Dear George

Chrissy jumped in response to a loud thud. The noise was Nate hitting a brick wall, literally; a wall that needed to be removed to allow access for Bucky’s wheelchair. It was certainly not like the other walls, that readily crumbled under the blows of the sledge hammer. Nate and Sonny were puzzled as to why a wall would be bricked in. Even more curious was a small wooden window in the midst of the brick. When the men cut through the wood an undersized room was revealed. The siblings stood in silence for a moment, baffled at what was before their eyes. Behind the wall was a sparse room containing a desk, a chair, and an old Kerosene lamp.

“Man!” they all said simultaneously, “haven’t seen one of those since we had the cabin up north”.

As her brothers worked to gain greater access to the mysterious room, Chrissy started daydreaming about better times. When her parents were still alive and could take care of their disabled brother, who, in actuality, was disabled even before his stroke. Emotionally and academically, he had always struggled. Deep in thought, she jolted at the sound of her name.

“Chrissy! Chrissy!” Nate yelled, bringing her back to bleak reality.

“Yes, sorry I was thinking”, she said.

Her brothers replied in unison, “Yeah, we thought we smelled something burning,” laughing to themselves. “But, we need help to clear this debris so we can get access into this room.”

Chrissy ignored the comments and began cleaning up the mess that had been created by their miserly attempt at reconstruction of their grandparents' abandoned old farmhouse.

While sweeping, Chrissy’s mind drifted back to a happier time before her parents died. Their lives had been far from rich, but they never seemed to lack. They lived off whatever the farm produced and spent many weekends in their primitive northern cabin: no electricity, a pump that required priming, Kerosene lamps for light..”Chrissy!”....sadly, once again she was beckoned back to reality by the bellowing of her name.

“Chrissy! Chrissy!” - Nate and Sonny looked at each other shaking their heads, muttered, “Yeah, we know. You were thinking again.”

Getting back to the task at hand, they agreed that she was the smallest. Sonny told her, “Crawl through that hole in the wall and see if there’s anything in that desk.”

“Seriously, Why me, and why can’t you just break open the rest of the wall?”

“Because”, they responded, “it’s all solid brick!”

So, Chrissy reluctantly climbed through the hole into, what she perceived was a precarious situation. In the darkness, she cautiously approached the desk.

“It’s locked”, she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” they queried.

She ignored them and began searching for a key.

“Look under the desk - see if there is a secret door or opening,” Nate suggested.

“It would be nice if I could see, it’s dark in here,” Chrissy grumbled.

Sonny turned off the flashlight, leaving her in total darkness. Chrissy screamed and he turned the light back on and pointed it towards the desk.

“You’re not funny!” Chris yelled, as she heard both her brothers muffled laughing.

Chrissy grasped briefly in the dark and found a hidden compartment and remarked, ”Wow, you’re right!”

“And that surprises you,” Nate retorted, before she could finish her sentence.

Again ignoring him, she floundered in the darkness with the hidden compartment until she located a key. Chrissy, curiously looking at her brothers, asked, “Why on earth would you lock a desk, only to hide the key underneath it?”

Her brothers quipped in unison, “Who cares? Open the desk and see what’s inside!”

She struggled to get the key to work, mechanics was not her strong suit. Nervously fumbling (“What if a rat was inside?” Chrissy thought with deep hesitation) but with continued coaxing, the drawer finally moved. She warily pulled it open.

Shining the light on her face, her brothers detected a look of disappointment, causing them to simultaneously probe, “What’s wrong, sis? What’s in the drawer?”

Sighing, she sadly replied, “Nothing but a small black notebook”.

“Hand it over,” Nate demanded in his typical big brother way and with excitement only a history buff could emanate. Revealing immense anticipation, he grabbed the small black notebook from Chrissy’s outstretched hand!

“Wow, this is amazing!” Nate said with elation. “Do you have any idea what this is?

“What is it?” Chrissy grumbled, struggling to climb back through the window. Her brothers, oblivious to her predicament, were completely absorbed with the notebook!

“It’s a ledger from our grandfather; the builder of this deteriorating old house,” Nate enthusiastically replied.

“What’s in it?” Sonny inquired.

"Not sure, but it has a lot of numbers and look; there’s a key taped to the back cover. Perhaps an answer to our prayers,” he replied softly.

Chrissy and Sonny looked at each other, before skeptically replying, “Seriously?”

Chrissy, agitated due to the lack of help escaping the dark, cobweb infested room, harshly added, “Unless it’s a bank note to fund renovation of this place, it’s no answer to my prayers.”

“It may be as good as a bank note. It appears to be filled with dollar amounts and a bunch of other numbers strewn together. It’s possibly money grandpa hid rather than put in a bank,” Nate stated, with subdued excitement.

Sonny and Chrissy’s eyes grew large and stared at Nate in disbelief, although they secretly believed it was just another one of his practical jokes. He was too much like his Dad; always joking and teasing.

Annoyed, Chrissy declared, “Our financial woes are serious, and it’s not the time to joke or waste time. We’re pressed for time, and we need to get this place ready before Buck is homeless, or before Dave returns with him and wonders what we’ve been doing.”

As usual, Nate disregarded Chrissy’s comments and sat down with the book. Like a giddy kid who’d just got an amazing gift for his birthday, he couldn’t wait to analyze it. Sonny and Chrissy glared at him, wondering why he had chosen to sit down with so much work to be done. They also wondered whether he was going to admit he was joking. Truth be told, both hoped that this time Nate might be telling the truth and this little black notebook would be more than just numbers jotted on a page. While they stood glaring at Nate, Dave arrived with Bucky. He’d picked him up from a temporary shelter so he could come see the progress on what, hopefully, would be his new abode.

Entering and observing Nate’s puzzled gaze, Bucky asked, “What you got there, big brother?”

“Just a book of numbers that we found,” Nate replied, reluctantly placing it in Bucky’s outstretched hand.

Chrissy pondered Bucky’s fascination with numbers and his uncanny ability to recall and recite birthdays, weddings, and deaths of family members for generations.

Sonny, noticing Chrissy deep in thought again, retorted, “Some of us need to get back to work!”

Dave interjected, “What can I do to help?”

Chrissy said, “I’ll get us something to drink first.”

As Chrissy returned with drinks, Bucky exclaimed, with the excitement of a child, “I know what these numbers mean!”

Everyone's attention was drawn to Bucky, as he matter of factly stated, “These numbers represent letters. It’s coded words.”

Chrissy wasn’t surprised that Bucky recognized the code. Even with his disabilities, he was crazy good with numbers and puzzles.

The men approached his wheelchair and listened as he explained how the numbers were dollar amounts and the remaining series of numbers represented letters which translated into words. “Give me a minute,” he said.

Bucky stated with fervor, “Okay, I’ve broken the code, the letters and numbers in the first line read: “money hidden in the milk house.”

Everyone quickly rushed to the old milk house, although its purpose no longer had anything to do with milk. The building was filled with junk. The men busily moved everything out. They found nothing. As Sonny walked out, Dave yelled, “Stop!”

Surprised, Sonny said, “What?”

Dave said, “Walk back towards me.” Dave had noticed that where they stood the floor creaked. “Hand me a hammer, please.”

Chris replied with eagerness as she handed Dave the hammer, “I heard it!” “The floor’s hollow there”

With the claw hammer, Dave pried up several planks, revealing a narrow staircase into a cellar.

“It sure is a lucky thing that Dave noticed the sound. We’d never have thought of ripping up the floor,” Chrissy excitingly stated.

Meanwhile, Bucky, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the small black notebook, nudged Dave, his brother in law, and with mixed emotion, smirked as he declared, “The second coded sentence reads “under the floor.’”

“Why didn’t you tell us before we spent all that time moving everything outside?” Chrissy asked with frustration.

“You didn’t ask me,” Bucky said, devilishly laughing as he spoke.

Naturally, Nate looked at Chrissy and said, “You’re the smallest. You climb down there. Here’s a flashlight.”

She stared at everyone with apprehension and trepidation, before uttering, “Seriously! Who knows there might be a snake down there. Then you’ll have to pay for my burial as well as the renovations on this house. If it doesn’t bite me, I’ll die of fright.”

With all eyes upon her, Chrissy reluctantly creeped through the small opening and down the steep stairs. Sitting on a shelf at the bottom of the stairs she saw a small metal box. “Here’s a locked box!” she loudly declared, handing it to Nate, who eagerly grabbed it.

Without missing a beat, they all shouted, “The key!”

As everyone began rushing back to the house, Dave shouted, “Hey we almost forgot George!”

It had been a long time since Chrissy had heard him called George. Everyone called him Bucky. Returning to help Bucky, Chrissy fondly recalled the reason her brother, George, became dubbed with the nickname, Buck! Supposedly, that was his first and only word for a while; apparently learning the word when he overheard his Grandpa say, “Wow, would you look at that buck!” That was what George called everything from that point on. He would point to a flower and say, “buck”.

“Chrissy! Chrissy!” Again she was snapped from fantasy by men yelling.

“Sorry,” she replied!

Nate returned with key in hand, and everybody gathered around with anticipation as he carefully unlocked the box. In it was a letter written by our grandfather, George Hart. The letter was addressed to his son, George, who had sadly not returned from WWII. You could have heard a pin drop as Nate read the letter aloud:

Dear George:

I don’t know if I will be around when you get back or if the cows will produce enough milk for me to keep this old farm going, but your mom and I have been saving money for your return. If you are reading this, I trust you have found the small black notebook with the key that we left with clues and we know how good you are with numbers that you will be able to figure it all out. We love you and want you to be able to afford your own house George, we hope this helps.

Love, Dad and Mom.

Nate gazed down at the old bills and coins with awe. He couldn’t believe it. “There’s nearly $20,000 in here,” he said, “and this old money is worth more than face value.” Choking back tears, he continued telling his little sister about George, “He died in the war, because his brother Norman was rejected. It seems that Norman had an asthma attack during induction and was sent home and George was called up. Now, here’s George’s grandson, their brother, George Hart, sitting in his wheelchair with a renewed hope and not a dry eye around him.