Saved by The Mail

"What a day!" I thought to myself as I finally locked up the shop for the night. The nice weather was a blessing and a curse. It was nice to have a break from the rain, but it had everyone wanting to barbeque. It was a great time to own a butcher shop, but boy was I tired. I turned to walk home, so grateful my apartment was only a few minutes away, and that the next day was finally a day off for me.

Something seemed off as I approached my front door, and that something ultimately resolved itself into a box wrapped in brown paper sitting by my front door, with my name prominently on display.

Odd. Packages were usually left in the lock box at the end of the street...

Halfway convinced it would explode the second I touched it, I picked it up and walked in. I flicked on the kitchen light and set the box down, getting my first good look at it. Definitely my name and address, but no return address. And the oddest stamp I had ever seen! I had never seen one like it in use recently. It only had a colorful, flowing pattern on it, not the face of someone important or a flag. The pattern seemed to be in motion but stilled when I looked closer. And it almost seemed to pulse with energy? A shiver ran down my spine. But then I noticed the oddest thing of all - the brown paper on the box was paper from the butcher shop. It had our company stamp on it! A mixture of frustration and relief ran through me. One of my employees was going to get an earful for scaring me like that! Why hadn't they just given me whatever it was at the store? Feeling safer, I ripped off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a history book about this part of the country, of all things, and a note, again with my name on it.

"Greg, I wanted to start by apologizing for the odd circumstances of this package. I promise that one day, you will understand everything. From the paper on the box, you know that I am someone close to you, someone you can trust. Now I am going to use that trust and ask you to do something for me. I know tomorrow is your day off. I need you to go into town, to your favorite coffee shop, and have breakfast. You must take the book with you, that is key. I feel like I cannot say more, only to again ask you to trust me, and to again promise that one day you will understand. A friend.”

What the hell? I slept fitfully that night, not able to take my mind off the mysterious box. It had to be some sort of prank by someone at the store. What else could it be? Feeling utter disbelief that I was going through with it, I did set out in the morning, book in hand, toward my favorite coffee shop. The whole time I walked I pictured someone having a good laugh at my expense.

Already familiar with me at the coffee shop, I did not even have to tell them my order. After greeting everyone good morning and paying for my meal, I sat down at my usual table to await my food, the book laying on the table as an unusual, and somewhat unwelcome guest.

“Excuse me,” said a soft voice near my shoulder, and I turned to see the most beautiful woman of my entire life.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, and this probably seems very odd of me to ask given that I’m a stranger, but is it at all possible that I borrow your book? I am new in town, a writer here on an assignment. I was just in the bookshop across the road, looking for that exact book you have there. They did not have it however, and I thought I would come in here for a snack to cheer me up before continuing with my day, and well, anyway, I am rambling now. My name is Bella. And what is yours?” She said all this in a breathless rush and then stuck out her hand for a handshake. I had the strangest urge to kiss it instead.

Bella joined me for breakfast that day, and I did let her borrow that book. She never left town after her assignment was over, and we were married that fall.

Years later, my grandfather had passed away. With most of our family scattered to other ends of the country, it fell to me to sort through his belongings. It felt so odd to be in his house without him, like I was trespassing, but this had to be done. I sighed and sat down to start with a box he told me he would leave in his office, one that he had not wanted me to open until he was gone. I first opened the note he had laid on top and was quickly astounded.

“Greg, first, I want to say that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this while I was still alive. I did not know how, and perhaps I was afraid of facing your disbelief, or having you think I was an old fool. I also trust that you will treat this knowledge with the respect it deserves and use it carefully. The family has long been in possession of some magical items, passed down through many years. Yes, I said magical, and I mean it. They are included here. When you told me how you met Bella, I almost said something then, but chose to wait. One of the items here is a book of stamps, but they are not your ordinary stamps. They can mail anything, to anyone, at any point in time. There are limitations. You cannot use them to send mail to someone you have never actually met, and perhaps some other rules I have never been able to figure out. What I do know is they belong with you. You will soon understand why. When you are ready to use one, simply tell the stamp when, where, and to whom you want the package to go and post it normally. I will miss you, my dear boy, but I am certain that somewhere, sometime, I will see you again. The stamps taught me that. All my love, Grandpa.”

My head was spinning, and I was glad to be sitting down. The last time I had felt like this was the night I had found that package. The package! It could not be! I hurriedly opened to box, and sure enough, right on top was a sheet of stamps in a shifting pattern that I would never forget. My heartbeat quickened. There were other items in the box. There had to be, given its depth and perhaps one day I would look at them. But the only other item I had eyes for was a book that had been laying beneath the stamps. The history book that had been delivered to me so many years ago. The history book Bella had seen on my table in the coffee shop. I picked it up and opened it, leafing through the pages in awe. Another short note fluttered out and fell to the table.

“I bought this once you told me how you met Bella. I thought you might need it one day. Love, Grandpa.”

It all struck me like a lightning bolt. At the time, I had been convinced it was all a prank, but meeting Bella cleared any thoughts about the strange delivery straight out of my mind and I forgot to ever ask my coworkers about it, forgot to even think about it. Now I understood what had happened. That brown paper, the note from someone close to me, it all made sense.

“Thank you, Grandpa, if you’re out there listening somewhere!” I exclaimed. I grabbed the sheet of stamps, and the book, and rushed out to mail a package.