Classical music relaxed the atmosphere as dual guitars played in gentle rhythm. Though the sound was enough to make me appreciate the finer things in life, my eyes stung. This shouldn’t be happening, I thought as my vision blurred around me. A reddish brown mixture filled the bottle. In life I was allergic to hot peppers, in death, nothing had changed.

I was positioned on a long banquet table. Flames beneath covered platters danced in the gentle breeze. From what I could guess, the bottle that I had become entangled was some sort of sauce for the food about to be served.

A large cottage stood behind with three levels of deck and plenty of windows overlooking the inland lake. People were gathered in tiny groups. Smiles flashed and hand gestures politely became animated as conversations varied from group to group.

Two musicians stood on a portable stage, their fingers flying proficiently about the strings of matching Gibson acoustic instruments. Food servers appeared dressed in white uniforms for the formal occasion. Large trays with sparkling beverages were offered to the affluent guests. Serving trays were within the clutches of help awaiting the signal to begin. They appeared as a small army, ready and waiting.

Everyone about seemed to have an air of sophistication, women in evening gowns, men in formal tuxedo’s. There were no children present.

After a few minutes, a gentleman with slick hair approached the stage and announced that dinner was being served. He said something of wit as the crowd shared a quick chuckle. Guest tables lined the deck on the ground level as formal settings were illuminated by an array of candles perched within crystal enclosures. People flowed to their seats with decorum eagerly anticipating the thrill of gourmet cuisine.

The evening sun began to fall beneath the tree line. Lights clicked on, followed by a display of floating candles on the lake shore. Everything was thought out, planned down to the tiniest of detail. It reminded me of the socials my father would throw at his beach estate on Lake Michigan. I smiled at the recollection.

A tiny man in a chef’s hat approached, plucking me from the table. He hurried from guest to guest sprinkling drops of my contents onto the main course of prime rib.

Visitors appeared to be elated by the occasion. I gazed about the crowd wondering who would be granted the next wish. Everyone seemed to have so much, too much judging by the jewels the women sported.

Suddenly, from the back of the cottage smoke overtook the fresh air of the approaching night. "Fire!" A young boy screamed. "Fire, Fire!" He said sprinting towards the lake hysterical.

The crowd of people jumped from their seats in a panic. Everyone including the staff of caterers darted towards the backyard, the only logical escape. "Someone call the fire department!" Was shouted from the crowd as they dispersed. In contrast to the way everyone had taken their seats, havoc was contagious.

With the attention focused behind, the young boy swooped to the main table and grabbed a tray of meat. He plucked a second tray of potatoes and piggybacked the metal enclosures.

He hurried through adding things to his large stack of food. A moment later, as an afterthought, he pulled me from the table and stuffed the bottle into the back pocket of his shorts. The world about me vibrated in the course of his escape.

From behind I heard someone mention that it was a false alarm. "Just a smoke bomb!" Was audible above the child’ frantic pace through water.

Into the night I disappeared within the possession of a common thief.

I heard a zipper, then a woman’s mousy voice. "Did you remember the sauce?"

"Yes mom." The boy said placing the food on the canvas floor.

"Oh, Justin. What a banquet! If this isn’t heaven, I’m not sure what is."

"I’ll grab the camping plates." The boy announced as he handed me to his mother. Removing the stopper, she sprinkled a generous amount of sauce onto the fine cuts of beef. Her eyes lit with happiness. The boy and she ate by flashlight within the walls of their canvas home. I was placed on a sleeping bag in a side tilt about to topple.

"Are you sure you weren’t followed?" The woman asked.

"No mom. I can honestly say that I wasn’t. I took the path through the channel."

"Good, very good son."

Silence fell as they devoured with incredible appetite. Both mother and child appeared to be malnourished. Dark circles surrounded their eyes and the clothing they wore was not presentable. Slashes in the boys shirt had been sewed in a thread not matching the material. Everything was shabby and the tent was leaning in a southern direction.

"You didn’t manage to grab something to drink, did you son?"

He smiled at his mother, pulling a bottle of sparkling raspberry juice from his other back pocket.

"Well, well..." She said holding the flashlight to the label. "Imported from France. Aren’t we living the high life tonight Justin!"

"You think they’ll notice some of their food is gone?"

"Not one bit! That type always has more than they need. It would’ve probably ended up in tomorrow’s trash. Which reminds me, we should have a look see in their garbage first thing. We might find some bread or something that's still useful."

"You’d better go in case they’re looking for me." Justin said.

"Good idea son."

Once dinner was finished, Justin carried the half eaten trays away from the tent. "Make sure you take them far away from here. We wouldn’t want anyone accusing us of stealing from the party now."

"Yes mom."

The boy disappeared for a few short minutes. "What about this?" He asked, holding me up after his return.

"Keep it. If we find bread rolls tomorrow at least we can dip them in some meat sauce."

The boy wrinkled his nose hinting at the displeasure he felt over their diet.

"How long before the vacationer’s leave mom?"

"In just a few short weeks. Then we can break camp and move into one of the cottages for the winter." The mother announced.

"I’m looking forward to a hot bath again mom."

"Me too." She replied, her eyes flashing a hint of their past misery.

"Which cottage should we stay in this year?" Justin asked.

"One that has plenty of food." The mother replied. "Last year we were down to two cans of ravioli."

"We made it though, didn’t we mom?"

"Yes we did."

"You need to take the bar of soap down to the lake to bathe now Justin."

"Yes mamma." He said pulling a small wedge of soap from a scrap of wrapper.

"Make sure to wash your hair with that while you’re at it."

"I will."

After Justin disappeared through the zippered doorway, the mother’s gaze fell to the small room surround. Her face transformed from a forced cheerful to depressed. "Good Lord." She whispered. "If you could see fit to lead us out from this mess, I’d be ever so grateful. I’d love to go home again and Justin needs to be in school with kids his own age. Thanks."

I thought at that, she would catch a glimpse of the bottle and I’d be onto the next wish, but it didn’t happen that way. No matter what level of shouts I attempted, my dimension to her remained separated.

The morning light illuminated the tent as if it were a display box. I was surprised that both mother and son were gone from their home. I didn’t sleep, so I wondered how they slipped away without notice. I had no choice but to wait around listening to the sounds of the world around me.

Speed boats raced through the waves making a pattern of sound similar to a chain saw cutting through tough wood. It reminded me of the team of saws used after a storm one year at Helena Rolands. A forest of century old trees were toppled in the path of a twister.

Gentle breaths of wind rustled the leaves until mid-day then the surrounding world became still. The tent began to bake in the full exposure of sun and even in the form of a bottle, I became uncomfortable.

Playful laughter and music mixed together from the opposite end of the lake. Footsteps, two sets approached and it wasn’t until someone spoke, that I realized it was not the mother and her son returning.

"This is where they’re staying." The first male declared.

"Are they in there?" A man with an authoritative voice asked.

"No. The Walter’s reported that the woman was scavenging through their trash at first light this morning. They’re probably still making the rounds along the lake."

"You think the boy did it?" The man with the softer voice asked.

"It doesn’t really matter now does it? We need to investigate. Mr. Walter’s will not stand for that kind of thing happening at one of his banquets again."

"You say the guitarist saw the boy running off with food?"

"Yep. Quite a lot of nerve if you ask me."

"Was it nerve or desperation?" The softer of the voices asked.

"What do you think their story is Bart?"

"I don’t know, but I aim to find out."

Just then a large man appeared at the doorway. His oversized fingers pinched the zipper as he reached through and lifted me through the mesh entryway.

"Here’s some evidence Bart."

The shorter of the two gazed at the bottle of sauce. "They could’ve fished that from the garbage anywhere."

"True, but this bottle's just been opened."

Bart took hold of the bottle and twisted the cap. His index finger brushed along the rim as he placed the sample to his tongue. "Not bad, not bad at all."

A moment later, Justin appeared. Both men gazed up in unison at the boy. Justin froze, startled by their presence. His line of gaze homed in on the bottle of sauce.

"Good day." Bart said to Justin.

"Officer." The boy said nodding.

"You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a boy lighting off a few smoke bombs at the Walter’s party yesterday evening, now would you?"

"I didn’t see anyone." The boy responded.

"It seems someone made a clever diversion in order to run off with some food and such from the party." Bart said studying Justin.

"Well, if anyone sneaks up and takes our food, I’ll be sure to tell you." Justin said, as both officers coughed away a chuckle.

"We were wondering if we could have a word with your mother."

"She’s not here right now." Justin said grabbing the sauce from the officer.

His eyes scanned the bottle and in that instant I realized he could see me. I waved at him and he gasped in disbelief.

"Would you happen to know when she’ll be coming back?"

"She didn’t say exactly." Justin said.

"That’s okay son. We’ll swing by later."

"Okay sir. I’ll tell her you were here."

"That would be nice of you."

It almost appeared as if Justin had stopped breathing until the police had disappeared down the path. As soon as they were gone, his mother crawled out from behind the camouflage of evergreens.

"Did you hear that?" Justin asked.

"I did." She murmured.

Justin gazed down at the bottle and used his shirt to clean a smudge from the side. He glared at me, then smiled.

"What're we going to do? There are sure to be questions now." The mother said.

"We’ll have to move on is all. Let’s break camp and hide until dark. There are other lakes around, other summer homes to stay at for the winter."

"Okay Justin." "What do you keep looking at there?"

"You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I see a woman inside this bottle. A rather pretty woman at that."

"You’re just hungry son. Did you find anything to eat this morning?"

He shook his head no. "I see her mom. She's wearing an old white dress. She has dark hair and green eyes. Look in here mom....do you see her?"

"I don’t see anything, but dip for my bread." The mother said.

The boy opened the lid. "You can come out now. I’m onto you."

My ears popped first from the velocity of suction. In a blink, I was standing in full form before the mother and her son.

"Well I’ll be...." The mother said staring at me.

"Hi." I said relieved that I was away from the hot pepper sauce.

The boy began to laugh a full belly laugh.

"I’m here to give one gift and one gift only. Think it through before you ask..."
"It’s a genie." The boy said in excitement.

The mother stood as if mesmerized by my presence. "What should we ask for mom?"

"Give us a minute." She said pulling the boy down the path out of earshot.

I strolled along the small clearing, studying the tent and the wonderful view of the lake. It was picturesque. Large cottages lined the lake shore in a figure eight. Huge speedboats navigated choppy water pulling skiers behind. A man was being towed, a rope connected on a kite above the trees. His skies dangled in mid air, reminding me of how things had changed since I was alive. Women were dressed in revealing swimsuits, any hint of modesty lost in the past eighty or so years since my death.

"We’re ready now." The boy announced.

I stood before the two wondering what could have happened to make them live in such a way.

"If it’s possible, Mom would like to go back to the night of Friday, May 1, 1981 and learn who stole the cash deposit from the store where she'd worked. Mom was blamed and we ran off before they could throw her in jail."

"Okay." I said, uncertain that I was capable of transporting someone back in time for any reason. "To be honest, I’ve never done anything quite like this....I’m not sure how to go about it."

"Great." The boy said gazing at his mother. "We get someone with inexperience."

The mother gave her son a look of disapproval for his smart attitude and he shifted his stance revealing embarrassment.

"Okay, take my hand, the both of you."

Justin slid in grasping my right hand, the mother, my left.

"Let’s form a triangle." They connected hands.

"Close your eyes now."

The world about us began to shift and rock. It felt as if we were the contents of a cradle sifting out precious gold from the riverbank. Clips from dozens of months flooded my vision. Mother and son on the run.... Endless days of scrounging for food... Breaking into cottages and the worry they held about getting caught.... bending laws here and there in order to survive. The escape itself, hitchhiking to the state of Michigan. The cold winters without proper clothing or heat. Survival, desperation, fear, and finally love.

The world ceased to tremble and we stood inside a furniture store. Rows of recliners were in front, mattresses and box springs to the back... davenports positioned near the entrance to the office. I gazed at Justin and his mother as we all appeared transparent to our surroundings.

"I’m ready to head on home now." The mother said back in 1981. She moved through an office door and rounded the corner to the employee lounge.

"Did you get everything balanced?" A man with a badger like face asked.

"Yes. The store did quite well today. I have a seven thousand dollar deposit ready to go in the morning."

"Good." The owner said. "I’ll lock up then. You have a wonderful night, okay?"

"You too. Oh my, I need to get a move on, my baby sitter becomes furious when I’m late."

"Okay Barb. You have a good evening now."

"You too."

We all watched as the 1981 version of Barb strolled through the side door and into the night. The owner walked through the store not once returning to the office where the money was located. The owner proceeded to set the alarm system and disappeared through the front door. An eighties conversion van pulled from the parking lot and passed by the front windows.

Time swung forward at a fast pace. The owners ex-wife appeared at eight o’clock the following morning. Although they were divorced, she still worked for her former husband as the office manager.

She turned off the alarm and headed inside the business. Sandy gazed in all directions as she moved into the office. A moment later, she appeared from the room, the deposit still intact from the night before. Opening the canvas bank enclosure, she gazed to the front window. Her expression transformed from cautious to guilty. The customer checks she replaced within the bag, but the pile of cash she slid into her purse. "You owe me this money Bob." She said with anger. A moment later, she returned to the office, turned off the lights and hurried to the front door. The alarm was reset and she locked the store behind. Minutes passed before the owner arrived to open up for the day.

Sandy returned fifteen minutes later apologizing for her late arrival. Within moments, she and her ex-husband opened the deposit bag. On the front counter they stacked all the checks and she announced that they were short the cash portion, five thousand dollars.

Sandy then telephoned Barb to inquire about the money. When she hung up, she told the owner to phone the police.

The world around us began to shift and sway. In an instant we were returned to the lakeside by the tent.

"Sandy took the money mom!" Justin said.

Barb began to cry. "I started to believe that by mistake I threw out the cash or something. It was my job to empty the coffee grinds into the trash. As much as I’ve tried to remember all of this time, I couldn’t... not for certain. All along, Sandy stole the money. Sandy. No one would have suspected his ex-wife. I mean, they got along so well."

"Can we go home now mom?"

"Yes Justin, we can!"

With that I began to dissolve, but this time it was a simple fading of mass. "Thank you." Were the last words that were distinguishable. I floated, floated, floated off into the cloudless sky, my spirit in search of the next assignment.