Secret Haven

Secret Haven

Written by Ann Garza

Climbing the stairs to what will be my office/library/escape from reality room, I feel each step getting heavier. I was supposed to have help from my family and friends, but at the last minute, they all had “this came up last minute” things, or as I like to say, more important to them things. The house was still new to me, and I had promised not to work on any repairs in the room without at least one person with me as I tend to be accident prone. But, since they all bailed on me, I decided to go back on my word and head up to that room with a vacuum and cleaning supplies. Once I was certain I had everything needed to at least tidy the room up some, I sat on the floor in the middle of the room so I could decide on new paint colors and if I wanted to keep the laminate flooring or replace it with something else. Something more comfortable like thick, soft and plush carpet to the match the new wall colors. I had a few ideas in mind, but I knew I needed to clean the room and the 2 walk-in closets to get a better idea.

Three hours later, the room and one closet were cleaned from top to bottom. I went back downstairs to my kitchen and made myself a snack and went back to the room to enjoy the fruits of my labor and daydream of how I could make that room my own. Then I could work on the second closet. The second closet (according to the realtor) was twice the size of the first one and apparently had old furniture in it. I spend about half an hour on the floor eating, drinking, and imaging different themes. I finally got up and walked to the door to the second closet. I take a deep breath, dreading the possibility of a huge mess in a small space, and try to open the door, but it doesn’t open. None of the interior doors were supposed to have any type of locks on them, but this one did. The knob would barely turn, and the knob was bigger than any of the other ones in the whole house. Bigger and older looking. There was a keyhole underneath the knob, so I knelt to see if maybe there was a broken key stuck in the hole or a latch of some sort that I just needed to flip to other side so the knob would turn. But no. There was no broken key or latch. Just an empty keyhole. I put my glasses on and looked through the hole to see if maybe I could catch a small glimpse of the closet and what might be in there. As my vision adjusts to trying to look through such a small space, I start seeing things. I saw a wooden floor with fur rugs and thick blankets in one corner with some books stacked next to them, like that was someone’s bed. And it was clean. It wasn’t dirty and dusty like the other closet. The other closet smelled earthy. Like the smell of the earth right before it rains, it smelled divine. It has always been one of my favorite smells since I was a little girl. This closet smelled like vanilla and cotton candy with a slight floral scent. I even smelled the floral scent when I first walked into the room, but I figured since the windows were open and there was a flower garden on one side of the house, that is what I was smelling. I saw a small table off to the other side of the closet that had clothes on it. Men’s clothing and a pair of hiking boots. Modernish too.

I was in a daze for a few minutes. Stunned that it looked like someone might have lived in that closet recently. Then I got a little overwhelmed with the thought that maybe someone is still living in there now and doesn’t know I just recently bought the house and moved in. I ran downstairs and got my cell phone to call the realtor about this locked door that isn’t supposed to be locked and that looking through the keyhole, also looks as though it is someone’s home inside my home. Right as the realtor’s voicemail came on, I remembered she went on vacation with the commission she earned from the sale of the house. She would be gone a few weeks.

At first, I was a little angry about the locked door and what lay on the other side of that locked door, but then I was a little intrigued. I knew I needed to find a locksmith and have them come out and make me a key so I could open the door or just remove the whole knob and keyhole thing and replace it with a new, non-locking knob. I took out my laptop and got to looking for this locksmith or even a handyman would work.

Turns out, when you decide to live far from a major city, there aren’t many options for anything really. I must have been exhausted from all the cleaning and searching because I fell asleep on the couch with my phone in one hand and my other hand on the keyboard of my laptop. I get up and start stretching out all the kinks from sleeping upright on a couch and as I am stretching, I remember seeing a mom-and-pop hardware store a couple of towns over and decided to pay them a visit and see if they knew of anyone that could help me with the locked door.

Pulling on a comfortable sweater and grabbing my keys, I set out for the hardware store with a sense of cautious anticipation, swirling in my stomach with nervousness. The drive through winding country roads offered a quiet moment to mull over what I’d seen—was it just a trick of the light and my vivid imagination through the keyhole, or had someone created a secret haven in that closet? When I arrived, the friendly woman behind the counter listened patiently to my predicament, nodding as if locked doors with mysterious interiors were just another day’s business. She made a few calls, scribbled down a name and number on the back of a business card, and handed it to me with a reassuring wink— “Tell Xander I sent you; he’s fixed every old lock in these parts.” I smiled at her and nodded as I tucked the card into my pocket. Feeling a curious blend of nerves and excitement, I was certain that this little adventure of getting the door unlocked was just beginning.

Maybe my imagination did run wild with what I saw through that keyhole. Maybe the closet wasn’t as clean as I thought it was, and maybe all that stuff wasn’t really in there, but I knew that whatever was on the other side of that keyhole, my whole being was in for the ride. I sent Xander a message and he replied that he would head my way in a few hours. I showered, dressed casually, but more made up than I was when I went to the hardware store. I grabbed a book and sat on my porch swing and waited. Just when I didn’t think I could take the wait any longer, I heard a honk and truck driving up my long, gravel driveway. I looked up and saw Xander waving with a friendly smile on his face. I smiled and waved back. He parked and got out of his truck, walked to the truck bed and reached for his tools and started walking towards me. Introductions were made and then he asked, “So are we making a new key for the old knob or starting fresh with something new all together? I have the tools for either, just show me the way.”

I showed him the door and explained what I saw through the keyhole. He looked at it for a few moments and then said “It would be a shame to get rid of the whole set up. Looking through the keyhole seems like such a great story to tell and maybe pass on in the future.” To which I replied, “Then let’s get to making that key.”