“You can appreciate how Drew and I felt when we first saw it,” Gabe said. “Unlock your trunk so I can take your luggage in.”
“Don’t rush me, I’m still trying to take all this in.” Calvin turned slowly around, viewing the entire property.
“You’ll have all the time in the world to explore. Let’s get you inside.” Gabe took the keys from Calvin and opened the trunk. Left to himself Calvin would have leaned against the car for another half hour considering the house and grounds and expecting Gabe to stay with him.
“Come on, Calvin. Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, it was quite instructive and I’m glad I made it. I must admit, however, I’ve had enough driving for a while.” He carried a heavy black bag and followed Gabe into the house. Gabe was amused and pleased at Calvin’s reaction to his great-grandfather’s house and furnishings. He treated it like a museum. In fact, the respect he showed it made Gabe wonder if he had been remiss in his attitude. Of course, that was one of the differences between him and Calvin. Calvin was a profound observer who took his time about everything. He could not be rushed, a trait which Gabe and Webster, the other man in the group of three longtime friends, sometimes found inconvenient and downright annoying.
Yet in the end, Gabe had always found Calvin’s judgments to be astute and correct. Drew came rushing in and submitted to a hug from his “Uncle Calvin” whom he’d known all his life, and who had promised that when he was old enough to drive, he could take the Corvette out for a short spin. With his uncle in the passenger seat, of course.
“What d’ya think of our place? I’ll bet you never thought it’d look like this.” Drew also had learned to respect Uncle Calvin’s opinion.
“It’s a wonderful property, Drew. Your great-grandfather was a true craftsman with an artistic bent. All the work in this house that I’ve seen so far shows he also had patience. That’s a great quality. How’re you doing in your schoolwork? You being patient and working hard?” Calvin had a penetrating gaze and Gabe watched Drew fidget under it.
“Gabe can tell you my grades are much better than they were at home. Chemistry is hard but a friend of ours who used to teach it is going to give me some tutoring.” Drew was just a bit defensive.
“That’s true. He’s taking school seriously and doing his assignments every evening. He has a garden also. Why don’t you show it to Calvin, Drew.”
While they were outside, Gabe made a pan of corn bread, knowing Calvin had a fondness for it. Conversation at the dinner table was lively, covering the sights and sounds of travel from New York City to Grayson and the early experiences of Gabe and Drew in the town.
“People are so friendly,” Drew said. “We got here on a Saturday, went to church the next day and I met this guy, Jeff, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”
“That could happen to you because you’re a friendly person yourself. Not everyone is,” Calvin said as he buttered a large piece of corn bread.
Drew, eager to prove his point, continued to give examples of how persons in the area had gone out of their way, as he saw it, to make him and his brother welcome. Calvin listened but didn’t seem convinced. Gabe enjoyed the argument, understanding that Calvin was not only teaching Drew how to debate a point of view, he was also reflecting something of his personal experience, for he did not make friends easily. In New York’s social life, one could have many acquaintances, but friends were hard to find.
He’d once told Gabe that Gabe was one of the two friends in his life. Gabe had cherished that confidence and resolved to never fail in loyalty to Calvin. At thirty-seven, Calvin was only two years Gabe’s senior, but looked older. His skin had some red in it, his eyes were gray, his head was shaved and he wore a neat mustache. When they’d first met, Calvin was two grades ahead of Gabe, but they lived in the same neighborhood in Harlem. He’d helped his uncle in a clothing store and Gabe had worked there on weekends for a while. At City College they continued to hang out together.
Gabe and Webster were the ones who met people effortlessly. They called Calvin their silent partner. He genuinely liked people but his natural reserve and habit of observing rather than talking had led him into writing what he saw and felt. In college he’d produced a column for the school publication. After college he’d tried his hand at screenplays and then novels. Gabe and Webster had given him a rousing celebration when his first novel, What’s Next After Getting There, had been published two years ago. The revised version of his second novel had just been sent out. Coming to Grayson would give him a breather, he’d told Gabe, while he waited to hear if he had to do anything else to please his editor before a publishing date was set.
“Aren’t you going to say anything about our friends?” Drew appealed to Gabe.
“I thought you were doing pretty good by yourself. Since seeing is believing, why don’t you and I have our friends over to meet Calvin. Then he can judge for himself.”
Calvin immediately protested. “You don’t need to go to any trouble for me. I’ll accept that the two of you have made friends in Grayson.”
“Sorry, Uncle Calvin, you’re in for it now,” Drew said gleefully.
“Think of it as giving you new material for a novel. After all, you’ve never been to the South before to experience firsthand the details of the culture,” Gabe added.
“You’re going to be here for a while, aren’t you, Uncle Calvin, so you’d have to know people like Jeff, and the Gray family and Mr. Sam who lives across the street anyway.”
“Okay, Drew. I give in. When are your friends coming over?” Calvin asked. He and Drew both looked at Gabe.
“Today is Friday, so how about a week from tomorrow?” He studied his brother across the table. Some of the softness had gone from his face and it occurred to Gabe that Drew rarely whined anymore. His younger brother’s experience here had been good. There was no denying it. He’d been surprised and touched by Drew’s strong defense of their Grayson friends. If he felt that way, would he be willing to return home when their time here came to a close? He stored the issue in the back of his mind to think about later.
After a late and leisurely breakfast the next day, Drew went off to Jeff’s, and Gabe drove Calvin around the Swinton-Grayson area, pointing out the community center, the church, the high school and other places of interest. Calvin took it all in and when they returned home he said, “You’ve shown me this part of South Carolina that nurtured your great-grandfather. You’ve referred to his will but can you tell me more so I can understand him and how it uprooted your life so profoundly?”
“The place to tell you is sitting on his bench.” Gabe unlocked the gate that led to the field where the bench stood, explaining to Calvin why he found the bench a special place for contemplation. He held nothing back as he related everything from Moultrie’s initial visit to him in New York, to finding the second scroll with the odd lines. In fact, it was a relief to share it all with another adult he could trust and whose intelligence he respected. He spoke freely of his times of frustration and times of joy when he’d uncovered a clue.
He couldn’t have asked for a better audience. Calvin’s entire attention was focused on the story, his deep gray eyes reflecting feelings of surprise, consideration, apprehension, query and relief. “Your great-grandfather was an extraordinary man whom I wish I could have known,” Calvin mused.
“I’ve said that more than once since I’ve been here.” Gabe was pleased that Calvin had already formed that opinion.
“He fashioned this whole thing as if it were something out of mythology,” Calvin said thoughtfully. There was a gleam in his eye as he scrutinized his friend. “Will you win or lose, O Mighty Hero?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t see myself as a Hercules,” Gabe chuckled.
“I’ll lay it out for you, because the more I think of it, the more it fits. You were living in your ordinary world when the attorney came to see you. Why did he come?” Calvin asked.
“T
o tell me about the will.”
“Right. That was your call to adventure,” Calvin explained.
“I didn’t see it that way. Frankly, I thought the man was pulling a scam at first.”
“So you were reluctant to see it as a call and accept it?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t you?”
“This isn’t about me, Gabe. The attorney encouraged you and persuaded you that this was genuine. Right?”
“I guess you could put it that way. After I looked at all the pros and cons, I thought I could take a few months and give it a try.”
“Which is to say you crossed the threshold and entered the special world.”
“Grayson is the special world?” Gabe asked unbelievingly.
“According to mythology, it’s wherever the hero takes on the tasks and the goal the adventure calls for.”
“You’re putting me on, aren’t you?” He was serious as he met Calvin’s gaze.
“Would I do that to you?” Calvin’s eyes crinkled.
“Yeah, you would if you thought I’d swallow it.”
“Okay. I just thought you’d be interested to see how what’s happening to you has a number of mythic elements.” Calvin lapsed into silence. “It’s so quiet and peaceful here,” he said after a few moments.
It would be just like his great-grandfather to have done what Calvin was talking about, Gabe thought. He’d been a scholar with a fine mind and maybe when he designed his will he hadn’t been able to resist making it a complex game instead of a straightforward transfer of property to his heir. Could this be why he used the phrase treasured destiny? Looking at it in this light made it more believable as a goal.
Calvin was relaxed with his eyes closed but he didn’t fool Gabe. He’d seen that strategy before. It was one way to get the other person curious enough to ask a question that would resume the point Calvin had been making. Gabe didn’t mind falling in with the strategy this time.
“Then what happens?” he asked.
Calvin opened his eyes. “The hero encounters allies and enemies as he goes through his tests, working up to the greatest ordeal, at the end of which he wins his reward.”
“Good for me,” Gabe said. “That doesn’t sound too bad except I don’t see any allies or enemies in Grayson. Unless Drew is an ally.”
“But that isn’t all,” Calvin said smoothly.
“How can there be any more? He’s got the reward, hasn’t he?” Gabe was puzzled. This was getting to be too much.
“Yes, but he’s pursued on the way back to the ordinary world and has a transforming experience.”
“Tell me that’s the end,” Gabe pleaded with a smile.
“Almost. The end is that the hero returns with his reward or treasure and it is a benefit to the ordinary world.”
“I can see how some of what you describe could possibly relate to carrying out the specifics of the will, such as having to find clues that will lead to whatever Great-Grandfather had in mind. But what if I don’t find them all? I only have the two scrolls and the key.”
“Do you seriously think that you won’t find them all?” Calvin looked at Gabe unsmilingly.
“I haven’t asked myself that question. It just seems very slow and frustrating, but I guess I’m confident about finding them.”
“That’s the hero speaking.”
“What’s the transformation about at the end?”
“As the hero deals with both enemies and allies in his quest, he begins to change. The ordeal brings on another one, but it’s when he has to reenter the ordinary world with his treasure that the greatest change takes place because of all he’s gone through and learned. He isn’t the same person that he was before he began the adventure. Surely you can see that?”
Gabe nodded. Then he looked at his watch. “Time to start dinner.”
On the way back to the house he said, “You’ve certainly put this little trip of mine to Grayson in a different perspective. I don’t buy the whole premise but it is interesting to think about. I know I’m not a mythic hero. I’m just your usual guy. And there’s another thing about your story that doesn’t fit,” he said as he opened the kitchen door for Calvin.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t have any enemies.”
“The adventure isn’t over yet,” Calvin said smugly.
Chapter 23
Ms. Marie Frye from the Southern Tree Management Service rang the bell precisely at three o’clock. She was a trim, wiry woman in her forties with thick brown hair under a bright yellow helmet. Her denim pants were tucked into brown boots and her light jacket had STMS embroidered over the picture of a tall tree.
Gabe invited her in and introduced Drew and Calvin, who were waiting in the living room. Ms. Frye opened a brown folder with the same logo on its cover as the one on her jacket.
“Mr. Bell first came to us twenty-two years ago because he wanted to sell some of his timber. He is listed as one of our private nonindustrial landowners.”
She looked up from the folder. “I’m not sure how much you know about the timber industry, but people like Mr. Bell hold almost sixty percent of private forestland in the United States, some l.4 million acres.”
“You can safely assume that we know nothing about timber, Ms. Frye,” Gabe said, “but we’re willing to learn.”
“In that case let’s go right to the forest.” She closed the folder and stood. “I can explain as we walk and you can ask questions about what you see.”
As they went outside she asked Gabe, “Have you been in the forest, Mr. Bell?” He unlocked the gate as he thought about her question.
“Actually, I haven’t. I’ve sat on the bench and looked at it but that’s all.” It hadn’t held the appeal for him that the bench and field had from the first day. He noticed that she always described it as a forest while for him it had just been trees.
“What kind of trees are these?” Drew asked, walking beside Gabe.
“Mostly pine. Our company doesn’t just purchase trees. After a stand has been harvested, as with Mr. Bell’s twenty-two years ago, we work with the owner in a sustainable-forestry plan.”
“To keep the trees healthy?” Gabe asked.
“That’s a part of it, Mr. Bell.”
“Please call me Gabe. I think of my great-grandfather as Mr. Bell.”
The four of them were now walking abreast. The trees were not as thickly packed as they’d seemed from the bench and there were all kinds of grasses and unfamiliar plants on what Ms. Frye was calling the forest floor.
“I hear about forest fires,” Gabe said. “Do you know if this one has ever burned?”
“Let me show you.” She led them to a group of trees that had an accumulation of fallen branches, pine needles and two dead trees around them. “When this builds up over the years, it makes the forest susceptible to fire. This is why controlled burning is a part of the sustainable-forestry plan I mentioned earlier.”
“So, did your company have a fire here?” Drew asked.
“According to our records there was one some years ago. It lessens the danger of a serious fire and keeps down disease. Also it thins out undesirable trees so new ones can be planted.” They had been walking and learning about forestry for nearly an hour when Ms. Frye stopped.
“I hope I haven’t worn you out.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “You probably didn’t expect to take such a long hike. This isn’t even the end of Mr. Bell’s forest, but I have a surprise for you.” How could there be a surprise in the middle of all these trees? She’d already pointed out some of the occupants of the forest, like deer, rabbits and snakes. A large pond had been the biggest surprise to Gabe. He’d no idea the trees he’d looked at from the bench comprised what Ms. Frye called a living forest. Glancing at Drew, he saw the same dazed look on his face. Calvin, of course, wore his usual calm philosophical expression.
Ms. Frye veered left and led them for a few minutes to a section of denser growth than they had seen before. They followed silently as
she pushed her way through it. Gabe began to have an eerie feeling. Suddenly they stepped into a clearing. In the middle of it was an ancient square building made of rough wooden planks.
“What is it?” Drew asked after a moment.
“A praise house,” Calvin said quietly, “built by slaves as their own place of worship.”
“That’s what Mr. Bell told the first forester who walked through here with him. It’s very old. I’m a born Southerner and I’ve heard about praise houses, but this is the first one I’ve ever seen,” Ms. Frye said reverently.
Gabe was beyond speech. Somewhere in Africa, greedy men had rounded up people and caused them to be brought in chains to South Carolina where they were sold as slaves to people who owned the very land on which he and Drew were standing. Among them were black men whose African names he didn’t know, but who had started his family line. They had endured a life of untold hardship as slaves, but out of that had come the determination to praise the Creator in their own way, in a place built by their own hands, from whatever materials they could find. The sight of the building, its purpose and the aura that surrounded it made such an impact on him that all he could do was try to take in its physical details. It was about the size of the garage, had square windows on its sides and a door with a single step. He could see places where Great-Grandfather had repaired and strengthened it while retaining its integrity as a venerable place of worship. Ms. Frye was saying it was a pity they couldn’t go inside, but Mr. Bell had put a secure lock on the door to protect it from vandals. Gabe was certain that particular key was in Moultrie’s possession and that the attorney would send it to him now.
On the way back to the house Gabe found his voice and asked how she knew where the praise house stood.
“One of our primary purposes is to protect special and unique places in the forests we manage, especially if they have historical value. In the case of this praise house it’s well documented in the early 1800s and its precise location is on our map.” When they got to her car and thanked her for the tour, she handed Gabe several brochures.
Sacred Ground Page 17