Sister Laura, who at other times was the Children’s Librarian in Rapid City, South Dakota, had called the next-door neighbor before appearing on the doorstep of the Clark residence. The neighbor had rushed over to tell Mrs.
Clark that company was coming. It was a rare enough occurrence.
That small rental had once been the home of a family consisting of mother and daughter. Then it had become the abode of the mother alone, with infrequent visits from the daughter who resided only a quarter mile away in the Rapid City Convalescent Center. Then, for the last five months, the daughter had been residing in Oregon, and the humble doorstep had not seen her passing. Now, she would come no more.
It took awhile for Sister Laura to talk Mrs. Clark into turning off the television. Luckily a half-hour segment began for which the large lady had no soap opera or game show loyalties. There were few such half-hour segments during the day.
Sister Laura began by emphasizing how Jenny had been able to fulfill her dream of finishing her music. The large human form taking up most of the old couch did not seem to hear. She was staring at the wall. As simple minded as she might be, it was obvious to her that this visit from a Lyceum member could mean only one thing. Not knowing what else to do to soften the news, Sister Laura went on to explain that Jenny had passed away without any pain, and with friends around her. Mrs. Clark continued to stare at the wall.
The non-resident member had been prepared to comfort a grieving mother. After an hour of attempting to say little comforting things, and getting no response, she decided that this particular mother’s grieving process was going to be different than she had expected. She got her first response when she suggested that they go out to eat.
To Sister Laura’s complete surprise, Mrs. Clark just picked at her food.
But the presence of the hot roast beef sandwich somehow brought her out of the state of shock she had been in.
“Was Jenny... happy there?”
“From what I understand, she was very happy, except that it took a great personal effort to last as long as she did. But she wanted so much to finish her music that she fought hard...”
“When is her funeral?”
“At your convenience. How soon can you come?”
Mrs. Clark was silent for a moment. Very little in her life had ever been at her convenience.
“I don’t suppose I get to stay for a week anymore...”
Sister Laura had neglected to discuss this subject with Brother Kenneth when he had called with the details of the assignment. But she was a Lyceum member, and she knew that gave her the authority, and the responsibility, to make the best possible decisions in any unexpected situation.
“Part of saying good-bye to someone is saying good-bye to places that were special to one or both of you. Lyceum would be happy to have you for another week or two during and after the funeral...”
The large lady stirred her mashed potatoes thoughtfully. “Thank you,” she said in a more humble tone than she had used in many years.
February 19th
Dear Mrs. Clark,
This letter is to formally notify you that your daughter, Jenny Clark, passed away at 7:53 p.m. on February 17th. I was nearby, was with her within moments of her loss of consciousness, and determined that nothing could be done to revive her, as her cancerous tumors were at that time in an
advanced stage of growth. Her death appeared to be painless, and that is typical for the type of cancer she had.
She was immediately taken to the clinic, where I performed a more thorough examination and declared her deceased at 8:05 p.m. Her body is now in cold stasis in the Lyceum Mortuary awaiting her funeral and burial, which will be held on February 25th, as you have indicated meets with your approval and travel plans.
The first performance of the musical work composed by your daughter was attended by 1,532 people, and a royalty statement is enclosed, together with a check for $4,135, which is the 40% of net receipts that are payable to your daughter’s estate.
Enclosed is also a voucher for up to two weeks of lodging, meals, and other services at Lyceum to assist you with this time of grief. Also, we would be happy to have you as our guest for Memorial Day, or any more convenient weekend, every year so that you can visit your daughter’s resting place.
Jenny will be missed by all of us. Her musical work will be published in the near future, and royalty statements and checks will be mailed to you quarterly. If you have any questions or needs that we have not addressed, please feel free to call or write.
Sincerely,
Kenneth Partlow, M.D.
In mid-February, a new theme appeared in the sermons of the Reverend Tommy Mitchell. That theme included the name Lyceum, and it was not for the purpose of thanking the international service organization for the services it had provided the reverend and his family more than two years before.
Luckily, a Lyceum member was present at one of the first sermons that contained that new theme. Assignments quickly went out to non-resident members in all the cities where the Reverend Mitchell was scheduled to preach, and the reports flowed back over teledata or SatLink channels.
Lyceum had a problem.
Both Shawn and Liberty were asked to attend the next meeting of the
Lyceum Council, which was devoted largely to that problem and its possible solution.
Sister Rebecca began, her weathered, angular facial features accented by her gray hair. “We have all reviewed the security report that Brother Shawn, Sister Liberty, and Brother Fred authored. It was very thorough, but...”
“But we completely missed the obvious,” Liberty interrupted. “We didn’t want to believe he would use twisted religious dogma and emotional scare tactics!”
Those words jabbed deep into Shawn’s heart. She was talking about his own father. But he also knew, underneath the emotions he was feeling, that she was very close to correct.
“You
do have a way of getting right to the point, Sister Liberty,” the elderly member who had been speaking said. “And I honor that quality in you. We are going to need to be very honest with ourselves about what we are up against, if we are going to successfully deal with the threat that has arisen. Let us begin with a brain-storming on all aspects of the problem, before we begin to ponder possible solutions.”
“I want you all to know that it’s going to be hard for me to sit here and listen to everyone talking about my father,” Shawn said, his voice revealing his deep feelings on the subject.
“We understand,” Brother Felix said in a comforting tone. “We are also aware that what is happening could severely damage, perhaps even destroy Lyceum, if left unchecked. Even though it will be hard for you, can you do it?
Can you... will you help us with your insights about the man who is attacking Lyceum from the pulpit, the man who happens to also be your father?”
Liberty, who was sitting next to Shawn, moved closer and took his hand in hers. She knew he was going to need all the strength in the world to do what they were asking him to do.
Shawn took a deep breath. “I’ll... try very hard. I don’t like what he is doing either.”
“Thank you, Brother Shawn,” the tall, white-haired man said. “And we’ll be beside you every moment, and we’ll be with you still even if you need to step out of the process occasionally. And I assure you that we will deal only
with the problem, and do nothing to hurt your father in a personal, vengeful way.”
“I understand,” Shawn said. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t realize sooner he’d do something like this. Liberty’s right. It was obvious, but we didn’t want to consider it.”
“No one holds you accountable for your oversight,” Sister Rebecca said. “It was understandable, and it is obvious that you have learned from it.”
The fifty-three council members and the two guests spent the next two and a half hours discussing every aspect of the problem that confronted Lyceum, from the possible loss of revenue from certain churches and groups who might take their conference business elsewhere, to security issues that would arise if followers of the Reverend Mitchell attempted acts of vandalism or sabotage. It was generally agreed that the evangelist could have no effect on Lyceum’s international reputation or its diplomatic work. Lyceum’s primary vulnerability, they realized, lay in its new Atlanta campus, scheduled to open in less than four months. If local public opinion turned against the new campus, situated in a part of the country where the Reverend Mitchell and other evangelists had significant influence, the damage could be nearly irreparable.
The Council adjourned, and everyone spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon at their regular activities while pondering what they had heard.
Shawn attended the meeting of the team working with Marty Jelwen, and then had a quick lunch with Sarah, sharing with her his feelings and concerns.
She didn’t know much about the politics of religious evangelists, but her hug and the gentle caress of her strong mind, just before Shawn ran off to his Children’s Program shift, reassured him that he was with friends who would stick with him no matter what happened.
The children kept his mind off the weighty issues, but during Greek language class, he began to feel very guilty. He realized that none of this would be happening if he hadn’t come to Lyceum. By dinner he was convinced that he had the primary responsibility to solve the problem his father was creating, if he possibly could. He just didn’t know how.
When the Lyceum Council reconvened that evening, it so happened that many of the councilors were of the same opinion, not because the problem
they were facing was Shawn’s fault, but simply because he was the one who could most effectively solve it.
Shawn listened carefully as member after member agreed with the idea that Shawn would have to confront his father, publicly if at all possible, preferably at one of his upcoming televised revivals where about ten thousand people would be present, and another two million watching from their homes.
The thought would have scared him white, except that it would also fill his personal need to absolve himself of the guilt he was feeling. He couldn’t imagine coming back to Lyceum to live for even one more day after he went to see his father unless he did everything humanly possible to put this mess behind them for good.
“It will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, standing up there alone to confront my father. But I know I have to do it,” he said after the basic plan had been fleshed out by the councilors.
“No one envies you the task you must do,” Sister Ruth said, “but you will be far from alone. There will be security people to protect you, and I’m sure your friend Liberty would be happy to be one of them...”
Liberty nodded enthusiastically.
“There will be additional Lyceum people throughout the audience for psychological purposes. I’m sure your friend Sarah, and Sister Rachael as well, will make good use of their talents in that area. And a number of technicians will be necessary. Your mentor Brother Jacob will be near, and your friend Ashley, and anyone else you want at your side. I can easily see a team of fifty to a hundred Lyceum members heading for Birmingham on April seventh. No, Shawn, you will not be alone.”
Shawn brightened. “Thank you. But I still have to be the one to speak to my father. I hope I’ll know what to say...”
Sister Maria stood. “That is where the still, small voice inside you comes into play, Shawn, and the legions of angels who will be with you watching and listening. If your father is going to try to hurt others with lies and twisted theology, his indwelling spirit and his guardian angel are going to be unhappy with him. Stick with the truth, and you will have help beyond your imagination!”
Shawn smiled as Sister Maria sat down.
Liberty was peering into a vivarium in the Residential Lobby that contained a variety of reptiles while cleaning the dirt out from under her fingernails. Gardening class that day had been spent in the greenhouses transplanting tender little things into larger pots and planters, and talking about root shock and soil compatibility and other issues very important to the little green things who were at that moment completely dependent upon their human caretakers for life or death. Jason would get off work soon, and they planned to go for a walk and see what was sprouting in the woods.
The sixteen-year-old boy had noticed how his lover had become much more interested in small, delicate things ever since her mentor had been killed, and that she had become much quieter and more thoughtful, enjoying long walks during which they would often be silent for many minutes at a time.
As she was having a staring contest with a king snake, knowing well who would win, her pager chimed softly. She had recently reprogrammed it for a softer, quieter tone.
“Liberty Rae here...”
“Your father’s on SatLink channel two.”
“Thanks,
Heidi.”
After scribbling a note for Jason at a nearby desk and sticking it onto the vivarium, she walked toward the office in the Main Lobby, wondering how her father was doing.
As soon as she entered the telecommunications booth and selected the channel, she could see that her father was in his office in the Capital Building.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, daughter of mine. Do you have a new mentor?”
“No. Do you have a new fiancée?” she replied in a soft but challenging voice.
The senator cleared his throat. “I’m a little too old to go looking again purposefully. If someone happened to come along with anything like Nancy’s qualities, I’d consider it. But you’re not too old to have a mentor.”
“If someone happens to come along with anything like Nancy’s qualities, I’ll consider it.”
He was silent for a moment, feeling irritated with his stubborn daughter.
Then he softened. “You are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Last time I checked my birth certificate...” she said and smiled.
The senator smiled back from his office two and a half thousand miles away. “I have a purpose for calling. I need an impartial, respected host for a high-level international four-day conference on the Nuclear Disarmament Treaty. Facilities need to be up-scale and exclusive, confidentiality needs to be absolute, and security needs to be excellent.”
“You called the right place, Dad!”
“And I need it in two weeks.”
“Ouch. Let me see what I can do.”
Liberty touched an intercom button that connected her directly to the office. She related the conference requirements to Sister Heidi, who began working at her computer screen. Senator Buchanan added more details as the process continued.
“Our main problem is going to be a group of thirty school children from Montana who are staying over the first night of your conference,” Sister Heidi’s voice said.
“Ages?” the senator inquired.
“Eight to eleven, with two adults along.”
“No problem, as long as we can do a security check on the adults and brief them. Any facilities conflict?”
“None. They’re here for the science labs,” the member in the office said.
“We could even lodge them in the residence halls to help keep things separate.”
“Okay,” he said, “let’s set it up. Consider it top-secret. All public knowledge will come through the President. He plans to announce it to the media the day the conference begins, but still keep the location hush hush.”
“Wow. That means we have to close Lyceum for a few days without saying why!” Liberty said, a little unsure of the propriety of the situation.
“That’s right. Or you could do like the government and lie about the reason — plumbing problems or something,” her father suggested.
“But won’t people figure it out when all of a sudden Lyceum’s closed and the President announces there’s a conference going on somewhere secret?”
“Yes, but hopefully not in time to sabotage it.”
“I see,” Liberty said.
“How
about
Closed For Remodeling?” Heidi suggested. “The Welcome Center needs a new coat of paint as I remember.
Liberty chuckled, remembering that the Welcome Center’s walls were almost entirely glass.
“I’ll inform the President, and an advance team will be out in a day or two.
Thanks, Honey. Now, about that mentor...”
“I’ll get a new mentor when I’m good and ready, father of mine. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a date with a very cute boy.”
“Well,
now
I
know I’ve lost!”
“That’s right, Daddy! Will I see you at the conference?”
“Yes, but that fact has to remain between you and me.”
“Good. I love you, Daddy!”
“I love you too, Honey.” With a satisfied but slightly sad look on his face, he closed the channel and the screen went blank.
Sister Laura offered to accompany Mrs. Clark to Lyceum for her daughter’s funeral. As no objection was forthcoming, she quickly booked a sleeping room on a train that would get them to Portland the day before. She knew it was going to be one of the more unpleasant assignments she would carry out for Lyceum. She was right.
After two days of bus and train travel, Mrs. Clark’s mood seemed to have improved somewhat. She was approaching the one place where she was welcome without reservation, where people didn’t laugh at her, and where she could enjoy life for two whole weeks without accumulating any bills. It was easy to forget that there would be a difference on this particular trip.
Sister Laura, however, was completely fried by the two days of shared accommodations, and was looking forward to a relaxing hot pool soak, the company of friends she hadn’t seen in several months, and a good night’s sleep. She very much hoped that others could tend to all of Mrs. Clark’s needs after they arrived. That wish had been anticipated.
When Ashley greeted Mrs. Clark, the gymnast was in her leotard. She had tried to return to her normal training routine that week, as the National
Championships were less than three months away. But she had found that she was so distracted by thoughts of Jenny that her concentration was poor and she was falling from the balance beam repeatedly and coming very close to missing the uneven parallel bars on her release moves. She and her coaches had decided, by Tuesday afternoon, that a week or two spent only on basic skills and conditioning was probably necessary. Ashley hoped that the funeral would allow her to regain her focus.
As she shook the bulbous lady’s hand, Ashley saw a different look in that face than she had ever seen before. The eyes weren’t shifting from side to side as was their previous habit, constantly searching for something to eat, Ashley had always presumed. Now they seemed unfocused and confused, unsure about the meaning of events that were unfolding. Ashley could tell that those eyes did not, as yet, understand what had been lost, and were not, as yet, grieving.
Mrs. Clark and her luggage were taken to her favorite room, and Ashley returned to the gym for a little more tumbling practice, after which she planned to curl up in bed and work on her notes about what she wanted to say at Jenny’s funeral. The only thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to talk about Jenny’s music. She knew others would be doing that, and parts of Jenny’s song would be played during the funeral. She had other things to say.
Mrs. Clark had been invited to speak at her daughter’s funeral. She had immediately declined, but during breakfast on that quiet Sunday morning in late February, the member who was her companion heard her mumbling to herself, seemingly pondering what words would be appropriate. A message was sent to the funeral coordinator to plan for the possibility that Jenny’s mother would speak.
After breakfast, the large lady was presented with two new dresses that had been made for her by a Lyceum member. For a while she sparkled, knowing painfully well how little was available in her size. She immediately selected one of them to wear that afternoon.
Those who had been closest to Jenny had no responsibilities at the funeral other than to participate as each could. Ashley attended the inspirational
service and went to the gym for some very basic work on the balance beam, and then spent the early afternoon quietly looking over her notes and slowly getting dressed. Brother Kenneth went on a long walk alone, thinking of all the patients he had lost... and all the patients he had saved. Brother Chad wandered about the editing lab where Jenny had spent so much time working on her symphony, and then he listened to some of his favorite Mozart in his apartment while dressing. Brian was nowhere to be seen.
When the hour of the funeral finally arrived, everyone who had known Jenny made their way solemnly toward the Ecumenical Temple, along with about two hundred other members, nearly a hundred others from the region who had attended her concert, and one nurse from the Rapid City Convalescent Center, all wanting to pay their respects. Mrs. Clark looked around her in confusion.
“Why are all these people here?”
“They all knew your daughter,” her companion said. “Some were close to her. All of them know of her or have heard her music. We’re reserving some time for you to speak if you decide you’d like to...”
“Oh... no... I wouldn’t know what to say.”
Nearly four hundred people slowly gathered in the lower circles of the Temple. Even those who weren’t seated high enough to see into the casket had been able to gaze upon the deceased as they had come down the aisles.
What they saw was no sickly invalid, but a beautiful girl just approaching the flowering of her youth, with golden shoulder-length hair done as she would have liked, and a full pink dress with accents of white lace. Flowers were tucked in around her and many more filled vases nearby. Only one thing seemed strange: one of her arms lay upon her chest, its hand empty.
A quiet passage from Jenny’s song opened the funeral, with the sounds and laughter of children at play superimposed. After a minute the audio faded to an unobtrusive background, and the nurse who had known Jenny before she came to Lyceum stood and spoke. She had brought with her words of remembrance from several others who had known Jenny in the nursing home. She concluded by stating that she was ordering several copies of Back To The Stars for delivery as soon as it was published, one of which would be played for all the nursing home residents who remembered its composer.
The part of the symphony that had always troubled Jenny the most preceded Brother Kenneth’s time. He talked about how she had been willing to try almost anything, as long as she could grow her hair back and work on her music. He spoke of how the darkness had gathered and pushed in upon her consciousness, and how she had fought it for weeks in order to finish her work and say good-bye to her friends. And he spoke of the serene patience and understanding that Jenny had shown, and the insight she now possessed into the greatest mystery of life, an insight that no mortal present at the funeral could claim. Then he went back to his place.
The computer generated all seven voices of the approach to the climax of
Back To The Stars, and lasers created musical notes that danced on the edge of the casket and finally floated away, higher and higher, until they disappeared somewhere above the highest balcony of the Temple. Brother Chad stood. He had much to say about the creative power the world had lost when Jenny passed away, and he invited the listeners to imagine the many beautiful works that would have been written if Jenny had been able to stay with them. He ended by describing the presence that now existed in the editing lab, a presence that, at least for him, would never be exorcised or forgotten.
After everyone listened to Ashley’s favorite part of the song, the section she had always called Tumbling, she talked about all the things that Jenny liked to do other than work on her music, such as take walks in any kind of weather, and watch just about any movie or planetarium show at least once. She told about the walks they had taken back in Rapid City to get snacks and go window shopping, and the many tea parties they had shared in Jenny’s room in the Hospice Center. Finally she described the words of farewell Jenny had spoken at the conclusion of her first and only concert.
Before Ashley had a chance to leave the podium, a figure began to descend from the uppermost rows of seats that were currently unlit. It was a small figure wearing a simple brown robe and carrying something about a foot and a half long. Ashley watched the figure enter the light, and realized that her guess was correct. Everyone followed her gaze.
Brian came slowly down to the bottom of the Temple, his steps revealing the great sadness that weighed upon him. He said nothing, but held Jenny’s
recorder out to Ashley.
She understood. He wanted her to give it to Jenny for the last time. But also he needed to say good-bye to the ten-year-old as much, or more, than anyone else. She accepted the recorder from him, but then held out her hand to him and stood there waiting.
He had wanted to slink away at that point, but realized that Ashley, already known for her strength and assertiveness in trying situations, wasn’t going to let him do it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he took her hand and allowed himself to be led. Together they approached the casket.
Ashley placed the instrument into Jenny’s empty fingers. Then she squeezed Brian’s hand with a grip that came from eight years of gymnastics training. He knew she expected him to do his part.
He closed his eyes to try to get a moment of relief from the crushing hurt he felt. Suddenly he knew what he longed to do. He opened his eyes and looked at Jenny’s lifeless body. Then he leaned into the casket and kissed her for the last time. Her skin was cold and stiff, and that unmistakable feel of death made him burst into sobs as he turned and headed quickly toward the nearest exit.
But as he was passing the second row of seats, something made him stop.
Ashley was walking beside him, but hadn’t done anything to bring him to a halt. He looked around, and his eyes met two other very sad eyes. Not knowing why he did so, his hand reached out, and the large lady stood and was soon standing there in the aisle with Brian and Ashley crying her eyes out and putting her arms around the young man.
Ashley saw an opportunity and took it. She slowly guided the grieving pair to the podium. During the next ten minutes, neither spoke to the audience as the other speakers had, but rather they shared with each other fond memories of Jenny, and the funeral guests listened in on their dialogue, which was constantly punctuated with sobs and sniffles, and few of the listeners remained unmoved.
On any other occasion they could not have had such an exchange. But their hearts were open and their defenses were down, and Brian listened while Mrs. Clark shared the haunting, unbearable quiet of her house after Jenny had gone to the nursing home, and she listened while Brian told of their many
walks together, often just holding each other tightly for a long time in some secret place.
Finally they had both said what they needed to say. Ashley could tell it had been good for both of them. She guided them back to the seats, and a space was made beside Mrs. Clark for Brian. As soon as they sat down they smiled at each other.
Ballet dancers entered and they leaped and pranced around Jenny’s casket even as bearers approached and lifted their burden and bore it away into the Tunnel of Ages, an obese lady and a slender boy walking behind, holding hands and still, at times, crying out loud.
Ashley came a few paces behind and smiled, seeing the odd pair walking hand in hand. Then, as she sat by herself in an obscure corner of the Mortuary while the casket was on display for the last time, her own feelings caught up with her again. Liberty and Shawn noticed and surrounded her with their arms while she shook and sniffled and moaned about the guilt she had felt each time she had cut short a visit with Jenny to run off to gymnastics or a class.
The three friends walked together in the final procession. Jenny’s grave site was the kind of place she would have liked, tucked away amongst some bushes and trees. The prayers that were said spoke of melodies and harmonies that would rise up to Heaven and be pleasing to God and all the angels, and expressed thanksgiving that Jenny had been able to leave the beautiful gift of her music with those on Earth.
Jenny’s mother, Brian, Ashley, Chad, and two of Jenny’s closest friends from the Hospice Center tossed in the first pieces of dirt, and doing so caused the tears to flow again. Others came forward and tossed in dirt, or flowers, or letters they had written to Jenny. Many condolences were shared, and those who had not been close to Jenny began to wander back indoors as dinner time approached.
Mrs. Clark stayed by her daughter’s grave until the mist turned to rain at about seven o’clock. Ashley knelt quietly beside Brian for another two hours, sometimes praying, sometimes listening for answers to her prayers, sometimes just remembering Jenny and her music.
When she finally arose and prepared to go inside, Brian showed no sign of
being finished with his vigil. All that was known was that he was not there the following morning, nor elsewhere that he could be located.
Three days of stormy weather followed the funeral of Jenny Clark. Most of the members of Lyceum began preparing for the Nuclear Disarmament Conference that was only a few days away, even though thoughts of Jenny and her music lingered for nearly all of them. It was a new experience for Lyceum to host a government-sponsored event that would require nearly every facility on the campus, and at the same time to keep it all top-secret. But the government planning team sang many praises for the level of cooperation they received, and for the high confidentiality standards that were already in place in all of Lyceum’s programs.
One hundred members were not preparing for the conference. Instead, they were packing. On the following Saturday, two days before the conference would begin, they would be loading their belongings onto trucks and buses and beginning a journey that would end near Atlanta, Georgia a few days later. A brand new Lyceum campus awaited them, having been under construction for the last year, and they would be its first members. They would have three months to get a tremendous amount of work done before the new campus was opened to the public.
A huge farewell party was scheduled for that Friday evening. Everyone was excited about the opening of Lyceum’s second campus, but also nearly everyone would be saying good-bye to someone they were close to. The three friends were spared that trauma: those leaving did not include Sister Heather, Brother Jacob, Jason, Sarah, Karen, or Tabitha.
As a hundred members prepared to transfer to the new campus, a number of non-resident members had decided that this was an excellent time to get more involved in the work of the service organization they had joined. Nine would be helping to offset the loss of members at the Portland campus, and another six would be going directly to Atlanta to augment the start-up effort there.
Shawn had a pleasant reunion with Brother Dancing Raven, the member who had driven him over the Rocky mountains during his flight from South Carolina. Dancing Raven revealed to Shawn that Sister Linda, the Utah
corporate executive, was handing in her resignations and would be arriving on campus in a few weeks.
The arrivals and impending departures had a different effect on both Liberty and Ashley. Together they sat down at a computer terminal and gazed thoughtfully at the list of campuses that would be opening during the next few years, and the language requirements of each. This year, Atlanta. Next year, Basel, requiring German, French, or Italian. Ashley grinned. The year after that, Moscow, needing Russian. Liberty smiled. After that, Beijing...
Even with all the preparations that were going on, not everyone was busy.
Charleen was on a long walk alone that day, glad for a break in the weather, and nervous about all the federal Marshals and other agents lurking about in the buildings. She had wandered deep into the African Garden when she saw him. He was sitting by himself on a boulder that was off the path and almost completely hidden by bushes. She smiled to herself, gathered her courage, and approached.
The boulder was big enough for several people, so she climbed on and sat down, as if she too had heavy things to ponder. Actually she did: how to talk to a boy she liked very much but who was still sad about the death of a girl he had loved.
“I won’t tell anyone else about this rock,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said without lifting his chin from his hands.
“I don’t want to bother you. I’d just like to be near if you’d like someone near.”
For several minutes he didn’t speak, but just kept gazing off into the woods.
“I guess you want to be alone right now, so I’ll go...”
He looked directly at her for the first time since she had sat down. Even though it would be long before he quit thinking about Jenny, his three days of reflection had gone a long way toward clearing his thoughts. He saw before him a pretty young cowgirl who was his age and who had recently been accepted as a resident member of Lyceum.
“Um... wait. I guess I could use some company. I’ve been alone since the funeral...”
Charleen smiled and settled herself back onto the rock. She knew she would have to be patient and understanding. That was okay. She was willing.
On Sunday afternoon, the day before the conference was scheduled to begin, the weather was dry and even slightly sunny. Liberty spent two hours making some serious progress at getting her garden presentable, and then gathered her tools into a bucket and headed back toward the Residential Lobby. She was surprised to come around a corner and discover her friend Ashley sitting in the dirt pulling weeds.
“Hi, Ashes. I didn’t know you were on the grounds team...?”
“I’m not. This dumpy-looking patch of ground is mine now... to somehow make a garden out of.”
Liberty set her bucket down and perched on a nearby log. “I thought you were going to wait for summer to start your garden.”
“I was. Then... things happened. You know. All of a sudden I desperately needed to make something grow, instead of everyone around me getting hurt or dying.”
“Oh, Ashes! You can’t carry around a bunch of guilt because of either Karen or Jenny! Neither one was your fault in any way. Karen would have done what she did even if you had never come to Lyceum, and Jenny would have died in Rapid City if it wasn’t for you, with nothing to leave behind but a few tunes in the fading memories of a few nurse’s aides.”
Ashley looked at the moving clouds for a moment. “You’re right. I know all those things, but I don’t feel them yet. Maybe gardening will help.”
“Yeah. Out of all that dirt that looks dead, things will start growing very soon, starting with that witch grass you’re pulling if you don’t get the roots out better than that!”
Ashley cracked a slight grin. “How do I get the roots out?”
“Fork up the ground before you start pulling.”
“Thanks. But right now I’d better clean up and head for my kitchen shift.”
“And I have a security briefing tonight. Want to walk back together?”
“Yeah. Hey Liberty? Thanks... for being there at the funeral and everything. I would have been in the pits without you and Shawn.”
“Hey! The three of us joined together, and we’re going to stick together,
right?”
“Right!” Ashley said, smiling.
The two girls headed along the walkway toward home, bumping each other as they went, then putting their arms around each other, glad for their friendship, glad they both now had gardens, and each glad that the other showed no signs of dying of cancer, or getting shot by a sniper, or anything else terrible. They felt safe at Lyceum, and believed the evils of the world that hurt or killed other people could not touch them.