River of Angels

by Alejandro Morales

  The River Mother came out, carrying an old porcelain clock. She did not look ill, certainly not in failing health. Her face looked drained, but unlike most of the family, she carried Sol’s spirit, not his memory, everywhere she went. For the River Mother, spirit was energy. Sol’s energy was still active on earth and was strong enough to impact other people. The River Mother placed the old porcelain clock between them. Albert described seeing Uncle Philip several times near his house stalking the family. The River Mother listened with one hand on the clock. Albert placed his hands on the sides of the clock and attempted to pick it up, but it was too heavy. The River Mother didn’t let go of what Albert considered an ugly, obsolete fixture. A worker came with a velvet-lined wooden box in which the River Mother inserted the clock.

  “¡Qué reloj tan feo! Ugly clock but very expensive. Mira, Alberto, people are not always who they seem to be. Look at your Uncle Felipe. He is a rich, powerful but dangerous man, the devil, not like this clock, old and of great worth. He has no value—his opinion is twisted. No le hagas caso. Don’t pay attention to him. Your good works will make your future. Alberto, la bendición de esta viejita, en el nombre del Padre, el Hijo y el Espíritu Santo. Follow good paths and always do good works for all people. Amen.” The River Mother caressed his cheek with her fingers and entered the house.

  Albert heard his children playing by the river. He walked down to them, all the while thinking about the River Mother’s words. Louise gathered the kids and met Albert half way up the trail to the truck. They stopped to see three black limousines parked in front of the River Mother’s dwelling: city officials, eminent domain came to mind. Albert watched as several of the assistants brought out the wooden box with the ugly clock. They placed it on the table and opened the box. The men and women looked down and smiled. They reached for the clock, but the River Mother stopped them. The visitors were excited and attempted to get on the side of the table where the River Mother stood, but her workers prevented them from moving closer. More workers emerged from inside the house, from the river, and walked down from the Boyle Heights Yard. Soon, the River Mother’s helpers surrounded the dozen visitors and the limousines. The River Mother shook a finger at one of the visiting women. She called one of her young assistants to talk with the visitors about the ugly clock. Albert, Louise and the boys moved close enough to hear the conversation. They were astonished by the offers being made by the visitors for the ugly clock. As Albert listened, he remembered the Chinese vase that Sol had found years earlier in the river and wondered if Sol would have considered the clock ugly also.

  HIGH ABOVE THE ridges of Rustic Canyon in the Santa Monica Mountains, Uncle Philip stared down at the concrete and steel underground tunnels and stairways winding their way to the canyon bottom. Uncle Philip took a deep breath, then gulped a shot of whisky from his gold flask and braced himself for the descent. He squinted for a glimpse of the buildings and houses of the community he had helped to build. He did not invest cash because Keller Construction “contributed,” unbeknownst to his nephew, all the building materials required, totaling thousands of dollars.

  Philip descended carefully, step by step. Soon came to the first checkpoint where armed guards in silver shirts protected the colony whose ethos was to live independently, separate from the inferior races in the society at large. Their greatest fear was that their children be infected in mind and body by the disease-carrying sub humans who, unfortunately, populated most of the territories above the canyon.

  The Aryan master race community grew its own food, provided electricity and stored water. The community workshop had built generators, a power station, water distribution systems and a deep underground bunker to escape invasions. Uncle Philip moved farther down the twelve stairways that had from six hundred to a thousand steps each. He waved at several more silver-shirted guards who were on patrol near the ten houses clustered in the middle of the fifty-acre parcel in Rustic Canyon, now called Murphy Ranch—named for Jessie M. Murphy, the European immigrant who had purchased the land. Murphy had constructed two small bungalows for three German intellectuals he had invited to set up a training center for the Southern California Aryan Club and for the popular and growing Friends of the New Germany Association. The headmaster and lead trainer was Dr. Dieter Henrich Schmidt, a metaphysical philosopher of Aryan thought and political ideology. Schmidt was a powerful orator and inspired many wealthy Nazi sympathizers not only to join the colony, but to contribute large sums to its maintenance and expansion. At the time Uncle Philip made his way down the stairways, the total Aryan organization consisted of nearly twenty-one thousand members. It had centers and colonies throughout the United States, with six Southern California chapters—in Baldwin Park, Huntington Beach, Pasadena, Inglewood, Long Beach, and the main headquarters at Murphy Ranch.

  From their chapter houses the members launched attacks against all dark-skinned people—Mexicans, blacks, Indians, Asians—and their highest priority target: the Jews and their supposed takeover of Hollywood. The task of eliminating Jews came from the Nazi ideologists in Germany. Philip Keller never felt prouder than he did at that moment, heading down the steps to the party celebrating the arrival of Juergen and Meld Kunzenheim, a wealthy industrialist and his wife. On that night, an invited U.S. government eugenicist from Washington D.C. was to lecture on the moral and genetic dangers of miscegenation. Uncle Philip knew that the theories of the lecturer would reinforce the release of Louise from her marriage to Albert Rivers. As he drew nearer, he could see the tops of the buildings and the terraced hillsides planted with thousands of fruit, olive and nut trees. He approached his favorite building, a state-of-the-art greenhouse. As he stopped for a moment to rest, Philip observed guests who had been brought in by truck down the fire road on the opposite side from where he stood. The road was safer, but it took much longer to get in and out of the colony. Uncle Philip was prepared to make an announcement that Dr. Schmidt had asked him to make that night. Uncle Philip had spoken to groups before, but still he felt nervous.

  A few hours later, after dinner, Philip Keller stood before three hundred supporters of the new Germany. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to announce that Jessie M. Murphy, Dr. Schmidt and Mr. and Mrs. Kunzenheim have signed a contract with Keller Construction Company to expand our facilities. We have hired the Welton Beck-et Architectural Firm to design five magnificent buildings to be constructed right here on our grounds. Initial funding from Kunzenheim Industries will be partly matched by materials contributed by Keller Construction Company and donations from people like you, who believe that our master race will rule the world again.”

  Applause broke out. People stood up and toasted a magnificent future for the master race. Uncle Philip basked in the glow of approval and celebrity.

  ALBERT HAD PRACTICALLY taken over the company’s work sites, yards, materials and administration, at least until his father got back on his feet physically and emotionally. Agatha and her father’s law firm handled all the financial dealings. In spite of the tragedy and its consequences, the company still was on solid financial ground. The company had maintained an enviable position during those difficult economic times. But all was not well. While leaving the Sun Construction Boyle Heights office to head home, Albert saw Uncle Philip drive by, slowly heading toward the First Street bridge.

  The depression that had overtaken his father had been relentless, and it impacted every member of the family. Now, with Albert taking over the business, Oakley seemed to be responding to the medication and therapy the doctors had prescribed. As Oakley got better, Agatha and Dame Marie rallied, and this, in turn, boosted Louise’s morale. Allison, Gloria and Emily’s visits to help Louise became joyful and free of fear again.

  Albert ran out to see Uncle Philip stop his car beyond the driveway, down the street to wait and watch in the driver’s side mirror for Albert’s reflection to appear. Albert considered this a deliberate provocation. He wanted Uncle Philip to stay as far away as possible and to l
eave Louise, the boys and him alone, but Uncle Philip was growing bolder in his approaches to the family. Albert raised his fist at Uncle Philip. He was sure that the old man was taunting and mocking him. As the Keller Construction Company car turned toward the bridge, Albert ran to his pickup and followed the man who had had him beaten and castrated and had murdered Sol. In turn, Sol’s death was the cause of his father’s illness. Albert’s truck easily caught up to Uncle Philip’s as it crossed the bridge that their families had built. Albert sped up to let Uncle Philip know he was just behind him. Startled, Philip hit his brakes, quickly bringing his car almost to a complete stop. Albert’s reaction was not fast enough, resulting in a solid jolt to Uncle Philip’s rear bumper. Philip looked in his rearview mirror and realized who it was, then floored the gas pedal to get away. Albert sped up again. Uncle Philip waved at Albert to pass him. Albert bumped him again, pulled to the left and brought his truck parallel with Uncle Philip’s car. Both men turned for an instant to catch each other’s eyes and hold their gaze. Uncle Philip and Albert pressed on the gas and moved into each other’s space, shifting back and forth on the concrete roadway. Philip’s horn blasted once or twice, but no more. With tense hands maneuvering for a swipe into the other vehicle, both men felt an adrenalin rush, and anger swiftly ran throughout their bodies. Rage widened their eyes and narrowed the road. They only saw one other car. Time sped up. Space was covered in slow motion, shrinking and widening. Both vehicles hugged the right side of the road. Albert’s passenger door and Uncle Philip’s driver’s side door traveled as if they were stuck together. They sped up even more, and the space between them widened. Albert whipped his steering wheel to the right, ramming Uncle Philip up the pedestrian walkway and onto the bridge’s cement railing. Albert’s truck skidded to an abrupt stop ahead of Uncle Philip’s car. Both overcome by blind rage, the men fell out of their vehicles at the same time. For a split second, nature sought a way out when the two crazed men focused on two distinct objects far away across the river. They struggled to stand up, whirled around. For an instant, Albert looked at Uncle Philip like Uncle Philip looked at Albert. Then Uncle Philip stumbled, almost fell toward Albert.

  “What are you doing, you stupid Mexican moron?”

  “Stop following us! Stop going to my house! I don’t want you near Louise and the children!”

  “I’m not going to your house, you castrated greaser! Damn you! You’ve done enough damage already!”

  Uncle Philip went to his car and reached under the seat. Albert rushed and threw his arms around his back, turned Uncle Philip face to face, eye to eye again. Time moved in micro seconds. Their bodies so close, they seemed to breathe together as one being. Albert leaned into Uncle Philip’s ear and whispered something. Uncle Philip pushed against Albert’s chest and an explosion shook both their bodies. Albert held on to Uncle Philip’s arm as a second explosion sounded, and then they both recognized a third gunshot, the recoil almost making Philip drop the gun. Anger, tears, rage …

  “You didn’t listen, too primitive,” he muttered. The gun still in his hand, Philip watched as Albert released his arm and collapsed—like a prayer answered.

  Uncle Philip fired two more times, pushed Albert’s body backwards, splitting the back of his head on the surface of the pedestrian walkway. Uncle Philip dragged Albert to the side of the bridge and sat him up against the bridge’s walkway wall. Several cars drove by cautiously, surveyed the scene and quickly drove away. Uncle Philip waved his hands above his head. Several cars slowed down.

  “Call the police! Get the police!”

  “HOW TERRIBLE TO think that my son is in a box, his hands crossed over his heart, eyes closed to the earth but seeing eternally. He’s buried deep in the ground because I didn’t protect him enough, because I didn’t go after the men who brutalized and maimed him. My Albert never held it against me. I know he loved me unconditionally, but I was not there for him when he needed me the most. He had given me signs. That racist had come back to bother Louise and the children. I didn’t do anything! I sat feeling sorry for myself. How could things have gone so wrong? Why did I behave so wrongly to a threat toward my family? Sol was right to confront the murderer! Now it’s me who is left to avenge Sol and Albert’s assassinations. Philip will suffer. I will make him suffer.” Oakley swallowed the pills that Agatha handed him and gently pushed the glass of water away.

  Earlier that day the doctor had visited Oakley. “Agatha, he must eat, drink. I have tried everything that I know. Now it’s up to him. He has to want to live. Who knows how he’ll react if he’s hospitalized. I think he’s better at home. He has a better chance of a breakthrough here in his normal surroundings. Yes, he has the house, the garden, family, friends and the workers around him, so many people to take care of him so well, who want him to live. Physically he is fine. He has so much to live for.”

  SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER on a clear cool day, Albert Rivers was laid to rest next to his Uncle Sol in East Los Angeles’ Calvary Cemetery. Ever since they had lowered Albert into the ground, images, visions and sounds related to Albert’s past, the things he did, the people he loved appeared to Oakley. Oakley’s mind and now his life had been overtaken by memories of his son. He could not rest or waste any energy or time worrying about anything else. He saw that his task for the rest of his life was to keep his son alive by recalling his life from conception to that horrible day. Louise came to Oakley and sat at his side, talking to him about Keller Oakley and Allison Agat.

  “Your grandchildren want you to get better. Albert wants you to be a grandfather to his sons. Albert needs you to play, to read, to take them to the park, to play baseball with them. Remember, that’s what you did with Albert. Now he needs you to do the same with his boys.”

  Every other day Louise brought the boys and stayed for hours cooking for him, talking to him and walking him around the house, recalling moments they had in this room, on the sofa, by the fireplace, in the garden, in the small forest, in the garage, in the kitchen where they now sat. Louise took his hand and placed it on her tummy.

  “Feel the baby. The baby is coming soon. Feel it moving. It’s Albert’s baby, and he wants you and Agatha to help me with the new baby. Albert wants his father to get stronger. Please, Oakley, I need you.”

  AT OAKLEY AND Agatha’s, the workers were always helping in the kitchen, the house, the garden, going for groceries, materials for repairs, seeds, plants and fertilizer for the vegetable garden, flowers for inside and outside of the house. The workers normally received their chores for the Hancock Park house from Agatha, but increasingly they went to Louise, who often visited her mother-in-law either at home or at Sun Construction’s Boyle Heights Yard to help her in any way she could. Agatha had Louise do simple chores in the office. Louise filed purchase orders and contracts. Soon Agatha had her drawing up contract documents. She taught her daughter-in-law how to work with small accounts and, eventually, large projects. Louise took on these tasks, eagerly learning much of what Albert had done in the early days of the business. Later, although he knew how to do the office work, he had preferred bidding jobs and working at project sites.

  To do the cost projections on a job, Louise learned the materials bidding process. She enjoyed sitting with Agatha to discuss company business investments, construction contracts and payroll decisions. Agatha explained how the Banac law firm reviewed agreements and contracts entered into by Sun Construction. Louise facilitated the working relationship between Sun Construction and the Banacs’ bank. She learned quickly, and her visits to help out a little quickly went from part-time to an almost full-time schedule. She did this always thinking about her Keller Oakley, Allison Agat and the child she carried. By working she kept Albert always present, because in doing what he had done to support his family, he was with her; in doing the mental and physical work, she talked with him mentally and felt him physically; in learning and doing Albert’s work, he was around and in her. One sunny afternoon Agatha approached Louise to share a concern.
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br />   “Louise, you know we are lucky to have help with our children. I think it is wonderful that you are learning the company business. I’m sure Keller Oakley and Allison Agat miss you. I want you to stay healthy. … The baby’s almost here. Please let me help you. I love you.”

  OAKLEY GOT UP at five in the morning and shuffled his way through every room in the house until finally he found the kitchen. He insisted on coffee and scolded the housekeeper, Agrepina, for not having it ready. That day he was moving better than he had for months. Somehow invigorated, he stepped outside to study the summer sky and told the gardeners to fertilize the front and back lawns and all the flower beds. Agatha caught up with him and walked him back to the kitchen, where he drank a cup of coffee and ate two pieces of toast. Agatha smiled at Agrepina, who was surprised as much as she at Oakley’s activity. Maybe he had broken the depression that had derailed him physically and psychologically for so long.

  By twelve Agatha had called all the family, including Allison and Ernest and, of course, Louise, with the good news that Oakley was back to his normal self. Was it a miracle? It was a miracle! Regardless of what had happened, Agatha, after living for so long with Oakley, had learned from him about other powers, about believing in miracles, believing that changes could be caused by inexplicable energies that spontaneously manifested their presence. She expected family to come by to visit around three in the afternoon.

  After enjoying a lunch of soup and salad, Oakley sat in his favorite leather chair, facing the garden. He got comfortable and asked for a cup of tea. His wife went to the kitchen, happy that he was back. She left him sitting comfortably and at peace. Agatha delighted that her husband was engaged in life again. That morning he had moved throughout the house as if he were rediscovering every room. He walked out to the garden the way he used to. Agrepina and the men working outside saw him and began to carry out their duties with more enthusiasm. The news of his recovery circulated rapidly.