Our Heart (47 page)

I shined light from the flashlight on the heart of my mother and father’s and then on my grandfather and grandmother’s. They had aged since the last time I had been here. A small crack had made its way down into my grandfather’s heart. I felt sad seeing it and wondered if all that had happened since I left was too much for the tree to bear. If it was possible to transfer emotion and human feelings to a living plant, then the old oak tree was more human than most people were. I let my light shine on the depiction of the key in the center of the three hearts. My own heart rose to my throat momentarily denying my lungs the air that they craved. Now, carved within the stem of the key were three sets of numbers. To anyone who might look at it, they would appear to be part of the overall architecture of the scene created. I knew them for what they really were, the combination to a certain safe in the room at the bottom of the stairs, in the basement of Grandpa’s house.

I left the tree and the memories of my last encounter there with Allison. The love that was so profound that day seemed so far away now. Grandpa Jake was cunning, if he was anything at all; leaving the combination to his safe in the one place I would eventually have to go to. The words from his letter came back to me, “The heart is key.” I was so close to uncovering all the answers,
that
I was no longer certain if I knew what the questions were. Part of me even considered leaving the contents of the safe unknown. It was very possible the things I learned would only make me sorry I opened the safe to begin with. The other part wanted clarification, and it dominated my thoughts. All the way down the hill, I planned on how to make it to the basement unseen if Justin, Aunt Marcie, and Great Aunt Vicky were around.

It was just as I feared; everyone was up and sitting around the table talking. I answered all the questions put to me with all the somberness I could muster. It was hard to hide the unresolved wanting to control my body. I finally excused myself and went to my room, letting the others know I was going to work on my eulogy. Great Aunt Vicky gave me a knowing smile, and the others offered me their goodnights.

Grandpa’s funeral was in less than two days, and I really did need to work on the eulogy, but I had too much running through my head to even start the process of what to say. I reread the letter from Grandpa and spied the guitar in the corner. I felt its pull and gave into it. Music had long been my comfort and the channel to my inner thoughts. When I played, the world seemed to make more sense and the confusion became slightly clearer. Soon I was playing a familiar melody, the same one I once played for the first time in this exact spot. Maybe the visit to the tree had stirred something I had shut away long ago; I didn’t know, but like it once drew me before, it called to me now.

Within the distant outreaches of my mind, I sensed more than heard the footsteps outside my door. They stopped at my door, but I continued to play and, after awhile, they moved on. I played on until it felt right; I let the music cleanse some of the sadness inside of me. The melody began to take on a happier tone as I played around with the chords. I slowly came back to my surroundings and I lay the guitar aside. When I looked at the clock, it was after midnight. As silently as possible, I opened the door and slid into the hall. There weren’t any lights on upstairs, and I could see only moonlight on the floor at the landing below. I headed downstairs.

The house was quiet, and I didn’t encounter anyone as I made my way toward the basement door. As I swung open the door, it sent a loud moaning creak into the stillness. I held my breath and listened for any sounds from above. Certain all remained as it should, I entered the darkness of the basement. I didn’t want to close the door and make additional noise, so I descended by feel alone. At the bottom of the stairs, I turned on the light to illuminate the far reaches of the basement and the room with all the mystery.

I withdrew the key from my pocket and unlocked the door to Grandpa’s workroom. I flipped on the light and kneeled before the cabinet door, hiding the safe behind it. I spun the dial to the right on the combination safe and then let it set at 22. Turning it counterclockwise I went back past 22 and stopped at 11. Turning it clockwise once more, I raced it past 36 and cursed under my breath. I spun the dial several times to clear the tumblers and started over. This time, I slowed myself down and completed the combination carved on the old oak tree. When I pulled down on the handle it easily moved, and the door swung open.

I once thought the safe might hold riches of both knowledge and material things; now I believed it held only answers to questions I believed might be better not asked. The safe didn’t allow for much light to enter. There was a top shelf and then the wide cavity below. I could make out the form of a square box in the bottom of the safe. I reached in and felt the cold metal as my hands surrounded it. The box felt heavier than it probably was. My emotions had been pushed to their limits, and my arms carried the weight within them. I lifted it out and, rising from my knees, set it on the workbench in front of me. I got back down and felt in the safe for anything else that might be in there. On the top shelf, I pulled out a
stuffed,
manila envelope sealed with string. I knew what was in it: all the pages from the journals that my grandpa had kept. My hands shook as I placed it on the workbench next to the metal box.

I stood for a long time just starring at the box and the manila envelope. I wanted to open them, couldn’t decide which one to open first, and I wanted to put them both back in the safe and walk away. There was nothing written on the outside of the envelope, and the metal box didn’t have a keyhole, a noticeable fact that gave me great relief. I didn’t want to have to search for another key. I chose to open the metal box first. It was an internalized feeling that what it sheltered wouldn’t be as hard to handle as the missing pages from the journal. I opened the lid to revel the contents inside.

There wasn’t much there, and I wasn’t too surprised by what I saw. The inside of the box was covered in a soft felt. Most of the items in the box were pieces of jewelry, Grandma’s wedding ring, which I had assumed was buried with her. Grandpa’s antique gold watch and chain, a pearl necklace my grandpa had given to my Grandma Sarah on their twenty-fifth anniversary, and other pieces with diamonds and gemstones lay in the box. There was a small envelope with a note in it. I opened it and began to read.

Randy and Jason,

Love is always more valuable than material things. The jewelry that lies within this box represents some of the most significant representations of love that two people could share. Your mother’s/ grandmother’s wedding ring is the most important of them all. It was her wish that Jason would find the opportunity to give it to that one special person in the hopes it would bring them as much happiness as it did for her. That is the only condition placed on the items here; the others are yours to do with as you desire.

My only hope is for the two of you find a reason to talk with each other and share the stories and memories you might have of the other pieces of jewelry. Call it a “last request” and a hope that the two of you will once again be father and son!

Dad/ Grandpa

I put the note back in the envelope and placed it in the metal box. I closed the lid and let it sit there. I would need to talk to Dad about the box, but at the moment I wasn’t sure how to best approach it. For now, it could wait, so I put the metal box back in the safe and closed the door. I picked up the manila envelope, tucking it under my arm, as I shut off the lights to the workroom and closed the door. I left the lock open on the workroom, no longer feeling that it needed to be sealed; the secrets within had been found.

I carried the envelope upstairs and closed the basement door, the creaky groan once again disturbing the silence of the night. It didn’t matter; I felt numb and indifferent. If they heard me, they heard me, and I’d deal with it then. I couldn’t shake the notion that things around me were out of my control and I was being led down a path in which only one outcome was written. I wondered if my dad was feeling the same way. Had Grandpa placed similar signs in his path? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t say other than by my gut feelings. I walked without incident up the stairs and into my bedroom; I think a marching band could have escorted me and no one would have minded.

I laid the envelope on my bed and turned on the light on my nightstand. I did everything to avoid opening it, brushed my teeth, straightened my covers, I even debated dusting my room. In the end, I sat down on the bed and rested my back against the pillows and headboard, with the manila envelope placed solemnly between my legs. I thought I knew some of what was written on the pages within. It was reading it and making it a certainty that was going to hurt the most. I had come to admit to myself it was more than my grandfather’s passing that had brought me home again. I had spent the last six years looking for completeness and, maybe, in a sad way, salvation. The events leading up to my leaving Cedar Junction had broken the union I had felt with Allison. Because of immaturity, we had been denied the happiness and promises of the future, succumbing to doubts and fears. We should have embraced each other and found strength in our unity. Like the ghost of Christmas past, before I was able to read the contents of the envelope, I needed to relive the events that changed the course of our lives and brought me to this point in my own disrupted life.

Chapter 28

The week after the prom I walked on air and had never felt so light and happy in my life. It started to change, though, in subtle ways at first. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could tell Allison was having some difficulty with what had transpired between us at the tree. I tried several times to talk with her about it, asking her if she was ok or if I’d done something wrong.

The answer was always the same. “I’m fine, just trying to make sense out of everything.” This wasn’t an answer that put me at ease; instead, I began to wonder if she was pulling away because of it. When the cracks started to show around my personality, Allison finally came to terms with what she needed to do and finally said something. We found ourselves alone in her parents’ house one night, and I could sense she was more than just a little nervous. I let her control the situation and talk to me in her own time. I tried not to be insensitive to the thick feelings hanging in the air or add any pressure to what was going to come.

When she talked, her voice quivered and was full of inner fear. “A week ago I was seventeen, now I feel like I’m thirty. I don’t regret for one moment the love we shared; don’t ever think that I do. I am afraid of what it means and how much more responsibility I have, to myself and to you. I know how much you love me; I see it in your eyes and feel it in your touch. I hope you can feel it just as much from me. The heart you carved on the tree is amazing, and I hope we get the chance to live our lives like my folks and your grandparents, but it scares me…the future.”

“You have all these plans to leave and sing in a band and be
come
famous. I like the
small-town
life and don’t want the big city, rock star pageantry. Not only do I still have my senior year of high school to finish and then hopefully college, but I don’t even know what I want to be yet. You have plans, and then what? Where do we fit in? Let alone me? Love got complicated all of a sudden, and I don’t know how to handle it. All of these thoughts and more continuously run through my mind, and they frighten me, fill me with anxiety. I don’t want to lose you, but more important, I don’t want to be lost by you. I believe in you and have no doubt you will be successful. I also know it comes with temptations that can make even the strongest relationships crumble.”

I was beginning to feel some anger building. “Can’t you see how much I love you? I wouldn’t do anything to break that trust,” I interrupted with tension in my voice. “I want you to always be with me wherever I go; you are the one I want.”

“What about next year when I’m still in school, and you’re out on the road somewhere? How’s that going to work? Do I get to go to college, or am I destined to be a roadie?” Allison’s voice had risen to mirror the anger in mine. Her body shook and the tears rolled down her face. “I don’t want to fight, but see…love isn’t so easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard, either!” I rebutted.

Allison continued to sob and I felt my anger abate. I was facing questions for which I didn’t have answers. I said the one thing I knew with all certainty. “I love you with all of my heart and I promise to always keep you in here,” and I pointed to my heart. She looked in my eyes and, once again, I saw the hope that had once been there. We sat together on the couch, our bodies touching, arms holding each other, but the spirit had been silenced and our minds controlled our hearts.

The next week became one of controlled moments between Allison and me. We spoke, but not about anything relevant; we kissed, but not with passion. We were together, but separate, and I didn’t know how to fix it. It wasn’t the lack of love but the cloud of indecisiveness and uncertainty that encircled us. Both of us wanted the commitment of love over anything else, but we were unwilling to give it because of the uncertain reality chipping away the promises between us. I wanted the road and music, Allison school and stability.

The timing could not have been worse, when I got a phone call from Jesper Donavan. I had put him and the notion of going to California to join his band at the far, back reaches of my mind. It took me by surprise. After some idle chitchat he cut to the chase. He told me that things were falling into place and, point blank, wanted to know if I was still interested in joining his new band. My heart sank, and all I could think about was Allison. For once, I listened to my heart. I asked him when he thought I’d need to be out there, with graduation only three weeks away. I wouldn’t have to come until after graduation and he’d be willing to spring for the plane ticket.