Chapter 5.5 The Safe

But the story of the safe reminds me of something that happened to my father and I while we were out messing around.


`Before I got to the age that I was more of a nuisance than fun to be around, my dad and I use to go exploring in the woods surrounding our home. My great grandfather use to tell us all sorts of tales about things in the woods and hidden treasure and my dad and I would just get our coats and boots on and head out into the woods to see what we could find. One time my father and I were walking down through the area just east of our land. This area had a huge creek that eventually fed into Rend Lake. This creek had all sorts of tales surrounding it from a snake island that a bunch of snakes lived on to a ghostly girl that protected an old iron bridge further up the creek, but Dad and I never encounter anything weird until one fateful afternoon.

We had been messing around the area looking for some mushrooms when we came to the bridge. At this time, the bridge was an ancient wooden bridge that was basically made of some old wooden planks spread out across some iron beams. Two wooden planks ran down the middle of the bridge, they were designed for the wheels of vehicles to drive on since there were holes of all kinds throughout the ancient structure itself. We use to love going down to this bridge and imagine a great troll lived under there or we would stand on the side of it, hang over and throw stones and rocks of all shapes and sizes into the water below watching the splash and rippled effects. Well, Dad and I had went to the bridge that day to just look around and pick up my mother some Blue Bell flowers. These flowers are in extreme abundance in this area and they were bright blue and actually looked like bells hanging from the top of the plant. My mother and grandmother use to love these things and whenever anyone was in that area and they were in bloom, they would pick as many as they possibly could. We had a goal of picking some for both my grandmother and mother that day, but we never really got the opportunity to do so.

I was standing on the edge of the bridge looking down into the creek below. It had been an extremely dry Spring that year and the creek was on the verge of drying up almost completely. The once filled waters and edges of the creek had been dissolved from the rays of sunshine and been replaced by formations of sand bars. It was while looking at these newly formed structures and thinking about what treasures may lie within them that were normally covered in water that I saw the object of question. There down below me sticking half out of the deepest portion of the creek appeared the edge of some sort of metal object. I slung myself over the side of the railing a little more to remove myself from the blocked view caused by the railing of the bridge. Peering down closer I could make out some details. Details that I had been unable to make from the position that I had been in prior. I saw a knob, what appeared to be like a tumbler on my locker at school, some sort of lever next to it. I immediately had a thought of what the object could be.

It was a safe!

“Dad!” I screamed as loudly as I could. “Dad get over here quick! I found something in the water in the creek!”

My Dad was a little ways up the road inspecting a small wooded section of the creek for some mushrooms. My grandfather, his father in law, use to farm the area and would come home every year with trash bags upon trash bags filled with mushrooms. He would never tell anyone where he had found the stuffed area, but often would say it was on Grandma Hartman’s land somewhere. He died before anyone ever got the secret from him and it drove my dad to the edges of sanity. He continued to search and search every square inch of my great grandmother’s land seeking the Holy Grail of mushroom patches, but never found it. To this day, no one in my family has ever found Grandpa Champ’s golden area. That is one mystery still plaguing our inner imaginations.

“What is it?” He called out as he took a few steps towards me ready to get away from his hide and seek project involving the legendary mushroom patch.

I did not want to answer him because I knew he would not believe me if I did yell it out. “Just come over and look.” As a father myself, my daughter will yell at me all the time to come and look at something. Being new to the whole father thing, I would run over immediately expecting something out of the ordinary or really cool. Most of the time it was a let down, but it excited my daughter to no end. Now I have learned to ask what the item is before killing myself to get there. I guess I had done this to my father a few times by the way he was acting at that moment.

“This better be good,” he said as he stepped onto the bridge with his hands in his pockets. “I think I was finally closing in on that secret patch of you grandfathers.” I knew better than this, but I did not want to hurt his ego nor the moment that was transpiring.

“Oh, I think you will like it once you see what I am talking about,” I said as I moved back across the bridge and to the area that I had been standing before. I leaned back over the bridge like I was doing when I had made my discovery and then I motioned for my father to do the same. Before I pointed the item out to him, I took one quick glance to make sure it was still there. Yep, sure enough. A safe in my creek. Everything was normal. I took the opportunity to just point in its direction rather than make the announcement verbally. They always say actions speak louder than words and I thought a visual of the object for the first time would be more of an impact rather than just telling him. I pointed.

My dad turned his head and followed the direction of my finger down into the water below. I watched his face waiting for the change to come, from bothersome with the fact that I had taken him away from his mushroom quest, to extreme surprise with the fact that we may have just made a discovery that could change the course of our family’s life forever. I watched and waited. Then the change came.

It was not what I thought it would be. His eyebrows turned inward and he looked perplexed rather than extremely excited. I started to say something, but he spoke up first cutting me off.

“What in the hell is that?” He asked as he moved over the railing a little more and leaned in towards the water.

“It looks like a safe to me.” I said knowing that it sounded ridiculous, but the evidence was right in front of me. As far as I knew, my eyes had never lied to me. Not intentionally anyway.

“A safe?” he said. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he thought I was a complete idiot. Then, however, he made a liar out of me. “You know, I think you are right.” He pulled himself back on the bridge and moved across to the other side. “I can make out what looks like a latch opener and a tumbler.” His voice was changing a bit from puzzled now to interested and almost excited. He was making his way to the edge of the end of the bridge and to the embankment that went down next to the water. I followed along beside him not wanting to miss a moment of the action at hand.

“Do you think it really is one?” I asked. I already knew it was. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a safe and there was money inside. Lots of cold hard cash. I of course was a romantic, while my father on the other hand was more of a realist.

“I am not sure,” he said as he made his way down to the embankment and near the edge of the water. “I am not sure why a safe would have been dumped out here in our creek. Unless…” he paused for a moment and I could see he was deep in thought. “Unless it came down the creek during one of those floods earlier this spring. The water level was high enough and the current was strong enough to move a small car. I guess it could be possible.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked my excitement beginning to get the best of me.

My dad did not respond, he was watching his footing as he descended down to the edge of the water. When he got there, he looked back at the area of land behind him. It was as if he was looking for something. I was not sure what it was until I saw his hand drop into the waist high weeds behind him. His hand and arm were out of view for a short period of time and then they both resurfaced. Within his hand was what he was looking for. A long wooden stick.

“What are you doing?” I yelled from the bridge area. I too was beginning to make my way to the edge of the bank for a closer look. My father was really paying me no attention at this moment. His focus and all attention was on the safe looking object in the water below. It was viewing this intensity on his face and actions that I began to realize how true the situation may have been. Dad was always a serious no nonsense kind of guy. If there had been no chance of this thing being a safe at all, he would have easily dismissed the object and gone back to searching for the fabled mushroom patch of my grandfathers. He had,however, abandoned that which was important for him to seek out the object below. He had taken the time to look at it closer from the bridge area, had taken the time out to seek an object such as the stick to poke it with for more information, and had taken the time to move down close to the water, where he was now. These signs were pretty good evidence that he was starting to feel the object could be what it looked like after all.

“Come over here Jeremy,” he called to me. I did not waste any time and headed down the bank of the creek and stood behind my father awaiting further instructions.

“Yes.” I said trying to disguise the eagerness in my voice. I did not want to sound too excited about what was going on.

“I am going to lean out over the water and see if I can tap the edge of the thing. Try to get a feel for what it could be made of. I want you to hold my arm here so that way I do not fall into the water. You have to anchor me. Can you do that?”

I nodded to my father. “Yes. I sure can.”

“Okay. Here we go. Now whatever you do, do not let go. I have already taken one shower today after I got up this morning. I do not think I need a bath as well.” I smiled. I knew deep down inside that he was joking but I also knew that if I failed him and let go at the wrong time and he did fall into the water and got wet, I would definitely be the one paying for the mistake.

My dad reached out with his arm and I took hold. I leaned back forcing all of my weight on the backs of my legs. I felt sort of awkward holding my dad’s hand, something that I had not done since I was little. His hands were rough and calloused from years of hard work and labor. Besides being a policeman for years, my father had also worked several different types of odd jobs as well. He had hauled trash and things for pay, had worked on the railroad, and had even worked at a former fast food restaurant Burger Chef. I held onto that hand and arm as hard as I could, but kept my eyes focused on my dad as he extended his arm containing the other stick as he stretched out across the water.

He stretched and stretched. For a moment I thought there was going to be no way he would be able to reach the item within the water. He pulled his body back to the bank and readjusted himself. I held tighter and he turned to me and nodded his approval. He then stretched his body back out over the creek. I pulled back with all of my might. For a moment I thought I was slipping in the mud. Visions of both my father and myself flying out into the cold creek water filled my head. I held stronger and harder. I was not going to let that happen. Not today.

He extended, further this time and I watched as the stick sway in the wind. He began to tap the stick across the water toward the object. Closer. Closer. Closer. Then when I thought he would not be able to get close enough, the stick made contact. A thud came first as the stick barely touched the side. My father brought the stick up as high as he could then dropped it upon the object below him. A thud echoed across the creek area. My father turned to me with a smile on his face.

“That sounded like metal!” He said. I nodded. I really did not get a good position on the sound itself so I was not sure what it sounded like. I saw my dad bring the stick back for another strike. I decided to pay closer attention this time.

Thud.

Indeed! I then agreed with my father’s take on the situation. It did sound like metal. A metal that was somewhat hollow sounding. Whatever the object was, it was hollow. Maybe that meant there was something inside it after all. Maybe that meant it was a safe after all! My dad used his weight and my anchored body to pull himself away from the creek and back to the bank. He set the stick down and looked at me. I could tell he was excited by our find and discovery.

“So what now?” I asked him.

“Here,” he pushed me back away as he headed up the bank of the creek into the weeds. He began to scan the ground as if he was seeking out something of great importance. I saw the serious focus on his face so I knew it was not a good idea to interrupt him in his search. He suddenly stopped and bent down into the weeded area. Apparently he had discovered what he was looking for. He stood up and I saw what he had. A larger stick, or should I say log, was sitting in the palm of his hand. A look of triumph was upon his face as he carried the log to where I was and moved himself down to the edge of the creek. I followed behind him.

“Do you need me to hold onto you again?” I asked just wanting to make sure I was playing my role properly at the right time. He shook his head in response.

“No,” he said as he moved to the edge of the creek. “I am not staying on the side of the creek this time. I have to get closer. Close enough to tell if that thing is what we think it is.”

“How are you going to do that?” I asked.

My dad turned to me, smiled, and then pointed to a small log that was sitting in the middle of the creek. It was a few feet out from the bank of the creek itself and it extended out just beyond the area where our beloved safe was stationed. “I am going to walk across that thing.”

“What?” I said not realizing I had said it out loud before it was too late and audible. “You are crazy! You are going to fall in that creek.”

Again my dad shook his head no. He had a plan, he always had a plan of some kind in that head of his. It did not work all of the time, but at least he was prepared for either victory or defeat. He left nothing to chance.

“I have it all planned out,” he said.

See. What did I tell you?

He moved the big log/stick object into the air and waved it a bit. “I am going to use this log to help balance myself across the water. When I get out far enough, I should be able to bend down and actually touch that thing. That is the only way we are going to be able to tell for sure or not. I have to actually see what it feels like in order to guess what it is made of.”

I nodded. Seemed like a sensible plan…for a teenager. Not really something for a fourty plus year old man who had passed his athletic prime a long time ago and was slightly over weight. I did not make the reasonings behind my objects vocal and I just nodded my head again. “Sounds good.”

My dad smiled. I watched as he took the large wooden object and placed it out as far away from his body into the swirling creek water as he could. He then tested it to see if the item would hold his body weight. It held. After he was satisfied with the result, dad pushed off from the edge of the bank like some awkward pole vaulter and swung himself toward the floating log. I wanted to close my eyes or at least cover them. This was my dad, my hero growing up during childhood. I did not want to see him fall and make a fool of himself here. I was not sure that if I really saw such an event taking place if I would ever recover from such a sight. I would see the incident replay itself over and over in my mind forever. But I watched, because deep down inside, even though I wanted him to make it safely, part of me wanted him to fall in too. Why? Because it would be funnier than hell, that is why.

But my dad survived. He landed upon the log a little shakey, but he did land where he was wanting to be. He threw his weight forward upon the stick and centered his body weight and location. He looked a little odd, slightly uncomfortable. Here he was a six foot one inch man bending over completely on a log in the middle of a creek with a large wooden log for support. I knew that if anyone would drive by on the bridge at that moment that he would get honked at, laughed at, and would never be able to live it down. I probably would have had to of run off and hide in the bushes while the fiasco took place. But it did not happen so I will continue with what did happen.

I watched as my dad continued to shimmy across the log towards the area of the supposed safe. He reminded me of my great grandfather who had been stricken with Polio at a young age and had to walk hunched over with the use of a cane. My father looked like this as he would move the stick over a little, pause to check for his balance, then move his body to this new location. Then move the stick over again, pause to check for his balance, then move his body to this new location. He even looked as if he had pain on his face, or maybe it was just concentration. Anyway, the whole distance was only about six to seven feet, but the process itself made it seem that it was over a mile away. I could even see sweat beads forming on my father’s brow.

Then he was there, exactly where he wanted to be. I watched as he reached out for the object in the water knowing that this was the moment of truth. Did I really want to know if it was what I thought it was? Would my life be any more complete if it truly was a safe or just a cardboard box that looked like a safe? I knew not the answer to these questions…wait a minute. Who am I kidding here. Of course I needed to know. And would my life be any more complete? Hell yeah it would! Especially if there was treasure in that there safe!

My dad leaned toward the safe. I leaned toward the water. My dad leaned. I leaned. He stuck the piece of wood underneath the object and gave it a shove. It budged a bit, but not a lot. Then he stuck the stick deeper into the mud sand mixture that was the bottom of the creek. He gave the stick another shove. I watched as my dad strained and nothing. Then, as if by magic, the safe began to move from its position within the creek. It was a moment that if it had happened within a movie, all sorts of triumphant 1980’s music would be going off in the background. Though there was no music going off, I was yelling with excitement. I thought it would be good for my dad to motivate him, plus I was generally excited by the situation. This was awesome. And just like anything else that seems to be going the right way in my life, the air was let out of my balloon.

My dad decided that his struggle with the object had gone on long enough. He decided it was now or never and he needed to give the item one last push. I could tell that he was growing weary and getting tired. There was really nothing that I could do but yell out of support. I continued to do that. Then I watched as my dad lowered his body down and seemed to prep himself for one last big struggle. I held my breath as he held his breath. We both knew deep down inside that this moment was either going to pay off huge or we would both suffer the consequences, my father getting the worst of it.

I watched. I still remember the moment just like it was yesterday and even though everything happened in real time, I remember it as if it was in slow motion. I saw my dad stick the wood into the mud, I watched his eyes bulge as the weight of the safe came free of the water, and I saw the safe rise into the air as it totally broke the surface of the liquid and its confined area. That’s when I saw the object for the first time as it was meant to be seen. Black metal front. A tumbler. A rod to open the thing itself. Four metallic pegs descending from its bottom. It was what we thought it was. It definitely was a safe! I screamed out in triumph as I watched my dad’s face do the same. Then it happened.

I am not sure exactly how it happened, whether or not my father lost his footing or just simply the weight of the object itself was just too much for him to handle, but it does not really matter. It happened. First the stick underneath the safe gave way and went plunging into the water. There was a sickening cracking noise as the wood broke in half and descended into the murkey abyss. The safe was soon to follow as all of the revealed parts followed the wooden structure into the creek as well. Then my father. He flung and slung his arms around wildly trying to brace his position and prevent himself from falling into the water. He failed miserably. His body tipped backwards upon the wooden structure within the water and he plummeted into the water backwards.

Growing up, my dad always would take us swimming in the summer. His schedule as a cop was not always the best, but it did give us some freedom and luxury when spending some time at home when we were out of school. My mom worked in a doctor’s office and worked every day of the week from usually eight in the morning until five at night so she was not around much during the summer days. My father was not unless he was working midnights, then he was at home from around seven in the morning until seven at night. During this time period a normal person would try and sleep as much as possible, and do not get me wrong, my dad did sleep some of the time. But he did take some time out of his sleeping schedule to spend with us kids. He usually loved to take us swimming when it was warm out and his favorite way to enter any type of pool or body of water was doing the old classic Nestea Plunge. He would simply fall backwards with his arms out just like the actors, actresses, or models would do on the commercials on the television sets at home. We kids used to love watching him do this and would be yelling at him well ahead of the time at the pool and such wanting to make sure that he was going to do it for us. To this day I know that he was not the reason for doing it, he probably hated how doing it caused his nose to be filled with chlorine infested waters, because I have copied his plunge many years later. But he did it because he loved us kids. This time however, at the creek it looked like the old Nestea Plunge, but it lacked the feeling. He was not doing it for my benefit at all, he was doing it because he screwed up!

My dad erupted from the water as he was gasping for air. Though it was the spring time, the water was still a little cold as the nights were still chilly in the area. I could tell then was not the time to make some sort of classic joke about the position he was in. I could tell that he was not very happy at that moment so I pretty much bit my tongue. He made his way toward the edge of the bank where I was standing. I backed away a bit to give him some room. My father was the type of individual who was extremely loving, but you really did not want to get on his bad side. Now it seemed was pretty sure a bad side moment. I stared back at the safe which had now sunk back into the sand and mud mixture. It looked as if it was overcome by a sad feeling. It had been discovered and thought it was about to bet set free, only to be sent back into its imprisonment moments later.

“What about the safe?” I asked without even thinking about it. My father looked at me with crazy eyes and a glare that could freeze the Sun.

“What about the safe?” he snapped. Okay, I was right. Now was not a very good time to bring up my concerns for the inantimate object in the water behind him. “I am a little wet here.”

“I know dad, but there might be something important in there!”

“I need to get home and get my clothes changed,” he responded. I could tell he was doing his best to fight of the shivers that were beginning to overcome him. “After I get changed and warmed back up then we will see how we are going to handle this safe situation.”

“But what if something happens to it?” I argued. “What if it floats back down river or someone comes by, sees it, and decides they should take it home. What then?”

My dad looked straight at me. I could tell he was contemplating my words and my argument, after all, they both held water to a certain extent. I knew that at that moment he knew I was correct. But I also knew that he was not going to let me be right. Not if it made him look wrong in the process.

“That safe is not going anywhere,” he said as he started back up the bank and began to head for the bridge itself to head home. “Trust me on that one.’

“But…” I started, but he put my comments to a stop.

“Jeremy, there is not telling how long that thing has been buried down there in that creek. Judging by how heavy it was and how water logged it was it has been there awhile. And no one is going to drive by and see it and get it out of the creek either. There is no telling how many times we have looked right at it before you noticed it today. It took you leaning over that there rail before you even saw the damn thing. Also, the river is not going to take it down stream anytime soon. It is supposed to be dry over the next couple of days. That will help us out I think and make it easier for us when we do decide to come back down and get the thing out for good. Now come on and walk back home with me. I am getting cold.”

I turned around to look back into the water. The safe seemed to call out to me from its watery grave. I felt my father’s hand upon my shoulder. I turned to look into his eyes.

“Forget about it,” he said and I could tell that he knew how much the whole thing had meant to me. “Let’s go home, let me get cleaned up and then we will see about coming back down here. Okay?”

I had to agree with him. After all, he was standing there dripping wet in the cold breeze. I knew he meant well and after all, he really did not even have to go out and try to see if the thing was a safe after all. He chose to anyway and that made me feel good, about myself and about my dad in general. We both headed back to the house, my dad thinking about what he was going to put on in place of his wet clothes, and me thinking about the safe we were leaving in the water. More importantly, what exactly we were leaving in the safe.

The sad thing is, my dad did get home and changed his clothes. By that time my mother had made it home and wanted to have supper. After that was over, it was too dark to go back down to the creek so we had to let it go for another day. The day after, I woke up and jumped up to go get my father and take him down to the creek. When I got up I heard a noise coming from outside. I knew immediately what the sound was. Rain. It was not only dampening the area of land outside my homestead, but dampening my heart as well. It rained for almost two days straight and by the time it stopped, my father and I were both rearing to get back down to the creek and the safe.

By the time we got there though, the creek was back up and the safe was once again completely under water. My dad, as patient as ever, told me to be patient, the water would recede and the safe would become visible again. He was right about one thing, the water did recede, but the safe was not there. Where it went, we will never know. Did someone come and find it before us? Did it flush down river with the rushing flood water? All I know is that that safe still captures a part of my imagination somewhere. I still find my imagination running wild thinking about what was housed in the metal box. I guess I will never know for sure.