Cory Finneron
Watauga High School
Sponsored by William B. Watterson
Spring 2000

Scratch and Win

Mr. Johnathan Savvy sat quietly in his wooden pew on a brilliant Sunday morning as the throngs of church goers hurried out the doors, attempting to be as reverent and respectable as possible, but really just desiring to get out of church and off to their very important lives. He hadn't moved a muscle since the congregation had been dismissed, just as he did every Sunday morning. It took about fifteen to twenty minutes for the parish community to clear on regular days (it took longer on holidays), but to a bum, what is time? John had no desire to return to the street begging for that night's meal when he could remain in the safe haven that St. Patrick's Church offered him.

He sat in the same seat that he always sat in. It was the one in the very far back comer of the church, right next to the window where he could watch the sun rise and feel the warmth of its rays upon his face as he listened to Father Sam's voice drift over the congregation. The golden rays looked hazy in the dimly lit church as they alighted upon his closed eyelids and face, which if studied, could be found to conceal a smile very deep below the surface.

When the church was completely silent, his eyes opened. He blinked off the brightness from the sun and looked around. As usual, there were two other people left. One, on the other side of the church, was a woman, sitting with her eyes closed and rosary beads in her hand.

Although he had been in this same situation many times before, John still had no idea what her name was. The other person in the church was the priest, Father Sam. He would come and go, setting up things, praying, walking around or sitting in his office.

John rose and approached the altar.

"Holy Father," John prayed in a whisper, "please grant that I may be the worst one off in this world, because if the one most denied of happiness in this world is me, then everyone else must be happier. Please grant me a way out of the life that I am living and into a better one. Please forgive me of my sins, and help me to live a good life that serves you and everyone else to the best of my ability."

John was silent for several minutes, alone with God and the thoughts in his head.

"Thank you. I'll be back next week, and I'll see you before then. Amen." John concluded his prayer, rose, and walked over to the window. He stood there at the window, staring out at the city. This was his part of the city. The church was up on a small hill and there was grass surrounding it, a rare occurrence in this section of the city. John looked out over his small part of the universe, and he was appreciative of what he had. He was only a bum, but he knew every section of this part of the city: every street, every store, most of the people he recognized by face even though he didn't know many names. Most people shy away from telling their name to a bum.

This was his home.

Specifically, his home was across the street behind the Harris Teeter. There was a small nook in the wall with an air vent that John had built a small but sturdy home beneath. He had gathered various scrap boards from pallets that were left beside the dumpster to be hauled off, and with the nails that held the pallets together, he had built a roof that covered the inside of that nook in the wall. The top had a small hole that let the warm air from the vent in, but was constructed so the rain didn't leak in. The vent was probably what kept John alive, because the warm air was a constant source of heat for him in the cold winters that had killed many an unsheltered person or driven them from the city. The front of his home was just a sheet of plywood with handles that could be moved whenever he entered or left. Inside, he had a small table and a mattress he had found as-well as a small cross he had received as a gift at some unknown point in his life. The Harris Teeter people never bothered him because he never bothered them, and he couldn't be seen from the street, so the general public wouldn't know that.

Harris Teeter had let a bum build a house behind their store. All in all, it was an excellent set up for someone who lived on the streets and begged for his food.

John's heart burned with his desire to get out of his circle of poverty, but there was no one who would hire a homeless person. He had gotten some decent clothes once and applied at Wendy's and Harris Teeter. The Wendy's had accepted him, but he soon got fired because of his appearance. He had no place to shower or wash his clothes and no money to buy soap or deodorant. The manager asked him on his third day about it, and they were forced to "let him go" as soon as they found out he lived on the street.

He had tried saving money, but it was either eat or save money and he was soon forced to eat. He always managed keep some extra money stored away, a couple bucks at most, but that was for the nights when he had no money for food. Besides that, where could he possibly find a place to stay that would accept him off the streets and for only the little amount of money that he could possibly scrape up? A hotel was at least thirty bucks a night and he needed a job to even apply for the limited government funded housing that was available. He had even gotten thrown in jail once on purpose because free food and a warm place to stay were tempting offers, but he couldn't stand the confinement of not being able to see the sky, and he missed his city.

Johnathan Savvy was stuck in his plywood lean-to beneath the air vent of Harris Teeter, not from lack of trying but from lack of options.

John left the church and headed down the street. He stopped a couple blocks down near a bench and pulled out his cup. Every once in a while people would drop some change in, and he would overly thank them, for their pocket change kept his belly full and he didn't want them to think him unappreciative. When he began to shake from the cold he emptied his cup and counted the change.

Fifty-seven cents. He counted it again. One quarter, three nickels, and seventeen pennies. Fifty-seven cents. He told himself that it must have been just a bad comer, because he almost always got more than this. Except for lately. Last night he had spent the last of his reserve money, save for seven cents, on an apple. He had sixty-four cents total.

It was late when he entered Harris Teeter. He went to the produce section and picked out an apple, it was red and shiny and actually looked extremely good compared to what he usually got, but tonight he didn't seem to notice. All he saw were his dirty fingers against the shine of the apple. All he saw were his tom pants and patched coat as he dug into his pockets at the register and all he knew was despair when the apple rang up at seventy-six cents. He turned to go back to the produce section, but was stopped by the cashier. She was about his age, with long brown hair that still gleamed in the light. It was late, but even though he could tell she was tired, John could still sense the kindness and caring in her voice.

"Whatever you've got will be fine. Please don't go back."

He turned around and looked at her. He held out his hand, ashamed but grateful, and dropped the sixty-four cents from his weather beaten hands into her open palm.

"Thank you my child. God bless." His words were simple, but he had never meant them more, and both of them standing there at the register separated by a metal counter knew it.

"You're welcome" was all she said, but the look between the two of them was completely understood. As he left he wondered what she had faced in her life that allowed her to comprehend, in that one look, every ounce of pain in his body.

John began eating the apple as crossed the street to the church and looked up at the steeple, sticking straight up into the sky and piercing the clouds. Silently he prayed while he finished his apple, and as he turned he blinked away the tear that had formed in his eye. He began to descend the stairs, but as he reached the sidewalk, he stopped and looked down. Beneath his right foot was a brown leather wallet lying on the cold concrete steps off towards the right side. He bent down and picked up the wallet.

There was no one around.

He opened it and saw a worn ten-dollar bill and a scratch-off lottery ticket. There were no credit cards or ID's of any sort anywhere in the wallet. He felt something inside him go, and the tears came to his eyes. He turned and looked up the steeple, mouthed a quiet thank you towards the sky, and began walking quickly towards the backside of Harris Teeter.

Once he had the plywood board back in place, he sat on the mattress and let the warm air run all over him. He had set the wallet on the table and he was content to just stare at it for a while. Then, ever so slowly, he reached out and picked it up. He looked inside and once again saw the money and the lottery ticket. He took out the lottery ticket and began scratching it off. He had to match the number seven with one of the six numbers in the scratch off spaces. First number: eleven. Second number: thirteen. Third number: four. Fourth number: eight. He stopped. Only two left. He brushed the silver dust off his finger nail and continued. Fifth number: seven. He stopped in disbelief He had actually won. He amazement overwhelmed his excitement and he just sat there dumbly. For some reason he scratched off the last number and it was a one. He flipped it over and read. He had matched the number on the card with one number in the blanks, but only one number, so he had won one hundred dollars.

One hundred dollars.

He, Johnathan Savvy, who had just been twelve cents short trying to buy an apple in the Harris Teeter that he lived behind now had a ten dollar bill and a one hundred dollar lottery ticket.

One hundred and ten dollars. Total.

One hundred and ten dollars.

He set the card down on the table and began flipping through all the little pockets of the wallet because he had no idea what to do so he just quit thinking and let his actions control him. He found a small sheet of paper in one of the slots meant to hold a credit card.

Written in small, lower case letters that were neatly printed on a small slip of white paper were the words "If found, please return to 2027 Westwood Bend." No name, no telephone number, just the address.

John took out the bill and laid the bill, the wallet, the lottery ticket, and the paper side by side on his table and leaned back against the wall.

Thoughts flew through his mind: "What should I do? Who could possibly need this more than me? Should I return it? Should I take the money and return the wallet? Should I take the money and sell the wallet? Should I take the lottery ticket and not the money? Should I cash the lottery ticket and keep half for myself and return the rest? If I return the wallet and nothing else, what will I feel like the next day? And the next? And the next?"

He had no answers, only questions. He reached out and picked up everything, put it all back in the wallet and put the wallet in his back pocket before lying down on his bed and promptly falling asleep. It had been a long day.

When he awoke, he felt his back pocket. Yes, it was still there. He took out the wallet and looked inside. There was still a ten-dollar bill and a hundred-dollar lottery ticket. And there was still the address. He stared at it all. This could change his life; but then again... how he hated his conscience. He put the wallet in his pocket, stood up, opened the door, stepped out into the day, closed his door and headed to 2027 Westwood Bend. He hated his conscience with a passion.

He looked up ahead and there, in black iron letters on the post of the mailbox were the numbers 2027. It had been a very long walk. Westwood Bend was in the suburbs of the city, but not by far. It was about four or five miles from the church, just within the city limits. With determination he started walking forward. He reached the mailbox and with just as much determination turned right back around and headed home. He stopped about twenty-five yards down the street and sat down on the sidewalk and leaned back against a fence that someone had built around their yard. He thought about the whole situation and knew he had to return everything or he'd hate himself for it, and besides, he was surviving. He didn't really need that money. Really, he didn't.

This time his approach to the house was much slower, but also much more deliberate. He passed the mailbox. He walked up the path, up the three concrete stairs, and stopped on the green WELCOME mat. He pushed the button and heard it ring inside. He heard footsteps and the doorknob turn. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began talking as soon as the door opened.

"Excuse me but I found this wallet beside St. Patrick's..." John was silent. He had opened his eyes only to meet the warm and loving gaze of Father Sam. He was dumbfounded, but Father Sam was as friendly as ever.

"Well hello. Won't you please come in? I'm not sure that I know your name. You sit in the back comer every Sunday and wait after church to pray. Am I correct?"

John was silent.

"Sir, are you all right? I'm Father Sam. I'm the priest at the church you go to."

John shook his head in acknowledgement.

"Is there something I can help you with today? Something about a wallet?"

Silence.

"Sir?"

Slowly the words came to his lips. "Y-y-yess. I found this wallet last night at the base of the stairs of the church and the paper in it said to return it to this address, but I didn't know it was your address."

"Is there something wrong with it being my address?"

"No. No, it's just that. Well, I wasn't expecting someone I know."

"Well we aren't really acquainted, so you don't really know me."

"Still. I wasn't expecting anyone I knew. Especially not you."

Father Sam seemed slightly taken aback by John's last comment and he immediately wished he had never said it. "Why not me?" asked Father Sam.

John had no idea why he'd said it, so he couldn't answer the question. He was speechless, save for a few incomprehensible mutterings under his breath that came out of the total confusion and chaos his world had just been thrown into.

"I, well uh... I don't really know."

As he was proclaiming his ignorance, John realized why. Father Sam was the only person in this world that was truly nice to him. Although they had rarely spoken, and never been formally- introduced, Father Sam had never looked down upon John, even out of pity, as almost everyone did. He seemed to understand him and he seemed to care about him and love him. No one had loved John in so long he couldn't remember what it felt like which was why he didn't know why he was so taken aback by Father Sam; this was the only person that loved him and the only person that John truly respected and strove to be like, even though he didn't know it. Until now. It took this chance meeting for him to realize exactly how much he respected Father Sam.

"Well, okay then. Won't you stay for lunch? You look like you haven't had a good meal in days."

"Oh. Well, um, you see, well actually..." John stopped and looked into the welcoming eyes of Father Sam. "Yes, I'd love to."

After lunch, the two men moved outside to the small patio in the back of the house.

There were four white metal chairs around a white metal table next to a very small green yard. John wasn't used to seeing grass in someone's yard, and was quite surprised when Father Sam opened the door to the patio.

The two men sat down and looked around. Father Sam started the conversation.

"Why did you bring the wallet back? I mean, it's a very long walk for you, and you certainly could use the money. Frankly, I'm amazed that I got my wallet back the day after I lost it, especially in this city. I was just glad I only lost ten dollars, but now I've gained a hundred. I must thank you for this good deed. But why? Why did you do it?"

There was a silence before John finally drew in his breath to answer.

"Did you ever see Pinocchio?"

Father Sam drew back in surprise, but then just shook his head "Yes."

"You know Jiminy Cricket?"

Head nod. "Yes."

"He was in my dreams last night. He didn't say anything, but when I woke up this morning I started looking at the wallet and the money and the ticket and I thought of him and decided that he must mean something and be trying to tell me something, so I brought it back."

Father Sam was quiet for a moment, and then nodded his head decisively. "Well good for you." He looked closer at John, inspecting him. "How long you been wearing those clothes?"

"Umm..." John thought for a moment. "I don't really know."

"Well, you made me a hundred dollars richer so I'm going to do the same for you. Let's go."

Father Sam stood up and strode quickly to the patio door, opened it and motioned for

John to come with him.

Six and a half hours later John entered his home under the air vent behind Harris Teeter for the last time ever. He pulled open the plywood door and set it down on the ground before proceeding to enter and pick up the small table. He set the table outside of the nook in the wall and Father Sam picked it up and headed towards the street. John went back in, looked around, and said goodbye to his home, but not before unhooking the cross that was hanging from the wall and putting it in his pocket. He stepped out into the alley, and without looking back, started down the alley.

He got to the street and climbed into the cab where both Father Sam and his table were waiting. The cab took them back to Father Sam's home, which in the past six and a half hours had become John's home as well. John picked up the table and headed inside while Father Sam paid the cab driver.

When they got inside, Father Sam declared that he was beat and was going to bed. "Help yourself to the fridge. The remote to the TV is hidden somewhere in the couch, and you know where your room is, right?"

John nodded, and as Father Sam turned to go to his bedroom, he said a quick "Thank you."

Father Sam turned around, and their eyes met and for the second time in as many days, John felt completely understood. They both smiled and turned and headed towards their rooms.

"Oh. Bathroom's at the end of this hall."

"Thanks."

John stared at the ceiling of his room long into the night. He only knew that he slept because he woke up the next day. That day, Father Sam had taken him to the local thrift shop and bought him a whole new wardrobe of clothes after lunch: three pants, five shirts, and a green pair of Chuck Taylors that just happened to fit perfectly. They had then proceeded to Wal-Mart where they bought a five pack of undershirts and two three packs of boxers, five pairs of socks, deodorant, a double pack of throw-away razors, and a toothbrush.

The toothbrush was the best by far. It was red and the bristles were blue at the tip and white everywhere else. John hadn't brushed his teeth with a real toothbrush in years. He'd used his finger and soap occasionally, but it was really all the apples that had allowed his teeth to survive. They had come home that afternoon for him to clean up and he had brushed his teeth three times and flossed twice before taking a long shower and shaving. When they left again, he got a haircut and they bought a black toboggan before going out to eat again.

It had been while they were eating that Father Sam had asked where he lived. John just shrugged his shoulders and said, "'Around." Father Sam asked again, and for some reason, John just had to tell him. When he did, Father Sam sat quietly for a moment and then drew in his breath to say something, but stopped and exhaled.

They continued eating in silence. Quite suddenly, as if he had to say it at that very moment or he might never ask, Father Sam suddenly offered for John to come and live with him. The complete randomness and surprise of the question caught John so off guard that his true feelings came out with an enthusiastic "Yes!" before he realized exactly what he had said. He almost tried to take it back, but the contented look in Father Sam's eye stopped him, and he just left it at that.

He still couldn't believe it.

He, Jonathan Savvy, who had been twelve cents short on an apple he bought before going home to his wooden hut behind Harris Teeter last night, was now living with the one man he respected in the world in a good, sturdy little brick house. His stomach was full for the first time in weeks, he had clean clothes beside his bed, and he would have food, clothes and shelter tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.

He was dumbfounded.

John was awake the next morning when he heard Father Sam clamber into the shower down the hall. He rose and, for the first time in an eternity, picked out the clothes he was going to wear that day. He put on his green Chucks along with deep blue cords, white socks, a white undershirt, and a light blue button down shirt. He studied himself in the mirror. Clean shaven, well groomed, and well dressed in his own, unique style, he actually admired his looks and he was proud of himself. He felt that this was the beginning of something.

This was the answer to his prayers: his way out of the entrapment of a beggar's life.

And he was right. This was the beginning of something, only he wasn't quite sure and Father Sam hadn't revealed his plans yet. He left his bedroom and went into the living room where he dug through the couch, found the remote, and flipped on the television. He had just sat down when Father Sam entered and asked if he was ready to go. Although wondering about breakfast, he ignored his hunger, stood up, and silently followed Father Sam out the door.

His questions about breakfast were soon answered when Father Sam got into a cab and instructed the driver to go to the nearest diner. Although the diner was packed, it still gave off a feeling of welcome. John ordered scrambled eggs and toast, and Father Sam ordered a cheese omelet. They sat at the bar and were done before they knew it. John still did not know the plans for the day, but he refrained from asking.

"Do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Well, yeah, I think so."

Father Sam's question was unexpected and really quite random, but John had come to expect this and answered without batting an eye.

"Good. We'll go down to the church and grab the spare in the back room. That's how I get around. Cab fare gets expensive real quick and I hate the buses. They smell."

Father Sam left John at St. Patrick's to get in a few laps on his bike while he took a cab home and got his bike. About thirty minutes and four laps later, Father Sam was back and John had recovered the riding legs he had as a kid. Father Sam waved and whizzed on past John, straight down the street. John turned, and was soon riding right behind him.

Had any onlookers known the truth about these two men riding along, it would have made the front page, but as their ignorance of the situation ruled, few pedestrians or drivers even noticed the pair.

A few turns of the street and many turns of the pedals later, the two entered the offices of The Warehouse. Although utterly confused, John followed obediently as Father Sam marched up the front steps, into the offices, and rang the bell at the front desk.

"Hello. I'm Father Sam down at St. Patrick's. How do you do?"

The elderly secretary answered in a warm, friendly voice, "Fine, thank you. What can I do you for today?"

"I understand that one of my parishioners, Thomas Sydney, used to work on your delivery trucks and only a few days ago left the city because of unexpected family problems. I was wondering, is his position still open and may I recommend this fine, outstanding man to fill it?"

Everything suddenly became gleefully clear to John.

"Well yes it is. I'm supposed to place an ad in the paper today, but, well, that isn't absolutely necessary. You look like you just might fit the description."

John was amazed that someone actually thought he was right for a job, someone who might actually employ him. In spite of his amazement and pride, John jumped right in, picking up superbly on his cue. "Well thank you much, ma'am. Name's Johnathan Savvy and although

currently unemployed, I would love to work here."

He didn't ask what he'd be doing, because in all actuality, he really didn't care. It was work, and he could earn his own living once again.

"Well that's just fine. One moment please and I'll go get someone who can properly interview you. If you'll just fill this out in the meantime." She handed him a clipboard with a sheet on it for him to fill out about himself. John gleefully accepted it, and as he sat down, he noticed that Father Sam had quietly taken a seat in a chair in the comer. Their eyes met, and the pride that Father Sam had restored in John's eyes was all the thanks that he'd ever need.

Several minutes later, John looked up and was greeted by a tall, lanky, balding fellow by the name of Ralph. He escorted John back into his office, and escorted him out fifteen minutes later, shook his hand, and said, "The truck leaves in twenty minutes. If you're on it you start today, if not, you can start tomorrow. Good to have you on board."

"I guess you got it then," Father Sam's voice came from the comer of the room. John turned and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'm not real sure what exactly to say to you, other than thanks. So thank you. Thanks a

million times over."

"You're more than welcome," was the reply. "I suppose you were planning on being on that truck, eh?"

John's eyes answered for him.

"Well then Mr. Savvy, I'll be eating at the house about quarter 'til seven if you'd care to join."

I'll be there."

Father Sam turned, and with a twinkle in his eye that challenged the brightness of the glow in John's eyes, climbed onto his bike and headed off. John grabbed a magazine. Ten minutes later he rose and entered a side room that led to the loading dock where his ride was parked.

The Warehouse was an alcoholic beverage dealer. They sold crates of beer, wine, and liquor to various stores throughout the eastern half of the city. John's job, which was simple enough, was to ride along and whenever they stopped, he either unloaded or helped unload the merchandise. At some stops only he got out of the truck, but on bigger orders, both he the driver got out and unloaded crate after crate from the truck to the doors of various stores. It was hard work, but John didn't mind. It was work, and for his first job in years, he was actually getting paid very well. Several dollars more per hour than the Wendy's had offered him.

That night, and for many nights thereafter, John would lie in bed and the tears would rise to his eyes and just flow down his cheeks. The sense of pride that had been restored in him was untouchable, and John thanked both God and Father Sam for that daily.

Over the next few months, John's life and Father Sam's life both underwent changes and improvements. The two men took to each other like a babe to its mother. The two stayed up until the wee hours of the morning discussing matters of heart, soul, and everyday life on many occasions. John's job blossomed a few weeks later when the driver of the truck dropped a crate on his foot and shattered several bones, relinquishing him to crutches for six weeks. John was promoted to driver, and a new man was hired to take his spot. The position of driver came with not only a real uniform but also a significant pay increase and benefits. The old driver took well to a desk position, and John's job was in safe hands for as long as his body could stand the work.

The first few weeks were backbreaking work to John's out-of-shape body, but he welcomed the physical pain as it proved to him that he was really doing something with his life now. Soon, he regained his physical endurance and the work flew by.

Happy memories soon replaced the depressing and hopeless ones that had long filled his mind. Memories of long talks with his new friend over many a meal, memories of work, memories of J.D., his partner on deliveries whom he had also taken to very nicely. Memories that were filled with happiness and a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment.

It was several months later when Father Sam and John entered the Harris Teeter across from the church to buy food for a dinner for the homeless that evening. John sensed it as they turned the comer from the frozen foods section to go to the checkout: he sensed her. As they approached the checkout, John took the lead and led them to the checkout line where she worked.

It had only been months, but it seemed like an eternity since he'd seen her. It was the girl that had let him take the apple that night and who had understood his pain. When they laid out their items on the counter for her, his eyes met hers, and although she didn't recognize him, the look she gave him, a little crooked smile and raised eyebrows, let him know that she sensed something about him.

They never said a word to each other.

"Out with it," Father Sam demanded as soon as they were out of earshot of the girl.

John feigned ignorance but couldn't conceal the smile on his face, and eventually, after a little prodding by Father Sam, was forced to reveal the entire story.

It came out when they got home. He had been silent on the sidewalk as they crossed the street to the church, silent in the church as they cooked the meal for the homeless, silent as they served the meal and silent as they cleaned up. He was silent on the ride home, but when they entered the house and sat down, Father Sam asked again, and he couldn't continue his silence.

John started from that day in church. He told about how he'd had no money, and how she'd given him the apple anyway. How she'd understood him, and how he'd left with a new in feeling in his heart and fallen asleep that night in a vast sea of confusion. Father Sam was quiet the whole time. He only smiled and nodded.

At the end of his tale, Father Sam sat quietly for a few moments, reflecting. He slowly rose to his feet and said, in a very powerful yet quiet voice, "Go for it my friend. Love knows no boundaries," and with that, he left the room and went to bed.

At the moment, John was too lost in thoughts of Annie to notice the look on Father Sam's face or the stoop of his shoulders, but it didn't take long. He first noticed it several nights later when he came home at six thirty to get; Father Sam's advice on how he should go about asking her out, only to find him sound asleep in bed. When he asked him about the next day, his only reply was that he was tired, but the fatigue seemed to come from deeper within him than it should have. Father Sam's eyes were sunken and his whole appearance seemed worn and ragged. For once the former bum was more alive and healthier than the priest.

He finally questioned Father Sam about his appearance a couple of weeks later. They were watching the Late Night Show when Father Sam had an obscenely long coughing fit, which was no longer unusual for him. John merely looked at him when he had recovered his breath and he answered with one word: no denials, no long stories. The question was understood explicitly and the answer was explicitly simple.

"Cancer."

Pause.

"When did you know?"

Pause.

"About a week before you found my wallet."

Pause.

"What do the doctors say?"

Pause.

"I should have been hospitalized yesterday according to their charts."

"Do you ... ?"

"No. Thank you, but no. I'll stay right here and keep on living until I move onto living in the next world. No hospitals."

John rose and walked towards his friend. Father Sam stood. The two men embraced as only the savior and the saved can John understood what he wanted, and Father Sam knew that John knew. Words were useless. With his cheeks still wet from tears, Father Sam turned and went to bed. John sat back down, dazed. He stared at the television but saw nothing. He held the remote, but felt nothing. He drank his drink, but tasted nothing. His body was alive, but death had just chilled his heart.

The two men never spoke of it again.

The next day, John rode down to the Harris Teeter. He walked in and there she was. Even from the doorway he could feel her. She looked up, and their eyes met and locked as he approached her. She smiled, and as he drew nearer, her smile grew.

"If you don't mind, may I ask what time you get off?"

She smiled at him and he felt something melt inside him.

"Give me ten minutes."

He turned and found a bench near the doorway. She left her register about five minutes later, and when she came back, she was wearing a long, brown skirt and a light, brown blouse, both of which were obviously worn but still in good condition. It wasn't the clothes, or her gait, or her body that truly got John. It was the faded crimson ribbons that she had tied in her hair to hold it back. She stopped before him, and her deep brown eyes locked on his.

"Hi. I'm John."

"Annie.

"Yeah. I know."

He put a finger to his chest and her confusion lifted. Her name tag.

"Would you care to eat dinner at my house tonight?"

Her lips curved upwards and the light radiated from her eyes. "Yes. I'd like that very much."

He rose from the bench and took her hand, leading her outside. She simply pointed at her feet when they got outside to answer John's question of how she got there. He grabbed his bike and hailed a cab, cramming the two of them and the bike into the back seat of the cab.

"2027 Westwood Bend."

They didn't speak on the ride home, but they never let go of each other's hands either.

"Thanks. Keep the change."

John led Annie inside and found Father Sam sitting on the couch with a blanket over him.

"Annie, this is Father Sam. He's the priest down at St. Patrick's."

Father Sam knew who she was and needed no introduction. "Pleased to meet you.

John's said a lot about you."

"I have?"

"He has?"

"Well, yes. Just not in words."

The understanding between them was complete. John motioned and Annie took a seat while he set off on the task of creating dinner.

"Eaten yet?"

Father Sam shook his head "No."

John left and entered the kitchen. He was slicing carrots, potatoes and chicken for chicken pot pie when he called to Annie, "You don't recognize me, do you.?"

She looked up from her seat. "Somehow I do, but I don't know where."

John smiled. "I was twelve cents short on an apple a few months ago." He didn't need to turn around to see her recognition.

Annie rose and entered the kitchen. John turned, and their eyes met. She walked towards him, and their lips met, once, softly.

Before Father Sam left for bed that night, John caught him in the hallway. "I just wanted you to meet her." Father Sam nodded approvingly, understandingly, and happily.

"Amor vincit omnia" was all he said.

The two men embraced, both understanding and receiving the other's thanks, both very happy.

The rising sun brought both life and death to the small house at 2027 Westwood Bend the next morning. At one end, John and Annie woke side by side, and at the other end, Father Sam was never to awaken in this world again.

Although he didn't need to go into Father Sam's room to know, John did anyway. The rays of sunlight struck his closed eyelids, and upon his chest lay a plain white envelope. It wasn't sealed. He opened it and found two sheets of paper, one typed and the other handwritten in Father Sam's familiar scribble. He read the typed page first:

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

I, Father Samuel Clayborn, do make and publish this my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all Wills and Codicils heretofore made by me. I give, devise and bequeath all of my property, both real and personal, of every sort and wheresoever situated to my friend, Johnathan Savvy.

He glanced down to the bottom of the paper:

Total assets to be passed on to the sole beneficiary, Johnathan Savvy: $15 million.

He set the paper down and turned and looked out the window. The sun was rising in the sky and life everywhere else continued normally. He heard the door opened, followed by a short gasp. Annie had come in, and she approached John. He pointed to the paper on the bed as he began to read the letter.

Dear John,

I suppose if you are reading this then I have moved on. It was a pleasure knowing you. You have been my only friend over these past few months save for God, and you have made my final months some of the happiest ones of my life.

I owe you more than a few explanations, so here goes.

I did not lose my wallet. I placed it there for you to find. I put it there as you were praying and eating your apple. It was just fate that caused you to step on it. I put only my address in it so you wouldn't know who I was when you found it, and the money and lottery ticket were just to test you to see what kind of man you were. I had seen you at church many times, and you seemed to truly understand not only life, but also religion. I was desperately searching for a friend, and you seemed to be my best hope, but I knew it would never work if we didn't meet under different circumstances than priest to parishioner, which is why I left the wallet for you to find. It was just dumb luck that the ticket won. I guess it was God's way of saying, "Good choice. "

Anyway, on the same day that I was diagnosed with cancer, I also received news that my Uncle Julius had died and left me 15 million dollars as part of his estate. I am the only one left in my line of the family, so I would have no one to pass on this money to. This lack of a proper heir gave me a good excuse to find the friend that I needed more than any amount of money.

I want my money to be used for good causes, and I trust that you will honor that will. I figured that you deserve to live the rest of your life in comfort, and so does Annie. (By the way, I think she's absolutely perfect. I'll be checking on you two from time to time.)

I figured that nobody needed money more than you did when you found my wallet, but you still somehow managed to do the right thing. Because of your experiences, I believe that you will be able to use this money to help people much like yourself more than any charity or church ever could, so I give you the rest of your life's work: helping others. I truly hope you accept this task and enjoy it.

I can't thank you enough for what you have done. You have taken me out of my isolation and allowed me to live and really enjoy life in these final, passing moments.

And just knowing what kind of man you are and what you would want to say to me right now, You're Welcome. You are more than welcome for the money and love and friendship and good times and everything that we have shared and experienced and I just hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

I must go, for time is fleeting. I give you my love and know that I will always be with you.

With love,

Father Sam

John looked out the window again, and as he felt Annie's arms wrap around him, he knew that he needed no comfort. He was happy, and Father Sam was happy, and although he already missed him, he knew that he would see him again someday.

"Oh, um, do you know what Amor vincit omnia means?"

"Love conquers all. Why?"

John just smiled and laughed. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, knowing he would never be able to explain it to her. He hugged her close to him before turning to go into the kitchen. Before long, the sizzle of scrambled eggs filled the house as the sun streamed in through the windows.

This electronic edition © 2000 The Wade Edwards Foundation