M. DAVID LUTZ

CASH AND CARRY

The old pick-up truck bounced and swayed down a long, seldom traveled back road of the little rural township, violently rocking George Jenson all over the cab though he was unaware. Lost deep in thought about the financial problems with his business, he wasn’t paying any attention to his wife.

“George…George…GEORGE!”

“Sorry, dear…I was just trying to sort some things out in my head.”

“It ain’t going to do any good…if we end up in the ditch…dead.”

Martha wouldn’t be talking like that to me if she wasn’t worried about her medical appointment today. “Okay, okay, I’ll keep my eyes on the road. It’s just that ever since the big hardware store moved into town, our business has been going down. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hang on.”

“I know things are bad, honey, but we’ve been through rough times before, and we’ve always found a way.”

“Yeah and ‘…God helps those that help themselves,’ but for the life of me, I don’t know how we’re supposed to do that.”

“Oh, really. You have to be the most pessimistic man I know.” The rest of the trip to the clinic was made in silence.

“Martha, while you’re in with the doctor, I’m going to go over and look around at the mall. You can find me—”

“In the hardware department…yes, I know.” Martha said dryly.

George blindly walked past all the shops that held no interest to him until he came to the Home Improvement section and dove in, examining each item as if he were at the Smithsonian Museum.

“Hey there, old man,” Bill called out from the other aisle. “I haven’t seen you in a long while. What brings you way over to the big city?”

“Had to bring Martha in for her doctor’s appointment.” George didn’t want to talk about his troubles, but Bill was not only a good friend, he was the store manager. He had always treated George right by giving him generous discounts whenever he came in.

“Hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“Thanks.”

“You looking for anything special today?”

“Naw, with the business as slow as it is, it don’t make sense buying more inventory I may never be able to sell anyway.”

“Don’t be such a gloomy Gus. Things are gonna pick up; just have faith. Don’t mean to rush off, but I’ve got to attend a meeting. Let’s get together next week. I have an opening I want to discuss with you…alright?”

Happy to find himself alone again, George was content looking at tools and trying to forget his problems.

“There you are…just where I expected you’d be…”

“Hi, Dear…you done with your appointment already? She nodded, not saying anything. “Are you ready to go, or are you planning on spending the afternoon looking at all the fancy dresses in the ladies’ department?” He mocked, hoping to get a rise out of her, even though he made sure and smiled so she’d know he was just kidding. It was clear to see she wasn’t in the mood. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “What did the doctor say?”

She looked down. “Come on, we best be getting back. We got a long ride ahead…we can talk on the way.”

They had been rambling down the highway for a long time…Martha still had not said anything. George began to fear the worst, especially since she didn’t even make him stop for lunch at her favorite dinette, which she always insisted they did whenever they came to town. He thought to himself: I ain’t that crazy young fool anymore that pursued her until somehow I convinced her to marry me. Gosh, even after thirty years, I love her more than ever. I just hope she knows how much I care. Even if I sometimes fail to show it.

“I’m going to need an operation, [deep breath]. Doc said I won’t be able to put it off much longer…or…well…you know…”

George felt the blood draining from his head. He wasn’t ready to face living without Martha. He turned off the highway onto a dusty, bumpy road since it was the shortest way home. He was in such a fog he never saw the cow in the road.

“GEORGE, LOOK OUT.” Pulling the wheel sharply to the right, skidding sideways, they almost plunged into the ditch. He got out of the truck sweating and shaking, having to walk about until his heart stopped racing. He only took a few steps when he noticed a green trash bag almost completely covered with road dust. He was already in a foul mood, and the thought of folks coming through his community tossing trash out of their car windows did not help at all. On top of everything that had happened this morning…this really irritated him. In disgust, he picked up the plastic bag and threw it into the back of his pick-up truck, figuring he would dispose of it properly when he returned to his house.

George got around to doing some chores the next morning and remembered the bag of trash he’d tossed into the tool shed, intending to throw it away. Curiously, it was very heavy. He had not planned to open it, not wanting to be subjected to somebody’s smelly garbage, but a pang of consciousness compelled him to ‘Remember to Recycle.’ Opening the bag and seeing the contents made him clutch his chest and gasped for breath. He tried to call out for Martha, but he did not have the strength. His hands were trembling terribly and feeling so weak that he had to plop down on a bag of grain seed.

When he managed to stop shaking and was able to, he hauled himself into his truck and drove past the garden where Martha was tending her tomato plants. “I got to run some errands. I’ll be back later.” He didn’t even wait for a reply. He needed to find a place to be alone without prying eyes.

Turning off into the stand of trees at the end of his property, George dropped the tailgate, and after looking carefully to make sure no one was around, he dumped the contents of the trash bag onto the truck bed. The stacks of money, looking like green bricks, were more money than he’d ever see in two lifetimes. Rubber bands held each bundle together. He started trembling again when he counted more than five hundred thousand dollars, which wasn’t even half of what was there. It’s hard to be exact, but I figured there’s got to be more than a million dollars here in twenties, fifties, and hundreds. He looked thoroughly but couldn’t find even the smallest clue as to whom this money could have belonged to or how it got to be by the side of the road.

George surmised It is a cinch this money was not thrown away, but for some reason, it was ditched…literally…tossed into a ditch, undoubtedly, to be retrieved later…but by whom—that is the million-dollar question. George laughed at his little pun. Further speculating, The money could not be from a legitimate source but had to come from a robbery, money laundering, drugs, or some other illegal activity. It is a given that whoever was involved had to be an unsavory character. Were they being chased or followed and tossed the sack before they got caught? What if something happened to them, and they were never coming back? That thought gave George pause, considering all the possibilities. Never have cared much for mysteries, that’s Martha’s thing. MARTHA, oh man…I’ve been here for hours. How am I going to explain this to her? I’ve never kept any secrets from her before…didn’t need to…but this is different.

“Where have you been, Mister? Supper has been ready for over an hour.”

George pulled his chair up to the table…the aroma of Martha’s homemade bread always lifted his spirits. After his second helping of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, he felt more like talking. He began nonchalantly, “Dear, have you ever thought about what you’d do if you had a lot of money?”

“Now, Honey, just because times are tough, and we’ve got to come up with the money for my surgery…I don’t see any point in wasting our time on some foolish fantasies.”

“Aren’t you always saying you want me to talk to you more—”

“Yes, but—”

“So humor me. What would you do if you had a LOT of money?”

“Oh…that’s different, I suppose.” Martha’s face lit up, “If I had a lot of money…wait…that would depend on how much money now, wouldn’t it?” She was grinning.

“How about a million dollars…is that rich enough for ya?” George was really enjoying this.

“Oh my, that’s more money than I’d know what to do with…” George shot her a look that told her to keep going. “You’re going to think I’m being silly, but every time we go to town, I find myself standing in front of the window of Milton’s Department Store looking at those fancy high fashion dresses, you know, the kind you’d wear if you were going to a country club or such?”

“Of course, I know…I’m the one who has to wander around for hours while you’re doing it.” They both laughed.

“Yes, but there is more. I’ve never told you, but why I take so long is because I always find myself imagining you and me dancing and having cocktails while listening to an orchestra.”

“Where are we when we’re doing this?” He was surprised…he had no idea she had such ideas.”

“After our dinner, it is so late, instead of going home, we go to one of those high-class hotels, where they carry our bags in for us. Our room is so beautiful with candles, and there are candies on the pillow.” Martha blushed, “The bathtub is big enough for the both of us…like I’ve seen on TV.”

As she was talking, George was filled with remorse, having never taken the time or even tried to set aside any money to do something like that. Especially now that he knew how much that would mean to her. I grew up being taught to be so practical with money—it never occurred to me to do anything like that. When he focused his attention back on her, she was still talking.

“…Besides the medical bills, I suppose we could put the rest aside for our retirement. What do you think about that? Did that answer your question?”

“Martha, come on out to the shed with me. I want to show you something. He escorted her out the back door and walked her to the tool shed. Pulling back the tarp next to the lawnmower, George stooped over the old trash bag, reached in, and then stood up, holding packs of money in both hands…grinning from ear to ear. Martha’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head as she stood there frozen for what seemed like forever. “I swear, woman, this must be the first time since we got married you’ve had nothing to say”

Clearly enjoying the moment, George began to dance a jig around the little shed, bumping and knocking stuff all over the place.

When Martha could speak, she exclaimed, “Where on earth did all this money come from?”

“Remember when we stopped on the road…I thought someone had pitched their trash into the ditch. I brought it back to dispose of it.”

“George, put it away; I’m going to put on some tea. I need to think about this, and my knees are shaking…I’ve got to sit down!”

While he preferred coffee, at the moment, that didn’t matter as he squinted with each sip. “I counted it this afternoon. There is over a million dollars there.”

“How long do you figure the bag has been on the side of the road?”

“I don’t think it could have been there for years, but being on a back road, it could have been there for some months, possibly.”

“If it belonged to one of our neighbors,” Martha questioned, “wouldn’t we have heard something by now?” She loved a good mystery and was visibly jumping into this one with both feet.

“If someone around here had been saving that kind of money under their mattress, they would have to have started before the civil war; besides, the bills aren’t that old.”

“Drug money!” Martha blurted out, looking alarmed, “or money stolen from a bank by gangsters.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” George frowned, “The bills aren’t new, and there are no bank bands on the stacks of cash, which kinda means it wasn’t stolen from a bank, and if it were stolen, you’d think we’d have heard something.”

“Not if it were stolen on the other side of the country and the crooks were passing through.”

“Then how did it get on the side of the road?”

George had not seen her this excited about anything for a long time…even more than her TV mysteries. No doubt, it was taking her mind off her needed surgery. That was something to be grateful for.

“I know! They were running from the cops and threw it out, so if they were caught, they wouldn’t have any evidence on them?”

“If that were true, wouldn’t you suppose the cops would have thoroughly searched the area?”

“Maybe,” Martha grinned, unable to hide the sheer enjoyment of the conversation.

“If they were robbers, wouldn’t you suppose they would have returned for the money as soon as they could? Can you explain that …Miss Sherlock Holmes?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they all got arrested or something and are in jail, serving twenty years to life.”

Even though he was getting tired, especially after all the news and excitement, he would not quit until his wife was ready. “If that was true, Mrs. Mystery Solver, don’t you think they would have arranged for someone to come get the money instead of hoping it would still be there twenty years later?”

“Hmm,” She was so cute when she scrunched her face while thinking. “There was a big shootout, and fortunately for us…they all ended up dead.” Martha slapped the table, giggling at her own cleverness.

“Woman, you’ve got to stop watching so much TV!” She still knew how to make her husband laugh out loud when she wanted to. She kept on long into the night, offering one theory after another in favor of keeping and spending the money until she became exhausted and fell asleep right there on the couch.

He could have carried her to bed since, due to her illness, she did not weigh that much anymore, but he didn’t want to wake her. He tenderly covered her with a blanket, taking a long look at the face of the woman who had stood by him through thick and thin, never complaining, never making any demands. She had always loved him just as he was. He softly chuckled: Between the two of us, I sure have gotten the best of the bargain. One thing is for certain: I’d do anything I could for this woman. He turned off the lights and went to bed—with a…million…thoughts…running through his head. [pun intended]

George was fixing breakfast since he had not been able to sleep. Martha appeared in the doorway, still wearing her clothes from the night before. “I was trying to decide whether to wake you or just let you sleep.”

“It’s hard to sleep with the smell of coffee and bacon in the air,” she yawned and stretched. “What’s gotten into you, Mister…you haven’t made breakfast in years.”

[Deep breath] “We can’t keep the money.” He blurted out resignedly.

“But George—”

“My mind is made up; I’m going to turn it over to the police.”

“Maybe no one will claim it.” Her face brightened, “Maybe there is a reward for turning it in.” She was still going on and on even as he went out the door to the shed to get the trash bag with the money.

 As he started down the road, the wheels in his mind were turning faster than those on his truck. What if I turned this money in and the police started asking me a bunch of questions? What if the crooks that lost it came after me for turning it in? What if no one did claim it and they gave it to me…then the gangsters or, even worse, everyone I knew in town would show up looking for a handout? That thought made George slam on the brakes, causing the truck to skid off the road. Call it coincidence or fate, but he was in the exact spot where he found the trash bag in the first place. He slid out of the truck, paced back and forth a few times, then proceeded to put the bag back on the side of the road, even kicking some dust back on it, just the way he had found it. Quickly, he climbed back into the pick-up and sped off.

Martha had dinner ready, waiting for when he got home. “What happened at the police station?” She asked sadly, “How did it go?”

“Didn’t make it to the police station,” George mumbled as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink, not wanting to turn around and face her.

“That’s wonderful! Now we can do all the things we talked about!”

He sat down quickly and started eating. Between bites, he said, “I put the money back…right where I found it…on the side of the road.” George couldn’t help thinking, This is the second time I’ve seen this woman speechless, but I’d best not be making any jokes about that right now.

“Pass me the gravy…please,” Martha spoke sullenly, not looking directly at him.

Dinner passed in silence. He excused himself to read his paper in the living room like he always did while Martha washed the dishes. Eventually, she came in and sat down beside him. “I’m not mad,” Martha sighed, “I know it was best, but now I don’t know how we’re going to manage—”

“We’ll get by…we always do, you’ll see. I think Bill is going to offer me a position. I can sell our business, and with our savings, we’ll be okay.”

Martha patted his knee, “I suppose so.” He heard her sigh again.

“What is it?” He saw a tiny tear roll down her cheek.

“Oh, never mind…”

“Really…what is it?”

“Now, we might never get the chance to have that night on the town, with the dancing and dinner, and me wearing a fancy dress and sleeping with you in a big hotel bed.”

“You really wished you had all those fancy things?”

“No, George. She sounded slightly exasperated. “That’s not the point. It was the idea of you and me going on a sort of honeymoon that we never got to have in the first place. You know…um…[sniff] before it’s too late—”

George reached around the side of the couch and handed her a large white box with a red ribbon and bow. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Martha squealed with glee.

“Open it and see.”

Inside the box was the gorgeous black satin evening dress, the same as the one in the window of Milton’s Department Store.

“And look here—we got reservations for a whole week at one of those luxurious hotels on the beach; we even have to take a plane to get there.”

George studied Martha as she sat there with her face once again all scrunched up in thought. At least now I know how to render this woman speechless… trouble is, it takes a whole lot of money. He laughed.

She still couldn’t speak, but her pleading look told George she was asking, ‘How can we afford this?’

“I told you I put the money back, and I did, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep enough for the surgery…and well…enough to make…one of your dreams come true.”

Martha threw her arms around George, holding him close…making him realize he was still…a very rich man after all.

M. DAVID LUTZ    ©    2024