The Hidden Treasure

The unexpected letter arrived in the mail in a plain white envelope with no return address. Moses tossed it in the trash since it resembled an advertisement for a car deal he received the week before. Curiosity lured him to retrieve it and he brushed the coffee grounds off.

Life tended to be like that for him, trash or not trash. How many times in life did someone miss an opportunity, dodge a tragedy, or invite disaster by such a small decision.

Moses a junk man by trade, curious by nature, still searched for the accidental treasure that would enrich him forever. At sixteen, he read about a boy who found a box of diamonds in a junk heap. Now, at fifty-three he still hoped that he would find his own treasure.

He ripped the envelope open and slipped out a red card with a hand drawn white heart embossed on its front, a valentine. Moses, shocked, stared at the card. He had never received a valentine and had forgotten todays date, February fourteenth. His mom didn't believe in Hallmark type days and didn't allow him to celebrate the special days when young. She said they were all lies and a waste of money.

Charlie Brown, the cartoon boy, in many ways described Moses formative years and his adulthood had been the same. Halloween meant rocks, Christmas equaled loneliness and Valentine's Day brought remembered embarrassment of an empty mailbox in the class room. Birthdays, on occasion, meant a trip to the DMV to get a license renewal.

His hands shook and the card feathered to the floor when he attempted to open it, nervous. Who could this be from? He thought. Is this a prank? Marshaled bravery pushed him to part the folded card, the inside white. The pre-printed Will you be my Valentine? hand embossed in red ink stood out in a neat cursive on the right flap. The left side inked in blue with a smaller hand written font read:

Dear Moses,

You do not know me, yet. I have watched you for years work your business up and down the streets. Every morning I set my coffee time to when you pass by. It has been my extreme pleasure to do so. I have inquired, confidentially, through sources and I am told that you are a fine man. My hope is that you will accept this simple request to be my valentine. It would please me. Also, would you consider being my pen pal for us to learn each other? This would please me even more. Write to P.O. Box 927 of this city. If not, I understand and though a loss to me I will respect your decision. I am very shy and have my reasons for being so confidential. In due time I believe we can build trust to communicate in other ways.

Your most humble admirer,

Sara

Moses read it twice, walked around his small kitchen and read the note again. He sat down at the table and read it again. "Who was this?" He asked himself. "Was this a joke? A woman admirer?" The clock on his mantle struck ten times, his bed time. He performed his bedtime rituals but could only stare at the ceiling, his heart raced.

He thought through his routes. The morning route took him down the streets of the upper west side where the streets were lined by hundreds of brownstones. That didn't help, there were too many. He made a decision and got back up, grabbed his legal pad, and wrote:

Dear Sara,

In my fifty-three years I've never had a Valentine and would be honored to be yours. I understand privacy. I have lived alone for the last twenty years since my mom passed away. Happy Valentine's Day.

Moses

Moses and Sara corresponded for the next year with letters that detailed their days, hopes, and dreams. Moses carried his pad with him and wrote about his morning discoveries at lunch. Treasures like the fifty-five volume Classics library set someone tossed that he would keep and the large silver fork that he sold for fifty dollars. They talked about their favorite books and fantastic places around the world. On February thirteenth he received her letter dated the twelfth. It read:

My Dearest Moses,

This past year has been wonderful to learn more about you and your dreams. You are a wonderful man and I have grown to love you. I believe it is time for us to meet. If you are so inclined to do so then I will be at the Pasticceria Rocco on Bleecker St. February 14, Valentine's Day at twelve noon. I will be wearing a pink scarf. If you do not want to meet, I will understand.

Love

Sara

Moses read the note twice, walked around the kitchen and read it again. Then he sat at the table and read it again. "What do I do?" he thought. He had grown to love Sara too but it scared him to shift from the woman in his mind to the thoughts of a live human person. She had seen him every day, but he didn't know her appearance.

"What would they do, write letters back and forth across the table?" He thought as the clock on the mantle struck ten times, his bedtime.

He went to bed and spent a sleepless night worried about what to do. The clock struck five times, and he arose with his answer. He would go. Moses searched his entire life up and down the street for treasure and Sara had become more valuable than silver, gold, diamonds or anything that money could buy. She changed his life, and he felt fulfilled by her acceptance, intellect, wit, and humor. He loved her.

On Valentine's Day a man with roses sped past him on Bleecker St and another with two heart shaped boxes of candy rushed out of store and bumped into him. Moses, in his plaid Sunday slacks and white shirt, protected a Carnation he carried, Sara's favorite. He stopped and looked at his watch that read eleven fifty-five. He could see the Rocco's sign a few doors down.

"It's not too late to turn back." He thought, but mustered his courage and stepped forward. He entered Rocco's and the sweet scent of pastries in the display that lined the left side flooded his senses. Cinnamon, sugar, and other rich spices barely registered to his nervous mind. The narrow passage opened midway to an indoor garden set in the rear.

Sara, with the pink scarf, sat with her back to him. He walked forward and saw her for the first time. She appeared much older than him, at least eighty years old, with an arched back, gray hair, and wrinkled face and hands. She sat in a wheelchair. Moses, without hesitation, loved her more for her plight and approached the table.

"Hi Sara, I'm Moses." He said, kissed her cheek, and gave her the Carnation. "It is such a pleasure to finally meet you." He sat down across from her.

"I don't know what's going on sonny, my names not Sara, I'm her old Aunt." She said. "I was told if a man named Moses came and sat down with me to give him this letter."

The woman handed him an envelope and motioned to a nurse that sat at a nearby table. She came and wheeled her away. Moses confused, ripped open the letter.

My Dearest Moses,

Please forgive me for testing you this way but it is how it had to be. If you had turned away I would not held it against you. I recruited my old Aunt Margaret to assist me. I do not live a normal life and suffer from severe Agoraphobia and cannot leave my house. I am the sole heir of a branch of the Astor family, live alone, and must take extreme caution in whom I let into my world for security and also my severe anxiety. You are reading this so it is confirmed that you are the honest and sincere man that I thought you to be over the last year. I know your words and intentions are pure and that you love me for who I am.

Please, if you can forgive the test, a limo awaits you to bring you here. The drivers name is George. Please come. I can't blame you if you don't and the loss would be mine forever.

Love

Sara

P.S. Enclosed is a likeness of me.

The picture fell from the envelope to the table and Moses stared at her image. Her long light brown hair, with its yellow ribbon, framed her oval face and gray blue eyes that were separated by a shallow bridge and modest nose. Her equal lips molded her full mouth into a broad smile. She appeared to be younger than he by many years.

"You are more beautiful than I imagined." He said aloud to the picture and his eyes welled with water. “I have searched my whole life for a valuable treasure but instead you found me.”

Moses walked out of Rocco's and to a black Bentley parked at the curb and stepped forward to the chauffeur with the name-tag, George.

“Hi, I’m Moses.” He said.