We got out and he walked to the back door. He smiled at me and held his finger up, “Don’t tell.” He took two steps over, reached under a flowerpot and retrieved a key. He opened the door, and we walked in. The house was cold, but a bit warmer than outside. He flicked on a few lights. “This is their house.”
It was perfect. Picture perfect, actually. Pretty much exactly how I would have assumed it would look. I walked straight into the dining room, and touched the drawers, exactly how I imagined them to be. I looked around the house and tears started to well. I wasn’t even aware of them until the first fell onto the wood floor. This was his grandpa’s house. And unlike the house that Elizabeth lived in, this one had been untouched since he lived here. I walked around, taking in the old pictures, the small details of love and family all around. “This is absolutely perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He bowed his head slightly, “I love this house. It is the best.”
“So, no one lives here?”
He shook his head, “Not now.”
I wrinkled my brow, “But it is kind of sad that is sits empty. Someone should love it.”
“Well, someone will someday.”
I looked around mournful. It felt empty, like just shadows of family and love were left behind. “This house doesn’t like being empty,” I said the words softly, but I felt it deep in my bones.
His arms wrapped around my waste. “I know, but it won’t be empty forever.”
I tilted my face back, “You won’t sell it will you?”
He shook his head. “No, I suppose I should let someone live here until I get back.”
Things clicked a little, “Wait, this is your house?”
He shrugged, “It’s supposed to be, you know if that deed can be found.” He twisted me around, “If not, I suppose it will be a parking lot, or the end of a cul-de-sac.”
My face was horror struck. “They would tear it down?”
He nodded, “Yeah, this is part of the land that is supposed to be developed. This, the barn, all of it would be leveled.”
My stomach fell to my feet.
“My parents would be left with a small chuck in the back of the property. It’s farmland, but without all of this, they would lose their contracts with their crop buyers. Without enough land to really farm or ranch they wouldn’t be able to make a profit. The taxes alone would kill them. Add that to the piece being basically land locked after this development went in, they would be forced to sell.” He shook his head, “And before you ask, yes they would make money, but that is only part of the deal here. The ranch is more important to them. I’m sure it sounds stupid to some people.
I looked around the room again, imagining a subdivision, with new, cold modern monster homes spread around. Paved roads, streetlamps, and all painted in the boring required HOA color palette. How could anyone tear down this place?
I pushed off his chest. “Ok, then let’s get cracking.”
We headed to the barn, going straight for the medical fridge. The light showed exactly what Tyler had described, about eight long neck beers on the bottom shelf, and brown bottles of medicine sat on the top.
We pulled open the freezer. There really wasn’t much in there. Under some of the frost covered ice packs, Tyler found a Ziploc bag with a piece of fabric in it. He pulled it out, unfolding the cloth.
It was a dinner napkin.
A formal linen dinner napkin.
We looked at each other. “This has to be part of the puzzle. He talked about the linens. It must be connected. “
“But there’s nothing here?” Tyler handed me the fabric and I held it my hand.
A voice came from over my shoulder, “Look closer,” it whispered.
Chills crept up my entire back. I walked out of the barn to examine the napkin in the daylight.
“What just happened?” Tyler was right next to me, blocking my light.
I stepped around him, “It’s this. We are supposed to look closer.”
I searched the cloth and saw on the edge, two small words. “Go Deep.”
“What does Go Deep mean?” I turned to him, watching his face spin.
“I’m not sure. It could be-wait!” His face spread into a grin. “The deep freeze. Grandpa used to say Go Deep when we would get popsicles out of it when we were little. Of course. Mom has talked about cleaning that out for probably two years, but no one has the heart to.” He took my hand, “It has Grandma's last fruit harvest and Grandpa’s last deer. No one can bring themselves to throw the stuff out.”
I nodded. I could see with such patriarchs; the last few things would be the hardest.
“So, let’s go deep.” He laughed as we headed back into the house. This time however, we went down a skinny flight of stairs off the back porch. He jerked the chain on an old pull light above our heads and in the old laundry room stood a gigantic deep freezer.
“Ok, I get the saying now,” I said taking in the sheer size of it.
He walked over and pulled the lid open, “When we were kids, we were always afraid we would fall in and freeze to death,” he laughed as he bent over the frosty contents.
I started looking in too but wasn’t sure what I was looking for. “How do
