Part 3

In the afternoon she returned to the orchard to work just as her father had asked. It was still a sunny day when she went out and began picking apples, apples from the other trees in the orchard, all but the one that had filled her heart with dread yesterday, but had seemed to protect her today. While she worked she sang to herself a song, one of her favourites, “The birds of the air don’t have any cares, but they love the tree, Who is gentle with me.”

“Maria.”
“Yes Father” she replied, but when she looked up at the house nobody was there.
“Father!” she yelled at the top of her voice. She saw the door unlock and her father came running out.
“Yes, child!”
“What do you want?” enquired Maria.
“A bit of peace and quiet would be nice!” her father replied shortly. “Why have you called me out here? I was dozing child, you know how I like forty winks in the afternoon!”
“But I thought you called me!” Maria replied insistently.
Her father sighed a big sigh before saying, “Dear God!” and walked away.

‘How very odd,’ Maria thought, ‘I must be hearing voices!’
“Maria.”
‘Oh my God, not again!’ she thought, but this time she could hear the origin of the voice. It was coming from around the tree that sheltered her earlier that day. ‘Someone must be hiding around there,’ she thought.
She walked over towards the tree, not timidly as she had done earlier, but boldly and with conviction. “Hello!? Who is there?”
A voice began to sing;

“The birds of the air,
Don’t have any cares,
But I’m the tree it is true,
Who is gentle with you.”

“Hello?! Where are you?!” Maria raised her voice.

“Little child of the apple,
That brought you those tears,
I have watched you my dear,
And felt all your fears.”

“What the…?” She stood looking around the tree for signs of life.

“Now my Maria has come,
And her joy will be mine,
Little child of the apple,
Apple of my eye.”

Maria stood stunned, enchanted and enrapt by the gentle music she heard around her and locked her eyes onto the tree, for she knew now that there was nowhere else to go, no human life in sight, no other place from which this beautiful voice could emanate.

“You…you…you can talk?” she said to the tree hesitantly.
“At last! Yes, yes I can.”
“What do you mean ‘at last’?”
“I mean, dear Maria, that you have released me from my silence.”
“When did I do that?” Maria retorted.
“Why of course you did that yesterday, or have you forgotten? You took an apple from my branch.”
“Oh! Um…yes I did…” she became agitated.
“They are my apples, Maria, of course I would recognise if one of them was missing.”
“I’m really very sorry, Mr, um…Tree.”
“I know.”
“Did it hurt my taking the apple from you?” she enquired.
“No, it did not hurt.”
“Good,” she said firmly.
“But afterwards my heart was full of the deepest sorrow you could know.”
“Oh?” Maria looked upwards.
“For I knew the pain and anguish you felt after you had eaten it. To see you in pain and distress brought me great pain and so that is why I had to break the silence bestowed upon me since the time I was planted many, many, many years ago.”
Maria gazed at the tree. “So now you can speak…”
“To bring you comfort and peace,” the tree answered.

Maria stood awestruck. “But, Mr…um…Tree, legend has it that to take an apple from you brought that person great shame and misfortune.”
“And?” enquired the tree.
“Well I suppose it did.”
“It did indeed, but people who spread such rumours about me have not accounted for one thing.”
“Oh,” said Maria, “and what is that?”
The tree paused for seconds, and in those seconds it was as if time stood still, as if the wind stopped blowing, the bees went back to their nests and the birds bade a salutary silence.
“I LOVE YOU.”