by Rob Summers
Chapter 26 The Petition to Grace
It was late, much too late for visiting. Grace was probably in bed asleep and would not be happy to be waked by an impertinent teenager. Nevertheless, Wittily walked down Flood Avenue and turned down the alley that passed behind Grace House. When she came to the gate in the high back fence, however, she found it locked, so there was nothing for it but to go to the front door. As she made her way around the house, the first snow of winter began to fall in flakes that looked undernourished. Only a few lights showed inside as she came to the tall double doors and knocked.
Reason answered, wearing a green robe with red trim and carrying a mug of some steaming drink. She looked just minutes from a long winter’s nap.
“Wittily! Did you forget something when you left?”
“I’m sorry to come so late. May I come in?”
“Of course you may, but what is it? Everything all right at home?”
Wittily looked around the softly lighted entrance hall, all hung with evergreen boughs, lights, and wreaths. “I wondered if the Ambassador might still be up? I don’t want to trouble him, but we do have some problems at home. Maybe if I could see him for just a minute?”
“I’m afraid he’s probably gone to bed,” Reason said. “But why don’t you come in the kitchen and wait while I go up and check?”
“Thank you. I know you must think this can wait till morning.”
Reason did not answer, but led her to the kitchen, which was rather a livelier place than Wittily had expected. Love and Faithfulness were still up, still dressed, and seated at the table wrapping presents. They welcomed Wittily warmly, explaining that several of their brothers and sisters had gone to see a late movie. All the Christmas presents were already wrapped, they said, but these were actually birthday presents, for it happened that Wisdom’s birthday fell on Christmas. The sisters had volunteered to wrap the boy’s presents for Reason, but because of the family council and what not, had only just now found time. Eggnog and Christmas cookies were their self-administered reward for their work.
“There’s quite a story behind Wisdom’s birth,” Reason said. “A Christmas blizzard, and we had no power that night. I couldn’t get to a hospital. But I’ll tell you about it some other time, Wittily. I’ll go see if Grace might still be sitting up.”
As Reason went out, Wittily wished she could have heard more about the power being off. What had they done for heat? She sat down and helped wrap gifts, listening to the sisters’ friendly talk and observing, as through a filter, the warmth and glow of this house on Christmas Eve. Inside herself she felt left out in the cold. Buried in a blizzard.
Suddenly she knew what blizzard Reason had meant. Of course! She had been seven years old, and the power had been off almost all night. Christmas morning had revealed the neighborhood buried in snow. She had played in it that day until she was exhausted. It had been a merry Christmas because the electricity was off only until the power company fixed it, just like always. But this was a different night, a different year. The power would not come back on at Dread House. Tomorrow morning would be cold and hopeless, and so would be every morning for the rest of her life.
She had stopped moving, with a piece of tape stuck on her finger and her other hand holding a fold of giftwrap in place. She saw Love and Faithfulness exchange glances.
“So are you going to the Navy Ball?” Faithfulness asked her. “It’s decided now that it will be tomorrow evening. We heard your family got an invitation.”
Wittily had completely forgotten that a ball was to take place. “No, we can’t go. We even sent the clothes back that they tried to deliver.”
“I’m sorry, but I guess that’s how your parents felt about it. But maybe they could change their minds. I wonder, is there no way you could go even yet? I’m sure the clothes could still be sent.”
“No, there is no way!” Wittily snapped. She looked back and forth between them in half-sick anger. “Some people have time to think about Christmas. We’re just trying to survive.”
Reason must have heard her last words, for the little woman was standing in the doorway.
“The Ambassador says you can come up for a few minutes, Wittily.”
She muttered an apology and then followed Reason up and up the many stairs of Grace House. As they drew near to Grace’s rooms, Gentleness appeared, also still dressed, walking toward them in the hallway and whistling a carol. He stopped when he saw Wittily.
“Well, hey, what are you doing here so late? I mean, it’s good to see you.”
After Wittily had explained that she had come to see Grace about a private matter, Reason took the opportunity to leave them, saying that she still needed to prepare a few things for the following morning. This was, then, the time for Wittily to apologize for the things she had said to Gentleness on the night of his arrest. But she was in too high pitched an emotional state: the right words wouldn’t come.
“About what I said to you outside my house,” she faltered, “I want you to know that, whatever I said under pressure, I don’t hate you. I was just trying to protect myself and my family, so I yelled at you.”
Gentleness looked at her warily, which was surprising. He never looked at anyone warily, not even the plainclothesmen on that night.
“Right, OK. I understand,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” she said curtly. “You can’t.”
“You mean because I’m not smart enough?”
Again that unnerving wariness. He looked as if he were worried, upset; and he was never either of those. What was there about her that could be such a trial to this boy who had weathered even prison with an unfettered spirit?
“Smart? What has that got to do with it?” She moved closer to the door to Grace’s rooms. “Look, I know I’m muffing it, but I’m trying to let you know that I’m sorry.” She knocked on Grace’s door. “But I’ve got to talk to the Ambassador right away now because I’m keeping him up late as it is.”
He said nothing but waved his hand to her slightly and went his way. A moment later the old man was letting her in.
“So you’ve brought me a petition?”
Grace wasn’t dressed for bed, but neither was he very friendly in his manner. As they sat across from each other in armchairs, near a hearth decorated with evergreen boughs, she wondered why he seemed to have changed since the council earlier in the evening.
“A petition?” she echoed. “I don’t know, I guess that’s what you’d call it. You see, we’re desperate at my house. The City just shut off our utilities.”
“Wittily, you should have come to me sooner. It’s hardly a compliment to our King when you petition only as a last resort.”
“I know, sir, and don’t think I haven’t thought of that.”
“I suppose I owe this to the Heavenite reputation for taking in strays and derelicts.”
Wittily’s eyes grew wide. She had never heard Grace talk like this. Where was his usual charm and politeness?
“I guess so,” she said humbly.
“And why haven’t your parents come themselves?”
“They were afraid to be seen coming to you. They even told me to go to the back door, and I did, but I couldn’t find a way in, so I came around to the front.”
“So, not to bandy words, your family is ashamed of associating with me?”
She saw no way forward but the truth. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” When he did not reply, she added. “If you want me to leave now, I will.”
“No, get on with it. State your petition.”
“State it? Yes, OK. Uh, we need financial help, lots of it, badly. And right away we need a generator or something to restore heat to the house. Also, protection, because Dad says Mr. Power might do anything if he finds out we’re asking you for help. But wait, I’m forgetting Dad wanted to emphasize that any help we get has to be a close secret. Can we count on your confidentiality?”
“You cannot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m really blowing this, aren’t I? I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Go home now,” he said, “and I’ll take it under consideration. It’s just possible that our King might confiscate your house and property, which would make possible the disentangling of your many problems. Your family would of course remain on the premises as servants of the Crown. Do you have any objection to that?”
Wittily had seen enough of life at Grace House to feel that becoming a servant to this Heavenite King was far from a bad deal. She said she had no objection, that is, except for the concern about keeping it secret.
“But as I said, that’s out of the question. Do you think you can serve both Mammon and our King? No, this half-hearted attitude of yours must be improved on.” He opened a drawer in a nearby table and withdrew a flat cardboard box. “I want you to take this with you and open it when you get home. You will have to decide what to do with it. You, Wittily, not your parents.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go then. I hope to see you tomorrow morning.”
This last was the only really encouraging thing he had spoken to her. She put on her coat, found her way out of the house, and returned through the crumbs of falling snow to the gloom of Dread House. It was nearly midnight when she sat down with her parents in their living room, now ill lit by a battery powered lantern, and told them of her interview. She had to admit that it seemed to have been unsuccessful.
“What about the box he gave you there, Witty?” her father asked. “What’s that?”
“Oh, yes.” She placed it on her lap and opened it. “It’s just a chair throw or something.” She lifted it and began to shake it out. “Oh, no it’s…”
As she hastily refolded it, and pressed it back into the box, her parents made exclamations as if she had uncovered a nest of scorpions, for it was a very dangerous Heavenite flag. Sheer suicide. The banner with its golden sun in the center and the twelve silver stars in a crescent beneath had not flown over the City for some six thousand years. It was under the curse, and the penalty for possessing it was death.
“Hide it,” Conformity said, and quickly correcting himself, “burn it!”
“I couldn’t find matches when I wanted to light some candles!” said Chamelea.
“Then the stove…no, no, of course the gas is off.”
Both were on their feet by this time, waving their arms, and practically shouting at each other. Wittily, who was scarcely less alarmed than they, got up and looked out the window.
“Leasing House!” she said. “I’ll take it over there and hold it to the wall.”
Her parents looked to where she pointed. Since the night of the shelling, the Hadean fires had never ceased to run up and down the exterior of that house. At night they could easily be seen, and smelled. Her parents pushed her to go, helping her on with her coat and opening the door for her. So in a moment she was out in the bitter cold again, where the snow had now accumulated in a wafer-thin carpet. She at once had to ask herself how she would disguise her footprints as she approached Leasing House. Of course, she couldn’t. It was just another nightmare detail, quickly succeeded by another yet, as, crossing the street, she saw someone standing in the far tree row. The only thing to do was to burn the flag as quickly as possible, but not if she would be seen.
He met her on the sidewalk. It was Gentleness.
“What have you got there, Wittily?”
“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” she demanded. “Are you crazy? Did you follow me?”
“Yeah, I followed you. Reason said your family seemed to be in trouble, so I thought you might need some help. What’s in the box?”
“Nothing. Get away from me. No, stop it!”
He had taken the box from her before she knew what he was doing.
“Gentleness, if you care anything for me, then….” Something occurred to her and she changed her tone. “Yes, keep it. Take it back to old Grace and tell him we don’t want it. No, don’t open it!”
But he not only opened it, he shook out the flag full length.
“Stop it!” She tried to get it back from him so as to hide it, but he swung it teasingly out of her reach, displaying it to anyone on the street who happened to be looking out a window.
“It’s only a flag, Wittily. Where I come from, there are thousands of them like this one. If Grace gave it to you, it’s so you could fly it over your house.”
“Right, and then I’d be dead. Is that what you want?”
“Girl, I’ve been dead. It’s not as bad as you think.”
This made her stop trying to snatch the flag back. She stood still, breathing hard, and considered. Even if she could get the flag back and burn it, her family was doomed. Why deny it?
“Sure,” she said, half laughing and half crying. “Life isn’t everything. If you can get by with no vital signs, why can’t I?”
“Come on, let’s go talk to your parents.”
“But Grace said I’d have to decide by myself what to do with the flag.”
“Well, let’s go fly it then. There’s your flagpole.” He pointed to it outside a second floor window.
“Give it back to me!”
When he at last relented and handed it to her, she scooped up the box, which he had dropped, and hastily folded up the flag and put it inside. Then she stood looking at the closed lid. The people who loved this flag had put her statue over their house; they had been very kind to her; and although she had never met their King, she felt as if she liked him much better than Mr. Power. They served this King of theirs and never seemed to suffer for it. Why couldn’t she? Actually, she wanted to fly this flag even if she did suffer for it.
Gentleness questioned her with a look.
“Hey, I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb,” she said.
When they entered Dread House, they found that Mr. and Mrs. Dread had left the living room. That was good, Wittily thought, because it meant they could do what they intended with no explanation. Reaching the second floor, they could hear Conformity and Chamelea in Grovel’s room. The boy appeared to have waked from the cold, and they were comforting him. Wittily opened the window at the end of the hall, and with Gentleness’ help attached the flag to the pole, which slanted upward from the house wall. When she pulled the line, the flag ascended to the end of the pole and flapped in the wind. Gentleness closed the window, and they stood side by side for a few minutes, just looking at the flag. Something felt different to her, as if the Heavenite King had perhaps accepted the Dreads’ pathetic petition, as if He had entered Dread House as their Lord and protector.
When a moment later the lights came on, Wittily cried out in surprise and almost fear and Gentleness laughed in exultation. She noticed that, though no one had changed the bulbs, they glowed with a softer, more golden color than before. A thumping sound coming from the ducts indicated that the furnace also was coming on.
Conformity and Chamelea came out of Grovel’s bedroom looking confused. “The City authorities must have just meant to scare us,” Conformity said uncertainly. “They’re giving us another chance.” He stiffened as he saw Gentleness. “Young man, you’ll have to leave here. Wittily, what have you been doing? Is it burned?”
“No, pop. We just flew it from the house. I think that’s why the utilities are back on.”
“This is no time for your crazy sense of humor,” Chamelea said. “Just answer your father seriously.”
“I am serious. You can see it out the window. Let’s go downstairs and call the Heavenly Embassy. I’ll bet they’ll tell us they got us our power back.”
The younger children, attracted by the lights and noise, joined them downstairs in the living room, where Wittily placed the call on the revived telephone.
“That’s right,” the young woman from the Embassy replied. “You are now being supplied free utilities
and phone service by Heavenite Power. The request came in from Ambassador Grace just a few minutes ago.”
“But how did you do it so fast? And the phone and everything all at once?”
“We’re good,” she replied cheerily. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Thank you, we’re fine.”
“Then Merry Christmas.”
Wittily hung up and explained to her family. While her parents were still questioning and doubting, the phone rang and she answered to find Grace on the line. She could hear in his tone that he was his usual self again.
“Merry Christmas to you and your family. I hope everything is turned back on? Yes? Why, you’re very welcome, Wittily. I want you to tell your parents that I’ll be around in the morning with a check that will more than cover your family’s debts, compliments of the Embassy. Conformity will of course want to dissolve the partnership with Mammon Arts. I’ll also bring some presents for the children.”
Wittily fumbled her unbelieving thanks. “And of course we’ll pay you back,” she added.
“Eternity would not be long enough for that,” Grace replied, “especially when you consider how much more I mean to do for you. It’s a gift, not a loan. You must not even try to pay it back, no more than a child should try to repay the value of Christmas presents.”
She still didn’t believe him but thanked him again.
“You did a fine thing flying that flag,” he said. “As soon as I saw it, I called Heavenite Power and asked them to restore things for you. Then I phoned the City authorities and instructed them to keep their distance from Dread House or suffer the consequences in the form of Heavenite military intervention. Rest assured, they won’t bother a shingle on your roof. Let me see, what else do I need to tell you? Lieutenant Justice will come by today and leave you the party clothing you declined before. Tell your family that the time of the ball was recently determined as this evening. Oh, and most important, you are no longer to say you live in Dread House but in Hope House. I’ll have a new name plate put on your front door. Hmm, tell that rapscallion Gentleness that I suppose his parents will allow him a little more time over there. I believe that’s all. Merry Christmas to you, Miss Wittily Hope and to your parents Mr. & Mrs. Hope.”
After Wittily had hung up and relayed all this to her parents, their attitude toward Gentleness was transformed. Conformity and Chamelea plied him with coffee and Christmas treats and encouraged him to stay up talking with Wittily while they sent the children back to their beds and withdrew themselves to Conformity’s study. And though Gentleness did not stay long, when Wittily went in to see them afterward, she found they had fallen peacefully asleep in their chairs.