The Cherry Blossom Tree

Cherry Chapter Six

It had been a week since I’d seen Gryphon, and I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved.  I’d left him to his double date and scoured the festival for signs of Mom and Annabel.  I found them talking to an older couple who introduced themselves as Celeste and George Scott, our landlords and Gryphon’s parents.

One look at my face and Mom started making excuses so we could leave.  It looked like I’d have to work on my fake smiles where she was concerned.  I didn’t tell her what had happened, and after asking once she didn’t pry.  Even Annabel, for all of her nosiness didn’t ask any questions.

Since the festival I’d been dividing my time between unpacking and cleaning the house, and exploring my surroundings.  Two miles behind the old Victorian house was a creek I’d nearly fallen into, it was so hidden by the tall grass.  To the left was nothing but paddock after paddock. 

I lost count of how many I trudged through, but one detail did stick out: there was no livestock, other houses, or even a barn. Not a cow in sight as I walked for three and a half hours before heading back the way I’d come.

My second day of exploration yielded something intriguing.  Four miles down the road from our house and across a northern paddock was a single cherry blossom tree.  It looked older than time itself and wasn’t in bloom, but I could immediately tell what it was.  The blossoms had been my favourite flower since I was six and we’d taken a family vacation to Japan.

What one of these was doing out in the middle-of-nowhere Montana was beyond me.  I wondered if the weather was suitable for it, and whether or not it would bloom when the time came.  Currently the tree was nothing but bare, scraggly branches with a thick twisting trunk.

I found myself visiting the old tree day after day, packing a blanket, a small lunch and taking a couple of books with me.  The sunlight and fresh air was as soothing as it was invigorating, and the four mile walk each way made me feel a little less guilty about the amount of Cheetos I’d been consuming since arriving in Montana.

My phone beeped from my jeans pocket as I lay on my back under the tree, my copy of The Three Musketeers held high over my face to shield it from the sun.  I was working my way through the never ending list of Penguin classics, and had already pre ordered another ten books from the list due to arrive sometime next week.  In the meantime I was forced to re-read the stories I already owned.

Dropping the book next to my head, I dug my phone out to check it.  Another great thing abut this spot was that it got a perfect signal, meaning I could check my emails, send text messages to all of the friends I no longer had, and delete the ones my father’s lawyer kept sending in a bid to get me to return to Manhattan.

Apparently my presence was required for moral support.  I let out a derisive snort.  Yeah, right.  Dad was behind bars pending his trial because he couldn’t make his three million dollar bail.  The government had seized all of our assets and was selling them off piece by piece which meant I didn’t have a house to stay in even if I wanted to go back. So what, he expected me to sleep in the cell next to his?

He may have decided he needed me, but he should have thought about that before he went and ruined our lives.  Funny, the lying and stealing I could have eventually come to terms with, maybe.  It was the woman Annabel’s age he’d been having an affair with that made me sick to my stomach.  Whenever I thought about that, a hard resolve settled in my gut and I wished he got every punishment he deserved.