CHAPTER 9

THE BEST OF TIMES AND THE WORST OF TIMES

MARY GOLD

TUESDAY JUNE 17, 1986

It was my twenty-first birthday.  It truly was to be the best and the worst day of my life. I’m thankful that the worst came first and was remedied later in the day.  I saw something the evening before that absolutely crushed me, and I cried myself to sleep.  

I had taken my birthday off from work, but I was too depressed to get out of bed until early afternoon.  Jake tried to contact me several times, but he was the reason that I was in this state of mind, and I didn’t want to see or talk to him.  He knocked on the door and tried calling, but I just ignored him.

I think that I started to fall in love with Jake that first day we met when he was so kind and helpful.  It was now almost ten months later.  I felt like there was chemistry between us, but he continually pulled back from it, which I understood given our original agreement to just be friends.  We saw each almost every day, and on the days we couldn’t see each other, we talked on the phone.  

I was truly grateful that Jake and I got along so well, but I was increasingly troubled that he never so much as tried to hold my hand. I guess I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. Delaying gratification and being disciplined wasn’t easy. That’s why most people don’t do it. But in hindsight, we could have communicated better. Were we just friends? Or were we courting as well? This lack of communication was also what culminated in a most miserable, trying day.

In the spring of 1986, a lovely young lady named Suzy Phillips began attending our church.  She was the niece of the pastor’s wife and had moved here from California. She was  blond, perky, and gorgeous.  I thought she seemed nice and sweet, but I had a serious problem with her.  She was obviously hot for Jake.

Unbeknownst to me, Suzy had been pestering Jake for a motorcycle ride. He had been politely declining her petition, but when she showed up at his grandparent’s house, he gave in and gave her a ride.  This happened the day before my birthday.  

When I saw them return, I put aside feelings of jealousy and stepped out of my door to go say hi. I couldn’t believe what I saw as I froze halfway out the door.  Jake and Suzy were kissing! I slinked back into the house, and commenced almost twenty four hours of severe grief and depression. The way I felt was reminiscent of my feelings when my parents split up.

It was early afternoon the next day by the time I was up and dressed.  It was also early afternoon when I rebuked myself for being so jealous and ignoring Jake. After all, we were just friends. It wasn’t his fault that I not only wanted, but expected more.

After ignoring a half dozen of Jake’s attempts to contact me, I decided to stop hiding from him on his seventh attempt. After hearing the knock, I peeked out the window, then prayed for strength and wisdom after checking the redness of my eyes. I opened the door, forcing a smile.

“Hi, Mary,” Jake said with a look of concern on his face.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

“I’ve tried to get a hold of you several times,” he said.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said with no intention of telling him why I wasn’t feeling well.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m much better now,” I said. “I had a really bad night of sleep.  I didn’t end up getting out of bed until just a little while ago.”

I suspected that he was going to ask me about a motorcycle ride which I planned to decline, but instead he handed me a small gift wrapped box and smiled.

“Happy birthday,” Jake said.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the gift that he handed me.  After witnessing his lip lock with Suzy Philips, I wasn’t expecting a gift from him. I wasn’t even excited as I opened it. But it was a pretty silver banded watch, and I felt my mouth open in surprise.

“Jake, you shouldn’t have,” I said with a genuine smile as I put it on.

“Let’s go for a cycle ride,” Jake said. “I want to show you a place that I discovered.”

‘No, thanks’ was what my brain said with stubborn resistance. But his gift lowered my defenses. So I quietly responded. “Okay.”

Jake took me to some abandoned railroad tracks. My first thought was, he typically took me somewhere like a flower garden. Now he’s taking me to an overgrown jungle. We parked the bike and began walking down the old tracks.  I had such mixed feelings.  I absolutely loved being with Jake, but apparently I was just a friend, a pal, a buddy, a Christian sister. Suzy seemed to becoming his girlfriend, a romantic partner, a lover, maybe eventually his wife.

He had kissed her! Not me, who he had been hanging out with for months! But pretty, blonde Suzy, in her form fitting Jordache jeans as the engine on his motorcycle tick, ticked from the heat. They probably even had a make out session on one of the benches Jake and I had frequented. I felt sick again, and wished I hadn’t gone with him.

I was fighting off this discouragement when we came to a bridge.  Now I don’t like heights at all, and it was at least thirty feet to the creek below and fifty feet across the bridge.  At that height the railroad bridge itself seemed incredibly narrow.  I came to an abrupt halt as Jake started across.

Jake turned and looked at me. “Come on, Mary.”

“No way,” I said.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked with a mischievous grin.

“I’m not walking on that,” I insisted.

He stepped back toward me and took my hand, pulling me.  Normally I would have loved it if he took my hand, but right then I jerked it away and he laughed.  Then he did something that I wasn’t expecting.  He picked me up and began carrying me across!  I kicked and squirmed, but he was too strong. I didn’t want him to drop me, so I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his neck, not wanting to see the creek below.

JAKE

I was taking Mary Gold to show her an old railroad bridge that had a rippling stream beneath it.   I was feeling frustrated and feisty.  Yesterday I had given a gal from church a ride on my motorcycle.  She had been pestering me for some time and I finally gave in, but it was a mistake. Her name was Suzy Phillips, and she had recently moved here from California.

She was, in fact, very pretty.  In appearance, she looked a lot like my ex-girlfriend, Heather Louise Baumgartner.  However Suzy was considerably more flirtatious and more forward than Heather. I’m not gonna lie by saying there wasn’t an element of intrigue. But I was  in love with Mary Gold, and no fleshly vixen could deter this devotion. So although intrigued, I wasn’t actually tempted.

Suzy had come over to my grandparent’s place, and I told her that I had no more than a half hour. So I took her on a motorcycle ride.  When we got back, we climbed off my cycle, and she thanked me.  Then she promptly flung her arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips.  

It caught me off guard and took me completely by surprise.  Like I said, she was very pretty, and if you’re a heterosexual male, it feels pretty good to be kissed by a pretty woman. So it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to come to my senses. Thus the kiss lingered a few seconds longer than it should have before I pushed her away.  

I explained to her that I was in love with Mary Gold and couldn’t do that.  She said she understood and even apologized.  That in itself was a weird situation, to have a beautiful woman apologize for kissing you when you are a nineteen year old man.  She also said that she never would have done that if she had known my feelings for Mary Gold. She thought we were just friends.

“Mary doesn’t seem your type,” she told me.

I didn’t know Suzy knew me well enough to know my tastes.

“Oh yeah?” I responded. “Why isn’t Mary my type?”

“Well… She’s adorably cute, don’t get me wrong. But she’s like, ya know, a bookworm type, hair in bun, always in long skirts, kind of nerdy.  You’re like, all outdoorsy, muscles, and motorcycles.  You look like you should be with a model or something.  As a matter of fact, when I lived in California, I was approached by someone from Playboy to try out for their magazine.”

“You were a Playboy model?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, starting to like her even less.

“Of course not!” she declared with a stern scowl. “I believe in modesty.”

Yet she seemed to be criticizing Mary Gold for appearing too modest.  She also seemed to cross the line with short skirts and low cut tops at church.

“Just so you know, Mary does wear jeans when we go motorcycle riding,” I said.

“Look,” she replied softly. “All I’m saying is you could do much better than Mary.”

“Not in billion years could I ever do better than Mary Gold! There’s more to a person than appearance.”  Then I frowned, because I found Mary Gold more psychically appealing than Suzy in the first place. True, most guys would probably prefer Suzy over Mary Gold. But I’m not most guys. Just like most guys would probably be impressed that Playboy was interested in her, but not me.

Suzy smiled sadly, nodded, and touched my arm. “I’m sorry, I came across all wrong. It was quite conceited of me to assume I’m more, I don’t know, appealing than Mary. She is very attractive in a pre-modern sort of way. I just figured I… Well, never mind. Forget what I was just saying.”

“Okay, I will,” I replied a little more testily than I intended. But I was feeling defensive of Mary Gold, a true beauty physically, personally, and spiritually.

So as Mary Gold and I walked to the railroad bridge, it was going through my mind that I was in love with her and I didn’t know if I even liked Suzy.  Yet my lips had never connected with Mary Gold’s, but they had with Suzy’s.  I also told Suzy that I loved Mary Gold, but I never told Mary Gold that I loved her.  I became determined to change both of these dilemmas before the day was over.  

The problem was that I had never seen Mary Gold so discouraged before, even though she was trying to hide the fact.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.  It was her birthday and she should be happy.  Did she not like getting older?  She was only twenty one.

When we arrived at the bridge, Mary Gold stopped and refused to cross because she thought that it was too far below.  Like I said, I was in a feisty mood so I just scooped Mary Gold up into my arms and carried her across against her will.  

She squirmed, and protested at first. Then she simply tucked her face into my neck and shut her eyes.  Her silky auburn hair smelled of lavender as I touched my nose to it.  I felt something stir deep inside my being.  It was deeper than just sexual attraction. But that was there as well.  Until now our most intimate contact was motorcycle rides, with her arms around my waist. It only took half a minute and we were across. “We’re on the other side,” I told her.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes.  She was sucking on her lower lip, but then released it.  It glistened in the sunlight, reminding me of that first motorcycle ride that I took her on.  She looked at me and our faces were only inches apart. Her eyes seemed extra-large and adorable so close to mine. I grinned, and then I went for it, placing my lips on hers.

“You kissed me!” she said with surprise after the two second kiss. The gold flecks in her emerald eyes seemed to be dancing. With what emotion I couldn’t tell. Was she appalled or thrilled?

“Sorry,” I said a little breathless.

“Don’t be,” she whispered with a little smile.

I put my lips back on hers, and the next twenty seconds was pure bliss until she pushed me violently away. Well, violent for delicate, feminine Mary Gold, anyway.

“I saw you kissing Suzy!” Mary Gold declared angrily as I set her down.

It took my brain a few seconds to process her words. Saw me kiss Suzy? Oh… So was that why she was in a funk? “But I didn’t kiss her.”

She shook her head, and put her hands on her hips in defiance. “I saw you, with my own two eyes.”

She pointed at her eyes with the index and middle finger of her right hand. The gold flecks now seemed to dance with anger.

“I believe that you saw Miss Phillips and me in a lip lock, but she kissed me.  I didn’t kiss her!  I admit it took me by surprise and I didn’t break away as quickly as I should have, but I did break away.  I also told her that I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes got as wide as I’d ever seen them, and her mouth dropped open.

“You’re in love with me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, I am,” I declared boldly, putting my own hands on my hips. “And I regret that I told Suzy before you. But maybe one good thing will come out of her just showing up where I live and insisting on a motorcycle ride. Circumstances have now forced me into action.”

“Do you mean in love, or love like a friend?” she asked meekly.

“In love,” I said, gently taking both her hands in mine. “As in I want you to be my wife one day soon.”

“Oh my!” she said, pulling her left hand out of mine and covering her mouth.

“I hope you feel the same way,” I now said meekly.

“Oh I do, I do!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me fiercely.

When she pulled back, our lips were joined again, and almost instantly we began kissing like they do in France. After a couple of minutes Mary began to convulse and jerk.  I pulled away and noticed tears rolling down her cheeks.  I was completely dumbfounded because this was probably the best moment of my life and I felt like doing a happy dance.  So why was Mary Gold crying?

“Mary, what’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, wiping at her tears. “I’m just a dork.”

“No, there’s something.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be crying,” I said.

Then she laughed, hiccupped, and I felt relief surge through me.

“These are actually tears of relief and joy,” she said. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.  But until right now, I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.  Especially over the last couple of months, I began to doubt more and more that you did. Especially after the last twenty-four hours.”

I put a gentle hand on her cheek. “I think that I began to fall in love with you the moment that we met at my grandparent’s house.  Since then it seems like you’re always on my mind.”

She bit her lower lip and I watched her eyes fill with liquid.  Then she giggled and threw herself into me again.  We embraced for a long minute, and she fit perfectly wrapped in my arms!

WORKING AT LAKE

My first couple of weeks working at Lake Produce were spent packing either sprouts or tomatoes. Then one of the warehouse workers suddenly quit, and Lenny decided that he needed me out there rather than one of the packing rooms.  I was glad that I was able to witness one more interesting sprout room moment before I began my new task at Lake Produce.

On this particular day Lenny walked into the sprout room with a white haired sheriff’s deputy following him. Now Lon was a good guy. He was a hard worker, and the type of guy that would give you the shirt of his back. But he was also a daily pot smoker that ventured onto the wrong side of the law.

“You have a visitor,” Lenny said, looking across the room.

Lon turned and faced them. “Yeah?”

Lenny frowned scornfully at Lon.  Lenny was an ultra-conservative right winger, and Lon was an ultra-liberal left winger.  They weren’t exactly best friends with similar life views.

“The Deputy’s not here for you, Lon,” Lenny spit with disgust. “This is Mervin’s dad.”

I felt a grin grow on my face. Lon just naturally assumed the reason a cop was on the premises would be to question or even arrest him.

“Jake, you want to come with me?” Lenny said. “I’m short handed out in the warehouse.”

“Sure,” I replied, glad to try something different than stuffing sprouts into plastic containers. Plus, I was about to become acquainted with a stranger pairing than Lon and Mervin.

Stan was a friendly, mild mannered, yet bold, religious zealot.  Stan was fifty, give or take.  He had a salt and pepper comb over and thick pop bottle glasses.  Jeb was thirty something, five foot six and weighed more than three hundred pounds.  He was like a large human ball.  Jeb was in charge of loading trucks and he was also a devoted redneck.  I never met anyone that used the ‘F word’ more than Jeff.  I even noticed his heavy usage of this particular slang right off the bat when we first met.

“Jake, this is Jeb,” Lenny said. “Jeb, Jake.”

“How the F are ya?” Jeb asked, giving me a firm handshake.

“Good, nice to meet you,” I said.

“Stan, Jake. Jake, Stan,” Lenny said.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Stan said, offering me firm handshake with big toothy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” I said.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

I suppose Stan and Jeb got along well enough, but I quickly learned that there was an odd dynamic between them.  Jeb used at least one, often two, F bombs per sentence.  It appeared that Stan counteracted Jeb’s cursing with religious phrases.  Every time that Jeb swore, Stan would usually say praise God.  If Jeb took The Lord’s name in vain, Stan would not only counter it with a double praise God, but he would actually rebuke Jeb.  Believe or not Jeb took it well and fortunately rarely said The Lord’s name in vain. Stan was also known to burst forth in song at any given moment.  He would often sing a hymn at the top of his lungs.

There were countless memorable days at Lake Produce Incorporated, and Stan provided me with one of the most memorable days.  It was several months after we had first met and one of Lenny’s drivers quit on the spot without giving any notice. So Lenny had Stan fill in on the vacated route, and he had me go along with Stan to learn the route.

There were two things in particular that happened that day that I will never forget.  The first thing that happened was in Washington, Iowa.  We drove down a back alley to make a delivery to a restaurant.  All of Lake’s trucks had refrigeration units.  These units were mounted at the front of the cargo box.  They were powered by little diesel pony motors.  These little engines had two speeds.  They would run fast when they were cooling, but when they got down to the desired temperature, they would kick down to an idle.  The particular truck that Stan and I had that day smoked a lot when it ran fast.

So we were parked in the back ally and opened the rear door to make the delivery.  After the door was open for a minute or two and most of the cold air had escaped, the refer engine kicked on high to cool it back down.  When the engine kicked back on high, a lot of thick, black smoke belched forth, especially the first minute or two when it went from low to high.

Stan and I took several two wheel cart loads of produce into the restaurant.  Then Stan went up front to get a check and I took our two wheel carts to the truck.  When I went outside, a fire truck was coming up the alley behind our truck.  I signaled to the firemen that I would move the truck out of the alley.  When I went to move it, another fire truck came at me from the other direction.  I got out of the truck and ran up to a fire fighter to see where they wanted me to go.

“You mean your truck isn’t on fire?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, puzzled.

“We got a call telling us that there was a truck on fire in this alley,” he said.

“No,” I said, pointing at the refer unit. “When that thing kicks on, it smokes a lot.”

The fireman and his colleagues started laughing.

“So I guess you don’t want us to stick our hose down it then?” he asked.

“I don’t know, maybe you should,” I replied, laughing.

It was a couple hours later in Mount Pleasant Iowa.  Stan was lost and also trying to look at invoices as he drove.  He was coming up fast on a stop sign. Before I could warn him, he zipped right through it.

“Stan!” I shouted as we rolled through the intersection.

“Oh, no!” Stan declared.

Fortunately there were no other vehicles around.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” Stan said with deep remorse.

“No big deal,” I said. “Nothing happened.”

“No, it is a big deal,” Stan said. “If other people were around, it could have been bad.”

Five minutes later we pulled up in front of the police station.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m turning myself in,” Stan replied.

“For running that stop sign?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“But no one was even around, and you weren’t going very fast.”

“That’s beside the point. I broke the law, and I need to pay my debt to society.”

I sat in the truck dumbfounded as Stan walked toward the police station. Then I realized that I had to see this. I hopped out and jogged up behind Stan.

“Can I help you?” a middle aged dispatch lady asked us as we entered the building.

“Yes,” Stan replied. “I’d like to turn myself in for running a stop sign.”

“You ran a stop sign?” she asked casually.

“Yes, about ten minutes ago,” Stan answered. “I wasn’t paying attention and I ran the stop sign at second avenue and forth street.”

“Let me get an officer,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Two officers returned with her.  One of them had sergeant strips, and he was the one who spoke to Stan.  Stan repeated what he told the dispatch lady.  The two officers looked at each other, both of their mouths twitched with suppressed grins.  I wondered if they were contemplating a drug search.

“Well,” the sergeant began. “Thank you for your honesty.  It seems that you learned a lesson, though.  I think that we can let you go with a warning.”

“Thank you,” Stan said.

“You’re welcome,” the sergeant replied.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

“Yes,” the sergeant said.

“God bless you,” Stan said.

“Have a nice day,” the sergeant said. “Be safe.”

Once we were back in the truck and on our way, Stan began belting out a hymn with as much gusto as an opera singer.

CHAPTER 8

JAKE MEETS LENNY LAKE

At the time I met Mary Gold, I had become a religious skeptic, but not a spiritual skeptic. I have always believed in God, but I haven’t always known what to believe.  As a boy, I started out Catholic, but when I was around nine or ten my parents joined a Fundamentalist Protestant church.  I attended this church until my embarrassing incident with the Baumgartner family.  

Once my poor judgement became known, I was too humiliated to attend our church any longer. In the community though, specifically among my peers, the rumor was that Mr. Baumgartner caught his daughter and me in the act of intimacy.

Although this was not true, I did nothing at the time to correct the misconception. I figured I would let Heather do that. But for some reason she didn’t! So rather than keep a stoic silence with my friends, I did a little embellishing. Which means, the truth is I lied.

I now admit this to my shame, but I was eighteen and my buddies viewed me as some type of hero. This gossip also made me desirable to the undesirable class of female for some reason. The kind of girl you wouldn’t take home to meet your mother. So I tried to keep my distance. But I also kept a condom in my wallet in case the mood and opportunity coincided. Thankfully it didn’t.

The biggest surprise was Heather herself. She had been cold and hostile toward me after the incident, which was understandable. What I didn’t understand was her not setting the record straight herself. Did she still like me? We had even expressed loving each other several times. Would she still see me in secret despite risking the wrath of her father?

I had to find out. So I approached her when I saw her alone at her locker. “Hi Heather, can we talk for a minute?” I meekly asked.

“I can’t talk to you,” she replied cooly, but didn’t walk away. She just stood there hugging her notebooks. Her face was a blank mask as she gazed steadily into my eyes. Given what had happened, my toes curled. But she wasn’t mad, she didn’t appear sad, nor did she seem glad that I wanted to talk to her. She just waited on my next words, even though she declared she couldn’t talk to me.

“How come…” I began before pausing briefly. “You haven’t set the record straight? I mean… You know what people are saying.”

She shrugged. We had been a couple for two years. Maybe she wanted people to think she wasn’t… a what? A prude? A religious zealot? Or maybe she wanted people to think she was just one of the girls having fun with her boyfriend? “Why haven’t you?” she asked.

Now I shrugged. “I guess, since I’m an outcast at our church, I want them to think we, um, well, you know.”

I noticed her jaw tighten. “Maybe I should set the record straight then.”

I nodded. “If you do, I’ll acknowledge the truth.”

Now I noticed a little smile play at the corners of her mouth. Then to my surprise, she winked and began to walk away. I caught her by the hand, stopping her. I noticed we had gained a subtle audience, a mix of her friends and mine who didn’t hide their interest, but respectfully kept their distance. I spoke with my voice low. “Heather, if your parents hadn’t come home, would you have…?”

“You’ll never know, will you?” she replied with a coy smile.

“When I told you I loved you, I meant it,” I said.

“Me too,” she replied matter of fact. However, her face was a blank mask once again. But she did give me a quick kiss on the lips before walking out of my life forever. That kiss only added to the gossip.

In the months before Mary Gold and I started seeing each other, Heather was on my mind quite a bit. Two things played over and over in my mind. When she said “can’t” talk to you rather than ‘didn’t want to.’ Also, “you’ll never know.”

Ultimately, I’m glad how things turned out. Mary Gold is much better suited for me than Heather would have been. Yet when I found out how Heather’s life turned out, I once again felt guilt about the incident and the role I might have played.

Yet strangely, that would mean I would have ended up with Heather rather than Mary Gold. I would also have been a part of the rigid church we grew up in, rather than the Spirit filled church Mary Gold introduced me to. I’ll never forget that first day going to worship service with my future wife.

Mary Gold’s church was a quaint brick structure near downtown Cedar Rapids.  She was right about the members. Although she warned me there were some bad apples in her congregation,  I was truly amazed with the many relaxed, friendly people.  Even when I met Leonard Lake, he was pleasant and charming.  Mary and I were chatting casually with a pleasant, elderly couple when Lenny and his wife approached us.

“Well, hello Mary,” Lenny said, grabbing her hand and giving it several quick pumps.

I instantly noticed that Mary Gold’s smile went from bright and genuine to forced.

“Hello, Lenny,” she said.  Then she turned to Lenny’s wife and shook her hand. “Hello, Delores.”

Delores reminded me of someone that might have attended my previous church. She was a handsome woman with short blonde hair and close set blue eyes. But her sharp facial features tapered to a mouth that looked like it had bit into a lemon, and her eyes scanned about critically.

Lenny had slicked back salt and pepper hair, intense brown eyes, and a bulbous nose, above a smarmy grin. “So who’s your strong looking male companion?” Lenny asked Mary Gold.

What an odd choice of words, I thought.  He looked at me like he had an ulterior motive, and I believe he did. He gazed into my eyes, like a used car salesman longing to make the sale.

“This is Jake Weston,” Mary Gold told the Lake’s.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Delores said, eyeing me skeptically, then glancing at Mary Gold. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Mary Gold looked startled. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. I mean he’s a friend and he’s a boy.  Well actually he’s a man, but he’s not, you know, my boyfriend so to speak. But we are friends! You know, platonically speaking.”

Delores looked relieved and I felt a little irritated.

“Glad to meet you, Jake,” Lenny said, shaking my hand.  He held it about ten seconds too long and almost seemed to pull me toward himself.

“Nice to meet you both,” I said.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, how about you?”

“I’m doing fantastic, other than a bit of hemorrhoidal itch,” Lenny said with a wink and a chuckle.

Delores pursed her lips even more if possible and frowned. Mary Gold’s eyes widened in mild shock and her mouth gaped. I was a little taken aback but laughed none the less.

“So what do you do, Jake?” Lenny wanted to know.

I told him my plans, and he told me about his produce business.

“I could use a good part time driver and laborer,” Lenny said.

I nodded. “Yeah, I might be interested.”

I glanced at Mary Gold and then had to do a double take.  She was staring at me with wide, straining eyes with a frozen smile on her face.  She almost appeared to be shaking her head, even though it was perfectly still.  Later she advised me not to work for Lenny. She said that she knew of a couple people from church that had worked for him, and he was completely different from how he was at church.  At church he appeared a cheerful, loving Christian.  At his business he was a greedy tyrant.

But the set up that Lenny was offering seemed like it would work well for me until I was full time at UPS.  I assured Mary Gold that my previous church experience would have prepared me to deal with Lenny.  At least I was partially right.

At the start of the church service, the Pastor read some announcements.  Lenny Lake read a few Bible passages, and then Lenny, the Pastor, and another man knelt in front of the congregation to lead in an opening prayer.  I noticed Delores trying to signal Lenny about something. It looked like she was making a zipping gesture. Then I noticed Lenny fly was wide open. He seemed to not understand what his wife was communicating. But I was wrong.

We all knelt, bowed our heads, and prayed.  When the prayer was over, we sat back in the pews.  I was barely seated when I noticed Lenny waddling and stumbling around the podium. Apparently when heads were bowed during the prayer, Lenny had zipped his necktie into his pants. Snickering and then laughter erupted all around us.  I contributed to this amusement to the point that tears leaked from my eyes and my stomach hurt.

That was my first encounter with Lenny Lake. Fortunately the rest of the day was uneventful.  The Pastor’s sermon dealt with the subject of hellfire, and he gave a lot of scriptural evidence that there is no eternally burning hell. He coupled this with the state of the dead, turning us to numerous Bible verses as well.

He pointed out that when a person dies, it is basically like being asleep until the resurrection at Jesus’s second coming.  I was fascinated by his sermon, because the thought of a loving God burning people someplace forever had always troubled and confused me.  To learn that hellfire was an event rather than a place made better sense.  I now saw it as similar to the flood during Noah’s time, only the earth would be destroyed by fire rather than water.

I found out later that he was inspired to speak on that subject that day for my benefit. Apparently, Mary Gold had told him that I was coming that day and she knew from our conversations that the topic of hellfire troubled me.  I had heard so many fire and brimstone sermons that she was having a hard time convincing me that I was misguided. But between her teachings and this powerful sermon, I was beginning to see the light.

Mary Gold and I went out to dinner that night.  There was nothing of significance to report.  We even just shook hands at the end of the evening.  From this point on, she and I would become best of friends. We seemed to put romance on hold, even as it simmered in the back of our minds.  But things would change in nine months on her twenty-first birthday as a matter of fact.  It wasn’t without a huge, uncomfortable wrinkle that was unknown to me in the moment.

I had only worked at Lake Produce a couple days when I noticed that Lon had the biggest coffee mug I had ever seen. Lon had sent Mervin on an errand to buy some jugs of bleach, and he and I were alone. In order to make conversation with the rather quiet leader of the sprout room, I commented on his coffee mug.

“It actually holds a pot of coffee,” he told me.

“I believe it.”

“I drink at least two, sometimes three a day.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not. I used to drink four a day. But I cut back, I was too jittery.”

“Imagine that. No wonder you make so many trips to the restroom.”

“Well, I need it,” he explained. “I was in a really bad accident 15 years ago. I was in a coma for almost a week. I made a good recovery, but ever since I’ve been prone to seizures. I have to take this medication that makes me kind of sleepy. So this coffee keeps me going.”

“What happened with the accident?”

“I was hit head on by a drunk driver on a highway south of town,” he told me. “The funny thing was I lived outside of Cedar Rapids, and was driving into town to meet some friends. When I was getting ready at home and brushing my hair, I heard a woman’s voice say ‘don’t go.’ I was alone and thought I was hearing things, so I ignored it. Then I heard it again even louder. This time it creeped me out. But instead of listening to it, I just left in a hurry.”

“Did you hear it after you left?”

“Nope. But if I ever hear that voice warning me again, I’ll obey. You see, that was the last thing I remember about that night, leaving my bedroom in a hurry. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”

“Wow!”

Lon reached for his bucket of coffee and took a swig. No sooner had he set it down, when the door burst open. Mervin seemed to fly into the room. He heaved one of the jugs of bleach onto the table with such gusto, he lost his grip. The wayward jug bounced and rolled right into Lon’s tank of coffee. It shot to the floor, the entire contents spilling.

“Oops,” Mervin replied as he looked at the mess with hands on his hips. Lon gazed at him both patiently and menacingly. “Do you want me to go to the convenience store and refill it?”

“I’ll do it,” Lon said. Then imitating Laurel and Hardy, he continued. “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

CHAPTER 7

JAKE

My plan to distance myself from Mary Gold didn’t go as I intended, just the opposite as a matter of fact.  The next day I woke up from an afternoon nap just in time to see Mary Gold get home from work.  I needed to get on my motorcycle and leave before Mary Gold could change clothes and come outside.  I drank a glass of water, brushed my teeth quick, combed my hair, threw on my shoes, and dashed out of the back door.  I snuck around front where my cycle was parked.

Mary Gold was sitting on her front steps wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  She was putting on shoes and socks, stopping to wiggle all of her right hand’s fingers at me.  I waved back and started my bike.  As I maneuvered my motorcycle down the driveway, I noticed Mary Gold watching me with something like longing in her countenance.  

I was just going to leave without asking her if she wanted to come since she didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going.  But she looked a little lonely. That was her problem, so I tried to ignore her. I made a left turn onto the road and went about fifty feet when my cycle suddenly turned into Mary’s driveway.  What was it doing? Did I turn it that way?

“Wanna go for a ride?” I heard myself ask.

“Sure,” she said, smiling brightly as she bounced toward me and climbed on behind me.  She placed her hands in the bad spot again, just above my hips and it tickled.

“Mary, remember? Don’t put your hands there,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said, then purposely wiggled her fingers into my sides causing extreme ticklishness to occur.  I squirmed and shot off of my seat as she giggled.

“Mary, don’t do that!” I said, laughing despite myself.  “Look Mary, now you’re gonna make me not trust you to hold on to me.  You don’t want to make the guy driving a motorcycle jumpy, do you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, looking at me all wide eyed and innocent.

She could have gotten away with murder as a kid. Yet I would bet anything that she was the sweetest, most well behaved child ever. Maybe.

“You better not,” I said, staring her down.

She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress a grin.  I wondered if she knew how adorable she looked, like a living, breathing precious moment’s figurine. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch, and bit down on my tongue before I exposed my own grin.

“Cross my heart,” she said, making an x across her chest with a finger.

I took Mary Gold to see more flowers. This time it was Noelridge Park. She walked around in admiration of the colorful plants, and I strolled along admiring her. So why was there a part of me that wanted to distance myself from this captivating beauty? It must have been good reasoning. The side me that was infatuated with her could bring trouble. When she had checked out every garden bed, we found a bench and sat.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss quick, if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Sure, what’s up?” she replied.

“I love what a straight shooter you are with things.  It makes for good communication,” I told her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’ll be honest,” I said.  “After our conversation last night, before we parted ways, I was a little freaked out.”

“How come?” she asked, frowning.

“It just troubled me a bit that the subject of marriage came up with a gal I had only known for half of a day.”

Much to my relief, she laughed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I guess I’m just neurotic. It just seems like in the dating world these days that in general guys seem to think they should be able to take a girl to bed after a few dates.  I just feel the need to be upfront about how that is not going to be the case with me.  Do you know what I mean?  I don’t want a guy to invest or waste even one day of time or money dating me without him knowing full well that he will not be getting sex until we are married. I will only marry a Godly man, or I’ll choose to be a spinster if necessary.”

Mary Gold seemed so incredibly wholesome to me, that even hearing her say the word sex made me a little uncomfortable. Could I be a Godly enough man for Mary Gold?  I thought of all the flaws in my character and felt unworthy.

“I admire that,” I told her.

Mary Gold shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I really like spending time with you,” I said.

“And I, you,” she said.

“So, would you be okay if we were just friends, then?” I asked.

Her smile seemed almost forced as she said, “That’s the way it should be.”

“Well, good,” I said, dumbly.

“So does this mean you’re not taking me out to dinner?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll still take you to dinner,” I said.  “Friends have dinner together, don’t they? Then maybe you can buy me dinner.”

“I’d be glad to,” she with a coy smile, causing my forehead to form a puzzled frown.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“No,” she replied matter of fact.

I looked at her a little surprised, my puzzled frown deepening. She giggled and gave me a poke in the ribs with a sharp fingernail.  Being highly ticklish, I jolted. Although laughing, I barked, “Stop it!”

She ignored my demand, and went for second stab. I grabbed her hand and held it. Now we both became still, and our grins morphed into a serious gaze as our eyes locked. Were we really gonna be just friends? What was this strange attraction we found ourselves in? What were the obstacles? She swallowed, licked her lower lip. “What did you want to ask me?”

I let go of her hand as if it were hot. I looked at her moist lips for a second too long. I recalled my experience with Heather Louise Baumgartner, and our church’s strong admonition that we court, and ultimately marry from within. Perceiving that Mary Gold’s church was also very conservative, I paused. “Mary, doesn’t your church require that you only marry a fellow believer, a fellow member?”

“Yes,” she replied, and then tilted her head as if to ask, what’s your point?

“Well, we can never be more than friends then,” I told her.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t belong to your church,” I said with a little bit of a sarcastic chuckle.

“Not yet.”

“Not ever,” I blurted, irritation rising with at her presumption.

“I beg to differ.”

This reply should have caused my irritation to increase. But she had such a pleased look on her face, even kind of silly. My irritation actually left, and I felt myself smile as I simply said, “Is that right?”

“Yes,” she answered with a single nod and then a quick lick of her upper lip. Was she trying to look adorable, or did she just come naturally? The sun made her auburn hair shine, and her green, gold flecked eyes sparkle. But I was strong willed, holding onto my good judgement rather than my desire.

“I beg to differ. Would you care to explain?”

“Well, I feel like we’ve established the beginning of a friendship, don’t you?”

“I do.”

She smiled coyly, biting her lower lip. When I said I do, it instantly reminded me of a marriage vow. I perceived that she was thinking the same thing. I arched an eyebrow and said, “What?”

“What, what?”

“Never mind,” I said. “So we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I’ll become a member of your church.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What, are we in a comedy routine, or something? Tell me why being friends with you will cause me to become a member of your church.”

“It’s simple. We will have plenty of conversations as friends and neighbors. I can tell you are a seeker of truth. I’m passionate about God and His inspired Word, the Bible. So wahla!”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that it isn’t that simple. Yes, I suppose I am a seeker to understand my existence and the meaning of life. But I’ve already ruled out one phase, and that’s dogmatic, legalistic, religion with their fire and brimstone God that punishes with eternal torment just for not believing in him, or bowing down to him. Been there, done that!

“I don’t believe in that God either,” she replied.

“I thought you said you are a Bible believer.”

“I am, absolutely.”

“Well, I’m no Bible scholar, but I’ve been through it, and heard countless sermons about hell with all the time I spent in church as a youth. I know for a fact that it says the wicked will be destroyed with eternal punishment.”

“Punishment, not punishing,” she replied. Then she quoted a dozen scriptures. She recited which book of the Bible, along with chapters and verses, just from memory. In a nutshell, she proved that the wicked die eternally, and the hellfire at the end of time ends when all the wickedness is burned up.

In other words, hell is an event, not place. The world was destroyed by flood the first time. It will be by fire the last time. Then the Lord will make all things new, and it will be perfect. See the last two chapters of the book of Revelation.

We were so engrossed in our discussion, we both had been leaning forward, elbows on our knees, slightly turned toward each other. When Mary Gold concluded our Bible study with no Bibles, she leaned back on the bench, and crossed one leg over the other. There were holes in the knees of her jeans. As I gazed at the lovely kneecap protruding from the denim, I figured the tear in the material was acquired by much prayer.

Despite this thought, I spontaneously clutched her knee with the tips of my fingers and thumb. She shrieked, and then began a little jig on the bench, squirming, wiggling, and grabbing at my hand to free it from her ticklish knee. I cackled maliciously, increasing my grip.

“Please, stop,” she both laughed and whined.

“Do you promise not to tickle my ribs me anymore?”

“Sort… of,” she gasped. I increased the grip a little more. “Yes, yes, please, yes!”

I let go, and her cute face scrunched hideously as she jammed fingers into my arm pits.

“Yeeeeeeee!!!!!” I bellowed. My ribs weren’t the only ticklish spot on me. I grabbed both of her wrists as she giggled. I scolded her as I let go, “You promised!”

“I promised not to tickle you here,” she said as a finger darted toward my ribs. Even though she stopped short, I jolted.

I grabbed the wrist attached to the offending hand and pulled her toward me. Both of us were grinning, our faces inches apart, I muttered, “I oughta…”

I paused, almost kissing her. But she spoke, and my boldness dissipated. “You oughta come to church with me.”

“Okay,” I heard myself say. Even as I inwardly kicked myself, I asked. “When?”

“Saturday at nine,” she said. “You can ride with me.”

“Saturday? Are you Jewish?”

“I’m a Christian. A Seventh Day Adventist to be specific.”

“So why Saturday?”

“It’s the Biblical Sabbath of creation, and the fourth commandment of the ten instituted at Mount Sinai.”

“But all Christians keep Sunday.”

“I beg to differ. There are Seventh Day Baptists, The Church of God Seventh Day, and The Worldwide Church of God, just to name a few of the most prominent.”

Another Bible study ensued from Mary Gold’s uncanny memory and intellect. She almost had me convinced. The next day, I consulted a pastor at a Cedar Rapids church similar to the one I grew up in. When I ran the Sabbath question by him, he assured me that the Sabbath was changed to Sunday in honor of the resurrection.

I’d like to tell you that I went boldly back to Mary Gold with my findings. But I also inquired about an eternally burning hell. His argument was flimsy compared to Mary’s belief with only a fraction of scripture to support it. The passages he did use had already been refuted by Mary the previous day. I didn’t want to argue with him, but ironically, I wanted to set Mary Gold straight about the Sabbath, even though she seemed more astute than the pastor I talked to.

“We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection,” I told her as we took seats on my grandparent’s back deck. Then I frowned at myself. Who’s we? I hadn’t been to church in months.

“Is that right?” Mary Gold asked. “What led you to this conclusion?”

I told her about my visit with the pastor just an hour earlier.

“Can you excuse me for a minute?” she said, and then ran clumsily through the yard and over to her house, lifting her yellow sundress up past her knees as she did so. She was wearing flat sandals and one flew off causing her to stumble. She placed it back on her foot, deciding to just walk briskly. She returned with a well-worn Bible and handed it to me. “Can you show me just one text he shared with you where the Sabbath was changed?”

“Um, he, ah…” I began, and just stared at her.

“Can I show you something?” Mary Gold asked as she opened her Bible to the book of Acts. She showed me several verses where the apostles went to synagogue on the Sabbath. “Why did the apostles still keep the Sabbath instituted at creation if it was changed because of the resurrection? Jesus had already ascended to heaven.”

“I… Um… don’t know.”

“Do you know when the tradition of Sunday keeping began?”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“It became prominent in the 4^th century when the Roman Emperor Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. It was during this time that many pagan rites were brought into the church of Rome. The biggest was paganism’s venerable day of the Sun. Human reasoning over Biblical truth prevailed. With the change, instead of worshiping the sun god, they supposedly were honoring the Son of God.”

“Does it really matter what day we keep though? God made all the days of the week.”

“Well, the way I see it. The fourth commandment is the one out the ten that recognizes God as the Creator. It’s the one He made Holy. He did not make any of the other six Holy. God does not change, so no human being has the right to change it for Him. The book of Daniel 7:25 even predicted this would happen around six hundred years before Christ walked the earth.”

“So why did God let it happen?”

“Man has free will,” Mary Gold said with a shrug. “And unfortunately sinful natures. Throughout the Bible, notice that it’s usually only a minority that truly follow God. Jesus warns of this very thing in Matthew 7:13 and 14.”

This was all too much information for my feeble brain. But I was intrigued. Thankfully, I put my pride aside, and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I began to absorb the truths Mary Gold shared with me. I also let her take me to church.

I was about to take my first step starting at Lake Produce, because Leonard “Lenny” Lake attended Mary Gold’s church. I was about to meet him for the first unforgettable time.

(For an in-depth study of the Biblical doctrines brought up, please check out Amazing Facts ministry. They have excellent Bible study guides. Or you can simply watch insightful videos they have posted on YouTube.)

CHAPTER 6

I went home and put the wheel on Mary Gold’s car. I read for a couple hours, had lunch, took a little nap, and decided to go for a motorcycle ride. When I returned home around four, Grandma informed me that Mary had been over at a quarter after three, very thankful and wondering how much she owed. Grandma told her that Ned didn’t charge us anything, but she insisted that she wanted to give me ten dollars. Then Grandma pulled a ten dollar bill out of her purse.

“Grandma!” I said. “You didn’t take it?!”

“No, dear, this is mine. You deserve it for being so kind, though.”

“No, Grandma, thanks. That’s alright.”

“Here, take it.”

“No, Grandma.”

“Take it, use it to buy gas.”

“Oh, alright, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I sort of had a rule, after two refusals always accept on the third insist. If it was Mary, though, I would have overruled her insistence no matter how long it took.

After supper, I decided to go on another motorcycle ride. I had it parked in front of the house and when I was saddling up, Mary came across the yard carrying a plate of cookies.

“Hi,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. I felt my heart rate increase, and I was surprised at how I was both delighted and a little frightened to speak with her again.

“I tried to give your grandmother some money to give to you for helping me, but she said that you would be insulted.”

“I would have,” I replied as I stopped myself from winking.

“Would you be insulted if I offered you a batch of chocolate chip cookies? They’re right out of the oven.”

“Not at all, you’d be a girl after my own heart,” I blurted, suddenly feeling like I was being too forward. She blushed and looked a little uncomfortable.

“Let’s go get some milk and have some,” I said quickly.

“Oh, I probably better go,” she said even quicker.

“Ah, come on,” I said, doing my best to give a friendly, yet charming smile.

Her shy smile slowly returned. “Okay.”

Over the next twenty minutes I found out quite a bit about her. She turned twenty years of age back in May. She worked around thirty hours a week at Peterson’s. She was taking nursing classes, and she wanted to work in a nursing home because she had a special place in her heart for the elderly. She grew up in the country near the Amana Colonies, although on an acreage rather than a farm like me. Her father and mother divorced about six years ago. And lastly, she was a devout Christian. After we shared the basics with each other, she stood abruptly.

“Well, I better let you get going,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get running at the mouth.”

I stood. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She frowned. “When I came over, you were getting on your motorcycle.”

“Oh, I was just going for a ride, no place in particular. Would you wanna go for a ride with me?” I asked, casually.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes getting wide with surprise.

“Sure.”

Her face filled with delight and she put a hand on her chest almost a little breathless. I felt quite pleased with myself.

“I’ve never had a motorcycle ride,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“You’ve never had a motorcycle ride?”

“Never even sat on one,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m glad you’re going with me,” I said. “One thing though. Do you ever wear pants?”

She glanced down at her dress. It was the same one that she had on this morning.

“Oh sure,” she said. “I’ll go home and change. I’ll be quick.”

“No hurry,” I said, but she was out the door so fast I don’t know if she even heard me.

MARY GOLD

I sprinted home in anticipation.  Jake had just asked me to go on a motorcycle ride with him! I needed to change clothes fast.  I didn’t want to keep him waiting. My mind was reeling; it was churning in a confusing combination of excited and panicked. I shouldn’t have felt worried; I didn’t stand a chance with a man that gorgeous. But why was he so nice to me? He seemed like such a gentleman. And so far, I hadn’t seen him with any girls.  He was always coming and going on his motorcycle by himself.

Even though I was in a hurry, once I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, I knelt and prayed. I was and still am a Christian, and I take my faith very seriously. I made a promise to God that I would save myself for marriage no matter what. By this vow, I meant to be celibate.

However, my stance seemed in vain. Guys weren’t exactly beating down the door to ask me out. I’d never had a guy try to kiss me, let alone, well, you know. In high school guys not only didn’t ask me to homecoming and prom, they teased and made fun of me because I wore long skirts or dresses most of the time.

As I prayed, I asked that God would be with Jake and me on the ride, leading and guiding our conversation. After closing the prayer, I hurriedly grabbed a pair of socks, snagged my sneakers, and dashed out of the door. I ran across the Krause’s lawn barefoot as Jake sat on his motorcycle waiting for me.

“Sorry,” I almost shouted.

Jake laughed, and I hoped that it was more of the laugh with you than at you.

“You apologize a lot when there’s no need,” he said.

“Sorry. I mean, you’re probably right,” I said.

I sat on the Krause’s front steps to put on my socks and shoes. I cringed when I realized in my haste I had grabbed multicolored knee highs, instead of the plain white gym socks I had intended. What was I, a teeny bopper?

When I stood up, Jake was staring at me as if in a trance. At first, I was thinking that he thought I was quite the loser. Like I might say, wait minute, I forgot my teddy bear. But then we had this moment where time seemed to stand still as we looked into each other’s eyes. It was in this moment that I perceived that the attraction was mutual. Maybe.

“Ready?” Jake asked, snapping us back to reality.

“Sure,” I replied.

He fired up the bike, and I climbed on behind him. I placed my hands on Jake’s waist just above his hips. He tensed then squirmed a little bit.

“Mary?” he said.

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty ticklish.  Could you either hold on fully around my waist or hold on to the sissy bar?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” I replied.

I know this sounds prudish, but fully around the waist seemed too intimate for a first date. I mean ride. So I tried the sissy bar instead. But before we even left the driveway, I could tell the sissy bar wasn’t nearly as secure as around the waist.

“Jake, would you mind if I held on around your waist?” I asked.

“Not at all, it’s safer,” he said. “Also, you can wear these.”

He handed me sunglasses, and I put them on and he put some on.  He took us on a road that curved along with the river.  There was water on one side of the road and trees on the other.  As we cruised along with me blissfully clinging to his back side, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to cuddle with this man.  Not only that, what if he fathered my children one day?  A girl can dream, can’t she?  That simple joy ride was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life. It’s one of those special memories a person loves to visit it the mind’s eye.

JAKE

Mary Gold came bounding out of her front door, wearing faded blue jeans and a pink T-shirt that said life is good in blue and yellow lettering.  She had a pair of tennis shoes in one hand and rainbow colored socks in the other.  She came loping across the lawn looking like she could stumble and fall with each step; it made me both cringe and chuckle.

She sat on the steps.  As she covered her feet with the striped socks, I recalled something my brother once told me about the physical differences between guys and gals.

“It starts with the feet,” my brother Justin said.  “Female feet are so much better than males that not only do they paint their toenails, they accentuate them with high heels.  It only goes up and even better from there.  Shoot, I even want to hide my ugly, big feet with the knobby toes, pubic-like hair and callouses.”

 Mary Gold sucked on her lower lip as she tied her shoes.  It had a hypnotic effect on me. When she stood, the sunlight glistened on her moist lip.  It looked so soft, luscious, and sensual.  When our eyes met, there was an unspoken communication that passed between us about mutual attraction. Yet there was still guardedness on both of our demeanors.

When we were on the motorcycle getting ready to leave, she placed her hands on my sides, just above the hips.  I had never given a female a ride on my cycle before.  Heather Louise Baumgartner’s parents forbid her to ride on one.  Anyway, I’m rather ticklish when you touch my sides.  So I asked her to either wrap her arms around my waist or hold on to the sissy bar.  I was disappointed when she chose the sissy bar, and then smiled to myself when she changed her mind before we even left the driveway.

Even though we were just on a joy ride, I had a destination in mind.  Since she and her sister were both named after flowers, and there were also plenty of flowers around her house, I had a sneaking suspicion that Mary Gold liked flowers.  I took her to Ellis Park by the Cedar River, where I knew that there was a huge flower garden.  Much to my delight she absolutely loved it!

“Look at those roses!” she said, making her wind tangled hair into a ponytail with her hand and sniffing.

As I watched her, I realized that I was holding my breath.  What was it about Mary Gold that had me so captivated?   I wasn’t like this with Heather Louise Baumgartner.  Yet if Mary and Heather were walking down opposite sides of the street, dressed identically, nine out of ten guys would look at Heather over Mary Gold.

Mary was graceful, yet slightly clumsy. She was girlish, yet had a maturity beyond her years.  She was cute and beautiful, but kind of nerdy.  She seemed so nervous and insecure.  But in reality she had a faith that could move mountains.  She had a peace and a trust in Christ that could calm a tempest.

Mary Gold and I sat on a bench at the flower garden and talked for almost two hours. Any awkwardness from having newly met and being attracted to each other was gone, at least temporarily. Our conversation mostly centered on our childhoods, and concluded with God and religion. Our core beliefs were the same, but in that moment, it actually troubled me. You see, I had become disgruntled with the church I grew up in and saw it as a group of legalistic Pharisees.

Not only was I ostracized by the Baumgartner family, my own parents seemed to side with them. While they claimed love and forgiveness, they couldn’t hide their disappointment with me, and even went before the congregation and apologized for my behavior because I refused. Being eighteen, I told them I was no longer going to attend. This actually seemed to please them, which was ironic after all the years of being required to attend twice a week and sometimes three.

While it hurt at the time, hindsight is better than foresight. The simple truth was that I not only exercised poor judgement by having a condom while courting Heather, I also got caught in a most humiliating fashion.

But while there was a congregation of people that viewed me as a trouble making pervert, my own parents included, there was a group of people that saw me as a bold hero. That would be my brother and my male peers. Thankfully, no one outside of the small community I called my hometown knew of the fiasco, including my grandpa and grandma Krause.

I changed the subject with Mary Gold, pointing to an amazingly colorful sky. She and I then watched the beautiful lavender and pink colors of the sunset in silent awe.  It was a nice balm after a mostly pleasant, but by times tense conversation.  I couldn’t shake feeling kind of bad, though. She was so positive and upbeat while I was rather negative about my fellow man and religion.

It was mostly dark when we arrived back at home. I parked my motorcycle and walked her to her door.

“Thanks for the ride. It was really fun,” Mary Gold said, smiling sweetly.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve really got a grip on spiritual things.  You inspire me.”

She truly was an inspiration. There was something warm and sparkly about Mary that was different from the icy cold demeanor of Miss Baumgartner. To Heather’s credit, she was just reflecting the attitude of her family, not to mention the church we grew up in.

Right then it occurred to me. If Heather reflected the overall attitude of our church, just maybe, Mary Gold reflected hers. Or maybe hormones were clogging my reason.

Mary Gold’s face was aglow with her beautiful big green eyes shining in the moon light.

“Thank you. You inspire me, too,” she said.

“I do?  I feel kind of bad for how negative I was by times.”

“It’s understandable, considering what you’ve told me about your church experience.”

I didn’t even tell her about “The Great Condom Fiasco.” Man, how could I ever explain that to this angel?

“Would you want to go out for dinner Friday or Saturday night?” I heard myself ask.

 To my surprise and disappointment, the radiant smile and glow from her eyes disappeared. They were replaced with something like fear and regret.

MARY GOLD

He asked me out on a date! For some reason I wasn’t at all prepared for this. I guess I showed it because his face fell seconds after mine.

“Yes, I’d love to,” I said, touching his arm, trying to redeem the awkwardness that had just transpired.

“Great,” he said uncertainly. “How about Saturday?”

“Saturday evening?”

“Yes.”

“This coming Saturday evening?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds great then!” I said with a big smile.

He relaxed a little. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I replied. “Thanks again.”

“Thank you,” he said, then turned and walked away.

My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest as I thought about my promise to God and vow of chastity.

“Jake,” I heard myself say.

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I have something that I need to tell you,” I said walking toward him.

“Okay,” he said, looking at me with those warm eyes in a handsome face with granite like features. At this moment I had a glimpse of understanding on how a woman could be intimate with a man she just met. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closed my eyes, and said a little prayer.

JAKE

Mary pinched her nose and bowed her head. She seemed to be in some sort of anguish. I was completely dumbfounded, yet concerned.

“Mary, are you okay?”

She looked at me with an expression similar to the face she wore when my grandmother asked me to help her change her flat tire.

“I’m a virgin,” Mary blurted. “And I plan on staying that way until I’m married.”

I was taken by surprise, yet I could feel myself smile on the inside. Mary could be so bumbling and inadequate.  I think most guys couldn’t get away from her fast enough, but I was rapidly thinking that she was the perfect woman for me.  But my feelings for her were happening so incredibly fast that I was also frightened.  Like Mary Gold, I could feel inadequate.  And to be honest, I didn’t know how to respond to what she had just told me, so I tried to joke.

“I see,” I said with a serious face. “Let’s cancel then. I figured if I took you to dinner you’d sleep with me.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Well, I think it would be best if we canceled,” she said. “Goodnight, Mr. Weston.”

She turned abruptly, and began to walk away.  I grabbed her hand, and thankfully, she didn’t resist. “Mary, wait,” I said. “I’m a virgin, too.”

Mary’s eyes were wide again, but this time with curiosity.

“You are?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m all about waiting for marriage. I didn’t mean to make a joke of what you told me. I’ve never met anyone as straightforward as you so I didn’t know how to respond.”

“A great lo…” she began to say, and then bit her lip. Was she about to call me a great loser or great looking? She continued. “I mean, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

I told her about Heather Louise Baumgartner.

“You two sounded pretty serious.  How’d you break up so suddenly?” Mary asked.

The great condom fiasco!  I felt ashamed and was glad it was dark in case my face reddened.

“Can I tell you some other time?  It’s pretty difficult to explain.”

“Of course,” she said.

“It’s hard to believe that we’ve only known each other for only half of a day,” I said.

Mary laughed, “I know, we’ve sure covered a lot of ground. Some of it is pretty awkward stuff.”

I nodded. “We still on for dinner then?”

“Yes, as long as you sleep with me afterward,” she said.

I felt my eyebrows raise and then form a frown as she laughed. “Gotcha.”

I laughed and my hand went to the side of her face.  What was my hand thinking?!  It acted without my approval.  I pulled it away as she looked at me with something like longing.

“Goodnight,” I said.

“Goodnight,” she said.

She turned and moved toward her door.  I turned and started walking to my grandparents’ house.  I paused and stole a quick look her way; she looked my way at the same time.  I felt caught as I smiled and waved.  She smiled and waved back, then disappeared into her house.

When I was home and in bed, reality set in and it freaked me out.  I couldn’t get to sleep. Did the subject of marriage actually come up with a girl I had known for approximately twelve hours?  As much as she intrigued me, I needed to distance myself from Mary Gold.

I already wasted two years of my life, vainly waiting for a ceremony and vows before experiencing intimacy. What was it my brother asked me? You wouldn’t by a car without a test drive, would you? Of course, that question was what motivated me into the condemn fiasco.

On the other hand, I shouldn’t be courting strict religious women anymore, anyhow. I believed in God, but I was rapidly embracing a new age philosophy that viewed sex as an avenue to spiritual growth and fulfillment. Or you could say I was being deceived by the world and the lusts of the flesh.  

But as I lay bed, reasoning with myself rather than God, I decided that Mary Gold was not for me. As intriguing as she was, I WAS NOT going to wait another two plus years to experience sexual gratification with an alluring woman. I would still take Mary Gold out to dinner, per my agreement. But then I would do all that I could to avoid her.

CHAPTER 5

Despite having a gorgeous girlfriend for two years, I’m actually rather shy and tongue tied when meeting attractive females. Although I saw Mary Gold numerous times over the first couple of months living with my grandparents, I couldn’t bring myself to confront her with the charm and wit I thought I had lurking inside me. As neighbors though, we occasionally waved at each other from a distance.

It was a lovely morning in late August when I actually talked with Mary Gold for the first time.  On August 27^th to be exact, and 8:40 a.m. to be precise. My hours at UPS were from 4:30am until around 8:00am, give or take. So on the morning of August 27^th, I was at my grandparents’ house in my room, freshly showered, when I saw Mary Gold walk past my window. Ten seconds later I heard the doorbell. I cracked open my bedroom door to eavesdrop.

“Why, hello, Mary,” I heard my grandmother say.

“Good morning, Maria. Is Fred home?” I heard a sweet, melodic voice ask.

“No, honey, he’s off having coffee with his buddies.  Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I was about to leave for work and discovered that I have a flat tire. I was hoping Fred would show me how to change it, but I guess I’ll have to figure something else out.”

“Wait!” my grandmother replied emphatically. “My grandson’s here.  Let me get him.”

“Oh no, Maria! That’s okay,” Mary Gold said with almost panic in her voice. The sweet melody gone.

My grandmother ignored her plea.

“Jake!” she hollered.

“Maria, please, I’ll manage,” Mary Gold pleaded.

My heart was pounding and I couldn’t move at first as I wondered why she seemed desperate that I not help her. I tried to muster self-confidence by thinking, you were once the boyfriend of the drop dead gorgeous Heather Louise Baumgartner. Then panic returned when I realized Heather probably now considered me a disgusting pervert. But why feel this way? Mary Gold didn’t know my history. Besides, cute as she was, with a nice figure to boot, she seemed to be kind of a clumsy nerd.

“Jacob.”

“Yes, Ma’am?” I replied.

“Could you come here, please?”

I took a deep breath and made my way down the hall.

“Really, Maria, I’ll be fine,” Mary Gold said in a low tone.

I came around the corner, and Mary Gold and I locked eyes close up for the first time. Her large, pretty, naturally long lashed eyes were an amazing green with gold flecks. Actually they still are. But lovely as her windows to the soul were, they looked troubled.

“Jake, you’ve met Mary, haven’t you?” Grandma asked.

I shook my head dumbly.

“Jake, this is Mary Horner and she lives next door. Mary, this is my grandson Jake.  He’s been staying with us this summer.”

I gave Mary Gold my most charming, friendly smile and extended my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” I told her.

Her face relaxed some and she showed me her perfectly white, slightly crooked teeth that were framed with luscious lips that were neither thick nor thin. Her hand was so soft and delicate that I couldn’t imagine a tire iron in it.

Grandma placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dear, Mary has a flat tire on her car.  Do you think you could help her?”

“Sure, I’d be glad to,” I replied.

Mary’s pained expression returned and she nervously rolled her ankles, which to me looked precarious with the two inch heels she wore.  She was also wearing a light blue and purple dress, that looked like it would be a dirt magnet for someone about to remove a tire.

“Sorry,” she told me with such deep regret you might have thought she ran over my dog.  However, I was confident that my dog Rowdy was safe on my parent’s farm.

I placed a reassuring hand on her upper arm. “No worries.  I’m glad to help.  Let’s go have a look.”

She lead me to her driveway and pointed to the rear driver side tire which was completely flat.

“Where do you work?” I asked.

“Peterson’s at Westdale Mall.”

“What time do you have to be there?”

“Well, nine,” she replied, shrugging. “But, a person can’t help it if they have a flat.”

I looked at my watch and saw it was a quarter till nine. My grandparents lived about five, at the most, ten minutes from the mall.

“I tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I give you a ride to work? Then I can take your tire off and take it up to get it fixed. It probably has a nail in it or something. My grandpa has a friend with an auto repair shop just a few blocks away.”

My gaze turned from the tire to her. She was looking at me like I had just told her that I killed her dog. I later found out that she didn’t have a dog.

“Oh no,” she said touching my forearm. “I really don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother.”

“No, really, I mean.”

“I insist. Look, I’ll be bothered if you don’t let me help you.”

Now she looked about to cry. Hopefully with gratitude.

“Okay,” she said, meekly, forcing a smile, and running a hand through her silky, auburn hair.

In my junky old truck, she looked a bit out of place. She was dressed so nice and she was just so feminine. I kept my truck clean, though, even if it had seen better days. On the drive to the mall, our conversation mostly consisted of her either apologizing or thanking me. Once there, I asked her what time I should pick her up.

“Oh, you won’t need to,” she insisted. “A girl that I work with gets done at the same time that I do so it’ll be no problem getting a ride with her.”

Two women walked in front of my truck, staring at us almost rudely. Mary smiled brightly and wiggled her fingers at them. As if a switch was flipped, big smiles appeared on their made up faces and they waved back. Mary thanked me for the millionth time and exited my truck.

Back home, I grabbed Grandpa’s floor jack, a T-bar, and a crowbar. I had the wheel off in no time. As I put the tire in the back of my truck, my grandma approached.

“I called up to Ned’s Repair and told him you’d be bringing Mary’s tire in,” she said.

“Thanks, Grandma.”

I drove the four blocks to Ned’s shop. Grandpa was there, drinking coffee with two of his friends, Fred Bryant and Ted Price. How weird, two Freds and Ted at Ned’s. Ned was under the hood of a 1973 Ford Galaxy 500 that was a gaudy yellow green in color. He took a break from what he was doing to fix the flat that I had brought in.

I glanced at Grandpa and did a double take. He was wearing a knowing smirk. Oh no, Grandpa. I mentally pleaded, don’t start saying “pretty gal isn’t she” in front of your friends. To be honest, up to that point, he hadn’t said anything to me about Mary since that first day when he snuck up on me and whispered in my ear.

“Mary had a flat, huh?” Grandpa said.

“Yeah.”

“Nice of you to help her,” he said.

I shrugged. “No big deal.”

“You put her spare on for her?”

“No.”

“How’d she get to work?”

I cleared my throat. “I took her.”

“You took her?” he said emphasizing you.

“Yes, I took her.” I emphasized I. “In my truck.”

 “Is it clean?”

“Yes, it’s clean.”

“So you took her to work,” he said leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers and placing his hands behind his head.

I didn’t reply.

“Picking her up?”

“No, she’s getting a ride with a lady that she works with.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take Ned very long to fix the tire.

“What do I owe you Ned?” I asked.

“For a man helping a damsel in distress, it’s on the house,” he said with a grin and a wink.

I looked at Grandpa and he winked. So did Fred and Ted. I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks, Ned,” I said as I grabbed the wheel and loaded it onto my truck. As I began to leave, my eye caught a bumper sticker on the Galaxy 500 Ned had been working on. It said, ‘Don’t Mess With Texas.’ I didn’t think much of it at the time. But a few weeks later, I came across, not only the car again, but this time the owner. At, of all places, Lake Produce Inc.

A fellow named Don had started the day after I did at Lake, only he was working through a temp service. He proudly declared to be from, you guessed it, Texas. Don was a couple of inches over five feet tall and suffered from short man’s disease. By this description, I mean he was about as macho acting as a guy can be. He had a major swagger when he walked, and the problem for him was that it was more comical than tough.

He was about forty give or take, mostly bald on top, and had a big comb over going with his greasing brown hair. He was actually on the skinny side, except for a belly that had him looking about six months pregnant. One more thing, Don was the most chronic, exaggerating, and ridiculous liar that I had ever met. That is until a guy named Harold started working at Lake about a year later.

Richard Parker was a gay man who also came to Lake via the same temp service as Don. He was also one of the nicest guys I had ever met, and we remained friends until his death from complications from AIDS in the mid-nineties. Back in the mid-eighties, it was rare to encounter an openly gay man in a smaller midwestern city. At least for this farm boy.

Richard was a good-looking man in his early thirties. He had thick brown hair that he kept styled in a way that reminded me of movie stars from the fifties. Richard was several inches over six feet, so you can probably imagine that he and Don were a pretty odd couple working together. Especially because it was a bit obvious that Richard was gay. Don, in full macho swagger, came right out and asked Richard if he was gay.

“Well, I am happy,” Richard replied.

This reply puzzled Don. It probably goes without saying that Don wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He tried again. “Are you a homosexual?”

With a sultry voice, Richard asked with jest. “How’d you know? Did your gaydar kick in?”

“What’s gaydar?” Don asked with a frown, a dark line of chewing tobacco splitting his chin.

“It’s how you perceived that Richard is gay,” Lon suggested with a smirk. “You know, like radar. It takes one to know one, and you picked up on it.”

Richard and I both chuckled.

“Are you saying I’m queer?” Don squealed with outrage. “Well I’m not. I’ve been with dozens of women. Make that hundreds. Maybe over a thousand. Surely you both picked up that ole Dick here is light in the loafers.”

“Sure,” Lon shrugged. “As soon as he told us.”

This reply had Don squinting at us and scratching his head. Lon put an end to it by sending Don over to work with Mervin.

Working with Richard was uneventful. We had good, interesting conversation throughout the morning. We talked about everything from sports to movies to the many years he lived in New York City. Not surprisingly, Mervin and Don clashed, so we switched again and I was paired up with Don. Oh, happy day.

Don and I got along okay, though. I just had to listen to one ridiculous story and one exaggerated lie after another. Here are a few highlights. He was telling stories about being in the Special Forces in Vietnam. If you could see Don, you would easily know that if he was in the military, it was by the skin of his teeth, let alone being in special anything.

He told me that he once drove from Houston, Texas to Denver, Colorado in two hours. I pointed out that he would have had to have been travelling at over three hundred miles per hour. These logistics seemed to baffle him, so I let it go. So he kept blabbing.

He told me that he was once an assistant coach with the Dallas Cowboys, he was a photographer for Playboy magazine, and he was a bodyguard in Hollywood. Some of the notables he supposedly protected were Loni Anderson, Suzanne Summers, and Sally Fields.

He also survived a one hundred mile an hour, helmetless motorcycle crash with minor cuts and bruises. He was run over by a truck that was going fifty miles an hour. He was once installing a fluorescent light on a wet floor when his wife plugged it in, electrocuting him. He simply untied his melted tennis shoes and stepped out of them.

At the end of the day, when Don might have actually been tired of talking, there was a moment of silence. Out of orneriness, coupled with frustration, I winked at Lon and then stated. “Man, hand gliding would sure take a lot of guts.”

Don looked me square in the eyes and declared, “I’ve done it.”

CHAPTER 4

Mervin was silent all through lunch and I felt bad for my part in his misfortune. When we began working again, with the radio tuned to a rock station, I noticed that Mervin kept glancing at it from time to time. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated all the time. Finally, he slammed down the cup of sprouts he had just weighed and put his hands over his ears. He made something between a groan and a wail. It was high pitched and eerie. When he finished, he put together a string of profanities.

“Lon, can I move that thing?” Mervin asked, pointing at the radio.

“I suppose so,” Lon replied. “What for?”

“Aliens are coming through,” Mervin said matter of fact.

“Sure go ahead,” Lon replied, as if that was a perfectly legitimate reason.

I was a little concerned about my new workplace and my two work companions. Mervin unplugged the radio and took it to a table across the room. As he was plugging it in, Lon looked at me and rolled his eyes. I felt some relief that they both weren’t crazy. Mervin came back over and went to work as if nothing strange had just transpired.

“Aren’t the aliens still getting in?” I asked.

Mervin looked at me as if I was an absolute moron.

“The aliens are everywhere,” he said waving his arms somewhat frantically. “I just don’t want them seeping into my brain.” He tapped both index fingers against both of his temples.

“How far away does it have to be?” I asked. Lon looked at me as if to say ‘please don’t go there because I’ve been down this road before.’

“A minimum of five feet,” he said.

“What’s so special about the radio?” I asked.

He laughed and shook his head like I was just a complete and utter idiot.

“Radio waves are like their highway, man. That’s how they got here in the first place.”

“I see,” I said.

He stared at me with this sinister grin and his eyes looked bizarre, like he was possessed.

“You’re one of them,” he said in almost a whisper. I felt a chill up and down my spine.

I tried to be lighthearted, but it came across as guilty, I think.

“No, I’m not,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

The malevolent, psycho expression he wore disappeared into a somewhat fearful paranoid demeanor. Strangely this change helped me relax a little. It also seemed to put Mervin back in place, and we finished the day as if everything were normal.

The next day began the same way the previous left off, by that I mean the usual. Later, Mervin and I ended up packing alone because they were shorthanded in the tomato room.  It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but we did have an interesting yet bizarre conversation.

“Have you ever noticed,” Mervin asked, “that no matter where you are at, there you are?”

I glanced at him as we worked side by side. He said it like you might say it looks like rain today.

“I have noticed that,” I said, “unless you happen to be two places at once.”

He stopped working and looked at me, completely serious and earnest. Then a crazy, slightly wild look came into his eyes as he smirked a little. I felt a creepy tingle in my spine.

“It happens you know,” Mervin said, sounding a bit like Hannibal Lector.

I admit I was curious, but my better sense didn’t want to go where he was going. I just nodded and kept working. Hannibal, I mean Mervin, continued to stare and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head. It made me wonder if psychic energy was a real thing and if I was in some sort of danger.

“I said that it happens you know,” Mervin said, sounding even more like Hannibal the Cannibal and his eyes seemed to jitter in their sockets.

“How’s that?” I ventured, reluctantly.

“I’ve actually been two places at once.”

I cleared my throat. “Have you?”

“I have,” Mervin replied rather soothingly, considering the menacing look in his eyes. He continued to stare at me and I almost yelled for help. But I also felt like I needed to reply.

“How did you do that, Mervin?” I asked, sounding like Mr. Rogers.

“That’s just it,” Hannibal/Mervin said. “I didn’t do it.”

“I thought you just said that you did?”

Hannibal/Mervin shook his head. “They did it.”

“They who?”

He shook his head and chuckled as if I was the biggest idiot on the planet.

“The aliens,” Hannibal/Mervin said.

Mervin’s face returned to normal, for him anyway, and he went back to work as if that ended the topic of conversation.

“So you were abducted?” I heard my moronic self ask.

Mervin just nodded and worked a little faster.

“How did that make you two places at once?” I asked wondering if curiosity killed more than just cats.

“When they took me, it was an out of body experience,” he said quickly and casually without even looking at me. I was relieved that the maniacal demeanor seemed to have left his multi personal self, so I pressed on.

“What exactly do you mean by out of the body?”

“I saw myself lying in bed when they took me to their Zoltar.”

“What’s a Zoltar?”

“Oh, it’s their space craft,” he said, as if I asked him what a Plymouth was and he said ‘oh a car.’

“So it’s a UFO?” 

“No,” he said with irritation. “It wasn’t an unidentified flying object. I just told you the identity. It was a Zoltar.”

“Right,” I replied, as if what we were talking about was something totally reasonable. “So how was it?”

“Good,” he said, “they treated me very well.”

Mervin didn’t say any more.  He just continued to work. I didn’t know if he didn’t want to say any more or if he wanted me to probe him for more information.

“So what was the Zoltar like?” I inquired.

“Indescribable, their technology is far superior to ours.”

“How many were there?”

“I’m not sure. I personally dealt with only three, but I could tell that there were others around.”

“Were they little green fellows?”

Mervin stopped working and glared at me, the crazy look reappearing in his eyes. I instantly regretted being flippant as well as inquisitive.

“I mean that’s how I’ve seen them depicted,” I said.

“Actually, they were very human,” he said, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Only a little more reptile like than our species.”

“Both human and reptile, how does that work?”

“They had big lizard like tails.” He paused and rubbed his thumbs back and forth across his fingers and grimaced. “Their skin was scaly and gray.”

“Were they like, male and female?”

“Actually they were asexual or androgynous.”

“What did they do with you?”

“Just a bunch of tests, not unlike getting a physical from a doctor. Plus they took a bunch of samples.”

“Samples of what?”

 “Basically fluids like blood, urine, saliva, and semen,” Mervin said, shrugging.

“Semen, how did they get your semen?” I inquired.

Mervin looked startled with the question. His face colored a bit and he began to work faster, ignoring my question. I didn’t want to press him on it and I didn’t know what to say.  We worked in silence for several minutes before he spoke.

“So do you believe me?” He wanted to know.

“I believe you’re being honest,” I said.

He stopped working and turned to face me, wearing a sarcastic smirk.

“You believe I’m being honest, but you don’t believe in aliens, do you?” he said, his Hannibal voice returning, causing the hair on my neck to prickle.

“I believe you experienced what you told me you did, Mervin,” I said sincerely.

“You know, there are countless others who have seen UFO’s and have been abducted like me. What about that?”

“Just like you, I believe people are seeing unexplainable things and experiencing them.”

“So you do believe in beings from other worlds and dimensions?” he asked.

I regretted that I couldn’t help grimacing and shrugging. He slammed his hand on the table.

“What then, if not aliens?” Mervin demanded.

My fear was instantly replaced with anger at Mervin’s crazy manipulative ways.

“Demons,” I said more forcefully than I intended. “I believe that alien activity is demonic deception.  I’m sorry, but that’s my opinion.”

I expected Mervin to respond with anger and hostility.  But he just stared at me wide eyed for a moment, and then nodded.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Well, we’re all entitled to our opinions.”

We worked in silence for a good five minutes before Mervin spoke, seemingly changing our previous topic of conversation.

“Did you and your dad get along?” he asked me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “My dad’s an awesome father.”

“Well, you’re lucky,” Mervin said, part maniacal and part nonchalant.

“Am I?” I asked.

“Yeah, you are,” he replied, his voice rising a bit.

“Did you get along with your dad?” I asked with some regret. 

“I got along with him just fine,” he said, brimming with hostility. “On the rare occasion he participated in my life.”

“Were he and your mother divorced?”

“No, but they probably should have been since they were little more than roommates. He treated my sister and me like we were burdens he had to endure. I think he liked the family dog better than us. At least he didn’t beat us so I guess I should be grateful.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

“What, that he didn’t beat us?”

“No, no, of course not.  I meant that he wasn’t there for you.”

“When I was in high school, I went through a phase where I was really depressed and lacked direction. I asked my dad what the meaning of life was.  Without even looking away from his newspaper, do you know what he said?”

“No clue.”

“He asked, the magazine or the cereal?”

I couldn’t help laughing. Mervin didn’t crack smile, he even seemed to get a little more hostile.

“Oh, you think I’m joking?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, but you have to admit that it’s a little funny.”

“Maybe if he was joking,” Mervin said, using a profanity before each word. “But the sad reality was that he wasn’t joking.”

I think we all have had a moment or moments in our life when we couldn’t help laughing at inappropriate times, and the fact that you shouldn’t be laughing makes you laugh harder for some reason. I was facing that situation with Mervin.  I had it under control, but I was on the verge of losing it completely. Unfortunately Mervin continued to speak.

“I know that might sound trivial.  But if you add it all together, day after day growing up, it warps a guy.”

“I see,” I said, my whole torso quivering and tense from suppressed laughter when I should have been feeling, I don’t know, compassion. Then I had a saved by the bell moment. Right before Mervin and I began our strange conversation, I had just applied K-19, a fertilizer that made bean sprouts plump instead of skinny. After applying K-19, it needed to set for a time before being watered. Mervin said something that broke the damn of laughter being suppressed within my body right when the water system kicked on prematurely in the bean room.

“It leads a guy to believe,” Mervin said, whimsically, “what if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?”

“I need to shut the water off in the bean room,” I said as I dashed away, laughter spewing forth from my mouth as I quickly moved away from him. Once inside the semi darkness of the bean room, laughter came so hard and intense, my gut hurt and tears sprang from my eyes.

“Is everything alright in there?” I heard Mervin ask.

“Yeah,” I said trying to compose myself.

When I came out, my eyes must have showed evidence of the tears that had exuded from my eye sockets.

“Hey,” Mervin said with surprising compassion. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. People grew up with far worse situations than mine. It’s touching how much you care, though.”

I thought that I was all laughed out, but I convulsed a couple more times.

“Easy buddy,” Mervin said, patting and rubbing my shoulder. “There, there.”

That evening when Mary Gold and I went for a walk, I told her about my encounter with Mervin. Then we sat on a park bench and watched a beautiful sunset develop. She looked adorable as she pressed her hands between her knees, aimed her big eyes at me, and with a coy little smile told me it was exactly one month since we actually met for the first time.

A slight misfortune with her car turned out to be a blessing in disguise. For it was a flat tire that brought us together for the first time. Although awkward at first, it finally broke the ice, and put me up close and personal with the “pretty gal.” I had only been admiring her from a far up to that point.

CHAPTER 3

It is funny the different links of circumstances that make up the chain of how things end up. So because of the misunderstanding with my girlfriend’s father, I ended up not going to college and not marrying the lovely Heather Louise Baumgartner. Nor did I go to senior prom for that matter. Instead I decided to move to Cedar Rapids and work at UPS part time with the goal of one day being one of the highest paid delivery people on the road. I know people have had loftier ambitions, but there have been even more people with less initiative.

So right after I graduated high school, in June 1985, I moved in with my grandparents, my mother’s mom and dad. They lived on the west side of Cedar Rapids, only about ten minutes from my job at UPS.  I showed up in my blue 1965 Ford pickup, with my 1981 Yamaha Midnight Maxim motorcycle in the back. My grandpa, Fred Krause, was excited to have me staying with them and greeted me with enthusiasm.

Grandpa was one of my heroes. He was a World War Two veteran and had numerous interesting experiences to share. He liked to talk about not only the war but also life in general.  His stories ranged from growing up in the railroad town of Oelwein to things that happened at work. He was drafted into the Army in April 1941 and was only supposed to be in the service for a year. Then in December there was a day that would live in infamy that kept him in the army until June of 1945. He was overseas in the European theater for three years, one month, and sixteen days in an ambulance division.

“Come here, Jake,” he said grinning, pulling me into a big bear hug.

“Hi Grandpa,” I said, returning my own enthusiastic embrace. I was now considerably bigger than him and he grunted as air whistled from his lungs; I relaxed my hug.

“My word, you’re a strong young man,” he said, still smiling, his new false teeth looking large, too white, and straight gleaming out of his wrinkled face. It looked cartoonish and I began to chuckle. His smile faded a little.

“What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

“Did you get new teeth?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied frowning. “You don’t like them?”

“They just seem kind of, ha ha, big,” I told him. “Your old ones looked so natural.”

“Oh my!” I heard my grandma, Maria, say as she patted her short brown and white hair as she entered the living room. “I didn’t think you were coming until later this afternoon.”

Grandpa pointed his bushy, frowning eyebrows at my grandmother.

“I told you these teeth looked ridiculous,” Grandpa said. “I’m taking them back.”

“You can’t take them back,” she said.

“You should keep them Grandpa,” I said.

“You do like them?” he asked, his bushy brows rising.

“Yeah, they’re funny,” I said.

His bushy brows dropped into another frown and scowl.

Grandma hugged me and I was careful to make sure my return hug was softer than the one I gave Grandpa.

“Why are you so early?” she wanted to know.

I shrugged. “I just figured I’d get here and leave myself plenty of time to get settled.”

“The house is a mess,” she declared. “I was going to clean up after lunch. Well, get your things and come in, at least your room is ready.”

Grandpa helped me carry my things in. We talked a bit while we did. Grandma’s house was immaculate as usual, despite her disclaimer. Unless you consider the book Grandpa was reading sitting nice and square on an end table a mess.

“So you’re starting at UPS Monday?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Good paying job when you’re driving there.”

“Yeah.”

“You really have to go there, you really have to move.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t get in any accidents.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll can ya if ya do.”

“Yeah.”

“Good pay though, when you get on full time.”

“Yeah.”

“How long you plan on staying with us?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Huh? Oh I’m sorry Grandpa. I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. If I hate working at UPS, I might just go to college after all. Or back home and work with Dad.”

“I think you should go to college myself to become a pharmacist.  All they do is count pills. Great pay, too.”

I chuckled. “I think there’s more to being a pharmacist than just counting pills.”

He frowned and waved a hand at me. “You stay here as long as you want to, though. No sense paying for a place when we have plenty of room here. Glad to have you, too.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, giving him an affectionate smile followed by a shoulder pat.

He laughed, putting an arm around my waist and tugging a couple of times.

“You’re a good boy!” he declared.

“You guys are awesome grandparents,” I replied.

I had been unpacking for a while when I realized that I urgently needed to use the restroom. My mother had made a large batch of sun tea, and I filled one of those mini water coolers with plenty of ice and tea. By the time I loaded my truck and drove the forty five miles to my grandparents, it was gone.

My grandparents had two bathrooms. Grandma was taking a shower in the upstairs bathroom. Checking the downstairs bathroom, I was just in time to hear the exhaust fan click on. Grandpa was going to be a while and I was just gonna have to suck it up.

Shortly after I was back in my room, I noticed a white Ford Escort pull into the neighboring driveway. A slender young woman wearing a yellow sundress got out. She had shoulder length, auburn hair, and big almond shaped eyes with a button nose. She looked like a cute doll that came to life. She opened the back door to the car and bent to retrieve something. She bumped her head, stood, and rubbed it for a few seconds. Then she stooped back down, grabbed some bags, and disappeared from view as she headed toward the house.

I put away a few more things and then the young lady was back. Half of her body disappeared into the back seat of the car, then reappeared holding a banana box of which the bottom broke scattering a pile of papers. Good thing it wasn’t windy. She put her hands on her hips and frowned. Then she stepped over the pile and slipped on a bunch of papers. She went down hard on her hands and knees, and I flinched. To my surprise she got up giggling, brushed herself off, and then returned to the house.

I’m not one that believes in love at first sight, but lust at first sight most definitely. I will say this though, as I spied on the young woman who would one day be my wife, and she laughed at her misfortune, I felt something way beyond lust stir. Her wholesome beauty certainly stirred the pot.

She returned with some bags and began gathering the papers. As she bent over a little bit of cleavage appeared. I’m ashamed to acknowledge that I became enraptured with this sight. As a matter of fact, I was in such deep concentration, I didn’t hear my grandfather come bend over me and place his mouth an inch from my head.

“Pretty gal, isn’t she?” his warm breath said into my ear.

Remember that I needed to relieve myself? Well, somewhere between ten or twenty percent came out right then. Not only that, I rammed my head into the windowsill. It was hard enough and we were close enough that the young lady looked in our direction. Thankfully, she went right back to her work.

“Grandpa, what are doing sneaking up on me?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he answered in a louder than normal voice with his old false teeth now in his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” I said, peering outside to see if the young lady heard. She didn’t seem to.

Grandpa gestured his head toward the window and grinned. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

I shrugged, “I suppose.”

The smile left his face. “You and that Heather gal still an item?”

“No,” I said quickly.

Thankfully, he didn’t ask me anymore about it. You know how grandparents can be. Instead he kept his focus on the present.

“You ought to get to know Mary Gold, she’s a sweetheart.

“Her name is Marigold, like the flower?” I asked.

“Well, her first name is Mary, her middle name is Gold,” he told me. “She has an older sister named Lily Rose. I guess their mother, Petunia, loves flowers.”

“Her mother’s name is Petunia!”

Grandpa laughed a deep belly laugh. “I’m just teasing. Her mother’s name is Joyce. Hey, come on and I’ll introduce you.”

“No Grandpa! No thanks, I can meet gals on my own.”

“She’s not a gal,” he said.

“She’s not? Awfully feminine looking dude.”

“I meant she’s your new neighbor.  I’m not trying to set you up or anything. Just getting you a new friend. If someday it goes beyond friend, well…”

I know Grandpa wasn’t lying to me and he was sincere. However, I know in the heat of the moment that he’d say something like, “Jake here is an eligible bachelor. You still single Mary Gold?”

“No offense Grandpa, but I just want to quietly get settled.”

He seemed kind of hurt, and I felt kind of bad, but it would have been way too awkward to go meet the “pretty gal.” He pursed his lips and nodded.

I thought I would get settled and meet her in a couple days on my own. In reality, it would be a couple of months.

CHAPTER 2

Heather Louise Baumgartner and I became a romantic item the summer between our sophomore and junior year of high school. She was, and probably still is, an exquisite beauty, at least physically. She had silky blonde hair that flowed straight and luscious past the middle of her back. She was a little on the tall side and had perfectly proportioned curves. With her breezy, outgoing personality, she could have easily been head cheerleader. Why wasn’t she? And what was she doing with an average farm boy like myself?

I had a distinct advantage over my male high school peers at winning the affections of Miss Baumgartner. Her family and my family both belonged to the same ultra-conservative church.  Why was this an advantage?     

Church was everything to her family, and she really tried to be an obedient child. So when it came to male companionship, she was expected to yoke up with a fellow church member. Of these choices, she didn’t have many options, four realistic options to be exact. Compared to her other choices, I looked like Brad Pitt.  Her parents also required her to wear ankle length skirts and blouses that went to the neck.

Although I’m average, I guess I have my good qualities. I have a very muscular physic from years of farm work and helping my dad with construction. I have wavy blonde hair and light blue eyes that are wide and appear to be caring. I have a crooked nose, thanks to my brother and I never liked the thinness of my lips. I stand six foot three in my work boots and six foot two without. Oh, and Heather always said she loved how deep and introspective I was. I guess I still am since my wife tells me the same thing.

Heather and I became genuinely close. As we worked our way through high school, we discussed going to the same college and then marriage afterwards. We were saving ourselves for marriage, in other words we were refraining from physical intimacy. We did kiss quite a bit, and began to push the limits with touching.  I looked forward to one day being betrothed to such a stunning female. Then when our senior year was mostly over, we experienced “The Great Condom Fiasco.”

I tried to clear the mystery up with her father, Myron D. Baumgartner. But he didn’t believe me, and quite honestly, I didn’t blame him. So he saw to it that my relationship with his lovely daughter came to an end. She and I never even made it to senior prom, let alone college and then marriage. So I left the rural community of Spring Valley and moved to the thriving metropolis of Cedar Rapids.

A friend of my older brother was working at UPS, and he got me on there part time with the goal of one day becoming fulltime. Not long after that, I met the woman who would not only become my wife, but help me transform my spiritual life.  In the process, she became my soul mate. Ironically, it was through my future wife that I ended up working part time at Lake Produce. One of the craziest work places that you can imagine. It would have made interesting reality TV, if reality TV existed in the late eighties. I guess this memoir will have to suffice.

When I first started working at Lake Produce, I didn’t drive a delivery truck; I worked in the sprout room. This space was the area where they grew and packed alfalfa sprouts, as well as bean sprouts in an adjoining room. There was also a tomato room where hydroponic tomatoes were grown and packed.  When I arrived at Lake after my part time shift at UPS, I wasn’t even there two minutes when I had the “leap off of the truck encounter” with Dean Benet. I didn’t tell you about the rest of the day though.

My first assignment there was to help pack sprouts. A guy named Lon Dalton was in charge of this area. He reminded me of Wolfman Jack with his bushy dark hair and beard. His helper was a hyper little guy named Mervin Newman. There was this initial presence about Mervin that was so professional looking. He always wore polo shirts or button up shirts, as well as Dockers-type pants. Plus his flame red hair was always neatly coiffed and his mustache neatly trimmed. I wondered why he was doing the menial job of packing sprouts. I eventually found out that he used to be a pharmacist, but he lost his license as a result of sampling his product. I don’t think losing his pharmacy job had to do with substance abuse alone. Forgive me, but Mervin wasn’t all there.

Lake grew bean sprouts in a completely dark ten by ten room in white plastic tubs that were about two feet by four feet around and about three feet deep. These tubs had drainage holes and were propped up by bricks so they could drain properly. After they grew not quite a week, they were ready for harvest. There was a different elevated tub filled with water and a sloped table that drains. Lon would bring a ready tub out and wash the sprouts, cleaning off the husks and the dirt. He threw the ready sprouts on the table so they could drain, dry, and be packed.

I was given the task of putting sprouts in eight ounce cups. I didn’t need to be exact. Mervin weighed them on a scale, getting them to slightly above eight ounces per cup. Then, after quite a few accumulated, I would switch and put a lid on the cup.  Mervin would put a label on them from a hand held roll. Lastly, we would box them for delivery.

Mervin was thirty years old or so.  I truly felt bad that he spent all that time in college to be a pharmacist, only to end up packing produce.  Man that guy could wear on you though. Several years later when someone told me he was on disability for mental illness, I didn’t bat an eye. As a matter of fact I nodded, because it made perfect sense.

On my first day Lon was washing bean sprouts while Mervin and I were standing side by side packing. All morning the three of us had pleasant conversation.  Although Mervin was very quirky, I had no idea he was really unstable. Around lunch time Lon and Mervin decided to go to a burger joint to get some food to bring back and eat at the picnic table behind the tomato building. Mervin drove us in his almost new Olds 98. That car was ugly as sin, but it sure was a smooth ride. We get out of the car at the burger joint.  Mervin marches to the door with me trying to catch up when Lon grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Did you notice Mervin’s pants?” Lon asked.

I hadn’t.  Lon went on to explain. Because the sprout table was wet and Mervin was on the short side, his crotch was even with the table. Plus he was wearing tan pants, making him look even worse.  Lon suggested we try to appear to not be with him.

As we entered the restaurant Mervin was standing on the left, hands boldly on hips scanning the menu up high. Girls behind the counter were giggling and whispering. Cooks were peaking up front and then disappearing with laughter. I stole a look and had to refrain from laughter myself. It really looked like he wet himself big time. Well, I suppose he did, but I meant with his bladder, not a sprout table.

In the back seat of Mervin’s car, food in hand, I lost it. I was laughing so hard my gut hurt and tears were rolling down my cheeks. Fortunately, I managed to be fairly quiet, and Mervin was talking at Lon a mile a minute. Lon glanced at me and chuckled, causing Mervin to stop talking and glance at me in the rear view mirror, aviator sunglasses covering his eyes.

“What?” he asked with a grin, wanting to be let in on what Lon and I thought was funny.

“Nothing,” Lon replied, but chuckled a little bit more.

“Come on, what?” Mervin was no longer smiling, not liking to be left out of the loop.

Lon put a fist to his mouth and began to shake with laughter. I completely lost it now, causing Mervin to adjust his mirror to look at me and take off his sunglasses. I saw fury in his eyes, but it didn’t snap me out of laughing at all.  It made me laugh even harder. My stomach hurt. Mervin let loose a string of profanity, wanting to know what was so funny.

“Do you not realize that it looks like you wet yourself?” Lon asked, almost angrily, pointing to Lon’s crotch.

Mervin looked down and then up. He became eerily quiet and that actually extinguished the laughter. It was working after lunch when I got my first clues that Mervin was, to whatever degree, unstable.

SPOILED PRODUCE

By Johnathan Embers

PREFACE

The following tale is about coming of age and spiritual enlightenment during a peculiar romance while working for an odd produce company in the mid to late 1980’s. This is a work of fiction based off of actual characters and situations that the storyteller experienced. It is intended to be both funny and heartwarming, while also inspiring.

CHAPTER 1

FULL CIRCLE

Whoosh and a flash of flame happened simultaneously as I walked into my place of employment. It was strange how the last three years had come full circle that day for various reasons.  It was my last day working for Leonard Lake Produce Inc. It was an extremely cold day in early March, and Lenny Lake, the owner and boss was heating the back of his delivery trucks with propane and open flamed heaters. You heard me right, open flame heaters on moving trucks to keep the produce from freezing.

Lenny and Dean Benet, a driver and warehouse laborer like me, had been attempting to light a heater. If you’ve never seen one of these heaters, they have a round base that sort of looks like a bowl.  Extending up from this bowl is a two foot tube about a foot wide with a little roof that has a couple inch gap from the tube so heat can get out and do its job of warming. This particular heater that they were trying to light was missing this little roof. So I show up just in time to see Dean say “not yet” just as Lenny pushed the pilot and flicked the lighter that he held. I could smell gas from the ten feet away that I was standing.  So I wasn’t surprised when there was a whoosh of flame out of the top of the tube and Dean’s hat shot off of his head and flew toward me. I opened my hands and caught it as if he had tossed it to me. He briskly moved toward me, patting his big walrus mustache. It wasn’t burning, but I guess he didn’t know that. He quickly placed the ball cap onto his bald head, not liking his shiny dome to be exposed.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes at the current fiasco.

“No problem,” I told him as I extended my hand. “By the way, it’s been nice working with you. In case I don’t see you later.”

He grabbed my hand with both of his and pumped vigorously. “That’s right.  Today’s your last day. Yeah, it’s been real good. Good luck at UPS, don’t become a delivery snob.”

“Delivery snob?” I inquired.

“Yeah, you know, UPS is the most prestigious delivery job, isn’t it?” He said with a chuckle.

Dean was forty, give or take. He was tall and lean and had a blonde gray fringe around his mostly bald head. His gray eyes were close set and so intense he sometimes looked crazy, especially when he was expounding on government conspiracy theories. His mustache was the same color as his head hair, except for a spot in the middle that was an orange brown from nicotine. It also looked comically big on his narrow face. I always thought that he looked like somebody who could have been in Monty Python.

“I won’t become a delivery snob.  I’m just glad that I won’t have one of those in my truck,” I said, pointing at the flame thrower.

Lenny frowned at my comment, but extended a hand toward me. “I won’t be here when you get back from your route, so good luck at UPS. If things don’t work out there, let me know.”

With that Lenny shut the back door of the delivery truck so it could warm and went to his office.  Lenny wasn’t one to give compliments. No, he was one to let you know if you had the smallest screw up. So Dean and I both turned to watched him walk away, stunned at his kind gesture to me. Dean wore a far out spacey expression, like he was one the Darling boys from the Andy Griffith show. I suppose I was doing the same if I could have seen myself.

“Wow!” Dean exclaimed. “I’ve worked for Lenny over ten years, and I do believe that was the nicest thing that I’ve ever heard him say to one of his employees.”   

“It was definitely the closest thing to a compliment that I’ve ever gotten from him,” I said. “And the strange thing is in six hours I won’t be his employee anymore.”

Dean half snorted and half laughed. “Well that makes sense though; Lenny’s just looking out for Lenny. You’re one of the best workers that I’ve seen come through here and believe you me, I’ve seen plenty. He just wants you back if you’re ever available. That’s the only reason that you heard something resembling a compliment. You’re on your way out the door and you’re a good worker.”

I shrugged. “I’ll take it. Better than don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“That would even be considered nice for Lenny,” Dean said.

Lenny’s head appeared from around a corner. “Why are you still here?” he said to Dean.

“Take care buddy,” Dean said to me as he slapped me on the back. Then he wasted no time getting into his truck.

I went off to the break room. As I walked, I thought about how fitting my last work experience with Dean was. You see the very first time that I had met Dean he had just walked onto a dock level delivery truck to get a two wheel dolly off of it. The truck was running and apparently had someone in it. As I approached the back of the truck, Dean was on his way out with the dolly. He smiled at me and I believe he was about to introduce himself to me when the truck abruptly drove away from the dock. Dean’s eyes widened, looking like silver dollars on his narrow face. With the dolly still clutched in his hands, he leapt for the dock. His toes barely made contact with the surface of the dock. If I hadn’t been standing there to grab his arm and pull him to safety, he would have taken a fall off the dock. Once again the ball cap that he was wearing shot off of his head, but not getting near the air that it did with the flame thrower. He looked me in the eye with a crazed intensity I would soon become accustomed to and spoke to me for the first time.

“Man, sometimes life is just a matter of inches!” he declared.

Minutes after my mind reviewed my first encounter with Dean, I sat at a table with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and scanned the newspaper. As my eyes previewed the various headlines and articles, I noticed one that said something about six men arrested in a male prostitution sting. I turned the page and continued to scan other news, but something tugged at my brain to go back.

Apparently there was a certain park in the city that was a hot spot for gay men to meet and or hook up. And apparently six men had made arrangements to pay some other men to share in some intimacy. Five of the names meant absolutely nothing to me, but one of the names was very familiar to me indeed. Myron D. Baumgartner was charged with offering an undercover police officer money in exchange for sex. He was also charged with resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. I reread his name and his charges. Then I read it again and again and again. I sat back in my chair and felt my mouth say Wow.

You see Myron D. Baumgartner was my high school sweetheart’s father, and he’s also the person who helped me experience the most humiliating, embarrassing, and awkward moment of my life. No, it had nothing to do with male prostitutes; it did involve something of a sexual nature however. It had to do with his daughter, me, and a condom in a toilet. I’ll share this awkward tale later, though.

What I meant about my last day at Lake Produce Incorporated coming full circle not only had to do with my Dean encounter, but also reading about Myron and his arrest. You see, he was indirectly involved in my life’s journey landing me at Lake Produce in the first place.

It was the best of times and the worst of times. Or vice versa.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

STEVE SIMON

CHAPTER 14

NARROW IS THE GATE AND DIFFICULT IS THE WAY WHICH LEADS TO LIFE, AND THERE ARE FEW WHO FIND IT. (Matthew 7:14)

“You’re on,” I told Saul Sallie with an eager grin.

He had just suggested that we should sit down and let the Bible verify itself to prove its authenticity. I wasn’t sure if my statement was a challenge, or a desire to learn. Maybe a combination of both. But I dashed out of his front door, jogged to my car, and returned to Saul’s house with my big, brand new, beautiful Bible, complete with tabs to easily find every book. “Okay, chump, show me why you call this compilation of several thousand year old writings, The Word of God.”

Although my words indicated a spirit of doubt, I was actually in the process of becoming a man of faith. This was due to Saul, my friend and baseball teammate. Actually it was primarily due to the Holy Spirit leading me. God’s Spirit simply used Saul as an instrument. For it was Saul’s courageous stand on the Sabbath that got me seeking like never before.

At first I searched history, rather than the Bible. History told me that Constantine was the main culprit that steered most of Christendom from the Sabbath of the Bible to paganism’s venerable day of the sun. From worshipping the God of creation, on the day He blessed and made holy, to worshipping on the day that honors paganism’s sun god. Yes, I know most people do this in ignorance.

Thankfully, the God of the Bible is a patient, loving, merciful God. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). And every verse in Psalm 136 ends with ‘His mercy endures forever.’ Or just look at the life of Jesus and realize He said, “He who has seen Me, has seen the Father.” (John 14:9)

Then I studied the history of the church after it thought to change times and laws (Daniel 7:25). The Sabbath being both a time and a law. Constantine also made the church of Rome a legal religion. In the centuries that would follow it became known as the dark ages. It persecuted and executed the true Christians that refused to follow their dictates, declaring them to be heretics. Along with the attempted Sabbath change, this persecution was also prophesied in Daniel 7:25.

“You just answered part of it yourself,” Saul smiled pleasantly.

“I did?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This amazing compilation of writings that all harmonize,” he said happily.

“What about the contradictions?”

“If you study the Bible thoroughly and prayerfully, there are no contradictions. Just misinterpretation and misunderstandings.”

“Okay,” I replied a bit skeptically.

  “Sixty six books written on three continents, in three different languages, over a fifteen hundred year period. Written by forty different authors whose background and education varied greatly. Lets look at 2 Timothy 3:16 for starters… Do you want to read it?”

“All scripture is given by inspiration of God,” I recited. “And is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.”

I will leave you with what I found to be the most intriguing part of our study. It was the Old Testament prophecy’s that the historical figure of Jesus Christ fulfilled in the New Testament.

1. Predicted: Born in Bethlehem. Micah 5:2. Fulfilled: Matthew 2:1

2. Predicted: Born of a virgin. Isaiah 7:4. Fulfilled: Matthew 1:18-23

3. Predicted: David’s lineage. Jeremiah 23:5. Fulfilled: Revelation 22:16

4. Predicted: Target of a murder attempt. Jeremiah 31:15. Fulfilled Matthew 2:16-18

5. Predicted: Betrayed by a friend. Psalm 41:9. Fulfilled John 13:18, 19, 26

6. Predicted: Sold for 30 silver coins. Zechariah 11:12. Fulfilled Matthew 26:14-16

7. Predicted: Crucified. Zechariah 12:10. Fulfilled John 19:16-18, 37

8. Predicted: Lots cast for His clothes. Psalm 22:18. Fulfilled Matthew 27:35

9. Predicted: No bones broken. Psalm 34:20. Fulfilled John 19:31-36

10. Predicted: Buried in a rich man’s tomb. Isaiah 53:9. Fulfilled Matthew 27:57-60

11. Predicted: Year, day, hour of His death. Daniel 9:26, 27; Exodus 12:6 Fulfilled Matthew 27:45-50

12. Predicted: Raised the third day. Hosea 6:2. Fulfilled Acts 10:38-40

If you would like to see our study on the scriptures, or you would like to learn about Bible prophecy, please look up Amazing Facts ministry for books and study guides. Or you could simply look for Amazing Facts or Doug Batchelor on YouTube.

THE END OF PART ONE OF ‘A SAINT IN SIN CITY.’

(Writer’s note: Dear Reader, Thank you for your interest. While I am rebuilding material in my head for a part two of the preceding story, I am going to post one of the three e-books I have written. These are actually available on Amazon. I plan on posting one chapter a week of my first book that is called ‘SPOILED PRODUCE.’ This book was loosely based on my time working at a wholesale produce company in my younger days. Although many of the humorous anecdotes are based on actual events I witnessed, the overall, heartwarming story is a work of fiction. I hope you like it!)