Two Books. One Story.

The morning began a little differently than other mornings. Lillian, who was usually an early riser, was moving slowly fighting a seemingly unending battle with the alarm clock. She had spent the majority of the night before pouring over countless letters bearing red words stamped on the front. At the bottom of this mountain of misery, Lillian had discovered an eviction notice. Being fairly new to the area and struggling from month to month to make ends meet, she felt hopeless and was looking at the gut-wrenching option of being forced to return to her hometown. Her hometown was narrow-minded and where she had ended a horrible relationship and lost her mother unexpectedly, which was really what prompted her to make her move to the big city. She hit snooze one last time and threw back the covers. Left leg off the bed. Right leg off the bed. She shuffled to the bathroom and slowly looked in the mirror. Her eyes; red and swollen. Her mouth; dry and chapped. Her hair; tangled and messy. She took a deep breath, started the shower, and hoped for a miracle.

Although she was running late this morning she still knew that coffee was necessary so she stopped by the café she frequented almost every morning. She rushed in and quickly found a place in line. As she approached the counter to order, and to add more frustration to an already draining morning, she realized she had changed purses - her wallet was not in her bag. She frantically began to scavenge for lone bills or loose change. She hurriedly pulled random items out of her purse and placed them on the counter. People were beginning to complain about her holding up progress. Suddenly, she heard a voice say, “I'll take care of it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see a cherub-faced older man smiling at her. Lillian, embarrassed, said, “Thank you so much.” He responded, “These things happen to us all from time to time, just pay it forward. I did, however, notice your notebook. It is just like mine. My little black book”. He held up a thin black notebook. She smiled and said, “What a coincidence.” The older man retorted, with a laugh, “I am not sure I believe in coincidences but I do know it could be easy to get these books confused”. The comment was strange but her mind was so preoccupied, she dismissed her thoughts. The pair made small talk while waiting for their names to be called when the barista said loudly, “Excuse me, our espresso machine just stopped working, please be patient while we brew a fresh pot” Lillian was already running late so she, feeling even more defeated, went and found a table to wait for her order and placed all of the items, removed from her purse, on the table.

As soon as she sat down the older man approached and asked if he could share the table. It felt awkward but how do you deny someone who just saved you in the coffee line? Plus, something about this man seemed so familiar. There was something about the colors of his eyes and the way he smiled. He was so, almost, recognizable but she simply couldn’t place from where she would know him. She thought maybe she had seen him around the café. He seemed completely comfortable around her. He addressed her again. Realizing she hadn’t responded gave him a nod and he sat down. He placed his planner, the little black book, on the table near hers. Again, the pair made small talk while Lillian organized her bag and replaced everything in her purse and the stranger scribbled things down in his little black notebook. Orders were called. Farewells were shared. Lillian went on her way.

As she sat down at her desk, she reached in her bag to grab her notebook. She opened the cover and found a note. It read, “I have yours. You have mine. Let’s see what you do with what you’ve found.” She began to panic. As a counselor, Lillian kept detailed notes of her clients’ sessions. No names were listed but the details were, well, extremely detailed and meant only for her eyes. Her heart dropped. She began to frantically search the notebook for its owner’s identification. Nothing. The majority of the pages were blank but as she began to flip through the book she noticed a paper clip at the top of one of the pages. She turned to the page. Nestled in a page designated to the day’s date she found a check for $20,000 for Lillian Culpepper. “Is this a dream?”, she wondered. “Could this be a sick joke?”, she thought. She removed the check to inspect it further and found a note, “This money is for you and has always been yours. Read the passage for tomorrow’s date. Fulfill the request in its entirety and the money is yours.”

Her heart was racing. Her hands were sweating. Her mind was reeling. However, with curiosity, she turned to tomorrow’s date and was silenced by what she read. “Tomorrow, at noon, get into your car and head west on Barnett Street. When you arrive at Building 5301A, park your car and find the bench under the Sycamore tree. Underneath the bench you will find an envelope. Retrieve the envelope and read its contents. Then, if you desire to know more, you will need to wait.”

That night Lillian was perplexed. She had a million questions. What kind of trap is this? Could this be something legitimate? Would she be putting herself in danger because she was desperate for money? She didn’t know and as the night progressed she didn’t care. She was looking at a check for $20,000. This could change her life. She would be sure to tell someone where she was going and to bring her phone with her. She was willing to take the risk. She fell asleep engrossed in thoughts about what tomorrow would hold.

Before she even realized it, it was 11:50am. She entered the address in her phone’s GPS and at noon, Lillian got into her car and drove west on Barnett Street. She drove carefully, glancing to the right and left to be sure she did not miss Building 5301A. “You have arrived at your destination”, her GPS announced. She parked her car, gathered her belongings, and made her way to the bench underneath the Sycamore tree. She approached hesitantly but sat down and gently slid her hand underneath the bench. She felt the envelope and pulled slightly to remove it from its holding place. She opened the envelope and her eyes began to fill with tears.

The first document she found was a birth certificate. Lillian had never known her father. She was told he left before she was born and wanted no part in her life but there, in print and with a signature, she saw a man’s name. She took a deep breath and turned the page. The second document was a picture of a man, who looked so familiar, holding a baby in a hospital nursery. The photo was old but Lillian could see her name written on the tag in the crib. She turned another page and there was a letter petitioning the courts for visitation. The next page was a bank document of a trust in her name. She began to flip through the pages and she saw newspaper clippings of events in which she had participated throughout the years, she found ticket stubs purchased for school plays and sporting events she participated in, and she even found pictures of all her graduations: Kindergarten, fifth grade, eighth grade, high school, and college. The final page was a letter, handwritten and addressed to her.

“My Dearest Lillian,

I have loved you all your life and have watched from afar as you have become the beautiful and gifted woman I always knew you would be. I have always dreamed of walking alongside you as you travel through this thing called life but that is not the cards we were dealt. However, my prayer now, is that you will let me be the father you needed and the father I desired to be. Let me carry your burdens and take care of you. I will spend my life making my absence up to you if you will let me.

Sincerely,

Your Father”

Unphased by her very public surroundings and overwhelmed by this envelope of life-changing information; she was, herself, enveloped in emotions. She remembered that the passage in the notebook said, “If you want to know more, you will need to wait.” So she waited. She waited and she cried. She tried to think back over all the documents she had just seen. She tried to make sense of it all. As she was playing this over and over in her mind, all the while weeping, a young woman stopped to ask her if she was ok. Lillian tried to answer and the concerned young woman said, “Oh goodness, would you like a tissue?” As Lillian looked up to answer, she heard another voice say, “I’ll take care of it.” She saw the face of the man in the café and he, with tears in his eyes, smiled and embraced his daughter. Two books. One story. The silent swap of a little black book changed two lives forever.