The Buried Book (9 page)

CHAPTER 16

How did your parents punish you when you broke the rules?

Jasper took the long way home. He didn’t want to risk running into Hoyt’s bull, Nicodemus, but mostly he was terrified of what would happen when he arrived back at his uncle’s cabin. The dirt roads were deserted as he walked the two miles back to the tiny shack where his mother had left him without any explanation a month earlier. He tried not to think of their ’47 Chevy driving away.

The wind whipped up a chill in the air. Summer was over.

A huge oak tree towered over the far end of Harris Road. Squirrels chattered at each other, and acorns rained down, pelting the ground like hail with each gust of wind. Jasper stood under the great tree and gazed up at the leaves that would soon be dying. A few low, thick branches reached out over the road. Jasper considered climbing onto one and hiding there until the whole world forgot him. A broken tree swing hung from a frayed rope looped over one of the far branches. The other rope had snapped years ago. Jasper walked over to it and lifted the splintered board that had once been the seat. It might’ve been his mother’s swing back when she was small like him.

He dropped the board and wondered what she would do with him if she were the one to get the note in his hand. She’d spanked him before but never the way Miss Babcock had done. His mother always lost heart after two or three whacks. She’d end up looking like she’d been the one getting hit and didn’t seem to notice if he was crying or even breathing. It would take hours of him acting happy before she’d crack a smile again. Once she smiled, everything would be all right.

Acting happy wouldn’t cut it with Uncle Leo and Aunt Velma. Jasper could still see his uncle pointing a shotgun at his favorite cow’s head. The man hadn’t even flinched when he pulled the trigger. He’d loved that cow, probably more than he loved his good-for-nothing nephew.

Jasper trudged along the last bit of Harris Road and turned down the two-track drive to his doom. Wayne stopped him before he’d reached the door.

“Pop’s out in the shed,” he said. “You need to go talk to him. Ma already knows.”

“You told her?”

“Yeah. She usually knows how to break bad news, and I didn’t want you to go in cold. Pop can sometimes . . . well, he can get real mad if you don’t talk to him right.”

“What do I say?”

“Ma says he’s already in a mood because the damned tractor’s still leakin’. So what you gotta do is go in like a man. No snivelin’, no excuses. Just tell ’im what you done and don’t leave nothin’ out. If he reads somethin’ in that note you didn’t say yourself, he’ll whup you double hard.”

Jasper nodded, then dropped his eyes. “I didn’t read the note.”

“Give it here.” Wayne grabbed the note and read aloud:

Dear Leonard and Velma Williams,

I regret to inform you that your nephew caused a disruption in school today. Please discuss this issue with Jasper so that he may continue his education here.

Sincerely,

Miss Ellen Babcock

“So what do I say?” Jasper asked. Miss Babcock left out some major details.

“Tell ’im everything. You leave somethin’ out, I guarantee he’ll find out about it, and there’ll be hell to pay. Farmers talk, and I wouldn’t put it past ’im to go up to the school himself.”

Jasper nodded again and turned his feet toward the barn. For some horrible reason, he thought of Sally the cow and the sound of her screams. The spit dried up in his mouth.

“Don’t chicken out now.” Wayne nudged him. “Worst whupping I ever got, I lived through it just fine. Couldn’t sit for a week, but I lived. Didn’t even leave a scar.”

This didn’t make Jasper feel any better. By some inner machinery beyond his control, his feet started moving toward the shed.

The unforgiving smell of motor oil, metal, and sweat greeted him at the door.

“Uncle Leo?” he whispered to the pair of boots sticking out from under the tractor.

The boots didn’t respond.

“Ex—excuse me? Uncle Leo?” he said a little louder, crouching onto his haunches so he could see the rest of his uncle. The kerosene lamp lit up the undercarriage of the tractor. It was an upside-down metal labyrinth of a world.

“Hmm?” Uncle Leo dropped a hunk of metal with a clank. “Hand me that socket wrench.”

Jasper searched the toolbox on the ground.
Socket wrench.
He picked up something that might’ve been a socket wrench and set it in his uncle’s huge, greasy hand.

“Dammit, boy! This here’s a pipe wrench,” the man barked, sliding out from under the tractor. His face was spotted with oil, and his eyes were filled with disappointment. He flipped through the different metal things in his toolbox, tossing the unwanted ones down with a crash. Jasper felt each one drop. His uncle finally found the one he’d been looking for and pointed it at him. “This. This is a socket wrench. Got it?”

Jasper nodded, too terrified to speak.

The top half of his uncle slid back under the tractor with the wrench. He had to tell him, he realized. He couldn’t just sit there all day, stalling. Each second that ticked by was one more lick he’d have to take.

“Uncle Leo? Sir?”

“What is it, Jasper?” Uncle Leo started cranking on something. The whole tractor rocked back and forth.

Jasper swallowed hard. “I have . . . a letter here from my teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” The tractor stopped shaking. “What’s it say?”

“It says I caused . . . a disruption in school today.”

There was a long silence. His uncle still had the wrench in his hand, but he was staying under the tractor for the time being.

“I—I punched somebody.” Jasper’s voice had shrunk to a whisper.

“Speak up, boy!” his uncle growled.

Wayne had said to be a man. Jasper straightened his back and said loud and clear, “I punched somebody. On the playground.”

Uncle Leo said nothing.

After a few agonizing seconds, Jasper decided to keep talking. “It was a bad thing to do. I realize that now, sir.”

Still nothing.

Jasper couldn’t help it. The tears just came. “I’m awful sorry about it. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

After a full minute of listening to Jasper sniffling, Uncle Leo started working the wrench again. The tractor seemed to lurch even more than before.

Jasper was at a loss. He just sat there and tried to pull himself together, jumping every time his uncle shifted his feet, waiting for the man to come barreling out from under the tractor and take off his belt. But he just kept on working.

After what might’ve been an hour, Uncle Leo finally pulled himself out from under the tractor. He seemed surprised to see Jasper cowering there at his feet. “You still here?”

Jasper was too petrified to move.

His uncle stood up and brushed himself off. He put his tools away, all the while ignoring his nephew, still sitting there like a cornered mouse. After everything had been cleaned up, his uncle turned off his lamp and left the shed.

Jasper sat there in the dark for several minutes, debating what to do. The note was still hanging from his hand. He realized his fingers were stiff from holding it.
Am I supposed to stay here?
he wondered.
Am I still welcome in the house?

Eventually, he stood up and felt his way out of the dark shed. The sun was setting over the fields, and the lights burned in the cabin windows. The smell of the pork roast Aunt Velma was cooking for supper wafted across the yard.

He crept up onto the porch and peered in through a window at the kitchen table. There were four chairs set around the worn wood tabletop. Ears of corn, bread, beans, and mashed potatoes spilled over plates. He could smell it all through the window, and his stomach tightened when he saw only three places had been set.

Uncle Leo was cleaning the motor oil off his hands at the kitchen washtub. Aunt Velma pulled a bubbling brown chunk of meat out of the woodstove. They were talking to each other too quietly for Jasper to hear. His uncle shook his head.

They were going to make him leave. He was sure of it. Jasper backed away from the window, stumbling off the edge of the porch. They never wanted him there in the first place, and now he’d embarrassed them and brought shame on their family. He really was rotten inside. No one wanted him anymore—not his dad, not his mother, no one.

The golden sky reeled overhead as he staggered away from the cabin, sobbing harder than he could ever remember crying. There was nowhere else to go. The grass seemed to fall away from his feet as he stumbled past the barn. He didn’t want to look where he was going. He didn’t care if he crashed into the corncrib. He didn’t care if he fell in the well. In fact, he’d rather he did.

“Jasper?” It was Wayne calling his name somewhere behind him.

He didn’t want to see Wayne. His eyes stayed shut as he plowed away from the voice. He couldn’t stop the stream of tears and snot and spit running down his face. He couldn’t keep from wailing. His feet stumbled over a tree root, and he crumpled down into a ball.
No one.

“Hey.” Wayne shook his shoulder. “Hey, kid. It’s alright. Shake it off. You’ll live.”

Wayne’s warm hand made everything worse. He jerked away from it.

“Jeez. He didn’t use the crop, did he?” Wayne pulled his hand away. “He only used that on me once, but that was for giving Millie too much horse tranquilizer. It about killed her.”

Jasper shook his head and sobbed. “Go away.”

“I’m supposed to come get you for dinner.”

This made Jasper go quiet. He wiped his face with his shirt. “What?”

“Ain’t you hungry?”

“But there’s no place for me. They don’t want me.”

“Don’t be stupid. Ma wasn’t sure you was coming. Pop said you might just spend the night in the tractor shed.”

The tears wouldn’t stop. “That’s where he wants me then.”

“No, he don’t. It’d be better if you cleaned yourself up and act like you took it well. That’s what I do. I pretend like it’s all okay with me, and pretty soon it is. You know?” Wayne tousled his hair. “You can’t let a little whupping break your back.”

“But he didn’t whup me,” Jasper sniffed. “He didn’t even say anything.”

“You told him?”

“Yeah. I told him everything, and he didn’t do anything. He didn’t even . . .”—Jasper had to fight back a sob—“. . . look at me.”

“Shit.” Wayne sat back in the grass next to him and nodded. “No wonder . . . Maybe they just want to let your own dad handle it. Maybe Pop feels out of place doin’ it himself.”

“He hates me.”

“He don’t hate you, dummy. He’s the one that told me to go check on you.”

“Really?” Jasper wiped a long string of snot onto his arm.

“Yeah. Now let’s get you cleaned up. C’mon.”

Jasper sat silently all through dinner, waiting for his aunt or uncle to say something about a punishment. He had handed the note to Aunt Velma when he’d come in the door. She’d taken one look at his swollen face and put the note in a drawer. Jasper couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. He just kept his head down while his aunt and uncle talked about the weather and the coming harvest over the food.

After dinner, they all listened to the radio. In between the
Lone Ranger
and
The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet
, the governor came on the air to announce stiffer punishments for illicit drug use and trafficking under something called the Boggs Act, but all Jasper could hear was the thundering silence of his uncle.

At bedtime, Aunt Velma poked her head behind the curtain to say good night to Wayne. Jasper’s heart leapt when she also said good night to him. He had to steel himself from whimpering,
Do you still like me at all? Do you wish I was gone?

As she was closing the curtain, he managed to say, “I’m sorry, Aunt Velma.”

She stopped and looked at him with watery blue eyes. “I know.”

When the lights were off and the house was silent except for the crackle of the fire in the woodstove, Wayne sat up and whispered, “Hey, Jas?”

“What?”

“What did Cecil say that made you so mad?”

Jasper didn’t know how to answer. He still didn’t know what
hussy
meant, but he knew he’d be betraying his mother if he said it again.

After a long silence, he whispered, “Nothing.”

CHAPTER 17

Did they ever hit you?

Jasper’s father didn’t come back that Saturday morning.

After lunch, Jasper stole away into the barn to read more from his mother’s book under the guise of feeding the goats. Just as he pulled the diary from its new hiding spot, his uncle’s voice came booming from the doorway.

“Hey, Jasper?”

“Uh. Yes, sir?” Jasper nearly dropped the book. He half turned, hiding it against his oversized pant leg.

“Whatdya say you come with me and Wayne down to the creamery? Might be an ice cream in it for you.” From the doorway, his uncle didn’t seem to notice the thin volume pressed to his flank.

“Sure! Okay.” Jasper forced a bright smile. In truth, he was thrilled his uncle was still speaking to him.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” His uncle waved him over.

There was no chance to tuck the book back where it belonged. His uncle watched Jasper drag his feet to the door as the boy’s mind searched for a place to stash it. Uncle Leo finally turned to grab one of the full milk canisters next to the door, and Jasper stuffed the book into the pocket of Wayne’s hand-me-down overalls, praying the legs were wide enough on his small frame to hide it.

“Get the lead out, boy!” Uncle Leo barked over his shoulder. “I need you to lower the hitch for me.”

“Yes, sir!” Jasper scurried past him with the book swinging from his hip. His uncle didn’t seem to notice.

After loading twelve milk canisters into the back of his uncle’s truck, the three of them piled in and headed the four miles down Route 25 to the Burtchville creamery. Jasper and Wayne rode in the open bed the whole way. The wind whipped past them at fifty miles an hour, and every bump in the road was a carnival ride as they both fought to hold on. By the time they arrived in Burtchville, Jasper was laughing.

The creamery was just a giant warehouse with a bunch of refrigerated holding tanks and a few storage sheds in the back. Uncle Leo pulled his truck up to the receiving dock, and Wayne and Jasper hopped out.

“Don’t wander too far, you two. Meet me back here in twenty minutes.” His uncle walked over to the booth and talked to a short, hairy man about his delivery.

“C’mon! Let’s go see what new baseball cards they got over at Calbry’s.” Wayne grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the warehouse and down the street.

The sidewalks were crowded with farmers and their families out collecting the weekly supplies. Just outside the doors to Calbry’s General Store, two women with long black hair and tan skin were sitting behind a card table covered in beaded necklaces. A hand-painted sign that read “50 Cents” hung from the edge of the table next to another sign that read “Will Work for Food.”

Jasper stopped on the sidewalk to read the signs. The older woman smiled at him and beckoned him toward the necklaces on the table. Next to the jewelry lay a small photograph of a teenage girl with long black hair. A small hand-painted sign below it read: “Do You Know Who Killed Me?”

Jasper read the words again and studied the girl’s face. The feeling that he’d seen her before crept into his head. Her eyes. They’d been sad. She’d been standing in the doorway.

“You know her.”

“Huh?” Jasper blinked up into the weathered face of the older woman. Her lips were set in a frown.

“You knew Ayasha.”

Jasper took a step back, shaking his head.

“No necklaces today, thanks!” Wayne told her with a broad smile and pushed his cousin through the door.

“Wait. Who are they?” Jasper asked.

“Ladies from the Indian reservation. Don’t mind them. They just want your money. They’re always sellin’ stuff.”

“But it said a girl was killed.”

“I don’t know anything about it. Do you? C’mon. Pop will be cashin’ out any minute.”

Jasper let his cousin drag him by the arm into the store but looked back over his shoulder at the two women.

Do you know who killed me?

The rest of the afternoon was spent collecting bars of soap, thread, needles, and a new gasket for the tractor from the various shops in town. That and the biggest ice cream cones Jasper had ever laid eyes on. He was still licking the chocolate from his lips when they pulled back down Harris Road around dusk.

A familiar truck was parked at the end of the drive as Uncle Leo’s headlights drew nearer. The shadow of a man was hunched over the steering wheel. It was his father.

Uncle Leo cut the engine and climbed out behind Wendell’s truck. Wayne cranked open the passenger door and glanced back at Jasper still glued to his seat next to the gearshift. “Don’t worry so much, kid. It’ll be fine.”

Outside, Uncle Leo was talking at the driver’s side window to his father. Jasper’s guts knotted up. He didn’t want to get out of the car. It wasn’t just the whupping he was about to receive; it was the fact that his father hadn’t come to see him the week before. It was some of the things the detective had asked his uncle. It was the idea that his mother had hidden the car deep in the woods where she’d hoped no one would find it.

“Come on, Buck Rogers.” Wayne pulled him down out of the truck. “Time to go to the moon.”

Jasper’s feet hit the ground like they were made of lead. His father was still sitting behind the wheel of his borrowed truck. The barn loomed darkly in the other direction, and Jasper considered making a run for it. Wayne tugged on his arm, but his feet wouldn’t move.

Uncle Leo came around the hood. “Wayne?”

“Yeah, Pop?”

“Time to head inside, Son.” Uncle Leo’s eyes fell on his nephew for a few moments before he turned to the house.

Wayne patted Jasper on the shoulder and then followed his dad into the cabin.

Jasper’s legs were rubber as they made their way around the bumper. Wendell’s head was resting on the steering wheel as he approached the driver’s side door. It was like looking at a total stranger. His father’s gray hair was worn thin at the top, and he looked smaller than Jasper remembered.

He heard himself say, “Hi, Dad.”

His father lifted his head from the steering wheel and looked at him with pale eyes. They were heavy and tinged red. “How’ve you been, Jasper?”

“Okay.” He studied his feet, swallowing all his questions about his mother.
Children should be seen and not heard.

“Your uncle tells me you’ve had a little trouble at school. Is that right?”

Jasper kept his eyes on his shoes. “Yes, sir. I was fighting in the school yard.”

“How big was the boy?”

“Huh?” Jasper looked up with a scowl.

“Was he smaller than you?”

“No, sir. He was bigger. Cecil’s in sixth grade.”

“Why’d you hit ’im?”

“He said some things.” Jasper debated confessing the horrible things Cecil had said.
Your mama’s a hussy.
He couldn’t say it. “He just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

His father nodded. “Can’t blame you too much then, but you did break the rules. Didn’t you?”

Jasper forced a nod.

“If I don’t whup ya, your uncle’s gonna feel like he has to do it. He’s already doin’ too much.” His father sighed and hauled himself out of the truck.

“But . . .”

“No buts, boy. Come on. Let’s just get it over with.” His father grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the barn. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’ll be worse if Leo does it.”

The tremor in his father’s hand vibrated up Jasper’s arm. The old man’s foot hit uneven ground, and he staggered a bit off balance.
He’s drunk,
Jasper realized. It took his father a solid minute to get the kerosene lamp lit in the barn. By the time the light went on, Jasper was furious and convinced he could take the wobbly old man in a fight.

“This isn’t fair! That boy was picking on me. You always told me you got to stand up to bullies.” That was true. When the bigger boys had stolen his milk money, his dad had acted like it was Jasper’s fault. He’d even showed him how to make a fist.

“Bein’ a man ain’t easy, Jasper.” His father was struggling with shaking fingers to take off his belt. “Even when you do the right thing, sometimes you gotta pay.”

“But it’s not fair!” None of it was.

“Who told you life was going to be fair? Huh?” his father growled. “What do you know about fair? You got a roof over your head and food on your plate and people lookin’ after you. You think everybody’s got that?
You think I had that?
You don’t know how good you got it! You think you’re the only one’s ever lost somethin’?”

Jasper felt himself shrinking. “No.”

“Now you broke the rules. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that. The law’s the law.”

“The law?” Jasper thought of the detective and felt his anger return. “You know what the law said last week? Huh? A police officer came here Monday. He said they’d found her car buried in the woods. He said Mom’s missing! They think there might’ve been a crime! He said it might be
your
fault!”

“What?” Wendell lowered the belt and grabbed Jasper’s arm in his fist. “Who said that?
Who?
”

There was a fiery red alarm flashing in his father’s eyes, but Jasper could hardly see it through the tears streaming down his face. The man hadn’t come to see him in two weeks. “A detective from Detroit. He wanted to know if you ever smacked her around.”

“If I ever
what
?” his father roared.

“Smacked her around!” Jasper shouted back. Suddenly, the detective’s accusations didn’t seem so outrageous. All their screaming fights. Her teary eyes the morning she’d left Jasper alone on the farm. He wrenched his arm free and gave his father a running shove. “Did you? Did you hit her? Why didn’t you tell me about the car, huh?”

The old man sputtered, “Why you little—”

Jasper shoved his staggering father again and screamed,
“Where is she, goddammit? What did you do with her?”

Wendell grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him to the ground. The man’s hand crashed into Jasper’s face with a blinding white pop.