This story is by Jacqueline Houchin and won an Honorable Mention in our 2017 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Jacqueline Houchin is a retired journalist, book reviewer, and sometime editor. She wrote serialized Christian mystery stories for her three granddaughters when they were young. She’s traveled to Africa on several mission trips and has begun a series of “Missionary Kids” stories for elementary children. She loves reading and storytelling.
Since Labor Day, Audrey had wondered what to do about the painting. She’d kept it five years as instructed. She hadn’t pawned it even when jobless, her apartment rent due, her car repossessed.
Things were better now. She had a nice job in an upscale art gallery. Her miniature paintings had begun to sell. And the gallery had allowed her to keep Autumn Gold in their front display window. It was safe there and it brought in customers.
Five years ago, her beloved Peter painted the woodland scene, a stand of hardwood trees shimmering in yellows, golds, burnt oranges and mottled pale greens. Deep mahogany and umber shadows contrasted with the sun-lit trees giving the painting an almost 3-D look.
And then he did the impossible. He painted an image of her face in the trees, capturing her auburn hair, fair skin, and green eyes in a fine mist of paint that wasn’t apparent at first glance. Viewers had to look twice and at a certain angle in a certain light to see it. But when they did, they stared amazed.
“How much?” they would ask, and then, “Who’s the painter?”
It was not for sale, of course, and Audrey couldn’t risk giving out Peter’s name. She’d smile, point to a smudged signature in the corner, and then show them through the gallery.
Autumn Gold was how she met David, the shopkeeper across the street. He’d admired the painting in the window several times on his way to the Starbucks on the corner. One day, he glimpsed her image and stood transfixed, holding his breath, staring. He came in then and saw her, Audrey Gould, and fell in love with both her and the painting.
She had coffee with him that day. And the next. They picnicked in the park, and visited an art museum. She explained how her . . . deceased husband . . . had painted Autumn Gold and how she could never sell it. He seemed relieved and excited even as he murmured his sympathy for her loss.
Audrey hated telling David that lie, but what could she do? How could she tell him what she and Peter had done five years earlier, and what they purposed to do this month? She told him she might be taking a vacation to see her sister’s family, but she hadn’t told him where. She didn’t know where. Not until Autumn Gold told her.
After the gallery closed, Audrey carried Autumn Gold to the back room. She laid the painting gently on the framing table and adjusted the overhead light. She brought a small bottle of turpentine, a brush, and a soft rag to the table.
She took a deep breath and looked at the lower left corner of the painting, a place of shadowy rocks. She opened the bottle and dipped in the brush, pulling off the excess against the lip. Could she do it? If she acted on what was revealed beneath the paint, her life would change forever.
Her mind flashed back five years when she and Peter were true “struggling young artists.” They both wanted to paint and to make a living by it, but nothing sold. Nothing! They were hungry for fame and fortune, and in a real sense, for food. They had no possessions except the paints and brushes and canvases. They lived in the poorest neighborhood, in a basement studio. They owed money to everyone. But still they painted and hoped.
Then Peter created the stunning painting that now lay before her. It was an omen, a promise of real money that would change their lives in a wonderful way.
That evening they walked hand in hand in Central Park, hope rising in their hearts. They found a bench tucked into a grove of flowering hibiscus and snuggled together against the chill. Peter rubbed the third finger of her left hand. “Soon.”
Suddenly they heard running steps and hard breathing. They drew back in the shadows clutching each other, holding their breaths. They nearly cried out when a heavy bag was thrown into the leaves at their feet. Frozen in place, they watched as two men raced past and darted into the foliage further down the path. Then silence, only their hearts pounding in their ears.
They looked down at the object at their feet. It was a bulging canvass bag stamped with the name of the neighborhood bank they knew so well. That bank had recently given their default loan to a collection agency.
Peter carefully lifted the bag to his lap, feeling its heft. He looked at Audrey, his eyebrows lifted, questioning. She nodded. Dear God, she had nodded!
Quickly hid the bag deep in the bushes. When it was dark, they came back with Peter’s backpack. They had to struggle to push it inside, their hands clumsy with fear. Back in their apartment, with blinds drawn, they cut a hole in the padlocked bag and stared at the packs and packs of hundred dollar bills.
Peter, his mind whirling, devised a plan. They would hide the money for five years, separate themselves as far as they could from it and from each other, lie low, and do the best they could to survive. After five years, exactly to that date — the first day of Autumn — they would meet, marry, and use this windfall to live the life of their dreams.
There was no time for second thoughts. Peter chose the burial spot, hastily painted the clues to it in Autumn Gold’s foreground before carefully repainting over them. He divided a pack of the bills between them to pay for their “get-away” and to help establish them in other places. He kissed her deeply, a promise of a future together, grabbed the backpack, and was gone. She slipped away the next morning with the treasured painting, eventually coming to this town and her new identity.
Now, after five years of silence she stood ready to reveal the directions to the meeting place, to Peter or whoever he was now, and to the prize, the gold at the end of the rainbow.
Her face darkened and she allowed the thought that haunted her to surface. They were criminals! Could they ever be truly happy living on that money? As soon as she could she’d saved a thousand dollars from her earnings — the amount they’d taken from the bag — and given it to charity. Not the same, but it assuaged her guilt.
Quickly, before she lost courage, she dipped the drying brush back into the turpentine, tapped it, and began feathering it over a dark rock. She dabbed at the spot with the rag, reloaded the brush and touched the spot again. Brush, dab, reload, again and again. Then she saw them. Two lines of faint numbers. She threw down the brush, picked up a pencil, and scribbled them on a piece of paper before they could fade. She verified them once, and then they were gone.
She found the compass app on her phone and typed in the coordinates. A map of the United States appeared and then zoomed to the West Coast. It settled just north of California’s Golden Gate Bridge, at Vista Park. How appropriate, she thought. Their treasure was hidden at the end of the Golden Gate.
Now she knew where to direct her travel plans. She had two weeks to firm up everything. She wouldn’t resign her job until she knew how things went at the other end. She could always call later to explain a family emergency, give her regrets . . .
Regrets. So many regrets.
Early the next morning Audrey placed Autumn Gold back in the window, the lower corner perfectly restored. She slipped the sale card she’d made with its astonishing dollar amount into its frame. She would miss the painting, but they would need the money to live on, she and Peter. If he was there. And if she could convince him to abandon their plan.
She looked up and waved at David who was setting out a sign board in front of his shop. He waved, and then signed drinking a cup of coffee. He pointed to the corner and then to his watch and raised ten fingers. She smiled and nodded. She would miss David too.
A sudden thought came. Should she become Autumn Gold again, or stay Audrey Gould? She laughed. Soon she would be Mrs. Peter —.
—
The New York Times, September 3, 2018
Cash from a NYC bank robbery was discovered late today by two young boys climbing a hillside in Vista Park just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. The money had been missing for six years. Two men were apprehended and prosecuted for the robbery, but there must have been a third who carried the cash across the country. Bank officials reported one pack of hundred dollar bills ($1,000) missing, but the boys’ father assured officials his sons had delivered the bag intact. They were awarded $100 each.
Cleverly woven twists. Fun read. Congratulations!
Thanks, Greg. I’m a mystery fan, so I suppose that aspect came out in the twists in AUTUMN GOLD. I’m glad you had fun reading it. The Short Fiction Break’s winter contest has a theme of “COUNTDOWN.” Now, that would sure lend itself to suspense and mystery! But countdown to what…..?
I love the tension in this story, and the imagery makes the writing glow. Congratulations to you!
Thank you, Carrie. It was fun to write. It was actually three story ideas that came together in one – the “image” in the painting, the windfall of money from a bank robbery, and the GPS coordinates leading to the prize. When Short Fiction Break gave the theme as “Let’s FALL in LOVE,” they all seemed to “fall” into place.
Loved this story and couldn’t wait to see where it was going! And I want to know what happened to Audrey/ Autumn/ David/ Peter. Had me hooked till the end!
Thank you, Anna. I’m putting together another story from Peter’s side, what happened to him after he grabbed the bag of money and ran. I kind of left David hanging, didn’t I. Hmm. Maybe HE bought the painting and it brought him luck… or love…
WOW! What an outrageous tale! I am only writing a bit for a little more than a year now and I am 64. I absolutely loved your whole storyline and commend you on your mystery writing talent. I mean NO disrespect to the winner of the Fall Contest, but, to me, THIS IS THE WINNER! After reading many of the stories for the contest, I feel quite inadequate. Most of the stories seem too “deep” for what I personally like. Your story just hit the spot for me! It was more realistic where I could “see” the painting without over-using too many adjectives that sometimes are too wordy for me! LOL, but then again…I am NOT a big reader of Stephen King for the same reason. Just me, so I Do not mean to offend anyone reading this! (Love King’s stories, just Not reading them)
I wish you could spin this story a different way so that it could turn into a big mystery novel! I will be online to buy it! I Love these contests and will be looking for your “NEW” story after I write mine!
Oh, my goodness, thank you Debra. Such kind words about my story! I know what you mean about “deep” stories. They do not appeal to me either. It would be fun to write a mystery novel sometime, but I don’t think I’m up to that now! Actually, with the success of Autumn Gold, I am almost afraid of trying another story for fear that it will be a humongous flop!
I encourage you to write a story for this Winter contest. I had never entered a contest before although I’ve played around writing stories. The work-shopping feature is really the best. SO helpful to get suggestions, and to read and critique your fellow writers. Do try! I may be posting glorious comments on YOUR story next!
Hi Jac, So glad you understood what I meant! If you get a chance, please look for my story in the Fall Contest. It was called Bittersweet Love. I would so very much LOVE to hear your HONEST critique since you understand what I like! Please be Honest because I don’t know if I should write for my own fun or if I don’t have the “knack” to push on. I think that I have a Great paranormal idea or should I just keep reading everyone else’s novels! If you don’t want to reply here, you can comment on my profile area on the Write Practice site or my email. Thank you and Keep it up! First Contest…AMAZING!!!
debness11@gmail.com
Did you get it workshopped in your group? What were the comments? I will try to find it Debra, but regardless, KEEP ON WRITING and reading.
Jacqueline, congratulations on writing such a compelling story and on winning a place in the contest. Like Debra Campbell, I’m a new writer at age 68, and I aspire to your level of writing. I enjoyed the suspense and the twist at the end. It’s a good thing Audrey didn’t quit her job. I’m interested to read the story from Peter’s POV. I want to know what happens next. I wish you the best in your writing endeavors.
Billie, We “youngsters” need more input from others because being NEW to writing at our age, we need extra feedback so that we KNOW whether or not we BELONG doing this. Well, at least I do and of course, my family and friends Love anything I do!
Thank you so much, Billie. I encourage you to write a story for the Winter Contest too. Age has nothing to do with it, in fact it might be a help. Think of all the experiences you have to draw from. Think of all the books you’ve read and love or hated, but in either case they have put a sense of how stories are written into your mind. You can do it, and I’d love to read yours!
I do want to write Peter’s side of Autumn Gold – remember HE had the money, so there may be aspects of temptation for him… or many not. Maybe he’s a true blue kind of guy… but maybe he loses the bag or it gets stolen and he has to find it. Does he paint more? I don’t know. Meanwhile I want to write for the Winter contest theme – “Countdown.” I’m already mulling some story aspects in my mind. Go for it too. You are FOUR years younger than I am! LOL
Your story kept me on the edge of my seat! I love the whole hide clues inside the painting idea and the promise of a brand new life. It would be interesting to add the other two stories (Peter and David) and turn it into at least a novella. Truly an enjoyable read. Congratulations!
Thank you for reading AUTUMN GOLD, Trish! I got the idea for the GPS coordinates as a clue from a family treasure hunt game we had at our church, patterned after The Amazing Race. Of course, putting them into the painting was a fun way to hide the clues in a safe place. It would be interesting to show Peter and David’s stories too! Again, I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Wonderful story, engaging, very well written.
Loved to read more of your stories.
Hi Daniela, If you would like to read my Winter contest story here is the link for it. https://shortfictionbreak.com/untimely-bride/