Faith Works 12-14-19

Faith Works 12-14-19

Jeff Gill

 

The Package – a story

___

 

[This is a piece of fiction, second of four parts, for the Christmas season]

 

It had been a wrapped package on his doorstep, and now Jerry was holding a carefully taped up box, brown cardboard with mailing labels all around, yet each of them carefully marked through with solid dark horizontal lines.

 

The marker cross-outs were enough to make clear the labels weren't to be used, but not scribbled sufficiently to obscure the name and address for where it had gone. Clearly, this was a re-used box. Jerry thought if he went to this address, he might get a clue as to why he'd gotten a brightly wrapped but unlabeled box on his front porch.

 

He'd hesitated even to open the wrapping paper, but as a widower with grown children out of town, he couldn't figure out why he'd have gotten a present delivered like this, and feared that it simply had been mis-delivered the night before, not intended for him.

 

So Jerry, after peeling away the wrapping paper, found a well-sealed box already having been used, and he was hesitant to cut the packing tape and find out what was inside. Whatever it was, it wasn't ticking or fragile. Something loose but relatively filling the space inside, thunking back and forth as he carried the box to the car.

 

The address of the last recipient, now crossed out, was not too far across town, and he was there in minutes. Awkwardly tucking the taped box under his arm, Jerry walked up the sidewalk to the small, neat house and rang the bell. After a longish delay, but noise enough inside to keep him standing there, the door swung open.

 

An older woman in a wheelchair had pulled the door around with clearly a practiced air; she was used to her particular position, and seemed quite comfortable in greeting him. "Yes, can I help you?" she smiled.

 

Jerry explained the predicament that had led him to her door, and with a quick once-over glance she pulled the door on around, swiveled back, and asked him to come in through the screen door. Once inside and the doors both shut, she pointed to a chair and he sat down, finishing his story, and setting the box on a low table between them.

 

"Yes, I remember getting that package, from my daughter in Oklahoma. But it was just some cookies and fudge and a few magazines she knew I'd like. I tossed the box out with the trash." She shrugged with that telling, and then looked again at the box, and back at Jerry. "I guess you'll just have to open it up. I can't imagine any other solution to your little mystery, but you've gotten my curiosity going."

He smiled, reached into his pocket, got out the penknife again, and very deliberately slit open the tape across the top, and putting the implement away, flipped open the flaps.

 

Inside was a pair of boots. They were not new, but clean and perhaps even with a bit of polish or just a recent leather treatment on them. The laces were new, and tied into neat bows. Jerry picked the boots up out of the box, and there was nothing inside at all otherwise, just a tag tied to the leather loop on the heel of one of the pair. "Kretschmer Shoe Shop," he read.

 

"I know where that is, on the other side of town. My late husband used to get his work boots repaired there; I didn't know if they were still open." She reached out and turned the tag. "But the name and address are removed, there's just a number and the shop address here."

 

They both sat and looked at the unremarkable boots together for a moment. Then Jerry said "well, I guess I'm going to the shoe shop. Sorry to trouble you, and Merry Christmas. I appreciate your being willing to talk to me."

 

"It's certainly an interesting story, and I hope you can tell me someday how it ends; there has to be a reason, doesn't there?" Jerry agreed, and putting the boots back in the box, got up out of his chair and began to move towards the door. He noticed a pair of larger boxes just beside the door on the inside, and commented on them.

 

"Oh, those are coats from my church," she said, "I had someone who was going to take to the Salvation Army, but that family had a funeral come up out of town. I'm trying to find someone else to get them there."

 

Jerry immediately felt the relief of being able to provide a kindness in return to one already received, and said "Oh, that's right on the way to the shoe shop; I'd be happy to take them."

 

[to be continued]

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think is up with the boots at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.