Unusual Scavenger Hunt

My phone woke me in the middle of the night. It was my Mom; she said my Great Aunt Marla died, she had been ill. There would be a Wake and a funeral over the next few days. After the funeral, family members would meet with Great Aunt Marla’s lawyer to discuss her Will. She didn’t have any kids. Her only living relatives being my Grandpa, my Mom, my Uncle and his three kids, and me.

At the Wake, two days later on, February 8th, 2021, all I could think about were the good times we shared. We talked about art, books, and writing. Sometimes over coffee, other times while we hiked. There were a few times we ventured to Sheep Creek. I was closer to her than anyone else. My best friend is gone.

The casket was open and would be at the funeral, so I tried to adjust to seeing her knowing her soul was no longer within her body. Saying goodbye to a shell was awkward, yet my eyes dampened. I cupped my hand to my mouth before I began to sob. Her friends and neighbors gathered around my family and me to offer us condolences. They offered to help us if we needed anything. It was sweet, but I wanted to be left alone with my grief. No amount of words or actions would ease the pain or bring her back.

Everyone went to a small local church for the funeral the following day. I cried and spaced out through the entirety of it. Memories of us strolling bookshops, going on road trips, playing Scrabble and Pictionary took center stage in my mind. After the final prayer, my Mom nudged me so we could follow the hearse to the cemetery. When the Pastor finished the last prayer, family and friends took turns setting pink roses on the casket, her favorite flower.

It took thirty minutes to get to my Great Aunt Marla’s house from the cemetery. When her lawyer arrived, he led us to her office on the second story of a three-bedroom home. She turned the spacious bedroom into her office. Since she was the only one who lived in the house, one of the small bedrooms for her clothes and bed sufficed. The lawyer motioned for us to sit on the couch and fold-up chairs before he sat down at her desk.

Her Will stated my Grandpa gets her vintage rugs and rare tea set, my Mom her antique jewelry box and jewelry, my Uncle her 2010 BMW Sedan, and great-nephew and nieces could choose one piece of framed artwork. The pictures are her creations. I picked the Phoenix while my cousins chose the Dragon, Griffin, and Alicorn.

I hung the picture up in my office when I got home. When I stood back to look at it, I noticed the image itself was a bit crooked. That was odd. My Great Aunt was particular about her pictures. Under the back piece was a folded piece of paper. There was bank information on it, and it said to look on the inside of the frame. It had a small compartment. Inside was a safety deposit box key.

The next morning, I grabbed a coffee and went to the bank in a state of confusion. I never thought of her as one to have something stashed away. The planned mystery aspect didn’t surprise me. She did it when I was younger. The end gift candy, a book, or something else she felt like buying me.

After the bank employee walked away, I opened the box. Inside was a key and a little black notebook with rounded edges and an elastic wrap to hold it closed. The pages were blank, but an envelope stuck out the top. It was a letter.

08/10/2020

Dear Kaley,

You and I are closer to each other than anyone else in the family. They don’t understand our desire, our need to be creative. Our creative nature was cute and encouraged when we were little; that changed as we got older. I hoped it would be different for you, but they began to treat you the way they did me when you became a Junior in High School. They ridiculed and dismissed our creative passion; said we would never make it. That we aren’t good enough. Me in the area of illustration and you in the world of writing. Hon, prove them wrong. I did. Those children’s books I gave you about wolves befriending a phoenix, I illustrated them; under a pseudonym. The phoenix print I knew you would choose is one of the originals. I trust you to take good care of it. Now, as for the key, it goes to a lockbox. Go to Sheep Creek, where a mountain appears to have a nature-given impression of a falcon on the formation. Take a flathead screwdriver with you. Inside the vent of the old building across from the mountain is the lockbox.

I love you, Sibris!

Great Aunt Marla

With a grin at my nickname, I put the key and notebook in my blue tote bag. Great Aunt Marla called me Sibris because I was determined to survive and persevere amidst people’s coldness and life’s cruel disposition, the way the Siberian Iris survives harsh weather. I drove through Sheep Creek until I came to the falcon mountain and old building. After I removed the vent, I saw a red petty cash box jammed inside. I wiggled it out. Inside was a note, another black notebook, and cash. Her message said to use the $20,000 and empty little black notebook to pursue my dream of being a published novelist. The notebook in the box was a sketchbook full of my Great Aunt’s artwork. On the inside cover, she said she wanted me to have it to remember her by and for inspiration. Tears fell as I clutched it all to my chest. The person who understands me is gone but found a way to always be there for me.