The Inheritance Paradox
Twenty-Two (Eugene’s Story)
EUGENE WAS FORTUNATE to have a good job for the summer after high school graduation. He went to work each morning at Kellogg’s with his father. The summer job in the warehouse was listed as a great opportunity to learn warehouse and logistics operations. In reality, he worked eight to twelve hours a day, receiving shipments and storing materials in the warehouse. He also moved supplies from the warehouse to the areas where they were needed. The materials and supplies included grains, sugar, malt, gelatin, and various minor ingredients that were still purchased by the pallet. It also included cardboard, paper, ink, and press supplies for the boxes, and wax paper for the bags. Once supplies were received, stored, and moved to their places in production, boxes of cereal packed in corrugated containers were loaded on pallets and moved to the warehouse for shipping.
Eugene ended each day exhausted, but he earned a better wage than most of the kids who found summer jobs in stores, gas stations, and farms.
But no matter how exhausted he was, he found time to write to Rachel, often penning poems for her.
The poet’s will is to express what he feels
In light of the language of genteels.
’Tis my desire so to say
To you the words each night I pray;
To say the phrase that will make you mine.
Gentle courage I wish to find.
I wish to tell the joy I see
And tell you of my ecstasy,
But when I think my courage is right
I look again upon this sight.
From a distance I see you there
But feel you breathing on my ear.
Everything in order I see,
But words fail me.
So, once again I catch my breath
And hope next time I’ll say the rest.
Letters to Rachel were long and passionate. He spent breaks writing to her and often fell asleep at night with his pen in hand.
It didn’t seem that Rachel was in any better shape. She wrote letters she posted to him almost every day. He kept them close in a shoebox in his room. They poured out their love for each other.
Then the summer was over and he had to move to Grand Rapids. His mother’s car was loaded with the boxes of clothing and supplies he would need for school, like his typewriter and a selection of books he and Rachel had both read and enjoyed talking about. Rachel’s letters, he left in the shoebox in his closet. He didn’t want to risk a college roommate finding and reading them. His father drove the seventy miles up to Grand Rapids and he moved into a dormitory.
His father had promised to pay tuition and Eugene had received a scholarship that would cover his room and board. Adjusting to college life was a process that took a lot of energy. It was the first time Eugene had ever shared a room.
“Hey! I’m Howard. Guess we’re roommates.”
“Glad to meet you, Howard. I’m Eugene. Take your pick of beds. I haven’t claimed any space yet.”
“Cool. I don’t really have a preference. I guess I’ll take the left if that’s okay,” Howard said.
“Perfect. I was just going over the schedule for orientation and whatever we’re supposed to do for registration. It says in our dorm package that dinner will be at six and there will be an invocation by the president. Then a chapel service afterward. I guess that gives us three hours to unpack and find our way to the cafeteria,” Eugene said.
“What’s your major?”
“Pre-theology. I chose Grace because I could just continue right here into seminary.”
“Me, too! I’m glad to have a roommate with a common interest. I was really afraid I’d end up with someone who just wasn’t serious about their calling.”
“If we have a similar class schedule, we can study together,” Eugene said.
They became friends that afternoon as they moved into their room, sharing their background and a little about their faith. They quickly discovered they didn’t need to evangelize each other. It was the first time Eugene had a male friend he could share matters of faith with who was on the same page he was.
At registration the next morning, they managed the same class schedule. They had typical freshman requirements of English, Science, and Social Studies. Added to that was World Religions, Theology of Paul, and New Testament Greek. And, of course, chapel every morning at ten. Eugene sat that evening to write a long letter to Rachel to tell her about his excitement at starting the road to their shared ministry. He still wrote of his love for her every day.
He was a capable student, but not a star. He labored for hours over New Testament Greek while doing the minimum necessary for Biology. Howard was similarly enthused and they spent as much time discussing how the evolutionary theory was anti-Biblical, as they did conjugating Greek verbs.
He received a beautiful Christmas card from Rachel that she had crafted herself.
My Dearest Eugene,
How I miss you and yearn for you each day! As I face this Christmas with my father’s family and my siblings, I think back on how happy we were two years ago when we were all together. My mother was still alive, and you shared the entire holiday with my family. Such a wonderful time!
My days are filled with taking care of my brother and sister. I try to show my worth in the family, but it is hard. My aunt is always critical of me. I don’t blame her, I guess. I’ve been sick a lot lately. I wish so desperately that I could be with you. I love you and miss you so much!
Unicorns Forever!
Rachel
Eugene tried to figure out how he could travel to St. Louis for the holiday to surprise her, but he didn’t really have a means of transportation or enough money to travel. His parents were going to Marquette to be with his brother Vincent for Christmas. He was in the Air Force and was doing well with his family. Howard invited Eugene to his home in Niles for the holiday and Eugene accepted.
The new semester at school was even more intense than the first semester, made harder by the deep snow that isolated the campus from the rest of the world. He still wrote letters to Rachel, but there was less poetry. He simply didn’t have enough energy to focus on such trivial pursuits.
After St. Valentine’s Day, he heard nothing from Rachel until a week before Easter. The letter came as a physical blow to him as he sank onto his dorm-room bed and wept.
My Darling Eugene,
This is a very hard letter to write as I must face the reality of my life. I had so hoped to bring you joyous news this spring. Now it seems all news is bad news. First, understand I still love you to the depth of my being and I so wanted to spend my life with you. But God’s plans for my life are different than my desires.
My brother and sister have gone to live with my aunt. My father gave away my hope for the future and has buried himself in alcohol. He is such a different man now. He never speaks to me.
While I write to you, facing my fears, I do so alone, mindful that I have not truly been happy in a bed since I shared one with you. Perhaps in God’s grace we shall one day do so again, but I must bend my will to His. You must continue on the path he has chosen for you. You must become the man of God I have always known you to be.
My prayers are with you this night with all my love.
Unicorns Forever!
Rachel
Howard found Eugene sobbing on his bed. He tried to comfort his friend, but seeing the letter, he could only shake his head. Eugene had spoken so freely about his girlfriend who was as committed to a life of service to God as he was.
Eugene tried to call her, but the only number he had was disconnected. He didn’t know her aunt’s last name. He wrote to Rachel, but this time the letter was returned unopened. She had cut him off without so much as an explanation. What was he to think of that?
He threw himself into his studies to the exclusion of everything else in life. He became a star student where he had once been only competent. He shared his fervor with Howard, who became as devoted to study as Eugene was. There was a difference in their theology, though. Eugene still worshiped God with all his heart, but it was no longer the God of Love Howard knew or that he had known with Rachel. It was a demanding God who would sacrifice his own son and would somehow sacrifice Eugene as well. Eugene was prepared to be sacrificed.
His prayers were fervent—even fevered. God was all he had. He would do whatever was required of him to serve.
Howard and Eugene were the star pupils of their class and graduated at the forefront in 1972. They had both taken more than the customary load of classes and had driven each other to excellence. They both moved directly into the seminary associated with the college. They’d taken several courses at the seminary level, so moving on was not nearly as much an issue as starting college had been. They became roommates in an apartment near the school.
His first year in seminary, he had a required class titled Unequally Yoked. It focused on the marital responsibilities of ministers, warning them that it was a danger to their souls to enter the ministry without a helpmate. It encouraged the young men who were unmarried to begin at once to find a spouse that would keep them on the straight and narrow. They frequently quoted I Corinthians 7:9, “It is better to marry than to burn,” even though a closer reading of the passage would question its application.
The seminary sponsored meet-and-greets for the ministerial students with young women from the college—women who were deemed of good character and sought to serve God in partnership with a Godly man.
In another day and age, the class would have been deemed sexist and patriarchal, an affront to women, and disgustingly chauvinistic. It was widely assumed that most women who came to the Bible college were there primarily to get an MRS. degree. It seemed like a natural and good way for Christian men and women to meet and get to know each other without the temptations that dating often brought.
Through their college life, Eugene had eschewed social events that weren’t directly related to the church, including dating. Howard had been less advanced in his social life than Eugene when they started college, but he’d expanded considerably as time went on.
Sitting at a table one evening with a game of Scrabble and three other people, Eugene was introduced to Mary Fletcher. She seemed like a nice girl—a sophomore in college. She played the piano and sang—two great characteristics to have in a minister’s wife. She was good looking, though she didn’t dress to emphasize her sexuality.
And she had a beautiful smile.
“Mary, could I interest you in dinner next Friday?” Eugene asked. He’d just acquired a 1964 Corvair so he could actually move about off campus more conveniently.
“Eugene, I… This is unexpected. Um… I would be happy to join you,” she said.
She knew Eugene and Howard shared an apartment and had been hoping Howard would ask her out. He’d often talked to her but had never made that move. She thought he liked her, but apparently not as much as Eugene did. She accepted the date.
The first of many dates was almost a disaster as they both struggled for something to say.
“It’s funny that in all the courses I’ve had in college and seminary, none have actually covered what to talk about on a date,” Eugene said. “I’m sorry to be such an oaf at conversation.”
“Oh, that’s okay. We have a Ministerial Service Club for women at the college. But it is mostly about how to control a situation, so it doesn’t become too intimate before we’re actually married,” Mary said. “And to help us understand what the role and responsibility of a minister’s wife would be.”
“Really? You’re much more prepared than I am. I thought… once I thought I’d found the one who would share my ministry.”
“What happened?”
“She unexpectedly broke things off with me my freshman year. I had been so certain, but I guess maybe we were just too young to make that kind of commitment. It’s been four years ago. I’m ready to explore possibilities,” Eugene said.
“Exploring possibilities,” Mary mused. “Yes, that is a good way to phrase it. We’ve been reminded frequently of II Corinthians 6:14. ‘Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers.’ I think, though that there can also be an unequal yoking among believers, as well. Our life goals and philosophy could be vastly different and still both be believers. But suppose one person’s calling was to work in an African mission and the other couldn’t stand the thought of being in primitive conditions without air conditioning!”
They laughed at that and it seemed the ice breaker that would enable weekly dates for the next year.
When Eugene told Howard that he was now dating Mary Fletcher, Howard seemed momentarily crestfallen. Then he brightened and congratulated Eugene.
“Mary is a fine young woman. I’ve met her at the social nights and often thought she would make a good companion for a minister,” Howard said.
“My friend, were you going to ask her out? I will back off at once!”
“No, Eugene. Imagine how terrible she would feel if she thought you were giving her over to someone else,” Howard said. “And I’m… I’m not ready to make that kind of commitment. I’ve been on a couple of dates, but never twice with the same woman. I’ve not found anyone whom I think matches my theology and personality. I’m not going to risk your relationship in order to experiment with yet another woman. It wouldn’t be right or fair to either you or Mary. Truly, I wish you the best and will always be your friend throughout.”
Before Eugene had graduated from seminary, he and Mary were married.
They were happy. Reasonably so. Eugene had a willing partner in both his ministry and his home. He was ordained and called to a small but growing independent church in Kalamazoo where he served as the associate to a senior minister. A year later, the senior retired and the church gladly called Eugene to take his place. Mary played the piano and sang in the choir. She was active in the children’s program as a Sunday School teacher.
They thought they would certainly have children one day in the near future, but year after year, Mary did not become pregnant. She made herself available to Eugene whenever he wanted her, but even that seemed to be less and less frequently as time wore on and the ministry became more demanding.
They’d been married a little over three years when Eugene was contacted to serve on the ten-year reunion committee for his high school class in Battle Creek. He declined the request but said he would definitely attend. The whole thing put him in a bad mood. He’d buried his feelings deep inside. His broken heart. His abandonment. His rejection. He’d told Mary about it on their first date, and it had never been mentioned again. Still, he yearned to see Rachel and find out what had gone wrong.
Perhaps Mary understood more than she let on. It was the first time she had declined an invitation to go anywhere with Eugene.
“Dear, these are your friends and former classmates. I’ve heard about these reunions. Spouses and girlfriends or boyfriends always end up in a corner talking to each other while the classmates relive their glory days. Please don’t think I love you less because I don’t really want to go with you to this. Of course, if you really want me to, I will.”
“I suppose you’re right. I certainly didn’t think about how uncomfortable you might be. Don’t worry. I won’t be too late. It’s only half an hour from here. I’d suggest you come along and spend the evening with Mom, but she moved to Florida so fast after Dad died that she left the house empty and Vincent came down to sell it for her,” Eugene said.
Inside, he was relieved at not needing to deal with two loves at the same time.
Late the night before the reunion, Eugene sat in his study with a small box open in front of him. It hadn’t been opened since he got married. In it were his high school yearbook, a trophy for winning a speech contest, some of Rachel’s letters he’d never sorted through, a few photographs of homecoming and one of him and Rachel dressed formally for the prom. Her class ring was in the box. They’d exchanged them the day they received them. He supposed she still had his, as well. And there was the unicorn pendant on its chain.
He slipped it over his head and tucked it into his shirt, then sealed the box.
He waited until the last minute before getting in the car to drive to the reunion. He was still undecided if it was the right thing to do. He was wearing his black suit and clerical collar. Other than when he was out coaching the church softball team, working in his yard, or counseling with the youth group, that was his standard mode of dress. His classes in seminary emphasized that it was not to make him a Roman priest, but rather to mark him at all times as a man of God. The clergy sticker on the bumper of his Corvair made it clear to everyone that he was expected to be an example to the community. Even with all this, he sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before he went in.
“Eugene! We’d recognize you anywhere!” David Whitcomb said when Eugene picked up his name badge and the class booklet at the registration table. Eugene hardly recognized his one-time friend. He’d easily put on fifty pounds.
He greeted several old classmates and found a place to sit. His eyes were constantly roaming the room for any sign of Rachel. He wasn’t sure how many of the people there were actually classmates and how many were their guests. Surely Rachel must be there, too. Dinner was served and the conversation at the table was filled with reminiscences. It should have been a good time.
“Remember when you and Rachel wore a unicorn horn for Halloween. You were so cute,” Lori Dawson laughed. Eugene’s heart jumped to his throat.
“Have any of you heard from her?” he blurted out. A shocked silence greeted him.
“Eugene, didn’t you know? It’s in the book,” Lori said.
He hadn’t opened the directory of alumni. He figured he’d just drop it in the box with the yearbooks. He flipped through the pages to the E-section.
Erickson, Rachel. Born October 10, 1949. Deceased April 18, 1969. Interred in Battle Creek Cemetery next to her mother. Rest in peace.
Eugene’s breath came in gasps. Tears splashed on the page of the directory. A wail he didn’t know was in him issued from his lips and classmates all around the room looked toward him.
“No! No!” he cried.
He’d been hurt and angry. Bitter about the way she broke up with him. But she hadn’t broken up. She’d been bidding him farewell. He wasted years in anger when he should have let these tears of grief flow. He’d been certain he would see her at the reunion. He was even sure that was why he and Mary had conceived no children. It would be easier to leave Mary without offspring.
Leave! He couldn’t believe he’d put so much hope in this reunion—in a reunion with Rachel, his unicorn. It was too much. He stumbled out of the hall and back to his car. Tears nearly blinded him as he drove to the cemetery and found her grave. He hadn’t thought twice about her mother’s grave when he buried his father eighteen months earlier. If he had, he’d have known.
He sat on the damp ground and wept next to her tombstone.
Later that night, he opened a notebook he hadn’t bothered with since Rachel said goodbye. He read through a few of the poems and then began another.
Mnemosyne, goddess, why now—when Lethe’s river held me?
Why wake the mem’ries of childhood beneath my furrowed brow?
Why stir the dreams I had hidden and sorrow I forgot?
Why the torrent of unbidden lust and passionate desire?
Night is filled with faces but names escape me still—
Treasures and favors given and lovers yet untried.
Sol is my guide in daytime and scoffs at my muddled mind,
Thalia laughs at my antics and Melpomene cries.
Aching, my heart is o’er burdened with unfulfilled visions of love.
Fingers emitting emotions to transfer my words to a crowd—
Ghosts that have no substance, anonymous critics of form—
Cursing my labor as nothing but fantasy living alone.
Just a week after the reunion, Eugene left for a week as a counselor at church camp. He loved working with the kids, but somehow his heart was less into it this year. His co-counselor was a young woman just out of high school, interning at the camp before she went to college in the fall.
The canoe camp for sixth graders was an adventure. They practiced on the lake for two days and then were transported to a gentle river on which they paddled for two days before being driven back to the lake. It was good because it kept him focused on safety and instruction. In the evening at the campfires, he played the guitar and sang songs, gradually moving from raucous camp songs to more spiritual music. After the last of the testimonies and commitments on Friday night, the kids went to their tents and bedded down, boys on one side of the fire and girls on the other. The counselor tents were positioned between.
Eugene continued to sit by the fire, watching it burn to embers as he strummed the guitar. A few tears fell from his eyes as he thought of how he and Rachel had imagined sharing this experience. Gloria came to sit beside him once all the kids were settled in their sleeping bags.
It was quiet and companionable with no worlds spoken. Eugene remembered those precious nights at Senior Institute walking beside Rachel. It was just like this night. He felt Gloria’s hand on his face, wiping his tears away. He turned his head and found her lips waiting for his. He put the guitar aside as he embraced the eighteen-year-old and they kissed passionately. He felt her breasts in his hands and her hand on his penis.
Peripherally aware that the children were in tents just a few feet away and might emerge at any time to see them, they stood and moved a few feet into the woods where they could hear any disturbance in the camp but couldn’t be seen. It did not take long for their jeans to be around their ankles.
It wasn’t a comfortable position, leaning against a tree as he entered her. Her bra was pushed above her breasts and he mauled them. As her passion rose, so did her voice and Eugene used his hand to muffle her as he drove into her over and over. He knew enough about female anatomy by this time of his life to tell when she reached an orgasm and easily let his own climax drench her insides.
The next day, the campers were picked up by their parents or church buses and Eugene walked with Gloria toward the campsite to make sure it was clean for the campers who would arrive the next day. He scooped up his sleeping bag from his pile of equipment, and they disappeared into the woods.
They spent a couple of hours in a more comfortable and relaxed sexual union.
“I didn’t think you’d do it,” she whispered as they lay, still connected. “You being a minister and all.”
“Are you sorry? Disappointed?” he asked.
“No! But I’d die if I thought this was just a one-time thing. How will we get together with me stuck here in camp for six more weeks and then off to college?”
Eugene knew with every fiber of his being this was wrong. Yet when he looked at her, he saw Rachel the way she’d been ten years before. Before she died.
“It would be difficult to see you with the children around,” he said. “Perhaps I could come by the camp on Saturday afternoons after the campers are all gone.”
“It will be terribly hard to wait, but I want you.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
