Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Fiction - The Harvest Of Hanover

The Harvest Of Hanover

Fiction By Amy Christina Torrans 

Mama says it's red gold, like leaves when they are turning. To me, it's just hair, one braid on each side of my head.  Daddy says I can cut it when I am thirty, but that's a long time, cuz I'm only seven and a half years old right now.  But Daddy is teasing. He gets that funny smile on his face right before he winks.

We live on our own farm, on Hanover Road, in a town in Colorado.  Daddy grows apple trees, and sells the apples to people when they are ready to be picked in the Fall. I mean when the apples are ready to be picked. At school, I am starting to learn how to talk and write right. Oh, yeah, correctly. 

 "Hallie!" Mama is calling. "Time for supper." Daddy says he let Mama name me Hallie so it would rhyme with our last name O'Mally.  Mama just rolls her eyes and smiles at Daddy. 

"Did you see that old man picking Golden Delicious?" I ask Daddy as I take a bite of green beans. He looks alarmed.  "Marnie, did you notice anyone come in who did not buy anything?" 

"Oh, Randy, I just saw you helping Mrs. Jenkins." Mama sounds worried.

"Hey, now, I'm sure it's nothin' to be worked up about." Daddy glances at me and Mama. "Ya get it? Hay, now?" He pats Mama's blond hair and she nods slowly. Just the same, he heads out to the orchard, calling our hound Henry.

The next day around four o clock I see him again. That man who I think might be a hundred. He is skinny, with dirty clothes, and a sad, confused look on his face.  This time, Daddy sees him, too."Can I help you, Mister?"  

But the man stares off at nothing in the distance. Mama looks shocked when Daddy brings the man in for supper.  She looks even more surprised when the man eats and drinks like he has never had anything good before.  

"Can you tell me your name or any family?" Daddy asks quietly. But the man just chomps, seeming disturbed. Daddy gets out his laptop and I see the words "homeless" and "missing" that he types on the screen. "Nothing comes up." He tells Mama.  "He can just stay in the guest room tonight." 

"Baby, do you think that is wise?" Mama whispers.  

"I'll sleep on the couch. Henry is a good guard dog. Hallie can be in bed with you."

Daddy smiles at the man who only stands there, wringing his hands.  "Sir, I just want you to know that we care about you. And GOD loves you even more.  You might not understand this, but HIS SON JESUS died for you. HE wants you to go to Heaven someday. But until then, we are going to make sure you stay warm and fed, and get you somewhere that can help." 

Mama's phone says 2:53 a.m. when I look at it while she is sleeping.  I know I am not supposed to, but I get out of bed and tiptoe out the back door.  The guest room door is open, and the man is gone.

"Hallie, you come back here." Daddy scoops me up in his big arms.  "You scared us to death." Mama scolds, shivering in the cold.  Daddy gets in his truck to go look for the man. He comes back later with a discouraged look on his face. "No." He answers Mama's question on hers.

A few days later, Daddy brings the newspaper in, grinning. "Look at this article." He tells Mama. She reads it out loud. "Unknown elderly man found deceased after a heart attack.  The strange thing?  He had a peaceful smile on his face. And instead of a beer bottle in his hands, there was an apple."

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