One Dime(Edited)

Gibert and I arrive at the out-of-the-way desert town at nearly one in the somnolent July afternoon.  The first thing that greets our eyes is the rusty chassis of a horse-drawn carriage. It  stands forlornly before a row of old, weather-worn shop buildings. In the distance is a mountain of rocky stature. Totally still and devoid of life, the uninhabited town exudes an air of quiescent melancholy.

“Let’s walk to the carriage,” says Gilbert.

“Why?” I ask.

“Just follow what I say,” he replies.

We get out of our car and walk towards the carriage.  The gritty sand crunches under our feet.  It is the only sound apart from  the hollow whistling of the wind.  I am uneasy in the oppressive silence.  I do not know why we have come here.  Gilbert and I had been on our way to Yellowstone  National Park before he took the sudden decision to turn off the main road and head into the long-abandoned town.  If Gilbert has set his mind on something, there is no stopping him.

                Walking with long strides, Gilbert is a few meters ahead of me. I have to hasten my steps to catch up with him.  Feeling insecure in this desolate place, I want to be as near to him as possible.  I extend my hand towards him, hoping that he will grab it but he does not.  His eyes are fixated on the carriage which is now only inches before him.  Without turning his head in my direction, he crouches down and crawls under the carriage.

“What are you doing?” I ask in bewilderment.

He does not answer me. Like a dog, he starts digging.

“Gil, for heaven’s sake! Can you please tell me what you’re looking for?” I shout, holding my head with both hands.

“Quiet, Brenda.” Gilbert hisses, breaking his silence, his hands still digging, “I am looking for something that’s important to you.”

“What is it?” I kneel down beside him, curiosity getting the better of me.

“ You will know later. I buried it when I was ten,” he answers.

“Ten!?” I put my hand to my mouth in disbelief. How did he know that I would be his wife when he was ten? What did he bury in the sand? Was it diamond, gold, or just an ordinary knick-knack?

 I first met him at the age of nineteen at a party.  He was two years older than I was.  We tied the knot three days after my twenty-fourth birthday.

Gilbert has dug a rather deep hole by now, his face sweaty and caked with grime. How silly and childish he looks.  I cannot help  but shaking my head.   It’s a good thing that we are the only ones in the deserted town.

All of a sudden, Gilbert’s head jerks up and hits the bottom of the carriage with a thud. I gasp and ask if he is all right.

“I am okay, don’t worry,” says he, rubbing his head. “I’ve found it.”

“You’ve found it?”

“Yes. “ he says as he crawls out, holding something in his right hand.  I help him to his feet.

“My, look at you! There is sand all over you. What an over-aged child you are,” I berate him as I brush the sand off his face and body with my handkerchief.

Grinning widely at me, he opens his right hand and reveals a grime-encrusted matchbox.  He puts it near my ear and gives it a good shake.

“Guess what’s inside the matchbox,” says Gilbert, his facial expression sly and naughty.

I prick my ears to the sound and say, “Sounds like there is a round object inside. Is it a ring?”

“No.”

“Is it a gold nugget?”

“You are wrong again.” He gives my cheek a light tap, as if I were a little child.

“What is it, then?” I demand to know, stamping my foot impatiently.

Gilbert chuckles and pushes the box open with his thumb .  I peep into the box and what I can see is an unprepossesing  dime.

“What has the coin got to do with me?” I blurt out incredulously.

Gilbert glances down at me, his face now a mask of seriousness.

“Brenda, I came to this place with my parents when I was ten. My father did a thing that I have never forgotten.”

“What did he do?”

“ He dug a hole under the carriage and took out a matchbox. There was a dime inside and he put it into my mother’s hand.”

“Why did he do that?”

“The dime signified steadfast love. He buried the coin in his teens and promised himself that he would dig it out for his future wife in the twentieth year of their marriage,” explains Gilbert, looking me squarely in the eyes.

I draw a long breath and reach out for the coin.   He puts it gently into my hand. We have been married for twenty years ; today is our anniversary.  Our teenage daughters and friends are waiting for us at Yellowstone.  Our anniversary party will be held at the national park tonight.

“You were touched by what you saw,” I murmur, “and you decided to do the same thing.”

He nods and says, “I put the dime into the box and told my parents that I would dig it out in the twentieth year of my marriage.”

“It’s amazing that the carriage remains where it is after so many years,” I say.

“It’s God’s will,” Gilbert says. “He planned all this for you and me.”

I am so touched that my eyes brim with tears.  I look up at him and say, “Gil, what a beautiful gift it is.  I will treasure it forever.”

Gilbert opens his arms and hugs me.  We kiss each other passionately under the bright sun.  It is the happiest moment of our lives.

We resume our journey to Yellowstone at two-thirty and arrive there at five. Our anniversary party starts at seven and it is splendid.  We feel so blessed to have so many people celebrate it with us.

The coin has become our family heirloom. It bears testament to our steadfast love.