The Governor’s Sons

Home > Other > The Governor’s Sons > Page 18
The Governor’s Sons Page 18

by McKenzie, Maria


  “I—uh—told you a lie.” Otis grinned sheepishly. I really didn’t want to show you anything today. I just wanted to talk to you. But don’t worry.” He laughed loudly. “We’ll do something fun a little later. Thought maybe we could ride out to the country, build us a bomb and explode it!”

  Gavin smiled. “Cool.”

  “Yeah, I thought that’d be fun,” Otis said.

  “And I’ll pack us a picnic,” Libby added. “Now, Otis,” she looked at him sharply, “let’s not waste any more time.”

  “Right—honey.” Otis hesitated. The air conditioner hummed noisily in the silence. “Well—I uh—asked you to come here because—we want to tell you some more about—the Cause and why our work in it’s so important.”

  Libby sat primly next to Otis with hands folded and ankles crossed. “Gavin, you’re very bright, and we need more smart people like you and your uncle to help us.” She gazed sweetly at Otis and patted his knee. “Now, honey, you go on. Tell Gavin more.”

  Gavin noticed a slight forcefulness in her tone.

  “Uh—okay.” Otis cleared his throat. “Libby and I think it’s time to expose you to the—um—bigger picture. There’s--things out there--that all we white Christians need to know. Libby’s sent you some stuff, but what we want to tell you today—just might blow your mind.”

  It was around Gavin’s Christmas break that Libby had slipped him some pamphlets. She’d continued to mail him more after he’d returned to Clemson. Reading wasn’t something Gavin enjoyed, but he’d managed to struggle through what she’d sent. Some of the information seemed pretty whacky at first. But the more he’d read, the more some of it seemed to make sense.

  “I read all those pamphlets and I think I understand what’s—”

  “Gavin,” Libby interrupted, “those pamphlets only touch the surface of how serious things really are.”

  “So—what are you getting at?”

  “Well, you already know that the federal government’s stealing away our individual freedoms. Negroes are infiltrating our schools, and before you know it, they’ll be living in our neighborhoods. What you don’t know is that there are a lot of other sinister plots going on with our government. I read all about it in J. Edgar Hoover’s Masters of Deceit. He says an international Communist conspiracy’s penetrated the highest levels—especially the State Department—and it’s undermining us from the inside.”

  Gavin looked at her strangely. What she’d just said was weird, but he was willing to keep listening.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Libby said. “It sounds unreal. I have a copy of the Hoover book for you. I also think it’s time to start giving you another publication. It’s called The Thunderbolt.”

  “What’s in it?”

  Libby leaned toward him. “The truth.” Her collarbones protruded sharply under her skin. “And you won’t read about it anywhere else. It’s important to understand what’s really going on—so we can protect ourselves.

  “Now, aside from the Communist conspiracy,” Libby continued, “there’s an international Jewish one, too. But both conspiracies are really one in the same. I’ll explain that in a minute. Now listen carefully, Gavin,” she instructed like a schoolteacher. “The Jews want to take over the world, and their conspirators are at work on all sorts of diabolical plans that threaten to doom our country. They especially want to weaken white America by mongrelizing the races. And one way that’s being done is through the Civil Rights Movement.”

  “See,” Otis said, “there’s more to all of this than meets the eye, and the whole future of the United States is at risk. The very survival of the Christian white race depends on people willing to do everything possible to outwit those folks against us.”

  “Your uncle’s right,” Libby said. “There are lots of ignorant rednecks out there that hate Jews and Negroes. They don’t know the real reasons why they should, but that’s okay—they can be used for the good of the Cause. We need all the manpower we can get, because the Jews want to take away more of our freedoms and even close our churches.”

  Libby’s steel gray eyes bore into Gavin’s. “What the Jews really want is world domination. That’s what this is all about.” Lines angrily creased her forehead, and her words pulled down the corners of her mouth. “They already own all the media—TV, radio stations, newspapers. Their banks dictate what happens worldwide—and they even finance revolutions. Look at the Bolshevik Revolution. Karl Marx was a Jew--so that proves Communism is a Jewish plot—and one of the very ways they can dominate the world.”

  “We gotta be on our guard, Gavin,” Otis said cautiously. “If they can bring about the mixing of the races here in the U.S., that’s gonna lower our intelligence and make us an easy target to take over.”

  “Just remember, Gavin,” Libby said, “we hate the blacks for breaking into our world, but we hate the Jews even more, because they’re responsible for every bad thing that’s going on now.” Libby’s eyes narrowed. “The Civil Rights Movement is filled with Communists and Communist sympathizers, and Negro Civil Rights leaders are nothing but a bunch of red pawns and puppets in the Jew’s evil game plan.”

  A buzzer sounded just as Libby finished. “Oh.” She smiled. “My cookies are done. I made your favorite, Gavin, oatmeal raisin.” Gavin was a little taken aback by her sudden change of mood. “If ya’ll will excuse me, I’ll bring some out, hot and fresh from the oven. Would you like some milk, Gavin?”

  “Uh--sure.”

  After Libby disappeared into the kitchen, Otis glanced at Gavin. “What do you think?”

  Gavin stretched his long legs. “It’s kinda scary—but—I guess it could make sense.”

  “Yeah.” Otis paused. “So, you—uh—interested in-- workin’—for the Cause?”

  Chapter 19

  “Gavin.” Charlene knocked on her son’s bedroom door. “May I come in?” After Gavin said she could, Charlene walked in dressed for the company that would be arriving soon. Her dress was an emerald green silk, accessorized with a single strand of pearls and she wore ivory pumps.

  Gavin lay comfortably on the bed propped up on pillows. He was dressed and appeared to be in the midst of reading.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were ready for Aunt Mikki and Uncle Heath.” Charlene sat at the foot of his four poster bed. “You’ve been holed up in here all afternoon. I thought you might be asleep.”

  “No,” he held up a book, “just reading.”

  “Oh, Mr. Lincoln and the Negroes. I read that. It’s a good book.” Charlene hesitated. “You’re turning into quite the reader lately.” Gavin didn’t respond.

  His summer lifeguard job at the country club wouldn’t start until next week. But since Gavin had been home from school with lots of free time, Charlene had noticed that if he wasn’t out with friends, he’d either be with Otis, or shut in his room reading. Reading! She still couldn’t quite fathom that. He hated to read, but if something held his interest, he’d manage to muddle through.

  “So—you’re doing a lot of political reading?” Charlene glanced at his nightstand and saw a copy of Lincoln, the Unknown. You think maybe—one day—you might want to pursue politics, like your father?”

  “I dunno,” Gavin replied vaguely.

  Charlene’s eyes wandered around the room. Pinups of Brigitte Bardot and Ann-Margret decorated his walls along with sports pendants and NASCAR posters. His bookshelf was cluttered with several trophies he’d won in junior high and high school for track and field, swimming and baseball. Framed pictures of him winning and showing off his awards were on those shelves, too. And Ash was hardly in any of them. She and the girls were there—and so was Otis.

  Charlene wished she could figure out what was going on in Gavin’s mind. He’d always been carefree and easygoing for the most part, but over the past few months he’d changed. Charlene began to notice a difference in him around spring break. He’d seemed subdued then. Now he was almost brooding most of the time.

  Charlene chan
ged the subject. “You met up pretty early with Uncle Otis this morning. What did you do?”

  “Went fishing.”

  “Oh,” Charlene smiled. “Did you catch anything?”

  “No. It wasn’t a good day for it.”

  “Did Libby join you?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlene nodded silently. “She seems a little strange to me, but Otis sure is crazy about her. You know, Gavin, my brother’s not the best parental role model.” Charlene laughed. “He doesn’t even have kids. But he’s got a heart of gold. Honey—Otis can’t—take the place of your dad, and—”

  “Who says I want him to?”

  “Your father’s going into his fifth year as governor. It’s a demanding job. I wish he… honey, I know your father can’t spend the time with you that Otis does, but—”

  “But when he does,” Gavin slammed his book shut, “all he ever does is criticize me! He claims I’m not living up to his expectations—the expectations of being a Kroth.”

  “Gavin, no matter what he says, your father loves you, and he’s proud of you!”

  “Then why doesn’t he ever say it?”

  Charlene had no answer to that, but she’d talk to Ash and make sure he’d start. “Believe me Gavin, he does.”

  Gavin put the book down. His gaze wandered to the window near his bed for a moment. When his eyes met Charlene’s, she saw tears in them. “Sometimes—I don’t think he wants me for a son.”

  Charlene couldn’t speak as tears filled her own eyes. “Gavin.” She moved from the foot of the bed and sat next to him. Gently squeezing his arm she said, “That’s not true.”

  “When I have those thoughts,” Gavin said softly, “I wish I’d never been born.”

  “Gavin,” Charlene hugged him tightly. “Don’t ever say that. We love you. You know that. We love you,” she repeated, almost in a whisper, then looked into his eyes. “Your father would die for you. And it would break his heart to hear what you just said. Now,” Charlene forced a smile, “no more talk about that. Let’s us just put it behind us, okay?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Gavin said. “Okay.”

  Charlene held Gavin’s hand. “Every child is a blessing, honey.”

  Gavin nodded, but didn’t respond immediately. “Why don’t Aunt Mikki and Uncle Heath have any kids?”

  “Well…” Charlene had to think about this for a few seconds to get the facts straight. “When Mikki was in that internment camp—she was married to a Japanese man, but he died.”

  “Was he shot for being a Jap—a Japanese spy?”

  “No Gavin. It was nothing as dramatic as that. He was a Japanese American, and as loyal as most of those people locked up in those dreadful camps for no reason. He was an architect helping to build a school on the camp grounds when he fell off a ladder and injured his head. That’s what killed him.

  “Your Aunt Mikki was pregnant at the time, and when she delivered, the baby was stillborn. Then Mikki almost died because of an infection. Of course, she survived—but she couldn’t have any more children.” Charlene hesitated. “That’s devastating for a woman. And it’s especially sad for Mikki-- since she’s an obstetrician. I can’t imagine delivering babies everyday and knowing…” Charlene sighed. “Well, I suppose Mikki’s a lot tougher than I am.”

  She looked at Gavin. He sat quietly with his head down. “I’m gonna see what your sisters are up to. I think they’re in the drawing room.” She picked up his chin. “Why don’t you join us, too?”

  “I will in a little while,” Gavin said. “I just wanna finish up the chapter I’m reading. I’ve only got a few more pages.”

  Charlene stood from the bed, thinking that might take him an hour. “Alright, honey.” She smiled. “We’ll see you when you’re finished.”

  ****

  Gavin had only pretended to read Mr. Lincoln and the Negroes, and as soon as Charlene was gone, he pulled out his copy of The Thunderbolt. He’d hidden it in his nightstand when she’d knocked. Gavin had almost completed an article about the detriment of race mixing and now picked up where he left off.

  As he struggled through the last paragraph, he thought about Aunt Mikki and Uncle Heath. Maybe that story about an infection causing her not to have kids was a lie. They were both doctors. They knew that if they had children, their offspring would be considered mongrels. They knew the truth. In order to stay strong, the races needed to remain pure. They’d married in spite of this, but had no children to prevent the weakening of either race.

  A chill skidded up Gavin’s spine. If integration succeeded, and there was love between black and white, that would be the beginning of the end for white America!

  ****

  Leigh Ann threw her copy of McCall’s Magazine on the coffee table. After glancing at her gold Bulova wristwatch, she said to JoBeth, “It shouldn’t be too much longer until they get here.”

  They sat in the Governor’s private drawing room. The closest airport to Clarkstown was an hour away, over the state line in Monaco, Georgia. Ash had sent a car to pick up Heath and Mikki upon their arrival from San Francisco.

  Leigh Ann strode to one of the tall windows. Her long hair, stiffly sprayed in an upward flip at her shoulders, remained perfectly still as she crossed the large Oriental carpet.

  From the second floor of the Governor’s Mansion, Leigh Ann could see its expansive front lawn. The white brick structure, built in 1856, resembled a French villa. Aunt Mikki was still in awe of its grandeur. The magnificent front portico, lined with eight columns rising two stories, and the stone balustrade and terrace, created an entrance way worthy of royalty.

  The mansion, set on the east lawn of the State Capitol grounds, was situated on a bluff high above the Coleridge River. The State House sat at the opposite end of the State Capitol campus, directly across from the mansion, a good 15 minute walk away.

  With one knee on the window seat and her hands on the sill, Leigh Ann could see the oak tree lined drive and walkway, along with the beautifully landscaped lawn and flower gardens that lay between the two buildings.

  JoBeth, in a pink silk dress, sat on the Chippendale sofa reading a medical romance, Nurse Judy in Love. Without looking up, she said, “You waiting there’s not gonna make them get here any faster.”

  Leigh Ann turned away from the window, then smoothed her dress and sat on the pale green velvet window seat. Her sleeveless gray satin scrunched above her knees. Crossing her legs she said, “What do you think Aunt Mikki will be wearing today?”

  JoBeth flipped a page in her book. “She always wears black when she travels.”

  “And pearls.” Leigh Ann fingered her own long strand.

  JoBeth stopped reading. Looking thoughtful she said, “Remember that time when we were little and Aunt Mikki was reading us fairy tales?”

  “And she said, ‘I’ll tell you about a real fairy tale.’” Leigh Ann smiled. “Of course I remember!”

  “I wish she’d tell us the whole story again, and how when she first saw Uncle Heath at the camp—”

  “He was like a knight in shining armor that came to rescue her from a barbed wire dungeon.”

  Both girls sighed dreamily.

  “It’s such a romantic story,” JoBeth said, “at least after Uncle Heath showed up. “But Mom says never to bring it up unless Aunt Mikki does.”

  “I know. I can’t imagine how painful the whole thing was for her.”

  “Yeah, being locked up in that nasty place, losing all her family. At least, after the war, when Aunt Mikki was out of there, she and Uncle Heath were finally able to get married--and live happily ever after.” JoBeth placed her book on the table. “I just love happy endings.”

  The sisters sat quietly for a moment until JoBeth spoke. “Do you think--if Daddy had fallen in love with a Japanese girl, whose parents had forbidden her to see him, that he never would’ve forgotten her? And that if he’d been a doctor during World War II, like Uncle Heath, that he would’ve given up his practice—and moved to Arizona to
work as a physician in an internment camp—just so he could be with her?”

  Leigh Ann reflected on this briefly, then laughed. “Daddy, are you kidding? Uncle Heath was the only white doctor working at that hospital. And at first, all the Japanese doctors thought he was a spy. And remember what Uncle Heath told us? If he and Aunt Mikki were ever caught alone—Uncle Heath could’ve been accused of ‘fraternizing with the enemy’ and then charged with treason and conspiracy. I can’t see Daddy risking that. Besides, Daddy never would’ve been interested in some girl that wasn’t white. What kind of segregationist would he be then? I mean, look at Mom. She’s about as Aryan as they come!”

  JoBeth smiled. “You’re right. Besides, Daddy’s not that romantic.”

  “That’s not true,” Charlene said as she walked into the room. “I heard that. Your father’s very romantic. You girls just never see that side of him.” She sat on the pastel toned sofa next to JoBeth. “Why, when he proposed to me—”

  “Mom!” Leigh Ann rolled her eyes as she moved from the window seat to sit with them on the sofa. “We’ve heard this a million times!”

  Charlene continued, ignoring Leigh Ann. “He picked me up in a long black limousine. The chauffeur drove us all around town, and then we ended up at the fanciest, most expensive dinner club in Clarkstown back then. It was called the Peacock Room.”

  “And then,” Leigh Ann said dramatically, “after you finished shrimp and filet mignon, the lights dimmed in the restaurant. The stage was lit, and the show began. The emcee announced that the opening number was a song especially written for that evening’s audience.”

  “And,” JoBeth put an arm around Leigh Ann’s shoulder, “it was called, ‘Marry Me, Marry Me, Please, Charlene.’ Rory Slade, the best big band singer in town sang, and there were lots of beautiful showgirls dressed in feathers and sequins. And when the number ended, all the lights went out.”

  “The room was completely dark.” Leigh Ann took over again. “But then, a spotlight came up on your table. Daddy walked around to you and fell on one knee. A performer, hidden in the darkness, held a microphone for him so the whole restaurant could hear him propose. And when you said yes, the lights came up. Balloons and confetti fell from the ceiling, and then cake and champagne were served to all!” The two girls collapsed against each other laughing.

 

‹ Prev