Curiousity had peaked in Cole’s frame of mind. He couldn’t stand it anymore, He had to find it. He had to find his grandfather’s treasure. The notebook he found last Sunday in his grandfather’s storage locker talked about it. Old letters filled the small book of stories of advertures and secrets. Secrets that Cole could not believe to be true. His grandfather had been an explorer that found the treasure of Oak Hill. The island where they said had a trove of dubloons or even possibly Mayan gold stolen by Spain. His grandfather, the man that was irratic with mood sweings working in his small pitiful garden that never grew much anything. He remembered studing those dirty large hands, callaossed, nails dark with caked onsoil embedded in the rims. Cole stared at the wallpaper in the kitchen in his grandparent’s home. They both were gone now. Together in car accident that took their lives last month. It was his job to clean out the house for his mother who worked night and day to provide for him and his younger sister.
His thoughts drifted back to his memories of his grandfather. Sitting beside him on the back porch talking about what Cole’s was doing wrong and how needed to fix it. He was always so rough and didn’t trust anyone. Cole couldn’t believe his grandmother who was so sweet and loved him to stay through all those years with that grumpy old gruff. He was not a loving man in any way. He would always order everyone about. He made Cole do so many odd jobs when he had to stay with them over the summer. He hated summers because of it. The strange thing with all the cutting of trees, fixing the house, dregging the ditch, or whatever his sadistic grandfather told him to do, he would not let Cole near the garden. He always said he didn’t want anyone to mess with his plants.
Cole stood up and looked out across the yard through the window. Weeds had pilled up already on that plot of ground of the forbidden garden. Cole’s eyes shot up and thought to himself. Maybe grandfather had something hidden there.