Not Too Far From the Apple Tree

 

“Don’t bother…it’s as good as dead.” He knelt down on the ground, and bending over it, he picked it up. “See, I told you!”

“Why are you so cynical?” She picked up the rose petals from the ground, and pretending to put together a puzzle, rearranged them in her hand as to resemble the way it was when it looked more alive.

He sighed, and walked away to the other end of the house. I thought I would have better luck. She blew the petals out of her hand, and watched the wind carry them away, tumbling down the sidewalk, as though heads over heels in love. She smiled.

Unable to resist the urge, she sat down, cross-legged in the front yard, under her favorite tree. She felt the surge of the energy from the earth run through her like electricity, reviving my spirit. She breathed deeply, and glanced to the sky.

“Hey, you, get your head out the clouds! Like, literally!” He laughed, and sat down next to her. He had returned sooner than I had thought. His eyes were more hazel than the green leaves that hung above her head. “It’s been a while since I’ve sat outside. Thought I would join you.” He grabbed her hand, and held it tight.

Her heart jumped for joy, as the heat from his strong yet gentle hand was felt in hers. It had been a long time since she felt so in love with him. He leaned in to kiss her.

“Gross, you guys!” The oldest teenage boy emulated a vomiting sound, and walked towards his father. “Can you give me a ride to my friend’s house? They’re getting ready to move, it’ll be the last time I see him.” The seventeen-year-old’s voice started to choke up.

“Sure.” The man stood up, and wiped the dirt from his jeans. “I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll be back.” He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, then walked to the car, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “You ready now?”

“Yeah.” The teen hopped in the passenger seat. The man waved goodbye, and blew a kiss to the girl under the apple tree.

***

“What about now?” The woman held a large box in her arms. “Can you help me now?”

He closed his laptop. “Yeah, I can help.” He stood up, and adjusting his jeans, walked outside to the front yard. He raised his hands to touch the apples on the tree. “We have some really low hanging fruit this year.” He plucked the first apple, and tossed it into the box.

“Yes, we do.” The ladder she stood on brought her to eye level with the lowest branch of the tree. “Especially for you.” She plucked her first apple, and tossed it down as well. Her apple bounced out of the box, and onto the ground next to it. “Would you please grab that for me? My aim isn’t that great, for some reason.”

“Sure will,” he replied, bending over to grab the piece of fruit.

She looked at him with warm eyes. She had spent many months wondering if he would ever come back. And now she saw, with her own two eyes, that he indeed had changed his mind about her.

“All I need is a few more to make an apple pie. I’m going to get started on that right now. Can you pick a few more for me, and bring them in when you’re done? I’d really appreciate that.”

“Not a problem.”

She walked past him, brushing him lightly with her body.

“Hey, you,” he said softly to her. He took the basket from her, and took her into his arms, squeezing her tight. His kiss made her heart flutter.

While in his embrace, she had memories of the best kiss of her life. They were standing on the edge of the sea, with seaside grass as high as the waist, and the wind as brusque as an old man set in his ways. With a quiver in his voice, he had uttered the words to her, “Will you marry me?” Without hesitating, she replied with a resounding “yes,” and he sealed the engagement with a kiss. As she sat at dinner that night, with a glass of red wine to celebrate, she looked at him, saying, “this was the best day of my life.” It had been the best thirtieth birthday she could ever have had. Hands down.

When the kiss was over, he picked up the box, and handed it to her. “How ’bout them apples?” He said with a grin on his face.

She laughed, and walked into the house, to make the apple pie.

***

“I think it’s almost done.” She eyed the dessert with concern as she peered into the oven. Her pies always had burned crusts. Hopefully she wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

The knock at the door startled her, and at the same time woke her from her daytime reverie as she meditated on the scenery of the backyard in the late summer. The grass had been mowed earlier that day, and the dog had already christened it for the day with a full-on zoom around the quarter-acre yard. Now the husky lay sideways on the back porch, defeated by the energy output earlier that day.

Opening the front door, she saw her husband with a box full of apples in his muscular arms. Sweat was pouring from his forehead, as was the case anytime he spent more than five minutes working outside.

He walked the box inside, promptly setting it down next to the dinner table. “There! We don’t have to buy fruit for two weeks…or more!” He placed his hands in his pockets, as he meandered around the living room, waiting for dinner to be ready. “Never thought I would be back here, and helping to bring fruit in from one of our trees outside.”

She took the pie out of the oven, without saying a word. She had imagined in her mind the day he would reappear. Like a prince out of a Disney story, she had envisioned him riding down the street in his beat-up Lexus, pulling into his usual spot. As she was preparing cherries for her son’s birthday pie that day, the doorbell rang loud and clear. As she opened the door, she saw him standing there, his hands in his pocket, looking somewhat distraught. “Can we talk? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, come on in.” She took off her apron, adorned with red cherries and green leaf stems, and walked to the dining room table, then paused and turned around. “Do you want any coffee?”

“Sure.” As they settled in, the dog came in and greeted himself, jumping on the man. “Hey, you, get down!” He rubbed the dog’s ears, and the dog sat down next to him, intent on enjoying this opportunity.

After she sat down, he took a sip of his black coffee, and setting it down, took both of her hands in his. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s happened between us over the past two years, and I realized this is not what I want. I want to be with you again. I’m sorry for hurting you so badly. I hope you will forgive me.” The look in his hazel eyes was repentant, and his voice was soft.

She looked at him for several seconds, then nodded. “This needs to be a fresh start. No games, no secrets, nothing like that. I want it to be different than the first time around. True companionship, true honesty. Real connection. Is this something you really want?” Her blue eyes shone brightly, as her eyebrows were raised in curiosity to his answer.

Without hesitation, he nodded, and sighed. “Yes, it is. I’ve really missed you. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until I couldn’t have you anymore. Now I know. I really did love you, and I want you back, if you will take me back.”

She stared back at him. “I’ll think about it.”

***

“How ’bout that apple pie, y’all? What do you think?”

“Mom, you’re not Southern, why do you talk like that?

She grinned back at her youngest child, who was always ready to argue with her. “I am Southern.” In a country drawl, she added, “Ya know, I’m not from around these parts.” Back in her regular voice, she asked again, “what do you all think about the apple pie?”

They all nodded in unison. The smell of cinnamon in the air made it feel like it was harvest time in mid-October. As they all sat around the table, enjoying dessert together, the man of the house chimed in. “It’s the best apple pie I’ve ever had.” He leaned back in his chair, and sighed deeply, patting his stomach.

As she looked around the table, she realized her greatest fears had never been realized. What had been a season of nightmarish quality was now a reality where her dreams became manifest. She turned to face the apple tree outside, in the front yard. The apples on the ground underneath its boughs, rotten and half-eaten, sat there in a decaying state, brown, with their cores exposed. I’m glad we picked them when we could. That could have all gone to the critters.

The man got up and went to the window, where she stood. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her tightly. “It’s a great view from where I stand.”

“I know, honey! I’m so glad the tree started producing apples again. I thought it never would be restored.” The severe pruning done earlier that year had resulted in a crop that summer that had the fruit pulling its branches closer to the ground than ever before. She turned around, reached her arms up, and wrapped them around his neck. She stared into his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. With a Southern accent, she added, “how ’bout them apples?”

*******

For more stories, check them out here. Also, my book Life, Rewritten, a compilation of poems and other fiction I’ve written, will be available in May 2025. Stay tuned!