The Book Buried Below

The large buck stands its ground, feet planted in the grass. All of my concentration is focused on the delicate creature staring back at me. My brows furrow as I squint my eye, waiting for the telescope on my rifle to focus. Behind me, my father slowly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, causing a branch to snap underneath him. The deer flinches at the sound and my body tightens as I begin to panic. The buck takes half of a step in my direction before swiftly darting away, back into the dark shadows of the trees.

"Damn it." I mutter under my breath.

"Shoot." My dad huffs, flopping onto a large tree that now lays on its side against the ground. "Sorry Wy. My foot got all tingly." A laugh escapes from his lips but soon it turns into a violent cough, ruining any chance of us seeing another buck that size. Or any other creature at all.

Above us, birds of all sizes flutter out of their cozy nests and up into the gray sky. I toss my rifle in a small pile of wet leaves and yank my bright orange hat off my head, allowing my blonde hair to escape from captivity. When the coughing ceases, my father presses his hands against the fallen tree and pushes himself back on his feet.

"It's getting a bit cloudy anyway," he croaks. "Might be best for us to head back."

I nod my head and kick at the ground in frustration. We haven't gotten anything this year and the season's almost over. Everything is almost over. My dad notices my sudden increase in frustration and waddles over to me with his hands pressed against his back.

"Hey, Wyatt." He says gently. "Don't freak out. We can come back tomorrow. John said he's not coming out at all this weekend so we'll have this whole section of the woods to ourselves."

My dad's right, I shouldn't freak out. Yet, my frustration gets the best of me and I stomp away from him, heading towards our dirty white truck a few yards away from our setup. I ignore my father as he calls after me, frantically gathering our rifles and snacks. I know I shouldn’t be angry at him, and quite frankly, I’m not angry at him.

My father has been visiting the hospital for a few months now. At the beginning, he just had chest pain. I assumed it was just old age getting the best of him, but two weeks ago the doctor informed us that my father had developed lung cancer in his right lung. The cancer is treatable, but ever since my mom died we haven’t had a ton of money coming in, and we don’t have enough to afford the treatment.

I purposely drag my feet along the dirt as I, once again, tuck my feelings away and run from my problems. Suddenly my foot stops against something in the dirt and I frantically raise my arms up to shield my face from the ground. My face slams into the ground. I quickly bring my hands to my mouth, checking for broken teeth. Pain exploads up through my jaw as I slowly open my mouth. Pressing my hands into the cold dirt, I push myself onto my knees and allow my eyes to scan the area.

Somehow, a stray beam of sunlight had slithered its way through the clouds and trees and landed perfectly on a shiny foreign object a few feet away from me. I squint my eyes as the sun bounces off of the object and shines straight into my eyes. Still on all fours, I crawl towards the shiny object. From the top of the trees, the birds laugh at me as I continue to crawl across the forest floor like a crazy person.

My nails fill with dirt as I claw at the ground for quite some time. The Earth finally releases the object from its tight grip, and I am able to see what it is. Everything around me goes quiet. The scarce amount of leaves on the trees pause their dances as the wind stops. A small tin box rests in my hand. It feels as if it might disintegrate just resting in my hand.

My father passes by me with his arms full and says, "I'm going to put these in the truck. Meet ya in there?"

"Yeah, one second." I tell him, never taking my eyes off the tin box.

I brush my fingers against the box to wipe away the dirt. A small, dried up leaf softly lands on the box beside my hand. When I brush the leaf away I notice a small engraving on the corner of the box.

J.N.

Full of curiosity, I pick at the latch keeping the box closed. It opens easily with a soft click. My mouth drops open wide, and my eyes open even wider. An abundance of $100 bills are neatly wrapped inside the box, all tied together with a stretchy rubber band. I flip through each individual crisp stack. There's at least $20,000 in here. Underneath the small pile of green paper rests a small black notebook. The same initials on the box are printed on the dark cover of the notebook.

I whip my head around as I hear the doors of our truck slam. My father waves to me and a goofy smile spreads across his face.

"Be there in a second." I yell at him, cupping my hands around my mouth.

He responds by sticking his thumb straight up in the air and returning to the truck. I run a hand through my explosive hair and release a sigh, observing my new discoveries.

I quickly flip open the small notebook and hope to find a clue to who this book belongs to. I'm quickly disappointed when I discover that most of the pages are completely blank. All but the last, which reads:

You’ll probably need this more than I do. Enjoy :)

-J.N.

The note is written in sloppy cursive that’s almost impossible to read. The same initials from the cover and the box match the ones at the bottom of the note. I run a hand over the grainy paper before softly shutting the notebook.

“Wyatt!” My father yells. Pulling my eyes away from the notebook, I look up to see my father waving his left arm out the window. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom! Move it!”

I stick my index finger straight up in the air and shout, “One second!”

I reread the note probably six more times, absorbing the information and memorizing the handwriting. You’ll probably need this more than I do. What does that mean? Swarmed in confusion, I push myself onto my feet and begin walking in the direction of the truck.

The walk to the truck seems like years. My head fills with scenarios. I could use this money in so many different ways. We could use it to pay for my father's treatment, or to pay for college, or even something silly like getting a dog.

My father’s eyes follow my every move as I approach the truck. He smiles weakly and begins to fiddle with the radio controls. As I climb into the truck, I’m blasted in the face with warm air seeping through the heat vents. I squint my eyes before they can dry out from the intense blast of air. I rest the box on my lap and turn to face my father.

“Whatcha got there?” He asks, scratching at his beard.

“Uh, well..” I stutter. “Umm. I found this and I thought, uh maybe, we could use it in some way.” My hands tremble as I extend my arms out and push the box out towards him. His arms remain in his lap as his eyes flick between me and the box. Slowly, he reaches his left hand out and grapes the box.

I watch as he slowly peels open the top of the box. His hand flies up to cover his mouth and the box quickly shuts. My father’s head slowly turns in my direction, his hand still hovering above his mouth. His head shakes back and forth but his remains on me.

“Oh, no no no.” He says quietly. “No, absolutely not. Where did you get this money?”

“I just found it.” I say plainly.

“Where?” He shouts at me.

Shocked by his reaction, I stare at him in silence before continuing.

“I just found it buried in the dirt.”

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing to the small notebook still resting in my hands.

“Oh, this was also in the box.” I hand him the dark notebook and continue observing him, hoping his reaction won’t be as bad as when he saw the money. He slowly reads the note. His eyes scan each word and it takes him some time to look away, even though there are only a few words written on the paper. I notice a change in him. Discomfort, maybe.

“D-dad?” I stutter.

“J.N.” He practically whispers.

I tilt my head closer to him and try to pull his attention away from the notebook.

“What?”

“J.N.” He repeats. “Those were your mother’s initials.”