The Penny

Donnell November 28, 2025 2 Comments

Welcome to Help From My Friends Friday. V. R. Barkowski is a former online mystery critique partner, who from the beginning of our association, I knew was a major talent. Her critiques were invaluable. Her submissions intelligent, breathtaking and always spine-tingling. On one occasion she submitted a short story for our thoughts. I found the story so well-written and so memorable, I didn’t have much to add. The Penny was originally published in Mysterical-E but the author retains the rights. In talking to V.R. I asked if I could run it on my blog for my readers’ enjoyment. She graciously agreed. I hope you enjoy as much as I did. ~ Donnell

The Penny

By V.R. Barkowski

Author V.R. Barkowski

Hugh and I left Ethan’s place just before midnight. We lived ten-minutes away and hoofed it to the party. It meant we could stay too late and drink too much, which we did. Tomorrow was trash day, and the neighborhood smelled of wet garbage. It was, as my dad used to say, as cold as a well-digger’s backside—although I’m paraphrasing. Scoured raw by the November wind, my skin burned, and my eyes ran like twin taps.

Hugh borrowed a flashlight from Ethan. Its pie wedge beam scythed a path in front of us and made the frost laced sidewalk glisten like shattered crystal. Hugh reached for my hand. After fourteen years, he knew how clumsy I was sober; he was not about to trust me under the influence of Mr. Cuervo.

The penny lay like a tiny flame under the only working street lamp. Defiant, it refused to be ignored. Hugh’s hand tightened around mine. He saw it, too.

I know people who take heed of every superstition, but I am not one of them. I step on cracks, walk under ladders and break mirrors without fear of cosmic reprisal. Pennies are spare change, hardly even that these days.

“See a penny, pick it up, all day long, have good luck.” Hugh sang the old rhyme, let go of my hand and bent to collect the coin.

“Leave it.” The words escaped before I could call them back. Too late. The penny rested in the flat of Hugh’s palm. He held it out to show me. I stared at the bit of copper and a bright, icy chill shimmied through me.

“See a penny, let it lay, have bad luck all through the day. Just hedging my bets, Lucy-girl,” he said.

Source: Secoura via Pixabay

Even in the poor light, I could see the brilliant white of his smile, the spark deep inside his gentle green eyes and something electric slid across the back of my neck. “Did you know that verse derives from pagan ritual?” I said. “The original verse talked about pins, though, not pennies. Pins were used in good luck spells.”

“Since when are you superstitious? Ah wait, it’s all that research into pagan religious practices you’re doing for Braithwaite. You should consider writing fiction, Lucy. Has to be more lucrative than researching this shit for other people. And you seem to have a knack for it—fantasy, I mean.” He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

I grabbed the flashlight from him and shined it in his eyes. “You are the one who picked that thing up.”

He laughed. The sound was warm, dark and rich like Callebaut bittersweet. I could see his breath in the air.

“That thing is a penny,” he said. “Are you really upset with me?”

“I don’t trust fate. I don’t pick up pennies, search for four leaf clovers, or carry a rabbit’s foot. I make my own luck. I’m in control, Hugh. You should know that about me by now.”

“What I know is, you need to lighten up.” He shivered. “Let’s get inside.” He looked down at the coin, studied it, shrugged then tossed it away. “There. Control restored.”

Fear dropped through me like a jagged weight. I’d been here before, felt this before, the absolute certainty that something had changed so irrevocably, that the past was lost forever. My eyes scoured the grass edging and sidewalk searching for the coin. Even with the flashlight, it was too dark to see. When I spoke, the sound came from a long way off, as if the words belonged to someone else.

“Why did you do that? Once you accepted the coin, you accepted the consequences. You can’t throw luck back, reject it, it doesn’t work that way. We can find it. Where did it land?”

He rolled his eyes. “What in the hell is the matter with you, Lucy? It’s a penny for chrissakes.” He crossed the street ahead of me and strode up the path to our front door. I jogged to catch up.

I’d left the heat on and the warmth of the house hit me like a shout. The tension seeped from my muscles, and the panic ebbed. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Probably is that asinine research. Please don’t be mad.” I cocked my head, batted my lashes, and pleaded in my most coquettish voice.

He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I’m not mad. Stunned, startled and dumbfounded maybe, but not angry. It’s fun to be surprised by the old ball and chain once in awhile.”

“I’ll have you know Hugh Randall Moffett, your wife is like black water, with depths you’ve yet to plunge, sides you’ve yet to explore.”

He grinned at me. “You don’t say? Think I’d like to check that out.” He reached down and pinched my ass.

The phone rang a few minutes after three. Through slitted lids, I watched Hugh crawl out of bed and stagger toward the kitchen. I sat up, held my breath and listened. At three in the morning, the best case scenario was a wrong number.

The ringing stopped. I heard Hugh’s voice then nothing. “Wrong number?” I called to him. No response. I called out again. “Everything okay?” Silence. I kicked off the covers, swung my feet to the floor and padded to the kitchen.

There was no movement in the dark room, only a liquid sound that made my skin crawl. I flicked the light switch. The kitchen was empty, the phone off the hook. I crossed the room, my eyes scanned down the length of black coil snaking the wall. There, behind the kitchen island, his back against a cabinet, the receiver cradled in his lap sat Hugh, his shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face.

The sight of him went straight to my heart. I bent over and touched his shoulder. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

His voice was wet and thick. “That was my dad. Paulie’s killed himself.”

The hairs rose along on my arms. I heard him wrong. Must have. “What?”

“My baby brother is dead, Lucy. He hung himself.”

“He wouldn’t,” I whispered. My knees buckled. I grabbed at the counter for support and burst into tears.

Paul was just a year old when I met Hugh. He was my little brother, too. I wanted to say something, to make it better, but there were no words. I knelt beside Hugh, put my arms around his bent form and pushed away the words running over and over in my mind.

See a penny, let it lay…

“When?” I asked.

…Have bad luck all through the day.

“A few hours ago. Mom and dad heard a noise from his room, didn’t think anything of it. Thought he was practicing judo. Can you believe it? Judo?” Hugh dropped his head, rocked back and forth and took a deep shuddery breath. “Mom woke up. Couldn’t get back to sleep. She got out of bed to take one of her pills, check the house. That’s when she found him. They’re blaming themselves. Dad is convinced if they’d checked out the noise they could have saved him. I told mom we’d fly out as soon as possible.” He buried his face in his hands and again his body shook with sobs.

I took him into my arms, held his head against my breast and stroked his hair. “We’ll get through this. It will never be okay, but we’ll get through.”

I felt his body jerk and he pulled away. He looked at me, his gaze challenging. “You told me it would be bad luck to toss away that penny. You knew.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You knew something bad was going to happen.”

“Hugh, that’s ridiculous. I overreacted about the penny, but you can’t blame my idiotic behavior for this.”

“Paul was a happy kid. You think it was coincidence he killed himself at practically the exact moment I tossed away that penny?”

“Yes, I do. Listen to yourself, to what you’re saying. We don’t know what was going on in his life. He lives three thousand miles away. He may have been upset over school, or a girlfriend. Maybe he got into drugs.”

“My dad said he was fine, same as ever.”

“A parent isn’t necessarily the best judge when something is wrong in a teenager’s life. You know that.”

A hard flare of anger crossed his face. “I have to find that penny.” He lifted himself off the kitchen floor.

“It’s almost four in the morning. You can’t go out there in the middle of the night. At least wait until daybreak. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to try. Your parents need you, and they need you to be strong. Go back to bed. I’ll bring something to help you sleep.”

It was more than an hour before he stopped talking about Paul and drifted off. I lay awake beside him, listening to him breathe, remembering Paulie as a toddler and thinking about the penny. Finally, I disentangled myself from the sheets and walked to the office to use the computer. I booked our plane reservations. The earliest flight was an evening departure. We’d have all day to pack and prepare.

I fell asleep at half past six, the phone rang at seven. Paul was still asleep. I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen.

“Hello.” I said, trying to catch my breath.

“Yes, hello. This is Molly Reardon, I’m a charge nurse at Boston Medical. Is this Eve Moffett’s, daughter?”

A cold sweat broke out under my pajamas and my muscles turned to water. “Daughter in-law, she’s my husband’s mother. What is it? Is Eve alright?”

“Mrs. Moffett wasn’t up to making the call.”

“Is this about her son, Paul?”

“No ma’am, your father-in-law. I’m so sorry, I wish I had better news, but Mr. Moffett suffered a stroke last night.”

I swallowed and closed my eyes to hold back tears. “Allen’s not—”

See a penny, let it lie…

“He’s in a coma. Mrs. Moffett really shouldn’t be alone right now.”

…All good luck will pass you by.

“My husband and I have seats on the earliest available flight, but it doesn’t get into Boston until late this evening.”

See a penny, let it lie…

“Is there any family nearby?”

…You’ll be sorry by and by.

“No, we’re it. Is Eve there? Can I talk to her?”

See a penny, let it lie…

“She’s sedated. When she’s awake, we’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

…All day long you’ll cry and cry.

I hung up the receiver and wept.

I shook Hugh awake at seven-thirty. Still groggy from the sleeping pill, he rubbed his eyes and blinked hard. When I repeated my conversation with the nurse, he stood up, walked to the closet, and began to dress.

The huge silence was more terrifying than last night’s tears. “Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s daylight, I’m going to find that penny. Are you going to help me or not? Your choice, Lucy.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll help, of course.”

I pulled jeans on over my pajamas, threw on a jacket, and we walked to where we’d found the coin the previous night. The morning was cold and clear, the sky a deep azure, the air like ice water. Everything bright and crisp.

Hugh went down on his hands and knees, combed through every inch of grass. His fingers ripped at the blades, coming back muddied and empty. The longer we searched, the more frantic he became, his body twitched, his breath came in great heaving gasps. Had we found the penny, would it have made a difference?

“It’s no use,” I said.

“I will find it. I won’t stop looking until I do.”

“Hugh, listen to me. You know deep down that coin had nothing to do with either Paul or your dad.”

“No, Lucy, I don’t know that. If you don’t want to help me look, go the hell back inside.”

“It’s a horrible coincidence, but—”

“This is my fault. I’ve done this. I have to make it right. Don’t you understand? I have to find that penny. I have to.” His red-rimmed eyes stood out like cigarette burns against his sallow skin. He wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand.

I took his arm and guided him toward our front door. “Let’s go inside for a little while, get warm, take a break.”

“I’m so exhausted I could sleep for a million years,” he said.

“There’s plenty of time before our flight, and I have some errands to run. Go to bed, rest. As soon as I get back we’ll start the searching again.”

Too tired to argue, he nodded. I tucked him into bed and held him until he fell asleep. After a quick shower, I put on fresh clothes and left the house. I was gone less than two hours.

It was ten past noon when I turned from the Esplanade onto our street. A police car blocked the road. I pulled over. There were a half dozen police vehicles, an ambulance and fire truck parked along the curb. Police strobes flashed blue and red on the faces of the watchers lined along the sidewalk. A dark shiver slid down my spine like a cold wind. I moved closer to the yellow ribbon that circled the area.

Hugh lay in the middle of street. I broke through the tape and ran toward him.

“Hugh!”

A police officer intercepted and held me back. I shrieked, struggled, fought to break his hold. “That’s my husband I have to get to him. Let me go, god damn you.”

Hugh hadn’t moved. Why weren’t they helping him? Lifting him into the ambulance?

I screamed at the officer. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Help him!”

See a penny, let it lie…

“One of your neighbors witnessed the accident. It appears your husband entered the street to retrieve something. He stepped in front of that pickup.” He motioned to a large black truck with a damaged front end. “The driver didn’t have time to slow the vehicle. Ma’am, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

…Some day soon you’ll surely die.

“No!” I shook my head, tears blinding me. ” I don’t believe you. I want to see him.”

The police officer guided me to Hugh’s still form. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping. I knelt beside him, and reached out to hold his hand one last time. In his palm lay a gleaming copper penny. Choking back sobs, I pressed his fingers closed around the coin and laid his hand over his heart.

“Lucy, come away,” said a gentle voice. It was my neighbor, Sara. She and the officer helped me to my feet and walked me to the curb.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Sara said. “It must be a great consolation to know Hugh was at peace, that he knew he was going to a better place.”

“Sara, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really, but Hugh was agnostic. He wasn’t convinced of either God or heaven.”

“You’re wrong, Lucy. I saw the accident. I ran to him, was by his side when he passed. His soul was at rest, at peace. He spoke to me.”

“He was conscious?” I stared at her.

“He was.” She nodded, her smile beatific. “And his final world were, ‘In God We Trust.'”

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About the Author: VR Barkowski is a recipient of both Al Blanchard Award and the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Colorado Gold for Mystery. Her short fiction has appeared in Mysterical-E, Best of Vine Leaves Literary, Spinetingler, and in several Best of New England Crime anthologies. Her debut novel, A TWIST OF HATE was published by Gale/Five Star. VR lives small and dreams big from her tiny desk in Salem, Massachusetts.