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The trees, the houses, and the power lines connecting them whipped by creating a parade of boring inanimate objects racing through Jack’s brain. Jack was zoned out. Jack wanted to be zoned out to kill the pain, to kill the memories. He leaned his head against the cold train window and tried his best to fall into a deep sleep. He didn’t want a restless sleep because then haunting dreams of his past would invade and he had enough pain approaching him in this unexpected visit back to his hometown.

It had been 5 years since his last visit and that was to attend his fathers funeral which he could barely remember because it was so clouded by the whiskey and the Valium. His father had drunk himself to death by the city’s water tower. Now he was experiencing the pleasure of returning to bury his mother. “I sure would like for you to come home and visit for a spell” those were the last words spoken to him by his mom and that was six months ago? Maybe seven?

The screeching brakes of the train startled Jack and he opened his eyes to see the lonely hometown train station looming ahead. It was almost dusk and there was just one light bulb shining on the long wooden platform which was empty but for benches and ancient rocking chairs scattered along the wall. Not a soul in sight. Not that Jack expected anyone to be waiting for him but he thought he might see someone, anyone that he might recognize. It looked like it was going to be a three mile hike to the homestead with no idea what he would find when he arrived.

The train didn’t stay long and no one else got off the train other than Jack and the conductor with his crew to grab some coffee before continuing on to Kansas City. Jack put his backpack on using both straps for the long hike to the Campbell Farm where he had lived his entire life prior to leaving six years before in the middle of the night to catch a train to Chicago.

When Jack approached the broken down white picket fence and the yard surrounding the farmhouse with weeds, he immediately felt regret for leaving his mother to care for this place all alone. He had left her not just once but twice. He remembered sitting on the porch with her after his father’s funeral and as she begged him to stay, he just kept staring out into the empty fields and longed to be back in his quiet apartment, locked away from all of the world’s trouble. He thought about the girl he had loved and how he had chosen booze over her and like a coward took a train out of town without so much as a goodbye.

The paint was peeling off of the wood siding and some of the shutters were hanging and blowing in the wind. He walked around back, entered the unlocked mudroom, took off his shoes out of habit, and pulled the door key out of the copper pot sitting in the corner covered in spider webs. When he entered the kitchen, he could see his mom with her bright red and white apron, smiling at him and beckoning him to come in. Her image faded as he looked at his mother’s favorite mug lying in the sink on its side and just a single small plate with a fork and a knife. Probably used by his mom for her last supper.

Jack was tired so he laid his backpack on the floor and curled up on the faded floral turquoise couch. He slowly drifted off to sleep listening to the loud tick tock of the family Grandfather clock. Restless dreams and dark memories flooded in as his mind took him back to his father’s funeral. Visions of his mom standing so strong for hours next to his father’s casket as she greeted every single visitor for the 3 hour calling. Memories of walking in and out of the funeral home to sneak long drinks of whiskey in his car. The pain of seeing the girl he loved come through the door and the shame he felt as he snuck out the back door afraid to face her.

When Jack woke up to streams of sunshine coming through the front window curtains, he groaned and sat up slowly, realizing that sleeping on the couch at his age probably wasn’t the best idea. He needed to meet with the coroner to finalize plans for the funeral which was rapidly approaching in two days. He walked upstairs to his parents room and relived a painful moment when his mother was pushing him to wear a suit to the funeral. “Your father put it in his will that his son would wear the black suit that he had worn to so many weddings and funerals over the years.” The suit had been made for his grandfather and was very close to his father’s size, although most would say that it was a bit snug. Jack had no desire to wear his dad’s suit and his mom had cried when he decided to wear his black jeans and a black hoodie. “This fits my mood better, Mother. This ain’t no fashion show.” She pleaded one more time, “Jack, why can’t you just honor one of your father’s last wishes?” He just shrugged her off and headed to the car.

Jack was startled to hear a loud knock at the front door. He ran downstairs and opened the door to see a tall slender man in a nice tailored suit. He informed Jack that he was from Heartland Savings and Loan and was there to advise him that the farm had been placed in foreclosure due to non payment. His mother was six months behind. With fees and interest, Jack needed to pay 18,000 dollars within the next 14 days or the bank would be putting the farm up for a Sheriff's auction. The man showed no emotion as he placed the court notice in Jack’s hand, turned and walked quickly to his burgundy Bentley parked at the end of the drive.

As he slowly climbed the stairs, Jack felt yet another burden on his shoulders. He opened the closet in his parents’ room and saw the lone black suit. He was surprised how heavy it felt as he lifted the hanger. It was a wool suit and despite the heavy use, it was still a sharp looking suit. As he donned the jacket, he felt something under the lining of the coat on the right side, however, the pocket was empty. He reached inside the jacket to feel the lining and felt an object inside.

Using scissors, he slowly cut a slit in the lining above the object and pulled out a small black book. Upon opening it, he saw a large TO JACK on the front page. The subsequent pages gave him some advice about staying away from drink, that was ironic, and gave him some names from their family tree in case he wanted to explore his family history. Then in the middle of the book, there was a page with IMPORTANT at the top and below it were vertical numbers as such:

4

2nd

18-10-32

What the heck? Something came to mind that he hadn’t thought about in five years.

Jack ran downstairs to grab his backpack. He reached to the bottom and pulled out the letter that his father had left for him at the reading of the will. In the letter, there were three sentences that didn’t make sense to Jack when he had read them so long ago. Perhaps this book was the key to the mystery that had evaded Jack all of these years.

He read down to the third paragraph where the mystery sentences began.

The First sentence: Wooden poles so tall, Wooden poles so straight, We ran between the Wooden poles that determined our afternoon fate.

The second sentence: The lava was so hot and so dangerous. We jumped from island to island laughing as we saved our toes.

The third sentence: The loft was fun, the stables were stinky, but the grain bin led to liquor a plenty.

Jack had pondered over these sentences in a drunken stupor as he rode the train home to Chicago and had quickly forgotten them as he went back to life as usual. Now these words took on new meaning. His father was trying to tell him something. Jack thought back to happier times when he was a kid and his father would play with him on Saturday afternoons.

Wooden Poles? He thought back to a bet that he and his father would make. They had to race down the lane and swerve in and out of the four telephone poles. The first one to reach the fourth pole was the winner and they got to pick which fishing lake for the day. So, does the 4th pole have significance? Lava? Islands? An image of him and his father pretending that the living room floor was hot lava and leaping from couch to loveseat to chair to footstool. The second “island” was the loveseat. What mystery did it hold?

Jack grabbed a shovel from the back porch and headed out to the fourth telephone pole from the house. He dug around the base with no luck. Then he noticed some long scarring on one side and some deep cuts in the wood. He used his pocket knife to dig deeper into the most prominent cut and as he flicked away pieces of wood, he saw a tiny sliver of shiny metal. After several minutes of picking away at the wood, he was able to pull a metal key from the pole. Mystery one solved! Now on to the loveseat.

First he removed all of the pillows and then he began reaching down into the crevices and creases of the couch. He flipped the couch over and looked underneath. Nothing. Then he decided that if his dad was going to hide a book in the lining of a coat, then he would probably hide something in the filling of the couch. So he started cutting into the couch cover and pulling out cotton. After creating quite a pile of stuffing, he decided to cut into the middle pillow and when he cut the button loose in the middle of the pillow, it popped off and a key was dangling from the end of the button. Mystery two solved!

With mounting anticipation, Jack carried the two keys out to the barn and turned on the sole light bulb near the grain bin. He spent hours sweeping old moldy grain out the door and then began a board by board inspection. He noticed a loose plank in the floor near the back wall, grabbed a crowbar and pried the plank until it cracked. As pieces of wood flew, a hidden door with two locks was revealed. Jack’s hand was shaking as he opened the first lock and then the second. He propped open the door and saw a huge metal box with a combination lock. Jack eagerly spun the combo from the little black book and the lock popped open to reveal 20 jars of moonshine whiskey. Jack smiled and realized that his dad was calling him home. “Come and have a drink with me Jack!” So Jack did. Jack lost track of time as he joined his father in drink after drink. Jack was finally home.

The firefighters found Jack’s body two days later and they shook their heads when they discovered what Jack had missed. The twenty gold doubloons carefully waxed to the underside of each Mason jar lid. Each valued at a thousand dollars.