Eleven Passport Stamps

By Alexandria Lang

Olive is an introverted young woman who has never ventured more than four hours away from home, nor has she ever had the desire to do so. Olive is stunned when her struggling-to-make-ends-meet single mother passes away, leaving her a trust fund, with the stipulation that in order to receive her inheritance, Olive must get out of her box and explore the world.

These are the stories of Olive's adventures, the extraordinary places she visits around the globe, and the array of interesting people she meets along the way, as well as some unavoidable sticky situations she occasionally finds herself in.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891575400

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Eleven Passport Stamps

Alexandria Lang

Copyright © 2024 Alexandria Lang

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

Eleven Passport Stamps is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used purely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 979-8-89157-495-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-89157-540-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgment

Mom

The Will

1

2

3

Humbolt County

4

5

6

7

Bahamas

Stamp Number One (Sort Of)

8

9

10

11

Mexico

Stamp Number Two

12

13

14

15

16

Dominican Republic

Stamp Number Three

17

18

19

Costa Rica

Stamp Number Four

20

21

22

23

24

Egypt

Stamp Number Five

25

26

27

28

29

Luke

30

31

32

Belize

Stamp Number Six

33

34

Canada

Stamp Number Seven

35

36

37

Europe

Stamp Numbers Eight, Nine, Ten

38

39

40

Hawaii

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

The Next Big Adventure

48

About the Author

Acknowledgment

I would like to express my gratitude to Karen Ann Jones for lending her amazing artistic talent to designing the cover of this book. Karen's creative abilities never cease to awe and inspire me. To quote Karen, I paint what you love. Her love truly shines through in all her work. It would be amiss not to mention that Karen can create a fabulous personal watercolor or oil painting for you too. Visit her website at https://karenannjones.com.

Mom

The Will

1

I never knew my father. He left Mom and me the week before my second birthday. He packed a suitcase, kissed us goodbye, and headed out the door for a business trip. He never returned.

Mom worked night shift as a licensed practical nurse (LPN) at the local hospital. Though she worked long laborious hours and often pulled double shifts, it never seemed to be enough to make ends meet. The court-enforced child support never arrived. With her often long and random work hours, she struggled to find dependable and cost-effective childcare for me. We eventually moved in with my grandmother—a strict conservative austere woman. She and Mom never got along. After Mom's father passed away, they eventually lost touch. Going to Grandma for help was an act of desperation on Mom's part.

Mom's childhood home was a small two-bedroom house that her grandparents bought when they married in 1937. Mom and I would have to share her old bedroom. Grandma had been using it as a storage space. It took Mom all day to heave the stacks of boxes up to the attic. Once the boxes were cleared out, Grandma purchased a twin bed for me, stating, For god's sake, Caroline, Olive is too old for a crib. She will climb over the railing and break her neck.

Mom never had time for a personal life. Between her job, spending time with me, and the obligatory household chores (Grandma said was her fee for us living there), she was run ragged. Her wardrobe consisted of hospital scrubs and old work clothes. She never wore makeup and kept her hair pinned up in a bun. I hardly saw her sleep. She said she caught snippets of rest whenever she could, a couple of hours here and there. As soon as I was old enough, I started helping her with the chores.

Unlike Mom's, my memories of our years with Grandma were mostly good. Grandma taught me to knit, crochet, cross-stitch, sew on the old Singer, and play the organ. It wasn't all fun though. She believed that children should be seen and not heard. I was only allowed to speak when spoken to, and she insisted on my use of impeccable manners.

Grandma and I went to church three times a week, Wednesday nights and twice on Sunday. She kneeled with me while I said my prayers every night and often asked me to be the one to say grace before our meals. I heard her and Mom arguing about it once when I was eight.

I'm just saying that I don't think you should force your religion on Olive. She should make up her own mind—when she is old enough to choose for herself.

Do you want her to turn out like you? Grandma hissed. "Maybe if you had spent more time God-fearing and focusing on taking care of your family and less time on that ridiculous dead-end career of yours, you wouldn't be a divorced single mother. Furthermore, who names their daughter Olive? I mean really…Olive Martin? For god's sake…it is one letter away from being a cocktail."

I heard Mom's muffled crying from the bathroom afterward. I couldn't understand why Grandma was so mean to her.

2

Grandma died while I was at school. They said she had an aneurysm in her brain and didn't suffer. Mom hugged me and said that I didn't have to go to the funeral if I didn't want to. She insisted it was no place for a twelve-year-old, anyway. I supposed she only said that to give me an out without my having to admit to being scared.

I had never seen a dead person nor knew of anyone who had died. Grandpa didn't count because he died before I was born. I knew Grandma was no longer in her body, that her soul had gone to heaven. It was probably mostly out of morbid curiosity when I told Mom that I wanted to go just to see her one last time—to say goodbye.

It was a small gathering. Most of the people at the funeral were from our church. Grandma looked beautiful in her crisp white linen embroidered dress lying in her white satin-lined coffin. It was as if she was floating in a cloud like an angel. Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed. The gold cross necklace I had never seen her take off gleamed in the light. I noticed that she still wore her plain gold wedding band on her left hand that lay over the top of the right and crossed over her heart. It was hard to believe that she was dead. Never before had I seen her appear so peaceful. I could almost imagine that she was sleeping and would awaken at any moment.

Things got a lot better for Mom after that. She packed all of Grandma's stuff in boxes and put them in the attic with everything else. She moved into Grandma's bedroom, and I finally got a room of my own. Mom decided I no longer needed anyone to look after me while she was at work. She hired a company to install an alarm system and showed me how to use it.

During my teenage years, we mostly passed like ships in the night. I slept while Mom was at work, and she slept while I was at school or working at one of my part-time jobs. We only saw each other a couple of hours a week and occasionally a little more often on weekends if she didn't get called in.

She eventually got a boyfriend. Bob treated her well and was nice to me too. Mom seemed happy, and I was happy for her. She never talked about my dad. The one time I asked about him and if she had a picture, she smiled sadly and said that she burned them all when it was obvious that he wasn't coming back. She claimed that some people just aren't meant for family life and we were better off without him.

I worked hard at my grades, graduated at the top of my class, and was offered an academic scholarship to our hometown college. I was grateful for the opportunity because I knew Mom couldn't afford to put me through school. While most of the student body was partying, I studied and worked part-time at the Daily Grind as a barista to help pay for my books and clothes.

Toward the end of my sophomore year of college, Mom got sick. She was diagnosed with stage-four cervical cancer, a rare voracious type. The chemo and radiation did nothing to slow its progress; her health continued to steadily decline. When she could no longer work, she signed up for long-term disability. I dropped out of school to take care of her.

Bob still came around, but as Mom diminished, he became progressively more uncomfortable and withdrawn. Over time, we saw less and less of him. I couldn't really blame him. It was beyond mere heart-wrenching to see this once beautiful, energetic, and optimistic woman deteriorate into someone else. And it was excruciatingly frustrating to know that there was nothing that could be done to save her.

I fed Mom (when she would eat, which wasn't often), bathed, clothed, and helped her to the toilet. Every night, I sat by her bed and read to her. She asked that I stay away from romance novels because they just made her sad. Instead, I read murder mysteries. We made a game out of who could figure out whodunit first. She usually beat me to it. Sometimes I pretended not to know just so she would win. She saw right through me though. A win isn't a win if it's not gained fairly, she insisted.

The doctors gave her six months from the time she was diagnosed. She hung on for a year. Sometimes when she looked at me, I could see frantic fear in her eyes.

I climbed into the bed, pulled her close, and said, Don't worry about me, Mom. I will be just fine.

She kissed my forehead. I know you will, sweetheart. I'm just afraid of letting go. I am so sorry that I won't be here to see you marry and have children. I will never have the chance to see my grandchildren or watch them grow. Promise me you will marry a decent man.

A forlorn look crossed her face as a tear silently ran down her cheek. There is so much I wish I had done better for you, Olive.

I held her tight and tried to reassure her with all the resolve I could muster to hold back my own tears. You were the best mom a girl could ever ask for, and I will make sure my children know what a wonderful special person their grandmother was.

The night she passed away, I was curled up in bed with her, talking about heaven and angels and how I knew that she would always be watching over me and her future grandchildren. She closed her eyes and squeezed my hand one last time. I waited an hour before finally calling 911. I just couldn't bear to let her go.

Bob came to the funeral. With head bowed, he gazed sheepishly up at me. I hugged him and said, Thank you for coming. Mom would be glad you're here.

It wasn't the same as it was with Grandma. Mom didn't look like a beautiful angel. She looked like a hollowed-out, emaciated, and withered husk of her former self. I didn't want everyone's last memory of her to be that. I opted for a closed-casket ceremony and instead put framed pictures of her at her happiest times around the casket. My favorite was of my eighth birthday. She and Grandma took me to the beach to explore the tide pools. My favorite place on earth. Mom was squatted down next to me, smiling adoringly as I excitedly pointed out a big purple sea star; my face beamed with delight. My eyes welled up for the hundredth time as I again looked at the photo, and the memory of that day flickered in my mind.

3

I didn't know what I was going to do after Mom passed away. There wasn't much money left in her checking account. Even though she had good health insurance, her part of the medical bills ate up all her savings. At least the house had long ago been paid in full and carried no mortgage. I surmised that I could sell Mom's car and continue to drive my old rust bucket for a couple more years. Maybe if I appealed to the college and explained the circumstances of Mom's illness, they would reinstate my scholarship. I could continue working part-time and increase my hours to pay for utilities and groceries.

Then there were the house repairs I had been putting off while Mom was sick. The kitchen faucet squirted me in the chest every time I turned it on. The toilet never quit running; that couldn't be good for the water bill. One of the boards had rotted all the way through on the front steps; it was just begging for a lawsuit. Last time I was in the attic, I noticed a dark stain ominously spreading on the ceiling in one of the corners.

I sighed as I surmised that I would have to take care of the front porch first. The last thing I needed was to be involved in a personal injury lawsuit. Some people are like vultures just waiting for any opportunity to sue someone in hopes of a free windfall. I heard a story about one of Grandma's church friends who got sued by someone who slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk in front of her house and then claimed that her sprained wrist had caused permanent psychological damage.

When I received a letter in the mail from an attorney's office, I held my breath. And away we go, I thought, tearing open the envelope nervously.

It was a short letter asking me to call their office to schedule a time to go over my mother's will. I was shocked. I didn't even know she had one. She never mentioned it. What could she possibly have to leave me other than the house and her car?

I arrived at their office on Wednesday the following week. The receptionist phoned Mr. Caulier that I had arrived and pointed toward his office at the end of the hall. Mr. Caulier introduced himself as my mother's lawyer and asked me to take a seat in the overstuffed leather chair facing his desk.

My mom never mentioned that she had a will, I said and perched on the edge of the chair. I figured it was going to be a short meeting.

He smiled at me and looked down at the open folder on his desk. She didn't want you to know about it until after she was gone. She had her reasons. He picked up an envelope and scooted it across the desk. She left you a letter. We should start with that.

My hand shook as I reached for the envelope. I scooted back in the chair and slid my finger under the sealed flap.

My Dearest Olive,

I am so sorry that I can no longer be there with you.

First and foremost, I want you to know how very proud I am of you! No mom could ask for a better daughter! You have always been so kind-hearted, thoughtful, and wise beyond your years.

I regret that you had to put your life on hold to take care of me. Though I know it wasn't easy and no child should have to go through that, you did it with such earnest compassion. Selfishly though, I am truly grateful for the time we got to spend together during my final year.

My biggest regret is that I didn't spend more quality time with you as you were growing up. I realize now that no job is worth that sacrifice. All that time spent working, and in the end, what did it serve me—or you? There is so much I would do differently in retrospect if I had the opportunity.

In the end, I have come to realize what a truly special gift life is. My biggest hope for you is that you don't waste a moment of it.

After my mom died, I became worried about what would become of you if I passed away. I took out a life insurance policy and have been paying into it ever since.

I had Mr. Caulier construct a trust on your behalf. It comes with only two requirements. Firstly, you are to use part of the money exploring the world. Get out of this box I have kept you stuck in your whole life. Go experience the beauty and thrill of this world and all it has to offer while you still have a chance. Secondly, finish your last two years of school. Choose a career path that allows you good work-life balance and room to excel. Be an independent strong woman.

Mr. Caulier will go over the details and stipulations of your trust.

My last wish for you, my love, is don't be afraid to open your heart to find your soulmate. Promise me you won't settle for someone who's less than you deserve.

With all my love—forever,

Mom

I read the letter slowly a second time, a tear sliding silently down my cheek.

When I could finally speak, I asked, How much is it?

Mr. Caulier handed me a sheet of paper from the file. I quickly scanned it to find the total sum. My jaw dropped in astonishment. It wasn't a grand sum, by any means, but it was more money than I had ever seen.

Mr. Caulier held out his hand to take back the paper. Shall we go over the rules?

We spent the next hour going over the agreement he had written, signed by both him and Mom.

First things first, we will set aside the money for your tuition. If you can get them to reinstate your scholarship, that's just more money for you in the end. Let me know if you need me to talk with the registrar. He paused to sip his coffee.

"Now for the five travel rules:

Number one, you must travel to twelve places.

Number two, only one of those places can be in the US; anywhere but Oregon. Being that you live here and all, that would defeat the purpose." He chuckled.

"Number three, obviously, the remaining eleven places must be international.

Number four, the eleven international places must be different countries. For example, you cannot go to different cities in the same country such as Rome and Venice, Italy.

Number five, you cannot go to the same place twice."

He looked at me over the top of his glasses. Got all of that?

I slowly nodded.

He continued, "Your trust will cover all the costs—within reason. If you have any questions about what ‘within reason' means, just ask. I don't see you as the type to go on extravagant shopping sprees or smashing up hotel rooms, so there shouldn't be a problem.

Since the house and car are paid off, you can work odd jobs to pay the utilities, groceries, and for your personal items. If you fall behind on the bills, you come to me.

Once you have completed your travels and secured your college degree, any remaining money in the trust is yours to spend as you wish. To be clear, you will not receive the balance of your money until both tasks are completed. That's a bachelor of science degree and eleven passport stamps. It shouldn't be too difficult. Remember, this is supposed to be fun and educational.

If you do not meet these requirements within three years' time, all the remaining money will go to charity. Of course, we have made provisions for circumstances such as if you were to