| General Fiction posted November 27, 2021 | Chapters: |
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A pastor in waiting.
A chapter in the book Concertina
An Orchard of love
by Yardier
| Background Lee Morason is a Vietnam veteran with the aftereffects of combat clouding his view of life. He avoids the symptoms and denies he is heading to a psychological and spiritual break down. |
Dr. Nguyen Van Archer blinked his eyes open! Awake, his mind turned on like a television with images of today's and tomorrow's tasks before him. He was excited. He loved Independence Day or the 4th of July, as most Americans called the celebration, and he had one more day to prepare for it. Not wanting to disturb his wife Kim, he sat up carefully in bed, but to no avail.
"Nguyen?" she asked sleepily.
"Yes, dear."
"Why are you getting up at 4:30?"
Nguyen hesitated a moment. "I've got a lot on my mind and a lot to get done for tomorrow's celebration." He did not tell her something else had awakened him.
"Um… right," Kim said into her pillow and closed her eyes.
Nguyen put on his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, and dropped two bagels in the toaster. He leaned on the kitchen sink and looked through the window at a small orchard of trees barely visible in the pre-dawn light. Tomorrow there would be children laughing and playing and families eating and sharing tales of good and bad fortune that had come their way since they had left Vietnam so many years ago. What a terrible time that had been. But oh, what a great blessing had come their way in this beautiful country called America.
Nguyen poured himself a mug of coffee and mixed a little milk and honey with it just as the bagels popped up in the toaster. The small kitchen now smelled like a grand little bakery. He was inwardly pleased and thankful for the small blessings in his life as he carried his coffee and bagels and sat at the kitchen table. Still, he was bothered by a vague pressing issue. Perhaps he had forgotten something necessary for Independence Day. He did not know what it was, and he did not want to let his flock down, so he bowed his head and closed his eyes and prayed a simple prayer. "Thank you, Lord, for this day and all that is about to occur. I know you have awakened me for a purpose, and I bow my soul before You. Amen."
He sipped his coffee, took a small bite of the bagel, then reached across the table and retrieved a Daily Devotional Bible. He intended to read a chapter from Psalms, but the Bible seemingly opened on its own to Matthew 24:44 "Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect."
Nguyen paused mid-chew; the scripture jumped out at him with urgency and import he had not experienced since he first read it before his conversion.
He swallowed and reread the scripture. "Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect."
"Whew… Lord, what am I to do with that?" Nguyen softly questioned God under his breath.
"Are you talking to yourself again?"
Nguyen jumped at the sound of his wife's soft voice and turned to see her leaning against the door jamb with a sweet sleepy smile.
He put his coffee mug down with a sheepish look as Kim walked behind him, slid her arms over his chest, and placed her cheek against his. "Are you telling me the great Mr. Nguyen Van Archer with a Doctorate in Christian Apologetics does not know what to do with a 'Word' from our Lord? If that's the case, I must have married the wrong man."
Nguyen turned, faced her, and placed his lips on hers. She pressed her lips back with a full kiss, and for a moment, they shared peace and togetherness bonded by love.
Breaking for air, Nguyen looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you sure?"
Kim, the bride of his youth, answered, "I don't know…, I might have to check again later."
"You'll know where to find me," Nguyen said mischievously.
Kim reached down and snatched the remaining bagel and said, "I know…, watering those dang fruit trees of yours."
"Nguyen?" she asked sleepily.
"Yes, dear."
"Why are you getting up at 4:30?"
Nguyen hesitated a moment. "I've got a lot on my mind and a lot to get done for tomorrow's celebration." He did not tell her something else had awakened him.
"Um… right," Kim said into her pillow and closed her eyes.
Nguyen put on his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, and dropped two bagels in the toaster. He leaned on the kitchen sink and looked through the window at a small orchard of trees barely visible in the pre-dawn light. Tomorrow there would be children laughing and playing and families eating and sharing tales of good and bad fortune that had come their way since they had left Vietnam so many years ago. What a terrible time that had been. But oh, what a great blessing had come their way in this beautiful country called America.
Nguyen poured himself a mug of coffee and mixed a little milk and honey with it just as the bagels popped up in the toaster. The small kitchen now smelled like a grand little bakery. He was inwardly pleased and thankful for the small blessings in his life as he carried his coffee and bagels and sat at the kitchen table. Still, he was bothered by a vague pressing issue. Perhaps he had forgotten something necessary for Independence Day. He did not know what it was, and he did not want to let his flock down, so he bowed his head and closed his eyes and prayed a simple prayer. "Thank you, Lord, for this day and all that is about to occur. I know you have awakened me for a purpose, and I bow my soul before You. Amen."
He sipped his coffee, took a small bite of the bagel, then reached across the table and retrieved a Daily Devotional Bible. He intended to read a chapter from Psalms, but the Bible seemingly opened on its own to Matthew 24:44 "Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect."
Nguyen paused mid-chew; the scripture jumped out at him with urgency and import he had not experienced since he first read it before his conversion.
He swallowed and reread the scripture. "Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect."
"Whew… Lord, what am I to do with that?" Nguyen softly questioned God under his breath.
"Are you talking to yourself again?"
Nguyen jumped at the sound of his wife's soft voice and turned to see her leaning against the door jamb with a sweet sleepy smile.
He put his coffee mug down with a sheepish look as Kim walked behind him, slid her arms over his chest, and placed her cheek against his. "Are you telling me the great Mr. Nguyen Van Archer with a Doctorate in Christian Apologetics does not know what to do with a 'Word' from our Lord? If that's the case, I must have married the wrong man."
Nguyen turned, faced her, and placed his lips on hers. She pressed her lips back with a full kiss, and for a moment, they shared peace and togetherness bonded by love.
Breaking for air, Nguyen looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you sure?"
Kim, the bride of his youth, answered, "I don't know…, I might have to check again later."
"You'll know where to find me," Nguyen said mischievously.
Kim reached down and snatched the remaining bagel and said, "I know…, watering those dang fruit trees of yours."
~~~~
Like many towns in the South San Joaquin Valley, Derby Acres isn't a town but just a name for an area during the pioneer settlement years of the 1800s. However, the Derby Acres settlement is unique in that, unlike other oilfield boom towns of the West Side, oil was never discovered. Instead, Derby Acres grew from a two-mile oval racetrack designed for the once-a-year Oil Field Boom Days' celebration that included horse and wagon racing. Over time as automobiles and trucks became more prevalent, the 'Oil Field Boom Days' celebration was relocated further west to Moron, the official oil field 'boom town' of the west side with an actual U.S. Post Office.
A risky and futile attempt to develop the abandoned racetrack into building lots and parcels barely got off the ground when it soon withered and died like every other thing that could not prevail against the tainted alkaline soil and the relentless scorching sun. Nevertheless, it was on Lot #1 Dr. Van Archer staked his Christian homestead and watered his 'dang' fruit trees. The east property line of Lot #1 consisted of both starting and finish lines of the old racetrack, and it is there that Dr. Van Archer constructed a simple four foot by eight-foot sign that read:
A risky and futile attempt to develop the abandoned racetrack into building lots and parcels barely got off the ground when it soon withered and died like every other thing that could not prevail against the tainted alkaline soil and the relentless scorching sun. Nevertheless, it was on Lot #1 Dr. Van Archer staked his Christian homestead and watered his 'dang' fruit trees. The east property line of Lot #1 consisted of both starting and finish lines of the old racetrack, and it is there that Dr. Van Archer constructed a simple four foot by eight-foot sign that read:
WELCOME
To
DERBY ACRES FREE-WILL METHODIST CHURCH
Sunday Services 10:00 am
Wednesday Prayer Meeting 7:00 pm
Dr. Nguyen Van Archer, Pastor
To
DERBY ACRES FREE-WILL METHODIST CHURCH
Sunday Services 10:00 am
Wednesday Prayer Meeting 7:00 pm
Dr. Nguyen Van Archer, Pastor
Dr. Van Archer didn't particularly like the title 'Doctor' and instead preferred 'Brother,' so he made it a point to request persons to refer to him as Brother Archer.
Brother Archer loved God, loved his Vietnamese wife, and loved the little Christian congregation God had blessed him to shepherd, teach, and serve. He was grateful God removed him from war-torn Vietnam during the 'Boat People' exodus. But being an Amerasian bastard son of a Black Airman stationed at Tan Son Nhut Airbase outside of Saigon brought with it not a welcome to America but another form of rejection. Nguyen Van Ki was alive and safe but had no family for support. He didn't know where his mother was or if she was alive, and his father acknowledged him only to the extent the U.S. Immigration Service was satisfied for him to become a U.S. citizen. After that, he was on his own. He took his father's last name along with a small immigration resettlement stipend. Then, with the help of a Methodist Missionary program, he accepted a job at the Westside Junior College as a janitor and yard maintenance man.
It was there at the Westside Junior College Nguyen Van Archer worked and studied and began to assimilate with his fellow Americans to include other relocated Vietnamese Boat People. It was also there he first heard the hateful words, 'Nigger Gook' spew from the mouth of a cocky Nose Tackle named Jerimiah Polanski.
Brother Archer loved God, loved his Vietnamese wife, and loved the little Christian congregation God had blessed him to shepherd, teach, and serve. He was grateful God removed him from war-torn Vietnam during the 'Boat People' exodus. But being an Amerasian bastard son of a Black Airman stationed at Tan Son Nhut Airbase outside of Saigon brought with it not a welcome to America but another form of rejection. Nguyen Van Ki was alive and safe but had no family for support. He didn't know where his mother was or if she was alive, and his father acknowledged him only to the extent the U.S. Immigration Service was satisfied for him to become a U.S. citizen. After that, he was on his own. He took his father's last name along with a small immigration resettlement stipend. Then, with the help of a Methodist Missionary program, he accepted a job at the Westside Junior College as a janitor and yard maintenance man.
It was there at the Westside Junior College Nguyen Van Archer worked and studied and began to assimilate with his fellow Americans to include other relocated Vietnamese Boat People. It was also there he first heard the hateful words, 'Nigger Gook' spew from the mouth of a cocky Nose Tackle named Jerimiah Polanski.
~~~~
"What did you say?" Nguyen stopped pushing his janitor cart.
"I said, look, there's another Nigger Gook, and it's obvious his mother was a whore," Jerimiah said with a grin.
A small crowd gathered around Jerimiah and Nguyen in the middle of the quad like jackals waiting for the kill. None of them saw Nguyen carefully remove a horsehair broom from the cart and unscrew the wood handle. Jerimiah saw it, though, just as Nguyen flipped it with a quick snap into Jerimiah's groin, causing him to double over. Nguyen quickly flipped the broom handle over like a propeller and smacked Jerimiah on the top of the head, much like a nun would smack a student with a ruler.
"Eww," the crowd responded, and a young woman giggled.
"Do you know my mother?" Nguyen asked Jerimiah.
"No…" Jerimiah sputtered while rubbing the top of his head with one hand and holding his groin with the other.
"Well, I know yours. She's the woman who sits in the same seat in the booster section at all the home games drinking vodka out of a Seven-Up bottle."
Jerimiah squinted his eyes and looked sideways at Nguyen.
"That's right, she's a drunk, and you're embarrassed by her screeching your name during the home games. Jerry, right? Go Jer-reee, Go Jer-reee Stomp his guts Jer-reee!"
Like a volcano ready to erupt, Jerimiah slowly stood upright with hot anger flushing up his thick neck to his determined and set jaw.
Nguyen circled Jerimiah while leisurely spinning the broom handle and continued, "She sounds like a cat with its tail caught in a door except no one ever tells her to shut up because of you… the mighty Polanski."
The hushed crowd stepped back.
Nguyen stopped short of Jerimiah's reach then leaned on the broom handle as if it was the staff of Moses. "I can't help what my mother did or didn't do, was or wasn't. I don't even know if she is alive, but she did give birth to me. She didn't have to, and she probably would have had a better life had she left me in a rice paddy, but she didn't. So, here I stand in front of one mighty nose tackle that outweighs me by over a hundred pounds."
Jerimiah balled his fists and stepped closer to Nguyen.
Nguyen didn't back down and instead took a half step closer to Jerimiah, causing a sudden and perplexed look from the mighty nose tackle. Then, Nguyen spoke with authority, "Look, Jerry, Jerimiah… you can call me Nigger Gook all you want… it doesn't affect me one way or the other. It just reveals how ignorant you are but, you talk about my mother as if you know her, well; we're going to have problems." Nguyen struck the broom handle on the cement walkway with emphasis. At the same time, he looked closer into Jerimiah's eyes to see a dwindling fire and a welcome retreat from his bullying into a cleverly hidden sadness.
Relieved but cautious, Nguyen put his free hand forward and said, "I can help you help your mother."
Unsure what had just happened, Jerimiah hesitated, then shook Nguyen's hand and said, "Ahright, Kwai Chang Caine, just leave the broom handle out of it."
~~~~
Years later, after Brother Archer graduated from Westside College with an Associate in Science degree in Horticulture and finished his Doctorate in Christian Apologetics, the pay-as-you-go correspondence course from the non-credentialed Mt. Nebo Bible College located in an Omaha Nebraska mail drop provided Brother Archer with the certification needed to start his little Derby Acres church. The first tree he planted was a walnut tree in honor of hardheaded Jerry Polanski and his struggling mother. Brother Archer didn't tell anyone, but every conversion to Christianity resulting from his evangelism ended with a tree planted on the church property. Some were walnuts, apricots, and oranges, limes, and grapefruit. Each tree was named in Brothers Archer's heart with a unique label to water and fertilize the tree and pray for specific issues affecting each person or family.
~~~~
With some twenty hodgepodge fruit and nut trees in various sizes scattered about the church property, Brother Archer rolled out the long garden hose to begin his daily devotion of watering and prayer. Starting with a new peachtree, planted for the Sorenson family, who recently lost their four-year-old little girl to cancer, Brother Archer petitioned the Lord to comfort the grieving parents.
Earlier, the weatherman on the morning radio said it would be 110 degrees in Bakersfield by noon.
This warning meant the Westside Oilfields were going to broil anywhere between 110 and 115 degrees, and, as Brother Archer began watering his trees, he could tell even at this predawn hour, it was already pushing 90, maybe even 95 degrees.
As he stood with his thumb over the end of the hose watering the Sorenson tree, Brother Archer could see seventy-five miles across the San Joaquin Valley to the rising sun. The dark Tehachapi Mountains backlit with an ominous red, and yellow glowing sky promised a day of relentless heat. He could also see a straight line of headlights coming out of Bakersfield on the state highway heading toward the oil fields as welders, roughnecks, crane operators, and laborers inched their way to the richest oil patch in California. Rain or shine, freezing Tule fog or broiling heat, there was oil to be pumped, mortgages to be paid, and babies fed. Most of those vehicles would pass by Derby Acres in about an hour, but a few would turn off the state highway onto Furlong Road and drive-by Brother Archer's 'Welcome' sign on their way to the B.N. Helle Oil Field Pipe Products Company located at the end of the road.
Whatever is going to happen today, Brother Archer thought, it is going to be hot.
Earlier, the weatherman on the morning radio said it would be 110 degrees in Bakersfield by noon.
This warning meant the Westside Oilfields were going to broil anywhere between 110 and 115 degrees, and, as Brother Archer began watering his trees, he could tell even at this predawn hour, it was already pushing 90, maybe even 95 degrees.
As he stood with his thumb over the end of the hose watering the Sorenson tree, Brother Archer could see seventy-five miles across the San Joaquin Valley to the rising sun. The dark Tehachapi Mountains backlit with an ominous red, and yellow glowing sky promised a day of relentless heat. He could also see a straight line of headlights coming out of Bakersfield on the state highway heading toward the oil fields as welders, roughnecks, crane operators, and laborers inched their way to the richest oil patch in California. Rain or shine, freezing Tule fog or broiling heat, there was oil to be pumped, mortgages to be paid, and babies fed. Most of those vehicles would pass by Derby Acres in about an hour, but a few would turn off the state highway onto Furlong Road and drive-by Brother Archer's 'Welcome' sign on their way to the B.N. Helle Oil Field Pipe Products Company located at the end of the road.
Whatever is going to happen today, Brother Archer thought, it is going to be hot.
The title Concertina refers to razor wire used to secure a combat perimeter. It is also used on prison walls. It is designed with barbs and razor type hooks intended to snag a person from entering or attempting to escape a secure area.
Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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and 2 member cents. Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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