38 ~ Bridging the Gap to the Journal of Simon Curtis
A SERIOUS REVISION
Tara, Josephine’s and Francis’ little girl was just old enough to recognize what the man was, and she pointed out excitedly to her toddler brother, “Look! look, Arthur, a policeman!”
Soon after he was born, both Josephine and Francis decided that he resembled Francis’s father more than hers, but probably it was Grandma Sue who helped Josephine make up her mind on this important question of naming the baby boy, Arthur.
Francis and Josephine had joined a homeschool group that called itself ‘Our Thing’.
Because the Clan’s extremely rapid and accurate auto travel service did not cease with their ownership of the watershed, they were able to get their kids to the group’s meetings anywhere in greater LA, well within an hour.
And recently, the Clan had provided them with a new vehicle, a modified New Sarx van to meet their increasing family needs. The Keen Maker grade modifications gave the ‘Magic Touring Bus’ an expansive internal capacity that allowed rapid transport of the entire homeschool group.
To explain its efficacy, Francis had showed to the fathers in Our Thing, the California registration and fees paid for the more than fifteen million dollar van; Josephine had begged the mothers to keep it a secret, because their wealth was a fluke of inheritance, and, anyway, she and Francis continued to work at their own, normally low wage, vocations in life. Most suspected that they had won the Lottery. None knew the truth.
Francis had heard Tara’s slightly anxious exclamation, and was behind her in a flash, but it was Sheriff Dalton Harrington himself who was Tara’s policeman. Francis had not seen him for several years, and his first thought was that he looked older.
For Tara’s sake, Francis embraced the Sheriff in Fr. Bruno’s emotional Italian style, and the Sheriff caught on at once, and he was soon giving Tara a few high tosses in the air and catching her smartly. She exclaimed,” Higher, like Daddy does!”
Dalton put her down laughing, saying “I’m getting too old to be a uncle.” His stetson had fallen off in the effort, and little Arthur was trying to sit on it. Josephine was poised at the cabin’s threshold to enjoy the glad moment, then she had run out, laughing, to save the hat.
“Well, my friends,” he said, “I think personally Fr. Bruno would have enjoyed this moment.” He paused, looked distantly thoughtful and smiled again. “My dear uncle left me with a short list of persons for me to invite to his funeral; you two are at the top.”
“He’s dead? We are? The kids, too?”
“Yes, kids are part of the big picture. He told me that your first was on the way that night at the Hendricks’ party.”
“We didn’t tell him, but Fr. Bruno seemed to know,” said Josephine.
Looking at them all, the sheriff said, “You are a beautiful family.” Then he looked around. “Funny, but after being away from your place, your wooded patch of paradise here seems somehow active in a secret way that’s just in the air. …That reminds me, Leverkuhn I had a question for you: Why didn’t charge me your going market rate for the portrait of Yvonne du Bois.”
“I charged what I might have gotten before we moved to California. I thought that was fair, and you paid.”
“And was very happy to, but here’s a new problem I’m bringing to you: After all these years, the French government wants to pay du Bois as much more as they paid for the Two Virgins statue. It’s a payoff no doubt, but I can’t safely cash their check for her, for my honest reputation’s sake. But, for a similar reason, for my standing in Europe and Asia among my peers, I need to have it cashed. And there’s the further problem that she’s been detained by ‘the authorities on the other side’, as you’ve told me.”
Francis said, “Dalton, so she’s really out of the picture?”
“Yes, as far as I know.”
Josephine observed, “Then, someone in the know must falsely be representing her to the French.”
“That’s what us honest cops think, too. But how it works might be an international hornet’s nest.”
“How can we help?” Francis asked.
“Do you think you could get the Clan to create, the plausible suspicion that it was cashed in California, without creating press waves, and that some local charities get the money?”
While they were talking, Tara was clinging to Josephine’s leg with the intensity of a child trying to understand a serious adult conversation while Arthur was attacking his mother’s hair with a toddler’s reckless abandon. He was put down with an slap to his wrist from Josephine, and Tara, demonstrating her knowledge of the situation, took Arthur’s hand and led him back, complaining, to the cabin’s open door.
“She’ll grow up to be an in-charge woman like you, Josephine,” Dalton remarked.
“Well, with that kind of flattery, let me see what I can do for you right now.” Josephine winked and strode over to her old Clan refurbished hatchback, slipped into it, started up the engine, and sat there for a few minutes talking. and gesturing.”
“What’s she doing?” asked Dalton.
“I think she’s talking to her ‘magic man Abe’; he’s a Keen Maker of the Clan,” replied Francis.
Josephine returned with a satisfied smile, “The Clan has a plan for you, Dalton. You know Molly’s Kitchen?”
“Yes. I get coffee there occasionally.”
“Abe said that you did. He said to give your financial instrument to Molly herself and say, “Please spread it around.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Abe said do that and it puts you under the Clan’s protection. It is an international hornet’s nest.”
“I’ll take my paperwork to Molly on the way down. You know, in my line, it gives me a warm feeling to have invisible friends,” Dalton said, chuckling, “and speaking of invisible friends. That brings us back to Fr. Bruno’s funeral. Fr. Bruno was in a rare joyful mood the day he died. I was there with the hospice people the whole day.”
“Will this be a full scale Catholic funeral, Dalton? We’ve hardly been inside a Catholic Church.”
“Poor children, I’d guessed as much. You’ll need a master of ceremonies and that’s me.”
“Dalton, you’re coming with us, that’s wonderful!” Josephine exclaimed.
“I’ve learned a lot in the last year from Fr. Bruno. Consequently, I know that this funeral will be very private, only those who are invited will be there, so it will be private for me as well; no press in other words.”
“Are you a practicing Catholic?” Francis asked. “I remember that you once said that you were ‘hardly religious’.”
Dalton smiled. “It’s been dealing on and off with your affairs, Francis, that’s moved me back into the fold. And, Josie,” he added, turning to her, “Fr. Bruno’s told me that you’ve had some serious conversations with him.”
“What!” Francis exclaimed.
“Oh, Francis, it was to get information for my doctoral dissertation; I’m sure I mentioned it to you.”
“I remember.”
“I wasn’t taking instruction from him. I’m sure you can’t even remember the title of my dissertation,” she said with a playful smile.
He tried to remember the typed title page, but it eluded his recall. That hardly ever happened. “Somebody’s playing with my memory!” Francis exclaimed.
Dalton looked strangely at Francis. “Somebody?”
Josephine laughed out, “It must be one of my Goth goddesses.”
Dalton looked perplexed.
“Wait, now my memory’s clear, the title is A Consistent Schema for the Existence and Involvement of Goth Goddesses in the Legendary History of the Clan of Thiuderieks. Dalton, that’s perfect for her modern doctoral committee.”
Dalton said, “Fascinating subject, Josephine, but I must confess that half of my interest is to get a ride in your New Sarx van. I’ve learned that I’m one of the few who are able to discover that you own it, and know how enormous are the registration fees paid to the state of California. My team has worked out that that fee is not an AI fluke; so, I suspect it’s the real, active, intelligence of your Goth Goddesses at work on the digital universe of us mortals. I want to see them at the funeral.”
“But Dalton, even if they are real, they are invisible.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no”, he replied. “Fr. Bruno thinks its an ‘interesting’ question; and, don’t forget Yvonne du Bois, what kind of a creature is she?”
“Let’s worry about that some other day. You simply must share lunch with us, Dalton. I’m sure there’s lots for Francis and me to catch up on with you about your city.”
FIN