Her Mother's Treasure

She smoothed back her hair with her wet hands and then reached deep within the suds to feel along the bottom of the bucket. Her movements were slow and steady at first but soon grew frantic. “Where is it?” she whispered to herself. “Why did I wear it today? It’s Emma’s turn.” Unable to feel anything there, she slowly tipped the bucket onto the dusty ground. The dry earth soaked up the water until a shallow pool of mud remained at her feet. In it, something caught the light of the setting sun. “The locket! Thank you!” she said softly.

As her crouched legs gave way beneath her, she landed in the dirt with the bucket between her knees. She turned it upside down and laid her head on the surface for a moment before pushing herself up to use it as a seat. She carefully cleaned the locket with the soaked cuff of her sleeve and dried it with the edge of her apron. She opened it slowly to examine the glass-encased photos of grandparents she had never known.

The clasp was weak, but she did her best to fasten it back around her neck where it always was on Mondays and Tuesdays, but never on Wednesdays and Thursdays when it was her sister Emma’s turn to wear it. Today was Wednesday. Emma was sick in bed and hadn’t asked for her turn with the locket. What would mom say if I lost her heart when it wasn’t even my turn?

With the bucket in her arms and a bag of heavy, wet laundry slung over her shoulder, she walked back from the shallow creek bed towards the patch of sunburnt trees that sheltered her home. Emma and her mother had built their tiny cabin back when she was still too little to help. She hadn’t even been born when they started. It had taken them months to find a place to build and years to complete it. Her father had chosen a site on top of an antique 1950s bomb shelter, so they had protection from the weather and other elements when they needed it.

“Kristen,” her mother whispered as she approached the door, “it’s almost dark. Get inside.”

The soldiers never arrived in the daytime. No one went outside in the daytime. The girls were allowed an hour outside in the morning if they got up as the sun was rising. They had an hour in the evening to work and play as the sun began to set. Even still, their once pale Irish skin was darkly tanned. Their red hair was bleached stark white. They bore no resemblance to the photos hidden in the heart-shaped locket.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry,” she said as she pulled the locket from under her shirt. “I thought I’d lost it. I was looking for it.”

“Kristen. It’s Wednesday.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” she said.

“Well, I guess it’s only right for a girl to have something nice to wear on her thirteenth birthday. Someday, when segregation is over, we’ll throw you a real party with cake and ice cream and presents.”

“Do you really think that will happen? Will Daddy really come back someday?” It was a question she saved only for her birthday. She knew that it pained her mother, but a girl could hardly have a birthday without thinking of her dad.

“Of course I do,” she said as a wince of pain crossed her face. “You were up before the sun this morning. It’s time to get ready for bed. Sleep in my bed tonight so that Emma has a little more room. I don’t want you getting sick if we can help it.”

Madeline O’Neil led her daughter inside and took the laundry from her arms. She searched the distance for lantern lights and the sound of hoofsteps before shutting the door behind her. She dreaded the soldiers’ visits. It didn’t make sense to allow some men around the women simply because they were soldiers. It certainly hadn’t made them safer. But she was hungry, and her children were hungry. They’d confiscated her garden even though she’d hidden it under the trees. If the soldiers didn’t bring food soon, they would die.

“Put the necklace away now. I don’t want you falling asleep with it on.”

“I know. I know. Nothing normal. Nothing to make me think this life we are living is weird.”

“You’re too smart for your own good. Never change,” Madeline said as she tucked the necklace into a small compartment under a floorboard.

“Mom, tell me about before. Tell me again why the necklace is important. Tell me about my dad.”

“Oh, Kristen. The story hasn’t changed since last year.”

“Please, Mama.”

Madeline bent down to sit crossed legged on the floor. She didn’t like thinking about time before the blast; she didn’t like thinking about tomorrow. She’d survived by thinking only of now. “Things were good,” she began, “but we didn’t really know they were good. We had stores full of food and cars to drive there. We had so much, but we wanted more. More of everything,” she said. “You know, that wasn’t even my favorite piece of jewelry?” she said as she pointed to the floor.

“What was?” Emma asked weakly from behind the bedroom curtain.

“My wedding ring,” she said. “A married woman usually wore a ring that was a gift from her husband. Husbands wore them too—gifts from their wives—but theirs were plain bands of gold or silver. My ring was beautiful. It was thin and dainty with one large, sparkly stone in the center.” She laughed. “Well, to me it was large. It was with the first things they took from me.”

Madeline rubbed her forehead as she tried to make the memory go. It wouldn’t go. Soon she was back to where it all began, or perhaps to where so much of it ended. She was three months pregnant with Kristen and was standing at the front door of their home.

“I’m going to run to the store. Is there anything you want?”

“I’d love a bag of chips and a soda,” a man’s voice called from an office at the end of the hallway. “But for heaven’s sake, honey, you’re pregnant. Don’t run. Take the car.”

“You’re hilarious!” she called back. “The love of my life, ladies and gentlemen.”

As she turned to open the door, she was overwhelmed by a blinding light. She screamed out in terror and slammed the door behind her, but it did little to block out the light. She ran straight for her daughter’s bedroom and threw blankets over them both.

“Are you okay?” her husband yelled as he made his way down the hall.

“I think so,” she said. “I’m with Emma.”

Over the next month, they learned everything they could by yelling questions and guesses between houses and by asking the first group of soldiers who arrived delivering food and water. The Vietnam vet who lived on the corner had a short-wave radio. For reasons of national security, they didn’t let him keep it for long. There was no television, no internet, no telephone. The crops in the fields were destroyed. No single phenomenon, natural or otherwise, seemed to account for all of the damage.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said a soldier with the second group. “I’m here to collect gold and silver for Uncle Sam. I’ll need your wedding bands and any jewelry. Silver utensils. Gold or silver bars. We need to collect it all.”

She walked down the hall to get her jewelry from her bedroom. She could hear her husband in his office. She knew him well; he was putting their half-dozen silver bars under the carpet in the office closet. “I need your wedding ring, Martin,” she said slowly and clearly as she leaned into the office door. Before turning to head out of her bedroom, she opened her jewelry box and dropped her grandmother’s locket behind her chest of drawers. It’s not even enough gold to matter, but it matters to me, she thought.

As she presented the box to the soldier, he looked down at her hand. She pleaded with him with her eyes, but he stood silently until she relented. She slipped the ring off of her finger and placed it in the officer’s hand. “Thank you for your service to your country,” he said as he turned to leave.

Kristen looked on with regret as she watched her mother silently reliving the tragedy. She didn’t ask her more about the ring, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question she’d been saving for her birthday. “Why, Mom, why did they take my dad?”

“Stronger together. Weaker apart,” Madeline said as she stared at the floor. “Your dad was so smart. He saw it all coming. It wasn’t always like it is now. There were families, photos, paintings, books that weren’t government approved... They wanted to make sure that no one was getting pregnant; they asked about birth control. The crops were destroyed, and food was running out quickly. I assured them that I couldn’t get more pregnant and that I wouldn’t be asking for extra food once you were born. They seemed satisfied with that, but soon we heard rumors of men being taken for medical testing. Just men. That’s when we packed our bags and headed for the forest in the middle of the night. Your dad loved packing those bags, I think. People used to call him a 'prepper.' ”

“And dad found this shelter before they found him?” Kristen asked, pointing to the open shelter door.

“He did. Before the cabin was here, this was covered in mud and leaves. He covered it and hid us here. Close to the water. After he was gone, it seemed better to stay here than to go back home. The city was crawling with soldiers. Out here we had a chance to at least try to do things on our own.”

Madeline jumped up as she heard the horses approaching.

“Help me,” she whispered. She stood to close the shelter door and uncurl the edges of the rug she’d glued down with sap. Then the two of them lifted the table and quietly placed it on top.

“Rations,” said a voice from behind the door.

Madeline opened the door slowly and motioned for Kristen to move behind the curtain. The men pushed their way inside. “Would you please place the boxes on the table?” she asked, forcing a casual tone.

“Place them here,” the senior officer said as he patted the tabletop. Then he pulled out a chair and sat with his arms folded high across his chest. He tapped his right foot rhythmically on the rug.

“Everything alright tonight, Madeline?” he asked.

“Sure. It’s been a pleasant day. Not too hot out yet.”

“That’s good. That’s good,” he said. “You’ve been working hard, I guess.” He pointed to the sweat accumulating on her lip and forehead.

“Well, I guess,” she said as she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Emma has been sick. I’ve been caring for her all day.”

“So, not a great day.”

“No, not a great day, but the weather has been pleasant.”

“Anything to declare?”

“No. Nothing. I’m not growing any more carrots if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Alright men,” he said as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Time to move on. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

“You too, officers,” she said.

Kristen slipped through the curtain as the door closed behind the men.

“Shhh,” Madeline whispered, bringing her index finger to her lips.

When the hoofsteps had disappeared into the distance, Kristen pushed the table to the wall and opened the shelter door. Madeline smiled as a tuft of red hair appeared from the hole in the floor.

“It’s okay, sweet boy. Come up. They won’t be back for a while.”