The Legacy

"Ohhhhh." Groan "Ohhhhh." Moan

“Jimmy! Hush! I can’t tell what they’re saying!”

Jimmy hushed. Sarah leaned her ear against the barely cracked open door to listen to their parents out in the hall.

“What? No! He did NOT eat a whole entire chocolate cake!”

“It looks like he did, David. He says he did, Sarah says he did and there is nothing but crumbs left . . . well, that and one seriously sick-to-his-stomach boy.”

“Why? Why would he do that? When did he suddenly go stupid?”

“He says he didn’t mean to; when he started he just thought he was hungry. Then he began thinking about your dad, how much he’s missing him and . . . well, he just didn’t stop until the whole thing was gone. Oh, and he’s not stupid, but terribly sad.”

“Huh. I miss him, too, but . . . Okay. Whatever. What about packing up all that food and heading home in the morning? Should I take care of Jimmy while you do that or . . .”

“Oh, I don’t see that happening. I have to sort and wrap what can be frozen, get the rest in coolers and bags and then . . . Sigh I understand the kindness of all your dad’s friends, but what were they thinking? There’s no way we can eat all that or take it with us!”

“We have one less chocolate cake to worry about, don’t we?” Chuckling

Laughing “That’s for sure!

“Hmmm . . . I can’t miss any more work right now, Liz. I have to get back to town.”

“I know. But that’s OK. Besides the food, I need to start sorting your dad’s things . . . clothing, mainly, to donate. And I can use his truck when I need to go any place. I don’t have anything pressing at home, so give me and the kids this week here. Then, when you come back next weekend we can tackle books and papers and . . . “

“Arrrgh. And stuff. My dad had so much stuff. All right. That’s what we’ll do. Right now, I just want to get a couple more hours of sleep.”

They closed their bedroom door and all was silent. With one last chuckling hoot, Old Owl left his perch, sailing toward the meadow for his own dessert.

“Me, too.”

“You, too, what?”

“A couple more hours of sleep.” Sarah crawled in bed.

“Oh. I guess you’re right. G’night, Sis.”

“What’s so interesting out the window?”

“Mom and Dad.”

“Oh, yeah? What are they doing?”

“They’re at the car. Dad’s leaving and Mom’s saying something . . . Akkk! Quit leaning on me! You made me miss it! Dad’s in the car now . . . they’re kissing . . .”

“Ugh.”

“Oh, stop it. They always kiss. They kiss a lot. Dad’s backing the car now . . . Oops. Mom’s looking up here!”

“Is it a good look or a bad look?”

“Huh. Good, I guess. She’s sorta smiling.”

Mom’s footsteps on the stairs sent Jimmy leaping back in bed, curling around his pillow and groaning. Tap. Taping on the door, Mom slowly opened it, poking her head inside.

“Incoming, dearies,” she winked at Sarah, stepped over to the bed and smacked Jimmy’s bottom. “And bomb’s away! Sit up here, young man, and start talking . . . both of you. What, exactly is going on?”

“Ummm . . . what’s going on? Whatta you mean? Jimmy ate all that cake and made himself sick and . . . “

“No. No. No.” Mom waggled her finger as Jimmy sat up. “Nice try, but I’m pretty sure that did not happen. What I want to know is why you tried to make your dad and me think it did.”

Jimmy looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at Jimmy and shrugged.

“Gramps said Mom would help us, Jimmy.”

“Wait. What?” Mom sat on Jimmy’s bed. “When did Gramps tell you that and why?”

Jimmy nodded. Sarah pulled the letter and map out from under her pillow, held them close to her chest.

“We found this in the barn . . .”

“In a really cool old box in the loft,” Jimmy interrupted. “He’s sending us on a Quest, Mom.”

“A Quest, is it? May I see?” Mom held out her hand.

Sarah hesitated. “Will you help, Mom? Gramps said you would.”

“Did he, now? Let me see what this is all about first, OK?”

Jimmy nodded. Sarah handed her the papers. “OK.”

While Mom read, Jimmy climbed out from under the covers, moved over to sit next to Sarah on her bed, jiggling his right knee.

“Stop it.”

“Huh? Stop what?”

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“Yes, you are. Be still.”

“Shush, both of you. This is really interesting, isn’t it? What was in the box besides this?”

“Well, there was . . .”

“We didn’t get a chance to . . .”

“Whoa. One at a time, please. Jimmy, you go first.”

“Well, I don’t know really. I kind of remember Gramps showing me like old toys maybe when he showed me the box before. But that was a long time ago, Mom, when Sarah was really little.”

“My turn. And then Dad showed up and made us come down before we had a chance to see more.”

“While Sarah climbed down, I put the box back in a corner.”

“Then the first thing should be taking a good look at what’s in that box, wouldn’t you say? Get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast and then we’ll go to the barn.”

“Yes!” Jimmy and Sarah fist-pumped and scrambled for their clothes.

Too excited to sit and eat, Jimmy and Sarah spread butter and homemade strawberry preserves on their toast, folded it over slices of bacon.

“May we go now, Mom?”

“Drink your juice first.”

They gulped down their glasses of orange juice, then bolted for the door.

“I see the mail van coming,” Mom called after them. “Then I’ll be right behind you!”

“G’mornin’, Ma’am. That surely was a fine farewell for Jim yesterday. I’m going to miss him. We go back a lot of years.”

“Thank you. He was truly a good man, wasn’t he? It’s hard to be here without him, you know?”

“I do, indeed. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about this package, but since it has your children’s names on it, along with Jim’s, I decided you folks should get delivery.”

“What in the world could this be? From Canada? I don’t think we know anyone in Canada!”

“Well, Ma’am, it looks like somebody in Canada knows about old Jim and your children, doesn’t it? With no Return Address, I hope you find out who sent it from what’s inside.”

“Hmmmm . . . What? Oh, yes. I hope that will be the case, as well. Thank you.”

“It’s what I do. Will you be staying here for awhile? In case there’s more mail? Or will you want any other mail forward to you at home?”

“The children and I will be here for a few more days. I’ll stop by the Post Office with a forwarding address before we leave. And thank you, again.”

“That’ll be fine. You take care now.”

Liz Marshall frowned at the brown paper box. Setting it on the porch, she considered the strange goings-on while heading toward the barn. An old wood box containing . . . what? A letter. A map. A Quest, for heaven’s sake! A quest Pop has made me a part of rather than his own son. And now this mysterious package. Curiouser and curiouser.

Old owl, back on his rafter in the barn and pleasantly satisfied after a night of successful hunting and dining, opened one eye and cocked his head when the children came running inside. He ruffled and resettled his feathers and went back to sleep.

Jimmy scrambled up the ladder, retrieved the wooden box, and carefully climbed back down.

“Should we wait for Mom?”

“No. It’s too dark in here. Let’s take it back to the house.”

“Good idea.” Gurgle. Rumble. “I’m still hungry.”

“Yeah, me, too. Hey, Mom . . . can we check out this box back at the house?”

“Good idea, guys. Besides that box, the letter and map, things just got a whole lot more interesting, anyway. The mailman delivered a rather mysterious package . . . sent from Canada for your Gramps and both of you!”

“Really? Who do we know in Canada?”

“No one that I know about.”

“Weird.”

“It is, indeed, my dears. So, let’s get to it, shall we?”

“Where shall we begin . . . that old wood box from the barn or the brown paper box from Canada? Jimmy? Sarah? Which one?”

“Can we toss a coin, maybe?”

“Yes! Great idea, Jimmy! Do you have any coins, Mom?”

“Bring me my wallet. It’s over there on the kitchen counter.”

“Heads for the barn box and tails for the package, OK?”

“Tails, it is!”

“Annnnd now we have another box! This time, an old tin box!”

“There’s a note, Mom. Can I open it?”

“Sure, Sarah. Read it out loud.”

Dear Mr. Marshall,

My father, and your friend, Samuel Jackson, has passed away. This was among his belongings with a note (see inside) that it would have meaning for you. It also suggests your grandchildren are involved in this project regarding the URR, your family’s history as conductors and your home as one of the stations.

“Whaaat? What project? And what’s a URR?”

“Shush, Jimmy. Let Sarah finish and then we’ll see if we can figure some of this out. Go on, Sarah.”

My family is, of course, interested in adding our personal stories, as well. Meanwhile, the enclosed should be helpful in your efforts.

Sincerely, Marigold (the 5th) Jackson Adams

“Oh, my. I believe I know what this is all about, kids.”

Mom picked up the tin box, holding it gently on her lap. Lifting the lid, she pulled out a small bundle of dried marigolds wrapped in tissue paper. Underneath was a bundle of yellowing old letters tied with string, several old ledgers, and a rather new photo album.

“Jimmy. Sarah. I believe your Gramps has been keeping secrets that he now wants you to know about. He also wants your ‘quest’ to be shared with your dad, to help him understand how special this old farm really is.”

“But what’s a URR, Mom?

“And what does she mean ‘Marigold the 5th’ “?

“I believe that means she is the fifth person in her family to be named Marigold, Sarah. And URR? That stands for Underground Railroad.”

Part 4 to be continued in ADVENTURES