Missing Piece

In the town of Kinkleton a woman stands in her store with wide eyes. About 12"by 10" the light brown paper package has straight edges, a lacy pink bow and babies breath pinned to the front. It isn't however the package or its wrapping that causes her mouth to drop open in astonishment. "The Nolan's received a package?" she mutters out loud hoping that perhaps it would make more sense to hear it.

On the outskirts of town, that are more like woods, is a hidden cottage not found with a GPS. A married couple reside there for over forty years, completely off the grid. Despite the home itself seeming grimy on the outside, they have everything they need. Three wells connect them with running water, a generator and solar panels allow them electricity, and the wife - handy with needle and thread - sews their clothing. Rarely do the townsfolk ever see them in town , and when they do it is the sound of the couples rickety pick up truck that alerts them first. It isn't that the couple is disliked, they don't socialize enough for an impression to be made, they're just different.

Mrs. Nolan has what the kids call "witchy hair", a cloud of dark and thick hair that is speckled with gray and never contained within the confines of her braid. She always wears flowy neutral pants and a matching shirt. Mr. Nolan stands over six feet, always in denim and a T-shirt, always with a lack of expression, and always with his thick horn rimmed glasses. Both of them have wrinkled and tough looking skin from working outside. Mrs. Nolan never speaks, while her husband on the rare occasion that he thanks the owner of whatever store they bartered or purchased goods at, has a deep timbre voice that is raspy, as if he swallowed a bunch of gravel. According to local stories, the couple moved to the area in their twenties, never had children and prefer to be left alone.

"So the Nolan's have a package?" came the bored monotone voice of the diner waitress "who cares?" she asked refilling the coffee mug of a patron.

"It's weird" comes the deeper reply "They've lived here more than half their lives and their P.O. box is almost always empty. What do you think it is?"

"None of our business. They're odd but kind people" the waitress chides "leave them alone and stop gossiping."

Despite the chiding and acknowledgement of this one townsperson, word of the package has spread. Many visited the store owner asking if she discovered what was inside. Some suggested steaming the paper off to check, others claimed that the Nolan's would never need whatever was inside and to just keep it. Some agreed. All were awed by the beauty and care put into the presentation alone. Shaking the box yielded no guesses, dropping it to hear if whatever inside broke was out of the question, and the tape was too sticky to attempt a de-wrapping. Then the letter arrived, with the same swirly handwriting as the package, only the glue of the envelope was dissolved. Sliding back the paper the owner pulled out a picture of two young teenagers. Each stared at the other with adoration, wide smiles and shining eyes, their love clear just by looking. The second photo was more recent, only it was a blonde woman with a brown haired child. Both had blue eyes and dimpled cheeks, both wore big hats and denim dresses. On the back were the words: FAMILY TREE.

It seemed that a mystery had come to Kinkleton and the town desperately wanted answers to the questions related to the mystery box and now mystery envelope.

On the outskirts of Kinkleton Mr. & Mrs. Nolan climb into the rusted Toyota pick up truck and buckle up. Their drive to the town is in silence, each with their mind in a different place. Mrs. Nolan stares unseeing out the window, a sad smile creeping onto her face as the neighborhood kids come into view. Mr. Nolan thinks of his garden and what kinds of flower seeds he can buy on their trip. "Do you ever think of her?" she asks softly, with pain echoing in the silence of the cab "I think of her everyday. I think we would've been great parents if we were given the chance. If our choice were taken away" she mutters sadly turning again to stare out the window, unnoticing of the whit knuckled grip her husband has on the steering wheel.

In the town of Kinkleton the townsfolk heard the truck before they saw it, each person trying to find a reason to be in the vicinity. Each unaware that the couple was ignorant of their surprise. "Mr. Nolan!" cried the shop owner "You have a package here when you're ready" she yelled cheerfully as they parked. Both husband and wife looked at one another in surprise. A package? For them? They rarely received mail. Much to the towns dismay though, the couple took it in the car without opening it. Disappointment reigned until a new juicy piece of gossip spread involving the mayors son, the pastors daughter and an empty classroom.

In the outskirts of Kinkleton the couple known as Mr. & Mrs. Nolan unwrapped the beautifully packaged box from a stranger they had never met. Inside were photos with dates, places and ages, letters addressed to them in chicken scratch writing to curvy and flowy. "It's all from her." Mrs. Nolan muttered with tears. Mr. Nolan opened the scotched tape envelope with a photo of he and his wife at sixteen years old, finding a newer one of a woman with features in between a perfect balance of the two of them. "We're grandparents!" he yelled excited "she wants to know us!" he claimed reminiscing of the their daughter they were forced to give up at the tender age of seventeen due to societal pressures that led them to where they are now.

Though the mystery box was never discussed with the Nolan's the town always wondered. The mystery was put to bed when one Friday evening in the winter time and a pretty woman with a toddler came to town asking where she could find The Nolan residence. When asked to clarify the child, being impatient at three said "We go see grandma and grandpa now?" leaving the townsperson sputtering and the kind waitress to provide directions.