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Heart's Desire

by Irene Smith

NOTE: This story was written in response to an exercise prompt. The prompt provided the basic situation that someone walks up to you, hands you a bag and says, "Here you go."

I tried, honest I did! When that old lady handed me the bag, I tried to give it back to her. I was sure she thought I was someone she knew because she smiled so sweetly as she gave it to me . . .

There I was in the middle of the rush hour traffic, waiting for my husband to pick me up, when this little old lady walked up to me. She walked right up to me, smiled this big smile like we had been friends all our lives and said, "Here you go." Then she handed me the shopping bag and took off into the crowd.

I tried to follow her, but she disappeared in less than half a block. She must have ducked into one of the little shops along the street or down an alleyway or something. She was nowhere in sight. One minute she was about twenty feet or so in front of me, the next minute--gone. When I realized I couldn't see her anymore, I gave up and went back to the corner. I knew my chances of catching her were about the same as winning the lottery or flapping my arms and flying to the moon.

When I got back to where I was standing when she handed me the bag, I looked around. Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity. However, none of the people on the street seemed to be looking for anyone. They all scurried along as they had before the incident, looking neither left nor right, as they headed home to start the weekend.

I peeked into the bag and saw a beautifully wrapped package. The paper was silver with just a hint of purple, my favorite color. The bow was large and looked like thinly beaten silver. It had a sheen that reflected many different colors, sometimes blue, then green or even pale yellow.

I stood there for a while, trying to decide what to do. I couldn't just leave the package. It wouldn't last long on the street and someone might come for it. Finally, I walked over to the news stand on the corner.

"Excuse me, has anyone been asking about a missing package?" I asked the woman behind the counter.

She looked up at me and frowned. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not that I know of."

I told her the story of the old woman and then said, "I know you're busy, but if someone should ask about a package, would you ask them for a name and phone number? That way I can arrange to get it back to them."

"Sure," she said. "But if there's a reward, I want a share."

We talked for a while and I told her I would check with her on Monday to see if anyone had asked about the bag.

By the time my husband arrived, the streets seemed deserted by comparison to the earlier rush. I jumped in the car, tossed the package in the back, and gave my husband a thorough and passionate kiss. Spending the week in the city, away from him, was not much fun. I had been missing him all that week but I realized that if we wanted to have a good life, we would both have to make some sacrifices and my staying in the city during the week to work was only one of many. There was no question of my commuting the four hours each way and the bus fares were outrageous. On the other hand, the money was so good, we just couldn't turn down the offer. Fortunately, a high school roommate of mine was willing to let me sleep on her couch five nights a week.

"What's in the bag?" my husband asked.

I told him what had happened and he immediately got concerned.

"You ought to know better than to accept anything from strangers, hon. There could be a bomb in that bag, or worse."

I couldn't imagine what would be worse than a bomb, but then, I couldn't imagine such a kind looking person doing anything nasty to begin with.

"That's silly," I said. "If there was a bomb in the bag, don't you think it would have gone off already?"

"You never know what kind of weirdos there might be in a big city," he replied. "After all, you were raised in North Nowhere and have no frame of reference. I think we should go to the police about this."

"What if there's a reward? Do you think we'll get it if we turn in the package? Besides, it has to be a mistake," I said. "I'm sure it'll all be cleared up on Monday when I check with the woman over there at the newsstand."

Finally, my husband's greed won out over his caution. I put the bag in the back seat of the car and we headed for home.

Even though we had a busy weekend, the package was constantly on my mind. I kept trying to figure out what possible reason the old woman had for giving it to me in the first place. Every time I walked past the bag, I thought about taking out the package and examining it more closely. Somehow I managed to restrain myself and, on Monday, I took the bag to work with me.

Over the next few days, I checked with the woman at the newsstand every time I passed by on my way in or out of the office. Each time she told me that no one had asked about a missing package.

After several weeks, I got tired of carrying the package around with me and put it in the closet at my office. After several more weeks, I forgot it entirely. My life was getting busier all the time. I loved my job and, although being separated from my husband all week was never easy, the benefits--being able to go to the grocery store and buy whatever looked good without having to count pennies, being able to answer the phone without cringing--far outweighed the disadvantages.

The money I earned made it possible for us to buy a second car so I could go home on Fridays and holidays without waiting for my husband to pick me up. We began to talk about trying to have a baby again.

At the end of October, my husband found a job closer to the city and we moved to a house in the suburbs so we could commute. Once we settled into our new home, we decided the time had finally arrived to start our family.

One afternoon in mid-December, I sat at my desk, not getting any work done, waiting for the gynecologist's office to call with the results of the latest pregnancy test. Although the home pregnancy test had been negative, I was two months late.

I played solitaire on my desktop computer until my shoulders ached from holding the mouse. I was simultaneously anxious and bored. Suddenly, I remembered the box. It occurred to me that maybe there might be some kind of identification on the package that would help me get it to its rightful owner.

I got the bag out of the closet and finally took the package out of the bag. There was no marking on it anywhere. Maybe I should open it? No, someone might still come looking for it, even after all this time. I was going to put it back, when I noticed a small slip of paper at the bottom of the bag.

The paper was a note, written with faded blue ink in a shaky hand. I still have the note if you want to see it. It said:

There was no signature.

I knew immediately what my heart's desire was. I hesitated. What I wanted more than anything else in the whole world was to have a baby. In fact, the doctor might call with good new any second now. Getting pregnant, however, was not the problem. We were fertile enough. The first time we tried to have a baby, I got pregnant almost immediately. Everything was fine until about halfway through the fifth month.

After a routine sonogram, I got a phone call from my doctor telling me that they had noticed that my cervix was dilating. Despite the fact that I immediately got in bed and stayed there, my water broke the next day and we lost the baby. Because of our new jobs and the move, we had waited more than the prescribed six months to try again.

I considered the package as it sat in front of me on my desk. How could it possibly contain my heart's desire? Obviously, there wasn't a baby in the package. Maybe there was money or some other valuable inside? Six months ago when I was unemployed, money would have gone a long way to make things easier for us, but even then, it wasn't my "heart's desire."

Finally I got up the courage to unwrap the package. With trembling hands I reached for the it.

At the merest touch of my fingers, the wrappings fell away with a quiet rustling sound as though my intent alone had been enough to undo the fastenings. Beneath the paper was a wooden box, beautifully carved with hearts and flowers. The box smelled of fresh pine. Funny, I hadn't noticed that before. The catch opened easily. I took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

The box was empty!

At that moment, the phone rang. I jumped, as though I had been caught doing something I shouldn't, and lunged for the receiver. When I picked it up, I heard the familiar voice of my gynecologist.

"Mrs. Simpson, I have good news. You're pregnant!"

I looked at the box suspiciously but it was still empty. Coincidence, of course! Even so, I hadn't gotten my desire yet. Being pregnant was just the first step. Now I had to get through the next seven months. I packed the box and the wrapping paper back into the shopping bag, put the whole package back into the closet and locked the door. Then I called my husband with the good news.

The pregnancy went well. They stitched my cervix closed just as soon as they heard the baby's heartbeat and last week I gave birth to a healthy nine pound boy. He's beautiful, isn't he?

I found the box today when I went to work to show off the baby and clean out my office. I carefully wrapped it in the same paper it was in when the old woman gave it to me and went looking for its next recipient.

I really did get my heart's desire. Was opening the box responsible or was it just coincidence? I don't know and I don't care. I only know that I'm not taking any chances. In order for me to keep that which I desire most, I have to give the package to a complete stranger and you have such a nice face.

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