City Limits
2
Hickory Roasted Coffee
Brain Scan
“I DIDN’T REALLY EXPECT we’d find anything,” Dr. Poltanys sighed as he pointed out the topography of Gee’s brain to him. “There are no signs of brain trauma. Frankly, you are a picture of both mental and physical health. Any new memories that have cropped up?”
“I remembered walking into town from the north and seeing that bar out on the edge of town, the Pub & Grub,” Gee said. “I remember feeling disoriented and thirsty, but the pub was closed. I don’t remember a lot of what I saw as I walked through town. Houses, I guess. A library. The next clear thing was the falls. I wanted water and didn’t feel like I could move. Then Marian, little Devon’s mother, screamed and I ran to see what was happening. I guess we’ve covered everything else.”
“Okay. Let’s count that as a slight expansion. And you mentioned an inscription in the book, but it didn’t trigger a real memory. Try to be aware of images that flash through your mind. Don’t focus on words or what you think of as memories. Just things that seem to be automatic for you and any images that appear. I see you shaved. Ellie told me you use a straight razor. Any problems?”
“None. I was thinking that tap water was never hot enough.”
“Hmm. How would you get it hotter?”
“I suppose I’d put a wet towel in a microwave.”
“That’s good. Something inside has told you how to get your beard softened. Our physical bodies are often triggers for memories. Things that smell familiar. Favorite songs. Whatever feels familiar,” Poltanys said.
“I’ll try to stay aware. It seems simple. Could I ask one more thing?”
“Sure.”
“Is it important?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is hard to explain. I know I must have had a life before Rosebud Falls. I’m thirty-four years old. But, I don’t feel like I’ve really lost anything. I’ll stay aware because everyone seems to think it’s important, but I don’t feel incomplete. Does that make sense?” Gee asked. Poltanys looked puzzled.
“I’ll have to do some reading about this. Most of our scientific studies have been about disease-related memory loss. Sundowner’s syndrome, Alzheimer’s… that sort of thing. There aren’t really that many cases of trauma-induced memory loss. Most of what people know about it is speculative or outright fiction. Looking at it from this side of the equation, we think how terrible it would be to lose our memories and how much we’d miss them. But maybe from your side it doesn’t seem so bad because you don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“I’m going to release you. I understand you’ll be staying at the Panzas’ house. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if there are any developments or if you experience discomfort. Give us a call in ten days and Ellie will take the stitches out.”
“Um… How do I pay? I don’t have any money, but Nathan says I’ll have a job next week. I can bring some money when I get paid.”
“I’d say not to worry about it, but you seem to be the type who would. We’re a non-profit hospital, funded by various charities and grants. We charge for services, but when we have treatments that can’t be paid for, we have funds to cover them. If you want to pay for your treatment and last night’s room, do some volunteer work. We can always use help. Until then, live your life.” Poltanys scratched something on his clipboard and looked back at Gee. “If you have a headache from the blow, take an aspirin. I’m not prescribing any painkillers. Go.”
“I’m so glad there are no other problems, Gee,” Marian said after she met him in the hospital lobby. “I’m sure you’ll recover your memory soon. In the meantime, let’s get you home and settled in your new room.”
“Thank you, Marian,” Gee answered as he took a squirming Devon from her arms.
“Gee!” said the little boy.
“Dee!” he responded. “Let’s get you in your car seat, little buddy.”
“I some buddy!”
“You sure are.” Gee finished stowing his pack and fastening the seatbelt on Devon’s car seat before sliding into the passenger seat of the Prius. Marian stopped to check Devon’s belts before she started the car.
“You did that like an old pro,” Marian said. “Do you have children?”
“I wish,” he laughed. A puzzled look crossed his face. “That’s like one of the things Dr. Poltanys said to watch out for. I knew how to buckle a child into his seat, but my automatic response to you was that I wished I had children. That tells me I don’t. I wonder why. Children are important.”
“Maybe you were a teacher.”
“Hmm. Say, do you mind if we stop by the police station? I promised Detective Oliver that I’d come in after the hospital to get fingerprinted and photographed. He’s going to see if he can find me,” Gee said.
“We can do that. Doesn’t it make you nervous?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Most people try to keep their fingerprints out of public records. They feel the less the government knows about them, the better. Here you are and no one knows anything about you and you are willing to be fingerprinted, photographed, and have your information put through all the government databases.”
“I didn’t even consider that. Here’s what I think. I’m a stranger that you invited into your home. If I was some kind of criminal, would you still be comfortable with me living with you? Wouldn’t you want to know?”
“You’re doing this for us?”
“For everyone. I… It’s funny. Maybe I should care about staying hidden, but I don’t. Today, I feel blessed. I have new friends. I have a new home. I have…” he almost said a girlfriend but he could scarcely claim his instant infatuation with Karen Weisman put her in that category. They hardly knew each other. “I have possibilities. I don’t care who I used to be.”
“Then for everyone’s peace of mind, let’s get you fingerprinted.”
A Trustworthy Tenant
“THANK YOU for coming in, Gee. Sorry about the mugshot. I know it looks like you are a criminal,” Detective Oliver said. “The height background helps to refine a match, but most of the actual work is done by facial recognition software these days. It’s a long time since we had to sit a person down with a book of mugshots to try to get them to identify a perp.”
“I don’t mind. I know everyone will rest easier if they know who I am.”
“Then there is one more thing we can do, but you need to sign a release in order for me to take and submit a sample.”
“What’s that?”
“We can run a DNA test against CODIS, the US national DNA database. It will turn up any match to a known criminal. If there are no matches, the DNA is destroyed.”
“Let’s do it. Do you need my blood?”
“No. It’s called a buccal smear. Basically, I use a cotton swab to wipe the inside of your cheek, drop it in a sterile container and ship it to the lab. There are about ten million samples on file in CODIS, but they are all of convicted or suspected criminals.”
“If nothing else, it would eliminate ten million possible people I could be,” Gee laughed.
“I’ll ask you again, Mrs. Panza. Are you sure you want to do this?” Detective Oliver said. “You’ve got a kind heart, but we don’t know anything about the man you are inviting into your home.”
“Yes, we do,” Marian responded. “We have twenty-four hours of evidence that he is a good man, selfless, and a keeper of promises. He didn’t have to come in to get fingerprinted, photographed, and DNA tested like a common criminal. He did it because he told you he would. And because he believes that if he is a danger to anyone, we should be told.”
“Okay. I’ll buy that. George Edward Evars, in care of Nathan Panza, 683 Joshua Street. You now have an address.” The detective stood and pulled Gee with him a few steps away from Marian. The left corner of his mouth pulled back slightly and he squinted. “Let me tell you, son,” he growled quietly, “if you betray the trust of these people or harm them in any way, I will hunt you down like a rabid dog. I’m watching you.”
“You have my word, Detective.”
Mead Oliver watched Gee leave with Marian and reached for the phone.
“He’s on his way to the Panza house. There’s still no sign that he’s a danger to anyone,” Mead said.
“I’m not as worried about him being a danger to any particular person as I am that he’s a danger to the City. Until I meet him myself, I need your eyes, Mead. Follow them and just make sure you can respond in an emergency for the next hour or so. My gut tells me it will be a boring hour.”
“As you wish. I’m on my way.”
The attic room was partitioned with a door that separated it from the stairway. He could stand up straight in the center of the room, but the ceiling sloped down on either side. Against one wall, a mattress and box springs sat on the floor, neatly made up with a bedspread and matching pillow covers. A table and chair claimed the space under the window at the end of the room and the bureau against the left wall was as tall as the half wall itself. Braided rugs were tossed casually around the room on the pine floorboards.
“It’s not much, but I hope you will be comfortable. I’m afraid there’s no lock on the door, but I promise no one will come up here without your permission. I have a baby gate that latches across the bottom of the stairs so Devon can’t start climbing. Don’t trip over it when you come down the stairs. Especially at night.” Marian bounced Devon on her hip, not letting him down to run around the room.
“It’s really lovely. Thank you, Marian.”
“When you’re settled, come down and we’ll have some lunch. Nothing fancy, just a sandwich and soup. Devon is going to get testy if I don’t get him fed.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Marian hit the speed dial on her phone as soon as she set Devon down at the foot of the stairs.
“No problems, honey,” she said cheerfully when Nathan answered the phone. “Gee was fingerprinted and submitted DNA for testing. He’s putting his things away upstairs and I’m preparing some soup and sandwiches. Devon adores him.”
“I worry about you,” Nathan answered. “I’m all in favor of helping the guy out, but he makes me nervous. Don’t… you know… get in any compromising positions, okay?”
“Nathan, honey, there isn’t even the slightest spark between us. Not on either part. He’ll be like a brother to us both. Or maybe a visiting cousin,” Marian assured her husband.
“I love you,” Nathan said.
“I love you, too. And so does Devon. I’ll have a nice dinner ready when you get home this evening.”
After she disconnected, Marian went about the task of getting lunch. She wished Nathan wasn’t so insecure, but at the same time she was soothing her own doubts about having the strange man living in her attic.
It was so easy to trust him.
One Eye on Main
GEE SKIPPED DOWN the front steps of the Panza house after an early lunch, intent on exploring his new ‘hometown.’ Within a block, sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck as the July temperature rose into the eighties. A quick three-block walk took him to Main Street.
Main Street, USA. It was almost a cliché. Businesses lined the east side of the street while the west side had just enough room between the street and the railroad tracks for the post office and old depot. The stores and businesses shared common walls between them, but each business was painted a different color. Names on the upper façade declared enterprises founded in the 1800s. The store windows seldom bore the same name.
He stopped to pick up a newspaper just outside the office of The Elmont Mirror, and glanced through the window, hoping to see Karen, He did, but when he saw the expression on her face as she apparently argued with an older man in the office, he moved on without interrupting her day.
Music filled the street outside the local radio station. He looked through the window, directly at the broadcaster sitting behind his desk and microphone. The man waved a friendly salute and Gee returned the gesture. He stepped back toward the curb to get a better look at the broadcast studio.
“WRZF Radio, Rosebud Falls,” read the lettering on the window. At the bottom of the window, Gee read aloud, “With One Eye on Main.” Next to the door was a picture of the announcer and broadcast schedule. The door of the station opened and the broadcaster stepped into the street.
“Hi. Don’t recognize you,” he said. “I’m Troy Cavanaugh. I broadcast the morning show and get out of there as soon as my shift is over.” Gee glanced back at the window to see a young woman settle in behind the microphone and position her headset. She smiled and waved. Apparently, that was standard for the broadcasters who did their shows directly in the public eye.
“Uh… Gee.”
“Don’t be awed. I’m just like everyone else,” Troy said as he held out his hand.
“Oh. Sorry. My name… is Gee.”
“Really? Very interesting. Oh! Wait.” He took the newspaper from Gee’s hand and looked at the front-page article about the daring rescue. A grainy photo, probably taken on someone’s cellphone, showed a man diving off the Fairview Bridge. “That’s you, isn’t it!”
“I… uh… I guess so.”
“You need to come in for a live interview. Can you stop in tomorrow morning? You’re more of a celebrity than I am,” he laughed.
“Not really. I just…”
“I’ll bet Karen wrote this and that slime editor dropped her byline. By nightfall he’ll have convinced half the town that he was the one who saw you, took the photo, and wrote the story. He’ll get his eventually,” Troy said. “I’m heading down to Jitterz. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“That would be great,” Gee answered. “I’m just trying to get acquainted with the town a little.”
“Well, next door to the station here is Citizens Bank, the oldest of our financial institutions. Are you staying in town long?” Troy asked.
“I guess. I live here now.”
“Well, not that I’d ever say this on the air, but rather than bank here, I’d go a block over to First Rose Valley Bank. It’s locally owned and operated. Karl Nussbaum is a good guy and a member of one of the Families. You’ll learn all about the seven Families, I’m sure. His daughter, Krystal, is an absolute knockout. Former Miss Teen Elmont County and first runner-up in the state competition. If she could sing as well as her cousin, she’d have won,” Troy said as they headed south on Main. He seemed quite happy to pass on tidbits of town history and local gossip.
“This is where to come for a great cup of coffee,” Troy said as they approached the complex of shops south of Fourth Avenue. An ice cream shop on the corner connected inside to a lounge with lots of tables where people sat with laptop computers. Large ceiling fans gently stirred the air. The heavenly smell of roasting coffee led them on into Jitterz, the coffee shop and bakery. Beyond, Gee could hear the sounds of an arcade.
“Give us a couple short Americanos, please, Elaine,” Troy said. “Do you need room for cream, Gee?”
“No. Just black.” The response was automatic and an alert went off in his head. I like black coffee. Dr. Poltanys had told him to investigate things that came automatically. His taste buds came alive with the thought of black coffee. He sighed.
“Our coffee isn’t that bad,” the barista said, handing Gee a cup. “You don’t need to be so mournful about it.”
“Oh! Sorry! I was thinking about something else. The coffee is fine.”
“Gee, this is Elaine Nussbaum. She will never forget what you drink. Elaine, Gee is the guy who jumped off the bridge to save that kid yesterday.” Elaine was pleasant enough. She was a bit overweight and spoke softly, but there was a musicality in her voice that belied her looks. “Elaine is one-fourth of the Nussbaum Quartet,” Troy continued. “She has the voice of an angel.”
“No, I’m still not going to sleep with you, Troy,” Elaine giggled.
“That you could think such a thing of me,” he laughed placing a hand over his heart. “Take care of yourself, Angel.” They found comfy chairs in the lounge and Troy watched Gee take his first sip. Gee’s brows went up in surprise. He curiously took another sip and his expression changed again—this time to utter bliss.
“This is amazing.”
“I love watching a person’s face the first time they try Birdie’s coffee,” Troy laughed.
“Birdie?”
“Birdie Lanahan owns Jitterz. And all the other shops in this little complex. Don’t let the name fool you. She’s black as coal and claims to be from Jamaica, mon. But she talks like an Irishman. She got that from her husband, Red. She tells everyone that the coffee is Jamaican, too, but I doubt that as much as I doubt her origins. I’d guess Haiti based on her reputation for voodoo,” Troy said conspiratorially.
“The flavor is incredible. If it’s not Blue Mountain, she must have a secret of some sort.”
“It’s the roasting. Birdie has an old wood-fired roaster that she feeds with our local Rose Hickory. In addition to the flavor of the dark roasted coffee, you get the smoky flavor of our number one resource.”
“The hickory?”
“Yes. A third of our town is covered by the Forest. If you haven’t been out to it yet—and since you’ve been in town only a day, I’d guess you haven’t—you need to make a trip out there. Wood for smoking and roasting is strictly allocated by the foresters. Birdie gets her share,” Troy said.
“That’s amazing. And the coffee is great!”
Grimm’s Market and Meats
FRIDAY, Gee rose early to walk to work with Nathan. Halfway there, they stopped for a cup of Birdie’s coffee, then crossed the river at the southern bridge. South Main was more industrial than the business district.
As far as supermarkets go, Grimm’s was a step above most family stores and perhaps a step below the big chains. It had long been their policy to handle only food and kitchen supplies. People didn’t go to Grimm’s for greeting cards and magazines, but rather for fresh-cut meat and produce.
Nathan led Gee through the store to a stairway at the back. “Rupert is kind of an old-world butcher. He doesn’t want anything on the main floor that isn’t food related. You should have seen the arguments when we added toilet paper and facial tissue to the paper goods aisle,” Nathan laughed. “So, the offices are located up here above the stock room, refrigeration, and receiving. This office is Frieda Grimm’s. In case you didn’t catch it when we were talking at dinner last night, Frieda and Rupert are Marian’s parents—my in-laws. If anything, their divorce clarified the roles within the store. Frieda is CEO and handles all the administrative details, including new hires. I manage the operations below.”
“What about Rupert?”
“He’s the butcher. Much happier slicing meat than he is thinking about how to run a grocery store.” Nathan opened the office door and Gee met an imposing woman he guessed to be in her early fifties. “Frieda, I’d like to introduce George Evars. He prefers to be called Gee. This is the guy who saved Devon’s life Wednesday. He needs a job and I need help with stock downstairs.”
“Of course you do,” Frieda sighed. “Welcome to Grimm’s, Gee. Have a seat and let’s get you ready to work. We’ll be less than an hour, Nathan. Clock him in now.”
“Thank you, Frieda,” Nathan said as he backed out. He acted just a little afraid of his mother-in-law.
“Mrs. Grimm…”
“We’re informal here, so I’m just Frieda. Let’s get the application filled out.” She pushed a form toward him and he quickly filled out two lines before pushing it back. She looked a question at him. “Your name and my daughter’s address. What about job experience? Social Security number?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Identification?”
“I don’t have any.”
Frieda contemplated how to handle this with one hand against the side of her head and her eyes closed.
“Bank account?” she asked. Like every other question, Gee just shook his head. If it weren’t for the fact that he saved her grandson’s life, she’d send him on his way, maybe with lunch from the deli. Maybe not.
It wasn’t difficult to hire an undocumented worker for a day or two, pay them cash and bury the expense. Even before she took over the business side of the operation, Rupert had often enough done that with high school kids and transients. But to have one on the long-term payroll was a special kind of problem.
Her husband and high school students. Frieda shuddered as she glanced out at the front of the store and saw Onyx Grimm walk in. To be fair, Onyx was out of college when she made her play for Rupert. He’d been clueless and easy prey. The horny old goat.
At least I don’t have to put up with that anymore.
Still, she missed some of the good things. They were just so long ago.
Frieda tapped her little finger against her forehead, returning to the matter at hand.
“Okay, here’s how we’ll do this,” Frieda said, getting another form from her drawer. “This is a Form I-9. All official documents from the Immigration office say that a business is only audited if it is near a nuclear or national security site, or if the employer is suspected of abusing undocumented workers. The truth is that it’s easy money for the government, so they routinely investigate small businesses just to collect a hundred to a thousand dollars per illegal employee. Then they run the scam again the next year. It’s pretty much like a protection racket.”
“Perhaps I should just work odd jobs around town,” Gee said. “I don’t want to put you at risk. That’s certainly not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?”
“I guess I’m only one of several people who want to know that.”
“Well, odd jobs won’t keep you off the police blotter. Fill out the I-9 first page. Name, address, and birthdate. The second page is where I’m supposed to examine your proof of eligibility to work. What I’m going to do is make a note here saying, ‘Identity documents withheld pending police investigation.’ You need to visit Detective Oliver and get a copy of his investigation report so I can attach it to the I-9.”
“I can do that. Detective Oliver has been very helpful.”
“I don’t expect there to be any problem with authorities. Rosebud Falls is a… very tight community. You arrived and became a hero. As long as you don’t mess that up, the whole town will do its best to protect you. However, if you do mess it up, the least of your problems will have to do with the government of the United States.”
“Frieda, I don’t know who I really am, but I know I’m not the kind of person who will intentionally cause harm to this town or anyone in it.”
“Good. You’ll be paid seven-fifty an hour to start. I’ll withhold taxes based on zero deductions, including withholding Social Security and Medicare payments. I will also deduct and escrow a portion of your pay, up to one thousand dollars total over the coming year, to pay any fine levied by ICE. You can expect take-home pay of about two hundred fifty dollars per week and I’ll cash your paychecks since you don’t have a bank account. We pay on Fridays for work done on Friday through Thursday. Nathan will show you how to clock in and clock out. Welcome to Grimm’s Market and Meats.”
“Thank you, Frieda. I’ll work hard to show I deserve your trust.”
A Walk in the Woods
“WE’RE NOT REGULAR church-goers,” Nathan said, blushing. “I’m not really that interested. If you’d like to come, it’s okay, but don’t feel obligated.”
“Like we do,” Marian sighed. “That minister, Beck, caught us at a vulnerable moment in the hospital. We were worried we’d miss you and sort of promised we’d come to church this morning.”
“To express our thanksgiving,” Nathan sighed. “I really don’t want to do this, but we promised.”
“I’ll pass, thank you,” Gee said shaking his head. He remembered all too well the overbearing minister at the hospital. He couldn’t blame Nathan and Marian for succumbing to the pressure. “Do you need someone to take care of Devon?”
“No. That, at least is covered. No matter what the preacher wants, I don’t feel comfortable taking Devon there. But Mom has a standing date with her grandson on Sundays,” Marian said.
“It usually gives us some alone time,” Nathan added. He looked longingly at his wife. Gee was about to leave them alone when Marian’s cellphone rang.
“Yes? Oh, hi. Sure, he’s right here.” Marian turned to Gee and giggled. “It’s a girl!”
“For me?” Gee squeaked as she thrust the phone into his hand. “Hello?”
“Hi! It’s Karen Weisman, your trusty news reporter. How are you settling in?”
“Oh hi, Karen. Pretty well. I have a job and have already worked two full days. My boss is pretty tough, but he gave me today off.” Gee winked at Nathan.
“I thought we might continue our little interview this afternoon. Maybe I can show you a little more of our town.” Gee’s heart began racing.
“Tha… that… would be great,” he said. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. Karen wants to get together! Well… for an interview. “Where shall I meet you and when?” They concluded their arrangements and Gee handed the phone back to Marian.
“A date?” Marian sang.
“Um… Just another interview. I guess I’m not old news yet.”
“Right,” Nathan laughed. “I’m sure you’ll have more fun than we will. Oh. Frieda’s here.”
After they’d eaten at the Golden Dragon, Gee was more than willing to join Karen for a walk. He’d been a bit embarrassed that she’d snatched the bill away from him at the restaurant, proclaiming that it was a business lunch. He’d borrowed twenty dollars from Nathan so he would have enough cash.
Karen led him across town, first stopping by Memorial Park in front of the statue of the Seven Heroes. “The story behind this monstrosity is far too long to tell at one sitting,” she said. “But a lot of our town’s history and not a little bit of our tension are woven into it. I just wanted to point it out so you have a landmark when you visit the courthouse and police station over there. Even a little town like ours can be confusing to a newcomer.”
“Thank you. I remember the police station, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to exactly what was around it,” Gee acknowledged. “And I remember this… clearly,” he said as they approached the bridge over the Rose River.
“Are you… Will you be okay crossing it?” Karen asked. “You didn’t exactly get to the other side the last time you were here.”
“Do you mean, will I dive off the bridge or have some kind of PTSD flashback? I don’t think so. I’m not sure I want to look over the edge at what I dove into, though.”
“This is the quickest way to get into the Forest. There are a lot of access points, but they are all on the east side of the river.”
“Several people have mentioned the Forest,” Gee said. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
They crossed the bridge without incident and continued on to the entry.
“This is beautiful.” Something about the Forest kept Gee’s voice hushed—a tone that was almost reverent. “It’s not like a wild forest. But it doesn’t look planted in rows either. It’s just so… neat.”
“I’ve been learning a lot about you today, Gee,” Karen said. “I’ve learned you are a hard worker, a kind man, and you have a nurturing spirit. I wanted to share with you a bit about what makes our little City of Rosebud Falls unique. The Forest is inside the city limits and is open to everyone to walk and explore. But it isn’t owned by the city. It isn’t a public park.”
“Who owns it?”
“Mostly, the Families. The seven founders of Rosebud Falls laid claim to all the land around here and then sold portions to new settlers. Every landowner in the city owns a share or part of a share of the Forest, proportional to the amount of land owned. As the shares were sold, though, most of the Families retained the voting proxies for them. So, the founding Families still control and maintain the Forest.”
“Why? I mean, it’s beautiful, but why the… uh… fanaticism? I don’t know. It just seems like a lot of complications over a few trees. No matter how beautiful they are.”
“There would be no Rosebud Falls without the Forest,” Karen said. “It is a rare type of hickory… Never eat the nuts; they’re poisonous. Its wood is beautiful; the smoke is what makes Birdie’s coffee unique, and even though they are poisonous, the nuts are the main ingredient of a wide range of products from lotions and creams to pigments to chemical products. A small army of foresters patrols and maintains the grounds while every person in the city helps during Harvest when hundreds of tourists descend on our little burgh. The Forest is our lifeblood.”
“So that’s how these seven Families became rich, I suppose,” Gee sighed. “They exploit everyone in order to profit from their private Forest.”
“Oh, no. I wish I could describe this better,” Karen said. “They own it to protect it. Everyone in the city profits from the Forest.”
“A bucolic paradise.”
“I’m not saying everything is perfect about either the Forest or the Families. Believe me, I’ve uncovered some dirt that would make your stomach turn. But what I’m trying to say is that there is a powerful connection between the people of Rosebud Falls and this patch of woodland. You’re new here. You’ll have an easier time relating to people if you understand that connection.”
“What’s this?” Gee and Karen stopped at a chain link fence and looked at the buildings beyond.
“This is Lazorack Lumber Mill. The Lazorack Family started it to process the timber coming from the Forest almost two hundred years ago. It’s still the only place that our Rose Hickory is processed, but of course, that’s a small part of its total output. Logging trucks from the hardwood forests up north bring in raw materials all summer long. Keeps the mill working year-round.”
“What do you want?” They spun to see a thin man with short, graying hair approaching them.
“I was just getting a tour of the Forest,” Gee said. “I’m new in town and was told it was important.” The man looked past Gee and fixed his eyes on Karen.
“Oh. You.” Gee could hear the disdain in the man’s voice.
“We…”
“You look strong. We’ll have work for you at Harvest,” the man said.
“I… My job is at Grimm’s.”
“Everyone works Harvest.”
“Mr. Lazorack, Gee hasn’t had a chance to get oriented yet,” Karen said. “This is just a get-acquainted tour.”
“Get-corrupted tour is more likely. You stir up enough trouble. There’s no reason for you to be fixing things that aren’t broken, Miss Weisman.”
“Only when there is an injustice that we can still remedy, Mr. Lazorack. The embarrassment will be short-lived compared to the honor that will evolve.”
“Just stay away from the Mill,” Lazorack grumbled. “The Forest continues over there.” He pointed across the road before turning to unlock the gate to the mill and locking it again after himself. He didn’t turn back.
“Um…” Gee started as Karen took his arm and guided him across the logging road.
“David Lazorack,” Karen said. “Head of the Lazorack Family and Chief Forester.”
“One of the seven Families?”
“Yes. But he’s not happy about it. Don’t judge the Families by his attitude. His father was killed in a Harvest accident less than a year ago and David was forced into leadership he didn’t think he’d have to assume for years. He’s mostly a good man, but he has his issues, too,” Karen said. They continued through the quiet woodland.
“Gee,” she said, “the DNA test Detective Oliver gave you… you know there are other tests that might reveal more.”
“What kind of tests?”
“Well, the same ones, really. It’s just that the swab he took will only be sent to the criminal databases for a match. There are services though that do family analysis and heritage testing in the same way. For example, it would tell if you were part French and part Zulu—not that I believe you are either,” she laughed. Gee raised an eyebrow at the odd combination. “They were just nationalities I thought of that were extreme,” she explained. “But these tests are voluntary. They are non-government and retain the DNA signatures. People even volunteer family history to go with their DNA sample. If you submitted a sample, they might find a close enough match to identify at least a potential relative.”
“I’m willing to do that, Karen, but why?”
“I chose to become a reporter because it allows me to stick my nose in everyone else’s business,” Karen said. “In another life, I was probably Nancy Drew. You are a mystery I want to solve. If you’ll let me. More than anything, I want to know why you are in Rosebud Falls. Especially now.”
“Why especially now?”
“The City is on the verge of a crisis. A lot of people will be upset. Maybe even the Families. We don’t have such a huge population that one person can’t make a difference. Sure, Detective Oliver wants to know if you are a criminal. I want to know if your influence will affect the outcome of our changes.”
“Wow. That’s heaping a ton of expectation on a guy who just wandered into town and can’t remember more than his own name. I’m not here to change things. I just want to settle down and be a productive citizen.” Gee paused and tried not to look directly at Karen as he added, “Maybe get married and raise a family.”
Perilous Times
“OUR READING THIS MORNING is from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter five, verses ten to twelve,” intoned Deacon Stewart.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.
“May God add his blessing to the reading of his Holy Word.”
“Amen.”
“The Word of God can be difficult for mere men to comprehend. Even when we believe we understand the words, we may not know how they apply to our lives. We are blessed to have called into our service a great interpreter of the Word of God—a true shepherd of his flock. Let us empty our hearts and our minds and prepare to receive God’s blessing. Pastor Beck.” Stewart moved aside as Lance Beck strode to the pulpit and mounted the step behind it so he could see over the top.
“Brothers and sisters, we live in perilous times,” Pastor Beck began.
“Amen.”
“You might think I refer to perils of the flesh—to Islamic terrorists, pornography, homosexuals, illegal aliens, and government infringement of our God-given rights—but I speak not of physical danger. Our bodies are temporary vessels. What matters it if we die in an auto accident on our way home this afternoon? What matters it if a terrorist’s bullet finds my heart? It will do naught but liberate my soul from this mortal flesh.
“No, my brothers and sisters, it is not peril to the body of which I speak, but peril to our souls. For we as a church—as children following the Lord—will be reviled, persecuted, and falsely accused. We cannot hope to escape this peril. If we are doing the work of the Lord then we can expect it! It is guaranteed that people will hate you for your faith. We can expect persecution around every corner, for the world is not a Godly place.
“But how, my friends, will you respond to that persecution? If you were put on trial for your faith, would there be enough evidence to convict you? That question spells out the peril to your soul. Will you rejoice and be glad—stay faithful and true in the face of revilement, persecution, and false accusations? Or will you, like an undisciplined child, pay no heed to the frantic calls of your Heavenly Father, and instead plunge into the turbulent rapids of damnation?”
Deacon watched the congregation attentively. He’d held this office and run the church so long that even people unassociated with the church called him ‘Deacon’. The name was his identity. The church was his domain.
Pastor Beck continued his moving sermon. They’d chosen the pastor well. For years now, he’d been building the congregation with many families from outlying farms and communities—a dynamic engine of evangelism. And each new family brought new children.
They would not, of course, siphon off the children of locals. They needed the testimony of the families to show how effective the church’s training in obedience was. Beck’s reputation as a deprogrammer of homosexuals, potheads, and rebellious children was a draw across the nation. Their children’s ‘camp’ was full. And with the discoveries they’d made over the past few years, the programming success was deemed irreversible and undetectable. Perfect little boys and girls who did whatever they were told. Whatever.
His eyes fell upon the couple who had nearly lost their child this week. They squirmed in their seats. Becoming convicted of their sins. He could see that soon, they would come to Pastor Beck for counseling on how to discipline and train their son. There were so many good examples of obedient children in the congregation. And the generation of adults who had been through childhood programs in the church were easily used. Like the pink-haired space cadet. She’d been carefully groomed over the years to look rebellious and dangerous. But in truth, all he needed to do was suggest something to her and give her a communion wafer. Go and sin some more, my child.
There was always a place for obedient, unquestioning children.
“I couldn’t stay and listen to him any longer!” Marian fumed. “I’m sorry if you think I was rude. Did you see the rest of those children? I have never seen a bunch of kids who looked so cowed. I will not have Devon brainwashed of all his creativity and intelligence!”
“Honey. I agree. I’m not as bold as you are, but I’d never let our family return to that awful place,” Nathan tried to calm her.
“He implied that Devon falling in the river was our fault for not being parents who could make their child obey and that he should have been spanked soundly as soon as he was pulled from the river!” she continued as if he had objected to her viewpoint. “I feel guilty enough about letting him out of my sight. But he wants us to beat Devon for it. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ he said. That’s not even what it says in the Bible. Not that I’d give any more weight to a biblical proverb than to any other aphorism. He might as well have said, ‘A stitch in time saves nine.’ It’s not about sewing.”
“We’ll never go back, sweetheart. You and Devon are all there is in the world for me. I’m not going to go get religion somewhere and destroy our home. I love you.”
“If I ever see that man again, I’ll… Oh, Nathan. I’m a mess. I love you, too. I’m just so angry… All the smug parents’ faces… All those cardboard cutout children… We have to do something, Nathan. What can we do?” Marian demanded.
“First, we care for and protect our family,” Nathan said softly. “Our family, Marian. We can’t go out and launch a campaign against parents because their children are too well-behaved. But we should let our friends know. Warn them. Especially those who have discipline problems. For a frustrated parent, he has a tempting message.”
“But how do we give them an alternative? You know how awful it was when Devon was colicky. We’d have done anything for relief.”
“Maybe we can find help—an alternative way for parents to deal with volatile children that doesn’t involve programming them like some kind of robot.”
“We’ll do it, won’t we?” Marian said, sucking in her breath and stifling her sobs. “We’ll find a way.” She embraced her husband, and assured of his emotional and physical support, allowed their kiss to deepen.
A Little Help
“YOU’RE NOT A PARENT, Gee. At least that we know of. You can’t know how hard it is sometimes,” Nathan said as they walked to work on Monday. “It’s not just that we make mistakes in our parenting. We accepted that and just make it our priority to let Devon know that he’s loved and cherished. And he’s a good kid! We know people who have absolute terrors for children.”
“Devon knows he’s loved. And he listens to you. You can’t train a child like a puppy and expect him to heel on command,” Gee said.
“Exactly.” Nathan paid for their coffees at Jitterz and they walked quietly to the bridge on lower Main. They paused to look out at the turbulent water of the Rose River. “The thing is… I don’t know why I feel like I can talk to you like this… But Sundays are our day to connect. I mean Marian and me. And… Well, yesterday wasn’t a good day. We had a lot of pressure built up about Devon falling into the river, you coming to live with us, and then that preacher… unspeakable. We won’t get another chance to… connect until next Sunday. It’s really…” Gee could hear the frustration in Nathan’s voice as they continued toward the market.
“What kinds of activities are available for kids and parents in the evening? Are there playgroups? Gyms? Children’s theater? Music? Art? Reading? I mean, anything where you might get someone to take over for a while so you and Marian can connect?”
“I guess we’ve depended on Frieda and Rupert as our babysitters. Frieda takes him every Sunday and that has been great, but I’m sure even she needs a break now and then.”
“Well, I’m still trying to figure out what to do with myself when I’m not working, and don’t want to be a burden on you and Marian, either. I thought I’d look for activities I can do after work. Troy mentioned a summer softball league and that there are often pickup basketball games at the school. I’ll keep an eye out for activities Devon might like as well.”
“That would be great. It’s not like I’m trying to palm him off on someone else, you know,” Nathan sighed. “It’s just that sometimes a couple needs some help.”
Easier to Get Rid of Her
DAVID LAZORACK surveyed the faces of the three other men and the woman seated at Heinz Nussbaum’s table. At fifty-five, David was the youngest of the Family heads and was not happy to be at the table. The unexpected and shocking death of his father during the previous year’s Harvest forced the responsibility on David. The fact that Jan Poltanys, just eight years older than David, had been the Poltanys Family head for nearly twenty years, did not comfort David. Jan’s father was still living, even though Alzheimer’s had robbed him of his rationality. And Leah Roth-Augello, six years older than David, held the place at the table on behalf of her father, old Ben Roth. She was a shrewd business woman and tended to manipulate the rest of the Families to suit herself.
David listened to Loren Cavanaugh as he covered the financial prospects for the Forest based on his projected allocation of the crop. At seventy, Loren continued to make the final decisions on the financial aspects of the Forest, though he left day-to-day business management to his son, Clark. Of course, Cavanaugh didn’t operate in a vacuum. He’d walked the Forest with David in May to go over the productivity estimates. The trees were in full bloom and David used his experience as Forest manager to predict the tonnage of nuts, dry wood, and felled wood that would be available. He also proposed his budget for maintaining the Forest, his foresters, and even the cost of milling the timber. Loren was a good businessman, but David doubted the ability of his son to maintain the same level of professionalism.
Finally, Heinz Nussbaum chaired the meeting as the oldest Family head at the table. Like David’s father, Heinz was one of the orphans of the Seven Heroes, the young men of the Families who went off together to fight World War II and never returned. After the general business, Heinz turned to Leah. She summarized the findings of her report.
“She refused to even let me in the house. God knows what other damaging papers my wanton aunt might have left behind, but Judge Warren agreed that the will was legitimate and binding. The house, the property, and all the contents legally belong to her,” Leah said.
“She’s always been a crusader,” Heinz acknowledged.
“Well, now she’s a crusader with access to Family secrets,” Leah said. “She wants to legitimize the Ransom line as Roth Family heirs. And she wants her own proxy returned so she can ‘personally vote her share in the Forest,’ as she declares.”
“Why?” David asked. No one ever contested the proxies held by the seven Families. As long as they got their share of the profits, that was all anyone cared about.
“To get her little nose into our business,” Leah scoffed. “She wants all the inside dirt. But on the plus side, she’s said she’ll vote it with the majority and support the annexation. Frankly, she could be an asset this fall. I hate to admit it, but she has quite a following in the city and even circulation numbers for the newspaper are up.”
“It would have been easier to just get rid of her,” David snarled.
“David! The Families haven’t done anything like that in over a hundred years,” Leah reprimanded him.
“Really?” David scanned the faces of the others at the table. Someone had killed his father last year. He was certain the accident had been contrived and had launched his own fruitless investigation. It was his father who had led the movement to annex South Rosebud, citing the condition of the trees in the section the foresters didn’t manage. “We should hope, then, that your grandfather’s and aunt’s notes don’t show anything different.”
“David, I know you’re still upset,” Heinz sighed. “There’s no reason any of us would want your dad gone. We’re all in agreement with the annexation. He was a good leader and a great forest manager. And, I’m proud to say, a good friend. I also know you didn’t want all the responsibility of the Forest dumped on you yet. But you are a good forest manager and we’re all proud of you. Don’t hesitate to call on us when you have difficulties.”
David was not comforted, though he stopped complaining. Something was going on in his town and he couldn’t put his finger on it. It threatened to upset the way they’d existed for two centuries. He admitted it could be an outside influence, but wanted to believe it was the reporter. Or perhaps it was the mysterious appearance of the new guy in town. David wasn’t usually a violent person, but he couldn’t help the desire to lash out.
“It would have been easier,” he sighed.
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