THE CELLAR DOOR

The Cellar Door

It had been a long time since she had climbed down those steps as a child, but as soon as she opened the door, she recognized the smell. A musty combination of coffee and jam, and tears came to her eyes when she remembered the last time she saw her grandmother. A proud, hard-working woman who had held the family together during the toughest of times. Stern and no-nonsense until the chores were done … but the first one to suggest a taffy pull and the last one to stomp on your childhood dreams. Pork chops and applesauce and sliced white bread. Those were Harriet’s memories of her grandmother who died the year she graduated from high school. 

As Harriet grew older, the family began to separate with everyone going their own way. A few attempts at a family reunion in the beginning but finally no excuse to go back there. The home had been sold the year her grandmother passed away, then repainted a different shade of blue, and the one-car garage converted later to another bedroom. In all these years, this was the only news Harriet ever heard about the house and no one Harriet knew had any contact with the family who bought it 25 years ago. So when Harriet returned for her first high school reunion, she hesitated about driving by the old neighborhood. The house she had grown up in was torn down the year her son Billie was born, but it was her grandmother’s home that kept calling to her now. How wonderful it would be to see it again, but what if it looked too run down or too many changes had been made? Then she would be sorry later if seeing the house again took away any of her happy memories. Best to leave well enough alone and keep the past behind you was what she finally concluded.

Or so Harriet thought until the morning after the reunion when she saw her grandmother’s old house for sale in the local newspaper. Listed as an “Estate Sale” with furniture included, the owner must have passed away suddenly. The ad went on to state there would be an open house and auction of the personal belongings at 2 p.m. today, and the public was cordially invited and encouraged to attend. Convinced that fate had intervened and the Universe wanted her to see the home again, Harriet was there promptly when the doors opened.  When she walked in, she was immediately handed a list of the personal items that were to be auctioned off that day as well as a description of the house itself that would be sold at a later date after requisite inspections were made by any interested parties. Harriet scanned the page quickly and then began to look around, searching for any reminders of her grandmother. Other than the garage conversion, a new roof and new paint, the home surprisingly looked exactly as she remembered. Original kitchen and original bathrooms … even sections of the carpet looked the same to Harriet. It clearly needed a lot of work, but the bones were good and if she could get it for the minimum bid, it would be a real bargain. 

She tossed and turned that night, going over every detail of the house in Wyoming. It could be a second home for her family and a chance to reunite everyone she cared about from her past. Perfect for summer vacations and a great winter destination at Christmas. So as soon as she woke up, and before she even had her first cup of coffee, Harriet was on the phone with the realtor expressing her interest and getting details of what was needed to make her bid. Although the woman remembered her and seemed happy to hear her voice, Harriet was disappointed to learn there were two other interested parties and even more surprised to hear that what they both desired the most was the storm cellar. Now marketed with today’s jargon as a panic room/bomb shelter, the realtor said both buyers had been looking for quite a while for a special room like this and warned that the bid may go considerably higher than she would want to pay. But fearing that she would kick herself later if she didn’t proceed, Harriet went ahead and authorized inspections of the property which would take place at the end of the week. 

When Harriet returned home from work on Friday, there was a call from the Wyoming realtor asking her to call her back as soon as possible. A problem had come up during the inspections, and a further examination was recommended. Something about water leaking from the back wall of the storm cellar, behind the canned goods, and the inspector needed permission to remove a few shelves. Agreeing to the additional charge and worrying that she was now in over her head with maintenance issues, Harriet spent two more sleepless nights waiting for the details. But it wasn’t what she expected at all, and the inspector who called her with the results said that in all the years he had been in the business he had never seen anything quite like it. The leak was minor, a broken pipe of some kind, but it was what was behind the leaking wall that was most exciting … and he had found the switch himself. A narrow but fairly deep passageway that connected to two wider tunnels with openings to several buildings on the main street. The largest hotel and bar in town where they celebrated many family birthdays, the bank where Harriet opened her first savings account, the railroad depot and the mayor’s home. The FBI was now being called in, but if one officer was right, there was also a third tunnel that connected the depot to the next town over.  Also, the realtor would be calling her soon, but clearly the sale would be delayed for the time being until a further investigation was conducted. 

Too stunned to comment at first and then almost afraid to ask any details, there was an awkward pause until Harriet finally responded: “Any idea how long these tunnels have been there?” “Quite old, I imagine. Perhaps 50 years or more” was the answer she received.

Copyright © 2015 (Michelle Parsons, Getting Back on Your Path). All Rights Reserved.

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