Just A Thought – April 1, 2019April 1, 2019
Just A Thought – April 2, 2019April 2, 2019
Well, here we are beginning a new month, April. Our adventures in April include a drive across the United States, from Georgia to California, and getting to see family and friends along the way and in California. Who knows, we might have adventures inside adventures!
We’re continuing our story, Rosebud Lane, from last month. Hope you’ve read Part 1. If not, you can find it on the website. I hope you enjoy great adventures in April. Now, here’s the conclusion of Rosebud Lane.
You’ll recall from Part 1 that Melissa was anxious to tell Mitch what she had seen and the strange things she’d overheard on her early morning hike.
Finally, during a lull in business, Melissa got Mitch’s attention.
“Mitch, let me tell you what I heard this morning on my hike,” she said motioning toward the cooking area away from customers. Mitch mixed a fresh batch of brownies while she told about hearing two men talking about eagles and planes on Rosebud Lane.
“Mitch, that’s where Mac Phenson lives, right? Do you think he’d have anything to do with spy planes?”
“Who knows,” Mitch said as he put the pan of brownies in the oven. “He’s a strange one, but we could always take an evening hike up by his place.”
“Oh, I don’t….”
The bell rang and Clyde walked in. Melissa quickly glanced at Mitch, pointing to Clyde’s red plaid shirt.
“Hey, Mitch.” Clyde took a deep breath. “I smell brownies. I could sure use some of them. Can you wrap me up a dozen to go?”
“Sure, Clyde. They’ll be ready in an hour, and you can pick them up then. You having a big wing ding tonight?” Mitch asked, pouring him a cup of coffee.
“Nah,” Clyde answered. “Just need ‘em for, uh, um, bird hunting.”
“Hey, Clyde,” Melissa said. “Speaking of birds, I was just wondering what eagles eat. Bet they’d love Mitch’s brownies or do they eat rosebuds?” Melissa glanced at Mitch.
“Uh, no, uh…I don’t know.” Clyde quickly gulped the rest of his hot coffee. “Hey, Mitch, I gotta go right now, but I’ll be back in an hour to get the brownies.” He placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter and hurried to the front door. “See ya later.”
Melissa put the bill in the register and waited until Clyde was out of sight.
“Mitch, he was one of the men I saw on my hike. I recognized his shirt, and did you see how nervous he was when I mentioned eagles eating brownies or rosebuds?”
Mitch nodded. “I say you and I take a hike this evening.”
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Mac had spent the same three hours moving and working on equipment in the open field next to his barn. Until this morning when Barney called, his work had been hush-hush, known only to a select few.
“They’re on to us, Dodger,” Mac told his faithful companion. “We’re so close, but now we’ll have to do a test run tonight.”
He moved other equipment and cages as Dodger followed dutifully by his side.
By seven o’clock and under a full moon Mac had assembled everything near the barn. Dodger barked. Coming down the hillside two figures approached. “Rosebud,” one called.
Mac responded, “The eagle flies at nine.” Barney emerged from the woods followed by Clyde still in his red plaid shirt, carrying the box of remaining brownies.
“Why are we rushing the schedule?” Clyde asked, putting the box down.
“Barney says people and cops have been asking too many questions in town,” Mac said as they began their work.
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Mitch and Melissa hiked to an area just beyond Mac’s property where they hid. Peering out from behind some hemlocks, they watched Mac, Barney, and Clyde carry metal containers and place them in the open field. Then they heard a whir-whir roar.
Mac and his helpers assembled what looked to Mitch like a child’s remote control plane, but it was much larger than a toy version. Within minutes the engine sputtered, propeller blades whirled, the plane taxied, and then took off.
“Oh, my gosh,” Melissa whispered. “They are building spy planes.”
Once the plane was airborne and out of sight, Mac brought three large birds from the barn and placed them on perches.
“What are they doing with birds?” Melissa asked.
Mitch leaned closer.
Barney blew a whistle and immediately the birds took flight and disappeared beyond the trees.
Suddenly sirens broke the stillness of the evening and lights flashed as three police cars surrounded Mac and his friends.
Melissa panicked when Mitch edged closer. “Mitch!” she whispered as loud as she dared.
He grabbed her arm. “I think we’d better get out of here.”
They made a quick dash for the trail and headed back to Mitch’s car.
“Mitch, what do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know.”
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Melissa was the first one at the coffee shop the next morning. She unlocked the front door and opened the blinds. With the coffee maker ready, she pressed the start button about the time Mitch arrived.
“Did you hear? Did you hear?” her words tumbled over each other.
He shook his head.
“Mac Phenson isn’t a spy. He has been training birds and using miniature planes for government work. After his Desert Storm assignment he started working directly with the CIA training different birds and sending small undetectable remote planes, drones they call them, behind enemy lines to deliver tactical messages to the troops.”
“That’s amazing,” Mitch said. “I guess that goes to prove you can’t believe everything you hear. Right, Melissa?” He tilted his head toward her.
“Hey, how was I to know what was going on?” Melissa said, promptly defending herself. “And you were just as curious as I was.” She shook a spatula at Mitch.
Mitch laughed and picked up the container of dirty dishes and headed toward the kitchen. “Well, from now on, Melissa, I think I’ll just call you Rosebud.”
“Shhh,” she whispered, following Mitch. “The eagle flies at nine.”
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