NOT IN THE STARS BUT IN OURSELVES
When last we left Richard Blaine, he was wondering how he had been transported into a landing craft heading to Omaha Beach.
Let's be like the enigmatic Sentient and hurl his essence to the moment after his deadly meeting with the psychotic orphan, "Bent" Murcham back in pre-war New Orleans.
(For the details of that encounter and its mysterious aftermath, you will have to wait until my novel comes out.)
"Actions are the seeds of fate. Deeds grow into destiny." - Harry S. Truman
THE LOSTGOSPELS OF JOHN THE LION
“Theworld is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, butbecause of the people who don't do anything about it.” – AlbertEinstein
The new Headmistress, MissTethers, looked pretty much the opposite of her name as she daggered me with astern look.
“How manyof your fellow orphans do you intend on killing, Mr. Blaine?”
I triedto look relaxed in the stiff-backed chair facing her scuffed desk. “I’m surethe Police Commissioner told you it was suicide.”
“I didnot vote for him because I did not believe him then … or now.”
Shedismissed the subject with an angry wave of her hand. “Be that as it may, it hasbeen brought to my attention that you did not spend last night in thedormitory. That is two nights in a row. Where did you sleep, the library?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
“Yourclothes look fresh.”
“I havestashes hidden here and there throughout the orphanage.”
“You arereally certain that your fellow orphans would kill you in your sleep?”
Now, thatquestion might strike you as odd. But not here at St. Marok’s. Here, life onlymattered if its loss had significance in its consequences … say like witnessesor no food on the table. One less orphan meant more food in a place where therewas never enough.
The lawyou ask. In this part of the French Quarter there was no law. The Depressionhadn’t gone anywhere. Everyone here was scrambling for a loose piece of changeor something to pawn for much, much less than it was worth.
One lookthrough the bars of this place at the ragged, starving orphans told anyone withany sense that there was nothing worth stealing here. Those too stupid or too desperatewho climbed over the gate at night were not missed when they never returned.
Stupid,desperate thieves contributed nothing to be missed.
Iactually felt Miss Tethers impatient stare. I sighed and cleared my throat. Idecided to tell her the truth.
“Not withoutHeadmaster Stearns to frighten them, ma’am. No disrespect meant for you, butyou have as yet given them a reason to fear you.”
Shenodded thoughtfully. “Truth to say, Mr. Blaine, I do not feel safe enoughmyself to spend the night in Stearns’ quarters. In fact, I have not evenentered them. I do not need to what with my own home to which to return.”
A strangescent suddenly filled the room. I later learned it to be cherry blossoms mixedwith pineapple. And yes, it had to do with the Voice.
MissTethers twisted in her padded chair, opened a drawer with an ornate set ofkeys, and reached in. She straightened and tossed me an antique-looking goldkey.
“Here!You may spend the nights in his quarters.”
As Istarted to protest, she snapped “I cannot have you spending the nights in thelibrary. I will not have Miss Mayfair’s reputation sullied by her stumblinginto the library with you sleeping in it. It might lead to talk that you andshe spent the evenings there as well.”
And thatwas how an orphan got his very own room in an orphanage … along with a lifelongenemy. Oddly enough, I also played chess with this one, too. I didn’t let himwin though. Merde. It was hard enough just to win honestly against him.
I knowwhat you’re thinking. If I had an I.Q. of 400, how could that be? It is worsethan you think. I came to believe that it was him that was letting mewin. Of course, me being me, it was worse than even that.
He hadn’tbeen playing chess with me at all … but with the Voice.
Goes toshow you that there is a difference in being intelligent and in being smart. Intelligenceis what you know, understanding is what you do, and wisdom is what you become. Whatdid Steven Leacock write: Life, we learn too late, is in the living, thetissue of every day and hour.
Life islike a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism. The way you playit is free will.
All inall, I should have kept on sleeping in the library.
Besides,I like libraries. It makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls ofwords, beautiful and wise, all around me. I always feel better when I can seethat there is something to hold back the shadows.
There wasa sharp rap on Tethers’ door. Without being asked to come in, Sister Amealwalked in promptly as if she had been invited.
She fixedme with her arsenic blue eyes like a hawk sizing up a poor field mouse for apossible snack. “Mr. Blaine, how many more orphans are you going to sendto their eternal damnation?”
There wasno point trying to explain to her about the Voice taking control of my bodywhen I didn’t even know how it had been done myself. “As few as possible,sister.”
“Zeromore is the right answer, young sir.”
Shejerked her brilliantly white habit to the door. “Now, get up. I will walk youto the library once again to make sure that there are no further deaths. But donot expect this to become habitual. I actually have important rounds to make inthis parish.”
“I expectnothing.”
I snorted,“Maybe that’s why I usually get it.”
“At leastyou are never disappointed.”
Ishrugged. “The ‘nothings’ in life are merely steps on the path. Youaccept them and move on.”
“To the next‘nothing’?”
I shookmy head. “You read me all wrong. Everyone does. No big deal. I’m used to it.”
I took adeep breath. “When you expect nothing from the world - not the light of thesun, the wet of the morning mist, nor the air to breathe - everything is awonder and every moment a gift.”
Sister Ameal stopped and studied me for a longmoment. “Then, you are truly free. You ask nothing, expect nothing, depend onnothing … and so you have everything."“There'snowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be...”
― JohnLennon
