SADDLEBAGS, Trunks, and Tombs

Chapter 13: Hole in One

The Watcher:

     The talk with my parents was nice.  It had been too long.  My mother filled me in on all the dealings of my brothers and their families, not once mentioning my lack of either.  I told her about the articles and about the antique box I had purchased.  We were on the phone for a good hour or so with me promising, at the end, that I would come home to visit, soon.  

     My mother also told me that she and my father were enjoying the articles that I was putting out.  Turns out that the old man Googles my name from time to time to keep up with my writing.  I had no idea!!  I promised to save them the trouble and make sure that they were sent copies of whatever venue my articles would turn up in so that they could have them in print.  She was delighted.

     When we hung up, my spirit was lifted.  I looked out the window, the river flowing lazily, deciding to get out of the house for a while.  I rarely went into the city, but this seemed like a nice day to just be out in it all.  Just as I was planning my day, the phone began to ring.  “Hello?  Hey Ken, what’s up?”  “Yeah, it is a nice day.  I was just planning on driving into the city, maybe hit the waterfront.”  “Well, you know that’s not my norm, but hey, why not?  I’ll meet you there in a few hours.”

The Walker:

     From the day I followed Martha to the tree, the day she saw my heart and allowed me to claim her for my own, I floated on clouds.  For the first time in my life I had no desire to “see” anything else.  Everything to entice my eyes was in front of me.

     Unfortunately, even though my family had known Marty since she was a child, she was still a servant and a servant would never be good enough to be a Winchester.  I courted her, strongly, but in secret.  Fortunately for us, my father did not see it as odd that we would spend time together, talking, laughing or spending time in the stable with the horses that she so dearly loved.

     One day, while I was in town, I passed by a shop that sold trinkets and such from around the world.  With Marty on my mind, I stepped into the shop and began to look around.  In the far corner of the shop were trinket boxes.  As I glanced through them, I noticed one in particular, that was of the deepest mahogany with horses etched into the top.  This I would give her with the promise of my heart and my name.

     As I situated the saddlebags on my shoulder, a new tube of silver light began to shine in the distance.  I guess there was something to being not totally alive, the walking never really made me weary.  And the memories were so vivid, it was as if I were wherever I was remembering at the moment.  

     As much as I wanted to slip back into my memories, it was time to continue on the journey that I hoped would not be endless journey.  I know I had done wrong, but to spend an eternity picking trash off the ground, what a horrid thought.  I admit, this is mostly bitterness speaking, even I am not so dense as to believe that I am a walking street cleaner.  

     I just want to know why.  What has happened to me?  What have I become that is so different from what I was?

     The next thing I know, I am on the edge of a park, maybe a manor?  It is hard to say, but one thing is for certain, the light from the sky is here and there is a white ball on the ground, the reason why I am here, I’m sure.

The Watcher:

Before I could get out the door, it seemed as if I had some writing to do.  Fortunately for me the stories aren’t taking as long to write.  Maybe it’s because I have accepted this fiasco as part of my life.  It seemed as if the story and I had come to an understanding, but of what I did not know.

     This is the third place our journey has taken us.  A third life we are intruding upon.  As I watch him, it doesn’t seem as if he is aware of the stories attached to the items he picks up, seems led to.  And yet every time he touches an item, its story flashes before me.  

     Maybe I am the only intruder.  Not only on the people attached to the things that he is led to, but also to him.  As he places the golf ball in his bag and begins to move away from the course, I almost don’t want to see what happened this time.  I don’t want to know about the lights, or do I?

Hole in One 

     The aged hand picked up the smooth, white ‘Ultra ll’ golf ball lying on the edge of the golf course.  The flashing red and blue lights reflected off of the ball as he dropped it into the ancient saddlebag.

      All week she had gotten numerous dinner invitations for Thanksgiving.  People were not only offering dinner, but rides to their homes and then to work afterwards.  Marceline had accepted an invitation to her boss’ home knowing good and well she would not be going.  The group at the doctor’s office, her day job, spent a lot of time and energy “helping” her and trying to give her things they felt she needed.  She knew it would drive them half out of their minds if they knew she was spending the day alone without a turkey dinner.  They didn’t, couldn’t understand her need to be alone right now. 

     Marceline had lived in Half Moon Bay for just under a year.  The night job at the hospital ended up being very lucrative for her.  Lucrative was what she and her husband needed to get their fledgling business up and running.  Unfortunately, her husband and the business were seventy miles away. There had been many sacrifices on both their parts to get this going.  Many times, they had both wanted to throw in the towel and live a regular life.  She would not be the only one spending the holiday alone.  They vowed to each other that this would be the last.

     On Thanksgiving morning, Marceline prayed for her husband.  She knew that being apart would be harder on him, today, then if would be on her.  That afternoon, around two o’ clock, the call came asking if she was ready to be picked up for dinner.  The previously prepared lie fell from her lips quicker than she had thought it would.  “I just got off the phone with my husband.  He is on his way, right now, to pick me up for dinner.  Thank you very much for the invitation, though.”  “Well, we just wanted to make sure you didn’t have to spend the holiday alone.  See you on Monday and have a good weekend at the hospital.”  

     What the people around her, here in the bay, failed to realize was that even if she were in a room full of people, her heart was with her husband and without him she would continue to be the one thing they were trying to prevent her from being, alone.

     As it neared time for Marceline to find a ride or prepare to walk the three and a half miles to work, something in her had already prepared to make the walk.  She was blessed to have so many people willing to help her.  Today she would give them the only gift she could afford, the gift of time.  A little more time with their families.  Families and time, two things most people took for granted, of course until both were gone.  She would be going to work with God today and spending an hour in true Thanksgiving.

     Five minutes or so into her walk, Marceline spotted a golf ball lying on the ground.  “You sure are far from the course, it must have been a heck of a hit that got you here.”  Smiling, she picked the smooth, white ball up and held it in her hand as she continued toward the hospital.  

     She was walking and smiling to herself thinking about all of the blessings and trials that she and her husband had endured over the past year.  Soon they would have the coffee house up and running and they would be back under the same roof.  Soon she would be the housewife she had always wanted to be.

     Justin was itching.  It had been a long while and he was starting to get irritable.  If he didn’t get what he needed soon, he was going to blow!  He was gunning his large, white truck up the street when he spotted the woman, in hospital scrubs, walking alone down the road.  Her hair was tied back, covered by a light blue bandana and she had a black and gray backpack on her back.  

     He continued to rev and brake, rev and brake, as he got closer to her.  It looked like his itch might finally get scratched after all.  Slowly he rolled past her, going the opposite direction than she was walking.  She had a very thoughtful, content look on her face and a more powerful stride.  

     Just across the street from where she was walking were two Hispanic men, one older than the other, probably relaxing after a big dinner.  Just as he passed her, he gunned his engine once more and flew up the quiet residential street. 

     “i***t”, she thought out loud.  Men and their toys.  Did he even care that he was playing around on a residential street?  A street where at any time children might have been playing outside?  Probably not.  Men like that were rarely careful, until it was too late.  Then they were standing there, with tears in their eyes, telling the police that they hadn’t seen the child run into the street after the ball.  

     How many times had she heard that line as she covered up a tiny victim in the ER and prepared to tell his or her parents that he was gone?  How many more times would she have to give that speech?  Being a housewife again would be a saving grace.

     “NO EXIT”, the sign blared out.  She had taken this unknown street as a detour off of the main road so her friends wouldn’t have the chance of spotting her when they finally headed off to work.  Now she was stuck.  

     “Which way now?” she thought as she spun around looking at her options.  Going back to the main road would definitely take too long.  Marceline decided to make a left on Ponderosa and then a right, a block later, on Mt. Charleston.  Hopefully this would get her to Red Butte, the one street she knew would take her to the main highway and then to work.

     Justin watched her make the turn onto the far side of the golf course.  It would only be a matter of time, with even a small amount of luck.  When would they ever learn to stay on the beaten path?  Hopefully for him, never.  Women.

     “Okay, I’ve done it again,” Marceline spoke aloud.  She seemed to be the queen of short cuts that turned into scenic routes.  She had made numerous turns and had even ended up crossing a few man made dirt roads.  Finally she could see a street in the distance that looked like it might be Red Butte.  

     She heard the engine revving.  A truck or maybe a motorbike, hard to tell from the distance.  This place was the perfect spot for dirt bike riding, as anyone would be able to tell by looking at her shoes, there was definitely a lot of dirt!  She would just step to the side of the road as whatever it was got near enough to pass.  This was the norm, whether she was walking or riding her mountain bike.  Drivers, especially now a days, didn’t pay enough attention to bikers and/or pedestrians.  She had learned to be cautious.

     She was in his sights now, nearing the far end of the golf course.  There were a few houses back here, but it was a holiday, no one was out.  Soon, he too would be giving thanks.

     The roar of the engine was getting closer.  Marceline instinctively moved to the side of the road and continued walking forward.  She wasn’t worried, as she was used to the drivers by now and was maybe ten yards away from the paved walkway, on the back of the course that would take her where she needed to be.  

     The engine was closer now and soon it would pass.  She turned, more out of curiosity, and stared into a black abyss which were the eyes of the driver, protected by the windshield.  God would again bless her and later, thanks would be given that she was already dead before her crumpled body landed in a sand trap, twenty yards away.

The Watcher:

     I watched the white ball roll from the woman’s lifeless hand.  I watched it come to rest near a stretch of reeds where the blackbirds were screeching.  

     As the flashing lights from the police cars followed behind the silent ambulance, moving slowly away from the golf course, the walker stepped from the shadows, looked down and reached for the ball.  I really hope these stories are just that, stories. This was impossible.  For the sake of my mind I have decided that they are just stories.  There is no way this could be real!  So it looks like I have lucked up on some serious sci-fi!  And now for my day away from the pen!