Hidden Past

Chloe stood next to her car and gazed at the scene before her. A rundown farmhouse, broken fences, and an old barn with the roof half collapsed in on itself. At one time, she had known every inch of the place. The gravel roads from North Farm, where she had lived with her family, to the South Farm buildings; the bunk house and spare barns where guests from the city would stay during the summer months. She and her siblings had enjoyed both ponds on the property and splashed in the creek that found its way through the woods and pastures alike. A favorite hang-out, the hollow tree on the bank of the creek’s main fork, even had a rope tied to it, dangling over the water. It was hidden deep on the property. She smiled, remembering how they would swing from that rope and let go over deepest part of the creek. It made hot summer days an adventure. On days when they were feeling less adventurous, they would walk the three miles up to the farm pool. Clear, cold, chlorinated water waited for their brown bodies to break the surface with a dive or bellyflop.

The farm had not been a typical rural plot of land with corn and beans growing in the fields. Those had been there, however families from the inner city visited every year for “Family Camp”. Then the farm was filled with running, laughing children, and worn-out adults, all happy to escape the asphalt of the city streets. They learned what cows looked like, went on hayrides, and occasionally helped with the farm chores – including feeding chickens, sheep, goats, and horses. Chloe had loved those summers, mostly. When she was overwhelmed by the busyness of all the people, she’d retreat to her hideout in the old barn.

Glancing up and down the road, Chloe reassured herself there was no one else around. Walking across the road, she stepped into the tall grass of the unkept front yard, making her way toward the barn. As she approached it, a flock of pigeons took off from the eaves, startling a gasp from her. After a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, she continued to the barn door. Pushing on the old wood, she felt the pinch of a sliver as it penetrated her palm.

“Shit,” she cursed softly, stopping to examine the reddening spot.

“Thank the gods for small favors,” she muttered to herself, noticing the small tip of the splinter was sticking out far enough to grasp with her manicured fingernails. Pulling it out, she flicked the offending piece of wood away and sucked on her palm a moment before returning to her efforts at opening the barn door.

Another shove moved the door enough for her to squeeze in. Even after probably years of disuse, the air was still heavy with the scent of musty hay and animal dung. She walked to the foot of the ladder that led to the loft and touched the cool wood, tugging tentatively to see if the rung would hold. She recalled climbing the rungs of the loft ladder, always testing each step before putting her full weight on it. She could almost hear the floorboards creak as they had when she moved from the ladder to the loft.

Looking up, she put her foot on the first rung and began pulling herself up, one rung at a time. When she reached the top, Chloe turned, sat on the edge, and looked back down at the dim room below. The flock of pigeons returned noisily to roost in the rafters. The light coming in from the collapsed section of roof allowed her to see them more clearly now, out of the direct sunlight. Flying rats, she had heard them called. She found them beautiful in their way, especially the blue and purple birds, the dirty white ones not so much.

Catching her breath and steadying herself before venturing further into the loft, she recalled how, when she was hiding out up here, she could hear the rustle of the sheep in their pens; the stomp of hooves from Silver and Scout as they shifted in their stalls, impatient to be let out of the old barn. It was quiet and comforting. She knew that if she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could make herself almost hear the lowing of the cows from the nearby field.

Feeling the prickle of tears behind her eyes, Chloe shifted and stood up, reminding herself of her purpose in coming here. If she was lucky, she would find the treasure she had hidden all those years ago. Carefully moving across the dusty boards, she made her way to the northern-most corner and said a silent prayer that no one had found it.

Her fingers found the penlight in her pocket and, pulling it out, she clicked it on and began searching for her eleven-year-old scratches. Twenty years was a long time. It would be nothing short of a miracle if the ring was still behind the loose boards; well, they had been loose back then. However, after she had pushed the small velvet sack behind them, she had done her best to secure the boards back in place with a nail, although her 11-year-old hammering skills had been somewhat lacking.

Crouching down, she saw the faint lines of spiderweb scrawl. A small heart with a crude C and W scratched in the middle of it. Chloe smiled to herself remembering how she had used Charlotte’s Web as an inspiration when trying to decide how to mark the secret hiding place. Charlotte loves Wilbur, C + W. Always a favorite book, she had known she would remember the marking. On her knees now, she scraped at the wood, prying at the bottom of the boards until she felt them give way. Using her penlight again, she flashed it around in the darkness seeing nothing at first. Then, after brushing away a pile of thick dust, she felt the rounded shape of the ring. Pulling it out, Chloe sat back on her heels and stared at the object in her hand.

It was filthy yet it was there. She rubbed it against her jeans and blew on it, trying to get as much of the caked-on dirt off as possible. Once she had cleaned as best she could, she slipped it on her finger and extended her arm out in front of her to get a better look. It felt heavy and warm. Closing her eyes, Chloe breathed in with a count of four and slowly exhaled to a count of five. Fresh air filled her lungs with the second breathe and she slowly opened her eyes as she exhaled again. He was there, standing in the loft a few feet from her. They smiled at one another, and she rose to meet him.

“Next time,” he said, “don’t wait so long to find me.”