Tyranny of Coins (The Judas Chronicles) (Volume 5) Paperback (23 page)

David glanced around the ravine. A yellow poplar caught his attention.
Harold Potts + Samantha Pope, September 14, 1932.

“I’ll bet we can find some older names back in there,” he said, pointing past the former streambed to a heavily wooded area. 

“Maybe later,” she replied. “My stomach’s growling, and I’m starting to feel a little weak.”

“I guess it can wait,” he said. He noticed her smile had faded. It continued to die, morphing into a worried frown. It was like the place suddenly creeped her out. He gently grasped her hand to lead her back across the ravine. “In the meantime, I’ve got something special planned for lunch.”

Determined to see his amorous plans through to completion, David offered an assuring smile once they reached the shade of the large oak. So far, Ned had been right about this place, thank God. The secluded ravine from years past seemed like the perfect spot to rekindle their passion. Their marriage of fifteen years stood on solid ground, but over the past few years, intimacy had waned. For him, the shortage of steady sex finally opened his eyes to what she truly needed. She needed sincere affection, where their daily emotional and physical contact didn’t always mean intercourse lingered on the horizon.

He removed the contents of his backpack, laying out a large picnic blanket next to the oak tree’s base. He was pleased by her surprise, when he produced two elegant place settings. Cold, fried chicken from a local deli was the main entrée, easiest for him to pack and serve. But, to ensure she appreciated the romantic intent, he brought a bowled candle to light along with two crystal wineglasses and a bottle of expensive chardonnay, her preference for special occasions. With everything arranged to his pleasure, he asked her to join him on the blanket.

“Well, this is
really
nice!” she enthused, smiling as she sat down.

“To our fifteenth
fantastic
year together, my love!” he said, pouring the wine and handing her one of the glasses. They tapped the glasses together, and the pitch resounded throughout the ravine. A gentle breeze moved among the trees.

“Well, how about that?” Her smile widened as she watched the wind’s spreading caress enfold the ravine. “Maybe it’s a good sign, like the next fifteen years will be even better.”

“Maybe so. I’d love that,” he agreed, liking her mood. He lifted his glass towards hers again, and they clinked softer this time.

Afterward, they snuggled close, lying on the blanket. As they discussed how to spend the rest of their afternoon, David noticed something faint carved upon the oak’s trunk and got up to investigate. Unlike the other carved names they had seen, this solitary inscription was cruder—like whoever made it did so in haste.

“What does it say?” She came up next to him for a closer look.

The bark had curled around the edges of the wound inflicted long ago, forming an imperfect heart shape. Carved inside was the name ‘Allie’, and below it was either a ‘+’ or a ‘T’—difficult to say which. They mouthed the name together, glancing at each other before looking at it again.

“It looks like someone got stood up,” he dryly observed.

“Or, maybe she changed her mind before it was too late… and, she didn’t let the boy carve his name inside the heart,” said Miriam, her tone sad.

David snickered.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s just wishful thinking she wasn’t spurned by whoever her beau was,” she added, chuckling for a moment.

As David looked past the oak to the ravine’s streambed, an idea occurred to him, and he moved to his backpack.

“What are you looking for, hon?”

“This is such a great spot… the perfect location for my new zoom lens,” he said. He pulled the Nikon camera from its case. “I need you to move back to where we were earlier, so I can take your picture.”

At first she protested, but she agreed to pose where the wildflowers grew most abundantly. He stepped under the ledge at the mouth of the ravine and kneeled, positioning the camera to also catch the treetops. He prepared to snap the picture, and then hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Miriam frowned.

“It’s not the right angle—hang on a moment.” He climbed onto the ledge and aimed the camera, but wavered again. He frowned.

“I guess I’m too ugly, huh?” she deadpanned. “I’d hate to break your precious lens.”

“Very funny.”

He scanned the area, and his gaze was drawn to the oak again. It seemed bigger as it loomed above the picnic blanket. Nonetheless, he grinned and ran to the tree, nearly sliding back down the embankment when he reached it.

“Now where are you going?”

“Up here.” He started climbing the tree. “I’ve found what I’m looking for, but you’ll need to back up just a bit.”

“David, don’t do it.” Her faint smile disappeared as she stepped toward him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this!”

“It’ll be all right.”

He stopped climbing fifteen feet above the embankment, and he straddled two large branches. He started to bring up the camera, but still wasn’t satisfied. Tentatively, he ventured onto a smaller branch above the ravine’s basin.

“David, you’re really scaring me! Just leave it
alone!
I’m scared to death you’re going to fall and break your neck!” Her voice cracked.

“I’ll be okay—just relax!” The branch creaked beneath his weight. “I’ve got to get this shot, and I’m almost there.”

He leaned toward her and positioned the camera to his eye. A perfect shot. If only she didn’t look so damned worried.

“Smile, baby!”

A sudden, strong gust distracted him, and he placed more weight on the branch. It cracked loudly and splintered.

“David!”

The branch gave way, taking him with it. Desperate to avoid a free fall to the ground, he threw his arms around the tree’s trunk, surprised when something unseen shoved him against it. Sliding to the ground, his sweatshirt ripped, and the oak’s sharp bark scraped his arms and hands.

“Oh, baby, are you all right?”
Miriam scrambled up the embankment and gently helped him to his feet. His initial grimace turned to a sheepish look as he brushed himself off. “You’re hurt!”

“Well, at least I got the picture, huh?”

He retrieved his ball cap and camera. Surprised the camera wasn’t broken, his prized lens received a mere scratch on its black casing. Curious to find what had pushed him against the tree, he gazed up at the spot he’d vacated. The broken branch was next to the thickest one on the tree, and no evidence anyone else had been there. He squinted, wishing he had brought his prescription-tinted eyeglasses, instead of the cheap sunglasses he purchased that morning in Gatlinburg. He didn’t see anything, but sensed unseen eyes glaring back at him. He shivered.

Get a grip, man. It’s just an empty old tree.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she scolded, briefly following his gaze before attending to his injuries.

The scrapes on his arms bled, and his hands ached. Miriam guided him to the blanket and opened her backpack, pulling out a small first-aid kit. A dozen years as a successful pediatrician came in handy. She helped him remove the sweatshirt, and dressed his wounds. The injuries were largely superficial, although their painful sting said otherwise.

“You stubborn, stupid man,” she said, kissing his hands. “You could’ve been killed just now, do you realize that?”

She looked into his face. Her eyes were soft and misty.

Another breeze blew through the trees, much cooler, and it raised gooseflesh on his bare back and chest. Meanwhile, his wife’s kisses moved up his arms. She kissed his neck, and then his mouth with fervor. Powerfully aroused, he saw urgent longing in her eyes. He pulled her down onto the blanket, where they made passionate love.

* * * *

Miriam woke in a panic, and looked at her wristwatch.

“Oh shit!”

“Huh?” Roused from a dark and fragmented dream, David looked around him, disoriented. “What in the hell happened?”

Long shadows crept into the ravine. The sun had almost finished its journey across the autumn sky, and a cool crispness filled the air.

“It’s almost five o’clock.
That’s
what happened!” she announced, sharply. She grabbed her clothes to dress. “We must’ve fallen asleep.”

He stood and moved to his pile of clothes at the end of the blanket, where chilled air embraced his naked body. He turned to face his wife, who scrambled to fix her bra and pull on her panties. The sight of her vulnerability aroused him, and he thought about taking her in his arms once more. But, the waning sunlight told him that it wouldn’t be prudent, not to mention she looked distressed. His well-toned body and powerful erection would have little influence. It didn’t help matters the opportunity to do anything else in the park was now lost, on account of their scheduled flight back to Denver from Knoxville the following morning.

“Are you going to just stand there and admire yourself, or do you think you can be dressed by the time I’m finished here?”

She smiled, but he knew better than to test her current mood. He dressed, wincing from his wounds as he pulled on his sweatshirt. He finished before she had packed the remaining wine and glasses.

Miriam motioned for him to step off the blanket, so she could fold it. Something metallic jingled… an object fell onto the ground where his clothes had been. A golden glint caught David’s eye, and he reached to pick it up. It was his wristwatch.

“This is really strange.” He shrugged and pulled the watch over his wrist, snapping the band shut. “You know I almost never take this off, and only in the shower. I don’t recall removing it from my wrist.”

Still puzzled, he looked at the spot where it had fallen.

“What in the hell’s this?”

A small cloth bag with a leather drawstring lay nestled in the grass. He picked it up. Near the top, “Allie Mae’s Treasures” was cross-stitched on one side in light blue thread.

“Let me see that,” said Miriam. Setting the blanket down, she walked to him.

David frowned and looked at the tree, and at the bag again. He shook his head.

“It’s got to be some sort of prank.” He handed the bag to her. “The name stitched on it is almost identical to the one on the tree.”

“That’s pretty weird,” she agreed, peering at the bag. David watched her warily look around. She examined the bag more closely, holding it by the knot at the end of its leather drawstring. Another metallic jingle resounded from within the bag. “I wonder what’s inside?”

She loosened the drawstring and opened the bag. A musty, earthen scent rose from it. Gingerly, she poured the contents into one hand and sifted through them with the other. Four items rested in her palm: a steel sleigh bell, a broken, solid gold locket attached to a chain made from a lesser grade of plated gold, a blue, silk hair ribbon, and a folded letter.

The bell and hair ribbon looked ordinary, although the ribbon’s quality was very fine. The locket appeared torn at the hinges, and may have contained a picture, or some other keepsake at one time.

“I wonder what this is about.” Miriam opened the letter. She ran her fingers over the paper, admiring its texture.

“Do you think it’s such a good idea to be prying into someone’s personal business like this?” It made him uncomfortable, watching her casually skim over the letter’s contents.

“It can’t be too private, since it was left on the blanket while you and I were sleeping—in the nude, no less.” Her eyes flashed with annoyance, enough to make him drop the issue. She spent the next few minutes silently reading the letter while he looked on. When finished, she refolded it and stood silently.

“What does it say?” he finally asked.

“Well, it’s definitely a love letter,” she confirmed, after another moment’s hesitation. “The penmanship is so graceful, as if from another era altogether, which sort of contradicts the occasional misspellings. And, the ink has definite stops and starts, as though an old-fashioned fountain pen was used. Part of the letter is unclear, as if this girl named Allie must’ve read it over and over, until some of the writing faded over time.”

She opened the bag and placed the items inside, the letter being the last thing in before she closed the drawstring.

“It’s from a boy or man named Seth,” she continued, handing the bag back to him. She finished folding the blanket and placed it inside her backpack. “It seems he was on his way to some war. The words are too dim for me to make out which one it was. It doesn’t seem possible that the bag could belong to the same girl whose name is on the tree, since the carving was obviously made a long time ago….”

“The chances for that are probably less than winning the lottery,” he said, when she didn’t go on. This crazy scene made no sense whatsoever. As much as he prided himself on being straight minded and very practical, as he was a CPA by trade, Miriam was even more so. Meanwhile, she busily searched the immediate area.

“You’re not thinking it’s the same person, are you?” he asked, after she took the bag and moved to the tree. “You do realize how crazy that sounds—especially if the carving on the tree is as old as it looks.”