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1
Promptly at 5:50 PM, Rev. Stover heard a light tapping on their door. Upon opening it, he discovered a lovely lady dressed in a maid's outfit smiling at him. "I'm to escort you and your wife to the dining room," she said. "It's a little way away, and Mr. Hearst grows irate if his meal isn't served promptly at six. Are you ready?"
“Yes,” Rev. Stover replied. “Missy, let’s go. Dinner is ready.”
Missy came out of the bathroom drying her hands on a plush towel which she dropped on the bed. “And who is this young little thing?” she asked as they stepped into the hallway.
“I’m Lucinda, Madame,” the young woman replied. “I’m to make sure your stay is as enjoyable as possible.”
“I just bet you...” Missy started, but Rev. Stover reached over and pinched her arm to silence here.
Missy threw him an angry stare but refrained from saying anything else. They arrived at their destination as a large grandfather clock in the entryway to the dining room struck six times.
Like most of the rooms in Hearst Castle, the dining room was larger than life and could comfortably accommodate at least fifty guests, but on this night, the monolith of a table was only set for three.
Rev. Stover glanced at Missy and then to Lucinda. “Where are the other guests going to sit?”
“There are no other guests,” Lucinda replied as she pulled out a chair for him then did the same for Missy.
As the clock struck its final chime, Hearst walked through the door and took his seat at the head of the table. He nodded to Lucinda who waved to someone at the far end of the room, and the feast began.
As the food was brought in, Hearst turned to his two guests. “Welcome to my humble abode. I do hope your journey wasn’t too terrible.”
“Not at all,” Stover replied. “We found it quite enjoyable. I thank you for providing such a pleasant mode of travel. I’m a bit surprised to find we’re the only guests this evening.”
“Well, yes, my message to you may have been a bit misleading for which I apologize,” Hearst replied as the wine steward approached the table and started pouring the wine. “What I wanted to talk to you about, well, let’s just say it’s of a sensitive nature. I do hope you’ll forgive me. I’m someone who values his privacy, particularly when it comes to matters of politics.”
“Politics?” Rev. Stover asked as he picked up his wine glass and took a sip. “But I’m just a man of God. Matters of politics are not my forte.”
“Really?” Hearst replied. “Well, let’s see if that’s true. What are your views on Communism?”
“Why, Communism is the plague of the devil and maybe the world’s greatest threat in our time,” Stover replied without hesitation.
“And what do you think of our current President? This John F. Kennedy fella?”
Rev. Stover paused in cutting up the steak that had been placed before him. He stuck a piece in his mouth to give himself a little more time. This second question wasn't nearly as easy to answer. He didn't know what Hearst's political leanings were. He glanced over at his wife. She probably knew. Missy was always good about doing her research in advance, but Hearst hadn't asked her the question and the newspaper baron was now staring straight at him, not his wife. He took another moment to swallow the steak, then took a long sip of his wine. He picked up his napkin and dabbed his lips before replying. His pappy had taught him a lesson many years ago. "When you don't know what to say, the truth is always your best bet," he'd often said.
“Well, I, along with many other clergymen, are not at all comfortable about having a Papist in the White House.”
“Exactly!” Hearst shouted as he banged one hand sharply on the table, spilling his wine. The wine steward was immediately at his side with a towel to clean up the mess which Hearst ignored.
“When the chips are down, to whom will he answer? The American people or the Pope in Rome? And especially when it comes to those pinko Commies?" Hearst shouted, then took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He reached over and patted the reverend's hand. "You see, I'm a member of a small conclave of other patriotic citizens who have some real concerns about the direction our country is taking, especially with such a peace-loving dove in the White House. Did you hear his speech a few months ago? Something about challenging the Soviets to a peace race instead of an arms race? Ridiculous."
As the long pause lingered, Rev. Stover grew more nervous. He so wanted to glance over at his wife, to get even a small amount of reassurance from her, but Hearst continued to keep him locked in with a hard stare. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, Stover cleared his throat. “Like I said, I’m only a man of...”
“Yes, yes, I realize that,” Hearst interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “But even men of God need to step up and stand for what they know to be right. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes,” Stover agreed, “but what does any of this have to do with me?”
“Glad you asked. I’ve been watching you closely these past few weeks, and you are rapidly becoming a voice of reason within the Christian faith, with a little help from me, I might add.”
Stover nodded. “Yes, you’ve been most gracious in helping to spread the word of God.”
Hearst waved his words away again. "Of course such free publicity is rarely free in the long run if you get my meaning."
“No, I don’t believe I do,” Stover answered, a frown growing on his face.
Hearst glanced over to Missy. “Is he always this dense?”
Missy nodded. “Yes, but usually only about matters of politics.” Seeing her opening, she continued. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is we can do to level the scales as it were.”
Hearst laughed. “I can see I haven’t been giving you enough credit. So, as I was saying, my colleagues and I are concerned about the direction this country is heading, and we need someone who can carry the banner for democracy among the Christian community. I believe your husband...well, your husband along with your guidance and assistance...can be that voice of Godly reason.”
Missy went to pick up her glass of wine before noticing it was empty. Hearst waved to the wine steward to refill it. She took a moment to sip it before replying. "I'm sure we're at your service, Mr. Hearst. As my husband said, Communism is a plague from the devil, and we're all about fighting Satan wherever, and however, he raises his head."
“Very well,” Hearst replied. He raised his glass of wine. “Then a toast to our newest members. To God, democracy and the fall of evil.”
The three of them drank from their glasses, then Hearst suddenly tossed his against the closest wall. Missy followed a second later, and then with a shrug, Rev. Stover tossed his as well.
Hearst leaned over close to the two of them. "Matters are developing in the coming months that will serve, in effect, to cut the head off the particular devil corrupting our country. We'll need you ready to lead the many millions of dedicated Christians to use this opportunity to take back our country from those who would sell it out to the dark forces of Communism. Can you do that?"
As he asked the question, he glanced first to Missy, then to the reverend, and back to Missy again. “I believe it’s why we were placed on his green Earth,” Missy answered for both of them.
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2
Six inches of new snow fell on Harvard Square on February 22nd, the same day that John Glenn became the first American in space. Amberlin couldn't remember seeing so much snow any other time in her life, and she was well past ready for spring. Unfortunately, long time residents of New England assured her that they'd likely have at least six more weeks of cold weather.
“YOU MIGHT WANT TO TAKE in the Flower Show," one of her neighbors advised. "I go to it each year, and for several hours I can forget that winter is outside. It truly is a breath of fresh spring weather."
The idea sounded good to Amberlin, so she shared it with the rest of the troupe.
“I’m in,” Hannah said immediately.
“Me too,” Spooks replied. “Can we go today?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn't start until mid-March," Amberlin replied. "How about you Ben? Want to go smell the roses?"
“Dunno,” Ben replied. “I’ll see.”
Ben had been in one of his moods for the past several days. Amberlin almost asked him what was troubling him but then decided at the last minute to hold off. He just needs a little space to work things out, she thought.
Later that evening when everyone was ready to go out for dinner, Ben was nowhere to be found.
“Should we wait?” Amberlin asked.
“No way,” Spooks replied. “I’m hungry as a bear just waking up from its winter hibernation. He’ll know where to find us.”
Hannah nodded her agreement, so the three of them left, leaving Ben a note just in case he showed up.
He couldn’t figure out how his parents had managed to track him down once again. They’d done everything they could to keep a low profile, but they had been at Club 47 for several months—probably too long. Paula had handed him the letter. Ben had immediately recognized the handwriting as his mother’s and his gut twisted. What the hell did she want now?
The letter was short and not so sweet:
Call me when you get this letter. It’s urgent!
Mom
Despite the urgent part of the letter, Ben had waited two days before deciding to do what his mom asked. He found a pay phone several blocks away from the apartment in a dive of a bar that he knew no one that knew him would frequent. He pulled a fistful of coins from his pocket and arranged them on the shelf next to the phone. He pulled the door shut and felt and heard the whirl of a fan turn on. He called the long distance operator and gave her the number, then waited for her to tell him how much money to deposit, then stopped. Why was he spending his hard earned money on a call that he didn't even want to make? He decided to reverse the charges and told the operator as much.
He waited for the connection to be made and listened while the operator informed the other party that they had a collect call. “Will you accept the charges?”
“Yes, of course,” Missy Stover replied. “He’s my son.”
“Hello darling,” Missy said when the connection was completed. “It’s so good to hear from you. I was beginning to think my letter might not have gotten to you.”
“Yeah, it came today,” Ben lied. “What do you need? Is everything all right? Is father okay?”
“Yes, yes, we’re both fine,” Missy replied. “I’ve just been missing my baby, that’s all.”
Ben groaned. He didn’t believe that for a moment. “I’m fine. Just been busy, that’s all.”
“And how's your sister?" Missy asked. She couldn't help but get to the real purpose of the letter and the call.
“She’s not my sister,” Ben replied before he had a chance to think about it.
“Well, your half-sister then. How is she?”
That’s right. Neither of his parents knew the truth about who Amberlin’s father really was. Shouldn’t he tell them? Wouldn’t that relieve their minds? Isn’t that what any good son would do?
“Hello, Ben. Are you there? Did we lose the connection?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Ben replied, his brain swirling from the realization. “Amberlin is fine,” he finally continued. So much for the notion of being a good son. It was too late for that. “Listen, everything is fine here, and everything is apparently okay where you are, so what’s the purpose of this call?” He didn’t even try to disguise his irritation.
“Leave the boy alone for.” He could hear his father shout in the background.
“Your father sends his love,” Missy said.
Like hell he does. “I really have to go,” Ben replied. “I’ll check in more often in the future, but otherwise, just leave me alone, okay?” He hung up without waiting for a reply.
He sat in the phone booth for several minutes playing with the stack of coins in front of him. Why did he allow her to get to him so easily? Why had he even bothered to call her? Because if I hadn’t, she would probably have ended up on my doorstep, came the reply.
When he finally felt calm enough to walk home, he opened the door. As he did so, he noticed an old lady slipping out the door in front of him. Her movement seems strangely familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. He finally shrugged. Probably just a little residual effect from those New Year’s Eve drugs. Yep, I’m sticking with good ol’ pot in the future. He pulled up the collar of his coat as he prepared to walk home. As he opened the door, he noticed it had started snowing again. He really missed the south.