By Susan Lyttek
“You want to marry me?”
Aba gave me a sad little smile. “Aye, my beauty detective. Want, but cannot.”
The first set of words I’d longed to hear since I’d laid eyes on him nearly six months ago. The second set made me want to strangle him.
“Why not?” I leaned in close, hoping to encourage the marry-Samara attitude. “We’re both adults, right?”
He nodded. “But in my country, man must show he can marry. Taxi business good, but not that good.”
I thought about mentioning that the U.S. was now his country, but I didn’t dare. Our standards of chivalry were not enough for my Aba. “Exactly how amazing are we talking about? I have some savings.”
His eyes narrowed until I could barely see his pupils.
“What did I say?”
He stuck out his chest. “It’s my job. My job to buy you a house. I was so sure I’d find the family legacy. That I’d never have to worry when I fell in love.”
I never tired of hearing that word from his lips. But, as usual, other words didn’t fall as easily. “Why? How? Whose legacy?”
“My Great Uncle Asi, God rest his soul.”
“And?”
Aba ran a hand through his thick waves. I wanted to follow suit but had to stay focused. “He made fortune in your gold rush. We family never see it. But he willed a meadow to first descendant to solve his riddle.” He sighed. “But impossible. We all come here. No one finds anything.”
I was not going to let missing wealth jeopardize my happiness. “I’m a detective, right Aba?”
“Yes, my love.” He bowed his head.
“Is this field nearby?” The wheels of genius started turning.
“Hour, maybe?”
I kissed him to soften the orders that came out of my mouth. “Go get whatever you have from your uncle. Then pick me up and take me out there. I have a wedding to plan.”
Aba supplied me with an old, leather-bound journal and nothing else. As he drove west, I read Asi’s notes. Since the recent heatwave had subsided, Aba had the windows open to catch the breeze.
Thankfully, the man had written in English, hoping to confuse his relatives. Unfortunately, what he had noted didn’t even make sense to me.
Planted gold today. The sun is jealous because he can’t see it. And… Marked treasure with taste of home. Only worthy children can see the promise. Jibberish. Either he’d been insane, or I wasn’t the genius I thought I was.
“Find clue, dearest?”
I shrugged, then realized his eyes were on the road. “Not sure. Maybe it’ll make sense when we’re there.”
It didn’t.
The land Aba’s family had inherited was just a big, open space covered in dandelions. It was golden to be sure, but not the kind Aba was talking about.
We walked the perimeter of what had to be several acres, but knowing how many was beyond a city girl. Other than dandelions, there was one tree—a hickory—in the southwest corner surrounded by clusters of waving green weeds.
“What’re they?” I pointed.
Aba canted his head. “Ah. Papa grew lots of that. Our grain.”
“And it is?”
He rolled his eyes. “How can Americans be so smart and yet so not? It’s barley.”
I’d had barley. Probably. But not often. Maybe in some soup? “This is the land of wheat and corn.”
Aba grunted, leaning over to caress the feathery tassels. “This bread. I can remember Mama pulling it from oven.” He licked his lips.
Asi’s journal shouted at me and I jumped up and down. “It marks the gold!”
“You certain?”
I nodded. “Get the shovels.” It was all I could do not to dig with my hands while he fetched them from the trunk.
He returned with one shovel in each hand. Fortunately, though dandelions encroached on the barley, a short, stone border marked where the crop had been originally sown.
“It seems shame to waste so much barley.” Aba tentatively plunged his shovel into the ground.
I, on the other hand, used every muscle I had to dig into the earth. “When we’re married, I’ll buy barley and learn to cook it for you.”
“Okay, then.” He began to turn over the waving stalks.
My shovel hit something hard dead center of the plot, where any self-respecting treasure should be. “Here! Help!”
Aba lent me his muscle and, in no time, we had unearthed a metal box about the size of a family Bible.
But it was nowhere big enough or heavy enough to contain gold.
“Maybe it has a map inside?” I hoped.
Aba took the shovel and hit the old lock several times. It finally cracked and fell off.
“What’s in it?” I leaned over him so close that I could feel his heartbeat through his back.
He drew out a leather folder and handed it to me. “Yet another chase the goose.” He moaned. “Uncle Asi not like his family.”
I opened up the folder, wishing I had some of the gloves I’d seen museum curators use. The papers inside were yellow and crinkly. Instead of touching them, I used the corner of my shirt to flip page after page of plans and layouts. The numbers looked like longitude and latitude. The last page was a will, offering the complete contents of the box to whoever had found it.
It took me a couple of times paging through them before the numbers and drawings made sense. With a hopeful sigh, I carefully put the folder back in the box, handed the treasure to Aba. “Guard it well, you lucky almost-married man.” Then I leaned in and kissed him. I put all my love into the kiss. I had no breath when we finished.
“What? But no gold.”
I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. “I promise, better than gold.”
Aba now owned a good chunk of the land in the best part of the city.
Can you guess which song from the 1990's inspired this story? Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Just like with the last Samara Spade story, the first one to correctly guess the song inspiration will win a copy of my most recent mystery, A Wedding to Die For. However, you also need to let me know what line in the story clued you in to the song.
Happy guessing!
Great story. I’m guessing Fields of Gold. ‘It was golden to be sure. ‘ is the line.
You got it! Email me at slyttek@yahoo.com to claim your book!
You’re correct! If you’re a member of the Havok Horde, you’ll be automatically entered into a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card at the end of the month.
Good puzzle, surprise ending. Samara continues to entertain.
Fun story! I enjoyed the puzzle. :)