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Hoping for Treasure

By Bettie Boswell

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Chapter One
Ginny
Present day, January
Screech! Ginny cringed as Scott, her husband for all of ten wonderful
days, tried unsuccessfully to guide her grandmother's ancient desk
through the door of their home. James, a mutual friend, paused and set
the end he held onto the porch. They waited while Scott tried to push the
now slanting midsection of the desktop back into place.
Ginny bit her lip and clasped her hands. The treasured antique was
her inheritance from Grandmother Stuart. It had been the place where
she'd drawn pictures, written poems, and held tea parties with her
uncooperative brother during summers at their grandmother's home.
Research papers for her successful musical, Incident at Woodson House,
covered the oak piece during the last year-and-a-half. The idea of
destroying the old writing table during the move brought a shimmer of
tears to her eyes.
Worry involuntarily escaped as she blurted, "Please tell me you
haven't broken my desk."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. A weight shifted inside the desk, and it's
doing something strange to the structure." Scott bent at the waist and ran
his hand across the separating wood. "There are grooves in the top. I didn't
notice them when we started moving this monstrosity. I think it will be all
right."
She cringed as 'monstrosity' crossed his lips and bit back a comment
of her own about respecting history. Their marriage was too new to start
a fuss over an accidental slip-up. At least he was attempting to edge her
precious furniture through the door.
Scott leaned farther over the desk. "It looks like I can push everything
back together." He pounded his fist like a hammer and tapped the slanting
wood back into place. "I think we're good. James, lift on three, and we'll
head into the front room to your left." Scott signaled and both men
groaned as they hoisted the desk through the doorway and into the room
Ginny and her brand-new husband planned to share as a study.
Once the men left to retrieve more of her boxes from the rental truck,
Ginny smiled as she ran her hand across the smooth oak surface and
looked around the study. The space would be perfect for organizing her
fourth-grade lesson plans and possibly doing more creative writing. After
the success of her musical, the urge to write grew within her soul like a
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2
blooming flower.
During their Christmas holiday honeymoon, Scott complimented
Ginny's ability to write when they attended a musical at a theater near
their hotel. He mentioned that her play, which brought them together, was
much better than the one they'd watched. She'd been too distracted to care
as they snuggled in their seats during the enchanting time.
Her nail caught on one of the fresh grooves in the desk's top. She
leaned closer to inspect the marred surface. She hadn't noticed the break
before since papers normally covered the table. Curious, she pushed
down and back on the middle section outlined by the grooves.
The desk growled with the sound of a mechanism needing oil as the
top moved up and a compartment lifted. The open space revealed an
ancient typewriter. A box, held closed by a ragged strip of cloth, sat
wedged next to the machine. The scraping sound reminded her of
Jezebel's howls whenever the dog heard the chow bag open. The urge to
yowl with glee coursed through Ginny as she pressed down a few of the
typewriter keys. She should put some paper in the thing and see if it still
worked. Maybe there would be some scrap paper in the box. The tattered
cloth ends easily pulled the makeshift binding apart.
Ginny took off the lid, revealing what looked like a typed manuscript
and a string-bound collection of handwritten papers. A shiver made its
way down her spine as she tugged on the bow holding the packet
together. She unfolded a few of the pages, revealing poetic writing.
The penmanship on the yellowed sheets seemed all too familiar.
How did her grandmother end up with what looked like poetry by Missy
Hollings? The poetess was part of the Woodson family she'd researched
when writing her musical. Missy's aunt had been married to the original
builder of the Woodson house, and they'd provided a hidden room for
people fleeing slavery on the Underground Railroad.
She separated more poems from the packet and searched for
confirmation of the author. It only took a moment to spot Missy's name on
one of the pieces. The paper bore a much later date than the ones in the
journals and poetry used in researching the musical. The investigation
into the woman's life led to a dead-end after she arrived at Woodson
House. The last journal entry revealed Missy helping her aunt with the
Underground Railroad. The other writings Ginny explored indicated an
interest in a widowed newspaperman named Samuel.
Ginny often wondered if Samuel's attraction to Missy enabled him
to overcome the memories of his first wife. Perhaps reading these poems
would hold the answer. Since she and Scott were married, she hoped
others would also find their true love, or in Missy and Samuel's case, had
found theirs. A newer piece of lined paper, like the pages her grandmother
used for notes, fluttered to the floor. Maybe it would explain how
Hoping For Treasure
3
Grandmother Stuart came to have the verses. Ginny stooped to pick it up
and spotted her name in the salutation.
Dear Ginny,
I made your mother promise you would inherit this desk. You two
women are my creative descendants. Knowing your childhood love for
working on projects while sitting at this old piece of furniture made me
want to share its heritage with you. I never had your gift for words but
wanted you to know something about one of your ancestors.
When I was much younger, I made a rough attempt to tell your
great-grandmother's story in these typed pages. My writing will reveal
how she came into possession of this old desk and the delightful packet
of poetry. An elderly employer gave her both items. By now I hope you
have gotten over the past and found your true love. After all, this desk
needs a creative child to inherit it when you are old and gray like me.
Hugs and kisses to my sweetie,
Grandmother Stuart
Ginny held the letter closer and could almost imagine a lavender
scent wafting from the page. She closed her eyes for a moment and
pictured the sweet image of the pleasantly plump woman who brightened
her childhood with cookies and crafts. Her eyes popped open when Scott
entered the room and wrapped his arm around her shoulder while setting
a packed box on the edge of the desk.
"Hey, I've never seen one of these old typewriters up close. Looks like
this desk held a hidden treasure for you."
"More than one... In addition to the typewriter there are two treasures
for me to explore, once we get all of my things moved in." Ginny waved
the pages his way and then placed the poems and papers into the box and
set it back next to the typewriter. "We'll need to oil the hinges for this
hidden compartment." With a grinding squawk, she pulled the desktop
into place and watched the ancient keyboard drop back into hiding. "Right
now, the priority needs to be getting as much unpacked as I can and
prepping for the second semester at school. It's hard to believe school will
be starting up again in two days."
Scott moved closer for a kiss. "Our honeymoon may be over but now
the blessings of being together will begin. We can work side-by-side on
our lesson plans. Or you could always write a book based on your
research." He waved one hand toward his own desk on the opposite wall
of the room. Then he pulled her in for another peck on the cheek.
Her giggle broke into the moment. "How romantic, side-by-side
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4
lesson planning."
She rolled her eyes before melting into his embrace. They'd come so
far, from being unwilling partners in the musical's production, to a winter
wedding with a happily ever after. However, she could think of better
things to do at the moment than schoolwork.
Yips and howls from Carlos, the chihuahua, and Jezebel, the basset
hound, pulled them apart. The distant voices of her mom and brother
talking with James filtered in from the front porch. They'd arrived to help
unpack and return the honeymooners' pets.
"It sounds like the troops have arrived." Her hand slipped into Scott's
as they went out to greet their family.
Mom gave her a hug, before holding her at arm's length. "You look
beautiful, sweetheart. Married life seems to agree with you."
"It does, Mom. So, when are you and your guy going to tie the knot?"
She winked and pulled her mother's left hand closer to inspect the
sparkling engagement ring. Mom finally gave in to her long-time friend's
pleas and accepted his proposal. Roy's kind spirit proved his faithfulness
and loyalty to her mother.
Her brother Nathan cleared his throat and Ginny turned to give him
a side-hug as he tried to balance two boxes.
"I'm happy for you, sister." His elbow poked her in the ribs, making
her jump like she did as a kid. "My car is stuffed, like a Christmas turkey,
with wedding gifts from your bungalow. Where do you want them
stashed?"
"Put them in our formal dining room for now." Ginny's voice lilted
into a snobbish accent before she snickered and lifted the top box from his
stack. She set the container down to get a better grip. Jezebel gave the
package a sniff before licking Ginny's hand. She gave her dog a pat,
grabbed the box, and started down a long hallway.
"How formal are you going to be, sis?" Her brother hadn't fully
explored Scott's house before. His head swiveled, taking in one room after
another as Ginny led him through the historic home. The two dogs
padded along behind them, exploring their changed environment. "You
won't be hurting for space here. Maybe I'll have to move in with you guys."
"Not a chance, but I'll give you a good deal on renting my old place
if you're interested. I'd hate to see my little yellow bungalow get torn up
by someone who didn't care about it."
"I've enjoyed hanging out there while you two were away but I'm
more into apartment life for now. There was a woman who stopped by
and asked about renting the place. Her name was Loretta Luterman. She
said she worked at the college and knew Scott from the arts department
and church. The lady was really nice, except for her overpowering lilac
perfume."
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5
Nathan wrinkled his nose before continuing down the hall. He
stopped in front of one of the windows, framed in stained glass. Colors
danced across his face in sunlight brightened hues. "Guess we better get
busy putting the rest of your stuff inside. The weatherman says we're
going to have a blizzard next week."
~~~~~
The predicted weather blasted into town on Wednesday afternoon.
Ginny trudged to her car after school and brushed a couple of inches from
her windshield. The forecast suggested several days of increasing
precipitation, high wind, and low temperatures. When the principal
announced snow days for the rest of the week, her fourth graders jumped
out of their seats and danced around the room. It took several minutes to
get them calmed down enough to pack and head out the door to snowcovered buses.
Once her car windows were clear, she put the vehicle into slow
motion and plowed through the slush-covered roads. Thankfully, they
didn't live too far from the school. Her shoulders tightened as she
traversed what should have taken five minutes, but instead took twice as
long due to slow-moving traffic and untreated side streets.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled her sedan in next to
Scott's SUV. Her knight in snow gear waved from the sidewalk where he
leaned on a snow shovel. Barking came from the front window where two
dog noses made mists on the beveled glass.
She pulled her loaded tote from the car and made her way to where
Scott worked. "Hi honey, I'm home." She smirked, before welcoming his
chilled kiss. Her laughter broke their contact. "I hope our lips don't get
frozen together like in the movies."
"Stuck together for a kiss would be okay by me." His chin rested on
the top of her head as they wrapped arms around each other and did a
slow dance in the snow.
She leaned her head back with a giggle. "But then I wouldn't be able
to grade my papers during this week's snow days."
"I heard you're off. We'll see what happens at the college. Most of the
students live on campus, which means the college president rarely calls
off classes. What will you do without me while I trudge through the snow
to do my lectures?" His drama professor's comical expression made Ginny
hold her heart with a dramatic flair as they stepped apart.
"You mean besides grading papers and unpacking boxes, or
shoveling snow?" She hefted her bag from one shoulder to the other before
taking a backward step toward their front door.
"Checking student work doesn't sound fun. Maybe you should
explore the treasures you found in your grandmother's old box in the
desk." Her sweet husband shoveled another mound of snow from the
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6
walkway and tossed it to the side. "To be honest, I'm kind of curious what
you'll find. Regardless, you should enjoy yourself on your snow days."
"Actually, I've only got about two hours’ worth of grading, so maybe
I will enjoy my time off with some old-fashioned entertainment." She set
her bag on the porch and picked up a handful of snow. Packing it
carefully, she threw it straight at Scott's chest, to kick off some snow day
fun.
~~~~~
The next morning, Ginny stretched and slid the last graded paper
into her bag, which sat beside their bed. Lifting a muffin from the plate
sitting on her husband's empty pillow, she pulled her covers higher,
missing his warmth. The masculine scent of his favorite soap still floated
in the morning air. The fragrance mixed with the cinnamon spice
emanating from the raisin-filled treat she now savored.
He'd brought her breakfast in bed, before leaving to walk to campus
through blowing snow. Scott played his bid for sympathy to the hilt. He'd
compared his trek to an ancient ancestor walking miles to school in
howling blizzards for weeks on end. The wind moaned a little, but his
walk was only a two-block march through the snow.
Rustling sounds came from the dog beds across the room, letting her
know Jezebel's sniffer had awakened to the smell of the muffin crumbling
open. The thumping of padded hound paws and clicking chihuahua nails
drew near as they crossed the room. She stuffed the last of the muffin into
her mouth just as the animals began to tug at the draped edge of her
blanket. Her day off would include keeping the two pets entertained.
Ginny climbed out of bed and took a quick shower. Afterward, she
pulled on a warm sweater and jeans before feeding the dogs. Following a
quick romp in the falling snow, the dogs were ready to come in. Jezebel
shook enough flakes off her back to make a mess on the kitchen floor.
Carlos shivered until Ginny wrapped him in a towel she'd tossed in the
dryer for a couple of minutes. Once he warmed up, she used the same
towel to wipe the floor. Then they all headed to the study.
A tube of white grease sat on one side of her grandmother's oak desk.
The hidden compartment sat partially open, with dabs of the oily
substance covering each hinged joint. Scott must have gotten up much
earlier than she'd realized and had second thoughts about working the
squeaks out while she still slept.
Ginny pushed the contraption up and down while the two dogs
howled along with the high-pitched racket. Within minutes the
mechanism worked perfectly. She left the typewriter sitting in the open
cubicle and pulled the lid off the box full of treasured words. Sinking into
the loveseat they'd placed in the study, she opened her grandmother's
manuscript and started reading the dedication.
Hoping For Treasure
7
To my reader:
My mother, Betsy, often told me stories of her life as a young
woman who lived through the Depression and World War II. Though I
have no desire to be an author, I am going to attempt to tell her story as
best I can, perhaps in a way my children and grandchildren will find
entertaining, in a novel setting. Though I may fictionalize some of the
events, I pray you, hopefully one of my dear descendants, can enjoy the
stories I loved to hear as a child.
Elsie Stuart

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