Three years after Ben and Melody last saw each other…
A forlorn, eight-year old Ben sat in his room, putting pencil to paper as he spawned an artistic creation.
“Ears…eyes…mouth…nose…”
Ben’s paws were ever so careful; his heart and soul being poured into this masterpiece. He wanted to make sure it looked perfect. It was a lovely, mild day outside, but Ben was too preoccupied to think about getting any fresh air or sun. Besides, it wasn’t like the outdoors would disappear; he could go out and enjoy it any day.
“Arms…body…legs…”
A knock at his door made him jump. He quickly lifted the loose plank beside him and deposited the drawing and pencil into the floor as if they were confidential nuclear codes. He let the plank drop back into place before Peter and Rachel burst through the door.
“Why’d you knock if you're just gonna run in without asking?” The oldest sibling protested.
Peter ignored his question and grabbed his brother’s arm, as though about to pull him somewhere. “Hey Ben! Let’s play a trick on dad!” His tail fluttered with excitement.
“Uh, why? I-I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is!” Peter threw his hands in the air. “It’ll be funny!”
Ben sighed. “What’s the joke?”
“I want to put that whoopie cushion next to the door so when he steps on it, it farts!”
Rachel giggled at the mere mention of the word. “It’s gonna be funny!” She squealed.
Even sullen Ben couldn’t resist cracking a smile. “I have a better place to put it. Give me it.”
For the few minutes Ben played with his siblings, there was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there all week. He took the fart device with his mouth and scurried to the spot he had in mind. Peter and Rachel followed him into the family/TV room, and they snickered as the older squirrel tucked the loaded pillow under their dad’s sofa cushion.
“Whatcha’ doing over there?” Their mother asked as she methodically sliced narrow strips of flat bread.
“It’s a secret!” Peter put a paw over his mouth.
“Yeah! We’re gonna twick daddy!” Rachel’s tail swished excitedly.
“A secret? I won’t tell ‘im a thing then.” She replied, not taking her focus off her cutting. “Excited for the picnic later? I know Uncle Xavier, Aunt Claudia, and Aunt Janet are really lookin’ forward to seein’ y’all again. How long’s it been…a year?”
Evelyn stopped cutting for a moment to rack her memory banks.
“They ought to bring their instruments again,” Ben remarked, setting the sofa cushion on top of the inflatable joke. “That was really fun when they played that song they wrote.”
“Aw yes,” Evelyn nodded, resuming her cutting. “I remember that; it was lovely. Claudia really knows how to make that cello sing…”
Peter interrupted them. “Dad’s coming!” He pointed out the window and saw Ronald walking toward the house along the familiar dirt path lined with tall coniferous trees. He bid hello to passersby hiking the opposite way and whistled as he approached his house.
“Get the door for your father, please.” Ben’s mother instructed him as she moved onto rinsing the lettuce. Meanwhile, Peter cleverly placed one of his dad’s books on the sofa cushion beside the landmined one. After all, if Ronald was planning to read anything later, he would be forced to sit and activate the prank device. It was fool-proof in the child’s mind, and Rachel’s giggles affirmed his ingenuity.
Ben didn’t want to open the door, as there was something out there he didn’t want to see. It was the reason he was so miserable every day this past week, but since his mother insisted on it, he did as she said.
“Ben!” His dad picked him up briefly to hug him, and the young squirrel saw it once again.
The property that used to belong to Carla’s family.
She and her family moved away last week due to a business opportunity her father didn’t want to turn down. Carla told Ben the week before that she was leaving, and despite her assurance she would write and call him often, she couldn’t stop him from breaking down into tears.
“B-but…you’re my best friend!” He squeezed her with a desperate hug. “Don’t go!”
Carla couldn’t say anything to console him, and the moment Ben watched their van carry her and her family into the great beyond was the moment his heart shattered. Today, he wasn’t crying so much, but his friend’s absence lingered in his soul like a loathsome weight.
At the very least, he still had family, and the picnic should cheer him up.
Ronald greeted his other kids similarly and kissed his wife on the cheek.
“How was work hon’?” She returned the kiss.
“Eh, mostly uneventful, but I’d have it no other way. Most exciting part was when some mining company called and asked if they could excavate right under Blueberry Grove.”
Evelyn shot him a surprised look and shook her head. “They’re outta their ever-lovin’ minds to even think of defacin’ such a pristine place! For Pete’s sake, that’s where we’re havin’ our picnic!”
“That’s what I thought too, but I just plainly informed them about the law here. You can’t mine anywhere unless you jump through a hundred hoops with the authorities and have a very good reason for it. Even if I wanted to approve it, my boss would have the final say.”
All this talk about their dad’s work as a forest ranger was white noise to the kids. Peter couldn’t hold his impatience any longer and tugged at his dad’s tail.
“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Peter pleaded, putting his paws over his mouth to stifle his snicker.
Ronald turned and looked down at him. “Uh, eventually…why?”
“Because I have a surprise! I think you should sit right there.” He pointed to the cushion hiding the prank underneath. Rachel sat on the cushion beside it, unable to hide her gleeful grin.
“Yeah!” She blurted out. “It’s a BIG FART!”
“Rachel!” Peter facepalmed. “It was a secret!”
Ronald pretended he didn’t hear her. “A surprise? I’d love to see it!”
The three children watched as their father sat in his usual spot, and when he activated the fart pillow, they burst into laughter.
“Ew! Yucky!” Rachel squealed.
“Ah man, you three got me!” Ronald also laughed, joining in their joviality. While jokes about bodily functions weren’t his cup of tea, he couldn’t get enough of seeing his kids laugh and having fun, even if it was at the expense of his own dignity.
Most of all, he was happy to see Ben smiling.
“Alright, well I’ll have to get you all next time!” Ronald made a mock-evil laugh. “But for now, I’m going to help get things ready for the picnic. I hope you’re all excited for it!”
“Ooh!” Rachel interjected. “Can I show gramma and grampa my doll?”
“Your wolf plushie? Of course you can; I’m sure they’ll love it.”
“Ooh, and can I show you something I made?!" She tugged excitedly on his paw.
“You did? I’d be delighted to see it!”
Ronald followed his daughter to her room and Peter tagged along, remembering he also had something he wanted to show him.
Ben stayed behind, and as his mother realized they were left by themselves, she seized an opportunity.
“Ben, want to help squeeze the juice out of these lemons? I’m makin’ your favorite; fresh strawberry lemonade.”
“Okay.” He obliged and scampered into the kitchen. His mother’s homemade lemonade was the perfect libation, in his opinion, to slake one’s thirst. When mixed with strawberries and blocks of ice on a hot day, it was irresistible. He also liked helping his mom prepare food and drinks, even when his tasks were simple.
As Ben drained juice into the pitcher lemon by lemon, his mother asked him another question.
“How’re you feelin’ lately?”
“Fine.” He replied casually.
“So…you’re not sad anymore about Carla goin’ away?”
“I’m not. I’m fine now.” He answered shortly, like he wasn’t comfortable talking about it. Evelyn didn’t believe him for one second.
“You don’t sound fine-”
“I said I’m fine!” He protested sharply, almost making his mother drop the knife she was using to slice the cucumbers into the salad. She stopped.
“Alright Ben, I’ll stop askin’.” She kept her voice cool and resumed her slicing. She stopped again when she heard him sniffle five seconds later.
“I’m sorry I yelled…”
“Oh hun, of course I forgive you. Here,” she promptly set her knife down and hugged her son.
“I-I’m so…stupid,” he started to cry, “I’m so bad…”
“Ben, stop that.” His mother pulled away a little and looked straight into his glassy eyes. “You know that ain’t true.”
“But it is…”
This wasn’t the first time Evelyn and Ben had this argument and the mother felt like she was running out of things to say. She sighed and said a silent prayer for encouragement and longsuffering.
“Why do you think that? Did your father or me ever say you were stupid and bad?”
Ben shook his head.
“Then who did? You’re not gettin’ these thoughts from your family, so someone somewhere’s been feedin’ you lies.”
Ben shrugged.
“And you know your family loves ya, Ben, and you know God does too, don’t ya?”
He nodded, but nothing broke the frown on his little face. “I feel like I’m just a really bad person. I bet Carla really moved because she didn’t like me anymore…”
Meanwhile, Rachel showed her father and brother the pretty purple bellflower she found in their backyard earlier, and after they admired it, Peter showed them a drawing he made of their family.
“Oh wow, you drew all of us!” Ronald remarked at the crudely-drawn yet expressive squirrel family. “This is very nice.”
The scene portrayed them playing in their backyard. Ronald was hiding something in the ground, and Peter was looking for it. At the same time, Evelyn was watering a garden plant, and Rachel was hiding amongst the flowers.
And last was Ben. He was up in one of the pine trees by himself.
Looking sad.
“Aw, how come Ben’s not playing with us?” Ronald asked.
“Because he’s always sad.”
“How about this…can you draw me a picture of all three of you playing together and being happy?”
“But he’s never happy.” Peter added, like this was a scientifically-proven fact. “Even when we do play with him!”
That hurt Ronald to hear, but he couldn’t blame him for that assessment. Even before Carla moved away, Ben wasn’t the most bombastic and chipper kid on the block. His friend’s departure only amplified his somber mood. Ronald combed his brain to figure out what hurt Ben so much to make him the tragic soul he was today, but no memory reared its ugly head.
Meanwhile, his wife rapped lightly on the door to get his attention.
“Ron, hun, can we talk in private?” She addressed him calmly, indicating this wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Yeah, coming.”
Ronald left his son and daughter to play in Peter’s room as he joined Evelyn in their own. She quietly closed and locked the door after both were in, then she started to cry softly.
“It’s Ben…I’m runnin’ out of ideas on how to help him…” She rubbed some moisture from her eyes.
“What happened?” Her husband asked.
“Well…first he raised his voice at me ‘cause he didn’t want to talk about this whole thing with Carla, and then…he apologized and started to beat himself up like usual. He called himself ‘bad’ and ‘stupid,’ and then he said Carla moved away because she didn’t like ‘im anymore. I tried to talk sense into him, but he kept flagellatin’ himself like a criminal. I just…How’d he get this way? What’d we do wrong?”
Ronald held his wife close. “We’ve done nothing wrong; we’ve been doing our best to raise our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Every day and every week, we teach them and remind them about God’s perfect grace…we just can’t let ourselves give up on him.”
“I know…but it breaks my heart to hear the son I gave birth to tear himself to pieces over nothin’. Did we do somethin’ to make Ben hate himself so much? I’m just…I don’t know anymore.”
Ronald said nothing for a little while as he tried to come up with ideas. “How about…I’ll have a one-on-one with him today and see if he’ll open up to me. He and I will hike to the picnic; that’ll give me time, maybe, to pry out whatever monster’s in his brain. We just need to be patient; sometimes the loving advice of a parent or the correction from the word of God, doesn’t affect someone right away.”
“Sounds like a plan; I pray you’ll have the right words to say. I sure couldn’t find ‘em.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself; we’re a team. If either one of us can get Ben to see the joy he’s meant to have in God, we all win.”
He opened the door to leave the room when he caught Peter scurrying away. He quickly caught him by the tail and stopped him in his tracks.
“What’d we tell you about doing that?” Ronald frowned. “That conversation was none of your business.”
“I was just curious.” Peter defended himself weakly. “Sorry.”
“Next time we catch you, you’re grounded. If we wanted you in the conversation, we would’ve asked you to come in with us, okay?”
“Okay. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Meanwhile, Ben watched the mailman through the kitchen window attempt to cram their mail into their mailbox. The larger white fox was having some trouble.
“Go in you stupid stack of-”
He noticed the young squirrel observing him and stopped short of cursing his mail.
“Oh, hi Ben!” The canine smiled just widely enough to show most of his teeth and look unintentionally threatening. “Didn’t see you there; how’s your day?”
“It’s good, Mister Larson.” He answered with as much charisma as dried toast. “How’s your day?”
“Good, good, can’t complain.” He answered before resuming his fight with the Avery’s mailbox.
“I’ll take it in.” Ben offered and walked outside to accept the mail.
“Careful, it’s heavy. You got a lot here.” The fox grabbed the clump of mail with his mouth and attempted to drop it into Ben’s waiting paws. He caught one page of coupons, and everything else fell onto the wooden porch.
“Uh, sorry…” Mr. Larson muttered.
“It’s okay, I’ll take the rest of it in. Thank you.” Ben knew the fox couldn’t afford to waste his time helping him, as he had more mail to deliver. Mr. Larson bid him good day, and Ben sat there and looked through today’s collection. There were several pages of coupons from local stores, as well as businesses from nearby Evergreen. Ben sighed until he noticed a few pieces of mail that were actually letters.
“This is from...Marie…Tyndale..,to dad.” Ben struggled to read the name. “And this one’s from…Dylan…Tyndale…also to dad? I don’t know these people.”
The names weren’t relevant to him; the fact that he saw nothing from Carla stomped his fragile little heart into the ground.
“She doesn’t like me anymore…” He moaned and sniffled.
With heavy steps, he brought all the pieces of mail into the house, including the junk. His parents helped him after they looked out the door and saw the untidy pile.
“Mr. Larson must be on duty again; did you say hi to him?” Ronald asked his son, but the distracted child didn’t process the question.
“Carla hates me.”
It was all Ronald could do from exhaling a concerned yet impatient sigh. “Ben, come on…”
“She didn’t send me anything…nothing in there’s for me…”
“Ben, buddy,” his dad gently pulled him aside, still leaving some mail on the porch, “she moved only a week ago and lives far away now. With all the craziness involved with moving, maybe she hasn’t thought to write a letter yet.”
“I don’t know…” Ben contemplated, unable to avoid being pessimistic. His gaze remained fixated on the ground, as though he wasn’t worthy to look any higher.
“When I first moved to college when I was eighteen, I had to deal with not only moving, but finding my classes and getting familiar with the campus. I didn’t think to write my mom or dad until a month later. They knew I didn’t hate them; they understood I had to figure out how to get used to my new life first. Just give Carla some time, okay? She’s been your friend for four years; she’s not just going to throw away your friendship like that. She still likes you.”
Ronald observed his son’s expression and body language for any sign that his little speech worked. The younger squirrel looked up at his father and stood up a little straighter, as though the burdensome load he carried became lighter.
“I guess,” Ben conceded; a ghost of a smile appeared on his face, “Maybe she still likes me; I’m just being a baby.”
“You’re not, and I wish you’d stop slapping yourself down like that. You care about your friend and want to hear from her again; that’s not being a baby. I would say that perhaps you just need to have a little patience, that’s all.” Ronald patted his son on the shoulder.
Father and son brought in the rest of the mail, of which three-quarters of it wound up in the trash can or shredder. They were coupons for items no one in the house used, charities soliciting “Current Resident” for money, and political flyers from the candidates running for mayor of their small town of about a thousand residents. Nearby Evergreen was a larger municipality of about twenty-thousand, whereas the Avery’s nondescript town, Pine Trails, barely dotted the map.
Exactly as it sounded, Pine Trails was a forest town with dirt trails that wended their way through the trees. There were no major retailers here; only small businesses like grocers and cafe owners. Many of the residents knew each other and got along, and anyone needing anything beyond the basic commodity more than likely went to Evergreen to buy it. Ronald and Evelyn loved it here; from its strong sense of community, to its small but Christ-centered church, to the verdant scenery and plenteous streams, to its towering conifers, the two squirrels saw it fit to start their family here.
Blueberry Grove, the site of the family picnic the squirrels and wolves were intent on enjoying later that day, was a large park situated to the east of Pine Trails. It was common for families to spend their time there together and relax when the weather was placid. One section had playground equipment, another had small trails conducive to leisurely walks or morning jogs, and another had picnic tables designed for bigger gatherings and parties. The park got its name from the various blueberry plants that speckled the scenery, but that wasn’t the park’s most impressive feature.
The river that coursed its way southward along the east side into Evergreen was easily the site’s biggest spectacle. The river’s bottom was layered with countless red, blue, and green stones that made the river appear as a work of art. Of course, the time to enjoy the view most was when the sun was at its zenith, when its light struck the stones’ pseudo-lustrous surfaces and made the water glisten. This created a brilliant, pulchritudinous display seen almost nowhere else in the world.
It was a no-brainer for the Averys to enjoy the day there.
“So what time will your folks be there?” Evelyn inquired Ronald.
“Three, or so they said.”
“Knowin’ them, it’ll be more like two forty-five.”
“Heh, you can thank Claudia for that. She’s always been one to insist everyone arrive early for everything. Ever since that time Xavier got stuck in traffic and nearly arrived late for one of their performances, she’s been a stickler for earliness.”
“Well, hopefully I can get this ice cream done by then.” She set a paw over her new ice cream maker. “Last one jammed up on me and broke; cheap ol’ thing.”
“I can stay and help with anything you need.” Her husband offered.
She adamantly shook her head. “You should take Ben out, like you said.”
The child’s ears perked up. “Take me where?"
“Ooh, ooh, Can I come?” Peter chimed in before their dad could reply.
“I was thinking of taking you on a little hike to Blueberry Grove; the weather’s nice, and I think it’ll do you a lot of good.”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“But that’s far.”
“It’s only a mile; that’s not too bad. Besides, I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Uh…okay.” Ben acquiesced, not feeling like he should be permitted to enjoy anything.
“I still wanna come.” Peter tugged at his dad’s paw. “Can I? Please, dad?”
Ronald hesitated; he really wanted to talk to his older son alone, but was there truly any harm in letting his younger son tag along?
“I’ll be good; I pinky promise with a cherry on top.” The pinky-less Peter added, seeing his dad mull it over.
“I don’t see why he can’t go.” His mother remarked.
“Well…alright.” Ronald relented. “But promise me you’re not going to get tired and ask me to carry you.”
“I super-DUPER promise!” He vowed enthusiastically.
“Good! That’s the kind of promise I can count on.” Ronald chuckled and patted his little head. “I’ll just grab some of my things and we’ll be out.”
“And Rachel and I will join ya when everything’s done. She’s back in her room nappin’ by the way.”
“Sounds good.” He went to his room to collect his cell phone, house key, and wallet. He turned on his phone screen to see a long chain of group texts involving him and his four siblings. He cocked an eyebrow as he flicked upwards though the litany of exchanges, most of which belonged to Xavier, who was the root of this lengthy conversation.
“Guys! I had that nightmare again about Kiam and that creepy goddess thing. It started moving and then these roots came out of the ground and trapped me and then..."
Ronald remembered that whole ordeal; it was some months after he left for his first year at Pratley. His wolf siblings were kidnapped by an evil, pagan sorcerer bear who did everything he could to coerce them into being his own children ("kinder" was the word Kiam used, according to the triplets) in order to fulfill some sick, base desire. He trapped them in a forest they couldn't escape, and tried to get them to appease his false goddess, mutter des bodens, or, "mother of the soil/earth." It was a harrowing test of their faith and a testament to how well their parents raised them in the ways of the Lord. It was a long time ago, but nightmares about it haunted them off-and-on to this day.
Ronald would have to read the rest later; he didn’t want to keep his sons waiting. He simply texted back, “Catch up later. Tell me more at picnic thx.”
Xavier texted back “c u there” within two seconds, and Ronald stowed the device into his little bag, along with his key and wallet. The car key would be left for his wife so she and Rachel could arrive at the picnic later (and have an easier time transporting all that food and drink). He also set down his letters from Marie and Dylan, intending to read them after getting home later. In all likelihood they were probably just checking up on him and updating him on their lives. Despite what he put them through sixteen years ago, he was grateful they were still good friends with each other.
Ronald found his daughter curled up in her little bed and cradling her little mouse and wolf plushies like they were little babies (though the wolf was as big as her).
“I’m going out, so behave for mommy, okay?” He whispered and kissed her on the forehead. Her little ear twitched and she shifted slightly, squeezing her plushies tighter.
Ronald finally bid his wife goodbye and best of luck with the new ice cream maker.
“Just try not to stress it; you’ll be fine, and the ice cream will be delicious.” He assured her.
“Me not stress about cookin’? What planet're you from?” She quipped and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.
“The planet of caring husbands, of course.”
Meanwhile, Ben and Peter were roughhousing on the sofa and their father raised his voice to get their attention.
“Guess I’ll leave without you!”
“No!” The boys immediately stopped and joined their dad, Peter almost tripping over his brother’s tail. “We’re ready!”
“Very good.” Ronald opened the door.
“Have fun!” Evelyn waved them goodbye and threw a subtle smile in Ben’s direction. She truly believed this short trek through nature would help him; it was already an improvement that he wasn’t looking at the floor right now. “See ya later!”
The three males returned her goodbye and embarked on their hike to Blueberry Grove. When they reached the end of their padded dirt walkway, Ronald led them to the right, down the serpentine trail that twisted gracefully through tapering trees. He let out a contented exhale.
“We couldn’t have picked a better day for the picnic.” He remarked. “Looking forward to seeing your grandparents, uncle, and aunts again?”
“Yeah.” Ben muttered, turning his head back to look at Carla’s old house again, as though expecting to see her there.
“Is it the big park again?” Peter threw in his non-sequitur.
“Yep, and there’s all sorts of things there you can play on; slides, swings, carousels, sand boxes; you name it!”
“Oh! I’ll ask uncle Xavier if he’ll push me on the swing again. He pushed me reeeeeally high last time!” He flung his little arms into the air.
“That was fun.” Ben recalled; a wistful smile appearing on his face for all of one second. “But Carla was there too…”
Ronald took up his sword to combat his son’s negativity. “You’ll have fun today with your family even though Carla won’t be here. And, believe it or not, I’m a little sad about it too. I was friends with her parents before she was even born, but I also understand people want to move on to other things sometimes. Just because they moved, it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy things anymore, right?”
Ben shrugged. “I guess…but what if Carla really wanted to get away from me? What if she’s secretly happy she doesn’t have to see me again?”
It wasn’t visible to Ronald, but he was certain there was a monster inside his son’s head making him say these things. He wanted to dig in there with his hands, yank it out, and stomp it to death. Jack Tyndale let a monster take abode in his brain for too long, and it destroyed him. If Ben was being tormented too, Ronald wanted to do everything he could to blast it to smithereens. He stopped walking and planted a firm hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Look at me, Ben.” He said sternly, his son doing what he said. Benjamin saw the love and concern in his father’s eyes and felt convicted.
“Be honest with me…Do you hate yourself?”
There it was, point-blank. Ben’s eyes coyly shifted away as he spent several seconds fumbling for the answer he thought his dad wanted to hear.
“N-no…I’m sorry…” Ben looked down at his feet, but Ronald tilted his chin back up to face him again.
“Then why would you think Carla would be happy about not seeing you again? You have no reason to think that; she always loved playing with you and having you over, and she was very sad when she realized she wasn’t going to see you anymore. She cared about you. A lot. Your mother and I also care about you and love you more than you know. We brought you into this world, and hearing all these put-downs from you hurts. Stop acting like no one loves you.”
Most of what his father told him went into his brain, though Ben was distracted by an image seared into his mind for the last three years. He couldn’t remember where it came from anymore, but it was that of a gray squirrel with wild, bulging eyes and gnashing teeth.
“You STUPID little shit!” It pelted at him over and over…
Ronald hugged his son, snapping him out of his brief daze, and cradled his little head against his shoulder. Other eight-year old boys would’ve been humiliated to let their father do that to them in the open like this, but Ben welcomed the diversion from the discordant melody.
“Do you believe we love you?”
“Yeah…”
“Do you believe Carla still likes you?”
“Yeah…”
“And do you believe God loves you?”
Ben echoed the same reply, though was slightly more hesitant with it. The little rodent didn’t feel as confident saying that about the Creator of the universe as he could with his own flesh and blood. This didn’t escape Ronald’s notice.
“Come on, let’s take a little detour. We have time.”
A little further down the dirt road, Ronald hooked a left, down a narrower dirt road. Not as many trees lined its shape, so it was better lit from the sun.
“Where’re we going?” Peter asked.
“We’re going to church.” His dad answered.
“But it’s Saturday.” Ben stated, as though his father suddenly lost the ability to read a calendar.
“You’re right,” Ronald affirmed, continuing his trajectory. “And we can thank God He doesn’t listen to our prayers only on Sundays.”
“But I wanna go to the park!” Peter griped.
“Hold your horses,” Ronald chuckled, “we won’t be very long. I just want to talk to the pastor for a little bit. We’ll head straight to the park right after; I promise.”
The little white building was only an eighth-mile down the side path. Like Pine Trails itself, it was rather small, but held a close union of believers. The name of the church wasn’t creative either. “Pine Trails Bible Church” was plastered across the sign to the right of the entrance, with the text of First Corinthians 15:1-4 printed under it, and while some would be turned off by the lack of ingenuity, Ronald and Evelyn saw authenticity in it. No catchy names or slogans distracted from the message the church wanted to convey, that it simply believed and taught the Bible as it was written, and that the gospel was the primary subject that should be preached from it. It was situated in a flat clearing that was mowed every few weeks, and the door was unlocked most of the time. If the pastor wasn’t inside preparing for tomorrow’s lesson, then there was bound to be an elder or bishop who would leave the doors open should a soul choose to come in and request any prayers or ask scripture-related questions. Ronald knew that Pastor William Jr. would be in his office about now; he just hoped he wasn’t occupied at the moment.
The small trio of squirrels walked quietly into the carpeted lobby, and while they didn’t see anyone else, the unlocked door told them someone else was here. It was so quiet and clean in here that not even Peter dared utter a raucous peep. Ronald led them through another door into the nave. The younger child eyed the pews, tempted to play on them.
“Not now.” Ronald shook his head, reading his son’s mind.
Meanwhile, Ben looked up at the unadorned cross behind the pulpit, and his little ears drooped.
“How can You love me? I’m so bad…” He thought, subtly shaking his head.
Ronald led them through another door in the back wall that led into a short, carpeted hallway. Once there, they heard the soft whirring sound of a computer fan and keys being pressed rapidly. There was also the sound of an instrumental hymn playing from said computer
“It is well, it is well with my soul…” Ronald mouthed the words to himself as the melody poured soulfully from a clarinet. Out of his peripheral vision, he swore he saw Ben mouthing the words too, but he stopped as soon as Ronald turned his head slightly to make sure. Was Ben embarrassed?
Ronald rapped lightly on the door (though it was already open) and audibly cleared his throat to get the pastor’s attention
The brown bear who was about Ronald’s age swiveled suddenly in his chair to face the squirrels, as though they just roused him from an hours-long meditation.
“Oh, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t see you there; gimme a second.” William Jr. paused the music with the click of the mouse and faced the rodents once again. “Ronald, Ben, Peter; good to see you! Please come in and have a seat.”
“Thank you; I promise we won’t be long-”
“Nonsense, take all the time you need.” He gestured to some nearby chairs that looked more comfortable than the one he used for the computer. Ronald didn’t verbalize it, but he appreciated that the pastor thought more about his parishioners' comfort than his own. The two boys thanked him as they sat beside their father.
“May I get you anything? Water? A snack? We still have those leftovers from last week’s communion lunch.”
“I’m good, thank you. We really just stopped by because, well, we could use some prayer right now.” Ronald informed him then thought about how he should approach this. He wanted prayer for Ben, but would his son feel singled out in this scenario? He knew how his son thought; he’d interpret this session as a personal attack, as though he was the only person who ever needed intercession. On the other hand, Ben needed to know he was loved, not just by those in his vicinity, but by the Lord Himself.
Ronald made up his mind.
“I want prayer for my son, Benjamin.” He clarified, and as expected, his older son looked up at him with horror in his eyes.
“Dad!”
“Ben, please,” his dad took hold of his paw in a disarming manner, “this isn’t a personal attack. You’ve been feeling bad, and I want you to feel better. Don’t you want that?”
“Little buddy,” William Jr. stooped to be closer to Ben’s eye level, “he’s right. This is a good thing your father wants to do for you. If you were sick, wouldn’t you want your mother or father to take you to the doctor, or give you medicine?”
The squirrel nodded silently.
“And just like Jesus said, those who’re whole and healthy don’t need a physician, but those who’re sick. A lot of those people He helped didn’t treat it like they were being attacked; they wanted to be healed. They called and screamed out to Him for help. Be honest; do you know you need help?”
Ben nodded again, but wasn’t sold on the idea yet. “But…what if I’m just really bad and dumb?”
William’s brows furrowed at this unexpected non-sequitur. His gut reaction was to ask who in the world told him that, but took the conversation on a different route.
“How you feel about yourself doesn’t matter, little buddy. The Bible tells us we’re all sinners, but it also tells us Christ died to save us from our sins. You’re really focused on your sin…but don’t you think Jesus took care of that for you?”
Ben nodded silently.
“And do you think He only died and rose for people who’re ‘good enough’ or ‘smart enough’?” He air-quoted, to which Ben shook his head.
“I’m sorry I’m like this…I believe Jesus died for me and saved me…but I don’t feel like I deserve it…”
“My friend, that’s the whole point.” William nodded with a smile. “No one deserves it; what Christ did for you was a gift, not something you earned! You know Romans 6:23?”
Ben froze like an anxious contestant on a quiz show. He flicked his head towards his dad for a lifeline.
“The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is…” Ronald whispered.
“...life?” Ben guessed, then quickly corrected himself. “Eternal life?”
“Yes, and the point is that it’s a gift!” William Jr. reiterated with a gleeful laugh. “When your parents give you gifts, it’s not because you’re good enough or anything, it’s because they love you! The gospel of Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection’s the same way! If the pain and bloodshed Jesus went through for you isn’t proof of God’s love, then nothing is!”
Ben nodded, as the point William Jr. made was finally tunneling its way into his heart; he didn’t even need to answer such an obvious question to show he understood it. He knew he had no room for feeling terrible, inadequate, and hopeless if God was showering him with so much grace by the gospel.
But there was no guarantee Ben would always keep this in memory.
The pastor led the three through a prayer, thanking God for His insurmountable grace, and making supplication concerning Ben holding onto the peace and joy found in the gospel. When all was said and done, Ben felt better and thanked the pastor for his words.
“Don’t thank me, thank God.” He gave Ben a friendly headpat as they got up to leave. “Anyhow, what’re your plans for today?
“We’re having a picnic later with family; no special reason other than to enjoy some time with each other.”
“Oh right, I remember you told me last Sunday. How’re your dad and the others?”
“They’re doing great; thanks for asking. Evelyn and I haven’t seen them since last year, so we’re looking forward to it.”
“Glad to hear it, man. Well, don’t let me hold you up any longer; say hi to them for me, and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Of course, and thanks again for the help!”
“As iron sharpeneth iron.” William Jr. gave a smile and a nod. “Take care.”
There was a spring in Ben’s step as they left the church. His father was delighted to see it, but a bug in the back of his brain made him worry it was fleeting. On their way back towards the park, Ben even egged Peter on to chase him up one of the trees a couple times; Ronald was about to bark at them to stop so they could keep going, but restrained his paternal instinct just this once. It wasn’t often that Ben was the instigator of gaiety and laughter. His dad wanted him to enjoy this moment.
The three squirrels eventually saw the sky-blue sign a little further down the path that heralded their imminent entry into Blueberry Grove. The blueberry plants and cursive paintwork spelling out the name beckoned the small rodents into its azure paradise. All Ronald had to do was announce that it was just ahead, and the two children took off running like two little brown bullets.
“You kids’ll wear me out if you keep this up!” Ronald laughed and chased after them.
Ben turned his head to see their dad gaining on them. “Peter! Run!”
The older brother crossed successfully into Blueberry Grove, but the younger was captured. Ronald snagged Peter by the scruff of his neck and halted the helpless squirrel in his tracks, causing them both to tumble and roll over in a fused, furry ball of giggles and squealing.
“NO!” Peter kicked and flailed, but Ronald held him against his torso as he was positioned on his back.
“Too late! Now I’m gonna eat you up!” Ronald fake-nibbled his son’s ear.
“Ben! H-help!” Peter called for his brother amidst the laughing and tickling.
Ben turned and joined the shenanigans, more interested in creating more chaos than saving his little brother. It didn’t take long for them to get worn out; the three squirrels lied on their backs to catch their breath.
“Okay, okay…let’s not tire ourselves out too much…so we can enjoy the picnic later.” Ronald uttered between exhales. Not only did he relish seeing his sons enjoy themselves, he was brought back to those times when he and Cecilia played with Marcus in those early days. The wolf always pretended to be the big bad guy, and either Ronald or Cecilia had to outsmart him to rescue the other sibling. Every game ended up with the two squirrels in Marcus’ arms as he captured them in a big, warm hug (while not being too loud to be noticed by the mob, of course).
The three Averys leisurely ambled into the park, and Ronald directed them to a shaded picnic table.
“When’s mom and Rachel coming?” Ben asked as he plucked some blueberries from a plant.
“I’ll call her after I set my bag down. Hold on.”
Ronald dug his phone out of his bag and looked at the time. 2:30. Knowing Claudia’s obsession with being early, he expected to see her and the rest of his siblings in about fifteen minutes. She agreed to drive herself, Janet, Cecilia, and Xavier over. Then, Marcus and Diane would arrive probably not long after. He expected his wife was likely wrapping things up about now and ready to drive over with all the food she prepared. He was about to call her when his phone started buzzing.
Evelyn.
He swiped his paw across the screen and answered. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Just wanted to say I might be late.” She gave an agitated sigh. “This heckin’ ice cream maker jammed up on me!”
“If it’s too much of a problem, just forget it.” He told her. “We’ll understand.”
“I promised ice cream, and if I can’t deliver, then I heckin’ flubbed it.”
“Honey, you’re stressing again. Stop it, take a deep breath, relax.”
He heard her inhale and exhale calmly, then apologize.
“Don’t be sorry, I just want you to enjoy the day. If there’s no ice cream, we’ll live. You already made so much for everyone.”
Just then his phone started vibrating again. He saw it was his mother’s number.
“Uh, my mom’s calling; mind if I answer her real quick?”
“Not at all, thanks hon.” Evelyn sounded better. “We’ll see y'all later, with or without ice cream.”
Ben got his answer; mom would probably be late trying to get the ice cream done. Meanwhile, Peter was getting bored and started to wander from the table.
“Don’t go too far,” his dad ordered while he switched calls, “and stay away from the river. Same for you, Ben.”
Before Ronald could warn them any further, he got his mother on the line and turned his attention back to her. “Mom, how’s everything?” He asked, hearing Prokofiev playing on their car radio.
“It’s good, Ron,” Diane answered, “listen, we’re going to be a little late. Traffic’s a mess right now; I think there’s an accident up ahead.”
Ronald fettered a sigh in his lungs before it could escape. “They’re doing all that work on the 29; ForTrans always does this on weekend afternoons. I feel dumb about not warning you.”
“It’s not your fault.” She laughed. “There are three things certain in life; death, taxes, and traffic that always knows where to find you. We’ll be fine; just wanted to let you know in case you start wondering.”
Meanwhile, Ben and Peter wandered a little bit away from the table, but not so far that their father couldn’t see them. They could still hear him talking to their grandmother, but the sound of the rushing river began to drown him out.
“Have you seen the river before?” Ben asked. “It looks really, really cool. It’s all colorful and shiny and stuff.”
“Yeah I wanna see it!” Peter’s tail swished and he scurried in its direction.
“Wait up!” Ben chased him. “Be careful!”
Ronald’s conversation ended with his parents. As stressed as he was becoming about the picnic, he didn’t fail to notice his sons’ whereabouts.
“Kids!” He raced over to them. “What’d I just tell you?”
They stopped less than twenty feet from the river and faced him, guilt etched on their little faces, but Ben’s moreso. Their ears drooped and hands folded behind their backs.
“Sorry…” Ben uttered.
“The river’s dangerous.” He warned them. “You can look at it, but wait until all the adults are here. I don’t want either of you falling in and me not being able to help you; I may be your dad, but even I’m not strong enough to fight the torrents.”
Their dad’s speech had the effect of making the river’s rush sound louder and hungrier, or at least that’s how the kids’ ears perceived it.
“We won’t fall in-” Peter started.
“No.” Ronald scowled. “Go play elsewhere, and maybe I’ll let you enjoy the view when your aunts and uncle get here. Understand?”
“Yes, dad.” The boys conceded in unison.
For the next ten minutes, the brothers played in one of the sandboxes, and their father watched. Eventually, his attention began to waver as he kept looking in the direction of the parking lot to hear any sign of his wife, siblings, or parents (it was ensconced beyond a grove of trees and blueberry plants). He looked at his phone again.
2:42.
He started tapping his foot and fidgeting. He didn’t know why he was getting impatient; he figured it was only because Evelyn was having trouble with the cookware and his parents were stuck in traffic. The seeds were being planted for a rough picnic experience with stressed and irritated family members.
His phone buzzed again. This time, Cecilia.
“Good, they’re almost here!” The anxious dad thought. It was finally time to get the party rolling…soon, maybe? He answered it promptly.
“Sis! You almost here?”
“Uh…sort of? I think Claudia got us lost.”
“For the fourth time, we’re NOT lost!” Ronald heard the wolf growl. “We haven’t reached the stupid offramp yet!”
“We passed it back there!” Cecilia countered. “My map-”
“Your map’s wrong!”
The bickering continued (Xavier and Janet remaining silent) until Ronald yelled into his phone, making even his sons jump.
“Be quiet so I can guide you!” The irate squirrel commanded their attention.
Silence.
“Good. Okay…” He sighed. “Have you reached the Mapleton offramp yet? That’s the one you want. If you passed it, you went too far.”
“Uh…” Claudia muttered. “...I think we passed it. Next offramp is…Cherry Blossom Boulevard.”
“Okay, that’s not too bad; don’t sweat it. Get off there, hook a right, and then…”
The conversation dragged on, and the boys were becoming bored and hungry. Playground equipment was nice, but they were itching to see family again and enjoy the delicious bounty their little tummies craved. Their father losing his temper also put a damper on their playtime.
And Peter reeeeeeally wanted to see that river.
Just a few minutes before three, the conversation seemed to be nearing its conclusion.
“...Okay, so…we’ll stand in the lot so you can see us….okay, see you in a bit.”
Ronald was winded and agitated; for all the talk Claudia loved to drill into everyone about being early, she sure got lost easily. He stopped to gather himself again.
“Calm down. No need to blow a gasket over this. We’ll have a good picnic; family's doing well, Ben’s happy again. I have everything to be thankful for.”
Ronald exhaled, and though distracted, still remembered to instruct his sons to follow him to the lot.
“Come on, your aunts and uncle are almost here. Let’s help them find us.”
“Finally!” Peter exclaimed.
For the three of them to get to the lot, there was the option of hiking through the dense grove or walking around it. While going through it would give them a direct path, it would take longer due to all the plants they’d have to bob and weave around. Instead, Ronald led them around the grove, not wanting to use more energy than he already did. His slightly agitated pace helped compensate for the extra distance. On the flip side, his flustered state caused him to forget his things on the table. Hopefully no one took them, despite the park not being too crowded today.
Ben and Peter followed…well, not perfectly. The deviation to the right took the trio closer to the river; not enough to be dangerous, but just enough to be tantalizing.
The river’s unending rush was a siren’s melody in Peter’s ears; it was in Ben’s too, but this was Peter’s first time entranced by it. He looked in its direction. He couldn’t see the surface, but he could see splashes of water dancing forth in turbulent leaps, calling to the child’s curiosity.
“It’s just one look, Peter, just one…” The river beckoned.
His brother and father were ahead of him, but not by much. He slowed down and studied his options further.
“Dad said no…” He thought, knowing he should obey.
He gazed again towards the river; still walking, but not very focused on following his dad anymore. Upon further study and confirmation bias, Peter rationalized his thoughts.
“Doesn’t look bad…maybe I can look real quick; just one second…”
As quietly as a small squirrel could, he stealthily darted away from the other two towards the river. Surely his dad wouldn’t mind that; it wasn’t like he was going deep-sea diving.
Then he noticed the tree situated precariously along its bank. Its branches were sparse, as winter only recently ended, but looked more than sturdy enough to bear the weight of a little squirrel.
His eyes sparked with excitement…a better view!
Peter’s scurry nearly became a gallop as he gathered momentum and leapt as high as he could onto the tree. He paid no regard to the wired fence running along the river’s edge, nor the posted sign that showed a red line cutting through a silhouetted animal standing by the river, nor the line slicing through a tree with a squirrel standing on its branches. Below the images was printed in bold red: “DANGER. NO TRESPASSING.” These were merely suggestions in Peter’s mind; minor annoyances that detracted from the scenery.
“I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna jump or anything!”
The time that elapsed between Peter’s departure and now was only eight seconds. The last time either Ronald or Ben looked back at him was fifteen seconds.
Fifteen seconds wasn’t a long time…but was more than enough time to get into trouble.
Ben turned around to tell his brother a funny joke he just made up, only to see him on the tree branch suspended thirteen feet over the river.
“PETER! WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!”
Ronald was jolted by the outburst, and he pivoted instantaneously to behold the same view. He took off running; not having run this fast since the time he fled from Jack.
“Peter!” He barked, hot rage in his voice. “Get down from there! NOW!”
The six-year old froze, startled by getting caught so soon. He didn’t expect them to notice so quickly that he broke away. He found himself halfway between the trunk, where the branch was thickest, and the tapered tip. He looked down to gauge the branch’s width of where he stood. It was just narrow enough for him to get a good view of the river.
And it was much faster and scarier than he thought.
“D-dad…?” The little squirrel was paralyzed. Ronald noticed the sudden grip of terror that held his son firm. It was the kind of terror that consumed someone who found himself in a situation he thought would be safe, but revealed its danger too late. The squirrel’s claws dug into the branch as tightly as they could.
“I’m scared…” He started to cry.
His father scurried up to the branch but didn’t tread on it yet. He cooled down his anger for now and donned his rescuer mode. He extended his paw toward him.
“Walk calmly towards me, and don’t look down. The branch won’t break, I promise.”
Peter attempted a first step, but quickly retracted as his movement caused a subtle sway of the branch. More tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m gonna fall…”
“Okay, wait there. I’ll get you, don’t worry.” Ronald remained calm, though his heart was racing. Ben stood at the base of the tree, not daring to join them. He stared in disbelief and horror as thirteen feet separated his little brother from certain death. His pulse bolted to the neighborhood of 180bpm; his palms became sweaty, and his eyes moistened upon watching him stand petrified on that branch.
Ronald took his first step towards Peter, and that’s when something unexpected happened. It was something nobody could’ve seen coming, and yet…was a trademark in Ronald’s life. It happened to him the first time twenty-six years ago, resulting in him and his sister fleeing their forest home and encountering Marcus, their eventual father. The second time happened nine years later when a stray firework launched at Ronald’s behest, resulting in the destruction of an innocent man’s business, and eventually, his suicide. It happened again, just now…
A third explosion.
This one emanated from within the bowels of the earth, but was shallow enough to rattle the ground like a behemoth on a rampage. Ronald immediately took hold of the trunk for support, but Peter had less to work with. The smaller squirrel lost his footing and fell. However, it wasn’t the end for him, as his right foot got caught between the branch and a twig. It wouldn’t have been enough to support the weight of a human child, but Peter wasn’t heavy enough to break it. The squirrel tumbled backwards; the action of his foot getting caught prevented him from falling to his death, but also twisted his foot awkwardly and suddenly enough to break it.
Peter’s scream pierced the air, and Ben started to cry and hyperventilate. Ronald fought against his nerves and the rocking of the tree, but felt like his heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He didn’t know the source of the explosion, but could worry about that later.
“DADDY!” Peter wailed in agony as he dangled above the mighty river. His cries tore at his father's heart.
“Stay calm!” Ronald yelled both to his son and himself. He inched his way towards Peter, his claws digging and hooking into the branch, knowing what a fragile situation this was. Moisture in his eyes developed, but he powered through his obscured vision. His son would make it out of this alive; he’d make sure of it.
Peter’s view of the river was not the pleasant experience he hoped for. The brilliant colors beneath its surface were squelched by the interminable voraciousness of the river’s roar and rush. It was a monster that didn’t care whether Peter fell victim to it or not. If he did, it would consume him and continue raging along with no remorse. Peter’s squeals and cries persisted, but his father inched ever closer.
“Don’t move!” Ronald ordered over the monstrous monotone of the river. “I’m going to free you right now!”
Ronald’s plan was to crouch onto his belly so he could reach Peter and pull him up. Once safely in his arms, he’d nudge his foot free and get him right side-up again. He’d then carry his injured son by the scruff of his neck to safety. It’d be ideal if professional rescue personnel were here, but Ronald feared there wouldn’t be time to call any, so he had to do this himself.
Now.
Then...the unthinkable happened.
Another explosion.
This one felt much closer to them, almost like it was directly beneath the tree. In a matter of seconds, everything crumbled. Peter was shaken free from the tree like a piece of fruit suspended flimsily from its branch, and he plunged head-first into the swiftly-moving river. Ben had no time to register what just happened; he caught the expression of stark, wide-eyed terror on his brother’s face just a half-second before the river claimed him and forced him beneath its unforgiving surface. His dad plummeted into the river right after. To make matters worse, the subterranean explosion caused small craters to form in the ground and in the river, causing the torrent to rage its course even faster.
Just like that, his father and brother were gone. Ben pursued them along the river’s bank in panicked desperation, hoping and praying amidst his tears and unfathomable dread that they would be okay.
The truth was that no one was going to be okay.