by Terri Bertha
As the morning neared closer to lunch, a few of the regulars came in to play their lottery numbers. Fred would tease them and say, “No luck? You got to keep on playing to win.”
People laughed and said, “Yeah, Fred, you can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket. You gotta play to win.”
At the end of the day, while balancing the register, Fred thought about the twenty he made from his dollar. “I should tell the boys that their dollar was worth twenty, and split it with them. They deserve half since it was theirs originally.”
Then the words, you gotta play to win popped into his head.
Fred wasn’t a gambler, and couldn’t justify wasting it on lottery tickets. But today seemed like a different day, and Fred bought a scratch off ticket with the twenty dollars. You gotta play to win. It was twenty I didn’t have before so no big deal.
Fred put the twenty dollar scratch off ticket in his store apron pocket and went home for the evening. He forgot about the ticket until the next morning at the store when he put his apron back on. Placing the ticket on the counter, he read the scratch off rules on the back of the card. He rubbed off ‘Your Numbers’ and then proceeded to uncover his ticket numbers. On the last number, Fred was excited to find out that he had won five hundred dollars.
Fred’s first thought was, Wow, how lucky is that? Then, I could donate this to the food bank or the animal shelter. They could probably use it more than I could. Fred decided he would split the money and donate to each.
Fred started restocking the canned food shelf when his friend Harry came into the store. “How you doing today, Fred?”
“Great! I just won five hundred dollars on a scratch off.”
“Congratulations,” said Harry. “Hey, I’m going down to this restaurant for lunch that has online horse betting. Do you want to join me and we’ll place a couple of horse bets?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I was thinking about donating my winnings, and I don’t know anything about horses.”
“Come on,” said Harry. “I’ll teach you all about the horses. You don’t need to bet it all. Save some for your donation if you want to.”
“Well, I guess I could do that. I normally stay open during lunch hours. I’d have to close for a while.”
“It won’t hurt to close one hour over lunch. People will survive. Come on. I’ll be back before lunch to take you down.”
A small pang of doubt entered Fred’s stomach. Hesitantly he said, “All right. See you then.”
Fred learned how to place electronic bets on horses in no time. To his amazement, his five hundred grew to five thousand.
Harry slapped Fred’s back. “Wow. You’re really lucky. I wish I had your luck. You must be living right.”
It was true. No matter what horse Fred bet on, he always came up a winner. In the following weeks, Fred spent his lunch hours at the restaurant placing bets with Harry. People were surprised when they came by the store and saw the ‘Closed for Lunch’ sign.
“Why, I don’t remember this place ever being closed over lunchtime. It’s always been open. I hope there’s nothing wrong with Fred. It’s not like him,” people would say.
Fred continued to play the horses and soon Harry showed him the ins and outs of sports betting, mostly involving football and basketball. Fred couldn’t get his mind off thinking about the various odds.
“I’ve never seen anyone who was so lucky,” said Harry.
Fred laughed and thought, Yeah, and it all started with that dollar I got from those two kids. They’ll never know how much I made on that buck. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.
Fred was making so much money that he decided to close the store earlier in the day, and started taking more days off. He thought, Why work your butt off when you can make easy money by gambling?
Once in a while, Paul and Lou would stop by the store to buy candy and drinks or say ‘Hi’ to Mr. Jacob. Most of the time, Mr. Jacob wouldn’t even acknowledge the boys and hurriedly hung the ‘Closed’ sign and saying, “Not now. I'm busy. Get out. I need to close up.”
Paul and Lou couldn’t understand Fred’s abruptness. Mr. Jacob never seemed to act like he wasn’t interested in pleasing or talking to his customers. He was always so kind and would stay open late to allow anyone finish picking up whatever they needed.
“Boy, he doesn't seem to be the old same old Mr. Jacob we once knew,” said Lou.
“He looks like he’s gained a little weight too,” said Paul. “Too many lunches out.”
“I think he's turning into a grumpy old man. It's almost like his personality has changed. I remember all the times he donated to the food bank and gave to charities and the animal shelter. I haven’t seen him in ages at the food bank carrying in bags of groceries or at the animal shelter.”
Paul and Lou didn’t know it, but Fred Jacob was now spending his weekends flying to casinos. Instead of wearing his jeans and plaid shirt, he now dressed in expensive suits, drove flashier cars, and wore gold chains around his neck. All things that seemed so out of character for a small store owner.
Employees at the casinos knew Fred so well that they started addressing him by his first name. “Nice to see you back, Fred. Thanks for the tip.”
No matter how Fred betted, or what game he played, he always came away a big winner. It was so easy for him.
After long weekends, he’d return back to his store, where he now worked only a few days a week. The first thing he did when he got home was immediately count his money and log his winnings in a spreadsheet.
On one of the days the store was open, Fred’s neighbor, Arlene, stopped by. “Hi, Fred. Wanted to stop and give you the majority of the money we owe on credit. I have one-hundred eighty dollars of the two-hundred. I’ll bring the remaining twenty in by the end of the week. We’ve had such a tough time with Bill losing his job, but I’m waitressing now. We really appreciate you helping us out in this bad time.”
Fred crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Arlene. He slammed his fist on the counter. “You and Bill are a couple of deadbeats. I’ve helped you many times and this is enough. No more credit for either of you.”
“I’ll have…” Arlene started as tears welled in her eyes.
“If you don’t have cash to buy groceries, then don’t come in here anymore. If I don’t get my twenty dollars by the end of the week, you’ll be getting a notice from a collection agency.”
Arlene couldn’t believe this was the same Fred Jacob she once knew. She never heard him talk like this before. It was a stranger, a completely different man, standing in front of her.
“I’ll…I’ll….,” she continued, “Get you the money as soon as I can.” Hanging her head, and wiping her cheeks, she hurried from the store.
Shaking his head, he mumbled, “I don’t know what it is with people. They think they can take advantage of you all the time. I’m tired of it! Why don’t they go get a job and work like the rest of us?”
Fred slept uneasy that night pondering his life, and finally decided he was going to make a big change. Since gambling was an easy way to make money, he was going to close his store and gamble for a living. Displaying a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front window, his family store was sold within a few weeks.
Fred’s addiction led him to place huge bets on all sorts of professional games, basketball, baseball and other sports. He even started betting on whether it was going to rain or not.
Then one day, Fred’s luck took a turn for the worst. Instead of winning, he was losing on every game and every bet. Even the traffic lights were against him. Wow, thought Fred. I never lose. Must be a fluke.
He returned to the restaurant where he and Harry began betting on horses. Making one bet after another, Fred couldn’t win on any of them. I can’t believe it. I used to win all the time. Now, I’m not even sure how much I’ve lost.
Fred’s bad turn of luck led him to making another trip back to the big city, hoping his good fortune would return. I’ll win my money back in no time
.
Packing up his fancy clothes, and jewelry he headed for the airport to the casinos.
“Hi, Fred,” said the man at the check-out counter. “Back so soon?”
“Yeah. Decided to hang up working for a living, and start making money the easy way. Who wants to work?” He chuckled.
“Well, you do seem to be lucky, so I don’t blame you. Me? I’ll be working here probably the rest of my life.”
Fred couldn’t wait to start winning his money back. Without eating dinner, he immediately went to the high stakes poker table, and lost every hand.
“Easy come, easy go,” said Charlie, the dealer. “Sometimes the cards don’t go your way.”
“Yeah. I think I’ll play some blackjack.”
His luck didn’t change at the blackjack table either. Anytime he had twenty, the dealer had twenty-one. If Fred had nineteen, the dealer had twenty. If Fred had blackjack, the dealer had a blackjack. Fred moved to the slot machines where he continually inserted bills. He sat mesmerized, listening to the bells and music, and watching spinning reels and flashing lights, only to walk away without a win.
Getting low on funds, Fred decided to go back home and pool together his remaining savings, retirement money and cash. He went to the bank and depleted everything from his accounts. He drove to Arlene and Bill’s, and knocked loudly on the front door. Arlene answered and saw Fred, red faced and snorting. “I want my twenty! You owe me twenty dollars!”
Reaching into her jeans pocket, Arlene withdrew a crumpled bill. Handing it to Fred, she calmly said, “I stopped by to pay you, but I saw you sold your store, and no one knew where you were. Here, take it. I don’t owe you anything anymore, and don’t ever come to our house again.You’re a miserable, miserly old man!”
Snatching the twenty dollars from Arlene’s hand, Fred put it in his briefcase. On his way home, he walked past the park where he sat down on a bench, trying to figure out how he could turn his luck around. When he lifted his head, he spied Paul and Lou riding their bikes through the park.
“Hey, you kids!” screamed Fred, running towards the boys, leaving his case underneath the bench. “You kids still owe me twenty-nine cents from the candy bars. You never paid me my twenty-nine cents!”
Paul and Lou looked at each other and knew that there was something wrong by the crazy look in Fred’s eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Jacob. We stopped by the store a few times, but there was a ‘Closed—Under New Management’ sign in the window.” Lou reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a quarter and a nickel and threw it towards the man. “Here. You can keep the change.”
Without saying goodbye, Lou and Paul took off as fast as they could to get away from crazy old Mr. Jacob.
Fred Jacob turned around to pick up his black briefcase, but to his dismay, it was nowhere to be found. “Where’s my case?” he yelled.
Panic and desperation set in and Fred started screaming at the top of his lungs, “Where’s my briefcase? It had everything I own. Where is my case?”
Chapter Six
The Eternal Tree
“Hey Nick, since it’s raining, any ideas what you want to do this afternoon?” asked Chris.
“I don’t know. After that last fiasco when we played Car Chase Supreme, I’m afraid to turn on the game console without my mom or dad being home.”
“We could go to the movies or…?”
“Or what?” said Nick, raised eyebrows raised.
“We can go up into my attic and see what kinds of weird stuff we can find. I’m sure my parents have a ton of things stashed up there they’ve forgotten about. They’ll probably leave it for me to clean up when they move to a smaller house, or die.”
“Nothing like being an optimist,” said Nick. “Now you’re killing off your parents. Let’s go see if we can find something interesting.”
The boys entered Chris’ bedroom and stood beneath a wooden panel situated in the ceiling. Standing on a step stool, Chris removed the panel and pulled the cord on the attic staircase. Dust flew in the air and a musty smell filled their nostrils. Before they climbed, Nick questioned, “Do we need flashlights?”
“No. My dad put lights up here.”
“Sweet.”
Climbing the stairs, hands waving in front of their faces, they swatted cobwebs clearing the way. Pulling the light chain hanging from the ceiling, they peered at dozens of cardboard and plastic boxes filled with clothes, toys, and books. Floorboards creaking beneath their feet, they walked to a large box marked ‘Christmas’. Opening the lid, they found broken trees lights and ornaments, and yellowed faded decorations. “See,” said Chris. “I told you parents save stuff they don’t need. Why would you save broken stuff that can’t be used anymore?”
Nearby were Halloween, Thanksgiving and Easter boxes with the same old, dirty, musty, smell. They thought they hit pay dirt when they found a box of old comic books.
“Cool,” said Nick. “I bet these are worth some money now.”
Chris reached in and pulled out a stack of comics. Leafing through them, he came across a yellowed folded paper. Unfolding it, they saw a poster of a man wearing a cowboy hat, chaps, a holster with guns and a rifle dangled at his side. At the bottom was written ‘John Wayne’.
“Who’s ‘John Wayne’?”
“I don’t know,” said Nick, tilting his head to the side inspecting the poster. “But by looking at the picture, he must have been some kind of cowboy. We can take it and the comics and try to sell them at the next garage sale. Maybe make a few bucks.”
Chris stepped further back into the attic corner, tripping over more boxes and old board games. Underneath the games, was a small box, with a faded colored picture of palm trees, blue water, and the word ‘cigar’ on the lid. Picking up the cardboard container and holding it mouth level, he blew the dust off the top. He sneezed as small particles floated in the air. “Hey, Nick, look at this. Let’s see what’s inside.”
Nick strolled over to Chris. “Remember the last time we fooled around with a box at our Truth or Dare game? I ended up pulling out a live mouse.”
“Yeah, that was pretty funny.”
“That was definitely a weird night. Did you ever find out why ‘Barry’ said his name was ‘Brian’ to get his hand out of the box?”
“Nah,” said Chris. “He’s become a bit of a jerk in the last few months. I don’t hang out with him anymore.”
When Chris didn’t make a move to open the box, Nick said, “Well, are you going to open it or wait for something to jump out at you? Go ahead. Open it.”
Lifting the lid cautiously, and peering inside, they saw bits of dried crumpled leaves, a medal resembling a badge, and another ancient looking piece of paper.
Picking up the medal first, Chris’ fingers lightly touched the five points of the star. “Do you think it’s a sheriff or police badge? It looks like it has some kind of writing on it, but I can’t make it out, and the ribbon’s pretty faded.”
“I don’t know,” said Nick. “Unfold the paper, and maybe it’ll tell us.”
Chris started unfolding the paper and a corner of it fell off onto the floor.
“Be careful. It looks pretty old.”
Once the paper was unfolded Chris announced, “It looks like a map.”
“A map? A map of what? Let me take a look.”
The faded ink drawing with washed-out writing showed a large outlined area, trees, and two parallel lines running down the side. One of the trees had a large printed ‘X’.
“Maybe it’s a treasure map,” said Chris, trying to hold back his excitement.
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” said Nick. “Let’s get the rest of the group and try to figure out what we have here.”
“Before we do that, let’s ask my dad about the medal. Maybe he can tell us something that will help us figure out what this box is about. Don’t say anything about the map though. He’ll be surprised when we find the treasure and we’re all rich.”
That evening, the boys told Chr
is’ dad their discovery of finding the box in the attic with the medal.
“Geez,” said Chris’ Dad. “I totally forgot it was up there. Let me tell you a story.”
Chris rolled his eyes. Every time his dad told a story, you were almost asleep from listening to long drawn out explanations that weren’t relevant.
“The story has it, that your great-great-great-grandfather fought in the Civil War. I forget how many ‘greats’ are in there, but it doesn’t make any difference. It was a long time ago.”
“Okay, we get it,” said Chris, trying not to sound impatient. “I didn’t know that. So what’s the rest of the story?”
“The story is that he saved his platoon during the war. I’m not really sure of the details, but there were probably ten or twelve men’s lives he saved. That’s why he received the Civil War Medal of Honor.”
“Wow, that’s exciting!” said Chris.
“That’s not the best part. His brother helped him save the platoon.”
“Did he get a medal too?”
“No, his brother actually fought for the other side. That’s why the Civil War was called ‘Brother against Brother’. His brother was hanged by his own platoon for being a traitor because he helped his brother, the ‘enemy’.”
“So that would be my great-great-great-uncle, or something like that?” asked Chris.
“Yes, but that’s not the end of the story. Family rumor had it that your Civil War grandfather never found the remains of his brother, even though he searched the area many times. Others tried too, but no one ever found where he was buried. There are even stories of people disappearing when searching for the grave, and it’s said his brother’s ghost continues to haunt, as his burial place was never marked. It’s as if he’s in a state of unrest and will not rest until someone finds his remains. To this day, it remains a mystery as to where his brother was hanged and buried.”
“Gosh,” said Chris. “That’s some story. I guess we never realize what our ancestors experienced during their lives.”
Chris grabbed Nick’s arm and said, “Come on, Nick. We have some homework to catch up on.”