The Governor's Sons (28 page)

“Libby’s here,” Otis said, sounding like a teenager in love.

Gavin didn’t let on that Leona had already mentioned that.

“Libby, come on out here,” Otis yelled.

A few seconds later, Libby walked from the kitchen.
 
She wasn’t really that young, but she was younger than Uncle Otis.
 
Gavin guessed her to be around 35; a spinster schoolteacher that looked the part.
 
Her eyes were gray behind pointed tortoise shell glasses.
 
Thick brown bangs covered her forehead and she wore her chin length hair uncurled.
 
Her face had an oval shape with a small nose and thin lips.
 
Flat chested and hipless, a simple gray dress hung unflatteringly on her skinny frame. She wasn’t ugly, but Gavin didn’t believe another female existed that could be more non-descript.

“Gavin, it’s always good to see you.” A mountain twang flavored Libby’s speech.

“Let’s us all have a sit down.”
 
Otis motioned toward the cluttered living area.
 
A battered chair and couch lay beyond his inventions.

After walking through Otis’s minefield of gadgets, Gavin plopped down comfortably in the brown chair while Otis and Libby sat opposite him on the matching couch. From each piece of furniture, visible tufts of stuffing burst from the seams.

“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?”

“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 changed 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?”