The Most Precious Gift

By WritePassion

Sam sat on the couch, a cardboard box open before him on the coffee table. When it arrived, his first thought was to check to see if it was wired to blow because he didn't recognize the return address or the handwriting on the label. Working with Michael and Fiona was making him paranoid, but it kept him alive, and after all, he had a family to protect now. Once he determined that the package was harmless, he opened it and part of him wished he hadn't. Inside he found stacks of letters he sent his mother over the years while he was in the Navy and afterwards, with huge gaps in his history where he was deep undercover, when smuggling a letter to her could have cost him his life. She kept every one and must have read those that were few and far between much more often, because they showed wear and tear when he pulled a few out of their envelopes.

He set aside the letters and reached into the box. Every momento he ever sent her was inside, and as he pulled out each one, it reminded him of good times and bad, and how much he enjoyed searching for the ultimate gift to give her. She must have thought they were special, because she saved them all these years. As he swiped away a few tears, he reached the bottom and found a sealed envelope with his name on it. He studied the handwriting. It was hers. Not sure what he would find inside, Sam used his pocket knife to carefully slice it open. A sheet of paper slipped out.

My dear Samuel,

Over the years you have given me a lot of trinkets and treasures from your travels, and I loved every one of them because they came from you. As you grew up, I prayed that you wouldn't follow in your father's footsteps. But I loved you enough to not stand in your way when you felt you had to prove something to him, and you joined the Navy. I resented your father even more for lighting that fire in you and causing you to leave, but I'm also very proud of you and what you've accomplished.

I was so glad that you came to see me last Christmas. I was too afraid to tell you, but somehow I think you knew that the time we had left was so short. The week you stayed made up for all the time you were gone, and I thank God that he brought you home to me one last time. They tell me that my life is like a ticking bomb, and that any day may be my last. I just laugh, because isn't that true for everyone? I only hope that you learned something from my infirmity, that you are as thankful as I am for every day we've been given, and that you make the most of the time you have left.

Stay safe, and never forget that I love you.

Mom

Sam could barely see the last words on the page, so he closed his eyes and remembered the last Christmas he visited her two years previous. He hadn't seen his mother since well before the ill-fated mission to Columbia that cost him his commission and landed him in Miami. He was long overdue. She still lived in the little cottage in Norfolk, even though Sam hadn't been stationed there for a long time. If he tried really hard, he could still feel her slim arms wrap around his neck and give him a weak hug. That was his first clue that she was sick. He'd been willing to believe that her aged face was just a side-effect of time, and that she was pale because she spent so much time indoors. But she was dying, and she didn't have the heart to say so. Instead, she mustered up the strength to spend a glorious week with him at the beach, talking about a lot of things, his father in particular.

"Promise me one thing, Samuel, before you go back to your lady friends and leisurely life," she said before he left. "Don't let the baggage of the past tie you down, because a spirit of resentment only hurts the one who bears it. Free yourself from that bondage, let go of the anger you feel for your father. Forgive him, and you'll find your load a lot lighter."

He thought a lot about that when he left, but by the time the plane touched down in Miami he was back to his old life, old hurts, and the old Sam Axe method for drowning them: booze and women. He'd managed to convince himself that he was a lost cause so he might as well have fun speeding down the road to ruin. Every now and then he called home to see how Mom was doing, but eventually it was too painful to listen to her weakening voice so he stopped calling.

"Sweetheart, what's in the box?"

Sam's head shot up and he bore a guilty look on his face as Yvette came into the room with Samuel balanced on her hip. He quickly gathered up the letters and trinkets and shoved them back into the box.

"It's nothing. Just stuff from my mom."

"Your mom? You never told me she was alive."

"She's...she's not doing well." He hung his head. "The other day I got an e-mail from her attorney, telling me she that she's in a nursing home in Norfolk, and then this box arrived." He paused and looked up at her. "I don't know what kind of estate she has, or if she's leaving me anything. I don't really care. I just wish..." He let out a deep sigh as she sat beside him and ran a comforting hand over his back. "I need to see her one more time, and I should take you along. You and Samuel. I want her to see her grandson, to show her..." He looked at Yvette with a serious expression. "Show her that I didn't screw up my life."

Yvette smiled broadly. "So, what's stopping you? Let's go!"