Out of The Blue

Chapter 20

     My cabin isn't burnt to ashes, but it's a mess alright. I had expected the worse from them. The only reason they didn't kill me was because they thought I knew what they were looking for; they needed me but if I didn't speak, they would have tortured out information. Unfortunate for both of us, they wouldn't have gotten anything from me – I had no clue – and I would have ended up being a broken piece of nothing. Maybe not that far... perhaps just purpled and blued. They had evil spilling out of their eyes like spilling drinks from a full cup – so full, it just had to spill. Overflow. That's the word. It overflowed from their eyes. Except for Evan, it's as if he's only half malicious. Maybe the rest that's not is from his mother. 

     Speaking of Evan's mother... I wonder who she could be, I wonder if she was in on my whole kidnap. I wonder if she even knows. I wonder how she looks like, probably a lot like Evan, sons always look more like their mothers. Maybe she has the same delicately sculpted nose as he does, buttoned and symmetrical. I find myself with a warm feeling beginning to stir inside of me and softly gasp in surprise when I feel the slight smile created on my face. What is wrong with you? I scorn at myself and push the thought away and try to banish it even from the deepest parts of my mind.

     The inside of my cabin is turned upside down. The curtains ripped from where they hanged and thrown to the ground. The books scattered across the floor; some pages ripped right out of their bodies. The chairs also scattered, looks like they had an outrage and took it out on my cabin. I wonder where they went next after finding that what they were looking for was not there. I would have wanted to see their faces of disappointment. Nevermind about them, I think to myself in disdain. I take a look at the map and examine it for a while. Where to next? I sit on the stairs of the porch and try to match what's in front of me to what's on the map. He drew a trail leading me to a river and over some stones that make a path to the other side of the river. Wait. That's where I was when I was escaping Evan. I look ahead with a smile because I know where it is with ease. I look back to the map and follow the drawn trail across the drawn river and see that it leads me to the third tree directly across the stones and it ends with an X on the base of that tree. So, it's buried.

     I get up, grab my shovel, and make my way to the river with the snow making a sizzling sound with every step I make. This is mind-boggling that I could have walked right on top of the box of keys. It was right under me. It was right next to me every single time I came here; every single time my dad and I came to my cabin. This time, the river isn't a flowing path of water. It's frozen but fall hard and you better pray you don't break through. I don't want to risk falling through the ice even though it looks thick, I'm scared so just in case, I make my way hopping from stone to stone until I get to the other side. I leap to solid ground and slightly pant as I make my way to the trees. There are three trees going in a straight line making a direct path following the stones. One, I whisper my counts as I pass by the first tree. Two. My heart is picking up it's pace and my breathing quickens with anticipation. You can see my breaths in the cold air. It's strange but I'm excited; this excitement feels strange but why? Maybe from all that's happened, a positive flutter, like excitement, seems foreign right now. Three. 

     I think this is the most beautiful tree from the ones here. I gaze at it's branches, following them to its top. The branches frozen and burned with cold buds of used-to-be flowers. This is that tree that blossoms with beautiful and tiny rosy-pink double flowers. I've seen it from time to time during the Spring, but I was too afraid to cross the river or even get close to it in fear that I might get lost. I did once get close enough, but I never crossed the river. Then my father saw and sternly told me that I must never do that again. He yelled a bit and forbid me to go anywhere near the water. No matter how beautiful I thought the flowers were, I wasn't allowed to be near the river. He probably got scared because he didn't want me to drown like I had almost drowned that time at the beach. 

     His urgency - his assertiveness to it, scared me so much, I obeyed... for a while. I really truly obeyed only after they were taken away though. I obeyed because I felt the guilt that took over for not listening to them when they were here. How I scared my dad while I contemplated my leaps to the other side. And then I wished he was there to keep me from sneaking; to tell me "don't you dare" with that warning smile as he giggled at my mischief. I was so young I was scared to cross, and I was so small I knew I wouldn't make it through the big leaps I had to make. But I would get close to the river to see this tree. The woods felt so enchanting at twilight while the Prunus 'Kanzan' still had its flowers and the stars twinkled from above.

     Now I'm finally here up close but no flowers. The following Spring after they weren't with me anymore that I snuck to my cabin and got close to the river to see the flowering tree, there were flowers. But it felt like they wouldn't flower like they did last Spring. Now I'm here and it feels like it could flower and not feel like the Springs following their forced departure. Time to dig. On the map, the X is marked on the right of the tree so that's where I start. I set my backpack aside and scoop big chunks of snow and dirt. He really buried it deep. I'm probably already four feet deep when I get up for a water break. Beads of sweat slide down my neck and back. I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead to push back the strands of hair lingering, impairing my vision. I get back to digging and right when I shuffle for more dirt, I hit something.

     I toss the shovel and use my hands to spread the remaining bunch of dirt away. I can feel the wooden box at the tip of my fingers. I brush off the remaining bits of dirt and expose the top of the box. I dig my fingers in on the sides of it and curl them around the box to rip it out from the ground. It's a wooden box similar to the one that contained the letters. Seems like he was planning this for a while. Maybe he planted this tree as part of his plan. For like a mark for him. I sit there with the box in my hands in astonishment. I let out a breath and a smile forms. Then a chuckle of surprise and happiness.

     "Wow," I whisper as I brush my fingers softly across the box, scared to destroy it in a way. I brush the fallen strands of hair away from my face and open the box. Three copper keys reside inside right on top of a letter. I carefully take the letter and read it aloud proudly.

I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you, my dear. These keys are valuable. One is for the house I Willed to you in Falletans, France. The other is for a room in that house, you must open that room for another very important letter. You need that letter because that is where I explain what the third key is for. I hope you've enjoyed this tree, it's beautiful, one of my favorite flowering trees. At the very bottom of the box is a map to your house. I hope it's still good for your time, hopefully not much has changed so you may find it.

     "So he did plant this tree!"

     I put the letter back in the box and close it. I put it safely in my backpack and put all the dirt I dug up back in its place. I don't want anything to happen to this tree; it holds memories I had forgotten I had.