The Perfect Gift

Through the pristine glass of the kitchen sink window, Alexis spotted her elderly neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, teetering among the tangled vines and overgrown vegetation of his forgotten flower garden. It had been a month since he had patiently nursed her back to health. Though she thanked him, the words felt like a mere chuckle compared to her depth of gratitude.

 “What do you need, my old friend?” she pondered as she placed the final cooking pot on the white drainboard. Suddenly, Mr. Jenkens collapsed to the ground. Without hesitation, Alexis darted out the side door.

“Mr. Jenkins?” Alexis shouted as she sprinted toward him, her straight, long brown hair catching the wind. “Mr. Jenkins, are you okay?” Accepting the hand she offered, he stood up and regained his balance.

 “I think that I may have tripped on this mess.” He grinned, brushing off his worn-out denim overalls. “I think it is time for a little break.” “Want to join me on the porch for some lemonade?”

Alexis hesitated. She was eager to finish the following two chapters of her mystery novel to satisfy her publisher, but as she examined Mr. Jenkins's lonely, hopeful eyes, she could not refuse.

“Sure, that would be refreshing.”

As Mr. Jenkins retreated inside to fetch the lemonade, Alexis settled into the old wicker chair with the flowered cushion on it. When he returned, he carried a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses filled with ice, and chocolate chip cookies on a flowered ceramic plate.

“You remembered my favorite cookie,” Alexis said.

“Of course.” I made them last night.” “I was planning on bringing them over later today.”

“That's so thoughtful; thanks, Mr. Jenkins.”

“How’s the book coming?” He asked as he sipped his refreshing lemonade.

“It’s slow,” Alexis said as the ice clinked against her glass. “I need to figure out who will be the murderer.” She chuckled as she took another sip of her cold beverage.”

“You will figure it out,” He encouraged, “I have faith in you.”

 “Thanks. Speaking of the book, I should get going.” Alexis placed her glass on the porch table.

“Wait a minute. Let me wrap up these cookies.” He announced as he gingerly got up from his chair. “Maybe they will inspire you.”

Alexis could not help but laugh, “That would be wonderful.”

As Mr. Jenkins disappeared into the house, Alexis got up from the creaking wicker chair and strolled toward the garden. “Hmm, this is a mess,” she thought as she noted the overgrown weeds and dead plants.

“Alexis…” Mr. Jenkins shouted from the porch. “Here are your cookies.”

She hurried to the porch and took the delicious gift. “Mr. Jenkins, would you like me to help you straighten the flower garden tomorrow?”

“I would appreciate that,” he sighed. “My wife was the gardener in the family.” His eyes began to glisten. “She passed away about a year ago.” “She would be painfully upset with me if she saw what a horrible mess her garden was.”

“Let’s remedy that,” she said, gently touching his shoulder. “What time do you want to start?”

“How about seven AM, is that too early?”

“No, I will see you at seven sharp.” Alexis went home with the cookies and a pep in her step, looking forward to helping him the next day.

When Alexis arrived the next day, Mr. Jenkins was already working in the garden, his sliver hair covered with a fishing hat.

“Morning, Mr. Jenkins,” Alexis said as she sipped her green tea. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why don’t you work on the roses over there while I clear this dead Lavender and the Echinacea?”

She moved toward the dilapidated roses and plunged her spade deep into the dry earth, determined to pull out the stubborn weeds. Less than an hour later, she was interrupted by a metallic “clink.”

“Mr. Jenkins…” Alexis called, continuing to uncover the source of the sound. “Mr. Jenkins, Come quick!” “I think I found something.”

With as much speed as possible, Mr. Jenkins made his way, leaning heavily on his cane as he hurried toward her. “What did you find?”

“Look, it looks like an old metal lunch box, Alexis stated, gently brushing away the rest of the dirt. She carefully lifted the box from the ground depths, holding it up for him to see.

“Oh, my!” he exclaimed, stunned. “I did not realize that was still in the garden.”  His hands trembled slightly as he examined it. “Bring it over on the porch; He said, handing it back to her, “let's see if anything is in it.”

Alexis glanced toward Mr. Jenkin’s and winked. “I love a good mystery,” she said, taking the metal box toward the porch.

Alexis sat beside him, gently placing the box before Mr. Jenkins. She watched eagerly as he settled into the white wicker chair. He flipped open the latch and lifted the lid, revealing the contents inside.

His eyes glistened as he pulled out a black-and-white photo. “This is my wife, Hattie, and me on our wedding day,” he shared. The picture showed a young man in a military uniform holding hands with a petite woman in a floral dress. “We had gotten married the day before I shipped out.” Alexis leaned in, not wanting to miss a word that he spoke. “I had forgotten that when we bought the house, we made a time capsule, and this picture was the first thing we put in there.” Mr. Jenkins carefully placed the photo on the table and continued to rummage through the small metal box.

“Hattie must have continued to put stuff in it.”

Next, he pulled out a set of dog tags. " These were my best friend, Eddie’s,” his voice was hoarse. “We both signed up for the Navy the same day; after training, he was shipping out to Hawaii, and I was going to be stationed in Virginia.” “He is the one who took the picture of us.” “Hattie and I were his only family; he died at Pearl Harbor.”

“That must have been very difficult,” Alexis said empathetically, “Losing your best friend; I am sorry you had to endure that.”

Alexis peered into the box and spotted a pair of white baby shoes delicately placed in the corner. “How about these?” she asked softly, pointing to the tiny shoes. At this point, Mr. Jenkins could no longer maintain his composure; tears streaked down his face. “Those are our little Emma’s; our firstborn, she caught the measles in ’49 and died.”

 Alexis gently placed her arm around Mr. Jenkins's shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

“It was so long ago, but it is comforting to know Hattie is with our little girl now.”

“Do you need a little break?” she asked, “I can grab some lemonade?”

“Thanks, Alexis; I could use a drink.”

 Alexis proceeded to the kitchen to retrieve the beverages. Mr. Jenkins pulled out a cigar and smiled. It read, “It’s a boy.” Just then, Alexis returned with the glasses and fresh lemonade and could not help but grin when she saw him. “That seems like a happy memory.

“It was…my son was born in ’55.”

“What is his name?” Alexis asked, a little ashamed that she was unaware he had a son after six months of knowing him.

“Peter…” he stated, “lives in Texas with his wife.” “Peter’s son is a chaplain in the military, and his daughter is a teacher. She has two kids.” Mr. Jenkins could not help but grin from ear to ear.

 Alexis handed him his lemonade as he continued to search through the box. He caught a glimpse of a couple of articles Hattie had saved, one from V-E Day in May 1945 and another about Dr. John Enders and the measles vaccine in 1963.

As Mr. Jenkins lifted the articles from the box, something slipped between them and fell on the floor. Alexis bent down to pick it up. It was a napkin that had aged but was still legible. Someone had handwritten: Our First Date: 5-22-41.

 “Mr. Jenkins, this says it is from your first date,” Alexis said, showing him the napkin.

 Squinting his eyes as he cautiously took the napkin, “Ah, yes,” he said, recognizing the memory, “Hattie and I met through friends,” his eyes softened as he spoke. Eddie knew her friends Betty and Bill.” One night, we all met for ice cream.” “That looks like the napkin from the ice cream shop.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Alexis's eyes widened, looking for more details about the couple's meeting. Mr. Jenkins chuckled, shaking his head, “No, not for Hattie.” He continued, “She was hesitant to go out with someone who was in the Navy.” Looking up from the yellow napkin, he said, “The first time I saw her, I knew… she was the one.” “We were married six months later,” He continued, “I shipped out the next day.”

“That must have been a whirlwind romance.” Alexis could not help but pry, “How long were you and Hattie married?”

“We celebrated our Seventieth wedding anniversary.” Mr. Jenkins paused, “She passed away two weeks later.”

“Seventy years.” Alexis was impressed. “I hope someday my marriage lasts that long.”

“Hattie was something special,” the memory struck a smile. She was the love of my life,” he continued, “and still is.”

 Alexis gently placed her hand on his shoulder as they began carefully replacing the items in the box, leaving out the cherished photo of him and his beautiful wife.

Mr. Jenkins held her hand firmly. “I am so glad you found this and that I could share some of my history with you,” he murmured. Thank you; it means a lot.”

Alexis’s heart was filled with compassion and respect for her elderly friend. “It was my pleasure,” she blotted a tear from her eye. “Will you rebury it?”

Mr. Jenkins closed the lid and tightened the latch,” Yes, but let’s get the garden in perfect “Hattie” condition, then rebury it.”

After a month of working side by side, the garden was finally in “Hattie” condition, an honor he wanted to bestow on his wife.

“It’s time, Alexis.” Mr. Jenkins said, “But before we do, I want to add something to the treasure.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie magnet. “This magnet will remind me of you and our time in the garden.” Carefully placing the magnet in the box, he closed the lid and secured the latch.

 “Mr. Jenkins, that is so sweet.” Her eyes were on the brink of tears. She leaned over and hugged him warmly.

“Let’s rebury the box by the yellow roses,” Mr. Jenkins suggested, “those were Hattie’s favorite." Alexis nodded as they both made their way back to the garden.

“Want to do the honors?” she asked, handing Mr. Jenkins the box.

“Yes,” he replied, gently placing the box in the hole and covering it with soil. “It is finished,” he whispered. Then, looking at Alexis, he smiled, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yep, see you at seven,” she responded, giving him another hug before returning to her house.

A tear glistened on Alexis’s cheek as precious memories of her elderly friend flooded her mind. She gazed at the yellow roses, holding a spade in hand. Mr. Jenkin’s great-grandchildren played tag outside while friends and family comforted each other.

Alexis stood before the roses, glanced at the clouded sky, and winked. “Hey! Emma…Jake… want to find a treasure?”