The Clarkl Soup Kitchens (13 page)

“How sad you must feel, now,” the Reverend Crocker said, “to lose both your dear friend and your dreams. God works in mysterious ways, is it not so?”

“My beliefs do not encompass a God who deceives and cheats,” I insisted. “My God would have lived up to the agreement, even if it was not sanctified by a legal contract.”

“God has a place for you, Miss Hope. I know change is hard, but your life is really just starting again. You have so many options,” he said, much too smugly.

“I have my degree in English,” I admitted, “but I have never worked. I want to teach in a private school, but my situation will require I look in another direction. A private school teacher will never make enough to pay off those mortgages.”

It was true. During those first years with Mrs. Aperson, I had taken afternoon classes at
Penn
State
’s
Pittsburgh
campus. It wasn’t the traditional college matriculation, but after fifteen years I had a bachelor’s degree from a Big Ten school. Mrs. Aperson had paid the first year’s tuition, but I had won scholarships after that.

“Let me think about this entire set of circumstances and requirements,” the Reverend Crocker said. “First, though, let me write a check for $15,000 so you can pay the mortgages. Then, we’ll see what can be done.”

“Thank you,” I sighed. “That is very generous.”

Right after the meeting, I took the check to the bank and paid one month’s worth of mortgages. I had $3,200 left from the $15,000, so I bought about six weeks worth of groceries.

April 21, 2142
– The Reverend Crocker came to the house today. He wore another nice suit, and I found myself wondering if the $750,000, minus my $15,000, had paid his haberdasher’s bill.

“Let me talk a bit about our work,” he started, after he had accepted some Earl Gray tea and some Lord Baltimore cake.

He sipped a bit and continued, “The New Christian Congregation is made up, mostly, of former Roman Catholics. After the terrible disintegration of the church in
America
in the 2070s, many priests got together to form an organization to bid as subcontractors on the
United States
government’s contract with Clarkl.”

“Clarkl? That planet with all that uranium?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s the one. In order to get its hands on that uranium, the government agreed to run dining rooms on Clarkl. They have a terrible, terrible problem there with famine, and they were willing to sell uranium to get food and its preparation.”

“I see,” I said, even though it was still very fuzzy as to how I could fit into that business.

“Of course, all those original priests have gone home, but many faithful of the laity hired seminarians to conduct the old rites. I was a Methodist seminarian in 2137 when I got the call from the New Christian Congregation.”

“So you are a Catholic priest?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” he insisted. “I’m still a Methodist, but I help Catholics and others find God through prayer and meditation. All that claptrap of confessionals and holy water and communion is gone. We just search for God and the Christ spirit through individual prayer.”

“And by feeding the hungry on Clarkl,” I interjected.

“No, that’s how we make our money. We run our church with the funds the government pays us.”

April 30, 2142
– The Reverend Crocker came back today, wearing another expensive suit and bringing along his wife, a comely woman with a very direct manner.

“How nice to meet you at last, Miss Hope,” she said. “Archie has been telling me how much you had been counting on the money Mrs. Aperson left for us.”

I smiled demurely, knowing any other gesture would allow “Go to hell!” to escape my lips.

“Actually, I was counting on my home, free and clear. I have the home, but it is about $450,000 from being paid for,” I explained.

“Yes,” Mrs. Crocker said, “we have the paperwork here, in Archie’s briefcase.”

I was stunned that weasel of a lawyer would give them my financial information, but they were the primary legatee and I was only a poor mortgagor.

“We have a proposal to make to you, dear,” Mrs. Crocker went on. “We want you to work for us for ten years, and we will pay off your house while we use it for our charitable purposes. Then, you will be free to move back into the house and work at any profession.”

I quickly said, “In ten years, I will be almost sixty years old, much too old to start teaching.”

“Oh, no, my dear, not at all,” Mrs. Crocker pressed. “The schools, both public and private, are expected to have a terrible dearth of teachers over the next twenty years as college graduates now are shunning those professions. You will be much sought after.”

“What would you ask me to do for ten years?”

“Manage the financial end of our interests in Clarkl, that’s what,” she said. “We have a man who is ready to come back to
America
, and we need to replace him. It is a matter of gathering all kinds of statistics and reporting those to the New Christian Congregation.”

I had taken several courses at
Penn
State
in accounting and statistics, and I had enjoyed them. But I had never considered myself expert enough to earn money in those fields.

“I have many things I would want to store in the attic,” I said. “I could allow you to have the rest of the house for your programs. Can you pay me something during those ten years?”

Mrs. Crocker nodded. “Yes, we will provide your transportation to Clarkl, put you up in a cabin, provide all your meals at one of our dining rooms, and give you an allowance of $500 per month. That will more than cover anything you would want to buy.”

“And you will pay all expenses of the house, including the mortgages, the taxes, the utilities, and the maintenance?” I asked.

“Yes, based on these numbers for the balances for the mortgages. We will be happy to work with you on this exchange,” Mrs. Crocker said.

The Reverend Crocker sat on the sofa, nodding, smiling, and sipping tea.

May 5, 2142
– The Crockers came again today, and I was ready to sign the contract.

My research on Clarkl had not left me with much excitement about my home for the next ten years. The place was cold nearly every day, and the natives were not known for going out of their way to welcome Earthlings, even though we were responsible for feeding a large portion of them.

I agreed to be ready on June 10 to take a bus to
Omaha
to meet my spaceflight. I agreed to have the house, except for the attic, ready for occupancy on June 8.

May 30, 2142
– I have sold my car and some of Mrs. Aperson’s silver. I now have $13,700 in the bank. I will take about $10,000 in Universal Gold with me to Clarkl, just enough to make me feel I could get home if I needed to.

June 2, 2142
– All day shuttling between the attic and the first floor. I put the rest of the silver in the larger trunk and the two violins in the armoire. I did not disturb the smaller trunk, as always. I padlocked the door.

I called Ferdy today. I had not seen him since the funeral, and I had expected he would at least stop by to see how I was holding up. His wife was out and the maid took my message.

Certainly some cash should have gone to him! The will said he was forgiven for all his loans, but there was no tally of those or any listing of dates when they had been made.

My idea of the Judge’s will, although I never actually saw it, was that Mrs. Aperson was to take care of Ferdy while she was alive and leave him something in her will. Ferdy was the Judge’s only relative, and maybe she borrowed against the house to pay for all those years he fooled around at Yale.

Where did all the money go? We lived very economically.

June 5, 2142
– Still no call from Ferdy. I suppose he received the message that I would be going to Clarkl, although my activities seem to make no difference to him since he married that ugly aluminum heiress.

The cleaning company came today. I allowed them into every room but the attic. They will finish with my bedroom in two days, and then I will be ready to leave.

How nice the kitchen looks! I was determined to replace all the appliances after I inherited the place, but they are all fresh and clean now.

June 10, 2142
– A long day on the bus, with a stopover tonight in
Indianapolis
. So much farmland in western
Ohio
, and so different from the crowded cities of
Pennsylvania
.

The bus came very close to the shore of the
Great
Lake
. The driver pointed out the remains of
Cleveland
.

We stopped in
Columbus
for lunch, two hours at a shopping center with several restaurants and two hotel dining rooms.

I have all my Universal Gold in my Bosom Buddy, and I heard the coins rattle several times. I stuffed the purse with linen napkins from the restaurant. I look like Mae West.

Tonight, we are at a very old Motel 6, with thin walls and a bottom sheet that was made for a smaller bed. The wakeup call will come at
5:30 a.m.
, and I am looking forward to seeing something of
Illinois
.

Chicago
, of course, will be gone.

June 11, 2142
– A relaxing trip from
Indianapolis
to
Des Moines
, with most of the original travelers discharged. At last I was able to get a window seat.

I should have bought an extra ticket. That would have assured me of a reservation.

June 12, 2142
– At a small hotel near the spaceport, paid for by the New Christians. Very clean, very elegantly furnished.

The spacecraft will leave on June 14, according to the receptionist. She recommended I see something of
Omaha
tomorrow, especially the reenergized cattle ranches.

There was meat in the hotel’s restaurant, a small dining room that is highly rated by the locals. I have not seen beef offered on a menu since 2115. The price for a steak was just eye-popping, but the meals are being picked up by the church.

This may be my last steak for ten years. The Clarklians are vegetarians, and our dining rooms never serve meat. At the rate we are reimbursed for the food, we could never afford to offer meat, anyway.

June 13, 2142
– A nice day today in
Omaha
, accompanied by a young man I met in the hotel’s lobby.

We toured the city on a bus with a tour guide, and we enjoyed a nice romp in the hay to end the day. He is back to a client’s site tomorrow, and I am off to Clarkl. Two ships passing in the night. More energetic than Ferdy in the sack, but not as well endowed.

How apprehensive I am about the trip to Clarkl! Those spacecrafts have never met with any accident, and no passenger has ever been killed. The Americans are close to developing a craft that will travel to Clarkl, but the ones furnished by other planets are always a safe ride. My apprehension is my fear of new places and new responsibilities.

June 16, 2142
– All settled into the craft for the three-month trip. A small cabin on the second from the bottom deck.

The top deck has the really spacious cabins, with large bathrooms and large beds. The bottom deck has two or three passengers in each room, with a tiny shower bath to share. Our deck has single rooms with small beds and the same shower baths. We have a shared bathtub down the hall, but I am used to the showers.

Plenty of water, both hot and cold, though. The craft makes its own water continually.

The food is the same as the Church serves to the Clarklians. Some dishes are really fine, and others are mediocre. Mrs. Aperson’s favorite corn pudding, the one she took to every potluck supper, is here, with a tastier recipe that uses nutmeg.

Our craft is full of people going to Clarkl to cook, so the dining room is their responsibility. I am on the clean-up crew every other day, with all other time free.

The Church has given me a forty-page book that shows the statistics gathered and the reports produced from those statistics. I have read the book twice so far, and it looks like an easy job. If people send me the numbers, that is.

Lots of time to think over what might have gone wrong with Mrs. Aperson. Where did all that money go?

I’ve thought a lot about Darrin in the last two days. How perfect he was when he was born!

In 2111 Ferdy was twenty-two and I was just eighteen. I came to Mrs. Aperson in June, right after my high school graduation, and Ferdy was expected in two weeks. Certainly if Ferdy had never visited that summer, Mrs. Aperson would have delayed finding a companion because she was still in superb health.

We cleaned every room in the house during those two weeks, and I baked breakfast rolls for the freezer and made about thirty quarts of chicken stock for soup and sauces.

At last he came, with the news that he had not yet completed his work at Yale, even though he had been there for four years, summers included. He intended to stay, he said, for six weeks.