Satisfied that there was no fire hazard, Joe had turned away from the tree to go back to the house when the toe of his boot hit something. He swung the light beam and landed on a section of the tree trunk with a hollow in its center. Nestled in the hollow was something rectangular. He leaned over to get a closer look and discovered a container the size of a small shoebox. He bent over and picked it up, jogging to the porch to get a closer look out of the rain.
Once he was under the overhang, he noticed that although the exterior of the box was rimmed with rust along the edges, it was intact. He put the flashlight under his arm and tried to open it but found it locked tight. Aiming the light at the latch, he spotted an opening designed for a key. So it was locked, but it wasn’t Fort Knox. Nothing that a crowbar couldn’t pop open.
Then he remembered the dream he’d named the Owl Dream. In the dream, he was the one who’d put the metal box in the hollow of the tree. It was both a dream and a memory. He’d put the box in that spot decades ago, before he, Joe, was even born, and there it had sat until just now. The idea boggled his mind.
He was halfway to the house when he remembered the key Kathleen had found in the hope chest.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
1983
Kathleen had just shut off her alarm clock and gotten out of bed when the phone rang. She ran down the stairs two at a time and plucked the phone out of its receiver. “Hello?” She clutched it to her ear and tried to catch her breath.
“Kathleen, it’s Joe. It’s not too early to call, is it?”
“No, it’s fine. I was awake.”
“Good.”
“Is something wrong?” She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stifled a yawn. She was usually staggering into the kitchen to make coffee at this hour. The store didn’t open until later on Saturdays, but she liked to get an early start at home.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I just wondered if you still have the key you found in Alice’s hope chest. I found a locked metal box that I’m thinking might be a fit.”
Kathleen perked up at hearing this. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” The grin in Joe’s voice came over the telephone line. “If I’m wrong, I can always pry it open, but I wanted to try the key first.”
She leaned against the wall. “Where did you find this box?”
“That’s the really interesting part. It was inside the hollow of a tree that got struck by lightning last night. I went out to check on the damage, and it was right there, waiting for me.”
“Inside the hollow of the tree? Like in your dream?”
“Yeah. This is all pretty weird, right?”
“Incredible.”
“It was just there. If it wasn’t for the storm, it would still be there.”
“I can’t wait to see what’s in it.”
“Should I meet you at the store, or come to your house?”
“I’ll come to you,” she said.
When Kathleen pulled into the driveway, she was relieved to see Joe sitting in one of a pair of rocking chairs on the covered porch, waiting for her, the box in his lap. Walking up to join him, she held the key aloft. “Brought it.”
“Knew you would.” He put the box on the table between the chairs, stood, and extended a hand. “Be careful of the steps. They’re slippery from the rain.”
Somehow, Kathleen knew it wasn’t that slippery. He was using it as an excuse to take her hand, which was fine with her. She took a seat in the other rocking chair and set the key down on the table. “Let me look at this box for a minute.” She held it and examined it closely from every angle. “I don’t think the box itself is anything out of the ordinary. Just a standard metal lockbox.” She turned the key in the lock. “It’s definitely a fit.” Twisting, she heard a slight click and then pried open the lid. She pulled out a piece of wrapped leather, held together with a cord. She removed the cord and opened it up to see what was inside.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A lot of different things.” One by one, she pulled out the items and placed them on the table. Two brooches, a wedding band, an engagement ring, a book, a seashell, a ceramic frog, and a bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with a ribbon. “Someone’s treasures.” She examined the rings with interest. They needed a good cleaning, but otherwise, they were in perfect shape. Not that she’d advise Joe to sell them. Obviously, they’d belonged to someone in the family and as such were heirlooms.
She removed the ribbon and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a stack of yellowed paper. Setting the ribbon and fabric aside, she unfolded it. Her brow furrowed as she studied the pages.