My wifes what you might call a sleuth-sayer in that shes been imbued with skills that would make her an excellent detective. This goes back to her earliest reading pleasures when as a young girl she became fascinated by the adventures of Nancy Drew. As she grew up and matured, other fictional heroines emerged, from Miss Marple, to Jessica Fletcher, to Kay Scarpetta, to Kinsey Millhone.
Early on in our courtship she quickly disabused me of any notion of trying to hide the truth from her, not that I was thinking of doing anything of the sort. Still, it was disarming.
Youve got that lying grin, she said during our third or fourth date.
My what? I asked, absolutely knowing what she meant but curious all the same as to how shed discovered it so quickly.
Dont bother trying to hide it, she said. Ill always be able to tell.
It was discomfiting.
But as has been my great fortune over the nearly 30 years weve been together, I gradually began to understand that any good relationship is founded in bedrock honesty and for lack of a better, more grammatically correct word, being happily and comfortably involved with a sleuth-sayer.
Which is why what happened last Friday still has me shaking my head. Because given her abilities, even she cant figure it out. It makes absolutely no sense. Heres what happened.
My phone rang at a quarter to five in the afternoon. I was asleep, trying to get ready for another midnight work commitment, and my wife had left for the beach that morning, getting a head start on the weekend. I was to join her Saturday morning.
Glancing at the caller ID as I roused myself slowly, I expected to hear my wifes voice when I answered. But it wasnt her. Instead I listened as a stranger, a woman with a Southern accent so pronounced and so lilting as to make me pay attention, said something like, Hello, I just found this phone on the beach, and I was trying to find out who it belonged to.
Knowing that my wife has a propensity for losing things on the shore earrings, bracelets, the occasional grandchild I began asking questions, the kind a reporter might ask: Where are you? What does the phone look like? Are you staying at the Seahawk?
Turns out she was, so I suggested that she take the cell phone to the front desk and have the person on duty ring my wifes room.
Thank you so much, I said to the pleasant woman on the other end of the line. Youve really done a good thing. We appreciate it so much.
Because losing your phone these days can lead to all kinds of very nasty consequences ID theft, the hacking of bank accounts, perhaps the loss of the entire Traffic music catalog and this lady had prevented that.
Very cool.
OK, so 15 minutes later my cell phone rang again. I have Blondies Call Me set up as my ringtone, and it was my wife.
Now heres where the story gets, well, strange.
My wife didnt realize shed left her cell on the beach until the room phone rang and she was told it had been turned in at the front desk. In her hurry to retrieve it, she grabbed her car key instead of the room key and shut the door behind her, locking her out.
Once shed straightened out that knotted problem, she called me.
What was she like? I asked.
Who?
You know, the lady with the Southern accent, I said, the one who found your phone and called me.
Silence.
You there? I asked.
Yes, my wife said, but the only person I talked to was the woman at the front desk.
So you never met her? I asked. Shes staying in the same hotel. She told me.
Sorry, she said. I never saw her.
OK, flash forward to Saturday afternoon. My wife and I are enjoying the beach though it was a bit windy and I got the idea to dig out my phone and check the call log.
Guess what? No calls from my wifes phone on Friday at 4:45 when the lady called me and none from my wife 20 minutes later. But when my wife called me at 11 to make sure I was awake for work, that calls logged. Weird.
And then my wife asked the most important question of all.
How did she know to call you? I mean its not like I have one of those ICE numbers.
ICE? I asked.
You know, In Case of Emergency, she said. I dont have one.
I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise.
So I ask you, faithful reader. How did it happen that a total stranger finds a phone on the beach, calls me out of the blue and saves my wife a world of trouble, leaving behind no trace at all for her kindness?
Me? Im thinking she was an angel and that this was, well, a small miracle.
Then again maybe theres a more rational explanation, though I cannot imagine what it might be.
Paging Nancy Drew ...
Mike Dewey can be emailed at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive New Bern, NC 28560.
