Amber finished the letter. Her friends reflected quietly.
“This whole box is filled with his letters and diaries,” she said.
“Who was he, Amber? Who was he really?”
“John Battle’s real name was John Beulah. He was my father.”
Her friends gasped.
Amber went on to tell them what she knew of his life from his letters and diaries, that he had been a lawyer, about the drunken driving accident that destroyed his family. She told them about his time in prison, about the cancer and his recent plot to find his daughter and reconcile with her.
“He came back for you!” Matt said.
Amber smiled sadly. “With only a few short months to live and years to make up for, he didn’t know how to just show up in my life and make things right.”
“He didn't want to freak you out,” Toby assumed.
“I know... Still... Hey... My father and me? We ran out of time… But I still have you.”
Her friends joined her for a group hug.
“And now for the baby’s name. I’m naming him John. John Beulah Junior.”
Toby shuffled his feet. “Amber, if you’re going to give the baby away, do you think it’s right to give him a name?”
“I’m not giving the baby away. He’s mine, I love him and I’m keeping him.”
“Awesome!” Matt said.
“That’s a good decision,” Toby agreed.
“Can I baby-sit?” Marie said.
“Are you absolutely sure about keeping the baby?” Beads of sweat crowded Julio’s forehead.
Amber’s tired eyes smiled. “Hey, look around. The world is full of messed up kids and adults. Maybe we will be, maybe we won’t be. Who really knows until we’re able to look back over the years at what we did and didn’t do? Don’t worry, Julio. I made an adult decision.”
“You all did today,” Mrs. Powell reminded them.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Anxious Julio, Toby, Matt and Marie sat across from Mr. Petrie in the bank. He was examining their diplomas. Amber sat in a side chair, softly rocking a baby carrier with her foot.
“Your diplomas seem to be in order,” the banker finally said. “So, I guess it’s time for me to pay what’s due.” He pulled out a ledger sheet of checks and offered a pen to Amber. “Miss Beulah... I'll need your signature on these.”
Amber signed the checks and handed them back to Mr. Petrie. As he passed out the checks, her friends stared at her with dumbfounded looks.
“I don’t get it,” Toby said. “Why did you sign the checks?” “Yeah,” said Julio. “We thought the money came from Mr. B!”
“Actually? It was a little scheme hatched by Mrs. Powell and
me,” Amber said. “The box in the woods and the letter? My
idea. I didn’t know what else to do to motivate you. I was
losing you all and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“But the money, Amber. Where did you get it?”
“Miss Beulah inherited a substantial amount of money
from an insurance settlement,” said the banker with a wink.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
It was a spring day like no other.
The Five Pearls drove to Shooks Run in Matt’s new car. It was a cheap heap but the tags were good and he had insurance.
Julio had a six pack of beer on his lap and Toby munched on a taco he brought from his new job at a fast food restaurant.
At the park, Marie volunteered to carry Amber’s baby to the creek. “How do you like living with Mrs. Powell, Amber?”
“I love it. She’s so good to the baby. We’re almost approved as a National Historic Site!”
“That’s great!” said her friends.
“When I told the society’s steering committee the story of how we all studied in her house and passed the GED, that probably swung the vote.”
“Really?” Marie asked.
“Just kidding,” said Amber.
When they reached the intersection in the woods where the path veered downhill from the bridge, the pearls opted to stand on the bridge instead.
“Nobody wants to sit on the old log?” Julio asked.
“Not today,” Amber said. “I like the view up here just fine.”
“I can’t believe I start college in a month,” Matt said.
“Or that I’m moving to California!” Marie seemed excited.
“So this is it, huh? This is how it ends?” Toby said. “The end of our little sanctuary in the woods. When I get old? I'm going to bring my kids here and tell them, ‘this is where my life was changed forever.’”
“The end of youth,” Julio finally realized.
“Thank God!” Amber said with relief.
They found themselves staring up at the old, black Cottonwood together. It was in full bloom this time of year.
“If this tree could talk!” said Amber, “Oh, what a story it could tell!”
The Five Pearls headed back towards Matt’s car. Julio took one last look at the bridge.
Speed Racer was there now, at the other end, sitting on a new bike and wearing a new helmet.
“It’s my birthday today,” said the kid. “Can I cross the bridge for free?”
Julio laughed and swept his hand for the kid to pass. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “Today I’m giving you the bridge. It’s yours to keep until the next schmoe comes along.”
“What about that log down there?”
“The log? Hmmm,” Julio thought, rubbing the top of his head. “I suppose you get the log, too.” He crossed the bridge and grabbed the small boy’s bike by the handlebars. “But only under one condition.”
“What’s that?” Speed Racer asked nervously.
“You leave the trees alone. No poking at them with a knife, no pissing on them.”
“Sure,” said the kid. “I like trees.”
Julio tapped the kid on his helmet and turned to run back to his friends.
“Hey Mister Julio,” the bewildered kid asked. “Why you letting me have it all?”
“We don’t need it anymore,” Julio smiled. “We’ve entered phase two of our lives.”
“What’s phase two?”
“I don’t know yet, but it sure better beat my phase one!” He hurried away and joined his friends.
Speed Racer waited for the older kids to drive off. He still sat on his bike, hands tight on the steering bar, staring down at the small creek that ran below his feet. He stomped on the bridge and heard a thong thong sound. He studied the log, thinking it might make a nice Indian canoe for future adventures. Then he looked up, up, up at the big black Cottonwood. It seemed alive with big furry arms and tufts of wild hair way at the top.
“This place is mine now,” Speed Racer decided. “Now all I have to do is find me some friends.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Big Bill Hogan sat at his cluttered insurance desk and drank.
“Son of a gun. The dead man’s kid has her money,” he laughed. “Now why in the hell did he leave that old lady a chunk of it, too? Doesn’t make any sense to me. She was nothing to him.”
He sat at his desk for another hour until the whisky bottle and his brain were both empty. He was too drunk to drive home now. But then again, everybody in America drives drunk. The odds are with me. He careened to his feet, put on his suit coat and waddled to the door of the office. He stared back at the empty whisky bottle on his desk and cursed it.
“Nothing but grief from you,” Big Bill complained. He managed his way back to his desk and fumbled with the buttons on the telephone. A voice answered on the other end. “Honey? It’s me. Can you come pick me up? I’m too drunk to drive again.”
He pulled the receiver away from his ear as a scratchy female voice yelled at him. After a short tirade, his exasperated wife said she was on her way.
About the author
Barry James Hickey was born in Chicago in 1955, lived in his twenties in Colorado and spent over a decade in Holly
wood. He has always had a passion for writing. Besides successful careers as a screenwriter, musician, stage, film and television actor, he enjoyed a few years as an alternative high school English teacher on which this story is based. His adventures have taken him to such exotic locales as India, Thailand, the Philippines, Greenland, Greece and Turkey. He presently lives in Colorado with his wife and two dogs.
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