the world and if I can stop it, even just a little, then good wins. The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
“Edmund Burke,” Deacon said with surprise. “That quote is one of the main reasons I do what I do.”
Sydney and Deacon fell quiet instantly as the sound of the shovel connecting with something solid reverberated in the cold winter morning. Their eyes shot to each other as Sydney scrambled to her feet and hurried to look into the hole Deacon had dug.
“Is it really there?” Sydney asked with excitement.
Deacon shoveled out some more dirt and smiled. “It’s a trunk!”
Sydney dropped to her knees and started pushing the dirt from the top of the trunk. It was covered in some kind of leather with large, black leather straps around it. Deacon continued to dig out the dirt all around it, and soon the trunk was unearthed.
“I can’t believe it,” Sydney said with awe as she jumped to give Deacon a hug. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her breathing quickened, and she didn’t care. She wanted to run her hand down the ridges of his abdomen; she wanted their tongues to dance and to feel the euphoria of finally coming together.
His jaw tightened again, and he stepped back. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this thing inside.”
He bent over and pulled, but the trunk wouldn’t budge. “Here, I’ll get this end.”
Sydney moved to grab one end and Deacon grabbed the other. Together they lifted with all their strength. The box dislodged from the dirt and they heaved it up onto the grass.
“That thing weighs a ton,” Deacon said as he breathed heavily.
“It’s probably the family silver,” Sydney panted.
“I have a dolly; let me get that, and we’ll wheel it inside,” Deacon told her as he took off, jogging for the garage. That was fine by her. She didn’t want that trunk dropping on her toes.
“Okay, I’ll lift this end and you wedge the dolly underneath it,” Deacon instructed as he walked back with it behind him.
Sydney stood and took control of the dolly. Deacon bent and hissed out his breath as he lifted the edge of the trunk. Sydney moved fast and slid the metal lip of the dolly underneath. They worked together to move it into the mudroom and set it on some old towels.
“Look,” Sydney gasped. There in faded gold lettering were the initials E.M.W . “This was Elizabeth Woodbury’s trunk.”
Deacon looked at the dirt-caked lock holding it closed. He reached down and gave it a tug. The lock held. He used his thumb to clear off some of the dirt, and Sydney leaned forward to give it a good look.
“That lock doesn’t look like it’s a couple hundred years old,” she said as she stared at it.
“Any idea if you have the key or should I just bust it open?” Deacon asked.
Sydney thought about it for a second. “Let me look in the family Bible. It’s so large that I could have missed something.”
She hurried through the living room and up the stairs. Deacon had moved all of her things into the room next to his while repairmen replaced the broken glass window in her great-grandmother’s old room. Sydney jumped onto the bed, pulled the heavy book from the nightstand, and placed it on the bed, careful not to damage the relic.
Sydney looked inside the front cover and then quickly thumbed through the pages making sure nothing was hidden inside. She carefully turned to the back cover and nearly jumped when she saw it. Two small keys were taped to the inside back cover.
“I found it!” Sydney screamed as she peeled away the tape and palmed the keys. She raced down the stairs, hurtled an ottoman in the living room, and slid to a stop next to Deacon.
“Here,” she said, shoving the keys into his hand.
“Two keys?” Deacon asked as he looked at them closely.
“I don’t know. They’re about the same size, but that one seems newer and the head is very narrow on it,” Sydney said, pointing to the shiny
“Edmund Burke,” Deacon said with surprise. “That quote is one of the main reasons I do what I do.”
Sydney and Deacon fell quiet instantly as the sound of the shovel connecting with something solid reverberated in the cold winter morning. Their eyes shot to each other as Sydney scrambled to her feet and hurried to look into the hole Deacon had dug.
“Is it really there?” Sydney asked with excitement.
Deacon shoveled out some more dirt and smiled. “It’s a trunk!”
Sydney dropped to her knees and started pushing the dirt from the top of the trunk. It was covered in some kind of leather with large, black leather straps around it. Deacon continued to dig out the dirt all around it, and soon the trunk was unearthed.
“I can’t believe it,” Sydney said with awe as she jumped to give Deacon a hug. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her breathing quickened, and she didn’t care. She wanted to run her hand down the ridges of his abdomen; she wanted their tongues to dance and to feel the euphoria of finally coming together.
His jaw tightened again, and he stepped back. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this thing inside.”
He bent over and pulled, but the trunk wouldn’t budge. “Here, I’ll get this end.”
Sydney moved to grab one end and Deacon grabbed the other. Together they lifted with all their strength. The box dislodged from the dirt and they heaved it up onto the grass.
“That thing weighs a ton,” Deacon said as he breathed heavily.
“It’s probably the family silver,” Sydney panted.
“I have a dolly; let me get that, and we’ll wheel it inside,” Deacon told her as he took off, jogging for the garage. That was fine by her. She didn’t want that trunk dropping on her toes.
“Okay, I’ll lift this end and you wedge the dolly underneath it,” Deacon instructed as he walked back with it behind him.
Sydney stood and took control of the dolly. Deacon bent and hissed out his breath as he lifted the edge of the trunk. Sydney moved fast and slid the metal lip of the dolly underneath. They worked together to move it into the mudroom and set it on some old towels.
“Look,” Sydney gasped. There in faded gold lettering were the initials E.M.W . “This was Elizabeth Woodbury’s trunk.”
Deacon looked at the dirt-caked lock holding it closed. He reached down and gave it a tug. The lock held. He used his thumb to clear off some of the dirt, and Sydney leaned forward to give it a good look.
“That lock doesn’t look like it’s a couple hundred years old,” she said as she stared at it.
“Any idea if you have the key or should I just bust it open?” Deacon asked.
Sydney thought about it for a second. “Let me look in the family Bible. It’s so large that I could have missed something.”
She hurried through the living room and up the stairs. Deacon had moved all of her things into the room next to his while repairmen replaced the broken glass window in her great-grandmother’s old room. Sydney jumped onto the bed, pulled the heavy book from the nightstand, and placed it on the bed, careful not to damage the relic.
Sydney looked inside the front cover and then quickly thumbed through the pages making sure nothing was hidden inside. She carefully turned to the back cover and nearly jumped when she saw it. Two small keys were taped to the inside back cover.
“I found it!” Sydney screamed as she peeled away the tape and palmed the keys. She raced down the stairs, hurtled an ottoman in the living room, and slid to a stop next to Deacon.
“Here,” she said, shoving the keys into his hand.
“Two keys?” Deacon asked as he looked at them closely.
“I don’t know. They’re about the same size, but that one seems newer and the head is very narrow on it,” Sydney said, pointing to the shiny
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