True Colors

“Isn’t it the most gorgeous color you’ve ever seen?” Daisy grinned as she stepped back to eye the newly-painted pale yellow wall more carefully. Her husband, Walter, came to stand beside her and slipped an arm around her waist. She rested her head on his broad shoulder. 

“What do you think we’ll have? A boy or a girl?” Walter asked wistfully, his lively hazel eyes shining with excitement. 

“Oh I hope it’s a boy. He could help you with the farming when he’s old enough.” 

Walter beamed at the idea. “Or he could be my apprentice once I get that veterinarian degree.” 

Daisy’s bright smile faded slightly as she answered, “Perhaps.” 

“Don’t worry, love. After this season, I’ll finish my schooling and we’ll have everything that we’ve ever wished for,” Walter soothed as he turned towards his wife.

“It doesn’t matter if you get your degree or not. I just want you to be here,” Daisy muttered, her thin fingers playing with the edges of his collar. 

Walter stroked her wavy dirty blonde hair. “I know, Daisy,” he sighed. “I know. It’s hard for me too. But at least I know you’ll be safer here than in Missouri.” 

“If Missouri’s that dangerous, then you shouldn’t be going there yourself!” Daisy whispered fervently, as if the swaying willows outside would hear their conversation if she spoke too loud. “Plus, with the baby coming and all--” 

Walter softly kissed her freckled nose, calming her concerns. “Don’t worry, love. It will all work out. Plus, I’m not leaving until next month! Now, Daisy, I think there’s some ice-cold lemonade in the cellar that we haven’t cracked into yet. Let’s go celebrate the beginning of spring, shall we?” he said with a sly grin. 

Daisy laughed and the two of them danced and swayed around the room while Walter hummed softly in her ear. Her pale blue skirts swished and swayed against his slate gray trousers. 

“Daisy Delmer Jenkins, you know I love you,” he sang softly as the floorboards creaked beneath them and the sunshine faded behind the western mountains. “Daisy, Daisy Jenkins. Daisy...” 

“Jenkins? Sister Jenkins, wake up!” 

A rapping sound disrupted her dream and Daisy’s head popped up off the desk. Her pale cheek had bright red marks from where it had rested on her hand. She rubbed her swollen eyes, trying to vainly erase the dark circles that were formed beneath them. 

“Daisy, please stop acting like a child and sleeping during sunday school! You’re a grown woman and you should know better.” The sunday school teacher, Sister Barth, was standing over Daisy with a long ruler resting in her hands and a stern expression disfiguring her normally gentle-looking face. After Sister Barth felt that Daisy had been sufficiently reprimanded, she proceeded to the center of the room where she resumed teaching the lesson. 

“Why do I even try? Why do I even try to pretend everything is normal when it’s not?” Daisy’s thoughts became venomous as she rubbed her palms against her eyelids. Her dirty blonde hair was tangled and matted and her dull blue eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep. Nothing had been the same after that macabre night in December. 

“We must trust in our God and surrender our will to His, for that is how we will all reach salvation,” Sister Barth continued. The room was filled with couples sitting on the motley assortment of chairs and benches. During the week, the room was used as a school for the children in town, but each Sunday, the adults would gather for a very long and very dull sunday school, usually taught by long-winded Sister Esther Barth. 

Sunshine streamed through the window at Daisy’s left side and it warmed her skin. It was early April and the air was still chilly in the morning, but by mid-afternoon, it would warm to about the mid-70s. Bright green shoots of corn were already sprouting up from the ground, reaching their stems up to touch the deep blue sky. Daisy noticed the growing springtime fever as all the animals collectively decided to bring forth new calves and chicks and lambs and piglets into this seemingly perfect world. 

All of it reminded her of a different time, when her life seemed to have that same lively glow. The chiaroscuro between now and then could not have been more devastatingly different for Daisy. Sister Barth abruptly changed her tone and turned her face so that it seemed as if she were speaking directly to Daisy. 

“What seems to be the problem now?” she asked grumpily. 

Daisy straightened her back as best she could. “Pardon?” Only then did she hear the shouts coming from outside the window. 

The congregation gathered behind Daisy, blocking her escape, as they all strained to see out the small glass window. 

“Looks like an angry mob!”

“What are they doing?”

“How big is it?”

“Move over and let me see!”

“Goodness, are they coming here?” 

“Excuse me,” Daisy shot up from her chair as if she had been bitten by a rattlesnake and tried to push her way through the crowd. “Excuse me!” As soon as she broke through the barrier of people, she snatched her shawl from the coat rack and practically fled out the door. Her boots clunked against the ground as she ran with every ounce of energy that she had left. Soon, her gray skirt was covered with mud and grime but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Farther, farther, farther. Faster, faster, faster. They killed him. They killed him and now they are going to kill me.” Daisy’s legs burned and her breath came out in gasps. A little frame house was directly in front of her, standing on a hill and completely isolated. Unlike the other homes, it had no animals or orchards or even a small garden. There were remnants of a shed, but the ivy had broken it down after it had been neglected. Daisy almost tripped on a loose brick as she stumbled up the steps leading to the peeling front door. She grasped the brass handle and swung the door open, collapsing inside after locking the door tightly behind her. Sobs racked her body as she cradled her knees close to her chest. 

The flashbacks soon started and with her energy depleted, she couldn’t fight them off. 

Shouting. Screaming. Mobs. The biting cold chill of December. Watching the black tar ooze over his flesh. His screams mingling with hers. Then the beating. Blood. The baby. Gone. Everything gone. She had insisted on coming to Missouri with him. The pain she had felt before when he had gone had been unbearable, or so she had thought. Now, her pain was even worse than death. 

Her lips felt heavy as she whispered through the intense trembling. “Please,” she sobbed. “If You love me, let me die. Let me die!” Her tremors continued for what seemed like hours and her sobs made her voice hoarse. Her depression finally grasped her and dragged her down into the depths of a restless sleep.

Daisy woke to the raindrops pounding against her tin roof. She was curled next to the door, her face and clothes smeared with mud. The clouds obscured her sense of time, but she guessed it was evening. With a grunt, she clung to the brass doorknob and pulled herself off the hard wooden floor. Her back ached from the uncomfortable position and her legs were sore from running. 

Thunder crackled outside and the wind pushed against the glass panes of the windows, daring them to remain in-tact during the storm. Daisy stumbled through the thin hallway that ran through the middle of her house. A rickety trapdoor was set in the middle of the floor in the kitchen at the end of the hallway and Daisy pulled on the rope to open it. She then descended down the rickety stairs towards the cold, dank cellar. A bed lay in one corner of the dirt room and on the other side were the remnants of a moth-eaten potato sack. Daisy lifted the sack with two fingers, then let it fall limply towards the ground. 

Her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. Daisy had planned on stopping by the grocer’s after sunday school, but her plans had been unexpectedly disrupted. After climbing back up the rickety stairs, Daisy searched for a thick shawl to cover her thin shoulders. The rain hadn’t ceased in it’s relentless downpour and she hoped that the sludge wouldn’t ruin her boots. 

After listening through the door for several moments, Daisy decided it was safe to venture out. She couldn’t let herself starve. It wasn’t in her nature. Even though every day was another reopening of her wounds, she wouldn’t let it kill her. It would never heal, but she would have to live on. Daisy clutched her shawl with one hand and shielded her eyes against the heavy drops of water with her other. The general store was only a quarter mile walk from her home, but in the rain, it seemed an eternity away. Sheet after sheet pelted her skirts, drenching the wool until it stuck to Daisy’s unbelievably thin legs. Her boots squelched with every step, water gushing out of the holes and the mud and gravel seeping in. 

Daisy’s head jerked up as she heard more shouts. Her wild bloodshot eyes searched the terrain before her but all she could see were gray outlines against an even grayer sky. 

“No torches. Good.” 

She discovered the source of the shouts as she rounded the next bend. Her eyes hazy from the downpour, Daisy could barely make out a small log cabin in the middle of a piece of land that could barely pass as a yard. There were old abandoned farm pieces strewn about in the mud, rusting from age and succumbing to the force of gravity. Random pieces of dirtied furniture had also been haphazardly shoved out of the house and two people were arguing underneath the strained awning of the porch. 

Daisy stopped in surprise as one of the figures roughly flung out a beaten-up metal cage with some kind of animal flopping around inside. She flinched as the animal let out a painful squawk as the cage splashed into the mud. The figures were yelling madly at each other now and Daisy caught bits of their conversation. 

“... dumb bird!.... Will kill us all!... I don’t care what your dead father said! He’s dead!... leave the bird or you’re not coming inside! Hopefully it’ll die if we’re careful not to touch it!” The voice sounded feminine and furious.

One of the figures, the woman, stormed into the house, slamming the door. The other figure rushed up the stairs.

“Margret! Margret wait!” He yelled as he disappeared into the house. 

Daisy stared at the filthy animal as it tried to escape from the clash of the mud and rain. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Her muscles seized as memories came washing over her. 

Walter laughed as his two spaniels barked and nipped playfully at his heels. He was spinning around, holding a bouquet of wildflowers above his head. Daisy smiled as she watched him from her bedroom window. She knew why he was here and an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness loomed over her. 

“What’s that buffoon doing on my lawn?” bellowed her papa from the entry hall. Daisy rushed out of her bedroom to stop him from opening the door. 

“Papa wait!”

Her father’s stormy gray eyes held a tempest of fury as he gazed down at his only daughter. “That boy is making a fool of himself! What does he think he’s doing, trespassing on my lawn! And -- and -- those -- revolting creatures!” He managed to sputter out as his rage overwhelmed him. He pushed Daisy aside and swung open the door. 

Walter glanced up and his smile faded slightly as he saw Mr. Delmer thundering towards him. Daisy could barely hear his feeble, “Good morning, Mr. Delmer.” 

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” her papa thundered. 

Walter shifted uncomfortably and swallowed. Before she could hear his answer, Daisy’s two older brothers, Simon and Archie, rushed up to her. 

“What’s going on?” Archie asked, his deep voice echoing through the house.

“It’s that Jenkins boy harassing Pa again!” Simon exclaimed before Daisy could answer. 

“No! No stop! Simon!” Daisy screamed as her brothers pushed their way past her. They strode defiantly up towards Walter, their tall statures making Walter look like a dwarf. Daisy followed them outside, but was too frightened to get any closer. 

“You want to what?” her papa bellowed, his face turning red in fury. “You think -- you think you’re worthy enough for my daughter?” He sputtered, spit flying from his mouth. Daisy’s hand covered her mouth in horror as her beloved papa launched his foot at one of Walter’s spaniels. The kick connected and the spaniel yelped, cowering behind her owner. 

Walter’s face now matched the fury of Mr. Delmer’s. “Don’t ever touch my dogs again,” he warned, his voice a deadly whisper. 

In one split second, Alfie had pinned Walter on the ground and Simon was beating him mercilessly as Mr. Delmer stood and watched. 

“NO! STOP! Stop it! Please!” Daisy was sobbing and screaming as she watched Walter endure the pain. She latched onto Simon’s arm as he prepared to deliver another blow. “Simon, stop!” Her brother must’ve noticed the pain in Daisy’s eyes as he relaxed and signaled to Alfie to unpin Walter. All three of the Delmer men brushed off their tailored pants and cleared their throats, then retreated inside the house. 

Daisy sank down beside Walter with a sob as he gingerly tried to sit up. She gently placed a hand on his bruised cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered through the tears, stroking his pale skin with her thumb. 

He grunted, then took her hand, smiling up at her. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I could’ve stopped them,” Daisy whispered. 

“I didn’t want you to. If you had, then I would’ve been the one throwing the punches,” Walter said darkly.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Daisy brushed a piece of his hair away from one of his gashes. 

He took her hands suddenly and looked her straight in the eye. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll never let any animal suffer,” he said, agonized. 

“I -- I promise,” Daisy stuttered, momentarily fazed by the intensity in his voice. 

As Daisy stood in the seeping rain, staring at the fallen creature, Walter’s voice echoed in her mind. “You promised,” she muttered to herself. She glanced at the log cabin once, then rushed into the yard and grasped the cage with both hands. At first, the animal started squawking, but as soon as Daisy draped her only shawl over the cage, it calmed somewhat. 

The rain was even more chilling as she sprinted towards her hilltop home without her shawl on. She cradled the cage between her arms, whispering gently to the creature beneath the woolen fabric. As she neared her front door once again, she felt a glimmer of something bright inside of her. Could it really be hope? If it was, it was only the briefest of feelings, for it passed as she entered her house of shadows. 

Daisy quickly brought the cage towards the back of the house and started a quick fire. After putting a pot full of water on the stove, she uncovered the bird. It was a pathetic looking creature and Daisy felt a pang of guilt as she gazed upon it. He would’ve never let an animal suffer as long as this one had. Large patches of sickly white skin were scattered between clumps of dirtied feathers. Daisy couldn’t even tell what the colors of the feathers were. It’s beak was cracked in several places and its pupils were mere pinpricks as it took in it’s new surroundings. 

“Hello, there,” Daisy spoke gently as she unlatched the front door of the cage. “You’ve certainly been through a lot.” She sighed. “So have I. But I’ve heard that people bond over difficult circumstances. Maybe that’s the same with animals too.” She reached her hand into the cage and gently prodded at the bird’s scaly gnarled black feet. Daisy held her breath as the animal lifted one foot off and transferred it to her trembling fingers. 

“There, see. You can trust me. And I can trust you.” She fingered the broken feathers carefully. “Perhaps I can teach you how to fly and you can teach me how to heal.” 

And for the first time in months, Daisy stepped into the small room with the pale yellow wall that had once been full of unbelievable joy before it had been filled with shadows. She carried the bird and the pot of warm water with her, then commenced in cleaning every single small feather, revealing the parrot’s true colors. The feathers changed from being dark and disheveled to being bright cerulean and gold and emerald. Daisy found that more comforting than anything in the world. It gave her hope that maybe she could change too.