An Alpha's Inheritance

Hidden Treasure

Grandpa leads me out the door and down the steps into the backyard. He walks through the grass, and I follow behind, hopping along between the decorative paving stones. When grandpa’s path goes past the end of stones, I stop perched on the last stone like it’s the smallest island.

Grandpa turns back to notice I’m no longer with him. He ducks inside the shed then walks back to me holding a chainsaw. He holds it out to me and says “Well, come on.”

As soon as I take the chain saw out of his hand, he turns away and keeps walking farther into the yard. I stand there for another second. The weight of the saw feels awkward in my hand. I take a tentative step into the grass. Some pine needles dig into my sock as soon as I put my foot down. I take a tentative step with my bandaged foot, careful not to let the grass dig under the wrapping.

I take several more steps to catch up with grandpa til we’re standing beside each other in the yard.

“So see all those logs over there?” He gestures to the edges of the tree line, where some dried wood is stacked. When I nod, he says, “all of that needs to be cut down to bonfire size. I trust you know how to get the saw going.”

Without another word, he turns and walks back towards the house.

I stand there, wearing one sock and one foot bare save an ace bandage. My eyes grow wide as I stare at the large pile of wood to be broken down. I look down at the chainsaw in my hand and start searching for the on switch. Or does this one have a key? It’s got a motor right? I can feel my face start to grow red as I look for an on switch. Maybe a ripchain? Is that even a word? I find a lever to grip and try yanking on it. It comes out on a long string, and I smile for a second before realizing that the engine should have started at this. I pull the cord again, and when nothing happens, I turn around to glance back at the house.

I’m surprised to see grandpa standing a few feet behind me, a huge grin on his face. When he notices me looking at him, he bursts out laughing.

“Grandpa, stoopppp!” I whine. “Don’t make fun of me, I can figure it out! I promise.”

Between bursts of laughter, he tells me, “Lays, there’s not even a chain on there! Look at it!” He walks up and takes the saw out of my hand, and I see that, indeed, it’s missing the chain.

“But…” I start to mumble.

“I wouldn’t let you use a chainsaw without your shoes on,” grandpa says, still laughing.

He puts the chainsaw back in the shed and comes back carrying a worn out cardboard box. He hands it to me and picks up a second box. "Let's go back inside," he says. "I want to go through some old boxes of your grandmother's stuff now that you're here."

Relief washes over me as I realize what we'll be doing today. Sitting inside and looking at old photographs with grandma is going to be a much better experience than whatever would have happened with that chainsaw. I smile big and rush back to the stone pathway to the house.

Inside, I set the box down on the coffee table. It has a nice weight to it, but it's not overwhelmingly heavy. I can't resist opening the first box while grandpa is getting something else from the attic. The box is filled with old photos and notebooks and letters. I see little snatches of different knitting patterns in grandma’s handwriting. I pick up one of the patterns to examine it. I think it’s a Christmas stocking. I smile remembering the Christmases we used to spend here, hanging our stockings by the chimney, Gracie and I begging grandpa to start a fire, then begging him to put it out once we realized that South Carolina winters are way too hot for a roaring fire.

I dig deeper in the box and find letters addressed to grandma in mom’s handwriting, and what looks like a few old book reports. There are a few photos, mostly from my lifetime. I think the oldest I can find is from when I was a toddler. It shows me as a baby, sound asleep on the sofa, actually the same sofa I’m sitting on now. My mom is sitting beside me smiling down at me, and there’s a man on my otherside smiling over me at mom. I assume it’s my dad even though I have no real memories of him. I quickly shove the photo in my pocket so it doesn’t get tossed out. Everyone’s always been so loath to talk about him, I’m not even exactly sure how he died.

Under another stack of letters, I find an envelope with my name on it in grandma’s handwriting. When I pick it up, a gold locket falls out into my lap. I pick it up and turn it around in my hands. I quickly recognize it as the locket grandma wore all the time. I always loved this necklace. I run my thumb over the clasp and it pops open. I gasp. I’ve never seen this open before! Inside there’s an old photo. I hold it up close and study the picture. It’s a black and white photo, and it looks like grandma, when she was about my age, maybe a little older. She’s sitting on a staircase with her arms thrown around a big shaggy dog. She looks so happy.

I put the locket on and hold it tight in my fist, I’m so happy to have this, I feel like a part of grandma is still here with me.

Grandpa comes down carrying a few folders. “Oh, you found that!” He smiles seeing the locket again.

“Oh grandpa, can I keep it please?”

“That was in an envelope with your name on it, right Layla?”

I nod, excitedly.

“Then it’s not my choice. Your grandmother wants you to have it.” He hugs me. “I’m just so glad you found it. She left all kinds of envelopes labeled for you and Gracie. And then she hid them all over the house. I only found a few, and I know she made dozens in the weeks before she died.”

When he says this, I perk up. “I bet I know where one is!”

Grandpa looks excited. “You do?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Come up to mom’s old room, I have an idea!”

I race upstairs, and run to the dresser beside the bed. When I was little, grandma used to always hide snacks there for me so I wouldn’t wake everyone up at night when I got hungry. I yank open the drawer and push the blankets aside. There’s an envelope with “Alfred” written in grandma’s neat cursive.

“Grandpa, look!”

When he sees it, his face lights up. I pick it up and hand it to him. It’s kinda heavy, and has a bulky shape to it.

He takes it out of my hand and holds it up to his eye line. “I wonder what little surprise she left me.” He’s smiling, but I can see his eyes getting watery.

“Open it!” I squeal, giggling.

He puts a finger under the flap and rips along the adhesive. A few coins fall out. Confusion flashes across my face, but I quickly replace it with a smile again. Grandpa looks inside the envelope. Then he kind of digs around with a finger. “Quarters. It’s all quarters.”

“What?”

“Your grandmother hid a few dollars in quarters for me to find and remember her by.” He’s silent for a second, then he starts laughing hysterically. “Amazing!”

I start laughing with him.

“I think at least one of these is old enough to be worth a dollar!”

We’re still laughing when we hear the doorbell ring.

“I’ll get it.” Grandpa says, handing me back the envelope. “Can you put my quarters away?”

“Sure thing grandpa!” When he leaves, I turn back to the drawer and drop the envelope back in. When it hits the bottom of the drawer, there’s a hollow echoing sound. I freeze in my tracks. That doesn’t sound right. I pick up the envelope again and tap my pointer finger on the wood. It’s supposed to be solid wood.

I close the drawer and open the one under it. I push the towels aside and tap on the bottom of this drawer. It sounds like thick wood. I close it and open the first drawer again. From my position, kneeling on the floor, I can see that the grain of the wood on the underside of the drawer is entirely different from the wood inside the drawer. I empty the top drawer entirely and tap along the baseboard. It definitely sounds hollow.

I look closer at the edges, and try to wedge a fingernail under the board. It pops up in my hand. I freeze, and quickly look behind me. I can hear the echoing sound of grandpa downstairs talking to someone in the foyer.

I lift up the board and find a second compartment in the base of the drawer. There are a lot of little knick knacks. I see a wallet size photo of mom and that same guy from the photo earlier. And I see a journal.

I flip it open without removing it from the drawer. There are little doodles everywhere in pink and purple ink.

                “Anna + Alan 4 EVER”

I wonder who Alan is. Probably mom’s high school boyfriend? I don’t know anything about her romantic relationships before dad, and I don’t want to know anything about the ones after.

I flip through doodles of little hearts and a whole page with grandpa’s name and dozens of little knives drawn stabbing into it.

A few pages later, I see another entry.

“I can’t believe dad is being like this. I know he knows I can’t control who I mate with. Not everyone gets this perfectly convenient little romance like mom and dad did! And Alan really...he gets me, he’s so amazing! Why can’t dad just accept it?!?”

I look behind me again to make sure grandpa isn’t coming upstairs. I can’t believe their big fall out was about some jerk she dated in high school after all!

I flip to the back of the book and see several blank pages at the end. The last entry is dated right before Gracie’s birthday. But I thought we were living in San Francisco then? What is this doing here at grandpa’s house?

I hear steps on the staircase, and I slam the book shut. I wedge the board back in place, throw the blankets in over it, and slam the drawer shut.

“Layla,” grandpa says, walking into the room. “Someone came here looking for you!”

I tense, thinking it’ll be mom, but Taylor dances into the room behind grandpa, singing “Lay-la-la!”

“Taylor!” I exclaim, trying to hide my distraction.

“I’m so glad I found you here. I didn’t know where you were staying, but I knew Mr. Alfred could pass along a message for me, and then you were just here!” She runs over and gives me a brief hug. “Okay, so school starts next week, and I want to go shopping, please say you’ll come with me!”

“Absolutely, I’d love to!” I exclaim. “I mean, assuming grandpa doesn’t need my help around the house?” I look at him for confirmation.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We can pick this back up another time. Bring Gracie. I bet she has some ideas of where your grandmother hid notes for us too!”

I thank grandpa, and he gives me an old pair of grandma’s sneakers to wear. The entire way out to Taylor’s car, I’m talking to her and conversing like normal, but I’m entirely focused on mom’s old journal. Does grandpa even know it’s there?

I have got to get back there and steal that journal!