Jenny’s blond curls were blowing in the summertime breeze as she spread out her blue blanket in the meadow behind her house. The sun soaked into the nine year-old’s already pink cheek speckled with little brown freckles. She let go of the green leash connected to siderian husky puppy named Jasper. Jenny opened the wicker basket she brought and pulled out a little red rubber ball. Jasper leaped up, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. The red ball soared through the air and disappeared into the thick grasses surrounding the meadow followed by a blur of black and white fur. While she waited for Jasper to return, Jenny pulled out a can of lemonade from the basket. The sweet and sour liquid refreshing her tongue and coaxing her dry throat. Jasper reappeared from the grasses but in his mouth was not the rubber ball but a little black book. He dropped it into Jenny’s lap and then retreated for the ball he left.
The little book was backed by an old leather cover. Around the binding was a frayed piece of string wrapped around the book several times. She immediately hoped it was a treasure map. While she pictured herself with a crew of pirates finding the treasure and gaining all the wealth of the world, Jasper returned with the ball. He set it down next to the daydreaming Jenny and laid his chin on her folded legs breaking her from her trance. She flashed her crystal blue eyes down at her companion and petted him lovingly.
She unraveled the book gently because of its crumbling condition. It looked as if someone had brought it everywhere they went. The pages were yellowed and the penmanship was faded, unreadable. Jenny flipped the delicate pages to find that the words became more and more readable. The top of the page read “Dear Diary,” . She read on and found the date of June 15, 1955, which would be 50 years ago next Monday. The entry spoke about the writer’s birthday and how the next day they were going to be ten years old. From the penmanship, Jenny assumed the writer was a female. Then the writer wrote about her father yelling. the last words were He’s coming.... Jenny flipped a few pages and noticed there were no more entries after that. She sensed the fear in the writer’s words. It was a fear she also was quite familiar with. Her own father was an intimidating man, harsh and forceful.
As she connected with the writer of the little black book, a burn on her back that she received when her father lost his temper and threw a boiling pot of water at her was throbbing. Thankfully the pan missed her but her back was doused with the boiling water. The pain made her close the book and put it in her basket. She finished her picnic with Jasper and laid there until the sun started to set.
Going back home was always hesitant to Jenny but she knew that her mother was going to get home soon. Her mother was a frail woman with a kind heart. She would never fight back when her husband lost his temper, she would just take whatever he dished out to her. When Jenny was there, her mother had this extra strength inside of her to keep going, as did Jenny when her mother was around. They were there for each other. They could not stop it, but they could at least ease the after-pain. Jenny’s father slept alone while Jenny and her mother slept in two twin beds side by side. Her mother would make breakfast every morning before she left. She always left before her husband woke up. Next Jenny would wake up and clean the house. She would reheat her father’s breakfast and set it out for him. Jasper slept outside in the garage because her father said he either sleeps outside of sleeps forever. She would back her backpack and basket and go out to the meadow with Jasper just before her father woke up. He worked at an outdoor ice skating rink that is only open in the winter. Jenny liked the winter because her dad was gone most of the day. Out in the field, Jenny would play fetch with Jasper, picnic, sketch, write, and just lay. That was her escape from her angry father.
The next day Jenny went out to the field and read more of the book. It talked about an abusive father and her worry for her mother’s safety. One day she mentioned a little brother that was three years old. She said she started taking him with her to the field. Her mother started working and she did not want him home alone with her father. She called him Willy. A needle stabbed at her heart. Her father’s name was William and whenever she heard it she was in pain. This time it was different and the pain turned from its usual sharp quick stab to a dull thumping in her heart. It was like something was trying to tell her something. The pain was interrupted by the sun setting and she knew she had to get home.
At home she asked her mother if her father had a sister.
“Yes he did, but she died at a very young age.”
“How old was she?”
“Only about nine or ten. Your age I suppose.”
“How old was dad when she died?”
“Oh he was young sweetheart, just a toddler about three years old. What is this sudden curiosity about your father’s family?”
“I think I might have something you might want to look at...” She handed her the little book from her backpack. Her mother studied it and looked around to make sure her husband was not up and around. She began to unravel the frayed string and read the pages that were not faded.
“Where did you find this?” She said with a puzzled look on her face.
“Jasper found it when I threw him his ball.”
“Go grab Jasper without waking your father. Wait for me behind the house. I’ll be out in a minute. If we go at the same time, he might be suspicious.” Jenny did not know what was going on but according to her mother’s serious expression she did as she was told. She waited outside for no longer than five minutes and her mother was creeping around the house with a flashlight and the book. They walked to the meadow and let Jasper sniff the book and he headed off into the field with Jenny and her mother close behind.
They came to a little pink ribbon hanging from a little tree branch. Jenny looked up and saw something in front of her. She walked towards it with her mother behind her and came to a very small clearing of the tall grass. In the center were two crosses in the ground made of two sticks tied together with string. One of the crosses was slightly larger than the other one. Jenny’s mother fell to her knees sobbing. She finally understood. Jenny knew what happened, something she was afraid of for herself and her mother.
The next day they went to the police and asked for records of the situation. The only thing they had was that they found a little boy by the name of William looking like he’s been hiding in the field for about a week covered in dried blood and bruises. They sent him into foster care because his father was in jail for attempting to rob a bank on June 15, 1955 at 11:45 p.m. He lived in foster care until he was an adult. He never really connected with any of his families. They all reported that he seemed to be deep in thought and angry, one family even used the word trapped. Once he turned eighteen, he was gone and no one heard of him again.
“What happened to his father?” Her mother asked.
“He escaped one day and we found him later walking along the side of the road with a heated metal coat hanger. We could not prove that he had already branded someone, so we just put him back in jail. He then died there a couple weeks later,” replied the officer. Her mother thanked him and left in a rush with Jenny close behind.
They got home and her mother had a strange strength in her. She drove and walked with a purpose as if not even her husband could stop her. Her mother marched right up to her father and lifted up his wrinkled plaid oxford revealing a brand on his back in the shape of a hanger. He tried to fight back but she would not budge. She told him to follow her and he reluctantly did, a new side to her father that she did not think even existed. Jenny grabbed Jasper and they all walked out to the field, to the grave site. Jenny’s father was hesitant on the outskirts of the field but continued. When he saw the crosses, he stopped dead in his tracks. Then he did something Jenny did not even think was possible, he cried.
After hugging and apologies, the family returned to their house that now seemed a little brighter. Jenny’s mother looked for some therapists for her husband twice a week. She found a good one that dealt with domestic abuse. The family became a family again and Jenny’s father worked on ways to release his angry past like chopping wood in the backyard and going for walks in the field. The little broken family was now filled with love and happiness. Lastly, Jasper was now allowed to sleep in the house without consequence.