Apple Picking in Mourning

Oh dear.  There’s a troubled spirit, Miss Geena thought when she watched two people picking apples in her orchard.  

Although the skin of Miss Geena sagged down from her face like wet clothes on a rack, her senses were held firmly in place.  She knew the aura of a person struggling with the weight of life’s harshest lessons.  She felt it.

No, nothing like a teenage woman living in the mist of some tragedy or other could get by Miss Geena.  Observing the older gentleman accompanying this teenager, Miss Geena easily saw the father balancing his need for mourning with his desire to help his daughter heal.

Miss Geena suddenly started to stand up from her trusted chair, which was located in such a way that she could happily enjoy the comings and goings of the many orchard visitors.  A hand warmly touched her shoulder before she could rise and she sat back down.  “Mother, please.  Let them be.”

Miss Geena looked over at her grown son, Tad, and said in her best matriarchal voice, “Don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout.  Jus’ goin’ down the lane fo’ a stroll.”

“Mother, you and I both know what you are doing.  Let the father and his daughter pick their apples and leave.  We don’t need to harass our customers, no matter how sad they look.”

Miss Geena looked at her son, who smiled at her.  He wasn’t mad, but he was trying to allow his customers the privacy they wanted while they strolled between the many apple trees.  “Ah, al’ right.  I’ll jus’ sit here and mind my own bus’ness.”  Miss Geena made sure to grunt just enough to show her son she wasn’t pleased about her choice to comply.

Tad smiled, kissed his mother on the cheek, and left to tend to the family business.  Miss Geena continued to observe this hurting father and daughter.

***

Silence.  No words.  No attempts.  Just two people distancing enough to feel alone, but not far enough to make it look like they want to be alone.  A father’s surreptitious glance here; a daughter’s quick downward glance there.  Two people connected by blood and by 13 years of memories, but still unsure how to feel like they belong.

“Look at this one, Jess!” The father used his best cheery tone, but the air was thick with pain and choked it out.  Not giving up, the father picked the juicy and large apple, moving it out toward his daughter to show her.  

She barely looked, but wanted to appease him.  “That’s great, Dad.”  She knew her dad was trying, but she just wasn’t in the mood for any of this.

He put the apple into his green bag and moved on, silently strategizing other ways to build his relationship with his daughter.

Slowly making their way down the lane of trees, neither spoke.  Only a few apples made it into their bags.  Every movement felt forced.  The minutes felt like days.  For the dad, the plan was backfiring.  For the daughter, the attempt was prison.

***

Miss Geena could not stand it any longer.  She felt their pain drifting in cool, fall air.  The wilting leaves from the surrounding trees were no match for the shriveling hearts of these two people.  After a quick glance to where Tad left, and seeing that he was engaged with one of their maintenance staffers, Miss Geena stood up and began her march.

Her body was slow, but she was steady.  She made her way to the father and daughter, who didn’t seem to notice her approaching.  To them, she was probably just an old lady picking a few apples off the lower branches.  

Miss Geena planted herself in the middle of the lane as firmly as any of the trees.  The father was picking an apple from a tree on Miss Geena’s left while Jess’ back was turned to her right.  

“Hm-hm.”  Miss Geena’s cough was like a church bell that could be heard for miles.  It was all she needed to gain their attention.

The father was first to address Miss Geena.  “Oh, hello Ma’am.  Can we help you?”

Miss Geena looked into his eyes for a moment, as if she were deciding whether or not she knew him.  “Seems to me you the one needin’ help.”

“I’m sorry?”

Miss Geena didn’t respond to him, but rather turned toward the girl.  “Child, come here if you please.”  Miss Geena’s grandmotherly arms opened up, letting her shawl unravel like the wing of an eagle ready to take flight.  Jess looked at her dad with a bit of confusion.  He was equally caught off guard by this stranger.

Miss Geena just smiled and stayed where she was, arms opened and ready.   “I’m sorry, but who are you?”  

The father asked this, but Miss Geena didn’t look to him.  She just kept smiling at the girl and replied, “It’s okay, the both of you.  I’m Miss Geena.  My husband started this orchard 60 years ago.  My son manages the bus’ness now, and my granddaughter plans on takin’ ov’r.  You on my favorite lane o’ trees.  But that’s not why I come ov’r.  Come on, child.  Come here so ole Miss Geena can look you ov’r.”

The father began smiling during this and said, “Oh, wow.  You are the one in the picture of the brochure.  The one seated in the middle of the entire family.  It’s nice to meet you, Miss Geena.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Miss Geena said while still looking at Jess.  “Come here, child.  Help an old lady to that chair ov’r there.”  This entire time, Miss Geena was looking at the daughter with deep sympathy and compassion.  Without realizing it, Jess was being lured into Miss Geena’s arms.  Jess helped Miss Geena, who really needed no help at all, into a chair at the other end of the lane.

“Thank you, child.  Now, what’s your name?”

“Jess.”

“An’ how old are you, Jess?  You look ‘bout 12.

“I’m 13.”

“Oh my, child.  13?”  Miss Geena chuckled a bit and looked to the father.  “You got yourself a little Leyland Cypress.”

“Excuse me?” the father asked.

“It’s a tree.  Grows fast.  Jess here looks tall for her age.”

“Oh, right.  Um, yeah.  Her mother was tall...”. His voice suddenly shifted and died.

Miss Geena looked at him and simply said, “Mm-mm.”  She shook her head a little and then glanced up at Jess, who lowered her head.  “Well, you ain’t exactly like the Leyland Cypress.  You see, the Leyland Cypress has poor roots.  It does awful in bad weather.  But you look like a young woman who stays strong when life’s storms hit.  You’ve got strong roots.”

Jess glanced up at Miss Geena then and offered a faint smile at the compliment.  A moment of silence followed.

“No matter,” Miss Geena went on.  “You didn’t come here for a metaphor.  You came to get some delicious apples!  Best in the state!  Go on, now.  Go find them apples.”

Jess smiled again, more as a way to show gratitude than any actual feeling of happiness.  She turned to find some more apples.  Her father, however, stayed behind.

“Thank you Miss Geena.  That is the first time I have seen her smile since…” Again, his voice trailed off as he looked toward Jess.

“I never caught your name,” Miss Geena announced.

“Oh, sorry,” replied the father.  “I’m George.”

“Well, George,” went on Miss Geena in her matter-of-fact tone.  “You’re hurtin’.  Your daughter’s hurtin’.  I don’t -“

“I’m sorry, Miss Geena,” interrupted George, “but we just don’t need you worrying about our life.”  George turned to go toward his daughter, but saw Tad standing there glaring at Miss Geena.

“Hello, sir.  I hope my mother isn’t bothering you or your daughter.”

George glanced between Tad and Miss Geena.  “Oh, um.  No.  Excuse me.”  George went to join his daughter.  Miss Geena looked up at Tad with a reproachful look.  

“Now why’d you go an’ do that?  That family’s hurtin’.”

“Mother,” Tad said, “You’ve got to stop this.  Ever since we lost Dad you’ve been trying to counsel our customers.  Let them pick their apples and play their fall games and pet their farm animals.  Then let them leave.”

“You’re not listenin’ Tad!” Miss Geena showed her full force within her frail frame.  “I said that family’s hurtin’.  They aren’t here to pick apples.  They’re here to heal.”

“Then let them heal on their own.  Promise me you’ll leave them alone before we lose them as customers?  I’d like them to purchase our apples and come back next year.”

After making her promise, Tad left back to his work.

***

“Dad?”

The entire car trip home was quiet until that final turn heading into their block.  George, surprised that his daughter wanted to say something, quickly asked what was up.

“Well,” she began. “I was just wondering if...do you think I have a strong root?”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“Miss Geena said I had strong roots.”

“Oh,” George said.  “Well, I don’t know what that old lady was getting at, but…”. 

George’s voice faltered a little.  He pulled into the driveway and parked the car.  He looked over at his daughter, who had tears forming.  He took a breath and continued, “Listen.  Honey.  All I know about strong is how much your mother had.  And she gave that strong to you.”

Jess tried to nod, but kept looking down trying to hide her tears.  “I didn’t want to go to that stupid apple orchard.  I always went with mom, and she always found the best apples for pie.  It was what her and I did together.  In the kitchen.  It’s not what you and me do.”

Of course, George thought.  That was stupid of me.  Why did I take her there?  Like I was going to make some fun memory and move on. 

But George couldn’t bring himself to say anything out loud.  He wanted to, desperately, but he could not find the words.

And so George and Jess, father and daughter, sat in a silent car trying to collect thoughts.  Trying to find the right words.  But there are no right words when death is still fresh.  So Jess bravely looked at her father and said, “Dad?”  He glanced up, and Jess took his hand.  “I know mom was strong.  But I didn’t just get my roots from her, you know.  I got them from you, too.  You don’t have to try to make up for the time I don’t get with mom.”

And so, still holding hands, leaning in to each other, father and daughter embraced.

***

“Miss Geena?”  

“Mm?”

“Hi.  We meet last week in that row of apple trees over there?  My name is Jess.”

“I remember, child.”

“Well, I just want to thank you.  You said that I had strong roots, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.  I think I do have the strength to carry on.  You see, my mom died last...well it doesn’t matter.  I just -”

Miss Geena put up a raised palm with compassion and understanding.  “Child, come sit next to me.”  Jess sat and Miss Geena continued, “My husband died long ago.  It isn’t fair that I lost my husband, and it isn’t fair to you that you lost your mama.  But, you see them apples?”

Jess nodded.

“Them apples, child, is a peculiar thing.  It takes ten years for those seeds to grow into fruit.  Did you know that?”

Jess shook her head and replied, “Really?”

“Mm-mm,” continued Miss Geena.  “Ten years.  Ten long, hard years, too.  It takes patience, but look at this orchard.  You see that tree ov’r there?  That one died this year.  But all these other ones keep doin’ their best to make more delicious fruit.  Meanwhile, another tree will be planted to replace that one.  I may be dead myself before it bears any good fruit, but it will.  With love and patience, it will.”

Miss Geena glanced at Jess, who just stood and stared at the orchard, trying to let the message sink in a bit.  Miss Geena smiled and said, “Child, it is no blessing to lose a mother.  And I’m sorry for you.  But I do believe that when someone or something dies inside of us, we can replant and regrow.  It may take years to bear such delicious fruit again, but with love and patience, we will.  This orchard would have died with my husband if he hadn’t stuck to it.  And I’m glad he did.  And you’ll be glad you stuck to your strength, too.”

After a moment, Jess thanked Miss Geena and hugged her.  When they parted, Miss Geena said, “Here, child.”  She picked up a large apple from beside her and offered it to Jess.  “Take this apple.  I just picked it this mornin’. No charge!”

Jess took the apple, thanked Miss Geena one last time, and left.

“So, you counseled a customer who actually came back, only to give her an apple for free?”  Tad stood over his mother with a big smile.

“Mm-mm.”  

Tad sat next to his mother.  “Well, it looks like she could use an apple or two.  You know, to help her heal.”

“Mm-mm.”

“Do you think she will heal, mother?”

Miss Geena paused and ever-so-slowly turned her body to look directly at her son.

“Mm-mm