The Good Fountain
By: Jill Kelley
Tags: Fiction, Father And Son, Forgiveness, Christ Centered, Short Story

Julian Nori lives right next door to one of those run-down, weedy, vacant lots some good folks transformed into a community garden. There is a winding pathway there that takes you past every feature the place has to offer: flower beds; a statue of St. Francis of Assisi and his animal friends; birdhouses perched atop tall posts; a picnic table; a wooden seat that wraps around the trunk of a magnolia tree with a planter between the back of the bench and the tree trunk where marigolds grow; and in the farthest corner of the garden there is a water fountain that only works when it rains.

The fountain is bone dry.

Sitting at the picnic table with her sketchbook open, Julian takes in her surroundings — observing, listening, breathing — she waits for her muse. Gratitude billows through her, swelling her heart with love. She notes the people near her and considers them for her sketch.

Her neighbor, Jenny, is sitting under the magnolia tree, looking down at her left hand in the most somber way.

Over near the fountain, she sees a boy teasing Jenny’s son, Charlie. He picks up a stone and throws it at a bird. It misses, and the bird flies away.

Julian pulls out a pencil from the spiral binding of her sketchbook and looks at the tip. It’s sharp. Just as she is about to begin sketching, her attention is disturbed.

A man slams a van door, then stomps over to the garden. Tension and anger squeeze him. The whites of his eyes and his face are red. Sweat drips from his forehead and forms blotches on his shirt. His eyebrows are pressed down and together.

In empathy, Julian tenses up too. The man makes a beeline straight toward her.

He hollers, “Gene! Where are you? Gene! Time to go!”

The man glares at Julian, then making a vain attempt to appear calm, he asks, “Have you seen my boy around here?”

His boy might be the kid over by the fountain with Charlie, but she didn’t tell him that. “No, sir, I have not,” she replies. “Do you live around here?”

The tone of her voice and the kindness in her eyes have a calming effect. The man runs his fingers through his hair, his tension and anger dispersing. His demeanor slopes down in defeat. Taking a deep breath, he says, “We just moved in down the street. My name is Henry Cox. What’s yours?”

“Julian Nori. It’s nice to meet you.” They shake hands.

“Likewise,” he says. “All right, then. Please, if you see him around here, send him home.”

Julian nods as he returns to his van, but when he gets there, instead of getting in, he turns and walks away.

Julian glances toward the fountain. The kids are gone. She looks back toward the van and watches Jenny and Charlie as they cross the street. The van, she notices, has Happy Plunger Plumbing written across the side with a picture of a smiling cartoon plunger.

Gene is nowhere.

Why is everyone so full of negative energy today? Julian wonders. It hasn’t rained in weeks, which is too bad, because when it rains, the fountain works, and when it does, good things happen.

Julian puts the sketchbook and pencil back into her bag and pulls out a box of chalk. Then she begins creating masterful works of sidewalk-chalk art depicting life-like portraits, landscapes, animals, and whimsical creatures in the style of David Zinn. Next, she scrolls well-placed bible verses; under a lamppost, Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Psalm 119:105); near the fountain, he who believes in me shall never thirst (John 6: 35); next to the statue of St. Francis, Blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21).

She looks at her artwork covering the entire winding pathway and thinks, maybe now it will rain.