“The Lost Wedding Ring.” - Metal Detecting Fiction by Terry R. Soloman

During my research to find new areas to metal detect, I found a field behind a local supermarket that was a park from 1925, to 1980.

Running along the north side of the field is an eighth-mile long rock cliff, and the east and south sides are bordered by wet marshland.

The only way to access the field now, is through 100-yards of very heavy brush and woods that separates it from a small parking lot

behind the supermarket.

I decided to try and get to the field with my metal detector and see what I could find. When I pulled into the back of the store I didn’t

see any other cars. Good sign! I got myself together as quickly as I could and got on into the woods before somebody from the

supermarket could tell me I was trespassing.

Studying the site with old aerial photographs from the 1940s, and newer satellite imagery on Google Earth, did not prepare me

for how difficult it would be to get through the heavy tangle of brush and thistles. I really had to fight my way slowly through the

thorn bushes and brambles that caught my hat, pants, sleeves, and skin with almost every step.

After about fifteen-minutes, a few scratches and a lot of cussing, I finally made it to the clearing. I took a quick look around the

large field, turned on my machine and dialed in my settings. I decided to start working my way to the far side of the field and turned

to start swinging. Well, I almost jumped out of my skin!

There was an older man swinging a metal detector not 100-feet away from me! His back was to me as he swept his coil back and

forth, and I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me either. When he got over to the other side of the field and turned around, I waved to

try and get his attention. He either didn’t see me or, just decided not to acknowledge me.

I shook it off and walked down to the east end of the field to give him plenty of room. I started finding some clad coins from the

1970s, and even a few silver coins from the 1950s and ‘40s. I had pretty much forgotten about the old man when I heard a voice

ask, “Finding anything?”    

He was standing about 10-feet from me, with a pleasant smile and easy demeanor. I said, “Couple of silver dimes and a war

nickel so far, how about you?” He told me he hadn’t found anything yet, but that he was really looking for his daughter’s lost

wedding band. He seemed like a gentle fellow, probably about 70 or so, but in pretty good shape for his age. What struck me

was his metal detector. It was an old Garrett BFO machine from around 1975, and it looked brand new!

He said his daughter had bought a house around the corner and was down here playing with her kids when she lost the ring.

He explained how it had belonged to his now deceased wife, before he had given it to his daughter. He got sort of a sad look on

his face and said, “When I got it for my wife, I had it engraved with ‘R.I. Loves C.I.’ which is our initials. My Wife died before

our Daughter got engaged, but it turns out the initials on the ring were perfect for Ray and Cindy, because his last name is Ingram,

ours is Ivers, so I knew her Mother was looking down on her, and I wanted her to have it.”

I told him I would give a holler if I beeped it. He touched the bill of his tweed cap, said he appreciated it, and started swinging

back toward the other end of the field. I put my headphones on and looked down at my detector to turn it back on. The thought

hit me that I should ask the old guy how to get back out to the parking lot without getting all scratched up. I turned around and

started to take off my headphones to ask him, but he was gone!

There were at least forty-feet of open field between me and the closest wood line, and the old guy had vanished. I scanned the

wood line again, but he was gone. I started to think maybe I had imagined the whole conversation. I shook my head, put on the

headphones and started swinging the detector.

“Zip-Zip!” the signal was strong and the tone was high and sweet. I turned 90-degrees to the target and swept it with the coil

again. Zip-Zip! I dropped down on my knee and pulled out my Lesche, cutting a generous plug in the damp soil. As I folded the

turf flap out of the hole I saw it immediately – a small gold ring! For a second or two I just knelt there looking at in the dirt.

I did a little happy dance right there on my knees, and picked up the ring to clean it off. It was a plain gold wedding band

marked 18K, and inscribed “R.I. Loves C.I.” A very strange feeling came over me. I was happy about finding the ring, but

there was something about the old guy, and I still couldn’t figure out how he had left the field so quickly!

After finding the ring I decided to call it a day. I thought I would take a look around and see if I could find the path the old guy

and his Daughter were using. After about 20-minutes of frustration, I finally went back the way I came in. When I got back out

to the car, scratched up and bleeding, I looked like I had been trampled by a stampeding herd of feral cats!

That afternoon I cleaned up my finds and laid them out on the kitchen table to admire. I had done pretty well for myself, detecting

four silver quarters, a Franklin silver half-dollar, three silver dimes, a 1942 nickel, and about $2.00 in 1970’s clad coins – not to

mention the gold wedding band!

After dinner, my wife went through the phone book, and found a “R. Ingram,” on a street about a block from the supermarket. I

called the number and got an answering machine, so I left my name and number and said I thought I had found their wedding band.

Over the next week I left several more messages but got no response.

I finally decided to drive by the address and see if there was anyone home. After picking up my Wife from work that afternoon, we

drove over to the house. There were a couple of cars in the driveway and the lights were on inside, so we pulled up and parked. I rang

the doorbell, and an attractive woman in her 40’s answered the door. I asked, “Are you Cindy?” The woman looked surprised, and

then angry! She said, “Are you the guy that keeps calling here about a lost wedding band?” I started to say yes, but she didn’t give me

a chance.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her saying, “I don’t know what kind of scam you two are trying to pull on my Mother,

but I’m here to tell you I’m going to have you arrested! You have caused a lot of pain in our family, and I will not stand for it!” Both my

Wife and I just kind of stood there with our mouths open in total shock. I finally said, “Hold on miss. I’m just trying to return a wedding

band I found over behind the supermarket. I don’t want anything from your Mother.” The woman angrily asked, “What makes you think

it belongs to my Mother?” At that point I was pretty sure this had been a huge mistake.

“Look, I apologize,” I said. “I met this old gentleman, a Mr. Ivers I think. He was metal detecting over behind the supermarket, and he

told me his Daughter had lost her wedding band over there while she was playing with her children. Obviously I have made a mistake.”

The woman looked confused, almost dazed. My Wife asked her if she was alright.

“Can I see the ring please,” she asked softly. I took the ring out of my pocket and gave it to her. As she looked at it she began to cry.

My Wife put her hand on her shoulder and again asked her if she was alright. The woman was weeping now. A man came out of the

house and asked her what was wrong as he shot me an icy look. She put the ring in his hand and said, “He found Mom’s wedding ring.”

After examining the ring the man looked at me with tears in his eyes and angrily demanded to know how I had gotten his Mother’s ring.

I started to tell him about meeting Mr. Ivers, when he suddenly put his finger in my face and said, “My Grandfather died 36-years ago pal,

so stop lying right now!” I was stunned, completely speechless. His Grandfather? For an instant the four of us just stood there, frozen

in time.

I took a step back instinctively pulling my Wife behind me. “Screw this,” I said, put my arm around my Wife and started for the car.

The woman called after us saying, “No! Please, wait!” I was really freaked out, and just ignored her as I put my Wife in the car and

closed her door.

The woman was walking toward me now. “Please, what did the man in the park look like? What did he say?” The man who got in

my face was still standing on the porch, examining the ring. I put my hand up in a motion for her to stop and said, “Look, I don’t know

what the hell is going on, but if that’s your Mother’s ring then just keep it. I don’t want anything from you.” I started to go around to the

driver’s side when she said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, wait!”

“My Mom lost that ring in 1975. I was seven, and he was nine,” she said, pointing to the man on the porch. “We were throwing my

Brother’s new football around and she lost her ring somehow. She was heartbroken because it had belonged to her Mother before

her.” My Wife was out of the car now with her arm around the teary woman’s shoulder. I said, “So who is Mr. Ivers, the guy that told

me about the ring at the old park?” The woman began crying uncontrollably again.

My wife was trying to comfort her, offering a tissue from her pocketbook. I hadn’t noticed the man walking over to the car until he

took his Sister’s hand. “Mr. Ivers was our Grandfather,” he said in a soft, gentle voice, all of his anger and mistrust now gone.

Hugging his Sister he continued, “Pop-pop had a heart attack and died in that park 36-years ago. He was looking for Mom’s

ring with his new metal detector.”  My legs suddenly became rubbery and I sat down on the curb, stunned…

We stood as “Here Comes the Bride” flowed joyously from the organ and filled the small church with music. It had been almost

eight-months since my encounter with Mr. Ivers, and today we were guests at his Great Granddaughter’s wedding. A ray of

sunshine came through the stained glass windows, illuminating the gold band the Bride wore on a delicate chain around her neck. I

smiled as I caught sight of him standing at the back of the church. He smiled back at me, tipped his tweed cap and disappeared.