Fiction:

The Birch Tree

by Lynne Larson

She was always there, like a great stone face looking down on them from the prominent pinnacle of her own importance. She was the vast image superimposed on their horizon, the ever-present shadow on their youthful, sunburned shoulders. She was Bobby’s mother, Sister Eustacia M. Broderick, stake Relief Society president and stalwart Mormon matriarch par excellence. She was also the first person Kelly Sue thought of whenever she felt guilty, and in spite of Peru and Bobby’s new haircut and all the excitement of anticipation, Kelly Sue felt guilty now.

It wasn’t, certainly, that Bobby was unworthy of his mission, or that Kelly Sue had somehow sullied his honorable intentions by some inappropriate word or deed. Thank heaven she did not have to answer for anything like that! Outwardly she had given Bobby nothing but encouragement about his mission. And discounting a gentle arm across the shoulder, an affectionate clasping of hands, and an occasional kiss usually stolen beneath the birch tree that dominated the south corner of Bobby’s yard, their friendship had been what it was always meant to be, innocent, fresh, uncomplicated.

Except that for as long as Kelly Sue could remember, Bobby had been there, across the cedar fence which separated their back lot gardens, shooting marbles at eight, baskets at ten, and leaning on the gate at seventeen to tease and flirt and finally win the heart of the girl next door. And now the boy next door was leaving, going clear to Peru for 18 months, while his mother, Sister Eustacia Broderick, stood valiantly by, eager for him to fulfill the Lord’s call, as firm and resolute as Kelly Sue was miserable, as vocal as Kelly Sue was silent, as proud as Kelly Sue was ashamed. Bobby was marching off to serve the Lord, and Kelly Sue wondered gloomily if she might ever be forgiven for being so unhappy.

“There was never any question about whether Bobby would go on a mission,” said Sister Broderick from the pulpit. It was Bobby’s last Sunday at home, and the pews overflowed with family and friends and well-wishers, and Kelly Sue sat transfixed by Bobby’s new pinstriped demeanor. He sat to the right of his father with his new set of scriptures on his knee, looking oddly mature for his 19 years. “The prophet has decreed that every young man should serve a mission,” Sister Broderick declared. “Every young man. And Bobby has never considered doing otherwise.” Kelly Sue spotted the natural arch of Sister Broderick’s left eyebrow and noted how it always seemed to be raised in judgment, even when she smiled. Kelly Sue had always been in awe of this woman, Bobby’s mother, and now her words rang convincingly across the chapel pews. “There was never any question,” she repeated, “about Bobby following the advice of his leaders, about his going into the mission field to serve the Lord in bringing the gospel to others.”

Sister Broderick paused for only an instant and then stepped back to begin anew. The arch of her brow seemed higher than ever to Kelly Sue and her tone did not soften. “There is a birch tree in the south corner of our yard,” she said, “as straight and tall and fine a tree as any backyard could wish for. Through the years we’ve carved notches in the bark of that birch to mark the growth of our son Bobby.”

Kelly Sue saw Bobby’s shoulders stiffen proudly against the back of his chair as he watched his mother and knew what she might say. Kelly Sue stiffened too, but her pride in Bobby was overshadowed by the cold ache she felt and could not smother in spite of Sister Broderick’s stirring words. “There’s a mark on that tree about this high,” she declared, measuring up from the floor with her hand. “That’s the day Bobby started Primary 16 years ago. There’s a special notch a little further up that we made the day he was baptized, and another to mark his being ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood.” Sister Broderick paused again, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin before she continued, “We carved the latest notch in the birch tree last week when Bobby was made an elder. He’s grown so tall I had to stand on tiptoe to see the mark was straight.”

Kelly Sue closed her eyes and envisioned the little family ceremony in her mind. Bobby had stood self-consciously but proudly against the tree with his dog Max yapping happily around his feet, while his mother had indeed reached on tiptoe to mark the tree just at the top of his head. His father had snapped pictures of the two of them and then had carved a more conspicuous notch in the tree with his pocket knife. “I remember the day Bobby started Primary,” Sister Broderick had told Kelly Sue, rubbing her fingers across the first notch. “He bawled like a baby and didn’t want to go, can you imagine?” Her fingers lingered momentarily at the notch, but she moved away when she caught Kelly Sue’s eye. “Yes, he did,” she said. “He cried like a baby.”

“Seems to me,” drawled Brother Broderick, “he did the same thing when he was eight. He was scared to death of the baptismal font. Cried all the way to the stake house.”

Bobby, who was pleasantly taking all of this while leaning against the tree with his arm draped around Kelly Sue, looked casually at the new notch nearby. “I won’t cry over this one,” he said. “I’ve never been so excited in my life.”

Back in the chapel Kelly Sue decided that Bobby’s mother was pretty excited too. “That birch tree has always pointed to the stars,” she was saying, “and so do the notches measuring Bobby. He has grown into as straight and tall and fine a young man as any family could want, and as a mother I could not be more proud to send him to Peru and follow the voice of the prophet!”

Sister Broderick sat down, but for Kelly Sue the remainder of the meeting was a blur. Even Bobby’s farewell speech, so sweet and determined and sincere, left her feeling weak. She longed to escape the reality of his leaving. She longed for a return to those warm summer evenings, walking hand in hand with Bobby around the lilac bushes or through McCarty’s orchard as they took a shortcut from school. She longed for the feel of laughter by the lake, the burn of wind on the ski lift, the taste of homemade ice cream on the patio in July. She wanted to be chased across the ball field, to end up rolling in a wild, bruising tackle executed by either Bobby or usually Max, yapping at the top of his canine lungs. She yearned to stroll around the birch tree alone with Bobby and carve her own memories into its pale gray trunk. She yearned for all these things and felt ashamed and guilty because of them. Sister Broderick was right. Bobby’s bent was toward the stars; how could she ever want to hold him, clinging to the past?

“It’s not that I don’t think he’s doing the right thing,” Kelly Sue said to her mother the morning Bobby was scheduled to leave for the Mission Training Center in Utah. “I know he is.” She was watching from the front window as Brother and Sister Broderick were busily loading their car with Bobby’s luggage and books. Bobby himself, carrying a garment bag containing his new suits, waved to her from the street and motioned for her to join him. Kelly Sue was planning to go with him to the airport, but she hesitated now, pondering the car through the window, the car with all of its trappings of imminent departure, and Sister Broderick valiantly standing by, orchestrating the whole affair as if she had planned it for a lifetime. And indeed she had.

“I know he’s doing the right thing,” Kelly Sue repeated, and her mother joined her at the window, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “But I’m young, and I’ll miss him,” she added, suddenly releasing a flood of emotion. “I’ll miss him so much that down deep in my heart I wish he weren’t going, and I feel terrible about it, just terrible.”

“We’ll all miss him, Kelly Sue,” her mother whispered, pressing a finger to the girl’s cheek to catch an errant tear. “You needn’t feel guilty about that.”

Kelly Sue faced the window again, focusing her eyes on Sister Eustacia Broderick as she efficiently packed the last piece of luggage into the car. “She’s so strong,” Kelly Sue breathed. “How can she always be so strong, so faithful? Bobby adores her. He wishes I were more like her. I know he does.”

“Sister Broderick is a wonderful woman,” returned her mother quickly. “I’ve seen her raise Bobby from a child into a fine young man, and I’m sure she loves him, but people show love in different ways, just as Bobby loves you for yourself just as you are.” Kelly Sue’s eyes were still on Sister Broderick standing across the drive, and her mother’s final words, though lovingly said, cut into her heart more painfully than she could imagine. “Try not to feel anger or resentment toward Sister Broderick for somehow taking Bobby away from you and sending him on a mission. She’s really not to blame.”

The words tiptoed through her mind for the remainder of the day. She remembered them as she stood with his family and waved him out of sight amidst the farewell chorus of a dozen familiar, happy voices. And at the center of it all was Sister Broderick, straight and determined and tearless, bidding her only son good-bye, and Kelly Sue suddenly knew that her mother was right. She had resented Sister Broderick, just as she had been intimidated through the years by her constant presence in the backyard of Bobby’s life as well as her own. Her steadfast attitude regarding Bobby’s mission was the final straw. Surely there was some room for wistfulness, for nostalgia, for the longing and ache that is naturally part of a long farewell. Yet, Sister Eustacia Broderick displayed a need for none of these, so firm was her faith in what Bobby was doing.

Kelly Sue said her prayers early that evening. Alone in her bedroom, still fully clothed, with the last rays of an orange sunset still flooding her window, she knelt down to come to grips with her feelings. She was determined not to cringe in Sister Broderick’s shadow for the next 18 months, not to be burdened by her presence, not to let anything negative come between herself and the yard across the back fence. Finally, in the midst of her prayer, she knew she wouldn’t have to. She imagined Bobby in Peru, saw him greeting people and loving them. She saw how his unique charm was brightening their lives, as it had hers for as long as she could remember. And suddenly she was proud, too, proud to share her own best friend with all those people who needed him.

“Thank you, Sister Broderick,” she said aloud, as the warmth of understanding and reconciliation swelled within her and a genuine smile played along her lips for the first time in days. “You knew it all the while, didn’t you?” she added triumphantly, still speaking to the woman from the house next door, who was no longer a threat but an example.

From across the fence, Kelly Sue heard the Broderick’s back door open and knew someone had come out. With new resolve she bounded down her own stairs, determined to complete the reconciliation by telling Sister Broderick how she felt, by apologizing, by making peace at last, if only within herself.

She hurried through the grass by her own yard, past the garden and the clothesline, straight to the gate of the high cedar fence, hoping to keep the light for a few minutes more. She moved quietly through the gate and looked curiously toward the house which seemed veiled and silent, even gloomy in the twilight. No one seemed to be around. Even Max had apparently retired to his favorite corner of the garage.

“He never was a very good watch dog,” Kelly Sue laughed inwardly, happy now in the warm evening air. She looked over Bobby’s backyard, filled with so many memories, for one last time, just as the darkness settled in, and she was about to turn again to her own gate when she was caught short by an odd sound coming from the south corner, through the lilac bushes, by the birch tree.

It began as a whimper and at first Kelly Sue thought a kitten may have become tangled between the fence slats at the end of the yard. She moved silently now, not wishing to disturb the house, and it was only as she neared the birch tree that the form huddled against the trunk became apparent in the shadows. It was Sister Broderick, slightly illuminated by the silky white bathrobe she wore, so that even in the gathering darkness Kelly Sue could see the woman’s cheek pressed against the bark of the tree as her fingers ran gently over a notch of memory carved nearby. Sister Broderick was weeping, softly, controllably, but most assuredly weeping, as though her heart would crack. And the silent old tree stood beside her, straight and unswayed in the darkness.

Kelly Sue crept quietly back to her own gate, her own yard, her own bedroom. From a window there she viewed Bobby’s birch tree for the next 18 months, standing straight and tall in the corner of his yard, realizing somehow that she was no longer very young anymore.

Illustrated by Lori Anderson