The Unexpected Gift

Delayed at the railroad tracks, Evie’s mind traveled back to the events of the previous week.

“Nonna wanted you to have this.”

Evie brushed a tear aside and gazed down at the brown paper wrapping. “What is it?” She questioned.

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, she wanted you to have it. Do you want it?”

Evie shrugged her shoulders and accepted the package with mixed emotions. She gently placed it in her bag and made a mental note to explore its contents before she went to bed that night. After glancing over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the casket, Evie sauntered to the car where her family headed to the cemetery.

The final rose was ceremoniously laid, signaling to the crowd it was time to disburse. An older but sophisticated, dark-haired woman with hazel brown eyes approached Evie. “Evelina was your grandmother?” She asked with a gentille Italian accent. Evie nodded her head and noticed the woman’s shiny new black shoes, cleared her throat and said faintly, “She was my Nonna.”

“You’re named after her, right?”

Evie wondered where this was going.

“Your Nonna was—” The lady searched to find the right word.

“—In Italy we would say, nella botte piccola, c’è il vino buono. She’s a good one,” The woman finally remarked. “An exceptional lady. There was a time when things were pretty desperate. She helped me out of a bad spot. I might still be living in the streets.”

Her voice trailed off as she gently put her hands on Evie’s shoulders and peered into her eyes. With strength she continued, “But she gave me hope. I am somebody because Evelina—your Nonna—believed in me. Evelina awakened surprise in the most unexpected people—like me. I just want you to know that.”

Evie pondered the woman’s words as she sashayed away. She was consoled by this story.

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The train whistle interrupted Evie’s reflections. The package! It was still in her bag. She tore the brown paper from a well-worn, little black book. Immediately she flipped through its pages, noticing drawings throughout. Sketches of places, people, and objects filled the pages with words to accompany each one. This would require more time to digest than this fleeting moment.

A post card slipped out of the book, and Evie’s gaze rotated to a picture of the Eiffel Tower as her reflexes caught the card in her hand. Evie recognized the iconic landmark from a movie she had once enjoyed with her family.

A different hand had penned the following words on the post card. It was written in Italian, but Evie understood.

December 1, 1997

My Dear Evelina,

I read In Patagonia on the plane, and it inspired me. When I saw this empty moleskine on a shelf in Paris, I immediately knew this would be your next gift. I know how you love to write stories. When I retire next year, let’s travel the world together. You can journal about each of our adventures.

All of my Love, Leo.

The words Per sempre tua were hand-written on the front of the card, and Evie interpreted with a whisper, “Forever yours.” She wished she had known him.

Moments later the bus driver announced the stalled train would detain them a little while longer, and they might want to drop their windows for some fresh air. Evie complied, then settled her head into the seatback and closed her eyes, filled with wonder about her grandfather, and the places he may have taken his love. Sounds helped pass the time and lulled her into a sleepy daze. Children laughing, a cardinal chirping, and the soft strum of a 12-string guitar quietly resonating from somewhere down the street. Evie’s mind reverted to another occasion from the previous week.

She was eating lunch, admiring her friend’s guitar. “You are really good,” She complimented her friend. The quizzical look on her friend’s face wanted more. Evie remarked, “I’ve heard you play. You were practicing when I walked by the music room the other day.”

At once, the other girl’s countenance dropped, “Hey, I’m so sorry about your Nonna. She was special.”

Evie nodded. “Thanks.”

“By the way, do you know how I got this?” motioning to her guitar.

Evie shook her head, and the girl continued. “I picked up a guitar in the music store one day and started strumming. Daddy heard me playing and said I had talent. He did not compliment as freely as you, so this was quite a moment for me. Anyway, I told him I wanted to play in church, but we couldn’t afford to buy one. Your Nonna overheard us talking—well—arguing. She gave my Daddy the money to buy the nicest guitar in the store. He tried not to take it, but she insisted it was a gift. She said to him, ‘You wouldn’t want to take away my blessing now, would you?’ I’ll never forget her.”

Evie smiled and her mind shifted to yet another day.

She was at the mall with her mother. While her mother was busy talking with the clerk, a young widow recognized Evie. She apparently needed medicine for her sick child a few years earlier, so she told Evie her story.

"I didn’t say anything, so I don’t even know how she knew. She not only gave me money for the medicine; she paid my rent that month. Evelina was known for helping people. I went back to repay her, but when Evelina put her mind to a task, there was no stopping her. She asked me not to say anything, but I thought you should know. She was such a kind soul. I know you will miss her. We all will."

Evie nodded as she followed her mother out of the store.

At the coffee shop later that same day, Evie overheard her mother talking on the phone. “Remember when Dad died? She seemed to change. It’s like she gave up. She never travelled. She never bought anything new for herself. She seemed preoccupied all the time. She never remarr—” There was a pause in the conversation, then her mother sighed, “I know.” Another pause. “Yeah, I guess we’ll never know.”

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The whistle resounded once again as the train’s engine rocked into motion. The bus driver bellowed “shouldn’t be much longer now!” Evie opened her eyes and looked around as her pupils adjusted to the light. She pulled out the well-worn journal. She had already perused the pictures and had been waiting for the right moment to read the words on the page.

I know my writing will never be immortalized like Anne Frank’s Diary, or as elegant as Chatwin’s. But maybe one day these words will breathe hope into someone’s life.

Evie stared out the window as she contemplated what that meant. Near the tracks she spotted the boy, with tattered clothes and dirty face, who was days if not weeks from his latest bath. He reminded her of a drawing she had previously seen in the journal. She flipped back through the pages looking for the sketch of the train tracks. There he was, standing beside the tracks like he is today! Beside the drawing on the page were penned the following words,

I couldn’t pass him by. He seemed lonely and scared. I stopped the car, pulled out my wallet and gave him a fifty. His smile was worth every dollar.”

Something suddenly clicked inside of Evie. She likened it to the satisfying moment when a missing piece of a long and arduous puzzle is finally placed on the table. Bursting through the pages, the book’s purpose started to come into focus. Several drawings on the pages were identical to the memoirs Evie had been told. The lady with the sick child, the guitar, the woman with the shiny shoes, the boy by the tracks, and many others accompanied them.

Just as a tear of joy began to bubble in her eye, a light breeze circulated and tossed the pages in the journal, unhinging two pages previously stuck together. The ink was smudged from some apparent liquid, making it hard to read the well-worn words. It simply said,

It’s six months after Christmas. My Darling Leo was taken by cancer. What now?”

An even stranger notation was at the bottom of the page: "$20K."

Evie paused, startled by her new revelation. She looked back through the inscriptions below each drawing. On every page she discovered a small notation with a dollar amount.

The bus doors finally opened, and Evie hurried home to tally the numbers: $50, $250, $100, etc. Evie gasped and looked up in disbelief. Nonna had lived a humble life. Where did she get that kind of money?

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Twenty-three years ago.

He watched with eager eyes as she opened the journal on Christmas Day. Inside was a post card from Paris, France, with a note from her love. At first, she resisted. But he persisted. He wanted to give her the world, he said. After all, he teased, “one is more blessed to give than to receive!” Her enthusiasm amplified as they spent the rest of the day and well into the night dreaming of places they would go.

Six months later, his gift from an obscure life insurance policy seemed pale in comparison to the dreams they had dreamt. Solitary travel was not nearly as appealing or exciting. She missed him. Tears dropped onto the journal as she scripted “…cancer. what now?” She wasn’t sure how she would live without him. She pled, “What do you want me to do with the money? Talk to me, Darling.”

His urges for her to travel were never about the destinations, although that would have been adventurous and romantic. His impetus was meant to help her venture away from herself. To step outside of her comfort zone and do something different. To observe the world through altered eyes.

As though his voice responded to her question, immediately she understood, and her mind was transformed. Instead of travelling to exotic destinations and fulfilling the adventures of her love, she would help others find adventure—and hope—and to see the possibilities for a different life. Evelina wanted to make her community a better place.

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Present Day.

It suddenly all made perfect sense to Evie. Nonna had not travelled the world, nor had she looked beyond the horizon. Rather than seeing the world from a tour bus or an airplane, Nonna’s eyes were opened. She had a different perspective…through the eyes of those who had received. In so doing, she helped others to perceive a different world. She passed on her husband’s dream after all. Evie’s heart was full.

Evie went back to the calculator. “Could it be?” She wondered. She was confident the total would match the $20K notation. Disappointed, it was short. $19,950. She counted again. $19,950. She looked through the book a third time to be certain. What was she missing?

Promptly she found an envelope taped inside the back cover. It was well camouflaged, but Evie wondered how she had missed it before. Inside the envelope was a crisp fifty-dollar bill and a note from her Nonna.

Dear Evie, My Namesake,

I have left you my most prized possession. No one has ever read this book, because I saved it for you. It is filled with people I have seen through the years. Through different eyes. My goal was to give them hope, and to help them appreciate the world as well. My last gift is for you. You are kind and generous, Evie, and strong like me. I leave this seed that you may sow. See the world, Evie. And never forget, one is more blessed to give than to receive.

Forever yours, Nonna.