Lisa Evans lifted the wooden cube a little higher in the air and closer to the light so she could study the diminutive engravings. The six inch square box was lighter than a dream and had a delicate unrecognizable carving on each of its six sides. Many before had tried to lift the box but success evaded their labors and they imagined it was either glued to or attached by screws to the display shelf.
The old olive tree carvings had over whelmed the emotions of the young but she was the first adult to appreciate their peculiarity.
"Do you like my little box?" Rupert asked.
"For some reason it fascinates me," she replied, "but for the life of me I can't figure out the carvings on the sides."
"Then maybe this specific box is not for you."
"Oh! I've got to have it. How much do you want for it?"
"If I told you the price you'd probably walk away without it."
"Money means very little to me. Since the day I was born I have had an over abundance of it. Give me a figure."
"The price is five thousand dollars."
"Isn't that extremely high for a piece of carved wood?" she questioned.
"Yes, it is, but I don't want you to give the money to me. I want you to donate it to a children's charity. In fact, if I sell it to you, you've got to promise to take the money there yourself."
"Five thousand dollars donated to a children's charity." she repeated out loud. "Will that tell me the secret of the box?"
"What makes you think there's a secret hidden in this box?"
"I don't know but I'm sure there is."
"You are right. There are many secrets within the box and only you can figure them out. Look at the box again and tell me what you see."
Turning the box around in her hand she stopped and looked at one side. "Funny I didn't see this before. It looks just like a hospital syringe and a needle"
"The box is yours if you will pay the price," Rupert said knowing the box was destined for her.
"I'll pay the price and donate the money to the Youth Center on Oak St. if it's all right with you." "That's the exact place I had in mind."
"Do you want me to have them call you so you'll know I gave the money to them."
"No. You'll do as you said you would. Give the box to me and I'll wrap it for you."
She handed the box to Rupert and no sooner had the box left her hands when she felt weak and nauseated. Her eyes glazed and she stumbled slightly and fell back into a chair. The ever attentive Rupert noticed her predicament and handed her the box while he went for a glass of water. As the box came in contact with her flesh she lost her squeamishness and was normal again.
"I'm all right now she called after Rupert. I feel fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I feel great. I just had a little dizzy spell. I'll take the box the way it is."
"As you please. The box is yours," Rupert said as he walked away.
In a slightly comatose state caused by the current events Lisa slowly strolled to her car, unlocked the door, seated herself behind the wheel and placed the box on the passenger's seat. Immediately the queasiness settled in on her. As rapidly as a robin pounces on a worm she reached for the box and nestled it in her lap. Calmness again became her familiar.
"Is it possible you know my secret little box," she muttered as she drove in the direction of the Youth Center. At destination's end she lingered in the car long enough to write a check for five thousand dollars. She lifted the box from her lap and carried it with her to the office desk.
"I'd like to donate this check to the center but I don't want anyone to know where it came from. Can I do that?"
"Absolutely," the recipient of the of the check answered, "many people donate money to us anonymously."
Lisa had completed an about face and was heading toward the exit when she noticed a petite lass sitting in a wheel chair struggling to color in her coloring book.
"What's wrong with her?" she asked pitying a child that would undoubtedly spend her entirety wheelchair bound.
"She was born to a mother addicted to heroin and can't walk or talk."
"What's she doing here?"
"She was left here nearly six years ago and I just couldn't turn her over to someone that might not take care of her. My husband and I adopted her." "May I talk to her?"
"You can talk but she can't answer."
"What's her name?"
"Tisa Marie."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful child."
Lisa walked over to the table where Tisa was coloring and sat down beside her. "You do a good job of staying inside the lines."
Very slowly a tiny head turned to her and Lisa had never seen a more beautiful child. Half black and half white she had been blessed with the best features of both parents. Her skin was slightly black, her hair almost harvest gold, her mouth small and slightly puckered, and her eyes so dark brown they appeared to have been toasted.
"The father was black and the mother white and apparently both were addicts," Lisa thought as she studied the child's features.
"Do you like to color?" she asked the lass.
Lisa never expected an answer and she was thunderstruck when a tiny pair of eyes stared longingly at the box she was so tightly holding.
"She must think I have brought her a gift," Lisa thought afraid the child might not relinquish the cube if she allowed her to hold it. Her first inclination was to turn away but she couldn't. Kismet, destiny, or some ethereal apparition had ordained she be steered there for a reason and as of yet she didn't know what the reason was. Lisa's eyes were directed to the box and the only discernible carving was a hypodermic syringe, needle straight and sharp, and plunger extracted as if to give an injection.
Lisa took Tisa's wee hand and placed it on the box. Tisa straightened slightly, slowly lifted her head so she could stare into Lisa's eyes, and sweetly smile, "Thank you." The drug injecting paraphernalia faded as Tisa's hand was removed from the carving.
Lisa held the mysterious box in her lap as she traveled the road home. She had been blessed from birth by parents with a fortune that ranked high on the list of the wealthy and when they died she was their only heir. Billions of dollars that had been accumulated by her father lay in the bank daily drawing interest for her already over inflated bank account.
With thoughts wandering slightly and distancing themselves from caution, she turned a corner too fast and the box slipped from her lap. Again the lightning bolt of queasiness found its mark in her stomach and nearly doubled her over. Her body revived itself as she grabbed the box and nuzzled it in her lap. She controlled the direction of the vehicle with her left hand holding onto the box with her right. As her fingers caressed the cube she felt one of its sides become distorted and that startled her into steering the car to the curb and stopping the engine.
Displayed there was a carving of all the pills that were causing her discomfort. She had become addicted to pills as surely as a heroin addict was controlled by his master demon. The loss of her parents had affected her thinking process and her constant brooding invited depression. Her family doctor prescribed little green pills to abate her mental illness and they turned off that section of the brain that controls sleep. The blue pill prescription to make her drowsy at night made her apathetic during the late morning hours so he prescribed yellow uppers to arouse her spirit. Soon her cabinet was overloaded with enough prescription drugs to allow her to control every emotion, every pain, every feeling her body created.
She restarted the engine and soon was sitting in her cozy living room holding the box in her lap. As was her habit she checked the answering system on her phone and listened to the message that had been left for her. She dialed the number of the Youth Center and waited until a female voice finally answered,
"Youth Center, Mrs. Hebert here."
"Hello, Mrs. Hebert this is Lisa Evans. I had a message on my answering machine that someone from the center had called me."
"Oh! yes, Miss Evans I tried to reach you minutes after you left. A most remarkable thing happened. The little girl you talked to, Tisa, got out of her chair and started talking to me. She says she owes her recovery to you. I don't know what you did to help her but I'm most appreciative and you have my undying gratitude."
"I really didn't do anything to help her. I'm glad she has recovered and thank you for the call."
Lisa looked at the box in her hand. The side where the syringe had been carved was now unscathed. The carving had disappeared and that side was as smooth as her polished coffee table. She checked the side where she had felt and seen her pills and they were as outstanding as the as the piano resting in the northeast corner of her living room. Slowly she laid the box on the sofa next to her and feeling as much anxiety as squeamishness she arose and rushed to the medicine cabinet. She emptied it of all pills, dumped them into the toilet, and flushed the misery out of her life. She was free of the nausea. Free of the desire to chemically control her body and the second side of the cube was as smooth as the first.
The third side of the box had began a transfiguration that meant absolutely nothing to her. Beautifully carved was an unusual looking bottle. She held the box close to her face so she could read the tiny carved letters on the label; Regal Scotch. The meaning of this omen baffled her and some what rattled her psyche. Nobody would ever consider her to be a drinker for she seldom imbibed in anything containing alcohol. Once in her teens had she drunk enough to make her tipsy and the feeling frightened her. From that day on she limited herself to one very small glass of white wine which she usually held in her hand at parties as a social gesture.
The sound of the phone ringing attracted her attention and when she said "Hello" into the mouthpiece she had a feeling of foreboding as she listened.
"This is Mrs. Hebert again. I just got a call from the Mayor and they have decided to destroy the Youth Center and build a mall here. I want to give you back your donation."
"They can't do that. How many children utilize the center?"
"When we first started out we had a membership of nearly two thousand kids, but as City Hall cut our funds more and more of them dropped out. Right now our regular membership is down to a hundred and sixty and most of them don't come around much any more."
"Mrs. Hebert hold on to my check for a few days. Maybe something will happen to make the Mayor change his mind."
"I hope you're right, Miss Evans, but he's a hard man to deal with. "
"Do you know him well?"
"I'd say I do. He's my brother-in-law. At one time he was a good man but he picked up some bad habits somewhere and completely reversed his life."
"You hold that check and I'll see what I can do."
"I wish you all the luck in the world but I don't think it will do any good."
"We'll see."
As soon as Lisa stopped talking she called the Mayor's office and made an appointment to see him within the hour.
"Good afternoon," she said as she walked into his office and closed the door.
"Good afternoon, Miss Evans. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked without ever leaving his position behind the huge desk.
"I was told you plan on tearing down the Youth Center and putting a mall up there. Is that correct?"
"Yes, but it was not just my decision. Several people were at the meeting when we decided the Youth Center was no longer doing what it was intended for. Does that create a problem for you?"
"No, not really, but I feel if you hadn't held back the funds allotted to the Center you wouldn't have to close it."
"All the funds that were supposed to went to the Center. They were never cut."
"I was told today that they had been cut."
"You must have been talking to Margie Hebert. She tells everyone she doesn't have funds to run the Center. I don't know what she does with the money we give her."
"It will be easy to find out, Mayor. I'll go back and talk to her. I'm sure she'll show me her books and surely she is audited yearly by the City." The Mayor's face began to flush.
"What is your interest in the Youth Center, Miss Evans."
"I don't really know, Mayor. I had never seen the inside of the building until today and a certain little girl there got to me. I want to help Mrs. Hebert."
"You're a little late to help the Youth Center. It will be destroyed in a week and a mall will go up there. Incidentally, the mall will carry my name." And almost before he said it he wished he hadn't.
"That smells a little fishy, Your Honor. Why would anyone name a mall after you unless they were going to get something in return?"
For the first time the Mayor rose to his feet and leaned toward Lisa.
"Are you insinuating what I think you are?" he asked as his voice rose almost to a bellows. Lisa stepped back from the out rush of the air from the Mayor's mouth. It smelled of booze. Lisa took a quick glance around the room and noticed a bottle sitting on a table behind the Mayor. Seeing her eyes transfixed on the bottle the Mayor said, "I'm coming down with a cold and I needed something to ward it off. It's an old family recipe."
"Do you have many colds during the year?" Lisa asked as she read the label on the bottle written in big red letters. Regal Scotch, the best fifty year old scotch available.
"Is that another insinuation, Miss Evans, or are you just trying to be rude."
"Please forgive me, Mayor. It seems I may have overstayed my visit. I will check with Margie at the Youth Center and I will have her books audited. If something is wrong you'll be the first one to know."
She briskly arose from the chair and exited the room. She hesitated just outside the Mayor's door wondering if another appointment would be necessary and thinking about the possibility she may be prying into something that was none of her business. Thinking about the bottle of scotch carved into the cube relieved her of all negative thoughts and she understood she was there for a purpose.
Without knocking she reentered the room as the Mayor swallowed enough intoxicant to douse a huge fire. Evidently he had a thirst that required immediate quenching for he had not bothered to pour the drink into a glass. It was going directly from bottle to mouth with no in-between interventions and with such desire he didn't see Lisa standing there. Slowly she backed out, closed the door, and walked away. She spoke to the Mayor's secretary.
"Tell His Honor I'll be back in thirty minutes and I want to donate a large amount of money to the Youth Center. If he wants the money tell him to wait for me."
She didn't break any speed limits on the way home but she stretched a few almost to the breaking point. Rushing into the house she picked up the box and sped back to the Mayor's office.
"Is he still in his office?" Lisa asked of the secretary.
"Yes, he's still there, but I don't know why. He thinks you're crazy."
"He may be correct but I'm not crazy enough to be in a drunken stupor in my office during work hours."
The secretary wanted to make a profound statement that would be in agreement with her guest but thought better of it. She was cognizant of the Mayor's problem but was afraid to speak in fear of losing a good paying job. Lisa burst into the office startling the slightly tipsy Mayor who was sitting behind his desk. It appeared he had just awaken from a short nap.
"Are you crazy or do you want to donate money to the Youth Center just to aggravate me?" the Mayor asked slurring some of his words.
"Maybe a little bit of each. Several people have told me I am a little crazy and I do have unlimited money to do with as I please. But right now you disturb me, Mayor. You're an alcoholic and you need help."
"Who told you that ridiculous lie?" the Mayor asked as his voice raised another thirty decibels.
"Nobody told me. They didn't have to. It's carved right here on this box I hold."
"It's carved there that I'm a drunk? Are you totally off your rocker?"
"Look close at the carving Mayor and tell me what you see." The Mayor stiffened a little as he took the box from her and held it up in front of his eyes.
"Well I'll be damned," he said in sobering tones. "How could anyone possible know about Regal Scotch. I have it made by a company in Canada just for me and it's a very special blend."
He passed the box back to Lisa.
"May I taste it, Mayor?"
"Sure. Let me get you a glass."
"If you don't mind I'll take it from the bottle the same as you."
The Mayor twitched wondering how she knew his drinking preference and politely passed her his liquid dependency. She raised the bottle to her nose, inhaled deeply, and squinched in disgust.
"How in the world can you stand this stuff? It stinks worse than a hamper full of dirty clothes."
"Stinks. It's evident to me you know very little about scotch. It has a body and aroma that requires an acquired taste." He recovered the bottle and his eyes danced as he lifted it to his nose sucking in its sweet smell. The snort that started in his liquor soaked body and erupted through his slightly enlarged proboscis must have resonated in the next county. "What did you do to my scotch?" he bellowed, "It smells like kerosene."
"I didn't do anything to it. If you have another bottle open it and see if it smells as putrid."
Fearfully the Mayor dug into one of the drawers in his desk and found a supplementary bottle of liquid pleasure. He nervously broke the seal, unscrewed the cap, and put the bottle to his nose.
"Suffering catfish," he said out loud, "this one smells worse than the first one."
"And I think the next bottle will be even worse than that. I doubt that you'll ever be able to touch another drink of scotch as long as you live."
A dejected being slumped back in his chair.
"That's all right with me. I don't need the stuff anyhow. Like I told you before I'm catching a cold and I was using it as medicine."
"Yes, and elephants and ants are seconds cousins. You've got to admit to yourself you're an alcoholic before you can be fully cured."
"I'm not an alcoholic, Miss Evens," came the denying reply, "I'm strictly a social drinker."
"You may absolutely correct," Lisa continued trying to use a little reverse psychology. "How much liquor would you say you consume every day?"
"Not much, really. Maybe a water glass full, all day."
"That's not too bad. Didn't you say you had it shipped down from Canada?"
"That's correct."
"How much do they ship at a time?" asked an inquisitive mind. "And how often do they ship it?"
The Mayor began to squirm in his chair feeling slightly uneasy. "I get two cases at a time every other week."
"Let me see now," Lisa said trying to be completely logical. "At least four cases a month, twelve bottles to a case, that should be about forty eight fifths. How much does each fifth cost?"
The Mayor was sweating profusely and was reluctant to answer, but couldn't refuse. "I pay thirty dollars a fifth plus shipping and handling."
"If my arithmetic is correct that should be about fourteen hundred and forty dollars a month plus shipping and handling. With only thirty days in a month and you getting forty eight fifths, that's a little over a fifth and a half a day. Not a water glass full. Mayor you're an alcoholic and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the money came from the funds that were supposed to go to the Youth Center."
"That's ridiculous. I'm not an alcoholic, just a social drinker, or---or----at least I used to be but....but right now I don't care if I never touch another drop as long as I live. I was an alcoholic an hour ago but right now I don't care if I ever taste alcohol again."
Lisa looked at the box and the carving had almost disappeared.
"There's a good possibility you'll never touch another drop but that's not why I'm here. We've got to do something about the Youth Center before it's too late."
"I think it is already too late to do anything about that. The paperwork has already been initiated for the new mall and nobody can stop it."
"I think the voters will when they find out you've been using funds that should have been going to their children to buy your booze."
"You can't prove a stupid statement like that," the Mayor said quickly becoming very defensive.
"I don't have to. When the books are audited I'm sure everyone will know where the money went."
"You don't think I'm stupid enough to do anything wrong with public money do you."
"Yes, I do, and I'm rich enough to find out what you've done with the money and who has put you in their pocket. Either you cancel the mall and give back the money to the Youth Center or I go public with it."
"Go public with what. You can't prove I've done anything wrong."
"Mayor, proving you're messing with public funds will be the easiest thing I've ever done. I can go to the papers and find out everything there is to know about you. I can even get a lawyer and have your financial statements checked to see if you're saving more than you're making."
"I think we've said all we need to say to each other, Miss Evans. Good afternoon," and with those words she was dismissed from the Mayor's office.
"Men have made fools of women for years," she said to herself as she drove toward the youth center, "but here's one man that won't make a fool out of me. The box did him a big favor by removing his drinking problem and you'd think he'd be thankful for that, but he doesn't seem to be." When she arrived at the center she entered and walked directly to Mrs. Hebert and was joyfully greeted by her.
"I don't know what happened but the Mayor has changed his mind and I'll get all the funds I need for the Center. Did you have something to do with it?"
"I'd like to think so. What did you do before you came here?"
"Believe it or not I was a registered nurse and had worked up to head nurse. One night my husband and I were out driving and we saw all the children walking the streets and decided to do something about it. I guess it was fate for the next day I read in the paper the lady running the Youth Center was retiring and they needed someone to run it. I applied and was accepted and I've been here ever since. Then my brother-in-law made Mayor and my funds began to get smaller and smaller. I begged for more money but he didn't seem to care what happened to the kids that were spending a lot of time here."
"Do you know where the money is going that was supposed to be used on the kids?"
"I have an idea but I can't do anything about it. When my husband died last year I was cast out of the family and I was told if I did anything to make waves I'd lose this job. But now that the Mayor has relented I can get some of the programs started again."
"What do you need to really open this place up again?"
"The kids always loved the bands when I could afford them. We had one group that grew up here and played a lot for us. Now they have become famous and we don't get as much money in a year as they make in one hour.
"What's the name of the band?"
"The Bad Boys and Angel."
"I didn't realize they started here. I'll tell you what I'll do. If I can get in touch with them I'll have them play for you so you can reopen in style. Do you know where they are now?"
"They're on a concert tour in Europe but are supposed to return to the states in less than a month."
"Can I do anything else to help?"
"Not that I can think of right now. Your donation will help us get on our feet in a hurry. I can't thank you enough for your help." The little band returned from Europe after a successful tour that far exceeded their monetary expectations and on the day of their stateside arrival in New York Lisa was there. She tried to make an appointment but found it impossible. Every attempt at meeting them failed. Her unsuccessful attempts at contacting the group irritate her tremendously until she took a careful look at the box. On the forth side was a faint carving of a marijuana plant twining itself around a guitar and featuring a single blossom that looked exactly like a twenty dollar bill. In addition was the numbers 789.
Now she understood the reason for her frustration. Her purpose for being there was at least twofold. To persuade them to perform at the Center and to release a guitarist from the heavy monkey on his back. But what was the meaning of the twenty dollar bill, the number 789, and how was she supposed to reach them.
Her gray cells had apparently malfunctioned for nothing entered her mind for a couple days. The local paper they'd be staying at the Hilton Hotel and had asked not to be disturbed as they were in rehearsal for a new album. So she did the only logical thing she could think of. She moved into the Hilton. She was certain when the desk clerk assigned her a room it would be 789, but it wasn't. She was in room 787 and that meant only one thing. The group was next door. She got the cube from her suitcase, took a deep breath, and knocked at the adjacent door. The room was huge and the band was there getting ready to rehearse a new song they had just received from their song writer. A very talented young lady named Barbara Sable. Lisa was welcomed inside only after she convinced them she was from their home town. When she explained the predicament the Center was in they said they would perform for one night gratis. It would have to be on a Friday night as all their Saturdays were booked for the next seven months. That was fine with Lisa who was sure Mrs. Hebert would find it more than satisfactory.
Angel noticed the box Lisa was carrying.
"Is that a new type purse or something?" she asked wondering why she hadn't seen anything like it before.
"No," Lisa answered with a smile, "it's a curio I picked up in a wood carver's store. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, there's something carved on the side and I'm curious why a lady your age and upbringing would carry around a carving of a marijuana plant."
"I didn't know it was a marijuana plant." Lisa lied as she passed the box to her curious host.
Angel smiled slightly as the box entered her hand and she gazed down at the carving.
"Doesn't this look like a marijuana plant to you guys she asked as she passed it to Jerry, the lead guitarist, sitting next to her. He jerked so hard Lisa thought for a moment he might be going into convulsions.
"It sure looks like it to me," he said as he passed the box to the bass player who in turn passed it to the drummer. After each member of the band had examined the box it was passed back to Lisa. That side of the box was as smooth as the other three.
"I'll see you at the Youth Center in June." and added as an afterthought, "Friday the thirteenth."
The concert passed all expectations for attendance and two new songs they sang that night sky rocketed to the top of the charts. One was a song called Drug Free and the other a beautiful ballad called A Twenty Dollar Sweater that really described Angel's life.
The four previous carvings became fairly obvious shortly after their appearance, but the fifth side threw Lisa for a total loss. It was an airplane flying over a little white chapel nestled in a grove of coniferous trees. As a city dweller, wholly content to remain there, the thought of evacuating her residence never entered her mind. She could never part with the house her mother and father had so lovingly shared all the years of their marriage and the building where she was born. They married late in life and Lisa received her first spank and uttered her first cry when her mother was forty two years old. Her parents dearly love her and she gave them all her love in return. In junior high she had many opportunities to date but didn't because her father and mother were getting older and needed most of her attention. Her father had a gift for attracting money and accumulated a vast fortune in the commodities market. Her mother's gift was the ability to hold on to it.
In college she met, and dated Perry James. He was the Herculean type, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, brown eyed, and a brilliant student but Lisa dropped him like a hot frying pan when she caught him fooling around with other girls. From that day forth all her attention was directed to her studies and her ailing parents. She always evaded the advances of other males for none of them ever measured up to the one man she really adored, her father. When he died ( followed shortly by her mother ) she chose to be alone and loveless.
The meeting of poor tiny Tisa sitting in the Youth Center had dissolved the barrier in her heart and she felt love again. A warm sensation flowing from toe to pate. The combination of the look in Tisa's sunken eyes when she silently said thanks, the feel of a small boney hand as it touched the box, and the knowledge she had probably restored life to a listless body all united to arouse feelings long ago forgotten.
Checking her mail was a task that required a minimum amount of time for all she ever received was a few bills and piles of junk mail. A slight sensation tickled the back of her neck when she noticed a typed letter from Perry. He had been her first and only sweetheart. She nervously opened the letter, wondering why he had written to her after all these years, and tears overflowed her usually happy eyes when she read the contents. Perry was in a California hospital dying of aids. The letter had been written by a friend and begged Lisa to visit Perry before it was too late. The only regret in his short life was not telling Lisa how sorry he was for hurting her and he wanted to atone for his shortcomings. The letter further stated the doctors said he would die within the week. The impulse to see him one last time moved her to the phone and within minutes she was in conversation with the hospital. Perry would die that night or early the next morning and if she wished to see him it must be done immediately.
Lisa's dad had never owned a plane, though he had talked about it several times, and whenever it was necessary to travel always chartered a jet from the local airport. Lisa located the airport number in the rotary file and called to reserve a small jet to depart for California as soon as she arrived. She packed a bag, called a cab, and in less than ninety minutes was sitting in a plane heading west. Her concentration was centered on Jerry and deep thoughts of him whirled around inside her skull. She couldn't help wondering what his life had been like once the two of them parted company. Her reflections were thousands of miles away in a California hospital when the co-pilot approached her.
"Miss Evans we're experiencing an engine problem and we need to shut it down. There isn't a big problem yet. We can fly on one engine but it's getting dark and we're only a couple hours away from our home base. We've decided to return and get another plane. It will put you a little behind schedule but we'd rather get you there safely than not at all."
Lisa started to say she was a little disappointed but before the words came the interior of the airplane became silent. The other engine had failed and the plane was obeying the law of gravity by heading earthward. The co-pilot scurried back to the cockpit and the last thing Lisa heard was herself screaming as the plane hit the ground, moved along for a few feet, and came to a sudden stop.
When her eyelids mustered enough power to force themselves open she knew she had died and entered paradise. In the celestial light she saw the face of her father when he was young, but didn't remember him growing a mustache. Especially one that gave him the appearance of Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind. She couldn't recall his eyes or his hair being that dark. The fact was she didn't remember him ever being that handsome. With time the fog faded from her eyes and she was looking into a face more handsome than any seen in her dreams. A man, an Adonis, wearing a blue suit that was far paler than the blue in his eyes. A comely face more regal in appearance than any of the statues of the Roman, Greek and Italian Gods she had seen in her travels. As her eyes became totally clear she gazed into the face of Dr. Allen Creath.
"How do you feel Miss Evans?" he asked as he turned her hand so he could feel the pulse in her wrist. Tingles saturated her body at his touch.
"I feel wonderful. What happened?"
"You had a very good pilot. When both engines failed he landed the plane in a road and he and his co-pilot walked away without a scratch."
"Than why am I here in the hospital? If they weren't hurt I shouldn't be either."
"You probably won't believe this but you were hit on the head by the coffee pot when the plane hit the road. It knocked you out and gave you a concussion. You'll be fine in a few days. We want to keep you until the x-rays come back and as a precaution I want you to have a thorough physical."
"I've got to get to California tonight. A friend of mine is dying and I've just got to be there."
"No way possible, Miss Evans. Even if you were well enough to travel, you couldn't. There isn't an airport within a hundred miles of here."
"Just where is here?" Lisa asked finally wondering where she was, "and where is the case I was carrying with me?"
"You're in Hyden Kentucky and your case is in that closet." he said pointing to it.
Suddenly Lisa felt exhausted, her head hurt just a little, and her eyes started to close.
"I gave you a sedative so you could rest comfortably. Sleep now and I'll see you first thing in the morning."
"I'll be waiting." Lisa answered as she drifted off.
Breakfast next morning was meaningless to her. It was just something to do until the most handsome man in all of Kentucky, or even the United States, came back into her life. His emergence generated within her a heart that thumped and bumped so profusely she feared it would burst. He had only been involved in her life for a few short hours and already she was head over heels in love, but these things just didn't happen. Not in real life anyhow.
"How did you find your way out here?" she asked as he drew a chair up to her bed and joined her in a cup of coffee.
"I was born here and promised my mother I'd come back and work for awhile. She was a single parent and worked two jobs to get me through college. I owe her....big time."
"Does she still live here?"
"If you can call it living. She's in our old house and I have a nurse taking care of her but she hardly recognizes me any more. I've thought a thousand time about getting her away from here and into a place where she'd be more comfortable."
"She'd be comfortable in my house," Lisa offered without thinking how it might sound to Allen. "My mother was sick for some time before she died and I had special room made for her. There's a lot of sunshine during the day and the best bed money can buy. Your mother is welcome to stay at my house if you wish."
"That's a generous offer but I can't accept it. I can't be far away from her and I've got to get back to my practice."
"There's plenty of room there for you, if you'd care to stay, and one of the biggest hospitals in the state is less than thirty minutes away. I think you'd like it there and I know your mother would."
"You're the kindest person I've ever met, Lisa, but I can't accept your kind invitation"
"Why not. Are you married?"
"No, it isn't that. If I knew you better, and we had a few dates, that would be one thing but you know nothing about me and I know absolutely nothing about you."
"I know a lot about you and your mother from what you have already told me." she said fearing she was driving him away.
"I'm still young, Lisa, but I live by the old fashion values taught me by my mother. I'll never live with someone until I slip a ring on her finger and change her name."
Lisa smiled. She was positive her last name was about to change. Otherwise why would the chapel be carved on the cube and why would she be in the hills away from her beloved city. Allen would be hers but it would take time.
Thoughts enter and leave the mind faster than the speed of light and her mind was in the overload mode. Chapels are designed with other intentions beside weddings. Weekly services are held there and so are funerals. Was it possible destiny would play a joke her so vile it would boggle her sanity. Had she traveled this far in life and found her soul mate only to lose him before she had a chance to declare her love, or would it be her that others might be viewing as they walked by her casket? Rationale said it couldn't be her. There was still the sixth side of the cube. The only thing that would solve her puzzle was time.
"The pilot left today and should be back within the week with two engines and a mechanic," Allan said. "He plans on flying the plane out of here using the road as his runway. Will you wait and leave with him or will you go back some other way?"
"I'll wait and go back with the plane," she answered without hesitation, "but I'll need a place to stay until the crew returns. Is there a bed and breakfast handy."
"The best in Kentucky is less than three miles from here. It's owned and run by the Morgan family. If you'd like I'll call and make the arrangements."
"Please do. And by the way, when do I get out of here?"
"Tomorrow morning if all the tests are negative, and I'm sure they are. After your release I'll drive you to your room. OK?"
"Sounds good to me." Time has a peculiar way in passing. When the heart is loaded with pain and sorrow days drag into eons but when love occupies the circulatory pump days shrink into seconds. Lisa and Allen spent every moment possible together trying to add more hours to the day so they would last longer.
The engines and crew arrived and were well on their way to completing their job when Lisa knew she must make her move. Without Allen her life would be meaningless. Her own parents knew each other less than a month when they married and were kindred souls until the day they died. What's to say the same thing couldn't happen to them.
That night at dinner Lisa's uneasy stomach wouldn't behave. They had ordered their meal and salad had been served but neither one touched it. Her appetite had abandoned her, her palms sweat copiously, and she was weak and close to being nauseous. She wondered if everyone in love felt like this or was it just her vivid imagination going astray. Or was this condition brought on by fear? Fear of losing the only man she could ever love.
Allen wasn't doing any better. If anything he was in worse shape than she was. He tried to speak but his tongue was thick and his throat drier than the Sahara. He gulped some water and blurted out, "Will you marry me?"
Lisa froze for a moment. Yes was on her tongue, in her throat, mind, and heart, but the word wouldn't pass through her lips. Slowly her head began to bob up and down in an affirmative manner and as the motion increased in intensity it released her vocal restriction and she answered, "Yes."
"We really don't know much about each other do we?" he asked when he recovered from her answer.
"We know enough to for now and the rest we can learn in the next fifty years," she said. "When and where shall we get married?"
"Anywhere and anytime you say."
"If you're leaving the time and place up to me, Allen, I'd say tonight and here in the local church."
"I say tomorrow but not in the church. I have a much prettier place than that in mind."
"I don't have a wedding dress with me."
"That doesn't matter. There's a bridal shop in town and I'm sure they'll be glad to fit you with something nice. I need to make a couple phone calls and get things rolling. I'll be back in a minute," and saying that planted their first kiss on her lips and left. Now she felt an emotion that was unknown to her before; forlornness. She knew he would return momentarily and this dumb feeling would dissipate for his presence warmed her like the sun warms the soil.
"It's all set," he said when he reseated himself, "tomorrow morning at ten o'clock in...."
"In a little white chapel nestled in some trees on the side of a hill," Lisa added thinking about her carved Chapel. She knew this was a heavenly designed omen telling her she had found the man fate had planned for her. She wanted to show the carved box to Allen but felt sure the fifth side of the box would be as smooth as the rest.
Inside the church Allen's mother sat in her wheelchair, present in body only. Her mind was far away in a foggy mist that was slave to neither time nor logic but had one big advantage. It was also free from suffering.
After the short wedding ceremony Allen strapped his mother in the jet and with his new bride by his side the three of them headed for the big city. They would honeymoon after Allen's mother was settled in Lisa's house and provided with a cortege of medical professionals to attend to her every need.
They spent a week at the Turks and Caicos Islands that are located a little southeast of the Bahamas and returned home to find Allen's mother greatly improved.
While they were honeymooning Lisa told Allen about her wonderful carved box and of the experiences she had been through since it first became hers. Allen, the world's number one skeptic, doubted the powers of a carved box. When Lisa handed it to him five sides were as smooth as glass and the sixth side was just slightly rough. A week after returning from their honeymoon tarriance Lisa checked the box and quickly passed it to Allen. The sixth side of the box now displayed the lead of a bullet in flight, aimed at her.
For the first time she felt another new emotion; panic. Not the kind felt from a scary movie, or a near miss in an automobile, but the kind of horror that is born somewhere deep inside and ties knots in the stomach and makes the heart pound so hard it hurts. She had been witness to the amazing results of the other five sides and she understood fully what this carving meant. Regardless of any safety measure available to her she knew the bullet was meant for her. What she didn't know was where or when.
The carving had become more indisputable with each passing hour and skeptical Allen was rapidly becoming a convert. He could see the change and wondered how the transfiguration appeared without assistance from human hands. Lisa became fascinated with the bullet on her carving and carried the box everywhere she went.
One Saturday afternoon, two months after her marriage, she and Allen were walking hand in hand down Oak Street on way to the Youth Center when someone behind her called her name, "Lisa Evans". Instinctually they both turned in the direction of the voice to face a twenty eight year old female pointing a gun at Lisa.
"Perry died without ever having a chance to talk to you. He had been in an accident and was given a blood transfusion. The blood was tainted and he got aids. For some reason he felt sorry for you and wanted to tell you so but you didn't have the decency to go see him. He died the day after you called the hospital."
"I tried to go see him but the airplane crashed and I was taken to a hospital. I wanted...." But before she could complete the sentence she heard a bang and felt her stomach explode with pain. Two men passing by quickly grabbed the gun and subdued the would be assassin as Lisa fell to the ground. In a millisecond Allen was kneeling over her, terrified. She looked into his face, closed her eyes, and gasped.
Slowly, laboriously, she inhaled small quantities of air until at last her lungs began to function normally. The lead had hit the box with such force it rammed the box into Lisa's stomach forcing all in taken air to be expelled. With assistance from Allen she stood upright, passed the box to him, and walked toward her unknown enemy.
"Who are you and why did you shoot me?"
"I'm Perry?s sister and I figured you had spoiled his life. The night he had his accident he was thinking of you and got so drunk he couldn't drive. I'd heard Perry talk about you so much I knew where you lived and I came to find you, but I don't know why. I don't dislike you and I'm sorry I ever tried to shoot you."
"Do you have money enough to get back to California?" Lisa asked.
"Yes, I have a round trip ticket."
"Then I suggest you use it and head back home right now. The police will be here soon and you'll be in trouble."
"You aren't going to turn me in?"
"No."
"I really don't know what made me do it."
"I think I do, but it would take too long to explain. Have a good trip."
She turned back to a very bewildered Allen who was standing statuesquely holding the box. He passed it to her and once in her hands the top moved forward about a quarter of an inch suggesting the possibility of entrance. Her effort to move the top side again ended in failure but the north side moved slightly. She pushed until all north side movement ceased and tried moving the west side. Over and over she pushed and moved different sides until all movement ceased so she tried the top again. When she tried to move it instead of moving forward it moved slightly left, and all the other sides followed suit. It took her nearly twenty minutes to figure out the movement combination and when she moved the last side, the box fell to the ground. All except the bottom piece. It was supporting a wooden bracelet with miniatures charms.....a wooden syringe.... small wooden pills....a tiny wooden bottle of Regal Scotch....a wooden marijuana leaf....a tiny wooden chapel....and a small wooden bullet.
Lisa gathered all the sides and ends and tried to reconstruct the wooden cube but when all efforts failed she put the pieces in her purse and she and her love continued on their way.
