Free Monthly #38 Kirk & Evervine (4)
Part of the Community Fiction Series of Short Stories!
Introduction
One of the on and off series I’ve been thinking about and writing down ideas for is what I’ll describe (for now) as “utopian”. Utopian in the sense that the society has “figured out how to remain civil” while still having strife and adversity to keep humanity progressing towards perfection. Take that as you will.
This is a direct continuation of an earlier short story and by clicking here, you can view previous short stories.
Community Fiction | Kirk & Evervine (Community 4)
4: Patron
When the Evervine job finished, Kirk quit his job. He traveled to his parents for their annual family reunion. His arrival day was a surprise to everyone. Kirk hadn’t shown up for years. His brother, sisters, and their families arrived the day prior.
Kirk gazed at the kids frolicking in his parent’s spacious backyard. The thrilled screams of utmost joy warmed his heart. It had been a long time since he’d seen the place, and longer still since he’d seen anyone play in the backyard. His younger brother and his football friends were playing the day Kirk moved out.
“It’s nice having you back, Kirk.” He turned to face his mother. She’d been busy in the kitchen when he arrived but managed a brief, loving, hug before seeing how burnt the pie was. She handed Kirk a glass of iced lemonade.
“Thanks, Mom. It has been a long time.”
“Your father is concerned about you.”
“Isn’t he always?”
“’Our Wayward Son’ he says when we speak of you.”
“No different than him, aren’t I?”
Kirk’s mother sat in a nearby lawn chair. Her features stoic as she watched the game of tag climax. “He was.”
“What did Grandad think of him?”
“Old Obé?”
“Yeah.” Kirk sipped his drink and briefly felt like he was fifteen again.
“He and Grandma Mary were never satisfied with him since childhood. Your father told me the most approval he received from them was when he and I showed up to announce our engagement.”
Kirk nodded, thinking hard about what little he remembered of his grandparents. How could he not know they were patrons of Evervine, an agora hundreds of miles away? Why were they? “Is that why he barely shook my hand when he saw me?”
“Your father has a lot on his mind.”
“Isn’t he retired?”
“Yes.”
“What could be occupying his mind so much so he barely acknowledged me?”
“Why don’t you ask me?” The deep, dulcet voice came from behind Kirk.
Kirk spun and saw his father leaning in the doorway. “I—just. Listen, my last job made me rethink some things.”
His spluttered response made his father smile. “Don’t sweat it, son, I’ve been thinking about inheritance stuff as of late. Cousin Fran is sick and she's the one with the keys to your grandparent’s trusts. We have an estate ourselves but when she asked me to take ownership, I started learning about how they set everything up. Been wondering if we’ve been doing it wrong ever since.”
“You’re in control now?” Kirk asked with bright eyes. His father scowled and Kirk added, “I was in Evervine. The Monastery of Saint’s Reverence needed some repairs. The Abbot and I spoke. Apparently Grandad and Grandma were patrons.”
“They were more than patrons, son.” Kirk’s father pursed his lips, looking for the right words.
Kirk’s mother found them first. “Kirk, they gave quite a bit. Almost half the Evervine endowment fund came from them. They continued to give afterwards.”
It took Kirk a moment to register the shock on his face and clamp his mouth shut. “I didn’t know that.”
“Of course not. Your grandparents were very private about their finances. When Cousin Fran told me the family business was underwater for years, I was confused. Business was good. Then I started looking at their liabilities. They took out loans to continue donations from the business to Evervine in addition to their personal giving.”
Kirk glanced at his mother, whose keen eyes watched the children. When he gleaned she’d not interject again, Kirk looked back to his father. “So that’s why the giving stopped when they died?”
“Yes.” Kirk’s father was sorrowful as he continued, “Cousin Fran halted all unnecessary spend to balance the books, and there’s still a bit of debt to payoff but the business is doing fine. As good as it could ever be.” He paused, bit his lip, drank from his coffee mug, and shrugged. “I take it the Abbot needs funds?”
“No, he didn’t say that, just that he knew my grandparents and was fond of them.”
“And their donations, no doubt.”
Kirk let the snide comment slide. “Dad, I’m going to dedicate the rest of my life to the Monastery of Saint’s Reverence.”
His father choked, bent and coughed, and, with renewed intensity he stared at Kirk. In his peripheral vision, Kirk saw his mother staring at him, face full of confusion. What felt like a minute passed before his father dared speak. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“Son, you’ve never struck me as religious.”
“I’m not. But I want to be.”
“Why Kirk?” His mother’s hoarse question made him realize she was on the verge of tears.
He turned to his mother, and gently grabbed her hand. “Mom, I am not meant to be a family man. Nor am I happy with the night or the wage earner lives. I’ve seen cities and suburbs, country and coast, and I feel drawn to the quiet solitude of Evervine. They do good there, and I’ve always wanted to do good.”
“You can do good closer to home.”
“But this is no place for a monk. This is no place of tranquility. That’s what I’ve sought for so long, mom.”
“You’ve traveled for so long working you’ve made it what you want. A quiet place to stay? We have that here.”
“It’s not the same.” Kirk replied, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the words. “I asked the abbot, Abbot Stuart, to be my mentor and he agreed. In return, I’ll dedicate my life to the monastery and my hands to keeping it from falling to disrepair. It felt right then, and it feels right now. This is what I’ve been living for, long before I knew it.”
She stood and hugged Kirk, tears falling from her face. “We’ll come visit you.”
“You all can.” Kirk managed in reply. “I want you to come whenever you are compelled.”
“Son, I—” His mother relinquished him and Kirk faced his father. “I, uh, hope this is what you desire most in life. For what it’s worth, I support you.”
“Your Wayward Son.” Kirk said flatly.
“It is not bad to be wayward, so long as you return to the path.” Kirk hugged his father and for the first time he felt his father’s love. It was grand, strong, and heartfelt. “I’m proud of you, Kirk.”
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