The Uncle
Chapter I
It is not normal to stand outside while there is a tornado less than a mile away, quite in view and coming ever-closer. But this was Kansas; and Kansas is not known for doing what is normal.
As the tornado came nearer, hail began pouring down. The prairie grass rolled like a golden sea, and the branches of the cotton trees whipped in the wind.
“Bit of hail.”
The tall man was leaning against the barn, a piece of hay in his mouth, his hands in his overall pockets and a mildly interested expression on his face.
“Yes. A bit.”
The boy was a stark contrast with the man. He wore a nicely pressed shirt and slacks, shiny black dress shoes, and a pinched face.
“Shouldn’t we–” he began.
“Nah. It’ll blow eastward in a moment here.”
The two watched as the storm continued. As the minutes passed, it became clear that the storm was indeed moving east.
“Told you,” the man said cheerfully, standing up straight and stretching. “It’s always darn enjoyable to watch a storm roll in. Come on. Let’s milk the cows.”
The young man slouched behind the grown man, a dark scowl on his face as they went around the edge of the barn.
“That wasn’t safe,” he complained, running a hand through his pristine hair.
“Being alive ain’t safe. Might as well take some risks,” the man replied.
“My dear Uncle,” the boy began in a condescending tone. “I’m afraid that you fail to understand—”
“I understand enough, Marty,” his Uncle interrupted as he picked up two metal buckets off of the floor and began making his way towards the barn stalls.
“Martin,” the boy corrected.
“Martin then,” his Uncle said. There was a sad expression on his face that Martin didn’t understand. “Here, take your bucket,” the Uncle said, proffering the object.
Marty’s face wrinkled and he primly took the bucket. “In Harvard–” he started.
“I don’t give a lick for how they milk the cows in Harvard,” his Uncle said, snapping the door of his stall shut with a bang.
Marty sighed. He did not understand his Uncle. Ever since he began learning the ways of the real world he had tried to correct the dear old man, but the stubborn fellow didn’t want to learn. Well, when he graduated and became a doctor, then maybe his Uncle would finally start going along with the times.
Chapter II
1 Year Later
Marty stood in front of the old farmhouse with two of his Harvard friends beside him. One of the friends cleared his throat.
“This is where you live?”
“Lived,” Marty said. “My home, as you know, is now in Harvard with the rest of the students.”
The door of the farmhouse suddenly opened, as if the person on the other side had been listening to the conversation. The Uncle stood there, unshaved and wearing a pair of blue overalls.
“Well, are you coming in?” He asked.
“Yes, I thank you,” Marty said crisply, striding up the porch, his friends trailing behind him.
The house was tidy, but shabby.
Marty was ashamed of it.
Glancing at his Harvard colleagues, he saw their expressions of distaste. Could not his Uncle have got up a little something for the visitors?
“There’s some cornbread,” his Uncle said kindly, gesturing to the golden food. “Eat as much as you want.”
The students ate a small amount, but after the delicacies they were used to in the homes in Harvard, the food tasted like dust in their mouths. Marty’s Uncle didn’t seem to notice it.
“Well, it’s milking time,” he said, glancing at the clock. “You reckon you can help me with the milking, Marty? It’s been a long time since we did it together, and it goes much quicker when there are extra hands.”
Marty felt his face burn as his friends watched him for a reaction.
“No thank you, Uncle,” he said in a freezing tone. “I will stay with the company while you milk the cows.”
“Ahh. I see,” his Uncle replied. He slowly stood up from his rocking chair and left the house.
The visitors did not stay long after the Uncle returned from his milking. With false words of how much they had enjoyed their time on the farm, they quickly made ready to leave and returned to the train station where they would be taken back to Harvard. Marty was the last to leave the house.
“You’ll be graduating this spring,” his Uncle said as Marty opened the door.
“Yes, and taking a job in Harvard as a medical assistant immediately after,” Marty said.
His Uncle’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I’d reckoned it’d be so,” he muttered. “Well, I guess I’ll see you during this Christmas vacation, then.”
Marty shook his head. “I’m staying with a classmate over Christmas. I’m sorry.”
“Then I’ll see you at your graduation,” his Uncle said huskily. “I’ll be seeing you, Marty—Martin.”
Chapter III
5 Years Later
Marty stood in front of the farmhouse again, but this time he was alone. Dressed in an expensive suit, he had a slightly irritated yet concerned look on his face.
A man came out of the house, but it was not the Uncle.
“Dr. Martin?” He asked, stepping down off the porch to shake hands. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Yes,” Marty said, frowning. “It is most unfortunate that this happened right before I had scheduled to open my own medical practice. I assume you are also a doctor?”
The man nodded. “Indeed. Come on inside. I assume you would like to see him?”
Marty followed the man into the house. They walked up the old creaking stairs and into a small loft bedroom. Lying in bed was the Uncle. His appearance had barely changed since five years ago. His chin was roughly shaved, his thick brown hair showing only hints of gray, and his long hands were brown and lined.
“Marty,” he said, coughing.
“Uncle,” Marty nodded to him civilly. “I received news that you were unwell.”
“I’ll be up in a day or two,” his Uncle said, smiling weakly.
“I’ll discuss his condition with you downstairs,” the Doctor said to Marty. “I’m sure you are willing to take care of him?”
Marty felt his Uncle’s eyes watching him. He nodded curtly.
“Of course.”
Downstairs the Doctor’s face was grim.
“His condition is very serious,” he said. “A bad case of consumption. I don’t believe he’ll last much longer.”
Marty blinked in surprise. “What?”
The Doctor nodded. “It’s mighty kind of you to be willing to take care of him. A new graduate of Harvard, correct? You’re twenty-five, I believe, and quite capable?”
Marty nodded. “Yes, I am more than capable. But please, tell me; how long do you think he’ll live? I have a medical practice I was hoping to start in Philadelphia this month.”
“I’d give him six months to live,” the Doctor said. “I’m sure that your practice can wait.”
After the Doctor had left, Marty went up to care for his Uncle.
“Mighty good of you to come, Marty,” his Uncle said quietly, leaning back on the pillows. “I’ve been puttin’ a brave face on it, but it’s been darn bad.”
“I understand,” Marty said.
But deep down, his heart was in Philadelphia, thinking about the medical practice he had waited so long to start.
“You’re the last in our family,” his Uncle said abruptly. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take over the farm? I won’t be here forever.”
Marty shook his head. “Of course not, Uncle. I went to Harvard to become a doctor, not a farmer.”
“Ahh,” his Uncle said. “You know, you could be a doctor here as well as in Philadelphia.”
Marty shook his head once more. “I’m not coming back to Kansas.”
As the weeks went by, Marty felt himself growing more and more cross and impatient. He was desperate to get back to Philadelphia.
After a dull month and a half, he decided that he was going to contact the local doctor and ask him if he could find a nurse to stay with his Uncle during the last few months of his life. The doctor replied at once, but asked Marty if he was sure he wanted to leave his last living family member at this time. Marty answered, telling him that his mind was made up.
Marty climbed the stairs to tell his Uncle the news.
When the Uncle saw Marty, he beamed. “Marty!” He said. He had long stopped calling Marty by his formal name ‘Martin’ despite all of Marty’s requests.
“I have news, Uncle,” Marty said. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but pushing it away continued. “I have found a local nurse to take my place caring for you. I must get back to my practice in Philadelphia.”
His Uncle’s smile faded and the light in his clear blue eyes went out.
“I see…” he said, in a voice so quiet Marty almost couldn’t hear it. “I see. It’s just…I know I don’t got much longer, Marty. I’ve known for some time.”
“Well…yes,” Marty said stiffly. “I’m…going to get ready to go, for I am leaving tomorrow.” Turning, he went back downstairs.
A little later as Marty was carrying dinner up to his Uncle, he caught sight of the man’s face in the dim light. Marty froze mid-step, staring.
There were silent tears coursing down his Uncle’s face as he stared out of the window. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and wiped his eyes on the patched sheets, but continued to silently weep. Marty heard him mutter,
“You oughtn’t to be selfish, Ben. He’s a young’un who wants to see the world, not get bogged down by old dying folks like you.”
Marty silently backed down the stairs, a very strange feeling in his chest. He placed the tray of food aside and sat down in the rocking chair, thinking hard.
Suddenly, something fell off of a nearby shelf.
Marty jumped in surprise, then cursed himself for being so jumpy. Going over to what had fallen, he picked up a stack of old letters. He was going to put them away when a name on the return address caught his eye.
Mary Anne.
Mary Anne? His Uncle had never spoken of a Mary Anne. Surely his Uncle would not mind if he looked at these letters. They were exceedingly old.
Marty sat back down, and undoing the bundle, he picked up the first letter and opened it.
May 1, 1867
Dear Ben,
Must you stay in Kansas? You had said that we would be married; and with my parents getting older I cannot bear to leave them in Connecticut, even for you. I understand that your orphaned nephew is important to you, and it must be a terrible shock to have your brother and sister-in-law dead with a newborn baby on your hands all at once. I am so sorry. Still, I do not want to be the mother of a child that is not my own. Please see if there’s a family in Kansas that will take him.
Love,
Mary
Marty sat in surprise for a moment. His Uncle had been in love? He had been engaged? Marty quickly opened the next letter.
May 7th, 1867
Dearest Mary,
You know that I can’t leave the family farm. It’s been in our family for decades, and I won’t leave it behind. I can’t leave little Marty behind, neither. He’s my brother’s son, and I love him. I reckon that you aren’t willing to continue with the engagement now?
Lots of love,
Your Ben
Marty opened the next letter.
June 5th, 1867
Dear Ben,
I understand why you will not leave Kansas, and I know that you understand why I won’t leave Connecticut. I love you and have for years, but it seems as though if we can’t agree on something like this, we won’t be able to agree on other things either. I believe it is time to part ways. I am sending back your letters.
God bless you.
-Mary
Several of the next letters had either Mary Anne’s or his Uncle’s names on them. They must have been the letters written before they had separated.
Suddenly, a new address caught his eye…and the name shocked him.
Harvard University.
Marty opened it and scanned the contents eagerly.
Dear Benjamin Johnson,
We are pleased to inform you that you have won the scholarship. All of your college expenses are paid, besides books and uniforms. We look forward to meeting you and welcoming you into medical school.
Sincerely,
Prof. William Fredrickson, Harvard University
Marty was stunned. His Uncle had been invited into Harvard’s medical program? Why hadn’t he gone? There was one more letter from Harvard in the stack. Marty ripped it open.
Dear Benjamin Johnson,
We regret to hear that family affairs keep you from accepting your scholarship. We will miss seeing you in our medical program.
Best of hopes,
Prof. William Fredrickson, Harvard University
The last piece of paper on the stack was a newspaper article. Marty unfolded it and read the following:
The famous millionaire Theodore Harris was recently married to a Miss Mary Anne Dickonson on October 12th, 1870. Miss Mary Anne, now Mrs. Theodore Harris, was quoted saying, “I wouldn’t be with anyone else besides my Theodore. He is the man I have waited for all of my life.”
Mary Anne and Theodore will be going abroad for two months on their honeymoon.
Marty sat in silence, the papers sitting in his lap. He had never felt so horrible. He knew that his Uncle had given up the girl he loved so that he could take care of him, Marty. He also knew too well what the “family affairs” had been that had kept his Uncle from enrolling at Harvard. His Uncle had been too busy taking care of him.
Marty suddenly remembered all the days growing up when his Uncle had come in from town looking tired and worn. He also remembered how surprised and utterly delighted he had been when his Uncle suddenly produced enough money for him to attend Harvard. Before, Marty had wondered where the money had come from. He now realized that his Uncle had worked long, hard hours in town to save up for him.
And how had Marty returned his Uncle’s kindness? He had left him for Harvard without looking back once, too excited about the future to remember his wonderful past. He had returned on his first vacation to complain and to try to boss his Uncle around. He had rarely visited after that, leaving his Uncle alone for the summer and the holidays, and when he brought friends from school he had been ashamed of his home and had made sure his Uncle knew it.
And now, when the man was dying of consumption, all Marty had wanted to do was leave him so he could start his own medical practice far, far away.
Recalling his Uncle’s tears a few minutes before, Marty felt tears filling in his own eyes and dripping down his face. How wonderful his childhood had been! How happy and satisfied had been the evenings sitting on the porch watching the sun setting over the prairies. How understanding his Uncle had been when the old dog had died, and how kind he had been to come into Marty’s room every night for a week to hold him while he wept over the lost canine.
“I have been a terrible nephew,” Marty said. “I do not deserve such a wonderful man to be my Uncle.”
Looking out the window, Marty saw a brilliant Kansas sunset. The sky was scarlet, the clouds purple, and the evening star glinted brightly.
Marty took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he re-sealed all the letters and the newspaper article, tied them up, and put them back on the shelf where they belonged.
There was a knock at the door, and Marty opened it to see a young woman standing there with a bag in her hand.
“I’m sorry that I’m early,” she said. “I am the nurse to take care of your Uncle.”
Marty shook his head. “Thank you, but he is already cared for. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Oh, I see,” the nurse said, blinking in surprise. “I shall go back into town then. Good evening.”
“Good evening,” Marty replied.
Marty climbed the stairs, carrying the tray with his Uncle’s dinner on it. When he entered the room, the man was fast asleep. Marty could see a few shining tears still on the bed sheets. This man had suffered so much—had given up so much—for him.
It was time for Marty to be the best nephew he could be.
Marty quietly set the tray on the table beside his Uncle’s bed, and sat down to wait till he woke. He did so a few minutes later, and opening his eyes the Uncle gave Marty a big smile, as if nothing had happened the hour before.
“Evenin’ Marty,” he said.
“Evening, Uncle,” Marty said quietly, handing him the food. As his Uncle ate, Marty stared out the window as the night came on.
“I have news, Uncle,” he said.
His Uncle stopped eating mid-bite. He set the food down as though he had suddenly lost his appetite.
“That so?”
“Yes. I am not leaving to start my medical practice. In fact, I’m not starting a practice at all. I’m staying here. Forever. I’ll take over the family farm when you’re gone, and I’m going to stay here and take care of you, no matter what.”
The Uncle sat in shock, staring at him for a moment. “You mustn’t, Marty…” he whispered. “You’ve worked so hard…”
“Do not try to convince me otherwise,” Marty said firmly.
His Uncle gazed at him for a few minutes longer before beginning to cry. Reaching across the bed, he enfolded his nephew in a great embrace that was made none the lesser by his weakening limbs. Marty wept too, into his Uncle’s shoulder like he had as a little boy.
“I’m never leaving you, Uncle,” he whispered. “Never.”
As the months went on and the Uncle became weaker and weaker, Marty never thought again of his practice. He waited on his Uncle hand and foot, and although the man never asked for much, Marty’s presence did much for the dying man.
One evening Marty carried his Uncle down the stairs so that they could sit on the porch and watch the sunset like they had long ago. The Uncle sat in a rocking chair and Marty sat at his feet. Together they watched the sunset come.
The prairie grass was long and whispered in the wind. The sun was bright and fiery. The sky was a mix of red, pink, purple, and blue, and high above there were the stars slowly fading into view.
“I’m ready to go see Jesus now,” the Uncle said presently. “I’ve waited all my life for this.”
“I shall miss you, Uncle,” Marty said, feeling a catch in his throat and a smarting of his eyes.
“You’ll be with me soon enough,” the Uncle said gently, laying a hand on Marty’s head. “You know the Man who is the answer to it all.”
Marty nodded. He knew it. He had forgotten that Man for some time during his years of ambition and selfishness, but as he had cared for his Uncle he had remembered the truth he had followed as a boy.
“I love you, Marty,” the Uncle said.
“I love you, Uncle.”
There was a long silence. When Marty looked up again, his Uncle was gone, his strong sun-browned hand still lying on Marty’s head.
Chapter IV
Ten Years Later
Marty watched his children run around the farmhouse yard, laughing and talking together. He was sitting on the porch in the rocking chair, watching the sunset coming. He was remembering that sad yet beautiful night exactly ten years ago.
“Bless the dear fellow,” he murmured to himself. “God knows that he showed me the way.”
About the Author:
E. G. Runyan is an aspiring author who has been writing stories almost as long as she can remember. Her greatest aspiration is to live a life for Jesus Christ and to write a story that will point others to His Story: the greatest story of all. In her spare time she enjoys writing, cats, puns, losing at chess, and waiting for her letter of acceptance from Hogwarts to arrive (she insists that it’s late).
Link to Blog: https://emmathebard.wixsite.com/egrunyan
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