All Over Creation (62 page)

Science, unlike theology, never leads to insanity.

—Luther Burbank, from “Why I Am an Infidel,” published in
Little Blue Book #1020

My father died without a feeding tube on the first Sunday of September. It happened several hours after he spoke his last words, and he dissolved so quietly out of life that Momoko and I missed the moment of transition. We were by his bedside, but we had both dozed off, and maybe he was waiting for us to do so. It's hard to check out when your loved ones are watching.

That same Sunday, September 5, the
New York Times
ran an article entitled “Hidden Traps in Fooling Mother Nature,” which outlined in some detail the potential environmental hazards that could result from genetic engineering and the biotechnologies. Geek downloaded the article from the
Times
's Web site, and the Seeds rejoiced, and they decided Lloyd was rejoicing with them, wherever he was.

On that same morning when Lloyd's heart gave its final palpitation, the first frost of autumn settled on the fields, freezing the potato vines and signaling the start of harvest. Will and his crew would spend the next few days beating the plants. Some of the farmers used chemical desiccants like diquat, paraquat, Enquik, and Endothall. Others used sulfuric acid. But, as Will carefully pointed out to Geek, whenever it was possible, he preferred to kill mechanically what the frost left standing. After the plants were dead, he would wait for three weeks, leaving the potatoes in the ground so their skins could thicken, and then came the real race—to dig the tubers out of the ground before the hard frosts set. That was where a little rotten luck could do you in.

So it was a busy time of year for all of Idaho's farmers, but this didn't keep the people of Liberty Falls from gathering at the Falls Mortuary to pay their final respects. Geek had sent out notices for the memorial service, and many of my parents' longtime customers had come, as had some of the Seeds' friends. Everyone packed into the chapel for the service, which was led by Reverend Glass. The old minister looked around at the variegated congregation, at the local folks and out-of-towners, the gardeners and hippies, the pornographers and members of the Tri-County Interfaith League of Family Values, and he read to us from Paul's letter to the Corinthians. “ ‘Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die....'”

 

 

We followed the casket to the cemetery. The grass was as green as the town golf course, and the newly dug grave was raw and shocking, a perfect gaping rectangle of naked earth, just the size for a flower bed. Reverend Glass said a few last words as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Earth to earth and dust to dust. Being mostly farmers and gardeners, the people who'd come to watch understood this, and they stayed until the very end, because you would never walk away from a seed half planted. Then, when the last few shovelfuls were placed, people stepped forward and took turns planting a few seeds of their own in the newly turned soil. It was primarily a symbolic act. Only some of the seeds would overwinter, to germinate in the spring, but nobody seemed to mind. They planted and spoke.

“I'm Ellen Anderson. I've been a customer of Fullers' Seeds for about twenty-two years now. I met Mr. and Mrs. Fuller one time on vacation with my husband, God rest his soul. We saw the sign for Fullers' Seeds on the roadside, and we stopped and bought some melon seeds. Hearts of Gold and Mr. Uglys. My husband loved those melons, and I've kept them going in his memory, and I'll continue for Mr. Fuller, too, but I'm seventy-three years old, and I only got a backyard garden plot, and you know how melons like to spread. I'd appreciate some help from some of you young people here.”

“I'm Joe Delaney. I live just west of here, over in Idaho Falls, but I was born here in Liberty Falls, and . . . well, I've known Lloyd since we was boys. Used to farm potatoes, too, but couldn't keep up. Well, I live with my son and his wife now. They both got jobs with computers and such, but they got a nice place with a garden, and they've signed on to keep a couple of the beans going. We always liked Lloyd's beans.”

“My name's Edith McCann, and I'm sure going to miss Lloyd's newsletters. I subscribe to several magazines, but I always read Lloyd's newsletter first. I'm cultivating three of Momoko's squashes, and I just hope I can keep them growing true, but if anybody gets any strange crosses from my seeds, you be sure to let me know.”

“I'm Will Quinn. My wife and I live next door to the Fullers, and I've been farming Lloyd's acreage for the past twenty or so years now. I guess we're going to take on some of his peas and whatever else gets left over. Lloyd was a good farmer and a good neighbor.”

“I'm Cass Quinn. I've lived next to Lloyd and Momoko all my life. I'm going to miss Lloyd. He was a good man.”

“My name is Ocean Fuller, and Lloyd is my
kupuna,
and I was scared of him at first, but now I just love him a lot. I didn't bring a seed, but I brought an egg from Chicken Little instead, and I
know
they don't grow this way, but Grandpa likes eggs, so I'm gonna plant it anyway.”

“I'm Phoenix. Lloyd was my grandfather, too. We only met him this year for the first time. I wish we'd known him for longer. He was totally awesome. He was a prophet of the Revolution.”

And on it went. Momoko didn't speak, and neither did I. We just stood side by side, and we listened. Geek spoke for the Seeds of Resistance. He told how they'd come to Liberty Falls, what they'd learned from Lloyd and Momoko, and how much Lloyd's support had meant to their cause. “He was a man of vision. Don't let his dying nightmare become our living reality!” Geek was never one to pass up an opportunity to spread the word.

Elliot didn't speak, because, really, what could he have said? It was hard to believe he had come at all. Phoenix was standing next to me, glaring murderously. Lilith was doing likewise. Will barely acknowledged him with a nod, and Cass ignored him completely. Elliot stayed in the background and tried to catch my eye, and when the graveside ceremony drew to a close and the mourners dispersed, he intercepted me. Poo was getting heavy, so I set him down on the sod. Elliot took my hands.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he said.

I pulled away. I didn't want to be standing there by Lloyd's newly dug grave holding hands with Elliot.

“Yummy, I know this is a hard time, but we have to talk.”

“Now . . . ?” I could see Cass looking over at us with her arms folded. The kids were already in the car.

“No. I'm at the motel. I'll call you. Or just come.”

“Please don't call. It'll only upset Phoenix. He's furious that you're here.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Listen, Yummy, I have to tell you. I've . . . left my job.”

I didn't know quite what to say. “That's good, I guess. Is it?” I looked around for Poo.

“It's amazing. I feel, I don't know, reborn or something.” He took a deep breath. “Yummy, a lot has gone wrong between us, but it's time for a fresh start. Will you come tonight? So we can talk?”

Poo had crawled back over to the edge of the grave. His fists were deep in the freshly dug dirt, and his face was smeared. I knelt down next to him and pulled his hands away, scooping around inside his mouth with my finger and bringing out clots of grass and mud. I wiped his face with the sleeve of my coat, and he began to whimper. Elliot was standing above me.

“Why did you come?” I asked.

“I needed to apologize to your father. I want to make amends to you.”

He stood there at the gravesite, looking eager and contrite. “Please,” he said. “Yummy. Yumi . . .”

“All right,” I said.

 

 

Oh, God, how nice it would be if the story could just end here! With Lloyd's earthly body dead and buried in the ground and his heavenly body in transit to the hereafter. With his seeds safely disseminated, his wife wading in shallows of forgetfulness, and his daughter poised on the threshold of reconciliation with her onetime rapist. I could turn over the farmhouse to the Quinns and take Momoko and the kids back to Hawaii. Elliot could join us, and Phoenix would learn to tolerate his new stepdad, or he wouldn't. Cass and Will could get back to their business of growing potatoes, a little lonelier—no, a lot lonelier—than before, and the Seeds of Resistance could pack up the Spudnik and move along down the road, sowing their message and saving the world.

How nice it would be. . . .

Wouldn't it?

Impossible to say, because something went suddenly and terribly wrong in the story. It may simply have been an accident, random and tragic, a bit of very bad luck. Or it may have been something far more sinister—a rogue element set loose in Liberty Falls, who knew about Lloyd's passing and when the funeral was scheduled to start. Maybe he watched us leave the farmhouse that morning, all dressed in black, crammed into the Pontiac and the Quinns' Suburban. Maybe he parked on the side of the road and slipped down the driveway, knowing no one would be there. I can imagine him, shadowlike, skirting the barn and moving toward the parked Winnebago. Maybe he'd been inside before.

Geek would say that when you release an agent, randomly and carelessly, into an environment, it follows that all hell breaks loose, but even Geek was blindsided. “I expected a fallout,” he said, broken and bewildered. “Just not like this.”

 

 

The mourners brought casseroles and salads and roasts and gratins. They brought brownies and cookies and pies. Following the service, they reconvened at our house for a supper, which had been precisely coordinated by the members of the Ladies' Aid Society. They had preassigned the courses in order to avoid an insufficiency of meats or an overabundance of side dishes. They brought the floral arrangements from the funeral home and placed them in the parlor. They greeted the guests and took their coats, steering them past the flowers toward the food, which they had set up buffet style in the kitchen.

Reverend Glass was one of the first to arrive, accompanied by members of the congregation. The president of the Chamber of Commerce was next, then the veterans from the local VFW, who had fought alongside both Lloyd and Will in their respective wars. Sheriff Odell brought his wife. The men from the Potato Growers Association arrived with their families, looking stiff and uncertain about mingling with the gardeners and the hippies. They greeted Momoko, then stood apart and admired the floral wreaths. The wives sneaked sidelong glances at me. They helped themselves to potato salad. They ate ham.

It is said that the brain retains the moments that precede a disaster with preternatural clarity. Time slows—or so it seems—and images linger, imprinted on the memory like shadows on a retina, bloated with light. I had put Poo down for his nap in my bedroom, then changed out of the black dress I'd borrowed from Cass for the funeral and put on something loose and yellow and, by Liberty Falls standards, entirely outlandish. Downstairs, amid all the somber funereal garb, I felt like a dislocated sun on an overcast day. Geek had brought a bottle of rum from the greenhouse and stashed it in the kitchen, and I drifted through the roomful of my parents' friends drinking a heavily spiked Coke. Little groups of ladies eddied around me, patting my arm and telling me over and over what a good man my father had been until I wanted to scream.
Yes!
He was a good man, and a lot of other things, too, but I didn't say anything. I just wanted them all to finish up and leave. I was half thinking about Elliot, wondering what he had to say and if I even cared anymore. I spotted Ocean and called to her. She threaded her way toward me through the forest of legs.

“Geek's taking us out to the Spudnik, Mom,” Ocean said. “This scene is a drag.”

I agreed. I gave her a polite smile and a little pat, something I'd picked up from the ladies. She looked at me like I was weird, then headed over to where Geek was standing with Phoenix at the edge of the crowded room. I caught his eye.

“Thanks.” I mouthed the word, pointing to my children. He held up his fingers in a peace sign. He was trying to help. Things had been strained between us. A lot had happened since we'd shared blue drinks in the hammock.

I was dying to slip away, too, but I didn't want to leave Momoko. She was doing a pretty good job pretending to recognize all the people who approached her, but I didn't know how much longer she could keep it up. I watched as she straightened a lampshade and noticed that one of Lloyd's labels was attached to it. The label said LAMPSHADE. It was the last normal thing I recall.