Our Heart (53 page)

The big surprise was at the reception. Justin and the Thoroughbreds played the music, but when Jackson White, the country star who sang my song, stepped out on the stage, everyone went nuts. It was the best-kept secret in the world. No one outside of my agent, Justin, and I knew he was going to be there. What’s more, it was all Jackson’s idea. My song had won the single of the year and attending the award ceremony with Allison had been a special and rewarding occasion. “The Heart is Key” was one of the highest requested songs for Jackson to sing. When he heard I was marrying
one of
the inspiration
s
for the song, he had to come, dropping all of his plans and postponing a couple of tour dates to a later time. He sang as Allison and I danced our wedding dance. It was perfect as the flashbulbs made the moment sparkle. We all celebrated long into the night, until Allison and I excused ourselves and rode out in the limo to the honeymoon suite at the Houserbrook hotel in Cedar Rapids.

Jackson spent the night at the same hotel, and we ran into him in the lobby, when we arrived. He was surrounded by fans and had a last laugh when he pointed us out, telling them I was the one who wrote the song and Allison was the love it was written about. It took us nearly an hour to get to our room, but Allison enjoyed being at the center of attention. I got a moment to talk to Jackson, and he asked me if he could see the old oak tree he’d heard so much about. I agreed and told him that if wanted to stop at the house tomorrow afternoon around two, I’d take him up there myself. Allison and I had to be back at my grandparents’ house to open gifts in the morning, but sometime after lunch, I could be ready. He agreed.

Our wedding had been one to remember, but the wedding night will always live close to my heart. It was the first night when I got to experience the love of Mrs. Allison Owens. It may have been six years coming, but I thanked God I’d have her next to me to share every day from now on. When we finally realized we needed to sleep, Allison snuggled up to me and whispered in my ear.

“I prayed every day after you left for you to come home and find it in your heart to forgive me. I was so scared of losing you that I gave into…”

I hushed her and wouldn’t let her finish what she was saying. “It doesn’t matter what you did or why; it no longer matters what I did, either. What
only
matters
to me
is
that
you are here right now, and I plan to do everything I can to make sure you never have a reason to doubt my love ever again.” Allison leaned her head to mine and, in the darkness, I kissed away the fears of the past. We slowly let sleep overtake us with a newfound tranquility and a notion in my mind that my grandfather was looking down on me. I hadn’t crossed the ocean, but I now understood the depths of his undying love for my grandma.

The morning was bright, with the sun doing its best to chase away the chill of the night before. We made love until we barely had time to shower and get back to the house for the gift opening. We were late and, once we arrived, some of our friends couldn’t help but embarrass us in front of the rest of the guests. We took it in good humor and made our way to the gift table. Friends and family stood ready with glasses of orange juice spiked with Champaign to toast us. After all of the gifts were opened and the thank-yous passed around, we headed into The Dittmers’ house for a great lunch. I sat next to my father, and he asked about Jackson White, wanting to know if he was a friend and how I’d come to meet him. We talked about him for awhile and then, suddenly, it dawned on me I had nearly forgotten all about the key up at the tree. I had subconsciously stimulated the pathways, until a connection between taking Jackson up to see the tree later and the key embedded there emerged.

I tried my best to casually mention the tree. Dad winced a little when I did. I asked him if he’d ever been there to see the heart I’d carved, and he nodded, saying it was amazing, and he liked the key I’d done in the center, too.

“Speaking of keys, I liked the way you put a key in the tree, next to your heart,” I threw out at him.

My dad looked puzzled, and then responded, “What key?”

I shared the story of how Zach had spied the key and how it was purposely placed in the tree next to the heart he had carved for Mom and him. I also told him I was taking Jackson White up to see the tree later in the afternoon. I asked him if he wanted to go and he shook his head no.

“Still pretty tough,” was all my dad could say.

The party began to slow down around one-thirty, and I excused myself when I saw a large Ford pickup park across the street, while we stood on the front porch thanking guests as they were leaving. I went out to meet Jackson and brought him back to the house with me. I had told Allison earlier I was going to take him up to the tree and she asked if I was going to have him autograph it. I laughed, and then actually thought about it for a moment. Jackson was already dressed for the hike, and he waited in the living room of my grandparents’ house while I went upstairs to change. I was sleeping in my old room
.
S
ince Christmas
,
Allison and I had started
the project of
remodeling my Grandparents’ bedroom
for
Zach
. Allison and I were
going to take my
old
room
.
Allison had already picked out the paint and wallpaper border she was going to use
after we moved everything in from her place. Our room would be a work in progress, and I laughed every time she wrinkled her nose on entering my room.

I threw on jeans, a sweatshirt, and my tromping shoes as I called them. The path and field were going to be muddy with the snow melting and the ground slowly starting to soften from the winter’s freeze. Jackson was standing in the hall looking at all of the pictures placed there. They were still in the heart shaped outline. I pointed out my grandparents’ picture and the one with my mom and dad in it.

We talked as we walked the familiar path. It was pretty sloppy and both of us nearly fell a couple of times. Eventually, we made it out of the woods, into the meadow. I really wished it could have been in full bloom and the leaves out on the trees so that Jackson could see it when it was the most stunning.

“Amazing,” he said, as he stood at the bottom of the hill looking up at the tree, “I think I already understand this place and why you wrote such a great song.”

His complement wasn’t lost on me and I thanked him. We ducked under the branch and I waited to see what his reaction would be. He just took it all in, nodded, and smiled. He turned to me and clapped me hard on the back. I staggered a little, and he laughed. I joined in and then he got closer so he could see it up close.

After a couple of minutes he said, “You know, I really like that someone put a real key in the tree.”

“Funny thing is, we don’t know who did it or why. I thought it might have been my dad, but he didn’t do it,” I said.

“I’ve got a key like that at home,” he commented. “It’s the one that goes to my bank’s safe-deposit box.”

Suddenly I knew who put the key there, and if it was to a safe-deposit box in a bank, I was reasonably sure what was in it. I just didn’t know why. The one thing I had never found in the house was the journal that I had given my grandfather. I looked for it many different times. I finally declared to the house that it was not there. What I didn’t know was why he would have gone to the trouble to put the key here, on the tree, and lock his journal away. It made me wonder what other great secrets he was trying to hide.

I didn’t have anything with me that I could use to pry the key out of the tree, so I asked Jackson if he had something. He nodded and reached in his pocket to pull out a rather large folded knife. He smiled as he handed it to me. I opened it and dug the point in behind the top of the key. The varnish held the key tight, and I couldn’t even manage a wiggle. I spent several more minutes scraping and digging at the key until finally, the tree gave it up.

I handed the knife back to Jackson and put the key in my pocket. Together, we walked back down the hill. Jackson commented on how this seemed like an adventure and how much he was enjoying his visit to the town and getting to know me. We talked about music and he said that if I ever wanted to come to a concert
,
he’d make sure I’d have the opportunity to come out on stage and sing my song along with him. It was pretty clear to me
that
he and I were becoming friends, and I looked forward to our friendship growing in the future.

Once back to the house, Jackson excused himself and thanked me again for everything. He said he needed to head to the airport, but I had to promise to let him know what I found out about the key. I obliged and said I would. After he left, I went next door to visit with my in-laws.

Chapter 34

I told my father about the key and we spent much of Sunday night reminiscing about Mom and my grandparents. We had really come a long way in mending the relationship between us and, when Zach had called him Grandpa, I could tell he had been really moved by it. He called his employer first thing Monday morning and told them that it would be Tuesday before he could make it back. After meeting for breakfast at Bill’s, we walked over to the branch of the
Community
First Bank.

I spent a lot of time cleaning up the key, but being careful not to hurt any of the peaks. I wanted to make sure it would work. There was a number on the key, G434-219. When I showed it to the receptionist she confirmed it was indeed a key to the safe-deposit boxes in the bank. She walked us over to Ken Waterman, and he took us downstairs to the room where all of the safe-deposit boxes were kept. We walked through the iron gate and into the safe. He showed me where to place my key and then he put his master key in the secondary lock. Mine twisted easily and Ken lowered the front panel and then reached in and withdrew the box holding the mysterious contents.

He took it over to the table and told us to ring him, showing us the button for the bell by the door, when we were finished. He reminded us to leave the box where it was and he would put it away. I had to use my key to unlock the box from the top. Dad and I took simultaneous big breaths as I lifted the lid. It was like I’d anticipated. Inside the box was Grandpa’s journal, but there was also something wrapped up in a cloth, lying on top of it. I lifted it out of the box to see if anything was underneath it. The journal was the only thing left in the box. The thing wrapped in cloth was heavy and I could tell it was made of metal.

Dad gave me a quizzical look, which I acknowledged with a shrug. I removed the cloth to reveal the prize within. I heard my father suck in his breath. It was a very old axe head. My father whispered under his breath, “I’ll be damned,” and then said, “it’s
gotta be Zachariah
Murphy’s. It was my turn to choke on the air.

I lay
the
old
axe
head
aside,
reaching in the box for Grandpa’s journal.
I told my father about Grandpa’s journal. He nodded and stood next to me as I placed it on the table. I sprung the clasp and opened it up. Taped to the inside of the cover was an envelope with my name on it.

Careful not to tear the paper on the inside cover of the journal, I loosened the tape and released the envelope. I opened it and withdrew the document inside. I couldn’t believe what I held in my hands, and I had an even harder time fathoming what I was reading. The paper I held was a deed to thirty acres of land that once had belonged to the Murphy family. In the center of the thirty acres was the oak tree, which had become so much of my heritage. What was the most unbelievable thing of all was the fact the deed was made out to Jason P. Owens and Allison J. Owens.

I looked over at my father and he just smiled.