2: The Fruit

    Connor Andrews had lain down for a nap after a meager meal of two small sandwiches, prepared by the soft hands of his beloved. She began slicing apples for him to enjoy upon awaking. In the quiet of the moment, a familiar rattling hum at the other end of the counter gave her a start. She laughed at her own surprise and left the knife among the slices on the cutting board to pick up the phone.

    “Hello?”

    “Oh, hello,” a male voice responded. “Is… Connor Andrews there? I’m trying to get a hold of him.”

    “Yes, you’ve got the correct number, this is Karen, his wife.”
    “Oh, I see…”

    “I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment, but can I take a message?”

    “Well, I suppose… I suppose I should, though it may not matter if he’s going to be busy today. It’s… well, it’s my father.”

    “Is something wrong?” Karen became suddenly worried.

    “I should say, I don’t know if Connor will remember me, though I did meet him a few months back. My name’s Gordon Hanover…”

    “I’m sure he will, he’s got an excellent memory.” She was not sure, but she badly needed something to say to move along the conversation.

    “Oh good. Well, I mentioned my father to him at the time… that he was not in good health. He rallied, then, for a while, but last night he was suddenly taken ill again… I’m not sure how long he has and I was hoping the good pastor Andrews would visit before his time is up. I’m afraid, Miss, that my father isn’t saved.”

    “Of course we can. I’m so sorry, but we’ll do all we can. Preacher Andrews and I can come immediately. Let me grab a pen, then we’ll leave right away.”

    When the address was neatly written on the notepad Karen quickly slid the little cutting-board onto a shelf in the fridge. Then she hurried up the stairs to wake her husband.

    The stoutly-built Gordon Hanover sat by his father’s hospital bed with a deeply concerned red face and tearless eyes. The pale old man lay quietly suffering. The room was noiseless when Connor Andrews appeared, with Karen just behind him.

    Hanover the elder smiled weakly at them as Gordon rose from his seat to shake the preacher’s hand.

    “Thank you for coming, sir, it means everything to me. I’m afraid my father may not be so appreciative, though.”

    “Nonsense, Gordon,” the old man commented with exasperation. He turned to the Andrews’. “I do thank you for the visit, as it seems my good son here has run out of topics to speak of, haha.” His low chuckle was cut short by a sudden tremulous cough. He waved an apology as he slowly regained control.

    “Your son is concerned for your soul,” Connor began gently. “He wants only the best for you.”

    With the cough managed, Hanover put a straw to his thin lips and drank a slow sip of water.

    “If anyone wants what is really best for me…” he paused. “If anyone wants what is really best for me, then don’t pray for my soul. Pray for my body. Then you may have more time to convince my soul.” The man’s good son groaned.

    “What is it, Gordy?” the father laid a hand on his son’s sleeve. “Don’t you believe your god can save my body? Well, haha, maybe you would feel the same hopelessness for my soul if you could only see the state of that, as you do see my body.”

    “Pastor Andrews,” Gordon pleaded, “please say something to help him understand.”

    Leaving his wife at the door and kneeling at the bedside, like an obedient child (she thought), Connor looked into the dying man’s eyes.

    “You are right,” he said.

    “You’re right… You’re absolutely right… Please Mr. Hanover, please let me pray for your body, that God Almighty might heal you body and soul.”

    The dying man’s eyes wandered over to Karen’s attractive face, but she was gazing in meditation at the floor.

    “Holy Father,” Andrews’ melodious voice began, “let Your healing hand touch this poor man’s ailing body. In this age of such incredible medicine we all-too-often forget to seek treatment from the One Who gave us all of it. Yet even in the midst of never-before-seen technology a day comes for all of us when it will fail, when our undeniable weakness is exposed once again. We ask, Lord, for health on this good man, and patience for his good son. And we believe, Lord, in Your healing power. We believe, Lord, and help us overcome our unbelief. Let Your will be done, God, to save this man’s body, and also to save his soul. I pray these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

    “Amen,” echoed two voices.

    Connor opened his eyes and could see that the old man had never closed his, the pale blue irises looked resolutely at the hospital wall. His breath was shallow, his hands were still. After a moment of silence another cough erupted painfully in old Hanover’s lungs. When he became calm again, with a grimace of pain on his ashen face, Connor drew a deep breath.

    “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?” The man’s eyes were clenched shut now, and he kept his twisted mouth tightly sealed and shook his head shortly and violently.

    “If there is anything I might do, to comfort your body or your soul, I’m leaving a card. You or your son can contact me at any hour. Don’t hesitate for any reason.” Connor Andrews rose from his chair.

    “If you could, you might advance medicine 50 years to give me a softer passing,” old Hanover finally called out bitterly, before they exited. “Or you might rewind medicine 50 years to allow me a simple and quick death before I ever came to such a miserable state. My superstitious friend, we live in an age of slow, wretchedly painful death. If any god exists, then at the present time he has become only a torturer.”

    Karen pulled at Connor’s coat sleeve, silently urging him towards the door, but he gently unwound her hand.

    “All you can think of is how you’ll die,” he softly replied. “But perhaps God is conducting painful surgery because He intends for you to live. I can see from your thoughtfulness, and from your son’s thoughtfulness, that you’ve passed through many painful times in the past to bring you this far, and no doubt each of them felt unbearable. But there always was a purpose for those who would seek it.”

    Once again old Hanover’s eyes were shut and his lips frozen in time. The distraught Gordon followed them out the door, and just before closing it behind them they heard a quiet voice, “There is no purpose. There is no god.”

    Karen gently embraced the good son and Connor shook his hand. “I think we should have dinner, Gordon. Are you available?” Gordon hesitantly assented. They parted in sympathetic smiles when a time and place had been set.

    Once home, Karen began mechanically doing dishes. Connor looked into the fridge and saw the apple slices, the flesh of the fruit had browned slightly from exposure. Absent-mindedly he pulled out a slice and put it into his mouth. He chewed carefully and the sweetness of the juice brightened his eyes. He closed the refrigerator door and slowly went to the living room to sit down. He faced the window and gazed out at a well-cultivated garden.

    The dishes done, Karen walked out of the kitchen and sat down gracefully on the bench beside the window, and her eyes also danced among the flowers. They shone brightly in their last bud before the arrival of winter.

    Her husband’s eyes moved from the window to her willowy figure, and he smiled. “Will you bring me the rest of that apple in the fridge?”

    “Oh, I threw it out. It was going bad. But I’ll cut up another for you.” She began to rise.

    “No, don’t, Love. Don’t move.” He stood up from his chair and came over to rest on the other side of the window bench. He took hold of her hands and she smiled softly.

    “Your garden is so attractive this time of year. It’s like our little Eden.”

    She hummed in agreement and quickly developed a knowingly playful smirk. “But this is the Fall, and soon the garden will be dead…  Perhaps it’s best after all that I don’t bring you any apples.” They laughed together.

    Gordon Hanover fidgeted with his silverware throughout the meal. Karen looked constantly worried, especially when he involved the knife in his twirling and fumbling exercises, but Connor never seemed to notice. The food arrived, and they all ate slowly and spoke seldom.

    “I’m sorry to have been such trouble to you, Pastor,” Gordon finally offered. “I know you don’t know me, I’ve never been a steady church-goer, wouldn’t even say I’m religious at all, and I don’t know what I thought you could do for him. I just… I didn’t know anything else that could be done.”

    “Oh, no, don’t be sorry,” Connor replied. “And if you please, you needn’t call me pastor, I’m only a preacher, and I’d be happy if just call my Connor.”

    Karen assented, “You did exactly the right thing. This is what God has placed us here to do. Don’t be sorry for reaching out to us.”

    “Yes, we don’t know what God’s plans for your father are. Don’t despair about him.”

    Gordon took the lemon from his tea and absent-mindedly he put it to his lips, but after tasting it he grimaced at the sourness and put it down.

    “I know so little about anything to do with the church, don’t I?” He said at last, almost in a whisper. “I don’t even know how to address you. It’s not only my father I’m worried about…”

    “Gordon,” Connor said, “the fact that you’re here talking to us is enough to show where your heart is. You’ll only need to stop worrying about yourself if you stop reaching out towards life.”

    “No!” Gordon interrupted urgently, raising his voice, “No, that’s not what I mean. It’s not just my father, and it’s not just me… It’s my son, Jason.” His voice began to tremble. “At least… at least I know that my father’s lack of faith is not my fault, and… at least I know that in my own life I will suffer for my sins, but… But please, dear God, don’t let me see my son lost… His damnation will be largely my fault, and there’s nothing I can do to take the blame for it, to take the punishment away from him, to place it where it rightly belongs.” Tears began to roll down his face.

    Karen laid her hand upon his, and Connor closed his eyes. Even in the dark corner of the restaurant, a few annoyed glances fired around them, but Connor was oblivious to it. The looks hit Karen like bullet-fire but she tried to ignore them. Gordon had a hand over his eyes.

    Suddenly Connor awoke, so it seemed. He opened his eyes and yawned and smiled. He placed a hand upon his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t be distraught, my friend,” he said lightly. “Don’t be downcast. I have prayed to God, and God has shown me the way. I will see your son, and speak to him, and God has shown me that He will grant me success.” Karen looked at him from the corner of her eyes, almost doubtfully.

    Gordon composed himself and looked at the lemon on his plate. “How can you be sure?”

    “I can’t be sure,” Connor replied. “I can only relay the message that I’ve been given. I’ll see your son, and I’ll show him the light. I know, just here and now I make it sound so simple, I know that it’s not, but… I just know what I’ve been shown. Believe with me, Gordon. Believe in the power of the Almighty God.”

    For Karen and Gordon the meal progressed in much the same gravity, but Connor looked around like a child. He even ordered a bit of dessert since he had finished his meal so soon before the others. The small cup of ice-cream arrived with a cherry on top which he plucked off and discarded beside his plate. Even his wife of eight years was shocked at his behavior, though she tried to hide her feelings. Gordon’s mood improved unexpectedly, and in conversation he eventually forgot the worry that consumed him.

    Stepping outside, he breathed deeply and looked up at the moon, it shone red upon the horizon like a bright pomegranate. The preacher was speaking quickly, a garble until Gordon’s ears focused in.

    “This week I was to attend the Fall Men’s Retreat, but this is far more important,” Andrews was saying. “Far more important. Erickson will be happy to take on my duties, I know, as the good servant of God that he always is.”
    Karen’s shock turned apoplectic. “Connor! Will you really break that trust? So many are counting on you.” It was the first time she had ever questioned him like this in front of a third party, but he seemed not to notice the impropriety.

    “My dear, my love, God has shown me the way, and who am I to deny Him?” He turned to Gordon. “I’m going to see your son right away,” he said. “Where is he?”

    His enthusiasm was catching, and Gordon couldn’t believe his ears. “Well, at the moment he’s hidden away in a small town. It’s called Sycamore, but… but sir, he won’t listen to you. It’s hundreds of miles west of here, and I wouldn’t have you go all that way for nothing.”

    “God has shown me that I’ll have success, so I’m willing to let Him be the judge of what’s nothing and what’s worthy. Rejoice with me, friend. Tomorrow morning I’ll be on my way and by the end of this week, God will be praised by a new man!”

    At parting, only Karen maintained a spirit of gravity. She strongly disapproved of her husband shuffling off his church duties. Still, it was her duty to support his final decision.

    Once home, Connor reached into the fridge and returned to the living room with a cluster of grapes. Karen saw him and puffed with fury. “Haven’t you had enough?” she said.

    “I can’t imagine where this appetite comes from,” he replied laughingly. “Forgive me, Dear, I’ll be up to bed in a few minutes.”

    Exhausted, Karen absent-mindedly undressed in the darkness. Then she climbed into the cold sheets, shivering, and closed her eyes.