One Last Adventure

Every single instinct roared at her not to open the mysterious package on her porch, but even Avery would be the first to admit curiosity tended to get the better of her.

The last thing she’d expected that morning was to find a brown bowler bag, well loved with tattered handles, but wholly unfamiliar placed in the middle of her welcome mat. There’d been no knock, no attempt to ring the doorbell, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe whoever had dropped it off didn’t want anyone to see them.

She couldn't exactly leave it on the porch though, not with the wind picking up. She'd come out to secure the ancient, weathered rocking chair the previous owner had left when they sold the house, the rhythmic banging an unwanted symphony. Now, the steady thudding was pushed to the far corners of her mind as she picked up the bag, surprised at its heaviness.

Look inside for an address, she told herself. Or someone's wallet. Anything she could use to return it to its rightful owner.

What she didn't expect was the unending sea of green inside. Bills, bills, and more bills stacked as neat as possible without the standard bank straps around the bundles. Some crisp, some wrinkled, but more than she'd ever seen at once. It took a few long moments to notice the small black notebook atop the pile of bills, placed like a star on a Christmas tree. She grabbed it, careful to avoid the money within. She didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to count how much was in there, because then it would be real.

Instead she focused on the notebook. It was small enough to be tucked away in a pocket or purse over time, and she ran her finger over the deep crease in the spine before slipping off the elastic closure. A few loose pages tumbled out, and she caught them before they could fall to the floor. The first held a single, scribbled line.

One Last Adventure.

The other two pages were equally as confusing. The handwriting was shaky but still legible, yet written in such a way they made absolutely no sense.

Lemon Meringue Pie $2,000

Olive $4,000

Vivian $4,000

Elliot $4,000

She looked at the other sheet.

YMCA $4,000

Oysters $1,000

Uncharted $1,000

She did a mental tally as she went, and looked again to the mysterious bag. She threw her hair up in a haphazard bun, pulled out the first stack of bills, and began to count. It took far longer than she expected, but it was all there. Twenty thousand. Twenty. Thousand. Dollars. Every dollar accounted for, but no way of knowing where it was supposed to go.

Avery spent the next hour pouring over the pages in the black notebook. Most were grocery lists, doodles, or reminders for appointments. The handwriting became sloppier as she went, but she paused at a sketch near the back of the notebook. The lines of blue pen brought the subject to life; her head tipped back laughing with a cat on her lap. Avery did not recognize the older lady even though she sat in a familiar rocking chair.

Avery had known when she bought the house a few months ago about the older couple who lived there before her. That the woman had passed away last year and the gentleman was going into a nursing home. She checked the book again, pieces clicking together as she grabbed her purse, the bowler bag, and her car keys.

~

Avery watched the swirling steam as she fiddled with the styrofoam cup of tea in front of her. The staff at the nursing home had smiled warmly at her when she told them whom she wished to visit. He’d had no visitors since arriving. She didn't know his first name, only his last; the engraved mailbox had been one of the first things she replaced when she moved in.

A stern faced woman in navy scrubs rounded the corner, escorting a thin man with wisps of white hair. He noted the bag on the table before Avery and smiled wide, shuffling faster to reach her.

“Harold,” the staff member said as she eased him into the stiff wooden chair across from Avery. “This is your visitor.”

The pure, unadulterated joy on his face put Avery’s nerves at ease.

“Did Ev enlist you for help?" His voice was weak, but full of hope as he took one of her hands in his.

“Who?" Avery asked before she could stop herself.

"Evelyn," he said, as if saying her full name would help a stranger know whom he was talking about.

Her attention snagged on movement behind her as the stem faced employer who led him in raised her left hand in front of her and pointed to the gold band on her own hand.

"Evelyn,” Avery said, looking back to Harold. “Your . . . wife?"

He didn't notice her hesitation, only nodded encouragingly. "I know she's been slowing down, but don't tell her I said that. I only hoped I could get her out and about one last time.”

Avery looked back over his head to the women behind him, her face softening as the conversation progressed. She mouthed a single word that sent a dreadful pang through Avery's heart: “Alzheimer’s.”

She pulled the black notebook from her purse, spreading the loose pages in front of him with unsteady fingers. “She wanted me to make sure everything went to the right places, but didn't want to admit she couldn't figure out what they ment.”

“I made it more complicated than I should have.” He traced the first letters on the first page. Then the second. He did it again, his fingers moving slowly over the letters. Love You.

“They don’t let us see each other. They keep telling me we're too troublesome to keep together, but even the doctor told me this week we'd see each other soon enough." He traced over each line. “We were never blessed with kids, and we like donating to organizations when we can. We haven’t done much in the last few years because of Ev’s health. I was thinking she could do this last adventure for us. They never let me out of this place.”

The woman behind him sighed, but there was no annoyance in it. “You were out this morning, Harold. Steven took you for your weekly ride around town.”

He waved his hand. “I’m never allowed any fun, but I’ll let you in on my secrets so you can help Ev get some enjoyment. Olive, Vivian, and Elliot were our cats we got from different shelters. Ev will know which ones, just ask her. The best lemon meringue pie we had was at a struggling ma and pa shop on the edge of town, same with the oysters. The place along the shore has so many flavours and they always let Ev and I try. She liked the pickle ones.” He made a face. “I hated them. We’ve always helped the YMCA when we could, and Uncharted was the name of the bookstore we met at centuries ago. It’s a family business, still up and running. We walked there every morning to buy our newspaper from them.”

Avery hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. She pushed the black notebook toward him, but he didn’t take it.

“What’s this?” Harold asked, blinking at it.

“It’s yours,” Avery said gently.

“No.” He shook his head. “But that’s a nice bag you got there. I have one just like it.”

Avery looked to the staff member whose face was carefully composed as she moved toward him. “Harold. You should get some rest.”

He nodded, the gesture weak and small. “Yes. Yes, I’m quite tired.”

Avery hastily rifled through the book, tearing out a page. She pressed it into Harold’s hand, not giving him a choice but to take it. He looked down and though he smiled, it was not with any familiarity. “This is a lovely drawing. Did you do this?”

“No,” Avery breathed, her heart cracking despite not knowing this man. “But I’d really like you to have it.”

He reached out to pat her cheek. "Kindness, my dear girl, is a valuable thing."

He said nothing else, and Avery didn’t know what to say as his hunched form disappeared around the corner. She gave herself a few long moments to compose herself, to fight back the onslaught of emotions rushing through her. She grabbed the bag and returned to her car. She’d have to research some of the places, try to figure out what rescues and restaurants he ment, but she should at least start with the ones she knew. She’d go on one last adventure, for both Evelyn and Harold. The extraordinary circumstances around the money wasn’t anything she could’ve dreamed of, but it was a special task that had somehow fallen into her lap.

The money didn’t matter, not in the long run.

What really mattered, was the kindness she could show to others.

“Alright,” she muttered to herself, squaring her shoulders. “Time for an adventure.”