The Treasure Boy

By Jeff Lombardo

Jack Warren is a remarkable boy. His kindness, resourcefulness, and courage affect the lives of his family and many of the people in his neighborhood. It seems that whenever he does something to show his affection for a person, they reward him with unimaginable treasures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Lombardo
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869329073

Book preview

THE TREASURE BOY

by

Jeff Lombardo

Copyright © 2024All Rights Reserved.

About the Author

Jeff Lombardo, originally from Chicago, attended Pepperdine University in Los Angeles. There, he graduated twice, earning a Bachelor of Arts in Theatre with a minor in Physical Education, and a Master Degree in Education. His career was spent writing in the field of educational theatre, acting in St Petersburg, and as a therapist for children with a variety of emotional and physical challenges. He hopes you will enjoy ‘The Treasure Boy’, and will be inspired to be a more caring young adult.

Table of Contents

About the Author

Chapter 1

The Dream

Chapter 2

The Maiden Voyage

Chapter 3

Dinner at the Pink Palace

Chapter 4

The Aftermath

Chapter 5

Chug Chug’s Crew

Chapter 6

Gold and Garnets

Chapter 7

Elena

Chapter 8

Some Roaring 1920’s Magic

Chapter 9

Back to Elena’s

Chapter 10

What Next?

Chapter 11

Second Time Around

Chapter 12

An Almost Perfect Life

Chapter 13

Fall

Chapter 14

Winter

Chapter 15

Spring

DEDICATION

Chapter 1

The Dream

Most old men do not dream of themselves as old men. They dream of their youth, of their virile selves, their dashing selves, their ‘I will live forever’ selves. They do not dream of wrinkles and weathered skin or of aching joints or stiff necks. They dream of childhood home runs and soaring dunks, of racing to the endzone for a touchdown. They dream of pretty girls and lost love. They dream of the past with all its sadness and glory. However, 72-year-old Buck Warren was different. His beloved hobby kept him focused on what treasure he found today and what he might find tomorrow.

At night, after walking for hours, he would make himself a light snack, watch some news, and then fall asleep in his king-size bed. In a deep sleep, his wondrous dreams began. Rings, watches, bracelets, necklaces, coins, currency, pocket knives, lighters, cigarette cases, keys, cell phones, and sunglasses were the things he saw when the shades of his waking life were drawn.  Buck appeared in most of his dreams, always walking, and the effervescent hunter who believed that unknown treasure lay in the next step. He also believed that the more he walked, the more treasure he would find.

Buck also had a favorite dream. It was a recurring one that had entertained him over a hundred times. He was relaxing in his cozy living room easy chair one night after a long day of walking and hunting when all the lost money in the world began picking itself out of its hiding place, became airborne, and began flying in a direct route to his modest home.

First, the back bedroom was filled with treasure. The money came through the roof as if the roof did not exist. The movement of treasures into the house was soundless until it clanked onto the enormous pile it was becoming. The clinking was noisy. Buck rose from his brown recliner and walked toward the commotion. He arrives at the doorway, and his chin drops every time.

One partially filled room would have made him a millionaire, but the rain of money continued. Suddenly, with the superpower of dreams, Buck was able to see the origins of the lifting of coins from earth to air. Long buried underwater chests in sunken pirate ships opened themselves, their booties soaring upward toward the sky. Ancient coins from around the world fought their way out of centuries of compacted earth and flew to Buck’s house. Lost gold chains from thousands of swimmers rose from oceans, lakes, and rivers and joined the flying riches. In a dream instant, Buck stood outside his house. Every room was filled with treasures of all kinds. The back and front yards were also filled with booty. The hills that had formed rose to a height of 20 feet and extended to the exact point of all his property lines. Dream Buck was always ecstatic while experiencing this subconscious fantasy and it motivated him for his next day of walking and hunting. There, the dream would always end until a few nights or weeks later. Buck would be standing there, flabbergasted and unmeasurably happy. 

In real-time, treasure hunting was in second place for Buck. In the first place was love. Love trumped everything else for him. If he did not feel love for someone, he did not pursue them. If he did not feel love for something or activity, he did not pursue it.

The problem with Buck was that he was an extremely good man who believed that love and nurturing a loving nature was the most important approach to life that a man could have.

Since he was a boy, he found himself trying to love everything, to be curious about everything, and to give everyone a chance to be a friend, no matter their skin color or slant of eyes. He was, therefore, a curious man, a man who extended himself to people and helped them when they needed it. Fortunately, he met the love of his life along the way. Together, they shared a similar kind of life, living, loving, sharing, and learning through over 40 years of married life.

Her name was Mary Chase Warren.

She was, to Buck, a beauty beyond compare. But she was gone now. Leukemia took her away at the age of 63. Now, Buck was alone. However, Buck and Mary are a different story. She had died, but Buck had not changed his philosophy of life. 

At the time this story began, Buck was about to do something exciting. Buck’s son, Marty, lived in Tampa. He was a caring mental health and competency criminal lawyer, a good father, and a good husband; though he wished he could have more time to spend with his family. He was much like his father, a good, strong man who believed in love despite the horrors of life that his profession constantly placed before him.

Marty’s pride and joy was his son, Jack. He was a wonderful, precocious child who was very close to his father, his mother, Christine, and his grandfather, Buck. About every three weeks or so, Christine would drive Jack to St. Pete and drop him off at Buck’s, where he would spend all or part of the weekend. About every month or so, Buck would drive to Tampa and spend the weekend with his son’s family. These travel and stay-over arrangements worked well for all four participants.

Jack was turning nine this Saturday, and Buck was planning to give him a special gift. It was a metal detector. There was no doubt in Buck’s mind that Jack would take to it as if he had met a new best friend.

The metal detector was sweet. It was a Nokta MACRO SIMPLEX plus, a Turkish model with all the bells and whistles, which, when stood upright, reached a level of about four feet. It was lightweight with a headset and could detect down to about 200 feet deep in the water. A detector could walk in shallow water and still hear its detecting sounds, but once the electronics compartment was submerged, the detector needed to wear the headset. It was shiny and black. Buck bought it from Meyer’s Printing in Tampa. That Phillip Meyer’s was a heck of a metal detector.

No matter how many months ahead Buck started planning his surprise; Jack’s birthday seemed to come swiftly. Buck had arranged for Marty and Christine to have a party for Jack with Grandpa, who lived 10 minutes from the beach in St. Pete. As expected, the long box wrapped in birthday paper had Jack’s eye from the moment he walked through Grandpa’s front door. He was barely controllable. He raced through the front door and ran straight for the long white box with the big red bow. He did not rip open the white wrapping paper, but he shook the box and listened, hearing nothing and remaining clueless as to what might be inside. His Dad caught up with him.

Whoa, boy! We’ve got to have dinner first, have your birthday cake, then open your presents.

OK, Dad.

Jack had not seen any other presents until he began to look around the room. There were about 10 boxes, each wrapped in various shades of solid-colored birthday paper.

Oh my gosh. I am so lucky. Hi grandpa.

Hi, Jack, he said as Jack walked to him and gave him a hug.

Wow, boy. That’s what I have been missing all week.

Everyone said their hellos, sharing genuine affection with one another. After that, the three adults moved to the kitchen to begin preparing Jack’s favorite dinner: steak, peas and macaroni and cheese. Jack sat on the couch, flipping through channels while his easy dinner was being prepared.

Thirty minutes later, it was ready. Everyone gathered at the dining room table and within 15 minutes, dinner was finished and Christine, who was often called Christy, went into the cozy kitchen to pull out the ice cream cake. Jake would never remember the small talk of that early evening with his family, but he had no idea what was coming that would change his life forever. 

At least a hundred times while eating dinner and the ice cream cake; Jack lifted his eyes to the long box with the white wrapping paper and red bow. It was resting on the couch in full view. It was not going anywhere, but Jack wanted to make sure of that. He could not stop thinking about what might be inside. By the time Happy Birthday had been sung and the family had relished their hearty portion of ice cream cake, Jack was ready to open his presents.

Christy, I’ll help you clean the table while Jack and Dad go into the living room, Marty said. We’ll see you guys in a few minutes, OK?

Jack went into the living room, sat on the couch, and put the long white box on his lap, ignoring the other presents. A few minutes later, Marty and Christine came into the living room, smiling, and sat in two comfortable recliners.

OK, buddy boy, it’s time to open your presents, Marty said. Which one do you want to start with? Can I open this one that’s on my lap? Jack asked enthusiastically. 

Sure, Marty said, with a twinkle in his eye. But there are lots of other smaller presents here. Don’t you want to save the biggest one for last?

I can’t wait to open this one, Dad. If I don’t, I think I’ll go crazy.

OK, little boy, Marty said lovingly. It’s your birthday. It’s your choice.

Jack began ripping the wrapping paper. It was double-layered, but Jack tore through it easily. Grandpa Buck sat quietly at the other end of the couch with a smug look on his tanned face. He knew he had nailed it, buying an incredible gift for his grandson. In a moment, his beloved little friend would discover what was in the box. He sat there reveling in the moment, almost as excited as the birthday boy. When the paper was off, Jack opened one end of the box with extreme care. His small hands broke open the cardboard lid and reached inside. He pulled out some brown packing paper and tossed it aside. The little boy’s eyes followed his hands into the box.

Several inches inside, he saw something black and sleek. He grabbed a rounded edge and pulled it toward himself. Out slid a brand-new metal detector. Jack knew what it was immediately. He had walked with his grandfather dozens of times while Buck walked with his long Stingray 2, which he bought three years ago for $750.

Occasionally, they crossed paths with another man or woman treasure hunter. If it felt right, Buck engaged the hunter as to how their finding luck was going and what kind of equipment they were using. Jack was always listening and learning curiously. The tales the treasure hunters told, and the tiny trinkets fascinated him and coins they pulled out of their pockets or purses fascinated him. For a moment, it was like ‘show and tell’ in school, but more exciting. These detectors were proud. The exchanges with Buck were always interesting and Jack was glad to be there.

Then came the talk about the metal detector itself. Things usually became a little technical at this point of the chance encounters, but Jack was still fascinated as each treasure hunter showed off his machine. Jack remembered hearing many name brands. Some stuck in his head, but after three years of these special walks with Buck, he certainly would have a brand name memorized if he heard it two or three times. 

There was no greater thrill for Jack than when Buck handed his Stingray to him to use by himself. The detector was heavy for Jack, but he figured out quickly, at the age of six, that he could swing the device easily over the earth if he held it with two hands. He remembered how happy he was when he found his first nickel while walking with his grandfather. The sand-crusted coin was detected on Madeira Beach. He was seven years old. 

Now you are an official metal detector, Buck said. I am so proud of you. Now, do you see how much fun it is to find something?"

I sure do, Gramps. This is super. I almost can’t believe it.

Believe it, Jack. That nickel is your first of many finds. By the time you reach my age, you will have found a small mountain of wonderful things.

Jack would never forget that moment.

Jack’s mind came back to the present.

This detector is beautiful, Gramps. It’s a lot lighter than yours, too.

That is one important reason I bought it for you, Jack. I knew you would be able to handle it easily and take it anywhere with you. Guess where it was made?

The USA?

You are way off with that guess, birthday boy. Believe it or not, it was made in Turkey!

Turkey? Christine shouted with surprise.

That’s right, Christy, Buck answered. The guy I bought it from told me while I was comparing models. I was as surprised as you are.

Look at these cool pictures, Jack said as he studied the control panel.

The tiny pictures represent the types of ground you will metal detect, the proud, handsome grandfather said pleasantly. I will go over the manual with you little by little and over time, you will learn how all the bells and whistles work." 

There’s bells and whistles, Gramps?

Not really, Jack. Bells and whistles are a phrase that means all the knobs, gadgets and features this black beauty has to offer.

Black Beauty? I just read that book a few months ago. That is a great name. It fits my new detector perfectly. Black Beauty. What do you think?

I love it, Christy chirped.

I think it’s super, his daddy said, smiling broadly, enjoying his son’s happiness.

I think it’s magical, Jack. I can see Black Beauty sweeping over the land at full gallop, kicking up treasures high into the air with her mighty hooves. Can you see it, Jack? Can you see it?

I can, Grandpa. I really can, Jack said, his imagination soaring.

"What do you say we christen it, Jack?

What is that Grandpa?

It is a baptism of sorts, Jack, Christy spoke up. They do it with ships when they are brand new. A designated official is given an unopened bottle of Champagne and before she smashes it against the stern, she says something like, ‘I hereby christen you the Marmalade Queen’, then wham, bottle meets steel, and the ship sets off on its maiden voyage.

The ceremony is designed to bid good luck and fortune upon the ship, Dad chimed in. It’s like when a baby is baptized. The priest prays to keep it protected from evil."

Christine and Marty loved to teach Jack new things. And Jack loved being taught by them.

OK, kids, Buck said, grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat, it’s time for the big event. Excuse me a moment, he said as he stood to leave the room.

What is he up to now, Marty? Christine asked, smiling.

You mean, besides the fact that he is 72 years old, I have no earthly clue.

At the refrigerator, Buck pulled out a bottle of Japanese plum wine. He wasted no time returning to the living room. OK, everybody, come here and hold this brand-new metal detector while I do the honors. 

Marty and Christine rose from their chairs and joined Jack, holding the machine that would soon find things in mid-air.

Now, don’t you worry, Marty. I promise I am not going to break the bottle and have glass and wine flying all over the place. Are we cool, son?

We’re cool, Dad, Buck's ruggedly handsome son answered. Now go ahead and do your thing.

Jack, by the power invested in me, by myself, because I am your grandfather, and I am having a blast, I now christen this metal detector, Black Beauty. He tapped the plum wine bottle against the top of the detector. May all your voyages be profitable. Now, Christine and Marty, will you please remove your hands from Black Beauty so that Jack can take her out on her maiden voyage?"

Marty and Christine complied and returned to their comfortable chairs and Jack lowered Black Beauty to the floor while maintaining his grip.

Grandpa, can we take Black Beauty on her maiden voyage later today? Jack asked pleadingly.

It’s OK with me, Jack, but it depends on your mom and Dad. Would you two like to spend the night while Jack and I go metal detecting?

Jack’s loving parents looked at one another. Marty winked. Christy smiled.

Sure, Dad, we’ll stay, Christy said, knowing that Buck’s second bedroom upstairs would be comfortably ready for them.

That settles it, then. But Jack, you have a bunch more presents to open and I would like to open this bottle of wine too. I bought it to share with all of you, but I never thought I would be christening a metal detector before I opened it.

Does that mean I can have some wine too, gramps?

That depends on your parents also, Jack. You are ten years old now. What do you think, Marty, maybe a couple of sips?

OK, Christy? Marty checked with his wife.

She winked again. Jack, you can have a couple of sips.

You make sure those sips are reasonable, OK?"

I promise, Marty. But first, I want Jack to open more presents.

Sure, Gramps. I almost forgot they were there.

Jack’s already rosy face flushed even more red as he felt a tinge of embarrassment. The grown-ups chuckled as Jack began to open his next gift. Beneath the wrapping were three large sketchbooks. They were gifts from Christine, who knew how fond Jack was of drawing. She believed he had a talent for doing so, and she encouraged it. 

Who bought me this? Jack asked, thrilled at this gift.

I did, Christy answered.

Jack leaped across the space between him and his mom in a single bound, hugged her gently and kissed her twice on the left cheek.

Thanks, Mom. I love sketchbooks. I can’t wait to use them. 

Then he bounded effortlessly back across the room to the stack of seven remaining presents that rested invitingly next to the couch. Jack opened the next package, which was wrapped in baby blue paper decorated with a myriad of multicolored balloons. Beneath the festive wrapping was a large plastic container filled with forty-eight drawing pencils of assorted colors. They were the perfect complement for the three sketchbooks. 

Who bought me these? he asked curiously.

I did, Marty spoke up smartly. Your mom and I were a tag team in the store. She bought the sketchbooks, and I bought the pencils.

Jack bounded across the room again, this time to his Dad, who was sitting closer to him than Christy was.

He did the same thing to his Dad that he had done to his mom a moment before. He hugged him, thanked him, and kissed him twice on the left cheek. Affection flowed fluidly between father, mother, son, and grandfather. In fact, Jack had never been spanked. Marty, Christine, and Buck were kind, caring, well-balanced, and logical. They were reasoners. If Jack misbehaved, as all little boys do, his parents, or grandparents merely explained what he had done wrong and why it was not acceptable behavior. Jack understood the message each time he was educated this way by his elders.

Jack’s unwrapping continued. In a brief time, the couch was covered with pants, shirts, blue jeans, and belts. It was a colorful mini wardrobe for a boy who was quickly outgrowing his clothes. A tiny box was opened, revealing a Lionel Train watch, whose distinctive features included a tiny train with an engine, a coal car, and three passenger cars that went around and round where the second hand would normally be. Press a small button located to the right of the two, and all kinds of sounds associated with trains emanate.

It was a wonderful present that Jack had worn for several years.

Finally, after a half hour of fun for all, there were no more presents to be opened.

Can we have some of that plum wine now, gramps?

Not so fast, little guy. I have a couple more things to share with you.

Buck left the living room and walked into the kitchen. He opened a high cabinet door above the stove and pulled out a box that was covered with solid, sky-blue wrapping paper and a red bow. He returned to the living room, box in hand.

Here we go, Jack. One more for you to open.

Marty and Christine relaxed patiently while Jack excitedly received the box from his grandfather and best friend. Jack sized up the box. It was not heavy, and its dimensions measured twelve by twelve by twelve." He started peeling back the paper. Wood. A big box. He pulled the box from its temporary home. Was there anything inside? No. Jack, who had not noticed the beautiful Egyptian carvings on the top and sides of the box, asked his next question with some disappointment.

Grandpa, what is this box for?

That, Jack, is your very own treasure box or treasure chest. Anything you find that you want to, you can put into your treasure chest. It will always be your decision, of course, but if you put your coins into it, you will be able to watch their numbers grow. In addition, you will be able to show people what you have found when they ask you if you ever find anything. You may choose not to put the gold and silver you find in there. They can be sold for good money.

Wow, Grandpa. Will you teach me how to sell the good stuff when I find it? I sure will, Jack.

Jack looked at his new treasure box and fantasized about what kind of things he would put into it. Would they really be treasures? What was a real treasure anyhow?"

Jack, Buck said after all the presents had been looked at and appreciated, there is one more gift I would like to give you. From now on, you can call me Buck. No more grandpa, Gramps, or granddad. Are you sure, Dad?" Marty and Christine asked in tandem.

I am surer that sure can be, Buck said with positivity. ‘Grandpa’ makes me feel old, and I feel young and healthy, more like a good buddy or a best friend to Jack. Besides that, I love the sound of Buck. That is who I am, Buck: young, healthy, robust and full of life. I will bet my name will flow super well-off Jack’s lips, Buck. He cracked his name off briskly. Not grandpa, gramps, or that granddad stuff, Buck said the words he did not want Jack to speak derisively, and Jack got the point. 

Are you sure about that, Dad? Marty asked quickly again.

Marty, I am surer than I can be sure, Buck said, all smiles.

OK, Dad, but it may take some time for Christy and me to get used to hearing Jack say Buck all the time.

"Marty, calling me Buck will be a whole lot better than if I told him he could call me my real name, Buster. Buster Johnson. I hated the name Buster.

I always liked that name, Dad, Christy remarked. It’s got some life to it, some pop. It reminds me of Buster Posey, the catcher for the Giants.

Oh, I know him well. He’s a great ballplayer, maybe even a Hall of Famer, but I always felt sorry for him because he got stuck with the same rotten name as mine. I’m Buck Johnson now and I have been Buck since I was a teenager. I chose the name because I thought it had some life to it, some pop. ‘Grandpa’ came along late in my life, and I never got used to it. Come on now, Jack, ask me a question, any question and call me by my nickname.

OK, sir, Jack said nervously. Buck, can we go metal detecting now while there’s still some daylight?"

Very good boy. If it’s OK with your mom and Dad, of course, we can, but let’s include this birthday party with some plum wine.

Buck served a glass of the tasty wine to Marty, Christine, and himself and poured Jack’s sips into a Tampa Bay Buccaneer shot glass. He served the festive drink pretending to be a waiter-captain from a fancy New York restaurant. Everyone enjoyed their drink, especially Jack, who took baby sips with great delight, measuring each droplet as if it were liquid purple gold.

For the next 20 minutes, smiles darted around the room like slapped hockey pucks. The well-bonded family loved each other dearly and celebrated birthdays with a special flare that made them vastly different from the regular days of their lives. 

We’re going upstairs for a well-deserved nap, Marty said, slapping his minuscule stomach, while you boys go out. He and Christy walked to Buck and kissed him on the cheek.

See you in a couple of hours, Christine said, her brown eyes sparkling from the afternoon’s activities. Finally, and one at a time, Marty and Christine bent down to kiss and say goodbye to Jack. 

Happy birthday, son, Marty said, with a peck on Jack’s cheek.

Thanks, Dad.

Happy birthday, Jack, Christy said, then left some Revlon lipstick on his cheek with her kiss. Then she grabbed Marty’s strong right hand, and the couple disappeared upstairs.

Buck and Jack took the empty wine glasses to the kitchen and cleaned them. At last, it was time for the two metal detectors to leave Buck’s house for the secrets that may lie beneath a nearby beach's sands.

Chapter 2

The Maiden Voyage

Pass-A-Grille was luxurious in the late afternoon. Jack took his first walk there with Black Beauty. A warm block of air sat still above the sand like a shawl on a woman’s shoulders. A large crowd from earlier in the day had dwindled to about half its size. Many of the remaining had come to the tiny peninsula to eat dinner at a local restaurant after watching the sunset. There was absolutely no chop on the water. It was as smooth as a glass floor you could dance upon.

Buck parked his Buick Century ten spaces from the north end of the snack shack, paid for two hours of parking, and then came back to the car to retrieve his Stingray Two and his long steel scooper. Jack was reaching for Black Beauty when Jack stopped him.

You can’t get far in the find game without this little jewel, Jack, he said while handing Jack the silver scooper he had used for many years. "I thought about buying you a new scooper, but this one looks and works like it has never been used. It’s perfect for you because you don’t have far to bend over to scoop your targets. This belongs to you now, Jack. Take care of it. These small scoopers are easy to forget when you’re finished metal detecting at the end of a day.

Thanks, Gran… I mean Buck. I promise I will be careful with it.

"That little helper will scoop up many treasures for you in the coming years, Buddy Boy. What do you say we get started?

Buck had been thoughtful and charged Black Beauty before giving it to Jack, so the new metal machine was ready to hunt. Buck and Jack stepped onto the sand immediately to the north of the snack shack. A few feet to the south and east of the shack, a guitarist in his fifties was singing an old Jimmy Buffet song. Almost all the picnic tables were occupied with people of all nationalities and ages enjoying a beer or soda to go along with their burgers and fries.

A half-hour earlier, several carefree souls had been playing the two-cornhole games that rested near the wooden entrance ramp to the beach. Now the games were dormant and the area around the games would be great to detect. Jack began sweeping Black Beauty a few inches above the sand. Less than a minute later, Black Beauty picked up something that registered 64 on the screen. Jack centered the object beneath the disc at the end of the metal, then bent down and scooped the sand. Next, he started shaking the sand out of the scooper. It was a process he had performed hundreds of times while hunting for treasures with Buck. This time, the object at the bottom of the scooper was a sand-crusted penny.

Buck, I got one. It’s a penny. Jack called his grandpa and best friend. 

Buck, who was only a few feet from Jack, quickly closed the distance between his grandson and best friend.

Let me take a look at that, the proud Buck said.

It’s beautiful, he said as he looked at the ugly coin. What are you going to do with it?"

I’m going to put it in my treasure box, Buck. It will be my first coin in the box.

That’s what I like to hear, my boy. Now, let’s keep walking and see what else we find.

Walk, they did. Both Jack and Buck silently reflected on how much fun and what a thrill it was to find a single penny. They also did not find much, but just enough for them to walk more and for each person to believe there might be treasure in the next step.

Remember, Jack, Buck injected after neither man nor boy had spoken for several minutes, a truly good metal detector must have an extremely patient heart.

I know that, Buck. I think I have one.

I think you do too, Jack. You come from good stock. Your parents are patient people, and you know how patient I am. I can walk outside for hours. I want you to understand that you should never be discouraged if you don’t find anything for a couple of hours. Even if you go a whole day without finding something, you must always believe that a treasure might be in the next step you take. Eventually, it will be in that next step. There is no arguing that. I have gone entire days without finding anything except pull-tabs and bottle caps. That has only happened a few times in over twenty years of detection, but I can honestly say I have never gone two consecutive days without finding at least a penny.

Jack listened to Buck intently as each person continued to walk north and detect the sand beneath their bare toes. At about 15th Avenue, while Jack was walking in eight inches of water, Black Beauty made a strong, promising beep. He bent down with his scooper, estimated where the object was and scooped up nearly an entire scooper full of heavy, wet sand. It was the first time he had ever scooped for a target beneath the water. He was excited and curious.

When he started to shake the sand from the scooper, he realized it was hurtful to his forearm and shoulder and was inefficient. He theorized that it might work better if he slid the hole-filled scooper through the salt water at a 45-degree angle. He tried it. He was right. As he pushed and pulled the scooper through the water, the sand slid almost effortlessly through the smaller-than-dime holes. It only took a few seconds for the sand to slip away like lost gold dust. Remaining at the bottom was a gleaming 1992 quarter.

Buck, I found a quarter, Jack yelled exuberantly.

That’s marvelous, Jack. Did you sweep Black Beauty around the area to see if it’s a multiple find? 

No, sir. I haven’t yet, but I am going to right now, as you’ve always taught me.

Good luck, lad.

Jack did not find anything else near the quarter, though he did not leave the area until he was certain he had swept over it thoroughly.

I wonder how that quarter got there, Grandpa Buck.

That’s what all metal detectors do, Jack. They wonder, wonder, wonder, question, question, question, and how did this get here? How did that get there? How does anything wind up anywhere? Then there is the question, ‘How long has it been there?’ Most of the time, we will never have the answers to those questions, Jack, but not knowing is part of the fun. It’s a mystery. We get to use our imagination to create a backstory as to how a ring, watch, or coin wound up in the spot we found it. Creating backstories is fun, too. By the way, Jack, you don’t have to call me Grandpa Buck. Buck will suffice.

Yes, sir.

Buck chuckled. They walked in silence for the next ten minutes. 

As the sun slid slowly toward the beckoning blue-green water, a serene dusk was born. Through the hovering gloam, a tall, thin, middle-aged man wearing a plain brown baseball cap and carrying a plain brown towel approached the boy and Buck in a heady jog. He was out of breath and his face was scrunched into itself beneath worried, squinted eyes. There was an unmistakable sense of urgency emanating from every portion of his body.

Hey guys, he said, almost panting but making sure, he addressed both metal detectors. I am desperately in need of your help if you can spare the time.

How can we help you, sir? Buck asked.

My wife lost her wedding ring. We put it under our towels that were on the sheet so we would not lose it when we went swimming. When we came out of the water, we both forgot about the ring. We grabbed the towels, dried off, and in the process, got our sheets full of sand. My wife asked me to step off the sheet so she could shake off the sand. I stepped off the sheet and Julie grabbed it and gave it a powerful shake. Then she smoothed the sheet out on the sand, and we laid down on it. Two minutes later Julie screamed, ‘my ring,’. As soon as she said it, I felt more panic than I had ever felt in my life. Could you fellas please detect the area around our sheet and see if you can find it? We would forever be in your debt." 

Of course, we can help you, sir. No guarantees, however, Buck said; but we will give it our best shot, right, Jack!

We sure will, sir, Jack answered. He wondered why he called Buck sir, but in an instant, he concluded that he loved and respected the man. It was that simple. 

Both metal detectors immediately became serious. They put their heads down and stared, as if in a trance, at the hypnotically moving discs they swept over the nearly white sand.

Where might that ring have gone? Both Jack and Buck wondered as they searched diligently and determinedly. Near them, standing still like cigar store Indians, except for their watchful, moving eyes, stood Howard and his wife, whose name was yet unknown to Jack and Buck.

Seconds ticked by without a word being spoken by the new acquaintances. Doubt and worry hung in the air like humidity, a hovering anxiety that made it difficult to breathe. A minute passed, then two, as Howard’s and his wife’s chest tightened, as much as his wife’s ring-less left hand squeezed her husband’s comforting right. The couple suddenly succumbed to profound sadness, and warm tears slid mournfully from Howard’s wife’s eyes. Her conscience criticized her for her childish mistake. When Howard saw her tears, he felt as if a dagger had struck his heart. Time became an enemy, as people who were leaving the beach after the sunset tread upon the sand between the sheet and the two detectors, possibly pushing the lost ring deeper into the sand.

Six more minutes passed as the metal detectors persevered. The last lingering light faded into darkness and thick clouds formed in the sky above them. The tightness that had formed in the married couple’s chests seemed to float through the air and over the sand into the chests of Jack and Buck. Each of them had approached their important task fervently and they both experienced stomach pit butterflies as the minutes passed and the beloved wedding ring had not been recovered.

"I’ve got a