Buried Treasure. Jack B. Downs

solemn job.” She winked at Sam.

      “As I recall, you did a fair amount of spoiling on your own,” he said.

      “Not after mommy left,” James said, without malice. “You got a lot stricter with us when we came to live here.”

      “So what do you boys remember?” Sam asked. Dylan knew he was referring to Maureen.

      James looked at Sam, shrugging. “I remember when it was just me and David, how she loved to play with us. It was almost like having a big sister sometimes.” He looked at Dylan. “She used to take us on walks around the block, with other ladies from the neighborhood, and their kids. She never yelled and hollered like the other moms would.”

      “I remember her smoking, us sitting in the kitchen mornings,” said Dylan.

      “Yeah, I remember that, now that you say it. She smoked a lot.” James shrugged. “I remember she didn’t talk very much. Not like Nana.” He glanced over at Nana. ‘I don’t mean you talk too much. I mean the way you talk to me. Mom didn’t seem to…care.” He had a feeling like he was rolling in a drum. The floor didn’t seem as solid as it had earlier.

      Nana looked uncomfortable. “Losing David seemed to just drain the heart of your mother. I don’t know how else to say it. She went into a kind of shock that she never came out of.”

      Sam laid his hands on the table. “And I was no help. None at all. When David first disappeared, things went crazy. Not just with us. With the whole town of Berlin. There was this…panic. Understandable. Nothing like that had ever happened in these parts.”

      Sam’s face clouded at the memory. “Every moment that went by cut our chances of finding him. Maureen needed to care for you,” Sam raised his eyes to James, “and so she was alone. All alone, while the rest of us were out looking. I had the search to distract me.”

      “Distract you from what?” James asked.

      “The pain. It was unimaginable, worse than I would ever have guessed. Wanting like Jesus—sorry, mother—wanting ‘til you almost bled, to turn back the clock. To choose over again.”

      His father rubbed at the slight stubble on his chin. He seemed to be recounting the sad story of a stranger, pitiful and mystifying.

      “But I was going through the motions. From the beginning, I knew he’d been taken, and whoever ran with him was not going to stop running for a long time. Berlin was too small a town for it to be anyone who lived there.”

      He sighed. “The town was just so…enraged. And scared. Everyone felt so violated. They needed for it to be…fixed, and there was just no fixing it.”

      Sam looked out the window, recalling a time seared in his memory. “By the time I came back home to pick up the pieces, your mother and I were complete strangers. No arguments, no tears. She just walked out and headed west. I can’t blame her. I hope you don’t either, though it must be hard to understand.”

      James snorted, but didn’t speak. In the gathering dusk outside the window, an owl hooted a mournful question, over and over.

      ***

      A week or so after Mr. Thompson’s funeral, Dylan and James walked up the sidewalk from a baseball game in the waning evening. Their father was sitting with Nana on the porch.

      “Boys, supper’s in just a few minutes,” Nana said. Then she glanced at Sam.

      “I was hoping I could hold you up a second to tell you some news.” Sam spoke to James, his tone a question. He seemed to be steeling himself for James to march inside. But his oldest son rested his hands on his hips.

      “Sure. Let’s hear it. What’s up?”

      “I have some things to tell you. It may come as a surprise, some of it. It sure did to me, anyway.”

      “Is this gonna be bad?” James sighed, slumping in his chair.

      “Well, I don’t think so,” Sam replied, “But it is a little sudden. I went down to see a lawyer today. The one Mr. Thompson mentioned in his note. Seems that Mr. Thompson wanted us to have some things.”

      Nana gasped, covered her mouth, and glanced across the street. She dropped her hand and shook her head as if she’d spoken out of turn. Sam paused, bemused. She bit her lip and waved a hand in front of her face.

      “What kind of things?” James asked.

      Sam scratched his chin. “Well, his car for one. He wanted us to have his car.”

      “My goodness,” Nana said in a hushed tone. “What a generous thing.”

      “There’s more. He left us his house.”

      James whistled. “Say, what do you mean he left it to us?”

      Sam spoke as he studied the dark house across the street. “Mr. Thompson left a will, and in it, he left the car and the house to me. But he was pretty clear that it was for the use of us all.”

      “The car’s cool, but we already have a house.” James said. He sighed impatiently. “Are we moving across the street? What do we need a house for?”

      “He intended for me to sell it, I guess.” Sam shook his head slightly. “Shouldn’t say I’m guessing. Elmore—that’s Mr. Thompson—was quite plain on that point.”

      James listened in amazement. Mr. Thompson was just the friendly old man who lived across the street, until a month ago. Then he had become somebody they’d never really known. And now, he was back in their lives.

      His father looked again at James. “Well, there you have it. You don’t have to decide anything now. But I know you’re graduating this year. If you want to try college, we can help with at least some of it. If we can sell the house, of course. But I’m sure somebody will want to buy it.”

      James looked down, his forehead creased. “Um, that’s something, alright. I’ll have to think it over. College wasn’t part of my plan. Do I have to use the money for that?”

      Sam looked at James. “What were you thinking you might want to do with it?”

      “Well, lots of the guys have cars. I don’t need something new. But I could work at the Dash-n-Go for a hundred years and still not be able to afford much. Some money for a car would help.”

      “So you’re going to sell his house?” Dylan asked.

      “I am,” said his father. “I have an appointment with a realtor fella this week. While you boys were in school the other day, I met with Mr. Latham over at the house. It seems to need very little. Mr. Thompson kept it pretty much up to snuff.” Sam looked out the window as he talked, gazing across at the house. “Mr. Latham did suggest I have some painting done, and take the old wallpaper down. He said the realtor would know best in that regard. I’ll probably do it myself, if it comes to that kind of thing. I used to be fairly handy with a paint brush.”

      James saw a look pass between his father and grandmother. Did adults really think they were so clever that no one noticed them?

      “Well, boys,” his father started. “I have one other bit of news. I’ve been doing some talking with folks around here about what I might do with myself. Fact is, I talked to Elmore—Mr. Thompson—about it a few times.”

      James and Dylan glanced at each other, and Sam continued. “I’m pretty good with cars, I guess. It’s what I did when I was in California, and I kinda got used to it.” Sam hesitated and then plunged on. “With some of the money from the sale of the house, I could start my own garage. Thing is, we’re a little off the beaten path here to take advantage of traffic to the beach.” He looked up at Nana as he chewed his lower lip, but she was bustling around the table, wiping it clean. “Somebody suggested I consider Virginia. There’s a new bypass opening up soon near Richmond, to skirt people around the downtown area.”

      James nodded slowly, trying to follow.