The Voice Of The Turtledove
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
Mark came home from work that day and didn't bother to kiss
his wife. Mechanically, he hung up his coat in the hall closet,
settled down on the sofa, propped up his feet and snapped on the
television. Janet stepped into the living room. "Welcome home,
dear," she said. "I was in the kitchen. Didn't hear you come in."
The six o'clock news was on. There had been a carjacking during
the night and two murders. "How was your day, dear?" Janet asked.
No answer. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.
"Then I'll go back in the kitchen."
"What's for supper?"
"I'm fixing a new chicken recipe."
"What am I? Your guinea pig?"
"I'm sure you'll like it." Janet wasn't really sure he'd like
it. She wasn't sure he'd like anything. They had been married
less than three years, and she knew something was wrong.
Something had happened at the office. Something he didn't want to
talk about. The supper was delightful. The new chicken recipe was
great! But they ate in silence. "At least he isn't complaining,"
she thought. Over coffee in the living room Mark opened up.
"Remember that proposal I was telling you about?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Steiger didn't like it. He practically threw it out the
office window. I worked for weeks on that project. The troglodyte
wouldn't even consider a revision of it. He just rejected it out
of hand."
"Darling," Janet said. "You mustn't give up. You have a lot of
good ideas. One of these days they'll listen to you."
"When horses fly."
Janet brightened up. "Come," she said, grabbing his hand.
"Let's get out of this stuffy old house and go for a walk in the
park." It was a cool evening. They slipped on their jackets and
walked the two blocks to the small park. Children were playing on
the swings and the jungle gym. In the center of the park was a
fountain sending its spray high into the air, and surrounding the
fountain was a bed of roses.
"I know what you're up to, Janet," Mark said. "You want me to
take time to smell the roses."
"Is that such a bad assignment?"
"Not if it comes from someone you love." He squeezed her hand
and kissed her. "I'm a dope. You know that, don't you?"
"You're no such thing, Mark."
"I'm so wrapped up in myself and my troubles, I don't even
notice the love and the beauty that surrounds me."
He stopped. "Listen. It's a bird call. Kind of a warble.
Didn't you hear it?" They listened. "There it is again."
"I heard it that time, and I know what it is." She turned to
him. "The song of the turtle dove," she said, "has been heard in
the land."
his wife. Mechanically, he hung up his coat in the hall closet,
settled down on the sofa, propped up his feet and snapped on the
television. Janet stepped into the living room. "Welcome home,
dear," she said. "I was in the kitchen. Didn't hear you come in."
The six o'clock news was on. There had been a carjacking during
the night and two murders. "How was your day, dear?" Janet asked.
No answer. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.
"Then I'll go back in the kitchen."
"What's for supper?"
"I'm fixing a new chicken recipe."
"What am I? Your guinea pig?"
"I'm sure you'll like it." Janet wasn't really sure he'd like
it. She wasn't sure he'd like anything. They had been married
less than three years, and she knew something was wrong.
Something had happened at the office. Something he didn't want to
talk about. The supper was delightful. The new chicken recipe was
great! But they ate in silence. "At least he isn't complaining,"
she thought. Over coffee in the living room Mark opened up.
"Remember that proposal I was telling you about?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Steiger didn't like it. He practically threw it out the
office window. I worked for weeks on that project. The troglodyte
wouldn't even consider a revision of it. He just rejected it out
of hand."
"Darling," Janet said. "You mustn't give up. You have a lot of
good ideas. One of these days they'll listen to you."
"When horses fly."
Janet brightened up. "Come," she said, grabbing his hand.
"Let's get out of this stuffy old house and go for a walk in the
park." It was a cool evening. They slipped on their jackets and
walked the two blocks to the small park. Children were playing on
the swings and the jungle gym. In the center of the park was a
fountain sending its spray high into the air, and surrounding the
fountain was a bed of roses.
"I know what you're up to, Janet," Mark said. "You want me to
take time to smell the roses."
"Is that such a bad assignment?"
"Not if it comes from someone you love." He squeezed her hand
and kissed her. "I'm a dope. You know that, don't you?"
"You're no such thing, Mark."
"I'm so wrapped up in myself and my troubles, I don't even
notice the love and the beauty that surrounds me."
He stopped. "Listen. It's a bird call. Kind of a warble.
Didn't you hear it?" They listened. "There it is again."
"I heard it that time, and I know what it is." She turned to
him. "The song of the turtle dove," she said, "has been heard in
the land."
