During the two days following her father’s departure for Tokyo, Liberty got to know every corner of Lyceum. She went on one short and one long group tour, and spent hours wandering and talking with Brenda. She continued to get up at four in the morning on those days that her companion was baking, but she went to bed earlier the night before and drank only herb tea until breakfast time.
Brenda was not able to spend every minute with Liberty. The young member had classes, homework, chores, and worked in the Healing Arts Clinic two days a week. Liberty asked Sister Nancy what chores she should do, and they agreed that helping with meal set-up and clean-up would be a good idea. She also developed her own routine of spending some time in the library, swimming in the pool almost daily, and rushing to the heliport to watch the big birds land or take off whenever she heard the sound of rotor blades.
On Liberty’s third day at Lyceum, the snack bar was making fresh corn dogs, and she and Brenda had just acquired a pair of them and were walking along the connecting corridor, planning to get some gardening tools and work on Brenda’s garden. Coming in the opposite direction along the corridor was a very old but well dressed lady walking slowly and unsteadily with a cane.
Holding her free hand was an eight or nine year old girl with long blond hair.
Two men walked slowly behind.
“...so, Frank, increase Gloria’s inheritance to five million, and let’s do something for the Salvation Army in Raleigh. They could make use of two million, couldn’t they?”
“I’m sure they would be very appreciative, Mrs. Hutchinson,” one of the men behind her said, making notes on a legal-size tablet.
“For the umpteenth time, Frank, my name is Phoebe!”
“Yes, Mrs... Yes, Phoebe.”
“Now, how much does that leave us?” the elderly lady asked.
“Fifteen million, and change.”
“What to do with it...”
At that moment the group was passing Liberty and Brenda, who out of respect were pretending not to overhear the discussion.
“You there!” the lady said, suddenly picking up her cane and pointing it directly at Liberty. “You look like a smart young lady! What would you do if you had fifteen million dollars?”
“Um... me?” Liberty said, very unsure that she should be the one to answer such a question.
“Of course, you!”
“Um... I guess I’d... go on a world tour or something...”
“Out of the mouths of babes, Frank. An endowment fund for educational world travel for young people. How much would that make available?”
“Fifteen million wisely invested would yield one or two million per year, depending on economic conditions...”
“That sounds like the thing to do. Please get it all written up by dinner time, Frank. Thank you, young lady,” she said to Liberty, who was still nearly in a state of shock. “You’ve been very helpful.” Then she spoke over her shoulder to the other man. “Now on to another matter of importance. Tom, as my doctor, I want your opinion as to whether these ancient innards of mine could handle one of those delicious-looking corn dogs, with mustard.”
“I believe so, Phoebe, as long as you don’t make a habit of it...”
The group moved on into the Dining Hall.
“What just happened?” Liberty asked.
Brenda chuckled. “That was Mrs. Hutchinson. She was here about a year ago, stayed for a couple of weeks, and was constantly giving people gifts,
gathering the children around her in the evening and telling stories, buying fancy dinners for people who couldn’t afford them, you name it. When she finally got ready to go home, she asked for her bill, and expected to owe us a fortune. Everyone knew how generous she had been, so we didn’t charge her a thing, and we had a stack of gifts for her to express our appreciation. She was so touched that she wrote us a check for a million dollars.”
“Wow!”
They continued walking toward Brenda’s garden as they talked.
“Then, as I understand it, she had a heart attack about a week ago, and isn’t expected to last much longer. She wanted to die here, so she called, and then flew out from her estate in Raleigh, North Carolina, the same day. That was just before you got here. She brought her own doctor and her own lawyer.”
“So that stuff about fifteen million dollars is for real?”
“I guess so. I know she’s rich and is working on her will.”
“Who’s the little girl? Her heir apparent?”
Brenda giggled. “That’s Sister Sarah, our youngest member. They became close during Mrs. Hutchinson’s first visit.”
“I still can’t believe she asked me what to do with fifteen million dollars!”
“Things like that happen at Lyceum. You’ll just have to get used to them if you’re going to be a member!”
Liberty shrugged as Brenda guided her to a little barn full of gardening tools and supplies tucked away on a path marked Staff Only.
Liberty’s first-hand understanding of Lyceum deepened over the next few days. She spent some time every day re-reading parts of the Lyceum Prospective Member’s Handbook and the other materials she had been sent.
She also spent time talking to other members and getting a feel for the kinds of people who had already joined. Generally she liked what she saw.
She especially liked getting to know the other young people at Lyceum.
Most of them were her age and above. The few younger than her were somehow different — they were quiet, introverted, and they didn’t play like normal children did. They seemed to spend every waking minute in either the Recreation Center or the Research Complex doing some sport they were
dedicated to, or some kind of science far beyond their years. She asked Brenda about them one day.
“I know what you mean. I guess being a Lyceum member takes so much...
what’s the best word... maturity... that kids younger than about fourteen have to be pretty strange to even want to try it. Sometimes I think they’re from another dimension or something.”
Of all the young people at Lyceum, the one that gave Liberty the creeps most intensely was the youngest one, Sister Sarah. Every time she ran into the eight-year-old, she felt like a deep, dark secret was hiding there, something that Liberty couldn’t even begin to understand, and wouldn’t want to if she could. That feeling made Liberty Buchanan very uncomfortable.
The following Saturday there were a number of social activities in the evening, including a birthday party, a movie, and a hot pool party for her residence hall. When everyone else started wandering toward bed between eleven o’clock and midnight, Liberty still felt wide awake. She picked a cozy chair in the lounge on her floor and started reading the spy novel she had checked out of the library just that day. Before she knew it, two o’clock was approaching.
She put down the novel, but didn’t feel ready for bed. No one else was up, except maybe a security guard or two, and the night was warm. She got a light coat from her room and headed toward the Main Lobby.
A short little man was in the office.
“Hi,” Liberty said poking her head in.
“Hello there. You’re Liberty, aren’t you? I’m Tom.”
“Um, I couldn’t sleep. It’s okay if I go for a walk, isn’t it?”
“Of course! Just be respectful if you go near the campground.”
“I
will.”
She wandered out onto the steps that led down to the empty Main Plaza and stretched her arms over her head, enjoying the warm night air and the freedom of being nearly the only one awake. From this vantage point she could see that pathway lights were on along the wide walkways that led to the Amphitheater in one direction and to the Playground and Picnic Area in the other. But the little paths that wound through the theme gardens were all
dark... except that in one of them there was a single light on, and a small circle of trees and bushes was illuminated. Liberty became curious.
She wandered out across the plaza and came to the point she guessed was directly across from the light. Before her was the entrance to the Asian Garden. She entered, and soon had to slow down and feel her way with her feet and hands, trying to keep the crunch of the gravel path under her feet and avoid any collisions with trees and shrubs.
After a couple minutes of groping, just as Liberty was beginning to question the wisdom of her effort, she saw the light ahead. It was just a lantern, placed on the ground near one of the pools in the part of the garden that was decorated completely in the traditional Japanese style. Someone was sitting on the grass near it, tossing something into the pool. Liberty continued groping her way toward the lantern, and her progress became easier when she entered its circle of light.
As she walked the last few yards from the path to the person sitting by the pond, she could see that it was a little girl with long blond hair tied back in a pony tail.
“Hi, Liberty,” the girl said in a youthful voice.
Then the girl turned and Liberty could see that it was Sister Sarah. Liberty swallowed, wondering how she had known who was behind her.
“Um... you couldn’t sleep either?”
“I don’t sleep much,” Sarah said, turning back to the pond. “This is my time to do things I like to do.”
“What do you do out here?”
“Feed the fish... talk to them... count stars. Actually I don’t count them.
I’m not very good with numbers. But I can tell how far away they are by looking at them.”
“Um... how’s Mrs. Hutchinson?”
“Good right now. But she’ll die soon,” Sarah said, looking up at the stars.
A moment later she turned to look for a different star or constellation in the sky behind her.
Liberty cringed. She could see that the right side of the girl’s face and neck was strange, like leprosy, only worse, and it was all reddish. Liberty’s stomach turned, but she willed it to be still. She couldn’t, however, will away the
feeling of extreme distaste she was experiencing. Something was wrong here... something was weird.
“You’re some kind of mutant, aren’t you? Some kind of freak?” Liberty asked in a voice that was less than caring.
Sarah looked at her with sad eyes and shaking lips for a moment, then jumped up and ran into the darkness, not taking her fish food or her lantern.
Liberty immediately sensed she had done something wrong. She sat alone by the pond, looking down at the package of fish food, and the magnitude of what she had just done began to dawn on her. Had she just blown it... again?
She closed her eyes, and the memories of many other times when she had said or done the wrong thing came to her. Sometimes it was just getting in the habit of skipping classes. Other times it was an unkind word, or a broken promise, or chores left undone when someone was counting on her.
She was used to the situation. She had become an expert at it. No tears were needed. None would help. She picked up the fish food, and the lantern, and with slumped shoulders headed back toward the little residence hall room that was being temporarily loaned to her.
At six o’clock the following morning, Brenda knocked on Liberty’s door.
“Come in,” Liberty said in a flat voice.
“Hi! You’re gonna love the service in the Temple today, and breakfast includes Sister Maggie’s delicious... Liberty, what’s wrong? You don’t look like you slept at all!”
“I didn’t. Brenda, I think... I think I did something wrong. I think I did something that... no one at Lyceum would ever do.”
Brenda sat down on the bed and listened to Liberty describe what had happened.
“Oh, Liberty!” Brenda said with extreme disappointment.
“Here’s the fish food and lantern she left behind. Am I right to think that I’ve blown it?”
“I’m afraid so. Especially since Sister Sarah is on the evaluation team.”
Liberty’s face fell even further. Several minutes of silence passed, during which she considered what she needed to pack, and how soon she could contact her father to arrange a flight home... or to Texas.
“Unless...” Brenda began, “...no, that’s too old fashioned. No one does that anymore.”
“What?” Liberty begged. A seed of curiosity was sprouting. Brenda was glad.
“Well... there is a method of undoing a wrong like you have done, but it’s not very popular today.”
“Please tell me! I’d do anything if I could undo what I did.”
“Do you really mean that? You’d do anything? Because what I’m thinking of is not at all easy.”
“Anything!” The weight of the depression Liberty had been feeling for the last three hours lifted from her heart a little bit.
For the next twenty minutes, Brenda explained to Liberty what she had in mind. Liberty listened silently, a little afraid of the difficulty of what Brenda was asking her to do, but also very much aware that the stakes were high.
They went to morning worship and reflection together, and then to breakfast, after which Liberty did the clean-up chores she had been doing for several days. By then it was nearly time for the service in the Temple. If it had been up to her, in her current state of depression, Liberty probably wouldn’t have attended. But she knew that everyone at Lyceum was expected to help out at the public inspirational services. She figured that if there was a chance, however slight, of undoing the damage she had done, she had better know what the services were like.
Brenda insisted they sit in a certain area, in the row just above the main encircling walkway. She wouldn’t say why.
The service, to Liberty’s surprise, was called Summer Magic, and was a lively celebration of summertime activities, both realistic and mythical. On the main stage at the bottom of the Temple, a family acted out a camping trip, with little tents set up, a fire place with an artificial fire, and a row boat. Every time they had their backs turned or were asleep, the trees came to life, fairies danced, gymnasts in fish scale leotards tumbled in the ‘water’ around the rowboat, raccoons frolicked around the tents and sneakily crept away with items of food, and the flowers became a four part choir.
Liberty was amazed. She realized she had been harboring some misconceptions about the inspirational services. She found herself especially
watching the dancing fairies who were often in the walkway directly in front of where they were sitting. They were good, very good, using a mixture of the discipline of classical ballet, and the free-flowing expressionism of modern dance. She wondered if she could learn to dance like that...
Suddenly she recognized the little fairy who was dancing nearest to her. It was Sister Sarah. Liberty swallowed her pride and watched the eight-year-old dance. She was one of the best of all the dancers, Liberty admitted to herself
— strong, tireless, expressive. She had never seen such good dancing in someone so young. Liberty felt deeply ashamed of what she had said to the young Lyceum member, and had a glimpse of why she had been so uncomfortable around Sarah. Maybe... just maybe... Sister Sarah was a better, stronger person than Liberty Buchanan.
When the service was over, Liberty was very quiet and thoughtful. She and Brenda wandered back to the residence halls. Brenda continued explaining what Liberty could do, if she was willing, to undo her mistake.
“You said I should start by writing a letter to Sarah. Lots of eight-year-olds can’t read very well,” Liberty said.
“I assure you, Sister Sarah can read as well or better than you and I.”
Liberty’s theory about why Sarah had made her so uncomfortable was accumulating evidence. She perked up her courage and decided to test her hunch one step further. “I remember her saying she wasn’t very good with numbers.”
“Ha! She starts getting a little nervous when she has to do algebra or calculus, but she can usually get through it.”
Liberty was finally beginning to understand what must have happened.
She quietly helped set up the Sunday picnic lunch for the members in the Residential Lobby, thoughtfully ate her sandwich beside Brenda on a patch of sunny grass, and then retired to her room to work on her letter to Sister Sarah.
At four o’clock she signed the seventh version of the letter and went to find Brenda. Her companion read it, smiled, and showed her where the members’
mailboxes were located.
Sunday, July 16th
Dear Sarah,
I was wrong, and I beg for the opportunity to atone for what I did. I slipped into the judgmental habits of the streets where I grew up. I know now that you are smarter and more mature than I am. I guess I was looking for a way to put you down in order to make myself feel better. I’m sorry.
I will do your chores, and any work you don’t want to do, for as long as you want. I will do everything I can, with help from Brenda and Sister Nancy, to learn from what happened. I will do anything else you want me to do to completely atone for my stupidity.
I’m sorry that your friend Mrs. Hutchinson will probably die soon.
Hopefully someday I will be mature enough to be your friend. But I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my friend.
Sincerely,
Liberty Rae Buchanan
The following morning Brenda found a short note in her mailbox that indicated that Sister Sarah accepted Liberty’s intention to atone for her unkindness. Liberty breathed a sigh of relief, and she and Brenda sat down at a computer terminal to determine what of Sarah’s chores and work schedule Liberty should take on. They sent a note back to Sarah with a list of everything that Liberty was capable of doing.
Between helping Brenda on her baking shifts, doing her own chores of meal set-up and clean-up, doing Sarah’s dish washing and library aide shifts, and vacuuming the carpets in Sarah’s residence hall, Liberty found herself busy all day long and into the evening. The fact that not one single person at Lyceum teased Liberty for the situation she was in, even though many of them had to know in order to accomplish the temporary transfer of responsibilities, gave Liberty much food for thought.
When Liberty heard on Wednesday afternoon that Mrs. Hutchinson had just died, and remembered that Sister Sarah was spending considerable time with the elderly lady, she again felt small and inept compared to the strength
and responsibilities of the eight-year-old member.
That evening Liberty was reshelving books in the library when the call from her father came in. The librarian promised to save her the cart full of books, and Liberty ran all the way to the front office. When she entered the telecommunications booth that the lady in the office pointed out, she found Sister Nancy and Brenda sitting in front of a televideo screen talking about horses with her father, whose image she could see on the screen.
“...Yes, I also like the high-spirited Arabians,” Sister Nancy was saying.
“We have three of them here, and only certain people ride them. Here’s Liberty now, so we can get started.”
“Hi, Dad!” Liberty said, sitting in the free seat between the two members.
“Hi, Honey! I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner, but the Nuclear Disarmament Treaty is promising to be a real can of worms.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been busy. Did you splurge on that televideo unit you’ve been talking about for the apartment?”
“Not yet. I’m on a direct SatLink from the Capital Building. I found out that Lyceum has two channels. They keep one dedicated for U.N. business.
This is their other channel. Let’s get started, shall we, so you can all get back to your evening recreational activities.”
No recreational activities for me... until further notice, Liberty thought to herself.
“Let me start with you, Sister Nancy,” Senator Buchanan said. “In your opinion, is Liberty in good shape to begin the evaluation week?”
Liberty held her breath.
“Given her willingness to continue as she is now, doing her chores, taking responsibility for mistakes, learning more about Lyceum at every opportunity, I would say yes.”
Liberty
breathed.
“Sister Brenda, has Liberty been a nuisance to anyone?”
Liberty stopped breathing again, and she wasn’t even sure her heart was still beating.
“Oh yes. She reminds me of me when I first arrived! But she’s willing to learn, apologize when necessary, make good on mistakes she’s made, even if that means extra work. If she seems a little out of sorts, I want you to know
that someone here just died today with whom Liberty had some important contact. I’ll let her tell you about it.”
Liberty’s heart restarted.
“Your turn, Liberty. Tell me about your contact with the person who died.”
“Remember confidentiality ethics, Liberty,” Sister Nancy said.
“Good point, Sister Nancy,” the senator said. “Remember, Liberty, I am not a member of Lyceum.”
“Okay... um... by pure chance, I was passing her in a corridor when she was trying to decide what to do with fifteen million dollars...”
Liberty completed the story about meeting Mrs. Hutchinson, remembering not to use the deceased lady’s name or other particulars.
“Well, that was a profound experience. It sounds like you made as good a decision as anyone can make under such unexpected circumstances. Now, do you feel you are ready for Lyceum’s evaluation process?”
Liberty was thankful beyond words that Sister Nancy and Brenda had been willing to speak in general terms about her behavior so far. But she knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet in the situation with Sister Sarah, and she felt that her father deserved some slight knowledge of the fact that things still might not work out. “Well, I’m trying to get ready as fast as I can. Remember I said I wanted to come here because it would challenge me to be grown up?”
“I remember,” the image on the screen said.
“If I had known how much it would challenge me, I might have been reluctant to come.”
“Go
on...”
“But I’m here, so when Saturday rolls around, I’ll either feel ready, or I’ll give you a call.”
Michael Buchanan looked at his daughter in silence for a moment. He knew something was being left out. And she knew he knew. But he was not a fool, and recognized when something was too tender to talk about.
“Well, I guess I can’t ask for more than that. Unless there’s anything any of you want to add, I’ll get this paperwork in the overnight mail, and I’ll talk to you at the end of next week.”
No one added anything but pleasantries, so eventually the SatLink channel was closed and the screen went blank. Liberty thanked and hugged both of
the Lyceum members who had believed in her enough to let her continue the atonement process she had begun.
Thursday and Friday passed with Liberty working most of the day on her own and Sarah’s chores. On Saturday she continued the process, but was aware of other prospective members arriving for the first evaluation session at six o’clock in the evening. At lunch with Brenda, she expressed her concern, her voice close to tears.
“Since I’ve promised to do Sarah’s chores and library work for as long as she wants, then if she doesn’t say something, I can’t start the evaluation week, because then I wouldn’t be able to do the things I’ve promised!”
Brenda took her hand. “Don’t worry. Sarah knows when evaluation week starts. Remember, she’s on the team. Just focus your mind on fulfilling your atonement. If you don’t fulfill it, I assure you that you haven’t got a chance.”
While Liberty vacuumed part of Timbuktu Hall that afternoon and set the tables for dinner, she felt less significant than a worm in the mud. After dinner, at which Liberty ate little, Brenda walked with her back to their residence hall and suggested she get her Lyceum books and find a quiet couch in the Main Lobby to read. It seemed to Liberty to serve no purpose, but she did it anyway. Soon Brenda left, saying she had to check on her work schedule.
At about 5:45, Sister Sarah appeared beside her on the couch holding a little woven basket of fresh dark red strawberries.
“The scar tissue on my face happened when I was three. My dad’s tractor trailer turned over. Battery acid went all over the place. My dad died.”
“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I feel so small right now...”
“Being small is a good place to start life. These are for you.” She handed Liberty the strawberries. “They’re from my garden. I’ll take care of my chores now — I was starting to miss doing them after Phoebe died. And you’ll be busy now with evaluation week.”
“Are you sure? I... I don’t know if I should even try to become a member after what I did...”
“You should. You said in your letter maybe we could be friends. I’d like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s time for you to head for Conference Center One.”
Liberty didn’t know what else to say. She began to walk toward the archway that led to the conference centers, but stopped before she had gone far and looked back. Sister Sarah was standing there with a slight smile on her face.
“Thank you!” Liberty said as she waved back at Sarah, then turned and ran down the corridor toward the first session of the Lyceum evaluation week, being careful not to drop the strawberries.