I love a good mystery – and today I had one of my own. But to fully share it, first I’ll need to provide a little backstory.
About this time last year, both my family and my little brother’s family drove up to Lewiston, Idaho to salvage some wood from an old family home that was in the process of being torn down. My Grandma is friends with a lovely couple who live on about fifteen acres of farmland on the outskirts of Lewiston. The man, a middle-aged gentleman, built his current home with his own two hands and was now ready to tear down the old family homestead – the one that had housed four generations of his family, including himself. So, roughly one year ago, we made a day of it. Kids in tow, and armed with hammers, crowbars, and metal detectors (to keep the kids occupied), we set out to demolish one of the main side walls of the home. It took ALL DAY – but several back-breaking hours, three bowls of chili a piece, and one damaged tailgate later, we had a trailer of reclaimed wood to use for various projects.
Last weekend we decided (well, my brother decided – but I went along with it), that it was time to return to the farm and demolish the remainder of the house. He needed more wood. I needed just enough for a mini library in the front yard – but that’s another story. So, once again, we headed to Lewiston with our families, picked up Grandma, and made our way to the farm. Luckily, it had been raining and the wet wood came down much easier than the dried-out wood from the year prior. We were done in much less time – giving my brother and his wife time to explore the basement of the old family dwelling. In doing so, they found a simple, handmade wooden table. The legs were in bad shape, but the tabletop was an excellent piece of wood.
Trailer loaded with wood, and bellies full once again with chili and cornbread (now a “tradition”), we headed back to Washington. Fast-forward to today, my baby brother texted to see if we’d bring the trailer of wood to his house. He was going to use most of the wood, after all, and it had been sitting in my driveway for the past week. After lunch, my hubby and I drove the truck to his house and began to offload the wood.
After we’d emptied out the front of the trailer, we lugged out the old table and set it tabletop-side down. In doing so, my brother pointed out a piece of wood beneath the table that appeared to conceal a hidden compartment. Using the claw-end of the hammer, he pried the wooden piece loose – revealing a rusted tin can hidden beneath. When he removed it from its hiding place, we all gasped (okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that dramatic – but it was still pretty exciting).
The tin can hadn’t been opened yet, but I was already wrestling with my conscience. My brother hadn’t indicated how heavy the can was, so possibilities of its contents were endless. What would I do if there was money or other valuables inside it? Would we all split the loot? The right thing to do would be to turn it over to the family, obviously. But would we? I wanted to believe I’d make the right choice, but I couldn’t be sure.
My brother set the rusty can on a sturdy worksurface. With his bare hands, he brushed away the cobwebs and mouse poop. I held my breath, both with anticipation and the burning desire to avoid contracting the Hantavirus. My heart pounded in my chest as my brother worked to peel off the lid of the old tin can. When he popped the top, inside was a small, rolled up piece of paper. Okay, so obviously it wasn’t cash or gold coins. But perhaps it held dark secrets. Or, better yet, a treasure map. I leaned in closer as my brother freed the slip of paper from the can. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my brother unrolled the sheet. He laid it flat on the worksurface, smoothing the brittle paper. I glanced down at it in excitement.
Numbers. Math. Three numbers were scrawled across the scrap of paper, followed by a single line, then a total beneath.
We all looked at each other and laughed. At first, I felt disappointed. Then, relief washed over me, cleansing my guilt from moments prior when I feared I may not do the right thing. My conscience wouldn’t need tested today. The only mystery that remained … was the math correct?
