Lost and Found

On Labor Day our village of Cherry Creek hosts not only a parade, food vendors, and a fireworks display but also a village-wide garage sale.

So...ten o'clock Monday morning, after watching the parade, the day sunny and bright, I stood in front of the billboard in the village park checking out the garage sale posters.

A poster that caught my eye featured a close-up photo of a smiling little girl with curly blonde hair hugging a huge teddy bear.

My heart lurched. I thought for a second one of our school children was missing—I'm the secretary to the elementary school principal. But the text below explained that Deebo, the teddy, bear was missing. Last seen at the Machine Shed Restaurant, Highway 150, just outside of town, ladies restroom, three weeks ago. The poster also listed a cell phone number to call if Deebo were spotted in a garage sale and promised a reward.

"I know it's a long shot," a deep masculine voice said, startling me. I turned and looked up into the face of a perfectly handsome dark-haired man with sparkly blue eyes. "I don't believe we've met," I said.

"Ken Lawson," he said, smiling a warm smile I couldn’t resist. "I'm Jennifer's dad—the five-year-old girl in the picture. We're trying to find her teddy bear."

"I'm Laura White," I said. "Your daughter is such a beautiful girl. How did she lose the bear?"

He shrugged. "Long story."

"I've got time," I said. "I remember as a kid I had a beloved teddy bear. I would've died if I'd have lost it."

We wandered over to a picnic table under an oak tree and sat down. To my surprise, Ken explained that he was Linda Stewart's husband. She was a classmate of mine in high school. She left town after graduation to seek a Hollywood career. She didn't make it, but she married a lawyer—Ken Lawson—the man sitting in front of me—and they settled down in California.

"She died in an automobile accident a year ago," Ken said. "I moved here this summer because this is where Jennifer's grandparents live, her only relatives. Mine are deceased."

"What a wonderful thing you've done."

He went on to tell me about the teddy bear. Two weeks ago after arriving in town, he'd taken Jennifer to an amusement park. On the way back, she couldn't quite wait to get home to use the bathroom, so they stopped at the Machine Shed. She took Deebo into the restroom with her and forgot him. "It was late when we got to the restaurant that night," Ken said. "Both of us dead tired. I think someone working there found him and took him. I checked with the Shed the next day, but no one remembered seeing Deebo."

"And you think somehow Deebo might show up in a garage sale?"

"Crazy, huh? But I've got to do something. I've tacked posters to telephone poles, too. Jennifer's lost a lot lately."

My heart ached for this man who was willing to move across the country for his daughter, and I felt fired up. "You take the south side of Main Street," I said. "I'll take the north. We'll stop at every sale. Meet back here at five."

"It's a deal!" We shook, his hand warm and firm in mine.

Would you believe it! I found Deebo. I actually found him!  I nearly dropped dead.

Five o'clock in the afternoon, Ken, Jennifer, and I sat at the picnic table under the oak tree. Jennifer smiled, giggled, and hugged Deebo. Ken smiled and hugged Jennifer. I sat across from them, smiling. I explained that the lady who sold Deebo to me for three dollars, said her daughter collected stuffed animals, but since the girl went off to college recently, the lady was selling them—with her daughter's permission, of course. Yes, the girl had worked at the Machine Shed for a time. She quit because of school.

Still smiling, still clutching Deebo in a fierce hug, Jennifer said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ms. White."

"You're very welcome."

Ken looked hesitant. His lovely blue eyes landed on mine; my blood rushed.

"It is Ms. White?" he asked.

I nodded. "Divorced long ago."

"Jennifer and I would be honored if you'd, like, hang out with us, eat, and attend the fireworks later."

"Oh, please, Ms. White!" Jennifer said.

"And you have a reward coming," Ken said. "Plus three dollars."

With Ken's eyes still locked on mine, I couldn't ignore the fireworks in my own heart.

"No reward," I said. "And forget the three dollars. But I'd love to hang out with both of you," I added, and wondered I'd found more than a lost teddy bear.

                                                  The End

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Lunchtime

"Someone's stolen my lunch!" I blurted.

Peering into the break-room fridge, I shoved several lunch bags aside. Still, the brown-paper sack with my name ERIN printed in big black letters remained AWOL.

Lunchroom pranks weren't unusual at McLeod Wholesalers, so I closed the fridge door, planted my hands on my hips, and mustered a smile.

"All right, guys, who's got my lunch? It's not much—tuna salad sandwich, carrot sticks, and low-fat chips."

Six co-workers sat in the tiny break room at round, cafeteria-style tables, while three more employees filed into the room. Two people, while eating and studying their crossword puzzles, didn't look up. Three others looked at me and shrugged. It was handsome Alex Martin, the single guy from accounting with the honey-brown eyes, who smiled and said, "Forgot your lunch? Sit down. I'll share. I've got plenty."

The word "forgot" rang in my ears like a gong. Darn! This morning I was running late, and in my haste I had forgotten my lunch. I clearly pictured it still sitting on the kitchen table.

"Be my guest," Alex said, pointing at a chair across from himself, his smile devastating.

I didn't eat lunch in the break room. I always grabbed my bag from the fridge, hurried back to my cubicle desk, ate quickly, then donned my headset and began working again. Staying busy, working hard, studying, and avoiding people—especially handsome men—I'd found, was the easiest way to mend a broken heart.

With his foot, Alex pushed out the chair. "Have a seat," he said, still smiling. Don't be bashful."

I'm not a bashful person, and I would've refused Alex's offer regardless of how gorgeous he looked—I loved his curly, rusty-brown hair. But I was hungry. I'd had time this morning for only a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter and jelly and a glass of orange juice. I couldn't face the thought of working in my cubicle this afternoon—starving.

"You're very kind, Mr. Martin," I said, sitting across from him. "You're right. I forgot my lunch. No one has stolen it."

"Happens," he said. "You get up late, rush around and bang, you forget your lunch." Then, "Call me Alex. I know you're Erin Mackenzie—I asked about you. And I'm glad to meet you."

With that, smiling again,

Alex unwrapped a huge ham sandwich with Swiss cheese, then set out celery sticks, and a big red apple, which he cut in two with a jackknife.

My intention was to eat quickly, leave abruptly, and avoid a long, soul-revealing conversation with Alex, but I realized since he was sharing his lunch with me, leaving would be rude, so I listened as he told me about himself. He'd earned a degree in accounting from State University four years ago, had worked elsewhere for a couple of years, and had been with McLeod only six months. I gathered he wasn't dating and wasn't married.

His charm curled its way into my heart. His brown eyes seemed to flash, and his voice held a deep, friendly timber. I told him I'd been with the firm three years and, going to school part time, I would complete my degree in retail management shortly. I wasn't dating, either. And then I said, "You asked about me?"

"Beautiful woman grabs her lunch from the fridge everyday, talks to no one, then hurries off to her cubicle—I was curious."

A lot of gossip goes on around here, so I was sure Alex already knew about my wedding fiasco. I didn't mention it, and by the time we finished sharing his lunch—which I thoroughly enjoyed—we were talking and laughing as if we'd know each other for years.

Alex glanced at his watch, and then his gaze swept over me. "Five minutes left. Listen, Erin, I know we've only just met—"

Oh my! Was he going to ask me for a date? I wasn't ready for that. But he seemed to be such an outgoing guy, charisma written all over him, that I might be tempted. Still, what was I to do with the vivid picture of Rick leaving me at the altar that flashed in my brain daily?

I shoved my chair back, ready to rise and escape.

"Erin, what I wanted to say is we should do this more often. You know, have lunch together."

The thought startled me. But made perfect sense. So simple. Lunch together. Get better acquainted. Maybe that picture of me alone on the altar would fade and eventually disappear.

My heart somersaulted. What I was about to do seemed totally unlike me. I took a deep breath. Smiling at Alex, I said, "I'll bring lunch for both of us tomorrow. You won't be disappointed."

The End
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A Rainy Day

The rap on the driver's side window of my Jeep Cherokee startled me. I push-buttoned the window down, and my heart jumped. Derrick Reid, the owner of Reid Electronics, the man who had interviewed me only hours ago, poked his head inside my vehicle.

The late afternoon rain had soaked him.

Me, too, before I'd dived into my Jeep. He blinked in the torrent.

"May I join you?" He jumped as thunder clapped overhead.

"Door's not locked."

He piled inside. Slammed the door. I push-buttoned his window up, then started the Cherokee and cranked on the heater/defroster.

"Sorry to pester you," he said, swabbing the rain off his face with the palm of his hand. "My car won't start. Won't turn over at all. Not a sound."

"I've got jumper cables."

"Good. I...can't find mine."     

"Could be a loose battery cable or a starter, though."

He blinked again, probably wondering how a woman could know such things. The résumé of mine that he'd reviewed before interviewing me today for a position as his executive secretary, didn't include the fact that I was born and raised on a farm where my family and I drove nothing but old vehicles constantly in need of repair.

But from my résumé he knew my marital status: Single. And my age: twenty-eight. And my work history in his company, starting as a receptionist and quickly working my way up to a junior secretary.

"When you got in the car," I said, "did your dome lights go on?"

He thought a moment. His curly, wet hair was walnut-brown, his eyes a shade darker. My heart started to leapfrog, just as it had when I first sat down in front of his desk for my interview—which didn't go very well. Again I pursed my lips and scolded myself: Get a grip, Judy. Maybe he's only thirty-something and single but he's the big boss.

"The dome lights came on," he said. "Radio, too. And the windshield wipers."

"It's not a dead battery. Or a loose cable. A jump won't do you any good. It's probably your starter."

He glanced at his watch.

"You in a hurry?" I asked.

A strong gust of wind blasted my Cherokee and rain swept across the windshield.

"Umm...not really," he said, but he looked sheepish.

"What are you driving?"

"Eighty-seven Cadillac."

I tried not to look surprised because I didn't want to embarrass him. I mean, the CEO driving an old car like that—I couldn't believe it. But he must have sensed my surprise because he said , "Look, when I was ten, I could build a computer component by component. At twelve, I could hack into my school district's computer system to change a friend's grade, but cars I know nothing about. They don't impress me. "

"I've got a cell phone, I can call a wrecker."

Thunder and lightning rocked us.

He shot another glance at his watch. "I need to get home," he said. "It's...well, it's Beasley."

"Beasley?"

"My Basset hound—a big baby, afraid of thunder and lighting. He's going berserk right now."

A smile rippled across my face. "Well, why didn't you say so, Mr. Reid? I'll give you a ride home. You can all a wrecker in the morning. Will you need a ride to work?"

"I'll  call a cab."

"Nonsense. I'll pick you up, if you like."

He shook his head. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

"Why not?"

I felt his gaze on me, a gaze far different from his all-business look when he interviewed me. This was a warm, appreciative gaze. "Um...all right," he said. "If you're sure you don't mind."

"I don't."

Windshield wipers clacking, headlights on, I pulled out of my parking spot onto the street and drove slowly through the rain.

"May I offer you something, Miss Allison? Gas money...?"

"Absolutely not, Mr. Reid."

"May I call you Judy? Call me Derrick."

"I'd like that...Derrick."

"I'm sorry about your interview." Now he sounded contrite. "I hope you're not terribly disappointed."

"I'm not. I knew going in I lacked experience."

"Let me assure you, Judy, you have a great future with the company."

"Thank you. "

Silence for a moment.

"Look," he said, "Driving me from and to work, that's not part of your job description. I'm thinking perhaps dinner tomorrow night. Sort of my humble way of saying thanks."

My pulse spiked, my heart started that leapfrogging again, and I felt warm despite being soaked.

"Dinner would be nice."

"You choose the place."

"All right." I stole a glance at him.

He was smiling at me hugely—a warm smile—and I smiled back.

"We look like drowned rats," he said.        

"No doubt," I said, but I was thinking I'd never seen a lovelier rainy day.

The End
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Rescued

"Got another one for you, Mike!" my rescuer said, as he yanked open the ranger station's screen door. "A damsel—alone, lost, and a bit worse for wear."

As I limped into the log-cabin office, a handsome ranger rose from a chair behind a desk and smiled at me with concern and said, "Not badly hurt, I hope."

"It's nothing," I said, my face flaming.

I felt totally embarrassed that I'd been lost in Evergreen National Forest Preserve, far off the trail I was supposed to be hiking. "Just a little gash on my leg."

Smokey—that's the only name the kindly, grizzly old man who'd found me had offered—said, "Spotted her wandering 'bout three miles north of here on Harper's Ridge, long way from Wolf Trail. Figured it was closer to bring her here rather than all the way back to the park, what with it being so late in the afternoon."

With that Smokey said he had to be "gittin' back," and I slumped into a chair just inside the ranger's front door.

"Smokey's quite an old-timer," the ranger said. "He's got a place just north of the preserve. Loves the wilderness. He brings in a lost person once or twice a season." Then, "Let's look at your leg. You should've been wearing jeans. Not shorts," he added a bit reproachfully, I thought.

"I know," I said, sticking out my leg as he knelt down to inspect the gash on my right calf. "I tripped, fell, tumbled down a big hill, and crashed into a boulder."

"Lucky you didn't break something."

The ranger's warm hands carefully rotated my leg back and forth. My heart thumped and I swallowed. Be cool, Brittany!

"Nasty gash," he said. "Won't require stitches, though. Just a good cleaning to prevent infection and then proper bandaging. Name's Mike McFadden."

"Brittany Howell."

Then he stood up and looked down at me. As my heart thumped again, I realized just how handsome he was, arms and face perfectly tanned from the summer sun, blue eyes soft and kind.

"I can fix you up in no time," he said, and raked a hand through his blond hair. "Then take you down to Jubilee Park. You got a car parked there? What in the world were you doing hiking by yourself?"

He didn't wait for an answer to either question.

He marched to the fridge, grabbed a water bottle, gave it to me, and then reached for a first aid kit from a shelf above the fridge. I drank, and the refreshingly cold water swirling in my belly seemed to revive me. As Mike worked on my wound, I debated about revealing why I'd hiked alone. Finally, I decided to tell him—I needed to tell someone, if only a stranger. I should've told Smokey, too.

"Look," I said, wincing as he swabbed my wound with something that stung like crazy. "I know I shouldn't have been hiking alone—this is a long, complicated story."

"I've got time," Mike said.

I grabbed a deep breath. Exhaled. "Six years ago my high school held its graduation party in Jubilee Park. My boyfriend Trent and I sneaked away and hiked Wolf Trail all the way to Lookout Point. He carved our initials into the trunk of a dead tree and the word Forever."

"Lot of young kids in love do that."

I bit my bottom lip. "Trent was in ROTC in high school. He served three tours in Afghanistan. We were to be married, but he didn't come home from his fourth tour." Tears burned my eyes now. "For the last two years, his death has been eating a hole in my heart. I hiked to Lookout Point today to finally say goodbye to Trent, and I felt a great relief. Like we were letting each other go." My voice trailed off, and I brushed my tears away.

"And I'll bet when you were coming back down the trail, you were so distracted you got lost."

Happy that Mike understood, I smiled a little. "Exactly."

His gentle treatment and bandaging of my calf completed, he stood. "Great to see you smile, Brittany. Nice dimples."

Heat rushed to my face.

"Umm...I get relieved at five," he said. "There's a dirt road from here to the park. I can drop you off in my Jeep."

"That would be wonderful."

Then Mike cleared his throat. While his feet shuffled, his gaze swept over me, and my heart thumped again.

"I'd be glad to show you around the preserve sometime," he said. "Lot of changes you might not be aware of."

His offer lifting my spirits, I realized my being rescued was going to result in a lot of changes for me, too. Big ones. This time, a big, big smile crept across my face. "All right," I said. "I can't wait."

The End