Chapter 1 "One Great Love"

Gabe meets Toby. The story of his farm begins.

Preface

Somewhere between life and death, between spring and autumn… one summer, on my farm for the lonely hearted, I wrote a letter to five complete strangers so they could be healed by my angel.  I didn’t think they would come to my farm, but each one did.  They came looking to be forgiven for their sins�"all because of my simple letter…

 

 “You don’t know me, but I was told to contact you.  I promised a mutual friend.  So I am upholding my promise and obligation.  I was told by our friend that you need to come to my farm and stay with us for a while.  I’m not sure how long you need to stay, but our friend believes it will give you the guidance and direction you need right now.  He says you need help and this is a good place to get back on your feet. We have a bed for you and some food. You can stay here as long as you need.  My farm is located about ten miles northeast of a small town called Holy Cross in Iowa.  It’s a pretty place. I hope to meet you soon. Your friend, Gabriel MacGregor.”

 

I got a chance to tell my story about that magical summer when a young man, Toby Harris, searched for his calling to follow God.  So I told him, and all the others who chose to listen that night, the humble words of a lonely farmer.  I told them exactly what happened during that tender and romantic summer on my farm. It was the same night the wrath of God unleashed a deadly virus on the world.

Chapter 1

“One Great Love”

 

 

Gabriel MacGregor felt great pride with just concluding the last section of his dissertation. Now it was official, at least in his mind.  He was a professor.  The little ABD acronym (all but dissertation) on the tail of his title could be abandoned.  He finished writing his masterpiece, “One Great Love.”  A story about how love, souls, and faith are intertwined. It was his intellectual reasoning of the power an angel held over a lonely farmer.  A story that originated from one summer on his farm, where he met several extraordinary people who touched his spirit. It was a journal of his personal life. 

Another morning on the campus�"a day just like the one before, early May in Iowa City.  A typical Iowa morning, sunny, bright, yet cool and not too humid. Spring was approaching and Gabriel (Gabe as his mother called him) appreciated the promise of another awakening season.  He breathed the fresh clean air.  He could smell the early spring blossoms.  Everything was soft and pure… innocent, typical of Iowa.

Gabe threw his leather saddle bag across his shoulder and proceeded to the urban campus.  It was a short walk, less than thirty minutes.  He felt fortunate.  The coffee house was on his way to the university campus.  Gabe thought he deserved to indulge in something different today.  He felt entitled to celebrate his masterpiece. He deserved a triple shot breve with rich heavy cream.  He patted his bag, confident his manuscript was tucked safely within.  It contained over 493 pages of his life’s ambition.  Each page was a reason to indulge.

He arrived at the coffee house in short time. Perhaps he was walking quicker than usual�"content with completing a quest that consumed the past eight years of his life.  The coffee house was brimming.  It was a nice spring day and everyone was in the mood for caffeine.  He stood in line and watched the chaos. He witnessed a wide assortment of consumers order, pay, receive, and leave.  He looked at each eager face�"young college students, professors, and business people impatiently waiting. He paid attention to the people who stood out to him.  Like the business woman who was watching the news about the latest virus update.  The reporter diligently noted the latest statistics and the medical warnings about the new flu. She appeared to be concerned about the viral outbreak.  She scratched her chest subconsciously.   

He noticed how an old black woman was yelling at her grandson regarding his sloppy table manners.  He saw the pretty red haired coffee attendant flirt with her blond boyfriend, probably a local football hero.  He looked pretty competitive and jealous.  Gabe considered her off limits. He saw how the middle-aged, balding man budged in front of everyone else, because he was in a hurry.  Gabe smiled coyly.  The folly of chaos amused him, how eager all the people in line were to consume the black drug. 

The people in the coffee house made him wonder what his life would have been like if he went directly to college at eighteen or nineteen, rather than waiting like he did.  He felt so much older that what he imagined he should be.  Where did the time go? Regardless of his age or time spent, he found a modicum of solace in the wisdom he accrued in the relatively short period of time.

The line moved quickly and Gabe remained patient.  He had time.  It seemed he had an abundance of time now.  His last assignment, the manuscript, was complete.  The young red haired girl at the counter was friendly and kind.  She reminded him of someone familiar.  She seemed to flirt with him as he ordered his indulgent espresso drink.  She was not as loyal as he initially thought.

“A pretty serious drink,” she winked at Gabe.  Her freckles crinkled on her face as she grinned.

“I’m a pretty serious kind of guy,” Gabe jested as he paid her what the menu board advertised.  He raised his eyebrows and flashed a sly smile, exposing his magic dimples.  They were magnets to young girls.

“I guess so,” the attendant noted.  She debated about writing her phone number on his receipt. 

Gabe moved to the pick-up lane to wait for his order.  He surveyed the shop, but kept one eye on the attendant.  She kept flashing him interested glances framed by a delightful smile.  He kept his dimples active and alert, just in case he felt inclined to return later and further test her loyalty to the athletic boyfriend. 

“Triple shot breve�"short! Breve!” a young man with a beard and tattoo cried out from behind the espresso bar.  Gabe pushed past a couple of young girls chatting about a quiz in an Introduction to World Religions class.  One girl sneezed.  She wiped her hand on her jeans. He excused himself as he reached for the short paper cup. He turned about in line and sipped his reward.  It was rich and bitter�"perfect.  It was a divine prize for completing his last essay.  His long and arduous career as a student of life was over.  He stopped for a moment to enjoy another sip. As he took his second shot at the drink, he glanced out the window of the coffee shop. 

Gabe dropped his cup. It fell to the floor.  The espresso and cream oozed slowly through the lid.  He didn’t notice the cup was missing.  His eyes were transfixed on a frightening and familiar image outside the coffee house. 

The flirtatious red haired attendant seized the opportunity.  She abandoned her station at the register and flew to him with a stack of napkins.  Gabe was still mesmerized by his vision.  He only recoiled slightly as she mopped the coffee from the floor around his brown leather boots. 

Finally, Gabe awakened from his trance.  He realized his feet were being cleaned by the attendant.  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.”  He took some napkins from the “to-go” station and blotted the rest of the breve from the floor.

“It’s ok, it happens every morning.  Some one always spills.  Don’t let it bother you. It can still be a good day… if you let it.” The red-haired girl smiled as she looked at him. She was reassuring. 

“I guess I was distracted. I must have lost control,” Gabe apologized profusely and sincerely.   

“Would you like another one?”

“Another what?” It took him a moment to understand the attendant was offering him a replacement beverage. “No… no… that’s not necessary.”

“It will just take a minute.  Why rush?  You have time, don’t you?” the attendant refused to accept his faulty decline.  “Bruno! We have a bleeder. Need another triple shot breve. Stat!” she yelled to the tattooed barrista.  Gabe dumped the soiled napkins in the trash. 

“Do you carry insurance, because if you’re this prone to accidents… you may want some additional protection.” The girl smirked at her joke.  “What did you see?” She was hoping maybe she was the subject of Gabe’s momentary loss of coordination.

Gabe glanced out the coffee house window, searching for the real cause of his disorientation. “I thought I saw something, but…” He shook his head and raised one eyebrow.  He glanced at the attendant again, and flashed his “I-really-got-to-go” smile, “Thanks again, can I pay you?”

“On the house… I told you it happens every morning, standard service around here. We treat all casualties the same.” 

Bruno yelled from the counter, indicating Gabe’s second chance was available. He picked up his cup carefully, holding it tight enough to burn his hands.  He tilted it toward the red-haired girl, “Thanks, I promise to pay attention this time.”  The attendant winked as she returned to the throngs of impatient caffeine junkies, restlessly waiting to place their orders. 

Gabe proceeded out the door of the coffee house quickly.  He wanted to know if it was real or was it just his imagination.  He turned to his left, nothing but people and bicycles parked under a canopy of awnings.  He turned to his right. Yes, yes… it was still there. 

He approached two young women talking on the street.  One woman, a short blonde, was on her bike temporarily parked next to a table.  The second girl, a brunette, was sitting at the café table, enjoying her coffee and a croissant.  They were both pretty girls, probably seniors. Both had medium hair, casual attire and athletic figures.  The blond had a leash tied around the table.  A large silver dog, an impressive male, clung obediently to her side. 

            Gabe approached the two young women. Deep within, he wanted to run to the dog, but such a thing could be considered rude.  His mother always taught him not to be rude… be patient. He decided it was best to act nonchalant and reserved.  Maybe he could charm them, just to get close to the dog.  Just to see its eyes again.  He had to make sure.  

Gabe strode casually up to the two women.  He arched his back slightly to make his broad shoulders seem broader.  He straightened his posture, to take full advantage of his tall and masculine height.  He quickly ran his fingers through his golden brown hair and tousled his locks to refresh his appearance. He smiled wide, parting his full lips to show his chipped tooth.  It was an imperfect smile and it made him adorable and approachable, friendly.  His dimples stalked the two women. They didn’t have a chance.

            Gabe sauntered past the both of them, and then stopped abruptly.  “Wow… nice dog,” he exclaimed as he turned his attention to the young blond.  He flexed his heavy eyebrows and gave her his best flirtatious grin.  She was drawn to his golden brown eyes. She smiled, issuing a very perky, “Thanks!”

            “He’s a nice boy.  Malamute?” Gabe knew it was a malamute.  He knew the breed well.  He was merely testing its owner. 

            “Yes! Yes! He is!  Many people confuse him with a wolf or a Siberian husky.”  The girl clamored, charmed by his attention.  Once Gabe knew he invited himself in to the young girl, he moved closer to the dog, stretching his hand to its nose.  The dog laid gently by the tire of the touring bicycle, relaxed by the charismatic approach of the stranger. 

            “Do you mind if I give him a pet?  I use to have a dog just like this one when I was younger.” Gabe didn’t wait for a reply.  He knelt down to the dog, keeping his hand

steady and extended. 

“Be careful, he was trained as a watchdog,” the owner cautioned.

Gabe gently rotated his palm to catch the dog’s attention.  The silver wooly mammoth sniffed his hands and then turned its head to confront him.  The dog’s eyes were a beautiful and glistening white diamond color.  The soft eyes gave a faint hint of iceberg blue.  They were unusual, rare, and extraordinary. “Magnificent. Where did you get him?” Gabe asked unable to turn his head away from the gentle dog. 

            “Up on a farm around Marquette. It’s my parent’s dog. They’re just visiting this weekend.”  The young girl smiled as she watched her dog eagerly lick Gabe’s hands.  It was rare, she thought. The dog despised strange men; usually it barked and sneered, like a good watchdog.  She brushed her hair out of her eyes and fixed it back in a ponytail.  She winked at her friend with the latte.  It was unfortunate her flirtatious nature was ignored.

            “Oh yeah, I lived up around those parts. What’s his name?” Gabe scratched the dog behind the ears.

            “Well my dad’s name is Greg and my mom’s name is Diane.  My name is Felicity,” she introduced herself in a robust and cheering manner.

            Gabe stared at the young girl, “The name of your dog?” 

            “Luke, his name is Luke.”  The embarrassed student wrung her hands nervously, feeling as though she had lost a potential suitor.

            “Luke? I like the name,” Gabe exonerated, peering lovingly at the dog’s alert face.  “Joshua? Luke? By any other name… angel or demon?  What are you watching?  What do you see?”  Gabe stood and gave a final scratch between the dog’s pointed ears, tipped with black guard hairs.

            He looked at both young women and realized a sudden sense of awkwardness. He had to get away from it.  He knew it was an omen.  He saw the dog for a reason. “Thanks. Uh… real nice dog.  Have a good day.” Gabe stated awkwardly, trying to dodge the intentions of the young woman.  The blonde appeared upset.  Perhaps his farm boy charm was a little too heavy.  He walked away briskly with his hands in his pockets. 

It was best to escape… just walk away before it possessed him like before.  It was bad enough he was inclined to think of him�"that alone was an invitation for further thought.  He picked up his pace and before he realized it, he was almost jogging to the English and Philosophy Building at the edge of campus.  All the while, Gabe kept the accidental encounter with the dog in the forefront of his consciousness. He couldn’t resist contemplating if the same mysterious power was trapped behind those magnificent eyes. If it was truly an omen, then would the encounter be just like before or would it be different this time around?

            Gabe leapt up the stairs to the hallow halls of learning and discipline with a youthful fervor.  He slammed the doors in a pronounced fashion to the general office of the philosophy department. Mrs. Burrows, the administrative assistant to the Dean of Philosophy, was thrilled to see him.  She was a pleasant, marshmallow of a woman well in her fifties.  She spoke in a fluffy, white sugary tone, “Gabe! Gabe! I just tried to call you.” She rushed to him like a grandmother seeing a long lost grandson.  “Honey, I was calling to let you know that Dr. Drake called in sick today.  He won’t be able to meet with you. You’ll just have to reschedule�"perhaps later, when he’s not so busy and feeling more like himself.” Her pudgy hands cupped a mug of steaming tea. 

            “Can I schedule something now?” Gabe tried to shield his disappointment.

            “It’s hard to tell honey.”  Mrs. Burrows turned toward Ms. Janis, a prudish librarian-styled woman, serving as the assistant to the administrator’s assistant. “He has that nasty E3 virus that’s being going around.  He sounds absolutely dreadful. I heard he forgot to get his flu shot last week.  Poor thing. Thank goodness I drink my herbal tea�"it’s supposed to ward off the flu.” Ms. Janis looked concerned, but not overly.  She continued with opening the plethora of departmental mail.

            The E3 virus dominated the media for the past several weeks. The news, both local and national, dedicated their air time to the virulent strain, easily caught and apparently deadly.  It was connected to several thousand deaths in a variety of third world countries. Gabe recalled seeing people on campus donning light weight air masks�"just a couple of people, but it was obvious.   

            “When I met with him yesterday morning, he seemed fine.” Gabe touched the matronly figure’s shoulder in a caring way, despite how dejected he felt.

            “I know. I know.  The new flu comes on so suddenly, out of nowhere. He must have caught it when he visited the Dean of Hospital Studies the other day.”  She wrapped her palm around her mouth and whispered her secret to Gabe.  “They’re thinking about canceling the summer session because of the E3 virus.”  Mrs. Burrows was prone to gossip. 

            “Well, if you see him or hear from him today or tomorrow, could you please give him this?”  Gabe retrieved a copy of the manuscript from his saddle bag.  He handed it to Mrs. Burrows like the prize possession it was. “Maybe he can read it while recovering?” Gabe chuckled trying to console himself and the distressed assistant.

            “I’ll make sure he gets it honey.  Check back after the weekend and I’ll let you know how he’s feeling.  We can reschedule then.” 

            “Thanks,” Gabe muttered as he left the office and proceeded down the corridor to the graduate student ward.  He debated about trying to find the dog again.  He rejected the idea when he recalled he had several more papers to grade prior to the start of his class. It was the week before final exams. His Introduction to Philosophy class couldn’t be suspended for a slightly crazed dog hunt.  He navigated through a series of cubicles and tiny closet-like offices.  He arrived at his desk and tossed his bag on the chair, already frustrated with the affairs of the day:  spilled coffee, an inconvenient reminder, and now a sick professor… one unexpected delay after another.

            “Excuse me… Professor MacGregor?” Gabe’s little tantrum into the series of morning blunders was interrupted.

“Yes?” he answered, unsure whether he was willing or committed.

“My name is Toby, Toby Harris.  I’m a student of Dr. Drake’s.  I’m graduating this semester and he suggested I talk to you.” Young Toby Harris took a seat by Gabe’s desk. He was an attractive, fraternity type of guy, wearing the black and gold colors of the Iowa Hawkeyes.  His blond hair matched the gold in his t-shirt, clinging to his muscular torso.  His soft brown eyes looked almost pleading and innocent.

“Oh yeah, what does Dr. Drake think I should talk to you about?” Gabe relaxed a bit.  He enjoyed counseling younger students.  The pains of his day faded gently to the recess of his mind.

“Well, I’m graduating and I was thinking about pursuing my interest in doing the Lord’s work.  I was thinking about seminary school… either that, or go to grad school for Philosophy�"maybe medicine.  But I don’t really know what to do with my life.  Dr. Drake said you went through a similar dilemma�"so I was wondering if you had any advice for me.  You know, about which direction I should pursue?” Toby was sincere.

Gabe thought about his short and awkward desire to study religious practices.  The whole adventure seemed more like a daydream to him.  He was anxious about Toby’s potential confusion over his expertise in the matter. “I thought about becoming a minister or priest at one time, but that seems like a long time ago. I became a student to study love. So I wouldn’t say I know enough about the clergy to give you any sense of direction.”

“What changed your mind?” Toby asked, lowering his open notebook to his lap.

“You know Toby; it’s a very long and boring story. One I don’t think you really want to hear.”  Toby’s expression begged for an explanation. “I lived on a farm all my life.  God was always a constant source of attention and pride. I was drawn to wanting to know more.  That’s all.”  Gabe fought the temptation to tell him the truth, the whole story.  Could he confide in Toby? Would he really listen, or would it be a waste of precious time?

“Where was the farm?”

“Just outside of a small town called Holy Cross, over by North Buena Vista.”

“Up by Dubuque.  Yeah, yeah… I know it.  I grew up around those parts, in Dyersville.” Toby proudly displayed his perfectly manicured smiled.

“It’s a beautiful area�"where all things beautiful grow.”

“So you didn’t like seminary school or you fell away from God?” Toby inquired, keeping focused on his purpose.

“No, it’s not that I didn’t like it. I guess I discovered a different way to see God.”

“Did you have a calling?” Toby leaned forward. “Because I haven’t�"at least not yet.  I want to be a priest. I keep thinking it’s what I’m supposed to do… I just haven’t been invited by God yet.”

“Well… Toby.  Only you can decide what’s best and what you were meant to do.  It’s your path and yours alone.  I suggest you follow your heart, your faith, and your intuition.” Gabe advised as he looked at the young graduate with compassion. “A calling to the clergy is a personal thing.”

Toby was persistent with his questions.  “Do you regret not going through with becoming a pastor or a priest?  Did you prefer graduate school?”

“Yes, studying love seemed like a better fit… for me.  But again, you need to decide your own course.”  Should he tell Toby about the dog? Should he tell him about that summer on his farm? Should he confess the sins of an angel?  No, better left unsaid.

Gabe smiled and after a brief pause, concluded the conversation, “Anything else I can help you with, Toby?”

Toby shook his head, like a rejected candidate from a job interview.  He stood and thanked Gabe for his time and advice.  He bolted out of the maze of cubicles quickly, so quickly that Gabe thought maybe Toby wasn’t as sincere as he first perceived.  Maybe Toby was fulfilling a checklist of tasks prior to graduating, like many seniors were currently doing.

 Gabe spent the remainder of the morning reading and grading the dozen or so term papers from his section of Introduction to Philosophy. The assignment for his students was to write a paper about their one great love. The bulk of the papers were novice and basic.  The instructor found it slightly pathetic how many students equated the greatest love of their life to popular movies, literature or song lyrics. The students offered no explanation why the cultural icons represented their greatest experience with love�"it just was. He grew more and more disappointed with each paper he assessed. They couldn’t explain love.  They couldn’t define or describe it adequately. It was like the students had no concept of love, let alone the greatest love possible.  Each paper was more annoying than the one prior.  He was tempted to give them all F’s and offer his students a chance to redo their paper if they wanted an acceptable grade. 

It wasn’t until he read the short and concise paper by Dahlia Young, a first year student with an undeclared major, that Gabe felt a slight sensation of redemption. Dahlia was a stunning girl who carried a modest display of Downs Syndrome.  She was older than many of his other students; however, she applied herself more than any other. Dahlia wrote about her one great love, describing the male perfectly with every detail and each nuance.  She wrote about the unusual characteristics making the object of her affection different and noticeable.  She was gifted with writing and she crafted her prose carefully, leading the reader to fall in love with the subject of her paper, just like she did when they first met. 

It wasn’t until the last paragraph when Dahlia revealed her secret.  “…I decided to write about my dog, Max.  He’s been with me through the most humiliating and triumphant experiences of my life.  He never judges me. He always forgives me with a gentle nuzzle or a longing pant.  He’s waited for me to find myself and discover who I am and where I’m going.  This is the perfect love.  The one that waits for us to catch up to it. A love so patient and deserving; it is ironic, it can wait an infinity for us… if we let it.” So pure, innocent, and peaceful�"it was just like Dahlia.

Gabe gently laid the paper on his desk.  He marked an “A” across the top of it, the only essay deserving the score in the pile of would-be love stories. It was a quarter to noon�"time to get his materials together and head to class.  He moved away from his desk and rewound his way through the maze of library shelves and desks to the primary corridor.  The hallway was active with students, leaving and arriving for classes.  When Gabe arrived at his classroom, he laid the graded assignments on the desk and put his hand-written notes on the small podium.  He double checked his lecture to see where he left off. 

The students filed into the classroom and took their usual seats, scattered throughout the room. Some of them coughed or sniffled from the cold going around campus.  Gabe welcomed the class and reviewed the outline with them.  He asked if any of the students had questions about the lecture from the previous day.  No questions. 

Gabe then passed the assignments back to the twenty or so casual students.  He then scolded them by reiterating the purpose of the assignment. “Your papers… let’s just say they were pretty much what I expected the week before finals.  They were dead and boring.  I feel sorry for your girlfriends and boyfriends�"they would be offended by your testament to your one great love.  I can also understand why many of you are probably single. Let’s just say… you could do better.  I hope you can do better.”  Gabe had an annoying way of making the students feel guilty for a lack of effort.  The students appeared embarrassed by their grades, and disappointing their favorite professor. 

“Dahlia�"good job.  I enjoyed reading the honesty in your tribute. You’re right; the greatest love in our life is the one worth waiting for.” Gabe handed Dahlia Young her paper. She was a modest appearing woman.  Her glasses were too small for her puffy face, but they camouflaged her slanted eyes.  Her mousy brown hair was cut short. A black and gold sweatshirt concealed her hefty frame.  Dahlia, surprised by the complement, smiled.  Her eyes beamed and she fine-tuned her posture. Gabe offered her a brief and rewarding smile. 

“As for the rest of you… if you want to improve your grade you need to re-write your papers and really think about the greatest love possible.” Gabe conceded to his initial thought.  Maybe his class deserved a second chance, everyone deserves a second chance.  The class moaned.

“Ok… let’s talk about love.” Gabe introduced his subject material.  He quickly flew through his outline, referencing the different definitions of love, like agape and consummate.  He discussed the various theories about why we love and how we love.  He danced around the subject of sexual love, admittedly embarrassing to him and his students.  Gabe strolled around the class as he lectured and entertained questions. 

As he meandered through his notes, he couldn’t help but occasionally glance out the window of the classroom.  It was toward the end of his lecture when he saw the omen again. The dog raced through the long stretch of grounds between the English and Admissions buildings.  The stray animal roamed in the meadow among the majestic oak trees.  It was a large, silver dog�"perhaps it was the same dog he saw earlier on the street with the chatty athletic brunette. Was it stalking him?

Gabe halted his lecture.  He focused on the activity of the dog, sniffing one tree then moving to the next.  The gentle animal galloped through the meadow, periodically smelling students strolling between their classes. It was looking for something or someone.

Gabe watched the dog for a brief moment. When he continued lecturing his class about the perfect love, the dog stopped.  It stood still, appearing regal and refined despite its great size.  The dog sat in the meadow and looked through the window.

 Gabe stopped his lecture abruptly, caught off guard by the posture and expression of the dog.  It kept looking at him.  He moved closer to the window.  The dog remained fixed in his seated position, like a marble statue, perfectly content to stare through the window. 

Gabe was haunted.  He couldn’t lecture.  He ignored his students with their pens poised in mid-air awaiting the next landslide of notes.  His attention was focused on the dog.  It had to be the same one.  Suddenly he felt nauseous and weak.  His knees slightly buckled and his stomach churned.  A tickle seized his throat and he coughed several times.  He was faint and light-headed.

“Are you going to be ok?” Dahlia finally spoke up, probably encouraged by her sudden boost of confidence. 

“I’ll live,” he alleviated Dahlia’s concern.  “That should be enough for today.  Don’t forget your assignment this weekend.” Gabe dismissed his class.  Only ten more minutes were left in the lecture and he really didn’t feel like talking any further, not the way he was feeling.  He didn’t turn away from the window.  He kept looking at the watchdog. It appeared to be patiently waiting for him.

Gabe’s eyes left the animal momentarily�"the nauseous feeling subsided.  He quickly packed up his lecture notes, coughing sporadically. He hurriedly erased the chalk board and left the classroom.  His long legs enabled him to fly from the building and into the meadow. But the dog was gone�"vanished.  He surveyed the grounds, hoping he would see its curly tail or a slight shimmer of silver darting behind some shrubs in the expansive and manicured meadow. There was no trace. 

He continued his search through the campus. He saw Toby Harris coming from the library.  Toby bounded toward him, laughing with a couple of his fraternity brothers.  His arms were loaded with books.

“You looking for something?” Toby asked politely.  Perhaps he was a kind soul after all.

“Just a dog.  I swore I saw a big silver dog out here just a minute or two ago. It probably got away from his owner.” Gabe’s eyes scanned the immediate campus area.  He gave up hope when he saw Toby and his two friends looking about the meadow in vain.  He knew the dog would return for him. It was just a matter of time.

“You know Toby, if you still want to talk about your career aspirations and my experiences and decisions�"well, I’d be… honored to share my perspective.” Gabe looked at the blond school boy with his perfect complexion and angled features.  Maybe this is what the dog wanted�"an act of kindness and a moment of trust.   

“That’d be awesome.  Tonight we have a doctor/student dinner thing.  It’s kind of a tradition at the house.  Students invite their favorite teachers to the fraternity and we eat�"we do it every year, just before finals.  I asked Dr. Drake to join us, but since he’s not available�"well, maybe you could attend?  We could talk about seminary school after dinner?  You can’t turn down free food.” Toby was persistent with his invitation, just like he was with his questions in Gabe’s small cubicle. 

“Sure.” Gabe was reluctant.  He was hoping it would be over a cup of coffee.  Dinner at a fraternity house with a group of uncomfortable students and doctors didn’t sound either appealing or appetizing.  He tried to hide his feelings behind a casual smile.

“Ok, I’ll see you around six at the Alpha Beta Tau house.  You know where it is?”

“Yeah, I think so.  It’s the big white house on the corner, right?” Gabe was familiar with the terrain of the campus and adjacent properties, despite his sheltered tenure at the university.   

“Yeah, yeah… That’s the one.  See you tonight.” Toby was more informal than Gabe initially realized.  Yet, he was still comfortable and respectful in a youthful way.

Toby and his two fraternity brothers left Gabe standing in the middle of the meadow.  The search for the dog was abandoned.  He stood alone, feeling terrified.  His knees were still shaky.  The tickle in his throat was becoming raspy and raw.  He shrugged off the episode, except for the stark reminder of a fraternity get together.  What had he committed to?

The rest of Gabe’s day was meaningless, filled with calculating preliminary grades for students that couldn’t define love. The afternoon flew by with trivial duties.  It was almost six o’clock, Friday, and the campus was peaceful and quiet.  The walk to the Alpha Beta Tau fraternity house was short and uneventful. No strangers and no thoughts, save his pre-occupation with a familiar silver wolf-like dog with blue diamond eyes.  The sky was still blue and cool.  The fresh air was just the perfect prescription.  It made him feel somewhat active and healthy again. 

When Gabe ambled up the stairs to the fraternity house, a young freshman greeted him warmly at the door. He had long brown hair and a slight goatee. “I know who you are. You’re a bit late. Toby’s waiting for you in the other room. Just hang to your left.”  He motioned to the left through the open door. 

“Sorry,” Gabe responded, clearing his throat. 

The fraternity house wasn’t what Gabe expected. He envisioned a disheveled apartment complex with dirty laundry and dishes strewn about. Rather, the house was large, stately, well kept and clean�"strangely sterile.  A series of clean-cut young men constantly ran up and down the stairwell.  It was a bedlam of rambunctious energy under the guise of orderly rules and rituals.  Despite the chaos, each initiate at the house was polite and courteous, smiling freely and nodding their head in a welcoming posture.

Gabe found the dining room easily.  A long table with elegant place settings adorned the walnut paneled room.  Flowers, crystal, fine china, silverware, and cloth napkins�"Gabe suddenly felt under-dressed.  He still wore his blue denim shirt and overly tattered jeans.  His white A-frame tank top protruded between the opened buttons of his shirt.  His brown leather belt, with its massive silver buckle and his brown boots seemed far too comfortable for the ostentatious surroundings.  The room was crowded with young men and older professors.  Some he recognized by face only, others were complete strangers.

Toby caught Gabe’s eye at the distant edge of the dining room.  He politely excused himself from the conversations around the table.  He smiled at Gabe and pointed to a chair next to him.  Gabe pushed past the gathering of students and teachers.  He pulled out a chair next to Toby.  He wasn’t sure how late he really was. Maybe the walk to the fraternity was longer than Gabe anticipated. Or maybe the other professors showed up early to get the dinner out of the way, making way for their real lives, outside of the university.

Toby started with introductions at the table.  He must have been the president of the fraternity house, or held some equally dignified status.  He not only facilitated the introductions, he also led the table in a short and generic prayer.  As soon as heads were raised from the prayer, the table was a mixture of activity and conversation.  Toby offered Gabe some water.  It was not what he wanted, but he couldn’t exactly ask for a cold beer in front of the underage students. 

The dinner was quick and cleverly orchestrated to take advantage of every second�"expediting the conversation and the time dedicated to the endeavor.  It was seven o’clock when the dessert course was laid in front of each attendant.  Toby explained the dessert was peach pie, a tradition at Alpha Beta Tau.  The smell of the pie was ripe and tart.  Each slice was covered with a sliver of cheddar cheese, another tradition.  Gabe was normally a fan of peach pie, but somehow the sweaty cheddar cheese was not appetizing.  He started feeling dizzy and lightheaded.  The room began to spin, making him disoriented.  Sweat pooled around his hairline and drifted down the back of his shirt.  He suddenly became uncomfortable.  He needed air�"fast.

“Excuse me, Toby.  The dinner was delicious… I think I’ll pass on the pie. Do you have a back porch or something for a quick breath?” Gabe whispered to Toby, not wanting to draw too much attention to his sudden rage of vertigo. 

“Yeah, yeah… no problem.  Just return to the stairway and head straight out the back.” Toby guided.  He tipped his fork into the peach pie.

“Thanks Toby,” Gabe took the glass of water from the table and excused himself politely.  He proceeded back to the main stair way, it was an impressive and regal walnut staircase with spindles.  Several fraternity brothers walked down the stairs, teasing each other ruthlessly as they prepared for a Friday evening on the town. 

Gabe quickly ducked toward the back.  He thought if he could just get some fresh air, the nauseous feeling would subside.  He raced to the over-sized veranda off the main greeting hall.  It extended deep into the yard with a well groomed lawn.  A massive garage framed the property.  Gabe stood on the flagstone veranda and breathed deeply.  Exhaling and inhaling.  He still felt dizzy, but the cool glass of water in his hand and the fresh air subdued his panic. 

A small, disturbing noise rose from behind the garage.  It sounded like the clang of garbage can lids hitting the paved alley.  Gabe thought it was probably a family of rogue raccoons, looking for an early dinner. He opted to ignore it.  Rather he found a comfortable looking wooden chair on the veranda and sat in it.  He adjusted his back to fit in the chair and was content to sit in the open air, away from the gaggle of teachers and students in the dining room. 

Gabe closed his eyes, trying to control the flush of heat from his body.  He cleared his throat, trying to scrape the tickling sensation from his lungs.  When he opened his eyes, a large, silver dog sat directly in front of him.  It commanded his attention.  Gabe was momentarily confused and stunned.  Maybe his memory was overly stimulated and active.  He reached toward the dog.  He had to know whether or not it was real�"or was it his imagination.

Gabe touched its panting head.  It stood alert, letting him feel the soft velvety fur on its long and protruding nose.  The blue and white eyes shimmered in the fading sunlight. 

“What are you doing here boy?” Gabe asked the stray dog.  He continued to stroke the mane around its neck.  The animal permitted him to slide his rugged fingers through its thick undercoat of hair.  He looked for a collar or a tag, something to identify where the dog should be and who may be looking for the impressive creature.  It was bare of any identification.

“8,” Gabe murmured. Not a question but a statement.  The dog barked.  Its voice was deep and resonating. 

“Why are you here?  What am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do?”

It barked again and then a third time.  Gabe leaned forward and stroked the dog along its backside.  It barked a fourth time and then bolted away.  He stood quickly and chased it toward the back of the garage.  It was gone, long down the paved alley.  He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, it was a nervous response.  But why was he nervous? Perhaps he should have been afraid.

Gabe relinquished the dog into the dark alley, not bothering to chase it or hunt it. He knew it would be feeble to try.  He somehow understood it would eventually return. It would find him again, when the time was right.  He returned to the veranda, contemplating the symbolism of the dog�"attempting to decipher the hidden messages in its commandeering voice.

“How are you doing Professor MacGregor?  Feeling better?” It was Toby.  The blond Abercrombie & Fitch student addressed Gabe as he fell back into the wooden chair.

“Call me Gabe, would you?  Professor MacGregor is my father�"at least it was to me.” The instructor began to fish in his pocket for something. “So Toby, all the other doctors gone?

“Some of them are still in there.”

“Is now a good time to chat?  Or maybe you have plans for the evening?” Gabe referred to the other frat boys he saw leaving the house when he retired to the veranda. 

“Not really.  It’s hard to make plans when I’m not certain what direction I want to take in my life. So what do you think, you know, about becoming a priest?”

Gabe was impressed.  The young man was tenacious and dedicated. “Mind if I smoke?” He asked as he pulled his green and brown tobacco from a small baggy in his pocket.  He proceeded to dip into the bag and withdrew some heady smelling dried leaves.  He pressed the grinds into a narrow rolling paper.  When Toby didn’t respond, Gabe shot him a glance. He twisted the paper with two fingers. 

“Yeah, yeah… you can smoke,” Toby muttered keeping his eyes fixed on the finely rolled cigarette. 

“Sure?” Gabe grinned at Toby, making certain Toby was going to be comfortable.  Gabe lit the white rolled paper and inhaled deeply.  He smirked�"maybe this would get rid of the annoying tickle in his throat.  He offered the smoldering paper to Toby with a flash of his brown eyebrows.  Toby took the cigarette. He inhaled like a novice.

“Gently�"it’s not exactly filtered,” Gabe warned.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine…” Toby echoed his voice, using only an intake of air to indicate he was more familiar than what Gabe believed.

“So, Toby.  Are you sure you want to make such a big commitment?  Are you ready to give up your life to God?” Gabe nodded to Toby, indicating he could keep the cigarette.  He started rolling another.

“I think so.  I mean, I’m pretty certain.  I just haven’t had the one experience that has made me feel completely certain.  I was hoping to have a miracle or something happen to me. You know, to boost my confidence about a calling.” Toby sat on the grassy area, next to the flagstone pavers.  He made himself comfortable, folding his runner’s legs underneath.  He relied on one of his stocky, muscular arms to keep him upright.

“Like an angel or something?”

“Yeah, yeah… like seeing an angel or hearing the voice of God in my head.  Someone to say, Toby�"go do good. Go do the Lord’s work. Go help others. Go heal.” Toby continued to explore the cigarette. 

“Careful, experiences like that can be very painful.” Gabe said the words casually. He was nonchalant on purpose.  “I had my class this week write a paper about the greatest love of their life.  Is God the greatest love of your life?”

“I would say so.  But, who knows what comes in and out of our lives. God is love. So if he is love, then sure… he would always be the greatest love of my life, he is the father of love.  He is constant… right?  Would you call God the greatest love of your life�"you know?”

Gabe lit his cigarette.  He inhaled and pondered the Zen-like statement with the accompanying question. He exhaled and positioned his view, “His creations are part of the greatest loves in my life.  He controls the most precious thing to me�"time.” The answer was lost on Toby, who extended his folded legs across the grass. 

“So why didn’t you become a minister?”

“I’m a farmer.  In my heart, I know I’m a farmer. When my education is over�"once I graduate, I know I’ll still be just a farmer. It is me.” Gabe turned away from Toby.  He looked at the stars in the sky. “Ministry is not the only way to experience God.  Like I said, I have a different view of the almighty Lord.  My calling, of sorts, was not so much from God, directly.  It was during a time in my life that I felt abandoned, hurt and weak�"it was the time when I felt my greatest despair.  I was alone�"utterly lonely.”

“So you had a calling?”

“Sort of… I guess.”

Toby took his cigarette and inhaled his next question, “what was it?”

“I like to think of it as not so much of a calling, but an awakening.  It was one summer that changed me forever.  It made me finally see the world as it was�"what it could and should be.  It was the summer I discovered the meaning of life. It was the season of love�"one great and powerful love.  If that’s what you refer to as a calling, then… yes, I experienced such a thing when I was your age.”  Toby smiled, Gabe didn’t seem that much older.

 “It was a hot and sultry summer on my farm that year.  I was just twenty-one when I entertained several unexpected guests. Each guest was broken.  Each one of them was in dire need to be touched and healed by him.  He guided all of us with those magnificent blue, diamond eyes.  Yes, that was the summer of my calling.  It was the summer I was visited by an angel. And, I wonder�"to this very day�"I still wonder, was it the one great love of my life?”  

Reviews

[Virginia Night]

I found that the mystery behind the dog's eyes and the hints of angels and demons and some strange occurrence on a farm to be intriguing and catching. It held me to continue reading rather than giving up the secret instantly and losing the air of suspense. I appreciated the way the general atmosphere of a college life was integrated, the believable names of places, people, etc. It connected me to the story with the personal style of writing. It began with a little choppiness but after a while, everything flows much more smoothly. Good job: you've made a reader out of me :)