Carry On, Little Gabby

The pen was smoothly gliding across the paper like a ballerina dancing, or a bird drifting in the wind. Gabby was deep in thought as she took notes on a project she had privately been working on. Tabitha’s stern words pierced the air of the quiet building. 

“Gabriella, I need that draft before three today.” She demanded from her corner office, loud enough for the entire office to glance up.  

“IT IS GABBY for the 16th time. I also emailed you a draft yesterday.” Gabby mumbled to herself, knowing it would be inappropriate to yell in the office.

“You bought her coffee this morning and she’s still a jerk!” Jen interjected. Jen is the journalist whose desk sat caddy-corner to Gabby.

“Quite deplorable, that woman. She treats us like children. Hello, I’m 32.” Zach remarked, the other journalist across from Gabby.  

Gabby smirked at her colleagues' comments as she rose from her chair to walk to the corner office. If it was not for their constant jokes and support, there’s a good chance Gabby would have left this job months ago. She always dreamed of being a journalist. So far, it was not at all what she expected. The content she wished to write was apparently not what the paper had in mind for its ‘brand’. If the ‘brand’ was boring and unimaginative, they were succeeding. She couldn’t wait to get out of town for the weekend. She knew it was time she went to check on Great Aunt Barbara up in Kentucky.

  Gabby gently knocked on the door frame of the large, yet dreary office. It was fitting for Tabitha, boring and unamused.   

“How can I help you, Gabriella?” Tabitha questioned, barely looking up from her phone as Gabby entered.

“I sent you the draft last night on our work e-mail,” Gabby responded politely as possible.

“I know, I saw it.” Tabitha paused to respond to a text. “You know I prefer a paper draft.”

“Okay, I will get right on it,” Gabby said turning to leave the office, shooting an unimpressed glance at the lonely printer collecting dust in the corner of Tabitha’s office. Walking to the print and copy room, Gabby grumbled to herself. 

“She is always on her phone, why does she want print? If she wanted it that bad, why not use that printer sitting in her office.” Gabby printed the file in the copy room, brought the warm stack of paper back to Tabitha’s office.

“Here is the draft,” Gabby said, seeing no change in Tabitha’s face.

Gabby returned to her desk, impatient for the day to finish. Although she loved what she was doing, she despised working in the current environment. Gabby could not wait until she had enough money saved to start her own newspaper or news source. Gabby dabbled in blogs, but there was something about paper she has always felt an attachment to. She was still brainstorming ideas for the name of the paper.

As much as she wanted to focus on not doing work and brainstorming her own newspaper, her thoughts kept returning to that ambiguous letter she had received from her Great Aunt Barbara a couple of weeks ago. The reason she had been needing to check on her. Gabby wished she could just call her. Ever since Uncle Charles passed, Aunt Barbara refused to get a cellphone, much less pay for the phone line at the house. Gabby believed it was out of principle. It did not meet Aunt Barbara’s unattached and eccentric style. She had fond memories of spending her summers there in Kentucky with her Aunt and Uncle when she was growing up. Her parents would leave her there for weeks and months at a time in the summer so that they could dive deep into their work back in Memphis. They were both mechanical engineers. College sweethearts who ended up starting a business together, then along comes Gabby. The girl who has absolutely no interest in engineering or math for that matter. They always pushed her to pursue engineering, but to no avail. Gabby was always found with her nose in a book, deep in the world of imagination. It was her Uncle Charles who pushed her to pursue her dreams. What a wonderful collection of books he had. Gabby would have a library like his one day.  

Friday in the office came to a close and everyone bid each other a good weekend. The excitement built in Gabby. Finally, she could escape the office she loathed, in the city she adored. A quick stop by her apartment to grab a backpack full of clothes and she was on her way. The drive was beautiful, rolling hills and hollers decorated with a variety of evergreens and dogwoods. Half an audiobook later, Gabby’s arrived at her Aunt and Uncle’s estate. The summer memories flooded back to Gabby as she rolled down the gravel driveway leading up to the house. Gabby parked by the garage and followed the walking path around to the front door. The front door was a tall double door with a fern on either side. It was clear to Gabby the house was vacant. Great, I drove up here and she is not even here. She reached into one of the fern pots and produced a key to the front door. Aunt Barbara never did trust Uncle Charles to remember his keys. Gabby chuckled to herself as she opened the door. The smell of old clothes, wood cleaner, sage, and a faint hint of tobacco washed over her. She smiled at the familiar smell. As soon as she walked into the foyer she noticed a note in Aunt Barbara’s handwriting propped up on the table next to the coat rack. It read, 

Dear Gabriella,

I have left town for some time to visit France. I am unsure when I will return. If you would be a darling and check on the house from time to time. That would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Barbara

P.S. I left some old things of Charles in the library for you.

Gabby could hardly contain her excitement. Quickly placing the note back down, she ran down the hallway to the library. The French doors that opened into the library reveal the best room in the house. The four walls are lined from top to bottom with old and new books with an adventure on every page. This was the room that sparked Gabby’s love for books, more specifically for writing. Uncle Charles used to read to her every day during the summers she spent with them. In the center of the room sat two high-back leather seats; directly across was a small leather sofa. Gabby immediately began to go through Uncle Charles’ belongings, eager to find something to explain his mysterious life. The box was filled with a few tattered books, a bottle of single malt, two leather-wrapped rocks glasses, and a few other small trinkets. There was a small stack of thin black books, which Gabby assumed was a small volume of some sort. Their worn nature drew her attention. Grabbing the little black book off the top, Gabby opened the first page. Gabby felt her chest and stomach tighten, she knew this handwriting. It was Uncle Charles’ bold block writing. These must be his journals. Knowing no better way to honor his memory than to do as he did, she took the little books and the bottle of Scotch to the couch.

With some Scotch in the leather-wrapped glass and a journal in hand, Gabby read every word. What began as a quest to know Charles better quickly became a rollercoaster of emotions. From funny stories of Charles pranking Barbara to times of sorrow and losing great friends to sickness. Gabby did not learn any more of what Uncle Charles did, but she learned a lot of who he was as a man. One of her favorite quotes from him, ‘What a man does for work does not define who he is. Who I decide, at the soul of my character, is what defines me.’ Tears of happiness and sadness gently rolled down her cheeks. Gabby missed her Uncle. If only she could talk to him just one more time. 

The evening turned into twilight, twilight into night, and the night continued. The last little black journal had finally reached a finish. In Gabby’s exhausted and reminiscent state, she was quite surprised to find a little note at the end of the last journal. 

My little Gabby,

If you ever find these, it probably means I am no longer around. I hope at this point in your life, you have achieved those big dreams and aspirations. Carry On, Little Gabby.

Love,

Uncle Charles 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she read the short note. Uncle Charles always did truly care for her. It had been years since she had heard, or rather, read that phrase. He used to always encourage Gabby with these words whenever she was frustrated or at a point of indecision. Uncle Charles had purchased her a first edition of the book, “Carry On, Mr. Bowditch”. It had been the first of many old, and arguably classic books, he had gifted her. Uncle Charles had the very book himself. Gabby’s curiosity took over, she wondered if he still had the book among the numerous shelves.

Fortunately for Gabby, she knew Uncle Charles kept all the books in alphabetical order by author. Quickly finding the ‘L’ section, she searched towards the top. This required the rolling ladder she was so fond of as a child. Much to her relief, the book was there. Oddly enough a thick envelope was loosely attached to the book with twine. The handwriting was unmistakable, Uncle Charles. Gabby returned to the couch to open the envelope. She was completely and utterly surprised. Expecting an assortment of letters or notes. Gabby was holding what must have been no less than a couple hundred of 100 dollar bills in the frail paper envelope. If she were to guess, no less than $20,000. On the inside of the envelope, there was a small note.

Carry On, Little Gabby.