THIRTY-ONE
Closures
“That’s my father,” Brooke repeated.
She picked up the paper again and scrutinized the images of both men: her father, tall, lean and so youthful but still wearing the same smile she knew all her life, with his arm resting on the shoulder of the other man, William Beezer.
“I remember this photograph. My father had one in his library next to his Northwestern degrees. I don’t know if it’s the exact same, but I’m sure it was taken at the same time,” Brooke said, tears still in her eyes.
Her friends were unsure what to say.
Then the tears came harder. “He must have known who I was. That’s why he looked at me the way he did when I first met him, but he didn’t say anything. If only he had told me. If only I had the chance to get to know him the way my father knew him. He could have told me wonderful stories about my dad, about the times they spent together in college.”
She was crying now.
“I miss him so much,” she said, touching her father’s face on the photograph. “It was so unfair to die that young…to be taken away from me.”
She saw her friends watching her and became embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” Brooke said.
Joshua leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re as stunned by this as you are,” Pam said.
“And now it’s too late,” Brooke said, shrugging her shoulders, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
The day before William Beezer’s funeral, Brother Matthew and Brother Michael brought rum sauces and peach and apple glazes to Montis Inn. Brother Matthew also presented Mark with a small decanter of heavily pulped peach brandy that needed to be aged for many years. Although good friends were once again united, the evening was somber and the quiet conversation ended early.
The following morning, upon leaving for the Presbyterian Church, Mark noticed that Hank was dressed appropriately: a conservative black suit, white shirt, and black tie. As were the many Lumby townspeople who came to pay their respects. When Mark, Pam and the brothers arrived, only a few seats in the back pews of the large church were unoccupied.
William’s memorial service was like most others in Lumby; several hundred people remembering a person and the deeds done while alive. A procession of friends and loved ones spoke kindly of William and then sat down to listen to the next.
As the voices from the hymn faded, Dennis walked nervously to the front of the church. Standing at the podium, he looked down at the paper on which he had written his father’s eulogy. For several days he had struggled to find benevolent words, and he deeply wished his mother, in her grief and loneliness, had seen the impossibility of her request. Dennis looked out over the pews and down again at his notes. He then folded the paper, creasing it with his thumbnail, and put it in his pocket.
He finally began to speak slowly, and in an effort to hear, a hush came over the church. “Over my father’s desk, thumb-tacked to the wall, is a small index card on which he wrote President Reagan’s epigraph: ‘I know in my heart that man is good. That what is right will always eventually triumph. And there is a purpose and worth to each and every life.’
“My father was haunted by these words and struggled to reach deep within himself to embrace their values, but lived with a constant disappointment that he couldn’t find refuge in the optimism they represent. Nonetheless, he had the strength and fortitude to read those words each morning, as his colleagues have told me. And I find that admirable.
“He was quite unsure if man is fundamentally good. If so, he believed we repeatedly show bad judgment as we struggle as best we can to get by. He also doubted if right and honesty do prevail, if our moral fiber is strong enough to defend against the self-gratifying takers of this world. A belief in God and an undying faith in a final judgment certainly address that quandary. But for those who religiously waver, the personal struggle to correct wrongs and ensure an equitable resolve of good over evil is never-ending. Either way, he was, as we all are, constantly angered when good does not triumph.
“As for the last sentence, my father firmly believed that there is worth to each life if it is lived honestly, courageously and meaningfully, but that worth can only be achieved through struggle and sacrifice, protected by a hardness that sees one through difficult times. That same hardness, though, was impenetrable to many of us. But Lumby gave William his worth: in the businesses that he started and grew, and in his involvement in the community. He deeply loved this town and believed in its people. Had he known his own destiny…
“I will forever regret assuming that there would be time to bridge the distance between us—that we would be given months and possibly years to heal and grow strong together, but minutes weren’t even shared for us to say goodbye. So, we are left with unsaid words of love and forgiveness, knowing how easily those words would now be spoken if only he was here to listen.”
Following the memorial service, a very small procession of four cars drove to Montis cemetery, where William Beezer was finally laid to rest next to his brother and father. Afterward, Dennis and Gabrielle followed the brothers as they walked back to the inn, but instead of going into the main house, they and Brothers Matthew and Michael crossed the road and joined Joshua and Brooke and Pam and Mark, who were standing on a knoll in the orchard. Once together, the eight friends stood in silence and watched the sunset flood golden hues across the valley and onto the stones of Montis Inn.
Brother Matthew raised his head toward the sky, and everyone bowed their heads in anticipation of a prayer.
“Looks like the stars will be out over Lumby tonight,” he said, smiling.
The Lumby Lines
What’s News Around Town
BY SCOTT STEVENS Septembr 27
Another normal week in our sleepy town of Lumby.
Eyebrows are raised as to the origin of numerous twenty-dollar bills that have been found entangled and deeply embedded in a beaver dam on Goose Creek. From all appearances, a bank bag belonging to Chatham Bank was found by an enterprising beaver who, after chewing through the canvas sack, used the money to further strengthen its damish empire.
Chatham Bank has stated that it was missing neither a bank bag nor any currency. Sheriff Simon Dixon has estimated there to be at least fifty to eighty bills in the dam, and has secured the area. Dr. Campbell, DVM, has been contacted for advice on best methods for removing the cash without endangering the rodent.
Dennis Beezer has assumed the management of the Chatham Press, The Lumby Lines, and other businesses owned by the late William Beezer: “I would like to thank the people of Lumby for allowing my father and his family into your lives, personally and professionally. Thank you for the years of friendship you gave him while he was alive. And finally, thank you all for the support you have offered our family since my father’s death. I look forward to continuing in my father’s footsteps, and delivering to you, each week, the news of Lumby.”
As reported by the Associated Press, last evening the monks of Saint Cross Abbey received the highest honors at the International Culinary Arts Competition in Geneva, Switzerland. The competition, which is sponsored by the International Culinary Federation (ICF), is a weeklong event that brings together the finest culinarians and chefs from around the world, with as many as one thousand competitors and eight thousand attendees. The award, accepted by Brother Matthew, is bestowed upon the person or persons in the competition who best represent the standards, quality, creativity and excellence that the ICF embraces.
Finally, the new Chatham County bus that was commissioned yesterday for servicing Lumby and Rocky Mount came to an abrupt stop on its maiden voyage this morning, getting stuck halfway through Benders Tunnel just north of Gypsum Creek. Evidently, the original specifications of the one-lane tunnel that were given to the bus manufacturer were correct, but the pressure of the mountain over the last thirty-four years has compressed the sides of the tunnel inward by no less than fourteen inches. The Army Corps of Engineers and the Department of Transportation are developing a plan for extricating the bus from the tunnel. Until then, drivers need to use SR 621.
Godspeed to all.
