The following Saturday
A lot transpired over the last seven days. Willowbrook Mining Co., the company that ignited dynamite in a cave under Blueberry Grove, was charged with a litany of felonies. It included involuntary manslaughter. causing severe injury, defying the order not to perform mining activities in that location, and desecration of the environment. Ronald was obligated to appear in court for the hearings and trial, as he was the one who both issued the order and lost his son. He would be subpoenaed as both witness and plaintiff. As much as he didn’t want to dredge those memories up over and over, he knew it’d be unjust to let them get away with their actions. Intended or not, they killed his son.
The Averys were also thrust into the civil and criminal case against William Rakowsky. Ben begged his parents if he could stay out of it; the prospect of facing Bill again rattled him to his core. He’d see his gnarled expression and bared fangs in his nightmares enough. Melody was stronger; she insisted on being in court whenever Bill was and making sure he got away with nothing. She’d spend hours on the witness stand if that’s what it took. Everything he did to her, Ben, and his multitudinous victims needed to be exposed.
The kangaroo wasn’t the only one.
A suit was filed against NBS as well; Rodney staying true to his threat. They circumvented the authority of a government official by running a story contingent on the coroner’s findings. They also circumvented the authority the Averys wielded in this case. It was illegal to broadcast stories of sensitive nature with specific names without express permission of the family. On top of that, the story was a slander against Ben. It didn’t take a lot more burrowing to find out the station bribed the sheriff for information. Needless to say, heads were going to roll (despite running a corrected story that included a lengthy apology to the family).
Since Ronald was reluctant to join the suit, mostly due to the stress that’d arise from dealing with Willowbrook, Marie offered to represent him and his family in absentia. She earned her certification to practice law six years ago and focused largely on civil cases. As far as the criminal aspect of the case was concerned, another lawyer would handle that. Marie was familiar with media slander, especially in the days following her husband’s passing, and didn’t want them to abscond with treating her friend’s son the same way.
Ben felt no less guilty about his brother’s death, but was relieved he didn’t have to get involved in any of these cases. The only thing on his mind the whole week leading to today was the memorial service.
He did not look forward to it.
He could feel the guilt bubbling up...
-
It was noon, two Saturdays after Peter was translated into heaven. Not a cloud dotted the sky as friends and family gathered into the nave of Pine Trails Bible Church. They donned formal attire and accessories for the occasion, as this day was set aside for remembering Peter. The service would start shortly; the pastor was in his office talking to two of his congregants. One of them was new.
“I...can’t believe you’re his son!” Melody shook her head, Ben sat beside her. “I admit, uh...I had a hard time paying attention last Sunday when I connected the dots...I knew something was odd when I saw Bill the first time. It wasn’t ‘til last week I figured out the nice bear who talked to me in prison was that...that...monster’s son. You’re nothing like him.”
The pastor nodded with a pained sigh. “I...knew he had problems with my beliefs, but didn’t realize he was kidnapping and euthanizing people this whole time. I'm so, so sorry; ‘ashamed’ doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“He hid his operation really well; anyone who found out about it never got out alive. He bragged about his, uh…” Melody shuddered, a tremulous chill shot through her spine. “...success rate while I was tied up. He assured me others said no before me, yet managed to break each of them down until they took the pill. In that case...he would’ve killed Ben eventually. No one outside ever knew about this until I called the police.”
The bear frowned and shook his head. “I’m aghast he did these horrible things. I...wish I’d known so I could’ve done something.”
“It’s alright...I’m just glad we were able to escape...and I’m thankful you talked to me about God before he trapped me." A light smile graced her face. "It motivated me to live.”
Ben nodded, though in his default posture of slumped shoulders and downcast visage.
“Ben,” William Jr. cleared his throat, “I hope you’re thankful to be alive. Did you go to his house because you felt bad and wanted help?”
The younger squirrel tilted his head up to look him in the face. “I, uh...yeah. I-I’m sorry…”
“Don’t apologize; he’s the one who tricked you.”
“B-but...I shouldn’t have gone…I-I didn’t know if I wanted to live anymore.”
The bear nodded. “Sounded like my father had a knack for finding sad people and convincing them they should die.”
“I sometimes wanted to die...even before I saw Bill.” Ben added.
“I know,” The pastor recalled Evelyn describing the picture Ben drew and tried to hide. Cecilia showed it to her in private, leading the mother and son into a heartfelt discussion about the gift of life. “and understand. Do you still feel this way sometimes?”
Ben adamantly shook his head. “N-no. I-I wanted to die before...but, uh...when I thought about my family a-and life, and stuff...I-I changed my mind…”
“I’m glad you did.” His eyes drifted over to the clock on his computer monitor. Five past noon. Service was supposed to start five minutes ago. “One more question.” His eyes met Ben’s. “...Do you still feel guilty about your brother?”
Ben’s gaze shifted downwards and to the side. “I….” He moaned. “It’s...it’s all my fault…”
“Stop that.” Melody took his paw with hers, like a big sister caring for her little brother. “Why do you keep saying that cra-, er, nonsense?”
“Because it’s true...everything’s my fault.” He didn’t face her; his words spilling out like a robot obedient to its script of catchphrases and idioms.
William Jr. let out a pensive grunt. Ben looked up, startled, but saw that the bear was only thinking. What was he thinking of? He wasn’t angry or perturbed; he appeared as though he was concocting a plan. It was then Ben noticed the resemblance in the pastor’s face. He nearly looked like his father; even his voice was similar. Same fur pattern, eye color, very similar angles in the face, et cetera. The differences were that he was younger, less wrinkly, and slightly rounder. Ben almost instinctively shrank into the back of the giant chair until he noticed one more contrast.
It was that he wasn’t suggesting the squirrel take a pill and be done with his life. Bill the elder would’ve trapped and pressured him into perishing, avoiding further pain life offered. Bill the younger wanted the child to live.
He had a far better tool for attacking guilt than his father.
-
The pine pews were lined and filled with not just Peter’s family and friends, but classmates, teacher, and other citizens from Pine Trails. Mister Larson was there, the Averys’ neighbors were there, peers from Peter’s Sunday school were there. Angelica, Marcus’ older sister, was there, and her family. Marie and her three children were there; Ronald taken aback at how much bigger they were since he last saw them. Dylan and Beth were in college and Jacqueline was in her high school’s band. There were peers from Ronald and Cecilia’s high school; even Ashley, his ex, was there (making Ronald slightly tense at first, but eased up when she told him she had a family of her own and wasn’t the irresponsible person she was sixteen years ago). Rodney was there, as was Carla and her family (made Ben’s day far better when she nearly suffocated him in a tight hug and told him how much she missed him. He reciprocated her sentiment with warmth that was rare reserved, yet heartfelt). The rest of Peter’s family occupied the front row; Marcus, Ronald, and Ben all happening to sit beside each other.
Three beings...three generations…
Three stories of guilt.
-
A cheerful picture of Peter beamed at the rest of the room from the front of the nave. It showed him playing in their backyard on his sixth birthday. He wore a Mighty Space Tigers party hat and was caught swinging from the tire swing mid-motion. His expression and body language were full of life; his mirthful grin causing others in the room to smile. Flowers of vibrant shades and shapes adorned the area around the standing picture. Blues, yellows, pinks, reds, and oranges. Full, green leaves framed their petals, and polished, ceramic pots held these plants sturdy. Some were white, some a soft tan, some dark blue. Music played lightly from a speaker situated near the picture while people waited. The playlist consisted of some Sunday school songs Peter liked. Others were pieces he heard his wolf aunts and uncle play before and loved. There was also a silly song from Mighty Space Tigers that made the cut because it always make him laugh, and it’d help to bring a little levity to the room. Diane and Claudia came in early to make sure everything was the way Ronald and Evelyn wanted. William Jr. helped as well; he was there since eight.
“You did a wonderful job.” Evelyn remarked, brushing a tear from her eye. “Thank ya...Peter would’ve loved this.”
“I know.” Her mother-in-law put a gentle paw on her back. “He’d want everyone to feel happy.”
“That’s 'im.” Evelyn smiled wistfully. “He was such a happy child…”
Her eyes darted for a split second towards her other son.
...Did she see a subtle smile on his face?
-
William Jr. opened the service by thanking everyone for coming and leading everyone in a song commonly sung in the children’s class. It was one Peter told him was his favorite a few Sundays ago. It was about the endless joy found in God and in the gospel. It was short and moved with sprightly lilt and melody. Singing it brought memories to Ronald and Evelyn’s minds of him running around the house after church and singing it. Ronald put an arm lovingly around her shoulder when he heard her sniffle.
Afterwards, time was allotted for people to speak; relate cute and interesting snippets of their own lives they shared with Peter. His teacher, Mrs. Cooper, talked about what a joy he was to have in her class. He always sang the loudest and wanted to be friends with all his classmates. Carla braved through the tears and reminisced about the fond memories she had of playing with Peter and Ben at the park. Others came up and recounted different stories. Evelyn treasured them all; not one story was trite. Their accounts both lifted her heart and filled her with a guttural yearning she knew would reside in her the rest of her life.
After friends and family finished speaking, there was a short movie-slide show Diane put together consisting of dozens of photos of Peter and accompanying music. They ranged from comical and adorable to sugary sweet. Evelyn had a difficult time holding herself up. Each image of her son that swished by every few seconds drove her deeper into the throes of longing. Her husband noticed she was struggling not to break into pieces.
“P-peter…” She stammered, her jittery paw reached for some tissues and wiped her eyes. “My baby…”
Ronald put his arm around her in consoling fashion and gently nudged her head to lean on his shoulder. He was quieter, but tears flowed down his cheeks all the same.
“Our little boy...we loved him to the end…” He sighed. His eyes glanced down to the little pamphlet Claudia prepared for the memorial. Seeing his son’s name, picture, and brevity of lifespan on the first page filled him with heavy rocks that crushed the rest of his insides. He could barely process the fact this was his son.
Peter Tannis Avery, in Loving Memory
[Picture of Peter enjoying the tire swing]
June 8, 2005 – March 31, 2012
Ronald laid a paw mournfully over the picture, softly touching his son’s face.
“I was right there...If I was just a little faster…”
A single, fresh tear dotted the page.
His mind drifted along the river of remorse and reached into his past. Pieces of Jack’s memorial service replayed themselves as though it was only yesterday.
“If I never launched that firework…if I never listened to Ashley...”
The rocks grew heavier.
-
Ben sat beside his father, ears drooped and eyes wet from viewing the slide show.
“I-I’m so sorry…” He whimpered. “I-I should've turned around more sooner...I’m so bad…”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
-
The images also flooded Marcus’ mind with distant memories and familiar sentiments. His first major encounter with mortality was the aftermath of the explosion he was blamed for. Though he would find out it wasn’t his fault...certain sensations crept through and tingled his spine with the long-buried thistles of guilt.
“All those innocent people...c-could I have done anything to stop it?...Could I have...possibly known?”
-
William Jr. stepped up to deliver a message after the slide presentation. He waited for the quiet chatter and sobs to taper before saying anything. He cleared his throat, drank a bit of water from a plastic bottle, and commenced.
“On behalf of the Averys and myself, thank you for being here. At times like this, something as simple as your presence means a lot, especially when you can’t think of something to say. Words sometimes may not do the trick, but just bein’ there for someone tells them you care.” His eyes briefly swept over the wolves and squirrels in the front pew, catching their nods. “The Bible says that we weep with those who weep, and when one member of the body suffers, we suffer with them...It also says this is a present, evil world, and in that world, everything is bound for corruption. Everything has an end. Nothing’s been untainted by the fall...even the people we love and cherish; those we would sacrifice our own lives for, are affected by it. However,” William Jr. scanned the faces in the room to make sure people were following along, “there’s a reason we’re not hopeless. We may feel defeated and crushed, like life isn’t fair, but those of us in Christ have an unashamed hope. A reason that, even when we cry, we can rest assured in victory. We trust in Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life, our Lord, our Saviour, manifold in mercies and abundant in grace. We can rejoice any second of any day because He died for our sins, was buried, and rose again the third day to give eternal life to us who trust in Him. We can be assured that the same God who saved Peter and appointed him a heavenly position in Christ has done the same for us. We cry not because Peter is suffering or is missing something spectacular in this world...but because we miss him. He was loved and valued, as all godly parents would treat their child. We’ll miss the impact he had on everyone around him; his cheerful smile, his laugh, his rambunctious singing I could always hear from my office.”
Light-hearted chuckles sounded from the listeners.
“We could learn a lot from him; he really loved life. Just about every time I’ve ever talked to him, he always waxed eloquent on how he couldn’t wait to go to heaven and see Jesus.”
Evelyn wiped some moisture from her eyes; Ronald continued holding her.
“As a kid, he was far from understanding the whole Bible. He also fantasized about his favorite cartoons playing up there twenty-four seven and seeing his cartoon heroes there.”
More laughs.
“But his heart and affections were in the right place. He understood he wasn’t perfect and needed a Saviour. On March thirty-first, he finally met his Saviour...we would’ve liked to keep him longer, but at least his hope and faith have been fully realized.”
Some ‘amens’ were uttered. William Jr. took another gulp of water. He was not quite done yet.
He was merely going to change the topic.
“Much as we like to think that memorial services are only about honoring the life of someone we loved, as we shower the Averys with thoughtful words and adorable anecdotes, they’re more than that. They’re opportunities for us to reflect and evaluate how our own lives are running.” He leaned a bit onto his lectern; not that he was trying to be more casual, but that he wanted to be more personal. His eyes landed for a few seconds on Ronald and Ben. “It’s not comfortable...but a recent conversation I had prompted me to talk about this. When horrors like this happen to us...guilt is inevitable.”
Ben’s ears perked in alarm. This was it; now was the time of chastisement and execution. The pastor knew he was guilty all along. Soon, the congregation would rise and cast stones at his cowering frame.
“Killer!”
“Murderer!”
“Devil!”
Ronald heard him moan. He grabbed his shoulder gently, but in a firm manner. Without saying anything, he told him there was nothing to worry about.
William Jr. continued; his eyes returning to surveying the room. “It’s natural to think ‘could I have done something different?’ or ‘I should’ve done such-and-such sooner or faster.’ When you lose a loved one in such circumstances, you feel survivor’s guilt...almost like you’re to blame for not doing enough and you feel like it should’ve been you instead.”
No one stirred.
“Now...I won’t stand here and sugarcoat what that’s like...that pain is akin to the actual loss, and worse yet...the pain is always going to be there. Sure, you might bury it for a while and continue your life like normal, but all it takes is one trigger...one catalyst, and...that thing you did or didn’t do last week or thirty years ago comes back to haunt you.”
Marcus and Diane cast awkward, sideways glances at each other. William Jr.’s eyes landed on Ben again for a second. “And sometimes, you could be completely innocent of something and still feel like it’s all your fault. Colossians two-thirteen said you’ve been forgiven of all your sins, Galatians three-thirteen said Christ was made a curse for us, and second Corinthians five-twenty-one; Christ, who knew no sin, was made sin for us that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. The sin’s been expunged, slate wiped clean when we trusted the gospel. We’re made new, washed, declared innocent from heaven’s courtroom, yet we still wallow in the throes of guilt from time to time.”
A small voice in the back corner of Ben’s mind: “Stupid punk, you let Peter die…” The squirrel entertained the voice but William Jr. persisted.
“And lest you think I’m Mister Perfect who has nothing to feel bad about...you must have all heard about my father by now...a man, that, this whole time, I thought was honest, gentle, and law-abiding. I thought I knew him, but now I think...did I miss any signs? Red flags? How could this man have killed and kidnapped...dozens, last I heard, and I completely missed it? Could I have done something to stop him? Save those lives?” He wiped his brow. “Probably not, but the guilt isn’t any less strong than if I’d known.”
Nobody in that room saw this towering grizzly so vulnerable. The voice in Ben’s mind continued to pelt incendiary accusations at him, but the squirrel was transfixed by the bear.
“I technically did nothing wrong, but it crushes me that maybe something could’ve been done and now I’ll never know. This goes to show you that guilt may not always be a result of wrongdoing, or failing to do right…” His eyes turned to Ronald and Ben once more. “it could be a result of failing to view yourself through the work of Christ...you could be innocent, pure, a godly model of behavior...and all Satan has to do is pick at that little flaw to make you feel like dirt. Like you don’t matter. Worthless. Every curse in the book.”
“STUPID little shit.” Ben subconsciously added. His eyes met William Jr.’s. Neither turned from the other.
“Every thought of yours is about how bad you are and how God can’t possibly love you because you’re so bad. Even when you’re innocent, the guilt attacks...it happens to everyone...”
-
Marcus recalled the forest fire like it was last week. Twenty-five years ago...chaos, destruction, everyone fleeing...some who couldn’t flee...The smell of burning...acrid fumes choking...lifeless, charred remains strewn here and there. Deer, foxes, raccoons, squirrels, stoats...Diane was gone too...it was his fault. Irresponsible. Negligent. Criminal.
WANTED for murder.
He said nothing of it over the last twenty-five years...but the gray wolf always felt a tiny pang of guilt even after finding out he was innocent. The thought that, maybe...he could’ve spotted the danger beforehand...he could’ve maybe saved those lives.
Ronald found himself back with Ashley. Match in hand, poised, fuse lit...had time to stop. Time to blow it out and call off the night. Go home and sleep.
“It’s fun, Ron! Come on!” She shook his arm eagerly. “Don’t be a square!”
...Up the firework went...down it careened with an ear-piercing whistle...into a building...deafening explosion. Walls, plaster disintegrating. Windows shattering, blowing out. Alarms, panic, adrenaline, fleeing.
A man’s livelihood destroyed.
Some time later, Ronald stood on the ledge. Back against the granite wall, a black sable glared at him from the other side. Teeth bared, eyes psychotic, saliva dripping as a crazed, rabid predator. A leap...a roar...arms, legs fully extended...prepared to kill...
SNAP!
Marie lost her husband...Jacqueline lost a father she would never see...Ronald said nothing of it over the past sixteen years, but he wished in the days following Jack would’ve survived instead of him. He had less to lose than the entrepreneur, husband, and father of three. He remembered holding back tears as he held Jacquelyn before leaving for Pratley.
“...Should’ve been me...I’m so sorry…”
Even Diane wasn't exempt. Smelled the strange flowers; sweet aromas permeated her senses...slept...woke up...children missing...kidnapped. Any mother would've erred, but that didn't stop the pounding throbs of guilt coursing through her at the time. Intermittent trickles of shame seeped through her veins whenever she recalled it. Negligent...irresponsible...terrible mother.
Everyone sat steeped in similar thoughts. Guilt slipped and slithered through the aisles; its scales grating against each soul.
It knew everyone by name.
-
“Ben...Ronald...everyone in Christ...Don’t entertain the guilt another second...deal with it once for all. It’s there to ruin your peace and joy you have in Christ! Forget those things which are before; set your affections and desires on God!” He raised his voice; not in anger, but in passion. There was a spark in his eye as his words accelerated slightly. “Listen...it doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t your fault...God didn’t create us to teeter and totter through life entrenched in endless guilt. The gospel put an end to that; the blood that Christ shed blotted out every sin...God forgave it all!” He came short of pounding his lectern. “And maybe things won’t change overnight, and with heavy remorse and regrets, it rarely ever does. But...God is patient, longsuffering...you can pray to Him anytime, read His word anytime...whenever that accuser wrings his hands and gloat over your faults...fire back with the truth of the gospel. You’re secure, safe, loved…” His voice slowed down and softened a bit. “God loves you, Ben. God loves you, Ronald...Marcus...every last one of you. The gospel of peace is open to anyone...the peace of God is free to take…no wile or vice on behalf of guilt can stop you...and certainly not God.”
His eyes and warmth-filled expression landed on Ben one more time.
“...But you have to be the one to tell that guilt to go away. You’ll either let the peace of God rule your heart...or spend every day in endless sadness.”
Ben stood on the dividing line.
Marcus put a paw around his son and grandson, bringing them towards himself in paternal affection. Both squirrels welcomed it. Three beings, three generations...three stories of guilt…
Three stories of redemption.
“And with that…” William Jr. gazed upon the entire crowd with a warm smile. “I hope you choose well. Amen, and be blessed. If you'd like to know how to have that peace, feel free to come up and talk to me. Thank you.”
After the service, some came up to the pastor, expressing interest in obtaining lasting peace and forgiveness. Not many, but enough to know at least a few were convicted and wanted real redemption. Ashley was one of them, which made Ronald happy. Another one was a wolf about Marcus' age. Tattooed and haggardly...but humble. Ronald couldn't put a finger on his identity, but Marcus was dumbstruck when he noticed him.
"...PHIL?!"
Marcus had no idea how he even knew about this service...but seeing that old villain here...it showed the extensiveness of God's mercy. Marcus had the urge to talk to him...Extend reconciliation after all this time.
Meanwhile, Ben didn’t move in either direction of that dividing line...yet. One side was a gloomy gulch, bustling with hooked, jagged brambles. Molten slime oozing from pores, coagulating into swamps of black sludge. Toxic, mustard-green wisps and clouds strangling all life. Never-ending guilt. Regret. Remorse. Death. A voice resembling Bill’s gruffly urged the young squirrel to this side.
The other side...A pasture, tall, luscious grasses swaying in constant motion with a caressing breeze. Springs weaving through verdant banks of fertile soil. Birds chirping, singing, melodious minuets swirling about in sanguine contours. Life, frolicking, merriment. Sunshine and blue skies with no end. Forgiveness. Mercy.
A Saviour who loved Ben enough to die for him.
With a quiet glance and defiant heart...he ignored Bill’s voice and the voice railing against him with repeated accusations…
And stepped towards life.
-
Three Months Later
The evening, summertime air wafted through the Averys’ house. Dahlias, daisies, and coneflowers Evelyn planted lined the walkway to their door. Ronald’s car was not there. He and his wife were in Evergreen, dealing with what they hoped would be the last time they would have to look at Cole Warwick, Director of Operations with Willowbrook. He was the one who ordered the miners to conduct the blasts under Blueberry Grove the day Peter lost his life. Though the walrus expressed some remorse over the squirrel’s passing, he was much more aghast at the seven-figure settlement he was ordered to pay (going against Ronald's instruction, involuntary manslaughter against Peter, severe injury against Ronald, the surgery and recovery in the hospital with accompanying bills, and the time he lost not being able to work). Ronald could’ve angled for a steeper penalty, but he and Evelyn wanted to put this behind them as quickly as possible.
Combined with what Marie won for them in the NBS suit, and Bill's fines (on top of his lifetime sentence), a nest egg was created far greater than Ronald could’ve ever imagined. He could’ve retired that instant and paid his children’s college a dozen times over.
It meant nothing to him or Evelyn. No settlement was worth the hellish nightmare they experienced. They’d much rather have their son back.
A different car was parked in their driveway. Run down by years of use and only moderately functional. It was that of someone just getting by...or someone starting afresh.
“Kids!” Melody’s voice resonated down the hall. “Come on, I have that game you wanted to play!”
Giggling from Ben’s room. “Hide!”
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
Rustling items and objects; a couple books falling.
“Hiding again?” The babysitter nudged the door open and stepped into the messy room. “Uh-oh, toys everywhere? Tsk tsk, guess I’ll have to tell someone’s parents when they get home-”
“No!” Ben and Rachel darted out from a narrow gap between the wall and bookshelf as though racing against a torrent of hot water. “W-we’ll clean it up!”
“Goes for you too, Carla.”
“Aw man!” Another brown squirrel sheepishly slipped out from the toy chest and joined the siblings. “Well, Miss Melody,” Carla cleared her throat in an exaggerated way to sound official and persuasive. “It’s not MY room, and they’re not MY parents, so...I don’t actually-”
“Well, you DID play with them, right?” Melody cocked an eyebrow.
“Uh...yeah…” Carla’s ears drooped and her paws joined nervously behind her back.
“And you should pick up toys that you played with...right?”
“…………….yeah.”
“Good.” The gray squirrel smiled and clasped her paws. “Now, let’s pick all this up before we play my game, alright?”
Carla and her family moved back next door two weeks ago. Her father’s business venture was abrupt and less-than-successful, forcing them to return to Pine Trails. Grateful their old house was still listed, they swooped back in and tried to resume life as before. Carla’s parents were home; she just wanted to play with Ben and Rachel today.
Meanwhile, Ronald and Evelyn were willing to give Melody another chance. Her new criminal record made it harder for her to find a job, but the squirrel parents were convinced she was a changed person. It was the least they could do to express gratitude for saving their son’s life. Melody didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, but knew having some money would make some decisions more feasible. She was ever-thankful and felt validated by their forgiveness.
As Melody tossed a stuffed, astronaut-suited tiger onto the bed, she uncovered a piece of paper. The side facing her was blank, but strident, garish crayon markings on the other side bled through.
“Oh no…” Melody heard about the previous drawing Ben created...it broke her heart. He tore up that drawing after the memorial service, insisting that wasn’t him anymore.
Perhaps he reverted.
With a heavy, hesitant heart, she flipped the page.
“NO!” Ben scrambled over, ready to rip the artistic atrocity out of her nosy paws. “I-It’s ugly!”
Melody held the paper up and kept Ben away with her other paw. Her eyes scanned the crude arrangement of lines, forms, and colors.
“Ben…” Melody’s eyes shifted to him.
“I-I’m sorry…” His ears drooped and shoulders slumped. “i-it’s real ugly and bad and not good and-”
“It’s...lovely.” The gray squirrel smiled and brought him closer with a one-armed hug. “...this is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. You should show this to your parents!”
-
Later that night, Ben’s masterpiece adorned the refrigerator. The artist continued whipping himself over its quality, but Ronald and Evelyn adored it.
A likeness of Ben occupied the center; a penciled assortment of ovals and sticks coalesced into what could pass as a squirrel. Streaks of brown and pink crayon wildly wended their way about; the figure’s outline merely a suggestion. What Ronald and Evelyn loved were the differences between this piece and the last one.
Ben was smiling. Happiness. Bliss. A blue sky and sun hung triumphantly over him. The background was a green hill, and speckled dots representing flowers decorated its slopes. Scrawled beneath the image were eight words spelled in a vivacious array of rainbow hues. It was the best part of the drawing.
“God luves me and God luves you too!”
Ben’s story had a ways to go, but at least the character was going in the right direction.
And sometimes...that alone is reason to smile.
