The Hill Where It All Stood Still

He was dazed from the medicine when he came to. Shapes and a thick fog obscured his vision as the car he was in meandered along the highway as if there was nothing else to do but enjoy the ride. Noel collapsed while in a very important client meeting. The doctors recommended he take a break from his fast life and spend his days with family. His oldest, most troublesome, son agreed that Noel needed to rest for a while and offered to move him into the family home. Noel rested against the window, arms folded and turned away from his son as the car decelerated through the exit. “Oh,” Noel said, “They added a highway by the house.” Shane scoffed, “Had you been over here more, you’d know it’s been here.” So much for small talk. The car slowed as they pulled into the old home’s driveway. A large colonial style home nestled among a large area of land. Land which was previously vast and isolated, surrounded now by suburban developments and interstate. The silence replaced by the hustle of the city.

One thing remained. A tree sat atop the hill near the house. It’s dark branches unmoving and strong against the winds.

Noel’s other sons, Hank and Jack, were already there ready to greet him. Unlike his oldest, they were talkative and open to conversation with their old man. They helped him settle and stood idle, waiting. Noel was careful as he sat on the bed. Jack, the youngest, spoke up. “Understanding the severity here, but ain’t it weird seeing Dad sit still?” Hank agreed, “You know what, it is weird! I swear Pop, you’ve always been on the go. Speedy Gonzales.”

Noel grunted and adjusted. “And in a few weeks’ time, I’ll be right back to it.”

“Always the rolling stone.” Hank and Jack laughed. Noel gave a brief smile. He looked over to a stone-faced Shane.

“He shouldn’t be working so hard at his age.”

Hank and Jack looked down, “Here we go.”

“Well, if I didn’t work hard, you wouldn’t be here. Be grateful. You’re all successful. Hank’s world traveling and working high dollar contracts. Jack, just like his old man, wheeling and dealing. Not pleased you’re with our competitor, though. And you,” he reciprocated the sharp stare Shane gave, the latter pacing quickly around the room, “free home, doing whatever it is you love. Nice little family.” Hank and Jack sunk away.

“Don’t patronize me, Noel. You left me this raggedy ass house because you were scared to look at it. You didn’t raise us after Mom died. Nannies did. You hid behind your work like a coward because you’re scared to love.”

Noel finally noticed he was standing. Pressure stacked at his temples; heat pressed against his face. It was quiet. Time itself waiting on a response. “You little piece of shit. Show some gratitude!” Noel lost his footing as he approached the retreating Shane. Yelling and cursing on his way down. His other boys deplored Shane as they picked him up.

…

He remembered her voice so well. Soft spoken, but direct. Even after being left with nothing but a kid and a home, she shined. Every meal and occasion, she made the impossible happen. Each time taking something in exchange for her efforts. Her luster faded fast.

One morning, she took Noel to the hill with the tree and sat him down. As a child, he played there all the time, playing tag, resting against the trunk. Now older, he let the hill serve as her oasis...

“Noel,” she said, “When you pick a pear from this tree, mind each fruit. Take the time to study them, look for blemishes. The more you care, the sweeter the fruit. Take this one,” she picked one up, “Already ripe. It took in nutrients too fast and rushed. Didn’t take the time to grow patiently with its brothers.” She chucked it across the field and sighed, “I won’t always be here, but the lessons from this tree extend beyond gardening. It’s helped me raise you. I hope you never forget.” Her eyes shined against the rising sun, reflecting the well of moisture she held in. Another obscure life lesson from a grieving woman.

Coming to, Noel coughed in his hand, staining red like paint. He supposed the doctors were right.

He heard muffled conversations from the kitchen and meandered closer, stopping before the threshold.

“…I’m saying, Shane. You could have been a lot nicer. Obviously, Pop is sick.” Hank’s voice.

“Agreed. It’s not like Dad was abusive. He gave us everything and took us everywhere. Granted, endless nannies, but we were taken care of.”

The sound of a chair shifted, and the faint staccato of footsteps began. “Hank, Jack. You’re a lot younger than me so this is all you know. Noel wasn’t always like this. When I was younger, he was a father. But once that first opportunity came, he jetted. The caring, kind husband slash father disappeared. Cheating. Gone for weeks at a time. Home long enough to pump out two more babies before leaving again.

Mom was sick of it. She was going to leave, but pregnancy killed her.”

Noel felt cold. Jack snapped, “Stop, you don’t know what Mom was thinking.” Another chair quickly shifted, Noel heard the shuffling of feet and muffled impacts. Hank accosted his two brothers.

“She told me everything. Constantly, Jack. It was going to happen. Right after she had you.” The room fell silent.

Noel slid down the wall. He hadn’t thought of Naomi at all. How could he? He hadn't been there for her. Through all his bullshit, she hardly wore her signature smile. And even as he was unfaithful and distant, they never argued, but he could always tell something was off. Never really stopped to understand her needs. Like his mother’s, her death crushed him. He convinced himself it was due to the lack of money. Something he experience with his mother years prior. He swore to make the best deals, sign the best clients, and accumulate as much wealth for the family he had left. But honestly, she was just stressed. Tired of him being the unfaithful and absent husband. Nowhere near the man she married. The man who promised the world.

He raised himself up and knocked softly on the kitchen threshold. The boys looked back like they had been caught in the act of something mischievous. Noel rubbed his hands and stared at the tiling before looking up. “It’s cold out, huh,” he said gesturing, “why don’t you put on coats and let me show you something on the hill.” His boys looked at each other and shrugged. “Oh, and grab one of those baskets.”

…

They started up the hill to the tree. Noel asked Shane for help. Shane acquiesced, wrapping his arms around Noel, keeping unrecognizably close. As they traipsed their way to the tree, Noel saw a world where the boys played around the tree while he and Naomi cared for it. If only he’d done this from the beginning. He sensed Shane's eyes on him. Noel kept looking forward hoping his son didn’t see the tears begin to well.

Atop the hill, Noel reached for the basket. He looked to his sons. He should have served them better. He knew the excuse he came up with all those years ago to provide the world was nowhere near as impactful as this moment. All they needed to stay afloat was him being Dad.

Noel slapped the tree's trunk. “What do you know about this pear tree?”

Hank spoke up, jokingly. “It grows pears!”

Noel cracked a smile, “But do you know it’s history?” The boys shook their heads. Shane looked unamused, but softer. “Well as your father, I should teach you something right?” Noel felt the warmth from his own smile. The boys sat around the tree as their father hobbled.

“This is a Winter Nelis Pear Tree. The seeds come from Belgium. Your grandmother's family originated from there. Antwerp, specifically.”

“Really,” Shane whispered.

“Yes, we have a pretty interesting history. That’s why we used to visit all the time. I should have told you this years ago.

They bought seeds with them as they immigrated, serving as a reminder of where they came. Most of the seeds grew fast and died relatively young. This one persisted, and the family was determined to keep it alive as a symbol of the family’s longevity. The responsibility passed down from your great-grandparents to your grandmother to me. Well… your mom did all the work. I just hired a gardener for a time after she died. I can't believe it's still here.”

Shane chimed in, “I had someone come by to take care of it all this time. I didn't know how to do it and I assumed you didn't know because I've never seen you here.”

“Who do you think taught your mom?” Noel coughed through his grin. “Now, I’ll teach you. Look, the most important part of nurturing this tree is protecting its roots. Let’s check them with this left out trowel.” Noel carefully dug near the base of the tree, exposing its roots. “You want to make sure you have a good mulch around the roots, so weeds won’t steal nutrients.” He urged them closer, “See that exposure? It's time to put down more mulch. A bag will do. Three inches down in a three-foot diameter. Do that and fertilize. You’ll only need to water it here and there. This is a mature tree, so we don't want to overdo it. Just enough to maintain its excellent health.” He worked his way to the branches. His eyes scanned the tree while his touch remained gentle.

“Feel this, boys.” He rubbed the branches holding pears. “Feel how smooth that is,” The boys agreed and Noel continued, “that's from generations of doing things right. Harvesting carefully and intimately. A lot of love went into keeping this tree healthy.”

Noel stopped, softly gasping for every new breath, and stared at the tree. Its unwavering strength a reminder to his lack of commitment. He broke through the growing silence, “I never really put much love into it. By the time it was my responsibility and your grandmother passed, your mom picked up the tradition. Damn did she do a great job…”

He paused and looked at the slightly exposed roots. He felt relief. The roots would be okay now that he’d taken the time to tend to them and teach his boys.

“C-Come over here,” Noel hobbled again, the tree hazed as the wells in his eyes overflowed. His chest in pain. “Here.” he said hushed. He reached for a pear. “This pear... is perfect for picking. Always look for blemishes- feel for hardness. This one grew the right way. Put it in a cool environment for a while, then let sit.”

The boys continued to look at the pear, intrigued. “This is my lesson to you. I hope you never forget,” Noel said, “Now look for more and put them in the basket.” They hurried around the tree, laughing, and scouting for more pears.

Noel slumped against the trunk. The first pear picked, in hand. His grown boys sounded like kids as they played and danced around the tree like they used to. He wanted to savor this moment. Naomi, at the bottom hill, looked up, finally returning a smile. Not at the kids, but at Noel. His mother, in the window, nodding her approval. Shane's voice echoed through the growing silence, breaking with each word, “Dad, I can’t forgive you for everything, but thanks for our family history and trying at least this once.”

Noel couldn't hold the pear any longer, and it rolled soft off his fingers. It was as good a time as any to finally rest.