The Governor's Sons (46 page)

“Good, Charlene.
 
That’s good.”

Charlene sighed. “Thank goodness JoBeth’s a good girl and we don’t have to worry about
her
.”

“Yeah.”
 
Ash started for the door again.
 
“At least one of our kids has her head screwed on straight.”
 
When he reached for the crystal doorknob, Charlene stopped him.

“Ash, you said you had to tell Harland Hall something--everything.”

He paused, then turned to face her.
 
“Uh—just about Gavin’s situation.”
 
So her eyes couldn’t read his, he looked away quickly and left the room.

****

Gavin had been in his room since the FBI had discreetly ushered him from the country club.
 
They’d made up an excuse saying that he was needed at home immediately for some pressing political business that involved a photo op for the family.

He thought that was the truth until they’d arrived at the mansion.
 
That’s when the FBI searched his car, and then his room.
 
He’d been told not to leave the house for the rest of the day, but since then he’d felt too sick to leave his room anyway.

It was torture waiting for his dad.
 
The anxiety gnawed away at his gut, and he’d been too uptight to concentrate on much of anything else.
 
For a while, he’d listened to his new Beatles album, “Help!”
 
He must’ve played the title song five straight times, although it
didn’t
help him.

Later, he glanced at the breasts of his pinup posters.
 
Ursula Andress was a new addition to his wall.
 
Compared to Brigitte Bardot and Ann-Margret, she had the biggest ones.
 
But they only kept him occupied for a few minutes.
 
After he’d flipped through his
Playboy,
and then a copy of
The Sporting News,
he tried to sleep.

But sleep never came as he lay with his eyes shut.
 
He couldn’t stop his mind from dwelling on the wrath of Dad.
 
Gavin got up and wandered to the window.
 
The peaceful view of rolling hills, magnolia trees and the river did nothing to ease his mind.

It hadn’t been too long since Dad had gotten home—and he was mad.
 
Gavin had heard him yelling down at the opposite end of the hall in Leigh Ann’s room a little earlier.
 
That had made him feel a little better.
 
Maybe Leigh Ann was in worse trouble than he was.
 
Whatever the case, Gavin was next in line for Dad’s punishment—and a lecture.
 
While Gavin stood at the window, he heard his father knock at the door.
 
It wasn’t a pounding like he’d expected, just a regular knock.

“Son, I need to talk to you.”

Gavin wondered why he was being so nice. But that just made him more nervous.
 
It reminded him of one of his father’s expressions, “the calm before the storm.”
 
Gavin hesitated for a second, but when he did try to speak his throat was dry.
 
After clearing it, he said, “Come in.”

Gavin’s stomach did a back flip when his father walked into the room.
 
Ash had circles under his eyes and looked worn and tired.
 
Despite this, Gavin still found himself backing away.

“Sit down,” his dad commanded.
 
At least he wasn’t yelling.
 
Maybe he’d exhausted his temper when he’d read the riot act to Leigh Ann.

Gavin sat on an ornately carved bench at the foot of his bed.
 
His dad sat in a large curved back chair opposite him.
 
Eager to divert attention from his own situation, Gavin quickly asked, “So, what did Leigh Ann do?”

“Let’s not worry about Leigh Ann, right now.”
 
Ash paused for a moment.
 
“Son, you know I love you—and I’m still proud of you.”
 
Dad looked weird as he said this, Gavin thought, like the words tasted strange coming out of his mouth.
 
“Maybe I haven’t said it often enough,” Gavin never recalled hearing it at all, “but believe me, son, I am.”

Ash then took a deep breath.
 
“Gavin, tell me about the reefer.”

Reefer?
 
If Gavin hadn’t been so scared, he might have laughed. Dad was such a square.

“Who got you started doing that?
 
And why would you want to do it in the first place?
 
Your body’s a temple, that’s what the Bible says. You only have one and you gotta take care of it.”

Gavin didn’t say anything, and he kept himself from rolling his eyes.
 
Blah, blah, blah, “your body’s a temple.”
 
He was so sick of hearing Mom and Dad preach about clean living all the time.

“I’ll tell you right now,” Ash said, “I love you too much to see you turn into a damn drug addict and end up dead like Leigh Ann’s boyfriend!”

Gavin smirked.
 
“It was only marijuana.”

“When it comes to drugs, there is no ‘it’s only!’
 
First its reefer, then it’s cocaine, and then it’s heroin!
 
If you don’t overdose, you jump out a damn window ‘cause you think you can fly—or you just end up living for dope and get so messed up in the head you can’t function!”

“C’mon, Dad!”

“Don’t be flip with me!
 
Tell me where that dope came from!”
 
Ash leaned toward Gavin.
 
“Was it Otis?” he asked quietly.

Uncle Otis did smoke it, and they’d even gotten high a few times together, but Gavin had been smoking Mary Janes since he was a senior in high school.
 
Now he mostly smoked pot with friends at parties on the weekends.
 
“It wasn’t Uncle Otis.”

“Then it must’ve been Libby!”
 
Ash loudly accused her.
 
“Is she the one who introduced you to it?”

“No.
 
Libby didn’t approve of drugs.
 
She always had a fit whenever Uncle Otis smoked--”
 
Dang it! He didn’t mean to let that slip.

Ash narrowed his eyes and again dropped his voice. “So it
was
Otis.”

“Okay.
 
Uncle Otis did smoke pot, but he’s not the one that got me started.
 
All the kids do it.”

“Don’t give me that!
 
You can’t go around acting like all the other kids!
 
You’re my son!”

“Well--” desperate for something to cool off his dad, Gavin quickly made up a story.
 
“Uncle Otis said that—um—when he smoked it—it helped him to—uh—concentrate better.
 
So, when a friend offered me some, I decided to try it.
 
So—maybe I could--do better in school.”
 
His father’s eyes got all red and watery, but he didn’t cry.
 
Ha! Gavin thought.
 
Dad fell for it.

“Son,” Ash said, “you don’t need drugs—okay.
 
There are other ways we can help you do better in school.
 
Now—you’re done with marijuana—right?”

Gavin hesitated.
 
“Yeah—right, Dad.”
 

Ash looked down at the floor for a while before he spoke again.
 
“Now, son,” he lifted his gaze to Gavin’s, “I know you don’t want to kill Harland Hall—and so does the FBI.
 
And I know you had nothing to do with that stuff they found in your car.
 
And I’m confident you can tell me that.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.
 
And I don’t know where it came from.”

“Okay.
 
Now, what about all that hate propaganda they found in your room?”

No use lying to Dad about it, Gavin thought.
 
“Yeah, it’s mine.”

“And you read it?”

“Yeah.
 
Do you think I can’t read or something?”

“I know you can read—but you hate to read, unless it’s something that really holds your interest.”
 
Gavin didn’t respond.
 
“So you were actually interested in that junk?”

“Some of it.”

“And do you hate that much?” Ash said.

Gavin shrugged his shoulders.
 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gavin looked coolly at his father.
 
“That I hate some—more than others.”

“Well to overcome that—I want you to work with Harland Hall. I’ve already talked to the mayor about beefing up security in that part of town, so you can volunteer in his office, get to know him, and get to understand the Negro cause better.
 
Then you--”

“But--” Gavin interrupted.

“Hear me out, son. You know what I want?
 
I want
you
to be friends with Harland Hall.”

Gavin screwed up his face and his mouth dropped open.
 
“What?” Dad was talking to him like a three year old!
 
He couldn’t
make
him be friends with anybody—especially Harland Hall!

“Is he someone you--‘hate more than others’?” Ash sat back and crossed his arms while Gavin let out an angry breath.

“You can’t force me to be friends with that nigger!”
 
After saying that, his father struck him across the face.
 
The blow was so hard it made Gavin’s teeth to vibrate.
 
Ash had only slapped him one other time.
 
Gavin was thirteen then, and he’d told his father to shut up.

“You know that word’s not tolerated in this house!
 
Who got you saying it?
 
Libby Willis?”
 
When Gavin nodded, Ash pointed his finger in his son’s face.
 
“She’s nothing but trouble, boy!
 
Now you listen to me--you’re gonna make good with Harland Hall--and I’m not giving you a choice!”

Ash sat uneasily at his desk in his State House office.
 
Perspiration prickled his forehead while he rubbed his hands over two large brown envelopes he’d removed from his safe only moments earlier.
 
Both packets were filled to overflowing with what he mentally referred to as his “Harland Collection.”

The time had come.
 
Ash couldn’t put off telling the truth any longer.
 
Harland needed to know before Charlene and the kids.
 
And after Harland had accepted him as his father, then Ash would tell the rest of his family.
 
At least that’s what the game plan was at this point.

Harland was coming at 2:00, five minutes from now.
 
Ash had told him he just wanted to touch base and hear how things were going with his practice and any civil rights activities.
 
He’d already discussed the issue regarding the items found in Gavin’s car, and Harland knew the FBI was investigating a possible assassination plot because of it.
 
The mayor had assigned plain clothed Negro police officers around Harland’s office and the Negro business district.
 
Ash had hired additional security specifically for Harland’s office and apartment.
 
And Harland hadn’t argued with the increase in protection.

Today Ash would tell Harland that he’d like Gavin to work for him, perhaps just a few hours a week.
 
That’s all the spare time Gavin had now.
 
He was no longer a lifeguard.
 
Ash had procured a “real job” for him.
 
Ash would explain to Harland, that with Gavin working for him, perhaps a friendship could develop between them.
 
Then he’d get around to the truth regarding Harland’s birth.

Ash jumped when his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.
 
“Mr. Hall is here to see you sir,” she said.

“Uh—I’ll be right out, Doris.”

“Yes sir, Governor.
 
And sir, your calls have been forwarded to the main desk, since I’ll be leaving for my doctor’s appointment in a few minutes.”

“That’s fine, Doris.”
 
He hadn’t forgotten she was leaving early.
 
That was the main reason he’d scheduled Harland’s visit for now.
 
“Just—uh--tell Mr. Hall I’m on my way.”

Ash took a deep breath as he walked to the reception area.
 
Harland smiled upon seeing him.
 
Although his large frame was reminiscent of Kitty’s father, it also reminded Ash of his own father. Harland had inherited the unforgettable presence and charisma of Louis Kroth.

“Good afternoon, Governor.”

“Afternoon, Harland.”
 
They shook hands.
 
“Come on back,” Ash said as he escorted Harland to his office.
 
“I appreciate you coming by.”
 
After Ash closed his door, he motioned Harland toward a set of Queen Ann easy chairs upholstered in black velvet.
 
The large wingback chairs sat off to the side of his spacious office.
 
A mahogany coffee table with a pitcher of ice water and glasses was set up for them.
 
Although Harland sat down, Ash remained standing.
 
“Help yourself to some water.” Ash pointed to the pitcher.