Braided Gold

by Glen Roylance

  Paul struggled to control his frustration. “I just don’t understand what’s going on. Why all the mystery?”

  “She’s a wonderful woman, Paul. Just trust her.”

  “Then you know about the contact she’s made with me.”

  “Just trust her, Paul.”

  Paul reconciled himself to the fact that there would be no answers from Anna and made an effort at being gracious as he closed his conversation. He resented being involved in circumstances he had no ability to control. Paul thought for a moment, his hand still resting on the telephone receiver. Picking it up once again, he dialed “Information.”

  “For what city, please?”

  “Detroit, Michigan.”

  “For what listing?”

  “Hertz Car Rental, Detroit Airport.” He scribbled the number on a pad of paper, then dialed again.

  “Hertz Car Rental”

  “This is Paul Kirkham. I’d like to confirm a reservation in my name for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “One moment please.” After a couple of minutes the female voice returned to the line. “Yes, Mr. Kirkham, we have your reservation.”

  “There should be some driving directions attached to the reservation, an address, I believe. Could you give me the address?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirkham. There is an envelope stapled to your reservation, but it is marked ‘Confidential.’ There is also a note from the manager requiring that this envelope be delivered only after proper personal identification has been presented.”

  “But this is Paul Kirkham. That envelope is intended for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirkham. I’m not at liberty to …”

  “Who made the reservation?” said Paul, impatiently breaking into the woman’s explanation.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have that information. The reservation merely states, ‘Prepaid.’”

  Paul tersely closed the conversation and hung up the phone. Elizabeth, whoever she was, had covered all her bases.

  The morning wore on and Paul went through the motions of preparing for the day. He showered and shaved and then, as he stood inside his ‘walk-in’ clothes closet surveying the wide variety of clothing ordered and hung neatly on hangers, the thought occurred to him that there was no plan for this day – nowhere to go. Perhaps he should pack a suitcase, he thought to himself, but then rejected the idea. After all, he still wasn’t sure he would accept this woman’s invitation!

  Perhaps he ought to make a visit to Claire and Michael. He yearned to see her. He needed her, but the thought of an unavoidable confrontation made him reticent.

  Leo Dykeman! Yes, he would visit with Leo. He knew Leo would be at home – yes, he would call him. Hopefully they would be able to get together. He needed to talk to Leo about Jerry Warren. It would be an uncomfortable visit – so many difficult things to talk about – he needed Leo!

  Paul dressed and worked unsuccessfully on breakfast. He had no appetite. After clearing the table he stood at his kitchen window, gazing out at a beautiful morning. The ferns, the citrus trees, the broadleaf plants in his back yard all seemed to be bathed in iridescent color as the rays of the early morning sun streamed from the east through the dense foliage, but he could not connect with nature’s beauty nor make emotional room for feelings of appreciation.

  For him, this was a dark day wherein he had been consigned to personal torment that could not be dispersed with morning sunlight.

  The phone rang, calling him from his morbid preoccupations. It was Mitch, wanting to know if they could meet sometime during the day. This was the first time they had visited since a day or two before the campus riot.

  “Do you have good news or bad news?” asked Paul.

  “It’s time to regroup,” said Mitch bluntly, “but I’d rather talk to you in person if you’ve got some time today.”

  “Oh, I’ve got time, all right,” said Paul with a tone of cynicism. Paul agreed to meet Mitch and asked him to come to his home. He wanted to avoid an appearance on campus. In the meeting that followed there were no victories to celebrate as they conferred about the hearings that were now just four days away.

  “We got too much of a good thing,” said Mitch bluntly, as the two men sat together at his kitchen table. “We had all our ducks lined up, then things just got out of control. There’s no way to minimize the fallout from what happened yesterday. When we get into that hearing we’ll have some enormous damage control on our hands. It seems that everybody is pinning ugly labels on you right now. The press is characterizing you as a radical and a dissident. Undoubtedly the counsel for the trustees will attempt to make you responsible for all that has happened. So far as he’s concerned, the case against you is closed and the verdict is already in. The business of the Fairclough abortion has been upstaged by the riot. In fact, the Administration doesn’t even know where they’re going to hold the hearing. Everything is in a mess on campus!”

  The fire had gone out inside Paul. Self-defense and retribution were no longer urgent issues with him. “Maybe any kind of a defense strategy is a charade,” said Paul.

  “Listen, Paul, so long as I’m defending you I’m not going to roll over and play dead. The way I look at it, the fundamental issue here is unchanged, and that issue involves academic freedom. Either a professor on a college campus has the right to say what he pleases in his efforts to help students find fundamental truths, or he has to yield to political censorship. Somehow we’ve got to dramatize that point without being derailed by yesterday’s events.”

  “Mitch, did you know that people died in that fire yesterday?”

  “Yes, I know all about it, and I’m not hiding from it. But you’re not on trial for that any more than you’re on trial for the death of Jill Fairclough. Those people made choices. It was their right. It’s true that what they did came back to bite them, but who says they’re not martyrs to the cause they chose? We’re talking about a social revolution here, Paul, and that involves dangerous territory. In the real world you can’t sugarcoat idealism; there’s always a personal price involved. I know that yesterday’s events were unfortunate, but if people use them to squelch freedom of expression or dissent on a university campus, that’s tyranny – it’s repealing social progress.”

  Paul nodded in agreement but said nothing.

  “They may try to crucify you in that hearing, Paul, but it would be a tactical error to dismiss the strength of our fundamental position. Right now our job is to counter all this negative publicity.” Mitch had expected Paul to wholeheartedly endorse his analysis of things, but it was obvious, even to him, that some of the wind had gone out of Paul’s sails. Recent developments had deadened something within him.

  “You know, Paul, we’re all sad about what happened yesterday, but if the other side tries to turn these hearings into a witch hunt because of the melee on campus, I intend to rub their noses in the real issues. Why were those kids doing what they did? The simple answer is that they were striking back against the Administration. They were thumbing their noses at the Board of Trustees. I’m as sorry as anybody about those kids that died in the Administration Building, but if anybody’s going to bear the responsibility for that, it ought to be the Trustees and the Administration of this University. Injustice always has its consequences and yesterday was a tragic payday. Do you see it any differently than that, Paul?”

  “I’m glad you’re on my side, Mitch. I have always appreciated people who can see to the heart of complicated issues and can lay out the facts as you do.”

  Paul had prided himself on clear thinking – on his ability to accurately delineate issues – to be an effective commentator in favor of social change. In part, his inner strength had come through the confidence that he was right, even if validation in the right was self-conferred. But now, as complex issues swirled about him and as questions of his culpability and propriety haunted him, he lacked the clarity and confidence that had been his strength for so long. Clearly his inner feelings had undergone something of
a transformation – something had been broken within him.

  And yet, if there was a possibility that he could still win the immediate battle, he had to continue the struggle. He could see no other realistic option. There was something deeply ingrained within Paul Kirkham that required him to fight back. That he would do, but still he was resigned to the fact that justice was not on his side, that he would likely be destroyed in the ongoing conflict. Though Paul did not openly reveal his misgivings to Mitch, he was unable to hide his detachment and diffidence as the strategy session continued.

  Alone again, Paul felt weary. His sleepless nights, particularly the previous difficult night, had begun to take a serious toll physically and emotionally. He felt drained and sensed that there was little resilience left in him.

  In her thirty years of marriage Myrna Dykeman had always been able to lean on Leo for support. His optimism and faith in people counterbalanced her mistrusting nature. She adored her husband, but more than that, she had come to trust him implicitly as they had passed through the ups and downs of life together. Though she shared Leo’s affection for Paul Kirkham she, nonetheless, regarded some of his motives with suspicion. Still, she had held her peace, comfortable in allowing Leo to dote on Paul as a father would give himself to a favorite son. But campus events during the last several weeks, particularly the last twenty-four hours, had caused anger to displace her affection for Paul. And as Leo had sided with Paul in this issue that had come to rock the campus, she expressed strong disapproval. In consequence, she and Leo had experienced several heated exchanges that had precipitated a marked strain in their otherwise idyllic relationship.

  The campus riot had stung Leo and he had become silent and sullen as the events of that bleak day played themselves out. During the ensuing sleepless night Myrna had reached out to him, trying to bridge the distance – to offer some consolation, but he would not allow himself to be comforted. And then, only hours ago, heartache had been multiplied for Leo as an unexpected twist came as a result of these grim campus events.

  For these reasons, Myrna was in a most agitated frame of mind when Paul’s afternoon call came. “Hello Myrna, is Leo at home?”

  Her voice was icy as she responded, “Leo is not at home, Paul, and I don’t know where he is. I wish I did, but if he were here I’m not sure that he would want to speak with you. There comes a time when enough is enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Myrna, I …”

  “Let me be the first to share some unhappy news with you, Paul. Leo has been asked to step down as Chairman of the Psychology Department.”

  “But why?”

  “Why do you think it happened, Paul? Dean Conley called earlier today and said that in view of recent campus developments, he felt that the integrity of the Psychology Department had been compromised and that effective immediately Leo would be relieved of his chairmanship. And there you have it – a facelift in an effort to restore the image of the Department. How’s that for a ‘Paul Kirkham’ victory?”

  “Myrna, I’m so very sorry. None of us could have anticipated that things would turn out this way.”

  “Spare me all of that, please! I’ve begun to wonder if you really know how to be sorry. Oh, and incidentally, you’ll be happy to know who is taking Leo’s place. Rex Hale will become the new Department Chair!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was another blue morning for Claire. She had been appalled by the events that had taken place on campus. The disdain she felt for Paul at the outset of their association had returned, and she was grateful she had been strong enough to extricate herself from a relationship that had subtly pushed her towards personal compromise. The pity she had once felt had now been displaced with disappointment and increasing feelings of antipathy. Although she had given her heart to Michael without reservation, it was necessary for her to consciously dissociate her role as his caregiver from the fact that Paul was Michael’s father. For her this became a balancing act as she tried to be gracious during Paul’s periodic visits to Michael. As for Michael’s physical condition, there was no noticeable change. His pain and the need for constant sedation had never abated.

  Claire kept herself abreast of the continuing flow of news stories regarding the crisis at San Diego State. She had, however, taken pains to see that the controversy involving Paul never came to Michael’s attention. During these explosive days on campus Michael had repeatedly asked when Paul would be coming to see him again. Claire’s gentle response was to remind Michael that his father was very busy with work responsibilities and that she was certain he would come as soon as he could get away. She was resolved to contact Paul, perhaps today, and ask him to stop by for Michael’s sake. This would not be an easy thing for her to do, as she felt reluctance to reestablish personal contact with this man to whom she had mistakenly given so much of her heart. Personal conversation with Paul was simply unappealing to her.

  On this particular morning she had prepared Michael’s breakfast, and after giving him his morning medication she made a comfortable place for him on her living room sofa. She placed the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and told Michael she was leaving for a few minutes to get the morning mail and to pick up a couple of household items at a nearby grocery store. Since bringing him into her home she had never left him alone longer that a few minutes at a time. On those occasions when Paul had come to visit with Michael she had used this valuable time to take care of personal and household matters away from home.

  As she slid into the front seat of her car, mail in hand, she was surprised to see an envelope that had been placed beneath the windshield wiper. It was from Paul. Full of curiosity, she retrieved the envelope and read the handwritten thoughts Paul had apparently set to paper earlier that morning.

  Dearest Claire,

  By the time you receive this I will be on my way to Ann Arbor, Michigan. It will be a short but important trip. I have unfinished business in that city that is so full of ghosts from the past. I wanted to talk to you so very much before leaving but was reasonably certain you would not want to see me or receive a phone call in the midst of the present campus crisis. I feel enormous distance between the two of us and wish that it were not so. The miracle of the last few months is that you were willing to allow me a place in your life and, more than that, a place in your heart. How I have longed to hold you in my arms once again. But I am sufficiently reconciled to the present circumstances and willingly substitute fond memories for something that has now become impossible.

  I suppose I have always known that our lives could never really fit together. How I wish it could somehow be otherwise and that I might be worthy of you. Your innate goodness has been difficult for me to fathom. Your consistency in always striving for the moral high ground leaves me feeling very much flawed in comparison. Though I have always sought to live by a system of principles, I freely acknowledge that your principles are clearly superior. I sincerely wish I were able to believe as you do, embracing goodness with the ease you evidence.

  I’m certain that the events of the last few days have been deeply disturbing to you. I, too, regard them as tragic. I have spent many hours with feelings of personal torment, wishing that I might call back words and deeds that instigated much of what has happened. As a mater of fact, I have slept very little during the past two days. In reflective hindsight I feel the heaviness of self-condemnation. It is impossible to predict the outcome of all that has transpired, but I do anticipate that justice will be satisfied so far as my involvement is concerned. I’ll not resist it nor resent it.

  Please give my love to Michael. Tell him that I have gone to see his Aunt Elizabeth. I will return to San Diego in a couple of days – the evening before the hearings commence. Tell Michael I’ll come to see him following my arrival in San Diego.

  All my love,

  Paul

  Not only did Paul’s letter surprise Claire, but its tone revealed an aspect of his nature that had previously been masked to her. This man was capable of genuine h
umility! His words softened her angry feelings sufficiently that she felt a willingness to reach out to him emotionally. To her surprise, as well as discomfort, she felt renewed desire to stand by him in his hour of crisis.

  Paul was unsuccessful in his efforts to sleep during the long flight to Detroit. His feelings were feverish as he rehearsed the events of the last few days. As the hours wore on he found himself reminiscing about the bittersweet days in Ypsilanti and the self-assurance with which he had approached his graduate studies at the University of Michigan. That self-assurance was gone at the present time, and he wondered what would become of his life in the days ahead. His thoughts reverted back to his courtship with Cathy. Oh, that he might recapture the magic of those carefree days.

  There were thoughts of his undergraduate studies at San Diego State where he first came under the influence of Leo Dykeman. It was Leo who had helped him escape the ugly chapters of his childhood if, in fact, he had ever escaped them. Leo had been a trusted and influential mentor during this formative period. He had succeeded in sponsoring wholesome and lofty aspiration within Paul. Since his childhood Paul had understood that he was gifted intellectually, but Leo had helped him transform his proclivity for the academic side of life into something honorable. Text books and classes, as well as examinations and grades, had gradually become something more than tools in the achieving of personal validation amidst the emotional insecurities of daily life.

  Leo had managed to awaken a sense of mission within Paul, as well as his passion for doctoral studies at the University of Michigan. Moreover, it was through Leo’s influence that Paul had found an open door awaiting him at the University of Michigan. His acceptance into a doctoral program, his teaching fellowship, his entrée with the professorial staff – all these things had come through Leo’s efforts in his behalf.

  It was Leo who had helped Paul recapture his life following Cathy’s death. And finally, it had been Leo’s influence that had established Paul in his career at San Diego State, providing him with an unanticipated opportunity for personal advancement. Most recently Paul’s debut as a television personality with N.E.T. had come through Leo’s assistance.