Grandpa Larry (as he called himself in his head) pushed open the entrance of Pa's Corner Store and hobbled his way down the interior steps. The fake gray mustache twitched beneath his round nose, and he pretended to squint through his square glasses. He could see a few veggies milling through the aisles, but his attention was drawn to the left wall, where stretched a counter with tomato-themed bar stools, where Pa sold milkshakes and sandwiches. Specifically, Larry's eye shot to strands of neatly combed red hair, prettily topped with a yellow headband.
His friend, Petunia Rhubarb, seemed to be finishing up her lunch break, judging by her mostly empty plate. She sipped her favorite pink lemonade through a crazy straw while she flipped through a fashion magazine.
Larry grinned to himself, wanting to make her laugh. He hobbled toward her, making his cane tap extra loud on the tiles to get her attention. After Larry made three clicking steps, Petunia raised her head and turned. Her blue eyes widened at his gray mustache and bent-over frame, before she broke into a friendly giggle, which made Larry's heart soar with delight.
"And what did you do today, Larry?" she asked.
"Pretend to be Ichabeezer's granddaughter's grandpa," he chirped, still using his grandpa voice, "but Maisy preferred her real grandpa, so my services weren't needed any more."
"And I'm sure that makes a lot more sense in context," she chuckled kindly.
A door opened, and Pa Grape came out from the back room, carrying a box behind the food counter. He did a double take behind his glasses when he saw Larry. He shook his head, exhaling.
"This Netflix show just keeps getting weirder and weirder."
"Technically, this is a fanfic, whippersnapper," Larry clarified as he slid onto his chair, laying his cane on the stool beside him.
Pa rolled his eyes, but instead of commenting, he opened the box and began to stack its contents on the shelves underneath the counter.
"Well, I think you make a nice-looking grandpa," Petunia said. "You have a kind look and a big heart, which makes kids feel safe and loved."
"Thanks! I had a lotta fun pretending to be a grandpa," he told her. "Wanna pretend to be a grandma? We can tell all these sprouts what life was like when everyone knew cursive."
"I'll pass this time," she replied smilingly, picking up her glass. "I'll have to get back to the store after I finish my lemonade."
"Okay, but you're missing out," he jokingly warned. "It's been great so far! I can't wait to have some grandkids!"
Petunia had started to take a sip, but the pink receded down the loops of her straw. She lowered the mouthpiece, scanning his mustached face.
"Do you mean having children in your life who you treat as grandkids? Or literal?"
"Literal, eventually," Larry said wistfully. "How do people usually get them? Pa?"
Pa squinted at him. "Do you really need me to tell you that one?"
Larry blinked, quirking his eyebrows. "It was just a simple question."
"You're smarter than you give yourself credit, son," Pa replied dryly. "You can figure it out if you think it through."
Larry pouted, but at the same time he was glad Pa had confidence in his mental abilities.
"Maybe I could give it a try, right, Petunia?" He turned to his rhubarb companion, hoping she also thought highly of his super-duper brain power.
"I think the answer is just in front of you," she answered pleasantly, her eyes shining with mirth.
Larry screwed up his face, thinking hard. "Let's see. Grandkids, grandkids…"
Exactly how did his grandpa get grandkids? Well, Larry figured to himself, Grandpa Cucumber didn't become a grandpa until Larry's older brother, Bob the Cucumber, was born. And Larry's dad was Grandpa Cucumber's son, so…
"Ah!" Larry nodded. "To get grandkids, I must have kids first!"
"Masterfully done, Holmes," Petunia smiled.
"I knew you'd get there," Pa said with a lopsided smile. "Now, are you gonna order anything?"
Larry barely heard him. His mind, finding this new groove, continued to work backwards to the next logical step.
"And I guess to have kids," Larry mused, "I can either adopt… or I gotta get a wife first."
"That's usually a good idea," Pa cracked, "if you're a God-fearing man."
"I am," Larry affirmed. He clicked his tongue, his mind digesting this fact. "So… where does a guy usually get one of those?"
In a flash, he remembered Pa had married Ma Grape, back in the day. Larry spun in his chair toward the green grape, hoping his longtime friend would impart his secrets, but Pa backed away, shaking his head.
"I'm respectfully removing myself from this conversation."
"Aw, c'mon!" Larry complained. "You've actually had a wife!"
"I gotta restock some foot cream," Pa threw back. "If you really want to find a wife, ask Petunia for help."
Petunia sputtered, pushing back her pink lemonade. Larry reached over the counter to grab her a paper napkin, which she accepted. As she dabbed her mouth, a realization occurred to Larry. His gaze swept over her, suddenly seeing her in a new light.
"Hey, Pa's right!" he exclaimed, hopping on his stool. "If I want a wife, I should ask you about that."
Her head snapped up. Her blue eyes darted over his face, shocked.
"Larry," she said slowly, "remember that talk you had with Bob about saying things that can be taken multiple ways?"
"Sure," Larry nodded. "If I say something that isn't clear at first, I should provide more information for the listener."
He smiled at her, waiting. Petunia hesitated, then cleared her throat.
"Larry, I need more information."
"Oh, well," Larry beamed good-naturedly, "I just figured that if anybody could give me advice about getting married (and all those other steps it takes to become a grandpa), it should be someone who is smart and who always helps me find answers from the Bible and who actually knows how a girl thinks. That's you to a T, Petunia — even though your initials are actually P.R."
Petunia's eyes slowly dimmed, looking almost disappointed, until she cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders.
"Girls aren't a monolith," she countered. "I can only give advice based on my own experiences."
"Well, it's leagues ahead of me, who barely knows anything about girls," Larry pointed out.
She looked at her glass, swirling her straw through the glittering lemonade.
"Larry, let me answer your question with a question," she said, growing serious. "What do you think marriage is?"
Larry raised an eyebrow.
"Marriage is just… marriage, isn't it? Like my mom and dad. Dad proposed; Mom said yes; they had a nice wedding with cake, bought a house, had little cucumbers, and lived happily ever after."
"That's all part of marriage, sure," Petunia returned, "but what is marriage, when you strip everything else away?"
Larry frowned. "This isn't one of those trick questions where whatever I say is going to be wrong, is it?"
She shook her head, forming a lopsided grin. "Let me rephrase it. What does the Bible say about marriage?"
"Oh, that's easy," Larry brightened.
He thought back over his family's Bible studies growing up. Sometimes, when they reached a verse involving marriage, his parents or grandparents would talk about how that portion of Scripture helped them be better spouses.
"Let's see," he reflected. "Adam was lonely in the garden, so God made Eve to be his helpmeet. Isaac needed a wife, so God helped Abraham's servant find Rebekah. Jacob had to work seven years for Rachel, twice, but seven years felt like seven days because Jacob loved her so much. Ruth's husband died, and because she had no children, Boaz could step in as the kinsman redeemer to marry her. David had a lot of wives, and Solomon had seven hundred wives and—"
"How about in the New Testament?" Petunia interjected.
"I know Jesus did His first miracle at a wedding," Larry chirped.
"What about the Epistles?"
Larry thought hard but shook his head. "Drawing a blank."
Petunia tapped her straw against the rim of the glass, shaking off a few drops. She normally was not the type to play with her food, but she seemed suddenly more interested in the lemonade than in looking at Larry.
"Well… to put it one way… a marriage is a covenant."
"Marriage is an oven?" Larry asked blankly. "Is that why so many married ladies bake cookies?"
"No, silly," she said quietly. "A covenant is a very special relationship, usually between two people."
"Like David and Jonathan?" Larry remembered.
"That's one type of covenant," Petunia nodded. "A lot of ancient cultures across different continents used covenants to form alliances. If a person was in covenant with a mighty chief, everyone would know if they messed with that person, the chief would come to their aid or avenge them. 'You mess with my friend, you mess with me.'"
"Cool!"
"And another covenant is the one God made a covenant with Abraham and his descendants," Petunia went on. "So when anybody messed with Israel, it was the same as messing with God Almighty."
"And that's why God calls Jews His chosen people?"
"You're getting it," she said, but she still didn't look at him. "And there's what the Bible calls the new covenant, which Jesus brings us into when we accept Him."
"And Jesus said that whatever anybody does to us, good or bad, is the same as doing it to Him!" Larry beamed, feeling as though he were winning a trivia game.
She nodded. "And, Larry… married people make a covenant."
Larry hopped in his seat. "That's neat! So, my parents are in one of those things?"
"According to the Bible."
"And Junior's parents?"
"Yes, Larry."
"And Laura's?"
"Yes, Larry."
"And Bob's?"
"For any married couple you list, the answer will be yes." She finally raised her blue eyes. "So, if you want to be married, you shouldn't be doing it just to have kids, and grandkids, but because you're ready to enter a covenant with the woman God has picked for you."
Larry's exuberance fizzled. He wasn't sure, but he thought — he thought — Petunia's words held a lot of weight. He flopped against the counter, mulling it over.
"Marriage isn't something you just rush into, huh?" he contemplated. "Even if you want to start a family."
"Right."
"So, it's not enough that I like a girl then?" he asked, looking at her. "Or, well, love her?"
"Oh, you're supposed to love her," Petunia said. "In Ephesians 5, a marriage between a man and a woman is supposed to represent Jesus' love for the Church. Men are supposed to 'love their wives as their own bodies. He that loves his wife loves himself. For no man has ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourishes it and cherished it, even as the Lord the church.'"
Larry blinked several times. "What does that mean?"
She shifted her chair, swiveling to face him. "Jesus takes care of us, right?"
Larry nodded. "All the time."
"So husbands are supposed to take care of their wives," Petunia clarified. "They don't abuse them, mistreat them, neglect them, and so on. Ephesians 5:31 says, 'For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined to his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.'"
"Oh, I moved out of my parents' house years ago," Larry said brightly. "So that's one step in the right direction!"
"But are you ready to do the other part?" she returned. "To have a self-sacrificing love, and become one with your hypothetical wife?"
Larry thought about it. "…Probably not right now."
Petunia nodded, momentarily thinning her lips.
Larry twisted the revolving stool so that his back was to the counter, leaning to gaze up at the model train passing overhead. The engine and three vehicles almost looked like a family; he could picture them being portrayed by veggie actors on roller skates, like in that Andrew Lloyd Watermelon toy-train musical, Starfruit Express. The engine would be the daddy; the first corn-themed carriage, the mommy, and the second carriage and the caboose, their babies. Linked up like that, the family would stick together through all the twists and turns of the track. Maybe someday, Larry would be a proverbial engine with his carriage wife, hitched together through life (and singing some obscure Broadway show tunes).
But he had to be ready first, for both his happiness and his wife's.
"Thanks for listening, Petunia," he said, sending her a grateful look. "I figured you'd know an awful lot about what the Bible says about marriage."
She looked taken aback. "Why's that?"
"Because you know a lot of Bible verses," he answered. "Back in Sunday school, you always got the most gold stars for reciting our memory verses, remember?"
Petunia formed a half smile. "Well… I like to study marriage verses… in particular."
"Why?" he laughed.
She shrugged. "Occasionally, I think about getting married."
That was news to Larry. He sat up, gaping at her.
"To whom?" he blurted out.
"To the man God has planned for me," she replied, using the tip of her straw to make illegible patterns in her drink.
He wiggled in his chair. "Do you know who that is yet?"
"That's between me and God, Larry," she said airily.
Larry's stomach lurched. "So, you do know?"
"I should probably pick up some plant food while I'm here," she mused, pushing back her glass. Petunia swiveled, hopping out of her chair. "Excuse me, Larry."
She was aware of Larry's eyes following her as she picked out a few things to take back to her shop, but Petunia pretended not to notice.
He's not ready, she told herself. She figured as much, but to hear him say it out loud…
Petunia cleared her throat, shaking her head. Well then, she just had to trust God that Larry would be ready someday, if he was the one for her. Until then, she could focus on her Bridegroom in Heaven.
She took her items to the register, refusing to look at Larry, but in the corner of her eye, she could see the perplexed curve of his fake mustache which indicated he was frowning. She tried not to read anything into that.
Pa noticed her waiting and left the foot cream display to ring up her items. As he handed her a paper shopping bag, he smiled kindly.
"Larry's mind might not process information the way other people do," he observed, "but if you give him enough time, eventually the elevator goes all the way to the top."
Petunia lifted her head, forcing a smile. "Like figuring out when he should marry?"
"Like figuring out who he should marry," Pa replied, giving her a knowing look.
"Usually, those two go hand in hand," she replied calmly, but her cheeks flared. "I really should be getting back to my shop. See ya, Pa."
"Just give the man time," Pa chuckled in parting.
THE END