wash some of the dirt off this old house and see what secrets we find.”

  Incredible. Dedra had no idea how right she was. The bootleggers had to hide their wares or risk jail. The house had to be bursting with stories to tell. Suddenly, I wanted to just blurt out all of the news of Granny’s money to Dedra, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. “Are you sure you want to help me?”

  Dedra stepped into the entry. “Max would have liked to have helped us today, but—”

  “I wouldn’t expect him to drive all the way over here.” I took some of the supplies from her arms.

  Dedra’s face radiated confusion with a hint of amusement. “Didn’t you know? Max is our neighbor. He lives on the other side of me.”

  6 – Toward the Edge

  Mortified. Yes, that summarized my sensibilities about now. A sizzling grenade had just landed on all my good news. As I waited for some kind of internal explosion, I synchronized my vocal cords again to force out the words, “Max Sumner lives only two doors down from me?”

  “Yes. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “Well, I guess he might have said he lived somewhere in the neighborhood. But it was late. I was tired. And I thought he was talking generically. Like maybe he resided somewhere on this side of the Continental Divide. I had no—”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” I wished now I’d bothered to look at his business card. “It’s just. . .well. . .I’m surprised.” Great. Another unexpected turn of events. I wondered if Max would use binoculars to make sure I met a two-dates-per-weekend quota. Or maybe he’d constantly be knocking on the door wanting some kind of matrimonial updates. What else would happen today? I sensed a strange pull of some kind, like a toy boat headed toward the edge of Niagara. Whatever. I decided I might as well spill some information since I was about to topple over the edge. “Dedra. I have something I want to tell you. Good news.” I had her sit down on the couch for support. “Well, earlier when you left for a while. . .I found something in the house.”

  “Like what?” Dedra leaned in with more interest than I expected.

  “You’re not going to believe this. I hardly believe it myself.” I paused. Somewhere I heard a drum roll. “My granny Minna left me half a million dollars in cash. I found it up on the second floor behind a closet. The money had been stashed in three gallon-sized jars. Can you believe it? All in one-hundred-dollar bills.”

  Dedra dropped the bottle of window cleaner from her hand. “Okay, now that is so truly. . .truly amazing. Truly.”

  I smiled, relieved that she showed genuine surprise with the news, which meant she hadn’t known about the money. And that’s a good thing, since Dedra has a key to my house.

  “Mind-boggling, actually. To find something like that in your bedroom,” Dedra said.

  “Yes.” I licked my lips. Had I mentioned I’d found the money in my bedroom, or was she just good at guessing? The tiniest shiver ran through me. Then I laughed at myself.

  Dedra hugged me. “It’s fantastical. But your grand- mother was really taking a chance, wasn’t she? I mean, what if somebody else had found the money?”

  “Well, that would have been difficult since the money was hidden in the wall.”

  “You mean, like a secret place?” Dedra asked.

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell her about the passage, so I just nodded. “By the way, for now, please don’t tell anyone about this. Okay?”

  “I understand,” Dedra said. “You know, it might be wise to put your money in the bank. Actually, mine isn’t far from here, and they’re open.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “And then I guess on Monday it’d be great to have a cleaning crew come so I could concentrate on all the repairs. So, you and I don’t really have to clean. But there is something you could help me with.”

  “Name it.”

  I threw a tiny piece of my caution to the wind as I said, “Well, you could come with me to the bank. Maybe you can help me convince them that I didn’t steal all this cash.”

  We both laughed.

  “Done. And after the bank, we need to shop for a real bed and mattress,” Dedra said. “And some little air conditioning units until you can get central air.” She held her hands up dramatically. “And you need a beta fish.”

  “Oh. A beta fish?” I asked weakly.

  “You know. For company. It’s an awfully big house.” Dedra clapped her hands together. “And to save time for a little while, you don’t need to shop for groceries. Just have food delivered. Then you can make phone calls and get set up.”

  “That’s good. I like that.”

  Dedra rose from the couch and looked around. “You know, now you’ll be able fix this house up. Make it a home. . .or sell it.”

  I was surprised at her second suggestion but chose to ignore it. After some planning, we locked the house and headed out. The tellers at the bank had to call the head honchos down from upstairs so they could burble and stare like marmosets. I couldn’t blame them. They simply had never seen anyone bring in half a million dollars in gallon jugs before. But in the end, the bank took Granny’s money with a vigorous handshake, depositing it into a savings account until I could consult with a financial planner.

  Dedra and I left the bank in high spirits. It’d been a day I would hold in my memory forever. The day I found the letter and the love gift from Granny and the day I reconsidered the concept of friendship. Maybe.

  By seven o’clock that evening, I had a real bed and mattress delivered, one small air conditioner installed in my bedroom, and Dedra’s old blankets tacked to the windows. It ranked far from utopia, but I felt a surge of hope.

  Once Dedra had gone home, I decided to take on the cheerless job of burying the cat, which I did, laying him to rest in a grave in the far corner of my backyard.

  I then checked for traces of anyone breaking into the house or for general mischief. Nothing looked peculiar, except the back door was indeed loose on its hinges, which did seem to make the door easier to force open. After finding a small screwdriver in the garage, I managed to make the door secure again. Maybe whoever had broken in was now finished with their threatening games. I certainly hoped so.

  Just as I thought about bedtime, I realized I hadn’t checked the third floor tower or attic since I’d moved in, which was pretty crazy since someone could have been lurking up there. How could I have forg
otten to check it?

  Then I wondered if the bats would be active or gone? Would I fall through the floor up there? Were the decaying boards as mushy as melon rinds? So many questions. Never enough answers. Maybe I could just take a peek before bed. I’d sleep so much better having faced my adversaries and knowing for sure if I could get rid of them soon. But was there such a thing as bat exterminators?

  Then a genius of an idea hit me. It would surely win a Great Thinkers Award, if there were such a thing. I picked up my pillow and flashlight and stumbled my way up the staircase to the third floor.

  Another closed door. Great. “One, two, three!” I yelled and jerked the door open. Nothing flew at me. My shoulder relaxed, and I sighed. The third floor consisted of a hallway, enclosed attic spaces, and the little tower.

  I turned my attention to the tower and took a quick peek inside. Hmm. What looked like a church steeple from the outside now looked like a square nook on the inside. I liked the idea of windows on each side of the room to give it a sunny atmosphere during the day and a great view by night, but I wasn’t so sure about the neighbors being able to see all my activities. Some draperies or blinds might be in order up here too. Yes. It would be a perfect place to make into a reading room for cozying up with a good mystery. But right now, it looked creepy and smelled like fireworks for some odd reason. I shut the door.

  Now for the dreaded attic rooms. If I did have bats, I felt somewhat ready to deal with their kind. Yes, I think I had their number. I sensed the bats would be staying out late partying, à la getting loopy on red corpuscle cocktails and maybe watching some old Dracula movies. If that were true, the attic would be ripe for a takeover.

  Coming up on the attic door, I didn’t sing or utilize my yanking-open-the-door method, but instead I quietly eased it open a crack. I glanced down and saw my T-shirt shaking and almost wished I’d asked Dedra along for moral support. The thought of being a coward egged me on. I prayed for an ounce more courage and opened the door a tiny bit more. Then I saw it. Guano on the floor. Just what I thought. But no bats. At least not from my angle. With my confidence rising, I opened the door and tiptoed inside, searching the rafters for my vinyl-winged friends. None. Yes, indeed, the bats must be out on the town, living it up like bandits.