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?” I picked up the rose petals from the ground, and pretending to put together a puzzle, rearranged them in my 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. I blew the petals out of my hand, and watched the wind carry them away, tumbling down the sidewalk, as though heads over heels in love. I smiled.

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

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

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

“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 me on the forehead, then walked to the car, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “You ready now?”

“Yeah.” The man waved goodbye, and blew a kiss to me, as I sat under the apple tree.

***

“What about now?” I held a large, empty 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 I stood on brought me to eye level with the lowest branch of the tree. “Especially for you.” I plucked my first apple, and tossed it down as well. My 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.

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

“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.”

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

“Hey, you,” he said softly. He took the basket from my hands, and held me in his arms, squeezing me tightly. His kiss made my heart flutter.

While in his embrace, I had memories of the best kiss of my life. We 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 emotion in his voice, he had uttered the words, “Will you marry me?” Without hesitating, I replied with a resounding “yes,” and he sealed the engagement with a kiss. As I sat at dinner that night, with a glass of red wine to celebrate, I looked at him, saying, “This was the best day of my life.” It had been the best thirtieth birthday I could ever have had. Hands down.

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

I laughed, and walked into the house.

***

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

The knock at the door startled me, and at the same time woke me from my daytime reverie as I 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, I saw my 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.”

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

“Sure, come on in.” I took off my 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 we settled in, the dog came in and greeted himself, jumping on my husband. “Hey, you, get down!” The dog sat down next to him, and he rubbed the dog’s ears. The double-coated dog was intent on enjoying this opportunity.

After I sat down, he took a sip of his black coffee, and setting it down, took both of my 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.

I 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 commitment, true honesty. Real connection. Is this something you really want?” My eyes widened, and my eyebrows 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.”

I 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?”

I grinned back at my youngest child, who was always ready to argue with me. “I am Southern.” In a country drawl, I added, “Ya know, I’m not from around these parts.” Back in my regular voice, I 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 we 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 I looked around the table, I realized my greatest fears had never been realized. What had been a season of nightmarish quality was now a reality where my dreams became manifest. I 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.

My husband got up and went to the window, where I stood. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and held me 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 close to the ground. I turned around, reached my arms up, and wrapped them around his neck. I stared into his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. With a Southern accent, I 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!