Two of a kind equals a 'pear'

CW: Contains references to euthanasia

They call it a felony. I call it a promise. No matter the outcome, I would do it again.

Besides, it really isn't kidnapping. Well, he was napping, but he is no kid. He hadn't been one for about eighty-two years. I don't know the exact age when someone is no longer referred to as a 'kid.' I am guessing around five years old. The point is, I did not kidnap anyone.

The sun had yet to rise when I begun the two-hundred-mile journey. Giving me time to think or change my mind, nor could I claim what I did was impulsive. A back-pack full of items I need are on the seat next to me. Once I commit there will be no turning back.

Three hours later, I did what I came to do. It was easier than I thought. Honestly, there wasn't even a struggle. In and out, within ten minutes. Okay, fifteen with parking.

I am now heading back. Shaking from the adrenaline pumping through my body, maybe it was the three cups of coffee I consumed on the way down. Either way I was buzzing.

Glancing over at the unconscious person next to me, my mind wanders, reminiscing about life with my grandfather on his orchard. My parents perished in a car crash twenty-five years ago. I was nine and with them at the time. I lived, they didn’t. I still don’t remember anything of that day. He became my guardian. Ironically, we were driving out to see him when the accident occurred.

He taught me everything, about farming and life. Especially our culture and traditions. He sent me to college to learn how to grow a business, how to run the orchard. When he retired, I took over the farm. His two remaining children had no urge to continue the family trade. Our award-winning pears grew from a simple farm to become a main supplier for all North America. I adore this man. I would do anything for him, hence my actions that now lead me to commit a so-called crime.

The light in my rear-view mirror shines with a warm glow, snapping me out of my memories. Another beautiful morning. The figure next to me stirs. The meds are wearing off. I adjust the blanket, covering him.

My cell phone rings, I knew this was coming.

Politely I answer. "Hello, Lincoln speaking."

"Lincoln, where the hell are you?" My aunt’s voice is high pitched and hurts my ears. Thank goodness for Bluetooth.

"Why, who wants to know?" Smiling to myself, knowing I just raised her already high blood pressure.

"Lincoln, turn around and bring him back."

I glance at my grandfather, still sleeping peacefully. "Not going to happen aunty."

"This is crazy, why are you doing this? He is an old man who needs professional care."

"He asked me."

"He isn't capable." She retorts.

"When was the last time you asked him what he wants?"

"Now, that isn't fair you know he...."

" I know because I listen. Have you truly listened to what he says?” I snap.

"Oh, don't be dramatic, we have a life to live. That why we have him in a home with proper caregivers to see to his eve...."

Cutting her off again, no longer polite. "They don't care for him, they drug him. That’s his life now. He deserves better and you know it."

A silence fills the cab.

"Lincoln, I know this is hard for you. He’s very sick and has Alzheimer's. He isn't going to get better." Her voice is calm, and kind. I hear pain as she says this.

She is right. My aunt Sara isn't a bad person. She loves her father, but I don't think she knows how I feel. I see things others can't. I know him better than they do. It comes from working with him since I was a child. As an adult our bond grew.

People say we are quite the pair. They meant it as a pun because of the pear orchard.

"Lincoln, you haven't yet committed a serious felony. But if you go through with what you have planned." She pauses. I hear sobbing. "Please bring my father back."

Felony? I have done no such thing. Then I glance into the cargo bed of the truck and see the wheelchair. Ok so I may have stolen that. As for the rest. I can live with what I am about to do.

"He asked me for this. I brought it to the attention of the medical staff, and they did nothing."

"Lincoln?" My grandfathers voice breaks through our conversation.

My heart beats a little faster, he is awake, and he recognizes me. "I have to go aunty, goodbye."

Before it fully disconnects I hear her call out, "No wait, Lincoln don't…"

I pull the truck over, turn the engine off and look at my hero. “Grandfather, you can see me?”

He is smaller than he once was, frail. But his eyes are what they have always been. Strong, and intelligent. Taking in the surroundings, awareness creeps onto his face. Turning to me he says in a surprisingly strong voice.

“Of course I can see you, I’m old not blind. Where are we?"

"Twenty miles from our orchards." I reply.

I watch his mind working. He opens the door and steps outside. I race to make sure he doesn't fall. Rounding the back of the truck I see him standing tall, shoulders straight, surveying the land.

"Why are we on a back road?"

Knowing the police were called, I detoured off the main highway an hour ago.

"It's a long story Grandpa."

Bracing himself, he leans on the door. "Am I supposed to be here?"

"You belong here."

"Are you taking me home?" I hear the child in him asking.

Not trusting my voice, I just nod. This was the most lucid I had seen him in months.

Smiling he says. "Well, what are we waiting for?" Then climbs back in the cab with ease.

Running to the driver’s side I catch a glimpse of him through the windshield, looking like a child on his way to summer camp. A nervous smile upon his face.

I speed, no longer concerned about drawing attention. Looking to my grandfather I am satisfied with my decision, knowing this is the right choice.

He rolls the window down and sticks his head out. The wispy hairs upon his head flow and dance in the wind. Stretching an arm out, he surfs the air, turns to me and smiles. “I’m flying.”

My heart bursts with love.

Suddenly his demeanor changes. Rolling up the window he says very seriously. "I was hoping you could do something for me. I have asked the doctors, but they always decline my request." Taking a deep breath, he looks straight ahead and continues. "I know what I am asking may get you into trouble, but..."

I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder. "We talked about this already Grandfather. Don’t worry." I accept, knowing there will be consequences.

We drive in silence. A smile slowly returns to his face. I wonder if what I am doing is right. It's still his life and his wishes should be honored.

Fifteen minutes later we pull into a section of our orchard. I park behind one of the larger trees and place him gently into the wheelchair. Lifting his face to the sun he welcomes the warmth. Wheeling him down the path between the fruit laden trees, we witness pears hanging like ornaments on a Christmas tree, their skin glistening in the afternoon light.

He takes in a deep breath and speaks. "This is a good crop."

Stretching an aged hand across himself and over his shoulder he searches. I hold mine out for him to grasp. "You have done good, very good indeed."

My chest swells with pride.

We come to an open area where the view is spectacular. Our entire Orchard is laid out before him. We stare in silence.

"Grandfather, can I get you anything?"

For the first time today, I see confusion in his face. He struggles to make sense of what is happening. Then he looks out upon his land and remembers. "I would like some tea."

I pull out a thermos and pour him a cup of lukewarm tea, milk, no sugar. I sneak in two crushed pills and stir. He holds it delicately in both hands and sips.

I am about to ask if he is ready, when my cell phone rings.

Glancing at the number I say. "Hello Uncle."

"Where are you?" No introduction or pleasantries, straight to the point.

Cryptically I reply. "We are where we are meant to be."

"Dammit Lincoln, you have gone too far this time. He is old and frail. Travelling long distances can seriously hurt him."

Looking over to the 'frail old man' I respond. "He looks fine to me."

“We know where you are headed. Just tell us where on the farm you are."

"If you figured the first part out, you should know where we are."

There is heavy breathing but no words. In a soft voice my uncle asks. "Lincoln, is he happy?"

Taken back by the inquiry, it sounds so soulful. I assure him. "Very happy."

"Has he asked you …to do something?"

"Yes, every time I visited him. Has he asked you as well?"

"Only once, and we refused." His voice is quiet. "We couldn't… I couldn’t. I wish I had your strength.”

"Oh?"

Another pause.

He whispers a warning, "Sara is with the police, they are on their way." With that he hangs up.

Setting my phone on silent, I walk to my idol.

I hear him singing a child's song. 'I grow from flowers pretty and white...I like the Sun with plenty of shine, but in a cool climate I do fine...'

Kneeling in front of him I join him in the song he taught me when I was young. We finish the tune together.

I fear he is slipping back; I ask him. "Grandpa are you ready?"

He is straining to comprehend what I am asking. His eyes pierce into me, then drift past to stare behind me. I turn around to see what caught his attention. On the tree is the most beautiful pear I have ever seen. The narrow neck gripping the stalk, curving down to form a perfect oval shape. The color of the skin is a translucent green on a body of bright yellow. It glows.

We have witnessed perfection. I know it is time and begin rummaging inside my backpack. In the distance I hear sirens. Dust billows in the air, behind the speeding cruisers. I dig deeper and retrieve my Knife.

Grandfather is back to humming the tune. I walk softly so I do not disturb him. The wailing from the sirens becomes louder. They turn onto the road entering the orchard.

My hand trembles trying to grip my knife, quickly I slice once, then press the blade into the flesh and cut again.

When the Police arrive, I am kneeling in front of my grandfather. My hands sticky, I toss the blade on the grass and rub my hands with the soil that nurtures our trees.

They are too late.

A commanding voice breaks the peace "Lincoln, lie face down on the ground."

I look up, and freeze. Guns are drawn and aiming directly at me. Raising my hands, I throw myself onto the dirt. Strong hands grip my arms, forcefully twisting them behind me.

Aunt Sara’s voice cries out "Dad, oh daddy..." She runs towards us.

They hoist me up. I’m feeling dazed and confused. Everyone is talking, there is so much noise, I’m having a hard time focusing.

Suddenly a soft song fills the air. "I like the Sun with plenty of shine, but in a cool climate I do fine..."

Everyone freezes. All eyes turn to the man in the wheelchair. Grandfather is humming and smiling, chewing on one of the best pears in the country.

"He's alive?" Sara blurts out.

"Of course he's alive, why wouldn't he be?" I shoot back.

The officer who is gripping my arms, rather forcefully I might add, speaks. "We were told you were going to kill your grandfather."

"What?" I stammer out. "Why, what on earth made you think I was going to kill him?"

Sara pipes in, "Because he asked you too, you said so. He asked us once, but we refused to listen to such a thing."

I say honestly. "He never asked me to do that."

"Well, what did he ask you to do?”

"He wanted to return to the farm and eat one of his pears, but the doctors kept refusing. Something about travel and dietary restrictions."

Everyone pauses, observing the little old man in the chair. Watching him nibble on the pear I had cut up for him. A very sticky and juicy pear indeed.

With a huge grin on his face, grandfather looks to me and asks. "Lincoln, may I have one more please?"