Tango Mango

The pain she felt was unbearable. Sinking to her knees, Maggie’s body contorted into her smallest physical expression since the day she was born. Unable to comprehend, the woman's heart that had dotingly cared for her every moment since, would beat no more.

Agnes was the only family she’d had, a single mother whose every breath was inhaled and exhaled for Maggie. Juggling multiple jobs, working day and night to provide, Agnes had still somehow managed to have dinner with her almost every night of their shared lives.

An angel in human form.

In the mind churning days following her mother’s passing, Maggie felt she would never again have the strength to raise a morsel to her lips, nor tease the corners of her mouth to produce her signature gap-toothed smile.

Last call had been made. She was alone now.

Her childhood home loomed in the distance as she pulled down the familiar street. The wheels of her Jeep slugged along, elongating the worn stretch of cold asphalt they passed over.

Leaning her weight into the front door she wondered, “Had it always been that heavy?”

Nostalgia crept through the air as she began sorting through Agnes’ belongings.

Maggie’s body quickly grew weary, yet her mind raced down a speedway of memories. She felt the sudden urge to record her thoughts, knowing the timeless power of hand-writing may calm her spirit.

Spotting a small black notebook tucked neatly away on the tip top of her mother’s bookshelf, she pulled it out and sank into the couch.

Her fingers traced the cover with a solemn, thoughtful, meditative motion. She didn’t remember seeing this notebook growing up. Where had it come from? How had she never seen it before?

As she opened the journal, she immediately noticed, this was not her mother’s handwriting. As she perused the pages, she realized it was filled with love letters. Each one addressed to Agnes, each one signed, “With all of my heart, and every atom that makes up my whole, Tango Mango”.

Tango Mango.

A hint of deja vu passed through the room. Like waking from a dream, as you grasp at it’s fleeting wisp of remembrance.

Hours elapsed as she read, devouring the words affectionately weaved into the fairy tale before her. She never knew her mother had been so deeply adored. This man lovingly crafted their story leaving distinguished marks of unique beauty etched into each page. Maggie wondered who this mystery man could be.

As the story drew to an end she slowly closed the book.

“Tango Mango.”

“Tango Mango.” She repeated the name out loud.

Suddenly, it hit her.

She had seen that name written on a local geocache log. A favorite pastime of hers for as long as she could remember, geocaching was a set of provided coordinates, riddled with hints that lead to a hidden “treasure”. Mind you there wasn’t actual treasure hidden, but instead small trinkets called tradeables and of course, a log book to record your name and date when the cache was found.

Growing up, Maggie had always felt a part of her was missing, that she didn’t quite fit in. She was a brilliant child and would be graduating from high school a year early. Due to her high intelligence and lack of interest in social settings, she had very few friends and had spent much of her time growing up alone. Geocaching had helped fill that void early on. A subconscious analogy for a girl seeking the treasure within, the missing pieces to her whole.

She softly muttered under her breath, “Tango Mango.. I shall find you tomorrow.”

The sun had barely peaked its head over the hills as Maggie trudged through the canyon towards her first geocache of the day. Locating the old coffee can tucked behind a thick bush, she peeled open the lid. She quickly pulled out the hand scrawled log, scouring the list for the name that had rang through her dreams.

It wasn’t there. The hunt continued.

The next cache was about a mile away and she found it with ease. It was a medium sized pill bottle that contained only a small worn piece of paper as a log. Searching through the blurred entries, once again, no Tango.

The day moved along and with each unlucky cache, Maggie began to lose hope in ever finding what she was looking for. But hey, what was new?

She now had 2 caches left on her list to find. The next one located was a dark green ammo box, hidden in a mound of loose rocks near the river. The latch was slightly rusted so she used her pocket knife to release it. With a solid pull, she opened the box.

As she read through the log, a shiver ran through her body when she spotted the entry.

Tango Mango - 8/29/2007 - A safe place for a blue robins egg.

Maggie couldn’t believe she’d found it.

She snapped a picture of the log and turned on her heel toward home.

As she sat staring at the photo on her phone, the minute hand on her mother’s antique cuckoo clock whirled round like a never ending carousel ride. She read and re-read the entry next to the name and date..

A safe place for a blue robins egg…

She knew it was a clue, and wouldn’t sleep until she’d solved it.

Hours passed and at 3 in the morning, the cuckoo popped out to sing its awkward, ancient song. Sharp, shrill notes echoing from its home on the wall. She stared begrudgingly towards it. "Ok, ok.. I hear you. Time to pour myself into bed."

As she slowly stood up, stretching her arms overhead, the cuckoo caught her eye as it pushed and pulled its way out of the house. This little bird was painted light gray, with a charcoal head, and a bright red chest. It wasn't a cuckoo at all, it was a robin!

She leapt over the coffee table, spilling a large vase of condolence flowers in her lunge. Opening the the tiny door, she felt around inside. Maneuvering her fingers like needle nosed pliers, she grazed a smooth, crisp edge.

"C'mon, I gotcha...I gotcha..."

Then boom!

Maggie pulled her hand back out of the robin's home. Her knuckled grasp revealing a brilliant sky blue, egg shaped sapphire and a folded piece of paper.

Her mouth opened wide in shock, marveling at at the stone, "Wow.."

It was magnificent. She'd never seen anything sparkle with such a radiant shine. She unfolded the paper that was wedged next to the egg.

It read -

“Maggie May, I’m deeply sorry I couldn’t be there to watch you blossom and bloom. Before you were born, I dedicated my life to serving and protecting our country as an agent for a top secret intelligence agency. My dangerous lifestyle was no place for a sweet tulip to grow. Please accept this gift, a gem as rare and beautiful as you are sure to be. I hope it provides you an opportunity for your wildest dreams to come true. With all of my heart, and every atom that makes up my whole, Tango Mango”.

ONE WEEK LATER

Maggie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the number ringing in and knew it was the appraiser she'd dropped the robins egg with earlier that day.

"Hello, this is Maggie May," she answered.

“Well Miss May, you’ve got yourself quite a stone here. This sapphire is worth $20,000!”

Maggie’s lips parted, her famous gap toothed grin peaking through.

It was exactly what she needed to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming an atomic physicist.

*

A note from the author - this story was written for the "Little Black Notebook" challenge to create a fiction story about someone who unexpectedly comes into $20,000 and includes a small black notebook.