The Legacy

High in the rafters of the cattywampus old barn, first one golden eye and then the other opened in the absolute blackness of a moonless night. Old Owl spread sharp talons pushed off the beam perch. The small, furry critters that shared the old barn as their homes scurried between cracks, into open knot-holes, beneath scattered straw . . . anywhere safe and unseen from those see-everything-that-moves-in-the-dark eyes.

Old Owl soared down from the loft, out the open doors, into the night sky. Lights in the windows of the farm house down in the valley began to wink out, making the night all that much darker . . . all the better for an owl to hunt his dinner.

A blanket of quiet spread over the house. All the mourners from the funeral had returned to their own homes, grateful not to be the sad family who were missing someone they loved. Cakes and breads, pies and cookies covered the kitchen surfaces. Casseroles and potato salads, sliced cheeses and meats for sandwiches filled the refrigerator. The tradition of feeding the sorrowing had been met.

Light still spilled out and onto the yard from only one window, at the top of the house. Inside, Jimmy and Sarah sat cross-legged on a rag rug, braided by a grand or great-grand mother long ago; heads close together, voices hushed, the letter and map from the barn box between them.

“We need to finish reading the rest of this letter.”

“What’s it say?”

“Patience, little sis. Patience.”

*Sigh* OK, OK. It’s just this is kinda like having Gramps back. I’m really missing him.”

“Me, too. Alright, here goes . . . ”

Dear James and Sarah . . . Blah-blah-blah. We read all that.

“Why did Gramps only ever call you James and never Jimmy, like everyone else?”

“He said Jimmy was a little kid name and he wanted to see me grow into my real name, James.”

“Huh? What does that mean? You ARE a kid.”

“I don’t really know, but, well, Gramps was James and maybe he wanted me to be like him? I think he was sad sometimes about Dad not liking the farm so much and all, like that. Anyway . . . this letter, OK?”

“Right. The letter.”

The first 2 clues were the easy ones - #1 this letter in the old box and #2 the barn. You’ll have to go back there after reading this, follow the clues on the map to the end of the story, understand your legacy. But first . . .

You’ll maybe remember that book I gave you a few years ago, how it was one of your favorite things to do when you came visiting – to read the story of Charlotte’s Web together. It was, of course, about a lot of things, especially about friendship, helping one another and – here’s the really important thing, COMMUNICATION. Sometimes that is THE most important thing of all, and it is a key ingredient to this search I’m sending the two of you on. Don’t forget that part in the excitement of the adventure.

I don’t know how much time you will have to carry out the search right now. You may have to make several visits here to finish, and that might be a bigger challenge than I would like for you. I’m just real sorry I didn’t have more time with you, to share the search and explain things to you along the way. But I know how smart you both are and that you’ll do just fine without me!

There IS a complication in all this, my dears . . . your dad, my beloved son. Everything about this quest (do you like that? You are on a QUEST!) is here on the farm, and that presents a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?

Now, I am a strong believer in children honoring their parents, following their rules and behaving. Your challenge, of course, will be distracting your dad from making any final decisions about the old homestead here too soon. I don’t know when or how or why he took to disliking the place, but he did. But your mom . . . well, she’s been like the daughter I never had and I think you’ll be able to get her on your side. But you’ll have to be clever as a couple of little foxes trying to get into the hen house!

By now, James and Sarah, you are very curious and just a little bit excited about this Quest, right? Good! All that’s left to say is this:

Be safe . Look after each other . Good Luck and Happy Hunting!

I can’t know for sure as I’m writing this, but if it’s at all possible, I am watching over you, along with God’s own angels!

All my love, forever, Gramps (James Alexander Archer)

“I love you, too, Gramps.” *Sniffles* Do you really think he’s watching, Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I do. If it’s possible, like he said. You know what we have to do now, don’t you?”

“No. What?”

“Convince Dad to stay here long enough to finish the Quest.”

“How?”

“Don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.”

*Yawn* “Can we do it tomorrow maybe? I’m really sleepy right now.”

“Sure. You go on to sleep. I’m gonna stay up awhile and think on things.”

Outside the open window, Old Owl perched high in the gigantic oak tree, swiveled his head toward the window at the crackling sound of paper, winked one golden eye. Nothing edible there, he turned his keen vision back to scanning the ground below for any witless midnight dinner-worthy critters that might be out and about. Scattered clouds covering the moon made excellent cover of darkness for spying a tasty morsel scurrying through the grass. Owl spread his wings and soared away in pursuit.

Inside, Sarah sniffled and sighed in her sleep while her brother read Gramps’ letter again and smoothed the map out on the floor, thinking, plotting and scheming . . . coming up with absolutely nothing.

“Dang-it. I don’t know how to do this, Gramps. I don’t think I’m ready for your Quest, ‘specially not knowing what the holy heck it’s all about.”

Two things happened - the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs chimed twelve times and Jimmy’s stomach rumbled. Jimmy had heard about midnight snacks, but he’d never still been awake to have one. Well, now he was and he would.

The bedroom door didn’t squeak; there were no creaky steps. Gramps always said he believed in things being “ship-shape.” Nightlights carefully placed along the walls showed Jimmy ‘s bare feet the way, down the hall, down the stairs, creeping along in time with the tall clock’s friendly tick-tocking.

Pausing in the kitchen doorway, Jimmy eyed the dark-shrouded shapes spread across the table. Perfectly timed with another tummy growl, the moon peeked out of the clouds, casting a broad silvery beam across the goodies and lit one like a spotlight . . . a tall , many layered chocolate cake. Thick swirls and peaks of chocolate icing shimmered in the moonlight practically calling “Me! Eat me!”

Staring at that tower of lusciousness, Jimmy forgot to breathe. A large winged something passed by the window causing the moonbeam to blink out, blink on again. Jimmy gasped, ran to the window, remembering to breathe.

“Gramps? Is that you? Tell me what to do, Gramps! Show me!”

Old Owl sailed past the window, skimmed along grass tips, snatched the reckless rodent in his powerful talons and soared away to the oak tree with his dinner. Out of sight by the time Jimmy reached the window, but it didn’t matter. A most stupendously brilliant idea happened anyway.

Cake! Chocolate cake! Tall, double delicious chocolate cake! Slathered with thick, super-sweet chocolatey icing chocolate cake!

Never mind just one slice of chocolate cake, oh, no! This burst of brilliance meant the whole gigantic and luscious chocolate cake!

Jimmy could hardly stand it, wanting to leap and shout and whoop it up. No. No. That would not be a good idea. In total silence he spun about, fist-pumping the air and grinning the whole time.

“Whew. Get a grip and get serious.” With a deep breath of determination, Jimmy stalked around the table, stopped and stared at all that rich, milk chocolate goodness.

“Whatcha doin’, Jimmy?”

*Eeeep* "Ohmigosh, Sarah! Shhhhh! What are you doing down here?”

“I woke up. So *Yawn* whatcha doin?”

“I have a plan. Dad has to go back to work, right? We’re supposed to close up the house and go home tomorrow. But I know how to keep us here a little longer and this chocolate cake is how it’s gonna happen.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna eat the whole thing, only not really eat the whole thing but it’ll look like I ate the whole thing so when I make myself vomit it will look like I made myself sick eating the whole thing. If I’m sick, Mom will do her mom thing and keep us here until I’m not sick any more and then Dad will have to leave us here to go back to work so we can go back to the barn and the Quest and all that. See?”

Sarah stared, her mouth hanging open.

“Never mind. Just stay quiet and pretend you don’t know anything but that I ate the whole chocolate cake because I was so sad and made myself really, really sick. OK?”

Sarah nodded, wide-eyed.

“Knife. Trash bag to get the cake to the bathroom to flush it. Smear icing on my face. I think I’m ready.”

“Can't we eat some of it first?”

“What? Oh. Sure. It does look pretty good, doesn’t it? And we don’t have to waste all of it, do we?”

Two hearty scrumptious slices of cake and a scattering of crumbs later, the bagged cake had been flushed down the powder room toilet and the chocolate-smeared bag hidden in the bottom of the trash can under paper plates and cups from earlier in the day. Sarah’s hands and face were washed clean; Jimmy had chocolate smeared around his mouth.

Upstairs in the hall, Jimmy grinned at Sarah. Sarah grinned at Jimmy.

“It’s show time, little sis! Wait ‘til you hear me puke, right?” Jimmy clutched his belly and groaned.

*Giggle*

“Shhhh!”

Splashes in the toilet soon followed disgusting gagging noises.

“Mommy! Mommy! Jimmy’s sick! Really, really sick!”

If anyone had been listening when Old Owl hooted from his branch in the oak tree, they might have noticed how it sounded like laughing. But no one noticed, of course.

Part 3 to be continued in ADVENTURE.