Liberty woke from several hours of sleep to find herself still on the couch, the lamp over the dining table still on. She got up, saw that her father was still asleep, and looked at the clock on the telephone. Three forty-five. She stretched and felt refreshed, so she decided to do it. She had never baked pastries at four in the morning before — and new experiences were right up her alley.
A quick shower helped to wake her up, and a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt seemed best for getting messy in a kitchen. She consumed a banana from the fruit bowl and headed out into the corridor, hoping she wouldn’t get lost on her way to the kitchen.
When she entered the Dining Hall, she found that a waitress was already getting ready to serve breakfast, and she could hear someone rattling pans in the kitchen beyond. Liberty fully expected to have to explain what she was doing there, but the waitress smiled when she approached.
“Good morning. I’m Sister Carolyn. You must be Liberty.”
“That’s
me!”
“Help yourself to whatever beverage you like, and there are sweet rolls and things under the pastry dome over there.”
“Thanks!” Liberty said and went behind the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee and select a tasty looking sweet roll. Then she slipped around the wall that separated the cafeteria and snack bar from the kitchen and looked at the scene before her.
She had never seen a kitchen so large before. She could easily imagine that a hundred cooks could work in it at the same time. Off to her right, a bald man was turning bacon on a grill while stirring something in a pot with his other hand. At a wooden work table near him a lady was chopping onions and bell peppers with a big knife. Straight ahead of her, near the back of the kitchen, she could see Brenda in an apron spreading flour on another wooden table while a huge mixing machine near her stirred a thick dough. Liberty walked that way.
“Hi!” Brenda said, seeing Liberty approach. “Did you sleep?”
“Like a log! What’cha making?”
“Cinnamon rolls. You have one minute before the dough’s ready.”
Liberty gobbled her sweet roll and gulped her coffee, then washed her hands at a nearby sink. By then Brenda was dumping the dough out onto the table.
“First you get to make bread. Oil your pans first. One kilogram per loaf on this scale, in a nice long blob, like this. Then they go in the proofing oven over here.”
“Oil, one kilo, nice blob, proofing oven. Got it!” Liberty repeated. “How many?”
“Over here...” the young baker said, leading Liberty to a plastic writing board that covered the entire back of a large pantry shelf. It had grease pencil notes all over it as well as more durable labels underneath the plastic. “Par means the normal amount to stock for the day, and as you can see, they’re constantly changing. Here’s today, and here’s homemade loaves, so our par is eighteen.”
“That’s
easy!”
Liberty got to work on seventeen more loaves of bread, as Brenda started making the cinnamon rolls.
“As soon as you get a dough about this thick rolled out, you butter it...
sprinkle on sugar... cinnamon... raisins... and chopped walnuts.”
“Uh huh,” Liberty said, weighing out another loaf.
“Then roll it up... slice... and arrange them nicely on an oiled sheet pan.”
“What about the icing?”
“That comes after baking,” Brenda said, slipping the pan into the raising
oven.
A few minutes later Liberty had the loaves done, so Brenda helped her get started on the next batch of cinnamon rolls while she mixed the frosting.
Liberty was at first a little unsure of herself as she rolled out the dough, but soon got comfortable with it.
“Easy on the butter. People don’t like to have to ring them out before eating them!”
Liberty chuckled nervously. “What are you making?”
“Dark chocolate. We’re making German chocolate cakes as soon as we get this routine stuff out of the way.”
“Yum! How does this look?”
“A few more raisins.”
“Do you do everything from scratch?”
“Just about. Now roll the whole thing up... great.”
Liberty’s pan of cinnamon rolls looked almost as good as Brenda’s, and the baker assured Liberty that the differences would disappear under the frosting.
They were soon pouring thin layers of rich chocolate cake batter into circular molds and sliding them into the oven for a few minutes. As soon as those were done, the cinnamon rolls were ready to bake, and then they turned their attention to two different fillings and three different frostings for the cakes.
“This is the one I like the best, the one full of chopped hazelnuts!” Liberty said.
“Me too! I’ll check the rolls while you get two spoons from the dish shelves over there. We have to make sure it’s just right!”
Liberty grinned and went to fetch the spoons. When she returned, her companion had the first pan of cinnamon rolls on the table.
“Now we sprinkle more raisins on top, then just dribble the icing on, like this... then a sprinkling of walnuts. All done!”
“They’re fabulous! Here’s the spoons.”
They both dipped into the nutty cake filling. “Mmmm!” they both said at once.
Liberty iced her pan of rolls while Brenda completed the materials for the cakes and slid the loaves of bread into the oven.
“What do we do with the rest of this dough?” Liberty asked.
“Make dinner rolls.” She demonstrated by rolling out a long rope of dough, pinching it off just the right length, and tying it in a knot. “Easy?”
“Yep!”
They both made dinner rolls for the next ten minutes, and then Brenda pulled the loaves of bread out of the oven. Five o’clock had passed and more people were working in the kitchen, one of whom was starting to put the cinnamon rolls onto individual plates. Liberty noticed that the man at the grill was already serving a few breakfasts, skillfully flipping eggs in small pans, humming a little tune as he worked.
By six o’clock they had finished all the rolls and loaves they needed, and started building the German chocolate cakes in earnest. Layer after layer, they each constructed a cake higher and higher, Brenda guiding Liberty to use a little more or a little less of one of the fillings. Then both were covered with the nutty icing. The final touches went on with a pastry bag, and Brenda did the cakes while Liberty practiced with another pastry bag on a cinnamon roll.
Liberty started laughing irresistibly. “That... is the funniest-looking cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen!”
They took a break, during which Liberty poured herself another cup of coffee. They shared her practice roll, and then spent their last hour making several grasshopper pies, two cheesecakes, and a big batch of biscuits. A few minutes after eight o’clock they started cleaning up, and by then more people were in the kitchen working on lunch and dinner items. Liberty noticed that the cooks and helpers ranged in age from a boy who looked about twelve to a lady with white hair who must have been at least eighty.
At 8:20 they took off their aprons, slapped each other’s hands over a job well done, and went out into the cafeteria to find a table.
“Well, well,” Liberty’s father said with a grin when he and Sister Nancy joined them at their table. “I think I was able to detect a slight rearrangement of the couch cushions and a few pieces of fruit missing from the bowl, but I can’t be absolutely sure anyone but me got any sleep last night!”
“I got almost four hours of sleep, Dad! By the way, you have to have a cinnamon roll for breakfast.”
“I do? I was sort of looking forward to some eggs.”
“You can have those too. But you have to have a cinnamon roll.”
By this time Brenda was snickering.
He looked from one girl to the other. “Okay. What am I missing here?”
“Dad! I’ve been up since four in the morning baking things!”
“Oh...
You made the cinnamon rolls. Well, in that case, I’ll have to try one, won’t I?” he said, smiling at Sister Nancy. Then he turned back toward his daughter and said in a concerned voice, “Liberty, do you know your hands are shaking?”
“I’m just a little nervous, I guess,” she said, and took another swallow of coffee.
He frowned in a gentle, fatherly way. “That coffee may not be the best thing for your nerves...”
Liberty looked at Brenda’s glass — orange juice. She looked at Sister Nancy’s cup — some kind of herb tea. And her father was drinking grapefruit juice. “This is about my forth cup. Maybe I should slow down.”
“Liberty, you’re turning white!” Brenda said.
“Oh, shit!” Liberty said, and dashed for the restroom near the Dining Hall entrance as she felt the contents of her stomach begin to rebel.
“I think she’s worried about whether I’ll let her stay or not,” Senator Buchanan said.
“And combined with too little sleep...” Sister Nancy speculated.
“And she’s had three pastries already this morning,” Brenda said.
“I see,” the senator acknowledged.
“Why don’t I go change her order to a fruit salad,” Brenda offered.
“Good idea,” he said. “And please take her coffee cup with you.”
When Liberty returned to the table, most of the color had returned to her cheeks, and a dish of mixed fruits was waiting at her place instead of the fried eggs, bacon, and hash browns she had ordered. She was glad, but didn’t say anything. She was feeling more than a little humiliated at that moment.
“This is delicious, Liberty!” her father said, working on his cinnamon roll.
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“But my compliments just the same. Here’s what we’ve decided is the best plan for today. You, Miss Buchanan, are going back to our room to get some sleep, soak in the hot tub, or otherwise relax.”
“Yes,
Daddy.”
“Brenda will bring you a lunch that will be easy on your stomach. I will be given a tour of Lyceum, discuss whatever details I’m not sure about, and give you my decision by three o’clock. Sister Nancy will be driving me... or us... to the airport at six. Think you can hold out that long?”
“Can Brenda stay in the room and talk to me?”
“After lunch.”
Liberty was silent, and just picked at her fruit. Her father noticed the tears forming in her eyes. He reached across the table and took her shaking hand in his. “A little case of nerves and too much coffee doesn’t count against you in my eyes. And I’m sure it doesn’t in Lyceum’s eyes either.”
Sister Nancy shook her head in confirmation.
Liberty wiped her eyes with her napkin. “Thanks, Dad. The hot tub and bed sounds pretty good. And if you let me stay, I’ll have plenty of time to take tours.”
“That’s right,” Sister Nancy said. “You’ll know the place inside and out by evaluation week.”
Senator Michael Buchanan made sure his daughter had relaxed in the hot tub and curled up in bed before he took his notebook and went to rejoin Sister Nancy. They met, as planned, in the Main Lobby, and wandered out into the theme gardens.
“What happened with Liberty does bring up a point about minors joining Lyceum that you need to be in agreement about,” the tall lady said. “We provide our minor members with all possible education, training, comfort, and support, and each has a mentor with whom they usually become closely bonded, but we are not able to provide the direct supervision that a parent can provide. If she insists on drinking or eating something her stomach can’t handle, we can suggest, we can coax, as a friend or a doctor would, but no one here would have the authority... or the desire... to step in as only a parent can.”
As they wound their way through the African Garden, the path slowly climbed from a humid, jungley lowland up toward a higher grassy savanna-like area. In one tree a cheetah peered at them from a branch, its tail gently
swishing from side to side below the branch. The senator hoped he was correct in assuming that the cheetah wasn’t real, but the path didn’t bring them close enough to make sure. It stayed in the tree, so he didn’t ask. He tried to focus his mind on Sister Nancy’s concern.
“Yes, part of me worries about that kind of thing. I really had to sit on her about a year ago. The ace up my sleeve is that she wants to be here very much. Given the presence of a large number of intelligent people who will be expecting grown up behavior from her, she just might choose to tow the line.”
They passed out of the African Garden and wandered through a playground where ten or twelve children were squealing with delight.
“How many other minors are members?” the senator asked.
“Thirty-five... or is it thirty-six, and seventeen of those are resident. Then there are another twenty or so children of members who aren’t members themselves. Most of these are visitors,” she said, gesturing at the playground.
Not far from the playground they wandered through a picnic area that was currently unoccupied except for a member refinishing one of the tables.
“Good morning, Brother Chad!”
“Hi Nancy!” the man replied.
“Another thing we really have no way to directly supervise would be Liberty’s... um... sexual activities... or lack of them...” Sister Nancy said tentatively.
The senator laughed. “Liberty took that department into her own hands several years ago. I’m sure anyone she found here would be far better than the partners she’s found in the past. She’s probably more comfortable in that area than her father!”
The senator and Sister Nancy smiled at each other with slight embarrassment as they crossed a paved road and continued down a path, toward the Demonstration Farm and Zoo, a sign declared.
“...at her age, the basic economic agreement is sixteen hours of assigned work per week. That’s in addition to routine chores like helping with meals, cleaning the residence halls, doing her own laundry, things like that.”
“Yes, I remember reading about all those requirements. For the last year she’s been caring for three horses, which has taken her about fifteen hours a week. Then she did about forty hours of gardening and clean-up for me the
last two weeks she was in Pennsylvania.”
“We’ll also give her a garden that will be hers to do with as she pleases, as long as it looks nice. And she’ll attend a gardening class for at least her first year. We also have lots of different animals, including horses, if she wants to continue in that vein.”
They arrived at the Petting Zoo and reached through a board fence to pet a curious llama.
“And foreign language?”
“Required. She’ll have about twenty to choose from, and we aim for fluency after one year, two at the most. Most members plan on a month or more of foreign residency after they get comfortable with the language.”
They wandered along a path that brought them to one of the residence halls.
“Now, what’s this about being able to take helicopter pilot training?”
“Yes, she told me she wanted to do that. It’s completely possible here —
ground school, navigation, piloting, even aircraft maintenance. I’ve seen the class, which consists of about six students, sweating over a jet engine rebuild, with help from the machine shop people of course. Think it’s something she could sink her teeth into?”
“She’s not too young?”
“She has to be sixteen for a private pilot’s license, seventeen for a commercial ticket. I was flying fixed wing at sixteen, but I never had a flare for rotors. She’d be sixteen by the time she was ready to solo. But she’d have to have your permission, of course.”
“Hmm. Something like that just might be what she needs...”
“This is the residence hall that has a free single room right next to Brenda’s. On this floor is the general social area, building steward’s office, laundry, play room, a little kitchen and pantry, store room, craft room, and a T.V. room.”
The senator poked his head into the rooms Sister Nancy was telling him about.
“Does Liberty have a religious preference?”
“She never touches the stuff.”
Sister Nancy chuckled as they began to climb the stairs. “Many people
here are atheists or agnostics. The evaluation team will make sure she’s ready to respect the religious beliefs and practices of others. You’ve read all about our religious ethics, I imagine.”
“Yes. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how she’ll do in that area.”
“As you can see, there’s a small lounge on each floor. This is the single we were thinking of putting her in if you want her to stay. It comes all furnished with a bed, a desk and chair, a dresser, just like you see it. Alternately she could stay in a single in the Lodge, which is similar, but more isolated...”
“I’m sure she’d be comfortable here. Is there any... drug use here?”
“No illegal drugs are allowed on the campus, and any member caught with them is history. Very few members even smoke cigarettes, and they have to do it outside. Alcohol is only shared at special holiday meals and religious ceremonies. No drunkenness is allowed. You know, the Sheriff or a deputy always stops by at about dinner time. I’ll introduce you and you can pick his brain on any subject you’d like.”
“Thank
you.”
They strolled out of the residence hall and back into the main building complex. The Main Lobby was more crowded than Senator Buchanan had yet seen it. They entered the corridor that led to the Research and Recreation Centers.
“So what if Liberty is accepted, then starts reverting to her old habits —
leaving chores undone, skipping classes, such like that?”
“The teachers, or stewards, or whomever was effected, would let her mentor know. Neither of those things are acceptable here. Together Liberty and her mentor would make a plan to correct the situation — including paying back whatever time she owed people. We’d help her in every way we could, as long as she was making a good-faith effort. As a last resort, she’d be asked to make alternate arrangements and plans for departure. We’re very flexible about illnesses and other problems, and we recognize that everyone gets burned out and needs vacations, or changes of routine, but there really is no place in the membership for immaturity — in persons of any age.”
The senator nodded and seemed pleased with the firmness of that policy.
They walked through the library, and he was visibly impressed with the large collection of books of all kinds, audio, video, and data disks, simple and
sophisticated games for all ages, experimentation and craft kits, scientific and musical instruments, art prints, and numerous other inspirational pastimes.
“I trust you have good controls over circulation of this excellent collection to the public...?”
“None of it circulates to the public. That’s why we call it a research library
— you have to come here to do your research. Members can check out a few items for use on campus, but they have to be returned in good condition.”
They wandered toward the Recreation Center.
“How is a person’s mentor selected?”
“By the member. The mentor must be at least eighteen, and of the same gender.”
“Liberty knows you better than anyone else since you and she have been corresponding. Would you be available?”
“Yes, if she asked. Most new members ask their contact persons to be their mentor.”
The senator looked at the Water Sports Pavilion, peeked into the huge gymnasium, and walked through the building full of every shape and size of indoor ball court, from basketball to ping-pong. “Dancing is the only physical sport that Liberty has taken to... I don’t see that anywhere here...”
“I’ll show you,” Sister Nancy said with a smile.
As they entered the Arena, a modern dance class of about thirty students was practicing. The senator and Sister Nancy stayed near the entrance doors.
“We have a lot of dance people here. There’s also a ballet class, with some of the same people as you see here. But I remember Liberty saying she wanted to do some kind of swimming...”
“Maybe. I don’t pretend to know everything about that girl!”
Sister Nancy took him outside, past the outdoor play fields that were currently being well used by soccer and baseball players, through a flower garden in full bloom, and into a side door of the Ecumenical Temple. They were immediately greeted by a smiling man passing out programs for the event within. Sister Nancy explained to the man that they only wanted to glance at the building. He gave them a program anyway, from which they learned that the event was a charismatic religious healing ceremony, open to the public. They stepped through the curtains.
The senator took in all the physical facilities, but seemed uninterested in the event that was being attended by more than a thousand people. After a few minutes of standing inconspicuously in the entry tunnel, they slipped back out. Sister Nancy returned the program, and the man smiled and wished them a nice day.
“Now... as I understand it... Liberty doesn’t have to take part in any religious ceremonies she doesn’t want to...”
“Correct. But as members, we can’t avoid coming into contact with many different religious practices. For example, there’s a member in the sound and lighting control room right now, and he or she might be a Jew or an atheist, even though the event is Christian. We’re here to serve, not to judge or participate in the events that we host. If we happen to want to participate in an event, it’s open to the public, and we can do so during our free time, we can of course.”
In the cafeteria, while slowly working on a Shrimp Louis salad and a bowl of French onion soup, Senator Buchanan worked his way through a thick notebook of curriculum guidelines and class descriptions.
“So...” he began, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “...she’d be in this History 1 class which does a region by region, century by century overview of all of history, and, if I might hazard a guess, Mathematics 2 and Literature 2.”
“Her test scores will be used for the final determination, but from what I know of her, I’d agree with you.”
“And the language classes meet three times a week...”
“Minimum. They often add an evening activity — in the language, of course.”
“Hmm. I wonder how she’ll like the Childcare class...”
“One of her first assignments will probably be in the children’s program.”
“What ages? You don’t want her teaching the boys too much!”
Sister Nancy chuckled. “We’d put her with the babies and toddlers or the young children.”
He finished his lunch while reading the remainder of the curriculum notebook, and then they walked through a small, hidden garden between buildings that contained a veritable paradise of ferns and delicate flowers.
“Is this also a member’s garden?”
“Yes, but I can’t remember whose. In here is the Healing Arts Clinic,” she said, pulling open a glass door.
As they wandered through the clinic, looking at the exhibits and examining the diplomas and licenses of the members who worked there, the senator was quiet and thoughtful. Finally, as they entered the waiting room, he said, “You have a broad collection of professional skills here.”
“Yes. We rarely have to take anyone to Portland.”
A worried look crossed his face. “What if... what if Liberty has picked up one of those... sexually transmitted diseases.”
“All new members have to pass a Group A virus test, as we all have to be eligible for United Nations diplomatic clearances. She’ll get that test during evaluation week.”
“So you’ll know the results before you make your decision.”
“Yes.”
Senator Buchanan shook hands with a few of the personnel of the clinic, asked a few general questions, and then they wandered back toward the Main Lobby.
“There are hundreds more places I could show you,” Sister Nancy said,
“but most of them would be of marginal interest to you... or Liberty. You tell me if there’s anything else you want to see, anyone else you’d like to talk to.”
The senator glanced at the array of items available in the Gift Shop. “It’s almost two o’clock. I guess it’s time to take a look at the paperwork.”
Sister Nancy smiled and led him to a quiet lounge near the Information Center in the Main Lobby. She disappeared into the back office, and a few minutes later returned with an armload of materials.
“This sheet is all that’s necessary for Liberty to stay for a two week visit.
The rest of this you could take with you and mail back to us before the evaluation week starts. This is a copy of the evaluation workbook that Liberty would be using. It might be interesting to you. And here’s a copy of the curriculum guide for youth her age.”
He read not only the one page that he would have to fill out in order for Liberty to stay, but the rest of the permission forms as well. Finally, with a deep breath, he filled out and signed the one page form and handed it to Sister Nancy. She witnessed it with her signature.
“Take good care of my daughter. I love her very much.”
“I can see that. Feel free to keep in touch as often as you want to.”
“Thank
you.”
They both rose and headed for the Lodge.
When Liberty’s father and Sister Nancy entered the lodge room called Vesuvius, Liberty and Brenda were playing cards, laughing, and sipping on tall glasses of fruit juice.
“Dad!” Liberty said running up to him and hugging him. “I slept until one o’clock. You can even ask Brenda!”
He smiled down at his daughter. “I will not ask Brenda any such thing. If I can’t trust you to accurately report your health status, then you have no business in a place like Lyceum!”
She grinned. “So... did you decide?”
“Yes I did. In a week and a half, on July 19th to be exact, I’m going to call and talk to Sister Nancy, and Brenda, and you, and find out if you’ve been doing your chores, and if you’ve been a pain in the butt to anyone. Then, and only then, I’m going to decide if you can stay for the evaluation week.”
“You mean I can stay while you go on to Tokyo?” she said, almost bouncing up and down.
“Yes, you can stay. But remember! You will sink or swim here on your own merit. Money can’t buy you a membership into Lyceum, and that is one factor that causes me to respect it greatly,” he said, looking at Sister Nancy.
“Thank you Daddy! Thank you so much!”
“Now, Sister Nancy has invited us all to a parting dinner in the dining room at 4:30. How about if you and I spend some father-daughter time until then, maybe pick out something in the gift shop to send to Mr. Neils. And there’s a place in the African Garden I want to show you.”
As they headed out of the room and down the hall, Sister Nancy and Brenda could hear Liberty’s voice. “And there’s a garden I want to show you!
It’s like stepping into the Hundred Acre Wood, you know, where Winnie the Pooh lives...”
When they met for dinner, Liberty showed Brenda the teakwood desk set
she had purchased for the caretaker at the Buchanan country house, and told her about the cheetah in the tree.
Brenda giggled. “Brother Felix used to work at Disneyland, and he loves audio-animatronics. He built the cheetah in secret, installed it in the middle of the night, and then just sat back and grinned while everyone discovered it.
You should see it at night — its eyes glow red!”
After they ordered their food — with Liberty back on a fairly normal diet —
Sister Nancy left for a few minutes, then returned with a large, uniformed County Sheriff. Senator Buchanan stood and Sister Nancy introduced them.
The girls also shook hands with him, and then the senator went off with the Sheriff for a few minutes. Liberty wasn’t uncomfortable meeting the Sheriff, but she knew many of her old friends would have been.
Liberty enjoyed the green salad, fettuccini carbonara, antipasto plate, and spumoni ice cream she had for dinner, but was beginning to feel sadness over the impending separation. They talked about light things for the rest of the meal, but Liberty was becoming more and more aware of how much she was going to miss her father.
At 5:40 they strolled back to the Lodge and Senator Buchanan assembled his luggage. They all walked together to a parking lot near the Residential Lobby, and Sister Nancy unplugged a small electric car while the senator loaded his suitcases into the trunk.
Father and daughter shared a last lingering, silent hug before he and Sister Nancy got into the car and headed out of the parking lot.
Liberty and Brenda stood there together watching the car disappear.
Large tears rolled down Liberty’s cheeks, but she made no attempt to dry them.
“I’ve watched him drive away many, many times. Camps, boarding schools, you name it. I wanted his attention so much that I hated him for driving away. I think that’s part of why I blew it at so many places. Now it’s time I started accepting the fact that he’s a senator... a damn good one... and it isn’t his fault my mom left. It’s time I quit blowing it. It’s time I stood on my own two feet, like he does.”
Brenda put her arm around the fifteen-year-old as they continued to gaze in the direction the little car had gone. After a few minutes of silence, she
said, “Shall we go move your stuff over to the single next to mine?”
Liberty looked at her companion. “Yeah.”