Chapter 3 - The Green Notebook
The first few pages contained drawings of trees, birds, and simple weather observations Luke had made during his school term. But starting three weeks ago—the exact date I had dropped him off at the farmhouse—the entries changed.
Luke had been keeping a daily log.
Because I had taught him to write in a journal to help with his reading skills, he had turned his habit into an meticulous, heartbreaking record of his time with his grandmother.
I stood in the dim light of the pantry, my back against the pine shelving, and read his small, penciled words:
July 6: Grandma took the grocery card Mom left. She went to the store with Aunt Bridget. They came back with toys for Connor. Connor got a giant Lego set. Grandma said my toys were at home and I didn't need anything. Lunch was bread with mustard.
July 10: Connor broke the ceramic plate in the porch room. Grandma said it was my fault because I was standing near him. She made me clean the glass. I cut my thumb. Aunt Bridget said I was clumsy. Grandma locked my bike in the shed so I couldn't ride with the neighborhood kids.
July 14: I found the hundred dollars Mom put in my zip pocket for emergency ice cream. Grandma took it out of my drawer. She said little boys don't need money and gave it to Connor for his game account.
July 18: Grandma brought two men to the house today. They were wearing suits. They walked around the barn and took pictures of the south field. Grandma told them the owner was willing to sell the three acres behind the creek for forty thousand dollars. She signed a paper. She told Aunt Bridget that when the money came, they were going to rent an apartment in Florida.
My breath hitched in my throat.
I re-read the entry for July 18th three times.
The three acres behind the creek.
My father had left me forty acres of prime Gettysburg farmland. Three years ago, when Evelyn was complaining about her tight pension, Patrick had suggested we allow his mother to stay at the farmhouse during the summer months to oversee the maintenance. I had agreed, out of respect for my husband.
Evelyn hadn't just been emotionally abusing my son.
She was attempting to sell my land.
I flipped to the next page.
July 21: I tried to call Mom on the kitchen phone. Aunt Bridget grabbed the receiver and unplugged it from the wall. She said if I told Mom anything, she would tell the police I stole Connor’s tablet and they would take me away. I am keeping this book in my bag behind the broom. I hope Mom comes soon.
May you like
A cold, terrifying calm settled over me. The anger that had been burning in my chest converted into something hard, dense, and absolute.
I closed the green notebook, slid it beneath my shirt, and walked back into the kitchen.
