An Unlikely Saint

By R. Furman Kenney

Figuratively speaking this is a "rags to riches" story. It tells of a person who, in his youth, was a loner and an avowed atheist. He had no time for anyone but himself. He rebuffed all attempts by his neighbors to be friendly. He had a very peculiar habit later in life that was puzzling to the citizens of his town. Thrust upon him during his declining years by a "pushy" social worker was a baby whom he was expected to rear. Something happened on one occasion that changed him into another personality. From that point on not only was his personality changed but also his mode of life. Along the way many odd situations arise which captivate the attention of the reader, causing him or her to wonder what is going to happen next. The main character sees needs in his home town, needs to which no other citizen had given a thought. With the tenacity of a pit bull he tackles those needs. Figured in the plot of this book is a woman with the vocabulary of the proverbial sailor but who is a "diamond in the rough". This book is designed for enjoyable reading.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467033503

R. Furman Kenney

The author is a native of northeast Mississippi but has spent most of his life in Virginia. He is a widower and has two children and two grandchildren. He has earned the B.A., M.A. and Ph.D. degrees. In his early life he served a stint in the Navy most of which was on detached duty with the Marine Corps. He has written many books which range in genre from autobiography, history, fiction/novel, fiction/suspense, etc. His interests are writing, reading, gardening, family gatherings, educational activities and traveling.

Book preview

Chapter 1

 Remembering the Past

Edgar kicked the bed covers off, started to get out of bed but thought better of it and lay back down. I’ll just lie here for another minute and listen to Nature sing. True, there did seem to be a chorus of birds singing, some such as a mocking bird singing beautifully, some such as a lonesome black crow singing not so beautifully. The neighbor’s dog was barking at a pedestrian walking by, the sound of horses’ hooves hitting the cobblestone street, the smell of bacon frying for a neighbor’s breakfast, the pealing of the clock chimes in the town hall tower, and the crowing of a rooster in the distance… all these sounds and smells mingled together to be a chorus that would have upset the nervous system of many a person. To Edgar, however, it was the sound of a normal morning. The sun was rising and was beginning to send through the open window bright rays of cheer. There was a gentle breeze entering the window bearing on its wings the scent of honeysuckle. Edgar made a mental note that all those modern townsfolk who had long since added window air conditioning units to their houses were missing all of this because of their carefully closed windows. He liked to think of himself as being a thrifty person. However, he strongly suspected that his neighbors referred to him as an old miser. In any case he had never gotten around to the matter of adding such a creature comfort as air conditioning to his eighty year old house. He liked it just like it was, simple, unadorned, unchanged since the day that he bought it forty-one years ago. Shortly thereafter he had married a young lady and had brought her to the house which he called home. She had argued with him on many occasions concerning the matter of updating their home, but he always replied with an emphatic, I’m against it! That had always ended their conversation pertaining to that matter or any of a similar nature, because early in their marriage she had learned that there was no use in arguing with him. Under her breath she would mutter to herself, There’s no reasoning with the old tightwad.

Now she was no longer with him. One cold winter day some years ago she had come down with a case of pneumonia that took her from the earthly scene. Once again he was quite alone in the world. His loneliness was accentuated by the fact that he had been an only child and was bereft of close kinsmen. He had never been one to go around town socializing with its citizens. In fact he barely talked with people unless it was completely necessary. To put it mildly he was a real loner. The children of the surrounding neighborhood referred to him as old loony bird. If their paths crossed his by necessity they gave him a wide berth. Their choice was to avoid him completely, for they had heard stories about him. They had even heard tall tales that he had been known to kill little children who bothered him. Of course such stories as that had grown out of vivid imaginations on their part.

Casting superstition aside, the older people of the town simply thought of him as being eccentric, a person who preferred to be alone, one who was anti-social. They respected him for that and, therefore, did not force their attention on him. Earlier some of his neighbors had tried to get him to attend church with them, participate in neighborhood events, etc. Finally they gave up on him, saying to themselves, If he wants to be alone, then so be it.

On this particular morning as he lay there in his bed listening to the sounds of the birds and the dogs of the neighborhood, smelling the sickeningly sweet odor of the honeysuckle vines nearby, feeling the breeze wafting over him, he smiled to himself. Ah, this is so restful, so peaceful. It surely beats the ‘hubbub’ of life downtown. However, I had better get up and get dressed, for I have some errands to do. Most of the morning’s errands were routine… going to the cemetery to chat with his dearly departed wife, going by the greasy spoon restaurant for a cup of coffee and a plate of ham and eggs for breakfast, to the post office to pick up his mail (there was seldom any to pick up), stop by the grocery store to buy some necessities and on back to his home.

It had been years since he had done anything by way of repairs to his house. It had not been painted during his ownership in the last forty-one years. The shingles on the roof were curling up as though they were trying to bow to the afternoon sun, and the roof over the front stoop was sagging in an unsightly manner. He seemed to be completely unaware of the way his house looked. The truth was that he simply did not care in the least that the neighbors were grumbling about the fact that his woe-be-gone looking house was lowering their property values. That’s their problem, he would mutter to himself. It just did not bother him. He was comfortable when inside his old home, and, as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered to him.

There were those who wondered how he existed financially, for he had never held a very high paying job. Most of his working years had taken place before there was the matter of paying into the Social Security plan, a plan that was in the formative stage during the early l940’s. He was not a veteran of military service, nor had he done any type of work that would give him a sizeable pension during his retirement years. On those occasions when the good citizens of the town got together for talk sessions they discussed among themselves how he was managing to survive financially. It was obvious to one and all that he was not spending any money on the upkeep of his house, but they agreed that even if one lived a simple unadorned life style such as Edgar did it still required quite a bit of money just to exist. There were many conjectures on the part of the neighbors as to how he managed to pay his monthly bills, but at the end of each such discussion they always were forced to admit such money problems he might be having were none of their business… at least not until he shared such problems openly with them which was highly unlikely that he would ever do that.

Edgar’s only companion as far as anyone in the neighborhood knew was a feral cat that had made its home with him. Like all feral cats it was at first as wild as a jack rabbit. One day in the dead of a cold, cold winter night it had wandered to the back door of his kitchen and meowed pitifully. Edgar jerked the door open and saw the frightened cat running across the back lawn which was covered with snow. Quite out of character for him, Edgar found himself breaking off pieces of bread from the stale loaf on the kitchen table and throwing them to his wild visitor. At first the cat would run for its life because of its innate fear of human beings, but when the door was closed again the cat would creep back to find the pieces of bread and gobble them up. After a long while the wild creature began to accept Edgar as being a friend who was willing to feed it. After some six months the cat even crept through the open kitchen door and headed straight to a piece of bread that had been purposefully left on the floor. Eventually it even allowed him to touch it and later to rub its fur. At last Edgar had a living creature that seemed to appreciate him.

Often on winter nights he sat by an open fire in a dilapidated rocking chair gazing at the red hot coals in the grate. However, he was not seeing red hot coals, no, he was seeing events which had occurred in the early years of his life. When some of those events were conjured up in his memory he smiled or even chuckled. During such moments as those he momentarily relived those memories of his early childhood when his life had been happier. His father and mother had been very normal people and had carried on a very normal type of life in their home and community. His father had been a wholesale merchant of general merchandise such as was needed by the proprietors of the many small country stores scattered throughout the local county. There were many country stores in the county surrounding the medium sized town of Lemon in which they lived. He had been a very affable sort of person who easily won friends and commanded their respect by his very demeanor and by his honesty in his business deals. The townspeople saw him as a man who was outgoing in personality and honest in character. The vast majority of the owners of those country stores had chosen his wholesale dealership as being the best of all the wholesalers with whom to deal. Therefore, Edgar’s father was in truth a very prosperous business man. His mother was viewed by drop in company as a typical housewife who was always wearing an apron, her hair was always balled up at the nape of her neck, and she was always wearing a big smile on her face. She was a good cook, a fact that was no doubt due to her love of food. She had but to hear of a new recipe and away to the kitchen she would go to begin trying it out. She loved to entertain dinner guests, both those who had received a formal invitation and those who were drop in guests. She was hospitable to the core. She rose early and worked late into the evening, for she always saw so many projects that needed her attention. She fought with a passion any dust that dared to settle within her home. She did not allow her soiled laundry to pile up, for every other day (except Sunday) she was to be found in front of the wash tubs, bending over a rub board scrubbing the soiled clothing of the family. Those laundry days were followed by ironing days (or pressing days as the more elegant ladies of the town referred to that task). During the evening hours by the light of a kerosene lamp she sewed, knitted, or crocheted. Needless to say she was ready for a good night’s rest when the lamp was blown out.

After many years of a childless marriage they were surprised by the news that they were to have a little one to be born into their family. They received the news at first with trepidation. They could foresee that the arrival of a little one would interrupt the routine of their daily lives, that is, they would no longer be in control of their established pattern of life. They had witnessed the change of routine of life on the part of their neighbors when their first child entered their households. After a few weeks that feeling of trepidation gave way to a feeling of joyful anticipation. Upon the arrival of little Edgar they were filled with a sense of awe and with great happiness. They leaned over his crib and watched his every movement… until the demands of their way of life pulled them away from the baby’s crib and back to their accustomed routines. Being older parents they were very careful with the baby. For instance they took turns awaking every hour on the hour to reach over and touch the little one in order to be sure that he was still alive. As the child grew they became very strict parents, a fact that restricted the lad’s way of life. Younger parents in the neighborhood seemed to accept the role of parenthood more casually. It appeared that they fed breakfast to their little ones and then shoo’d them out the door and did not seem to give them a thought until it was time to call them in for the evening meal. His parents had made it a point that all of Edgar’s daily activities occurred under the view of one of them. Their neighbors agreed among themselves that his parents were overly protective and also prone to spoiling him.

Edgar’s parents had high hopes for their only child. They envisioned that one day he might become President of the United States of America, or, if not, maybe he would at least be the governor of the state or the mayor of their town. Whatever endeavor in life he undertook they were sure that he would be the best of those in that line of work. They realized that in order for him to become such an accomplished person he must have a college education, a rare thing for the young people of that day in the town of Lemon. As the years passed the townspeople observed that young Edgar was a very quiet lad and one who was seldom seen in the company of other young people. If they had stopped to analyze his mode of life they would have detected that he did not have his father’s outgoing personality and winning ways, nor did he have his mother’s work habits. However, since life in the town of Lemon moved at such a slow pace with one day slowly blending into the next, the good people of the town either took no notice of Edgar’s life style or simply did not care. In other words his behavior as an older teenager was not so different from that of the rest of the teenagers that it caused them to bother to take notice of his life style.

It was obvious to his parents that he was very timid and withdrawn from other people. It was a fact that he felt comfortable with as he moved from younger to older teenage life. The prospect of going away to college terrified him. How could he bear to be away from his parents and from the familiar surroundings in which he had grown up? He felt no ambition whatsoever to be president, governor, nor yet mayor. In fact he felt no ambition to hold any particular job or position in life. All he asked of life was to be left alone to his own devices. As earlier stated his parents did not feel that way. They were very, very ambitious for their only child. Seemingly they desired to fulfill their own personal dreams and ambitions (ambitions not fulfilled in their personal lives) through the life of their son. In his final year in high school all he concerned himself with was to make a passing grade so that he could once and for all be rid of the routine of school life. The honor of being valedictorian of the class was not even a faint wish on his part. His total wish was simply to make a sufficiently high grade average that would entitle him to graduate from high school even if his grade average happened to put him at the foot of his class. Going to school cramped his style, that is, prevented him from living life as he so desired. Fortunately he did pass the work in all of his classes, and he did graduate even though it was almost at the bottom of his class.

His happiness caused by his graduation was short lived. His parents descended on him with all four feet, waving college brochures in his face and telling him that he must immediately make application to several colleges so that at least one of the group might accept him. To which college do you desire to go? Speak up! The freshman classes in all the colleges are fast filling. I don’t want to go to college… in fact that is the last thing I want to do! Stop talking such nonsense and get your applications in the mail to at least four colleges… and do it now! At last he pointed out to them the names of four colleges which he chose. If the truth be known his choices were made by flipping a coin in secret. At their forceful direction he filled out the applications and forwarded them to their respective colleges. At last he was free to enjoy the summer!

But, alas, his parents became completely disagreeable. They told him that going to college cost money and a lot of it. Therefore, he must do his part in raising that money. He must get a job wherever he could find it. Lackadaisically he stopped by several places of business and half-heartedly applied for a job. After several days of hearing nothing from any of his applications his father told him that he must come down to his wholesale store and work there. Len’s job would be to load heavy bags of cow feed, sugar, flour, fertilizer, etc. onto the pickup trucks of the proprietors of the many country stores who came into town to stock up on the supplies needed for the coming week. Oh, my aching back! I don’t want to work for you. I don’t like anything about your old warehouse! Sorry about that, young man, but you have no choice. Since you have not been able to get a job elsewhere, there’s nothing else for you but to work in my warehouse. You’ve been lazy all your life. Your mother and I have done all the work in the store and in the home while you spent your time amusing yourself at one game or another. You can’t learn how to work any younger, so get busy! Here is a list of the things Mr. Johnson (he’s the man that drives that red pickup truck which is parked by the loading dock) has ordered for restocking his store for the week. Angry enough to bite nails Edgar slowly did as he was told.

That night he appeared at the dinner table with a very sullen demeanor. He refused to enter into his parents’ conversation… just ignoring them when they pointedly turned their conversation in his direction. After a few bites of food he got up from the dinner table without asking to be excused and rushed out of the room and up the stairs, entering his bed room and slamming the door behind him. His poor parents looked at each other and shook their heads in dismay. There appeared in his mother’s eyes tears which began to trickle down her cheeks. What’s going to become of that boy? his father asked. We’ve done the best we knew how in trying to rear him correctly. We tried not to spoil him while he was growing up, but I guess we failed in our efforts on that score.

A couple of weeks later responses to Edgar’s applications for entrance into college began to trickle back to his home address. One by one those letters were nervously opened. Each of the three large senior colleges to which he had applied expressed regret that he was not accepted by their institution. Finally there came a reply from the fourth college, a small state junior college over in the next county, in which was stated that he would be accepted into its freshman class but with some provisions. He would need to take classes in remedial English and Math on the side due to his very low academic standing in those two areas during his high school years.

Edgar was obviously very disappointed by the content of those letters… but not for the reason which his parents assumed. He was disappointed that he had been accepted by any of the schools to which he had applied. He had hoped that none would accept him and thus prevent his having to go to school again, something that he hated with a passion. That pesky little junior college in the next county had destroyed his plan. Well, he would just show those professors at that little junior college that he was not college material… even in a college like it. Since his parents were forcing him to go, he would go… but he would have a good time there. He would find some fun things to do there in the little town where the junior college was located. Yes, that’s what he would do! Of course he would have to pretend to be serious about the idea of entering that college so that his parents would not realize his projected modus operandi for enjoying his college life.

After those moments of reminiscing about his early life, Edgar finally drew his feet completely out from under the bed covers, sat up on the side of the bed, and swung his stiff old legs around and placed his feet firmly on the cool bare wooden floor of his bed room. He had experienced quite a reverie by reminiscing over his early years during those sun rising morning minutes. Yes, he had gotten a few chuckles by recalling some of the capers he had pulled in his early life, but, also, he had almost suffered some pangs of remorse due to some other things he had said or had done in his early life… but not quite. Well, what’s done is done. I can’t change a thing about any of that stuff now. Might as well not ‘cry over spilt milk’ by letting my past bother me now. His treatment of his parents, his selfishness during his growing up years, his indifference toward other people, were all causes for which he should have been very remorseful, but unfortunately he was not in the least regretful, not even a bit embarrassed by those unseemly events in his early life. Well, at least I did not kill anybody during those years… I did not cause blood to flow from anybody. Maybe I did kill some people figuratively and spiritually speaking, but SO WHAT!

Now, where did I put my walking stick? It is never in the place where I distinctly remember leaving it! Since I’m the only one in the house, and since it seems to move from one place to another in the house, I guess there must be ghosts living with me… Well, now come to think of it, the former owners of this house did have untimely deaths. Maybe their ghosts have come back to give me trouble, he said with a smirk. Since his wife, Rachel, had died and left him all alone in the house, he had often talked to himself. Evidently he liked the sound of a human voice reverberating in the house… even if it was his voice. Ah, there is that old walking stick right in the spot where I now remember I left it. He reached over into the corner of the front hall closet and picked up his gnarled old cane, a cane that he had found in the nearby forest shortly after he had moved into his home many, many years ago. It had once been a sprig of a tree that had grown to be a little over an inch in diameter and a bit wobbly in its makeup, that is, it was not perfectly straight and smooth. It had grown so that there was almost an u-turn formation in the vine. That formation served as the top of the walking stick in the place where his hand rested. Shortly after finding the vine he sawed off the portion of it which he planned to use in making his walking stick, peeled off the bark and left it in the sun to dry. After a few weeks it had become dried out and ready to serve as a walking stick. He had stuck it in a corner of the closet and had forgotten all about it. It had been only a couple of years prior to that point in time when he became unsteady on his feet and needed a stabilizer, that is, a cane. That’s when he remembered the old sprout stick he had so lovingly prepared to serve his needs at a later date. He proudly began to use it. However, most of the time it was just in his way, but on some occasions he really did need a walking stick with which to steady himself. This morning was one of those times when he felt a need for it. After adjusting his old well worn hat on his head he opened the front door, stepped out onto the front stoop and down the front steps, and thus he began his routine for the day.

Chapter 2

Running from Parental Love

Slowly and carefully Edgar picked his way down the front walk to the street. It was the same concrete front walk that had been laid when the house was first built some eighty years ago. The years had taken their toll on it; there were places where the concrete had bucked up and there were places where chunks of concrete from the walk had broken off, leaving in their wake holes that could easily cause an unwary person to sprain an ankle. The condition of the front walk matched the condition of the house itself. As pedestrians walked down the street in front of the house they saw both a house and front walk in a state of great disrepair. When Edgar looked out of the window of the old house toward the street, usually he could see those who were walking along the street shaking their heads in disbelief at the shabby condition of his house and front walk. If he had paid any attention to those people who were passing by, he would have readily seen that they were giving disapproving glances as they looked toward his house. However, he would not have reacted in embarrassment. He simply did not care what people thought of him or his house.

When walking down town, he usually met a few townspeople who gave him a cheerful greeting, Good morning, Mr. Smithson. How are you? Humph was the only response which they heard from him. He did not even so much as look in their direction but kept his gaze fixed on the sidewalk some distance ahead of him. Slowly he made his way along the route to the city cemetery in town. He had gone there so often that he could have almost gotten there if he had been blindfolded. In fact he went two or three times each week. The good ladies of the town whispered among themselves that Edgar paid more attention to his late wife in her death than he did while she was living. Sometimes he carried a flower or two to place on her grave. Most often those flowers were some from his unkempt flower beds in front of the house or some wild flowers which he picked on the way.

Today his routine was somewhat different in that he did something that he seldom ever did… he walked a little distance from his wife’s grave across the cemetery over to the graves of his parents. He did this although he had any emotional need to do so; it was just that he supposed that it was the proper thing to do. On this morning he stood there looking at their large granite grave marker and reread what was engraved thereon. On one side of the marker were engraved the name, birth and death dates and a sentence characterizing the life of his father, Roger Lee Smithson, born March 19, 1830, died December 8, l905, ‘An honorable man respected by all’. Along side his father’s inscription was the inscription for his mother which read, Irma King Smithson, born July 7, l832, died January 25, l907, ‘A fine Christian lady’. Each time that Edgar read the inscriptions about his parents it was as though it was the first time to read them, for his visits to their graves were few and far between. He read those inscriptions in a detached manner as though he were reading inscriptions concerning people whom he did not know. Each of the few times that he had stood by their graves and read those words engraved on that large marker he experienced no emotion whatsoever. Those two graves might as well have been graves of people of whom he had never heard. He subconsciously asked himself, Why am I standing here beside these two graves??? I’ve got better things to do, and so he moved away and on across the cemetery back to the grave of his beloved Rachel.

However, each of the few times that he had visited his parents’ graves he mentally turned back the pages of the calendar to those early days when he lived under the surveillance of his parents. As stated earlier they were middle aged when the miracle of his conception took place. He always felt that they were more of the age that grandparents should be. In some ways they acted more like grandparents than parents, for they were more protective than younger parents seemed to be. Since they were well established in their daily patterns of adult life, their mode of living was that of old people, not that of young adult parents. Edgar felt that they did not connect well with his generation, that they did not understand how it was to live the life of a young boy at that point in time. He felt that they were so ensconced in their pattern of life when he came along that they just continued on in that pattern, leaving with him the impression that he was a disjointed member of their family, that he was a nuisance to their way of life. In other words he never felt that they really loved him. Rather, he felt that he was just a burden which they stoically accepted as being their cross to bear. Thus, he shut them out of his heart and thoughts; never did he share with them his thoughts about life’s issues when he was growing up.

When they had forced him to go to college, he carried out his plan to enjoy college life to the extent that he would not have any time in which to study… and thus soon flunk out. That part of his scheme had materialized as planned. When his first semester’s grades arrived at his parents’ home, they almost died due to high blood pressure. After stewing over the matter for a couple of days, his father, Roger Smithson, got on the phone and called him. In a harsh tone and loud voice he lectured him for nearly an hour, covering such subjects as Edgar’s laziness, lack of values in life, no ambition, etc. Then he issued an ultimatum to Edgar: You shall no longer receive any spending money; you must knuckle down with your head between the pages of your text books; you must bring your grades up from F’s to at least C’s; you are a disgrace to the name ‘Smithson’; your mother and I are so disappointed in you that we just may disown you, etc. and etc.

That last threat had hit home to his heart. He mumbled to himself, They have never really loved me; I’m a disgrace to them it seems; they plan to disown me! Well, I’ll just show them! With that he packed the suitcase he had brought to college with him, left a note to his roommate stating that he was leaving college and going out on his own, that his parents no longer loved him and that he did not plan ever to see them again. While his roommate was in class, he left the room and walked off campus. He walked over to the state highway which ran through the college town and stood there with his thumb held up as each car passed by. Finally, a driver stopped and gave him a ride. I see by the sticker on your suit case that you are a student at the local college. Yes, sir, that’s right; I’m taking a little break in order to go to visit my sick grandfather, he lied to the driver. He continued to hitchhike across the continent to the fabled state of California. Since he had only a little money left, he chose the southernmost part of the state so that it would not be too cold if and when he had to sleep in wide open spaces at night. Eventually he landed in San Diego, a city that was crowded with young sailors. If he had been wearing a Navy uniform he would have blended right in. He began immediately to look for a job, for he was down to his last few bucks of the spending money which his parents had given him at the beginning of the month. Look as hard as he could, he had little success in landing a job of any kind. As opposed to his technique of applying for a job the preceding summer back in his home town, this time he put his heart and soul into his effort. Finally he was offered a job as a dishwasher in a greasy spoon Greek restaurant in the area of the city which was filled with saloons and bawdy houses. When he was told what the pay would be, he almost turned down the offer. Common sense took over and caused him to reason with himself that he had no work experience other than working for his father, that he was desperately in need of earning some money and that in addition to the pay check he would be allowed to eat at least one meal a day there in the restaurant. The salary would be just enough to pay for lodging in a flop house. Well, at least that would be better than sleeping on the ground somewhere in the vicinity… And so he replied, Yes, sir, I want the job. The truth was that he had never in his life washed a dish, but he figured that he could learn. There was in the back of the kitchen an antiquated dish washer that would help a bit with the work.

After a few months on that job he had been able by living very, very frugally to save some money. He hit the highway again, going north up the California coast. He stopped in Los Angeles where he found lodging in a flop house in the downtown section of the older part of the city. Again, he was desperately trying to find work. Finally he found work with a small landscaping company in the neighboring part of the inner city. His boss was a Chinaman whose use of the English language was so poor that it was difficult to follow his instructions. Edgar used muscles that he didn’t know that he had while digging, raking, etc. as the job required. The weeks melted into months and the months into years. Usually that job and the others that followed it as he moved from one part of the country to another required him to work seven days a week. Such a requirement kept him too busy to think about life back home with his parents, a life that he now knew had been a very pampered sort of life… actually a life of great ease. On rare occasions he thought of his parents and wondered how they were. Oh, no doubt but that they are all right. They are made of stern stuff; life can’t get them down. I suspect that they no longer think about me… probably glad to be rid of me. It would be nice to know if life is better for them now that they don’t have to worry about me and my ‘trifling ways’. If a mature person had heard Edgar audibly express his thoughts, he would have angrily replied, You stupid young man! It’s obvious that you don’t know a thing about parenthood. Parents love and worry over their offspring until the day they die. There were times when Edgar thought of calling his parents to let them know that he was still alive and to find out how they were. Then he would say, They have disowned me, so I know that they don’t want to be bothered with me… they’re just glad to be rid of me. No, there’s no point in calling or writing to them… that would only open up new wounds!

One year passed into the beginning of another year… time rolled by rapidly. It had now been twenty-two years since he had last seen his parents. Why, Dad just might be retired by now and taking life in a carefree way. Mom has probably slowed down to the point that she enjoys sitting in the rocking chair instead of cleaning and cooking. Life is probably good for them.

He had not progressed very high in the business world. He was still a day laborer, but he was now a day laborer with experience. He had remained in the landscaping line of work through the last several years. His pay checks were larger now, for he had risen in the work force until he was a foreman on his job. He still worked almost every day of the week and many hours during each day, but he had come to accept that type of life as being all right. For the last several years he had remained in the same city which was Phoenix, Arizona. He had no social life, a fact that did not bother him because he had always been a loner. He had never found it necessary or even satisfying to spend time with a social group. Dull, hum-drum, same old, same old, are expressions which describe what his social life (or lack of it) was like in those days. There had been no time nor any desire for romance.

One day the manager of the large landscaping business for which he was working at that time said to him, Yesterday when I was reading the newspaper I saw a small block advertisement which said that a lawyer was trying to locate a Mr. Edgar Thomas Smithson. That’s your name, isn’t it? Yes, that’s my name, but through the years I’ve seen in print a lot of names very similar to mine. Probably just a coincidence. Did the advertisement say why the lawyer was trying to find a person by that name? Well, now, let me think a bit. Seems to me that it was something to do with an estate. I don’t take the paper and don’t usually buy one at the news stand. Would you clip that ad and bring to me tomorrow. Out of idle curiosity I would like to see it. Sure thing, that is, if I haven’t thrown yesterday’s paper away. The next morning the manager called across the warehouse to Edgar and said, Lucky me, I found the paper to which I referred and clipped that small block advertisement. Here it is, and so saying he handed it to Edgar. Edgar’s heart was racing in excitement but more especially in anxiety. If he happened to be the Edgar Thomas Smithson referred to in the ad, what on earth was the meaning of it. Settling an estate . . . what estate. I certainly don’t personally have one of my own to settle. It could not be referring to my parents’ estate, for I’m sure that they are still alive. More to the point I understand that they disowned me long ago. Therefore I would not be an heir to any estate pertaining to them." Having thought it through in that fashion, he stuck the ad into his pocket and continued on with his work. That night he pulled it out and reread the advertisement.

Attorney John S. Derrick of Lemon, PA is seeking the whereabouts of a person by the name of Edgar Thomas Smithson. He is needed to assist in the settling of an estate. That cryptic statement which was the total message in the advertisement struck home to Edgar’s heart. It might be referring to another person who just happened to have the same name. However, he would not know until he got in touch with Attorney Derrick. Was there an address or phone number given in the ad? Yes, there was a phone number… in fact there were two phone numbers, one for day time use and one for night. That night in the privacy of his room in the rooming house where he was staying he slowly dialed the phone number supplied in the advertisement. After several rings at the other end of the line there was a voice saying, This is Attorney John S. Derrick; how may I help you? With a trembling voice Edgar told the attorney, My name is Edgar Thomas Smithson. I don’t know whether I am the one by that name for whom you are looking… I guess somewhere in America there may be another person by that name. Sir, tell me the names of your parents. When Edgar supplied that information, the attorney replied, You are the Edgar Thomas Smithson for whom I am looking. Well, sir, why are you looking for me? My services have been secured to settle your parents’ estate. But sir, as far as I know they are not dead. I regret to inform you, Mr. Smithson, that your parents are dead. Your father died December 8, l905. Your mother died January 25, l907. Edgar let out an audible gasp. When I last saw them both of them were very healthy. Mr. Smithson, may I remind you that according to the records I have in my possession you disappeared early in February of l885 leaving no trace whatsoever of your whereabouts. As far as your parents knew you were dead. All they had was a faith that you might still be alive. They told me that they had not heard from you or about you since the day that you left college. Yes sir, I guess that is correct. Mr. Smithson, now that I know that you are alive, I shall have to stop tentative plans for the distribution of the proceeds of your parents’ estate and proceed in another direction. You understand that my hands are tied as to the settling of their estate until you appear before me and provide certain points of information. Can you come to Lemon shortly and have a conference with me? Yes, sir, I think I can. Yes, sir, I shall do that as soon as I can make arrangements to do so. Very well, then, I shall expect to see you in my office as soon as you arrive in town. Yes sir. As Edgar put down the phone he felt that his world had just turned upside down. Both of his parents were dead. Both had seemed to be so healthy when he last saw them. Well, the passing of time has a way of changing things. It surely has changed things in this case.

He assumed that following his visit back to his home town to do what was necessary on his part to assist in the settling of his parents’ estate he would be returning to Phoenix and would resume his job with the landscaping company. He secured permission from the company manager for leave time. He checked train schedules, secured a ticket, hastily packed some of his clothes and headed for the train depot.

Upon his arrival in his home town of Lemon he walked hurriedly a few blocks over to the business part of town and headed for the address of Atty. Derrick’s office. When he was admitted into the inner office of the attorney, he was a bit surprised by what he saw. The office was completely unpretentious in appearance. Mr. Derrick was much younger than Edgar had expected him to be, etc. After introductory chitchat they settled down to the business at hand. Mr. Smithson, your parents and all their neighbors presumed that you were dead. There had not been the slightest trace of you for so many years. Ordinarily when someone disappears from one place after a while it is reported that he or she has reappeared in another location. Your parents put ads in neighboring papers seeking information as to your whereabouts. They hired a detective to aid them in the search. Not the slightest trace of you was ever found. After years of finding no information as to whether you were alive or dead, your parents and all who knew you imagined the worst scenario, that is, that you had been murdered and that your body had been well hidden. Therefore, in the light of the lack of knowledge as to your status… living or dead… they drew up their wills while both were of sound mind. Their estate was to be converted into cash from which a good portion was to be given to several charitable institutions, the rest to the church of which they were members. However, their Last Will and Testament was to be set aside if by chance it was proved that you were still alive. They poured out their hearts in tears to me over what they presumed to be their loss of you by death. They appeared to love you with a passion and to long for your reappearance. Now that having been said, let me read to you the will that supersedes the earlier will due to the fact that you are very much alive. A tenth part (the tithe) of our estate is to go to the local church of which we have been members most of our lives. The nine-tenths of the estate will go to our only child, our beloved son, Edgar Thomas Smithson. However, it is to be held in trust with monthly payments being deposited directly into his bank account each month. Because we love him so dearly we do not want the bulk of the estate to be placed as a burden on him, causing him the worry of deciding what to do with it. Month by month he will have income from the estate so that he can have the assurance that he will be able to live from one month to the next." When the lawyer had finished reading the will, Edgar arose to leave. As had been true of him all his life thus far, he was a man of few words. He simply gave the lawyer the name of the bank into which the monthly deposits were to be made, extended his hand in thanks and departed.

That day was a life changing experience for Edgar. He discovered from the words of the lawyer that his parents did truly love him. He learned that their love for him would live on down through the years because of those monthly checks being continuously deposited to his account. Even now he was too proud to admit that he had played the fool in not accepting advanced education when it was offered to him by his parents. As a result when he ran away from school, from assuming responsibility and from the protection of his parents, his station in life was that of a day laborer. He lived to regret with all his heart that he did not take the education which his parents had so greatly desired that he have.

Unfortunately, he showed no remorse for a misspent life thus far down life’s journey. In fact he showed no emotion whatsoever. He was completely stoic in his demeanor. The lawyer who had encountered every sort of reaction at the reading of a will could not help but register inner surprise at Edgar’s reaction or lack thereof. There was no change in outward expression on his countenance, certainly no verbal expression indicative of any emotional reaction. Edgar simply sat there devoid of any visible reaction. Mr. Derrick, a keen observer of human nature, made a mental note that there had to be a first for everything. This was the first time in his career that the reading of a will had not brought forth some sort of reaction on the part of the recipients of the contents of the will… a nervous reaction evidenced by a verbal outcry, a scowl, a giggle type of laugh, a smile, a frown, or some change in countenance. Nothing! Edgar just sat there wearing the same expression as when he entered the lawyer’s office. What an odd duck, thought Mr. Derrick to himself.

After extending his hand to the lawyer and almost inaudibly expressing his thanks to him, Edgar left the office of the barrister and went to the nearest public phone. He called the manager of the landscaping company back in Phoenix and told him that he would not be returning to his job, giving no explanation whatsoever, offering no gratitude for the kindness of the manager through the last several years… nothing but the cryptic statement, I won’t be back, I won’t be working for you any more. Having done that he turned down the street and headed in the direction of the old house which had been his home during his boyhood.

Chapter 3

 Life on the Lam

As he walked along through his old neighborhood there arose in his memory the people who had lived in those houses… might even still be living in them. The third house on his right was where the Johnsons had lived. They had had an apple tree on their back lawn which was surrounded by a high wire fence. Oh, what a memory! One dark night in the late summer he had crept down the back alley until he came to the back gate of the Johnson’s lot. To be sure the back gate was securely fastened, making it impossible for young Edgar to open it. Not daunted by that temporary deterrence to getting some of those beautiful red apples, he simply solved the problem of the locked gate by climbing up and over the high wire fence. When he hit the ground on the other side he crept toward the apple tree that was in the center of the back lawn. Up he climbed limb by limb until he reached a limb that was full of those big beautiful red delicious apples, a fact that he had learned in previous years when the Johnsons had given him an apple. All was going well with his apple stealing effort. The soft moonlight on that night was just bright enough for him to see the apples which were on a nearby limb. Ah, this is living! he thought to himself. About that time the old bull dog which had been sleeping soundly in his dog house nearby awakened and began barking at the top of his lungs. He came running as fast as his four legs could carry him, heading in the direction of the apple tree. About that time Mr. Johnson’s voice was heard from an upstairs bedroom window, Fritz, you stop that barking! But Fritz didn’t! A light was turned on in the house. Oh, what can I do? Instinct more than wisdom caused him to drop out of the tree and head for the back fence and with the speed of lightening he climbed that fence… but not quickly enough, because that angry dog grabbed a trouser leg, thus pulling Edgar backward. With superhuman strength he pulled upward. Result… a big patch of trouser leg remained in the dog’s mouth. He raced up the back alley, but as he did so he felt a bulge in his trouser pocked. Hey, I did succeed in getting one apple! Upon his arrival back at his house he gently opened the front door, crept inside the front hall and up the stairs to his bedroom. His parents had assumed that he was in his room all the while. Fortunately they were sleeping soundly and did not hear him entering the front door and creeping up the steps to his bed room.

Such memories as that one brought a chuckle out of him in spite of his taciturn manner. As he continued to walk on down the street in the direction of his old home other such pranks in his early life came to mind. Ah, those were the days! he murmured to himself. Other such episodes in his early life rose to the surface of his memory and caused him to continue to chuckle to himself. When have I ever thought of those things which took place in my early life? For decades I have put them out of my mind. For fear that some person along the street might see him smiling… something that he desired that no one would see… he discontinued his reminiscing about his early days there in his home town. He turned to more sobering thoughts such as the handling of his parents’ estate as told to him by Mr. Derrick, the lawyer.

On his trip back into his home town of Lemon he had observed from the train window as the train slowly came into the edge of town that there were many new houses in the town’s newer section. After he got off the train and began to walk for several blocks from the depot to the main part of town, he was surprised to see that there had been several changes made in the town. There were several new and rather impressive places of business now lining the streets through which he had walked. He was very, very surprised by so many changes, for he had expected every thing in town to look just like it had when he left it many years ago.

The family home, the warehouse and all other tangible property which had been owned by his father and mother had been liquidated and put into cash and deposited in the bank. Fortunately for Edgar he had been found just in time to prevent the Smithton estate from falling into the hands of the various charitable institutions as listed in his parents’ wills. He thought to himself, There is no doubt but that Mr. Derrick has handled the affairs having to do with the settling of my parents’ estate in a very good and proper way. However, the dark side of the situation is that I have been left without a house to serve as my home. He would have loved to have been able to live in his old home with all its memories, but that was not a possibility since it had been sold during the liquidation of his parents’ assets. He decided to find a rooming house in which he could live temporarily, that is until such time as he could rent or buy a house in which to reside. For the following two months he checked the real estate listings in the local paper day by day. Those that fit his criteria as to location, size, age, condition, and price were inspected by him personally. Finally, after a couple of months he found one that suited his needs and at the price he could afford. Fortunately, he had been able to save a small amount of money while working in those low paying jobs during the past years. Using that as a down payment and securing a mortgage whose monthly payments were manageable, he purchased a home. It was in a good area of the town at that time; it was near enough to the center of things so that he could walk to most places without too much distance to cover; and the house seemed to be in a fair state of repair.

Unfortunately his taste in houses and that of the lady whom he later married and brought into that house were not the same. Quite often she told him of things about the house that she did not like, things that either he had not noticed or that revealed the difference in his and her tastes. There were times when she tried to get him to agree to buy another house which was more to her liking, but he was immoveable. He liked the house which he had selected to be his choice of a house which would become his home, a home in which he planned to live in until the day he died.

He finally landed a low paying job in one of the local banks. As far as he was concerned it was the best job he had ever held. The income from it plus the monthly income from his parents’ estate was sufficient for him to make the monthly mortgage payments, maintain the house, pay the grocery and utility bills, etc. That’s all that mattered to him. He was completely satisfied with that aspect of his job. However, he did not like having to deal with people who did their banking there. As time went by he found ways to prevent having to talk with the customers to any extent. He talked with them just enough to give the appearance that he was adequate for the job.

But back to the present… all of these memories rose up into his mind as he stood looking down at his parents’ graves. Always when he visited their graves memories of the past took over the control of his mind for quite a length of time. Those memories were for the most part very unpleasant primarily because of the way he had treated his parents. No doubt that was the reason for his very infrequent visits to their graves. He was happy not to do anything that would induce such memories.

Well, it is always the same… every time I have visited my parents’ graves my mind turns back the pages of time, and I begin to relive those bygone years. I don’t have a sense of sorrow when I visit their graves. All I have are memories, most of which are not very pleasant. With that having been said Edgar pulled his mind back to the present, turned abruptly away from the site of the graves of his parents, and turned across the cemetery to the grave of his beloved Rachel.

Some obviously well-to-do family had placed a marble bench near a large family burial plot in which there were several graves and several spaces for future burials of other family members. Whether for actual use by the family members to come and sit and meditate or just for show Edgar wasn’t sure, but he was glad that their marble bench was there, for it was near the grave of his beloved Rachel. Often he tarried for quite a while at her grave, so it was very nice to have a place where he could sit and grieve and reminisce. Many of the town’s people reported that when they visited the graves of their loved ones quite often they saw Edgar sitting on the bench near his wife’s grave. Some of them declared that they saw his lips moving as though he might be talking to some one… as spooky as it sounded they were convinced that he was talking to his deceased wife. Their reports of what they saw on those occasions added fuel to the flame about Edgar’s peculiar actions, actions which had earned for him the name which the local children pinned on him,