Apples of Gold

by Lisa Samson

  Liza checked the contents of her basket one last time. Good. Just right. That morning’s polish added the final touch of perfection. “Nervous, Kate?”

  “Not really.” Kate set her bag on the steps and sat down. “I suppose your think you’ve got this job sewn up, don’t you, with your perfect little apple?”

  “I know no such thing. We probably are just two of many invited today. More girls may come striding up any minute now.” Liza could hardly believe she was voicing her biggest fear.

  “Trust you to think of that, Liza!”

  Liza wanted to say, “And there may be beautiful girls with perfect apples as well as looks.” But why should she bother? “What will be will be,” Father always said. “You try your best, hold your breath, and say a prayer.” Soon enough the day would be done and all events gone the way of a theater play. Hopefully not a tragedy.

  But as the sun inched toward its midday summit, no other young women joined them.

  Finally the courthouse clock chimed the noon hour, and the sisters stood to their feet. Liza tucked her basket safely to her side. Kate pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, rousing the lovely pink lying dormant beneath, then reluctantly picked up her bag. Liza attempted no such measures. Like it or not, she could pinch and bite all day and would only look swollen and blotchy, not fresh and breeze-kissed like Kate.

  At the final stroke of the clock, a glorious carriage rolled up to the steps. The white horses tossed their heads, ivory manes jumping about their corded necks. Their silver harness bells jingled and sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine. A footman, liveried in powder blue, jumped down and opened the door.

  Out stepped the governor, hale and hearty in his naval uniform. He nodded at the girls. “Good morning, ladies!”

  Liza bobbed a curtsy. Kate, did too.

  “May I present my son, Claude St. Juste.”

  First a polished boot emerged through the carriage doorway, then the jeweled hilt of a sword in its scabbard. As the young man unfolded himself from within the carriage, Liza saw a muscled thigh clothed in the dress blues of his uniform, a strong, gloved hand gripping the frame of the opening, then his solid upper body. Finally, his face appeared.

  A smile lit Liza’s face. Such a pleasant-looking young man. His brown hair, shot through with blond, waved back from his forehead, and he possessed the clearest, lightest eyes she had ever seen. Ocean waters, and all he’d experienced on his voyages, rested in them. Fine lines, etched by years in the sun, gathered around them and set off the kindness of his gaze.

  And his friendly smile. Oh yes! So warm, so generous. Certainly better-looking men inhabited the island. Claude’s features were rugged and strong, unlike the refined faces she’d seen in portraits at the palace. But an aura of confidence and peace painted his features into an intriguing and altogether eye-catching picture.

  The governor puffed out his chest with pride. “Girls, my son, Claude St. Juste. Claude, sisters Liza and Kate Carpenter.”

  Claude clasped Kate’s right hand and Liza’s left and bowed over them, grinning broadly. “The honor is mine.”

  Kate covered her mouth, stifling a sweet laugh.

  Liza froze, trying her best to stop staring. “M’lord,” was all she could muster.

  “Father has told me all about you. In fact, I remember you as little girls.” He was looking right at Liza. “You are the elder, are you not?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And you, Kate. I hear you have a laugh that rings through the streets and brings a smile to all who hear it.”

  Liza felt a boot of disappointment firmly kick her stomach. It was all over, apple or not. Perhaps she could persuade Claude St. Juste to hire her as well, in some lower position. Oh, but working under Kate’s authority! Doing all the work while Kate received all the credit. She could think of nothing worse.

  The governor stepped forward. “Shall we go in?”

  They followed him into the grand house.

  “Father, it’s every bit as magnificent as I’ve heard.”

  “I trust you will be quite happy here, Son.”

  “How could I not?” He looked into the faces of the girls. Kate squealed softly with delight, but Liza felt more ill with every step.

  Finally they stood inside the entry hall, papered in bright yellow and adorned with intricate molding and dazzling mirrors. An impressively carved staircase wound upward from both sides of the hall and led to rooms with purposes Liza could only imagine. Music room. Drawing room. Game room. What else? Much to clean. She knew that. But better cleaning in a mansion than laundering smelly clothes down by the docks. Or marrying some slovenly hooligan. Or, well, the possibilities formed an endless queue. None of them were something in which a girl could revel.

  The governor started up the stairs. “Come along. We’ll have tea and then admire those apples.”

  Kate visibly stiffened. But Liza felt an undeniable peace. The basket hung snugly on her arm, held in place against her waist by her elbow. She well knew her apple’s beauty, how she had cared for it, how sweet it would taste if Lord Claude cared so much as to take even the smallest bite. Unable to stop herself, she felt a smile creep onto her face. Truly, she felt sorry for Kate, but not so sorry as to extinguish her own peace of mind. Kate had chosen her path; Liza had as well, it wasn’t a pretty fact, but there it sat.

  The governor gestured toward a pale blue sofa. “Please be seated, ladies.” Claude satin a chair near Kate, the governor near Liza. This was not at all surprising to Liza.

  The tea arrived at the hands of a manservant, but Liza could not eat the fancy cakes or sandwiches, her stomach flip-flopped so. Kate managed to consume a small plate of food. She delicately lifted each morsel to her pink mouth, all the while smiling sweetly and laughing demurely at the governor’s jokes. Liza’s hands shook like her granny’s, and she almost spilled her tea more than once. Would this interminable small talk never end? Really, now! All this to find a housekeeper?

  Claude set down his cup. “Father, may we proceed? I’m most anxious to move forward.”

  “Ah yes, Son. Let’s begin.

  The manservant unobtrusively cleared away their meal, and soon the girls sat on the edges of their seats.

  Claude smiled at them both. He reached into his pocket and pulled out…an apple! A beautiful, golden apple. Yellow and ripe. Symmetrical and shining.

  His expression welcomed, but his words were serious. “I’ve been waiting for this day for what seems like years. All during my many journeys I’ve longed to come to a home of my own and feel cared for and cherished. And I’ve longed to provide that same care for someone else.”

  The governor sniffed with pride, folding his hands across his stomach, “Indeed. I made a promise to your father years ago regarding the welfare of you girls.”

  This definitely sounded to Liza like more than just a search for housekeeper. And if so, she might just as well pack up and go home. For what young, healthy man would choose a plain girl like her over the stunning, bubbly Kate? What man wouldn’t want to see that beautiful face across the table every day or take her fine figure into his arms after a voyage? And imagine the children they’d have!

  Claude raised his eyebrows. “And now, ladies, let’s begin. Liza, you are quiet and serious, but a light of peace shines from your eyes. Kate, oh Kate, when you smile the very sunlight seems to catch its breath.”

  This is the end, then Liza wanted to cry.

  The young man raised a finger. “But surely the proof of who you are rests in how you’ve cared for the apples I sent to my father.” He cocked his head. “So, mail I then?”

  Kate pulled her bag onto her lap. “Oh sir. I believe this apple was cursed from the beginning. First, Ian got his fingerprints on it, and polish, as I might, they wouldn’t come off.” Kate continued her explanation, each word deflating her confidence. Liza felt sudden pity at the feebleness of her sister’s excuses as they piled one upon the other.

  Claude kept smiling. “Surely it c
an’t be as bad as that. Kate. Come now let’s see it.”

  As Kate drew open the bag, tears filled her eyes. Sobs shaking her shoulders, she pulled out the rotting apple, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Claude’s smile vanished. “Oh Kate,” he whispered.

  “But I can make up for it! I’ll serve you well. I promise I’ll do anything.” She held the apple out to him. “Please take this anyway. Please. And let me serve you.”

  “But, Kate, if you could not keep this fruit shining and new for only a week, how can I trust you with my heart?”

  “But the others… People were so nice, and their interest was so exciting. I was helpless.”

  “Kate,” asked Claude, “why did they have to see the apple in the first place?” He gently pushed her hand away, refusing to touch the apple. “A simple no is all you needed to say. I’m sorry, but you have failed the test. It is a shame, really. You’re such a lovely girl, but beauty counts for only so much, doesn’t it?”

  “You have no heart, sir!” Kate sobbed. She shoved the apple back into her bag and fled from the room.

  Tears filled Liza’s eyes.

  Claude knelt down before her. “I’m sorry, Liza. I know you love your sister.”

  She nodded.

  “But the truth of the matter is, the request was not difficult. You see, I have something to give. Something sweet and wonderful, and I only ask for the same in return. God help me, but I’ve never been willing to take what I’m not willing to give.”

  “I understand.”

  “So now, will you show me your apple? May I see if you’ve taken your responsibility as seriously as I’ve taken mine?”

  “Of course, m’lord.”

  Liza set her basket on her lap. As she opened the top, her grief for her sister began to fade, for Kate’s actions belonged to Kate alone. Liza had tried to warn her, had offered to help find a safe place. But Kate refused. Liza remembered the time she’d spent polishing the fruit, the way she hid it from all who might see, the way she cared for it like the most fragile of flowers from the most secret of glades. And she opened the lid with joy, knowing she’d done her best.

  “Here it is, m’lord. I’ve kept it for you.” She tilted the basket. “There were moments, when I saw all the attention given to Kate, that I wondered whether guarding the fruit was worth my trouble.”

  “And I experienced peculiar struggles as well, Liza.” Claude held forth his apple. “Equally lovely, yes?”

  She laughed, a bubble of joy escaping her throat. Here she sat facing the governor’s son, a strong man in his own right. And she’d prevailed, finding the strength within to protect the treasure that was of far more value than she’d even realized. She felt like laughing, throwing her arms wide, and spinning in a circle.

  “By Jove!” said the governor and thumped his son on the back. “I do believe that apple is more beautiful than when I gave it to her, Claude.”

  “I can believe that.” He looked up from the apple into Liza’s face, and his smile was inviting. “I knew it, Liza. I knew it would be you. You do know what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “I believe so, though it seems unbelievable.”

  Claude glanced at his father. “You see, Father, I told you she was brilliant,” And he took her hands in his.

  He remained on one knee and asked a question Liza thought she would never hear from a man so daring and noble and brave as this man before her, a question she sometimes thought she’d never hear at all.

  Of course, she said, “Yes!”

  Wouldn’t you?

  The governor puffed out his great chest as the sun shone in lemony ribbons on the crowd gathered before the palace balcony. He’d never been more proud of his son and wasn’t shy about letting anyone who approached him know it. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, smiles stretching their faces, nearly pinched themselves to make sure it wasn’t a dream. And Liza rivaled the sun itself, feeling beautiful for the first time in her life. Even Kate couldn’t outshine her.

  Liza’s wedding day. Joy filled her from marrow to skin. How worth the wait, the trials, the misunderstandings.

  Kate stood beside her sister, happy. Liza said life always gave second chances. And Kate would grab at her chance with both hands, the first step being pleased for her sister.

  Claude held Liza’s hand, kind eyes gentling her nervousness as he promised to love her always, acknowledging they would have storms to weather but that he would never leave her side. Liza agreed, promising the same. And the bishop pronounced them married.

  Later that afternoon, when they were alone, Liza placed her ruby apple into Claude’s hand. “Take a bite,” she whispered.

  He placed the golden apple into her waiting palms, “Only if you do the same.”

  Gazing into each other’s eyes, each tasted of the fruit, then closed their eyes at the powerful sweetness that filled their mouths.

  Most likely you’ve read Apples of Gold because your mom, grandmom, aunt, or someone very close thought it might be meaningful to you. I hope it was.

  A long time ago I stood in your shoes, unsure about issues of sexuality and intimacy and a little anxious about what my later teen years would throw at me. I grew to maturity in the seventies, a time of sexual freedom when pretty much the only rule was that there were no rules.

  Now, of course, we know more. We’re more aware of unwanted pregnancy, abortion, sexually transmitted diseases, and AIDS. But the messages thrown at you on television shows, commercials, and movies only show one side of the picture, failing to fess up to the consequences that will affect you for the rest of your life. It’s dishonest at worst, irresponsible at best.

  Apples of Gold is romanticized. It’s a fairy tale. Saving yourself doesn’t guarantee you’ll find that handsome prince, but it does guarantee you a heavy dose of self-respect. As my daughter has been growing up, we’ve had many discussions about self-respect and saving yourself—because you know you deserve more from your initiation into womanhood than sneaking off with someone behind your parents’ backs, and because you’re far smarter than to fall for the notion that sexual activity will provide any sort of lasting intimacy. You’re valuable in ways that might never come to light if you start on the path of physical intimacy before your circumstances warrant it. I’ve always believed those circumstances must include marriage.

  The bottom line, my friend, is if you’re not ready to have a baby, you’re not ready to have sex.

  As I contemplated my future, I thought a lot about the children I would have someday. I never wanted to have to tell them to wait, if I hadn’t chosen to myself. I felt like I’d be giving them permission to go out and do likewise if I couldn’t do it myself. And so the years went by, and finally I got married, and both my husband and I made it to the altar as virgins. It was definitely worth the wait for our own sakes. But I have to tell you, the fact that I can now look my children in the eye and counsel them to wait from the perspective not of someone who messed up but of someone who listened to the Spirit and made the right decision, is priceless. And all the credit goes to God who gave me, and will give you, the strength to see it through.

  Waiting is so very worth it. Save yourself for marriage not just because it’s right but because, in the end, you can look yourself in the mirror and strand without apology in testimony that you were smart enough to make a wise decision. Ask God to help you persevere.

  I’ll be praying for you too. I’ve set up a blog space just for you where you can leave your name: www.lisasamson.tupepad.com/apples.

  Love,

  Lisa

  Or Dear Aunt or Grandmom or whoever cares about the young lady who reads this book.

  Apples of Gold is a fairy tale. we know that staying pure doesn’t guarantee a prince of a guy or living; happily ever after. This little book is merely a tool to enable discussion between you and the teenage girl you care about. We know that the issue of purity is very complex. The pressures are great not only from peers but also from the overall tenor of
societal communication on this issue. People who desire to wait are sometimes seen as judgmental do-gooders who think themselves better than those who are on the path off sexual activity. They are also seen as wet rags, frankly, spoiling all the fun.

  Too much is at stake in the life of a teenager, however, to ignore or put our stamp of approval on behavior that leads to great heart-ache. God wants us to stay pure because God knows this is the path of least pain. We must certainly still love those who have failed to maintain their sexual purity and meet them with grace and encouragement to begin again. God’s mercies are new every morning.

  If you cannot give the gift of your own personal commitment to purity because your past decisions weren’t as wise as they should have been, might I suggest that an apology is in order? When we sin against our bodies and ourselves, we sin against our children too. Purity seems to be a generational blessing, and the commitment to it is something God honors. Encourage your daughter or granddaughter or niece or dear friend to be the first in a line of blessing. Admit your guilt to her, tell her you’re sorry, and pledge your own commitment to her. Support her in every way possible to help her realize her wisdom potential and to become the woman God made her to be, with self-respect intact and grand purpose in front of her. The greatest gift a girl can give herself is her own purity and healthy self-worth.

  Nobody benefits from a self-righteous prude. Speak frankly and honestly with your daughter about issues of sexuality. Educate yourself on the temptations and pressures she faces. Life is probably not quite like it was when you were a girl. Love her enough to understand what she’s facing. Your shock won’t help keep her pure, but your love and commitment, and a whole Lot of time invested, will go far.

  Grace to you as you journey on this path together.

  Love,

  Lisa

  This story popped into my head almost fully developed, but I’m grateful for those who read or heard the story and encouraged me to move forward into an unknown territory: Terri B. on the van ride in Michigan, Will, Michael, Jennifer, and Chris. I’m especially grateful for my daughter Ty who loved it right away and didn’t mind saying so. Thanks to Don for the initial enthusiasm and to Dudley for carrying the baton on this one. Laura W., thanks for another one.