David trimmed off all the new branches his son could reach. Then he chose the liveliest branches to keep, the withering ones he trimmed or cut off completely, butt eventually he had to make the painful decision. Which of the pretty branches would be cut off now that the ugly ones had been removed. The leaves rustled under the gentle pruner's saw. A glorious tree it was -- the culmination of many years of work. Its deep red leaves seemed to caress him as a lover would.
"Sorry, I know you won't like this but it's for the best." He said this as he started cutting off some of the more beautiful branches. He soothed with words a simple tree could not understand. "You must keep yourself busy developing the perfect fruit. Don't think about the loss, only think of the gain."
He finished and went into the shack. His son was on the bench next to the small wooden table practicing his times tables on a small chalk board, paper was too expensive for this kind of practice. He told his son to only use paper for school work he had to turn in.
"Dad?"
"Yes."
"What's seven times six?"
"Forty-three."
"Thank you."
"I didn't know that you had to know your seven times tables yet."
"Oh, I'm just studying ahead."
David smiled at his son. That boy was always studying ahead, always trying too hard to do the best he could to please someone else, that boy was just like his late mother.
"Whilom, clean the chalk, off your hands, and wash up. The doctor is coming to dinner soon."
Whilom did as his father had told him. He carried the chalk and board to the wooden cupboard opened the door and put them on a shelf that until very recently had been out of reach. Little boys grow fast, or that's what Rachel, David's wife, would have said.
David and Whilom started the dinner, boiled corn beef and cabbage. David turned after dropping the freshly cleaned and cut cabbage into the pot to see his son about to scrape a carrot by drawing a knife toward the hand holding the carrot.
"Whilom!"
The boy looked innocently at his father. David took the knife and carrot. After it was in the boiling brew, David looked back at his son. He wasn't crying but he may have while David wasn't watching.
"I just didn't want you to cut yourself. I didn't mean to yell, okay?"
Whilom nodded.
David knelt in front of his son. He saw Whilom's green eyes. They were so much like his mother's "Now go into the loft and change that shirt I want you in your very best when the doctor comes."
"Why? You hate him."
"Daddy doesn't hate him, he ...."
"Your talking about yourself in the third person."
David smiled then laughed. "Who taught you that?"
"I don't know."
"Get upstairs and change."
As Whilom climbed the ladder, there was a knock on the door. It was a plaintive knock; a knock that asked for forgiveness for being present or for any possible interruption. Well it should, David thought. He opened the door to see the short thin doctor.
"There's something dead under your tree," the doctor said.
"What?" David had expected a greeting.
"There's something dead under you tree."
"Well, let's take a look," David said, trying to sound normal.
The doctor led David around the house and to the blood red tree. That's where he saw it. The small gray body under the tree made David's heart beat faster. He smiled to himself. David glanced up and saw them. The tree was finally bearing fruit -- his fruit. Strange he hadn't noticed earlier. No, the tree had not had fruit earlier.
"Well that's one squirrel that won't be stealing from my garden this year."
"I wonder what killed him."
"Or her."
"Or her?"
"Yes or her."
"I wonder what killed him, ... or her."
"Oh, don't worry yourself. It was probably indigestion."
The doctor laughed. "If your squirrels are like the ones at my place, your probably right. You know I didn't get one nut off the butternut tree of mine last fall. The squirrels started eating those nuts in the spring, before they were as big around as my pinkie, and by the fall not one was left. I'm surprised that you have any fruit left on this tree."
David smiled. "Well, to be honest, nothing was on it earlier this afternoon when I was pruning it, but this is an unusual tree.
"What type is it?"
"Oh, ... one of my own making."
The doctor was silent, waiting for David to continue.
"It will only bloom once in its life, and what ever fruit you pull off is what you get."
"That is unusual."
"Yes, at the rate those fruit are growing they will be ripe by morning. If you like, I can drop some at your place on my way into town tomorrow."
"Fresh fruit this early in the year," the doctor thought out loud. "Sounds good."
David scooped up the little lifeless gray body and dropped it on the pile of prunings and trash to burn as he led the doctor into the house. Whilom had already set the crude table, and was filling the glasses with water when they entered.
"Your boy is much bigger than when I last saw him."
"When did you see him last?"
The doctor paused. "When your wife died."
When you killed her, David thought. "They grow fast. I can barely keep up with him myself.
"Well, by the smell of it, dinner is finished."
"I've been looking forward to this. I love corn beef."
"I'd think a rich doctor like yourself could have corn beef to his heart's content."
"My cook refuses to make it. Flat refusal., Can you believe it? He says it's too base and won't demean his pots with it. So, I never get any."
"You shouldn't take that. Why, if I had money enough to pay a servant to do my cooking, he would cook what I wanted."
"Well, I almost fired him for it, but he has a wife and two children to support. I've grown fond of the little ones."
"Your too thoughtful."
The three of them ate in silence, except for the occasional slurp and clank of metal spoon on metal bowl. Whilom tried not to splash on his best shirt, but did anyway. David smiled knowing how hard his seven year old tried, but seven year olds are still children. The doctor looked around the single bottom floor of the shack. The floor was swept hard packed dirt. The metal pots, utensils and bowls were hanging in the corner. Some were probably in the cupboard. The doctor had lived like this seven years ago when he had helped deliver Whilom. There hadn't been time to start a fire and boil up water to was in. Nature doesn't wait. Whilom's mother had died of a disease. He had probably transmitted it from one of the neighbors. If Whilom hadn't been breech, the mid-wife wouldn't have asked for help in the deliver, but nature doesn't care. Rachel Whilom's mother, had told the doctor to forgive himself. He had not spoken with David for years.
"Seconds?"
"No, thanks. It was good though. I should come over more often."
David was silent.
After dinner they sat on the grass between the shack and the road and talked -- all three of them. Whilom shoed the doctor that he could do cartwheels. The doctor told David how he was able to cut his fees in half by careful investment. David listened, feigning interest. When the doctor left on foot Whilom told David, "I like him."
"That's too bad."
"What?"
"It's time for your bed."
"Okay."
In the morning the fruit was ripe. David picked some with gloved hands. After placing the fruit in a basket, he returned to the shack. He listened at the door to see if his boy as awake. His son was whispering something inside.
"Come here Mrs. Bloodsucker. I won't kill you." Another pause. "He has a big day today, so needs his sleep. He said so."
David entered laughing. "I'm already up."
"Oh."
"Who are you talking to?"
"There's a mosquito in here."
"Are you ready for school?" David said, looking around to see if he could spot the mosquito.
"No."
"I'll drop you off on my way into town if you're ready, unless you'd rather walk."
"Uh-uh." Whilom climbed the ladder and made rustling sounds somewhere out of sight.
David set the fruit basket on the table. he sat on the bench. The fruit looked and smelled delicious to him. He would like a bite, but he knew better. The fruit was evil. It would kill.
Soon the basket was at the doctor's, and his son was at school. David did some shopping in town and then took the car to the shop to have some work done on it. A ten minute tune-up turned into a twenty minute tune-up which turned into an hour to fix the damage done in the tune up which turned into a six hour search for the part that wasn't in stock.
"I have to get home."
"I'll be done in an hour. It'll take no time now that I have the part."
"My son is probably home wondering were dinner is."
"It'll only take an hour."
"Give me a ride to my place and just drop off the car in the morning. OK?"
"It'll only take and hour."
"You're not going to give me a ride home?"
In an hour David was given a ride home. The colorful sunset had finished with a disappointing grayness. Everything was gray when the truck stopped at the road in front of David's shack.
"It's dark in their David. Your kid's probably out playing with a friend."
"No, I don't let him light the candle's when I'm not home. You know how kids are with fire."
"Yeah, I was one once. I'll have that car to you first thing in the morning. Okay?"
"Yeah, right."
"No, I will this time."
"Can you help me carry my groceries in, or will you charge me 'labor' for that?"
"Sure." David wondered which the "sure" was answering.
David pushed open the door to the shack with his foot, stumbled around in the gray and deposited his boxes on the table.
"Whilom? Are you asleep? You must be hungry. I brought food."
"Where do you want these?"
"Here, I'll take them," David said.
"I'd do it myself but I can't see a thing in here. You actually use candles?"
"Whilom?"
"I think he's asleep."
"You can see into the loft?" David asked sarcastically, a little angry, and climbed the ladder.
"Nope, I saw him laying under that tree out back as I came in."
David fell off the ladder. He couldn't stand at first. When he could stand, he made his way out to the cold gray lifeless body under his tree. A half eaten fruit lay close to where he had died, poisoned. David knelt next to the body.
"He's eaten some of the fruit How did he get up the tree?" David said shaking. His stomach felt like it had fallen out of his body. He couldn't breath.
"He probably just climbed up there. You know how kids are. So are you going to wake him, or just carry him to bed and let him sleep 'til morning?" The mechanic asked.
David wept.