The Garden Club by James Gerard (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📖

o’clock has been postponed.  From the information released by Jeffrey Hayes, his public relations director, the Governor fell violently ill earlier this morning, but the cause of the illness has been undetermined at this time.  According to Mr. Hayes, he was rushed to Corporate Memorial Hospital by air transport.  A hospital’s spokesperson released a statement stating that although the doctors suspect food poisoning as the cause of the sudden illness, this has yet to be confirmed.  In the meantime, as we understand, no further statement will be issued by either the hospital or Mr. Hayes.

 

“Wow,” whispered Hal.

 

The car phone rang.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Hal,” the voice whispered.

 

“Kenneth?”

 

“I’ve been trying to call you.  Where’s your cell phone?”

 

“I….”

 

“It doesn’t matter.  Look, about last….”

 

“What about it,” Hal interrupted.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Hal was surprised, for the realization that he was the one that threw out all the negative words exchanged between them was made clear by the memory still fresh in the mind.  An apology was the last thing he expected. 

 

“No Kenneth, I’m sorry.  I know I let you down.  You didn’t take any heat for this did you?”

 

“Of course not.  Can’t you get it through your head that we weren’t interested in the land?” 

 

But….”

 

“Just forget about it Hal.  Say, why don’t you come over and have a beer.”

 

“Did you hear the news about the Governor?”

 

“Yeah, but don’t worry about that.  Now come on over.”

 

“Ah, I don’t know….”

 

“Just get your sorry self over here.  I have something to show you.”

 

“What?”

 

“My new aircraft.”

 

“New?  Is that what Carol meant by you having a new toy?”

 

“Yes.  Now you got to see this thing Hal.  Get over here.”

 

“Sure, but first let me go home and shower and change.  I’ll be there in a little bit.”

 

As Hal drove home, the weight of his indecision along with the morning events that had unfolded and made heavier by the exhaustion caused by the absence of sleep the past few nights was lifting.  Regardless of such circumstances, a renewed sense of hope began to lighten the load further.   He could not exactly pinpoint the source of optimism, but felt it laid somewhere in the postponement of the news conference.

 

“That could never happen to the Governor,” he whispered.  “Maybe it’s his way of delaying the decision.  Maybe to give me an opportunity to present an argument against the park’s demise one more time.”  And yet while he had witnessed the expedient actions of the Board of Realtors in jumping ahead in the park’s destruction, the news did not mention, neither did Kenneth for that matter, that they had begun the demolition.

 

“Maybe they haven’t.   Maybe they were ordered to cease.”   Now Hal played around with the idea that the decision was already made, but the sale had not been secured by all the official paperwork.  And if that were the case, there was a slim chance the decision could be overturned.

 

Yes, he thought, I’ll call from Kenneth’s house and restate my position.  I’m sure he’ll understand.

 

Hal hopped into the car and raced to the apartment.  In a matter of minutes the car came to a stop in a parking space at the complex.  He instantly noticed the absence of the usual morning activities that usually buzzed throughout the apartment building by those unwinding from graveyard shifts.  For some reason, he concluded, the earth shattering volume of music blasting from the open windows all around was subdued, and the frantic folly of toddlers scampering about was unseen.

 

Stepping into the hallway, even the first floor units that were usually filled with the sounds blasting from televisions, clanging of pots and pans from kitchens, and water running through the shambles that was called plumbing pipes, was also on the quiet side.

 

Reaching the unit, Hal searched for the keys tucked deeply in a pocket but then  stopped.  He pressed an ear to the door and listened carefully to anyone who might be creeping about within.  No such stirrings were heard.  The key was slowly pushed in the keyhole and gently twisted.  The door was nudged open.

 

Before tapping the light switch, eyes scanned the dark room but no one could be seen creeping about.  Still not sure, he took hold of the steel pole leaning against the door frame and tiptoed towards the closet.  The door swung open; no one was lurking inside.

 

The light flickered in response to the slap of the sensor.   He looked to the closet and noticed the neatly pressed work clothes filling most of the space.  “Hmm, maybe I’ll need them after all.”  The clothes were pushed aside revealing a pair of slacks and polo shirt, which were then promptly undraped from the hangars and tossed to the bed.

 

The body and mind suddenly were in agreement as pure fatigue led to visions of the tattered mattress offering rest.  Thinking about the future, however, Hal was hit with a flow of energy.  A smile appeared as the photograph of his estranged wife came into view.  Finding the backup phone tucked away in one of the desk’s drawers, a finger tapped in the number held securely in the heart.

 

“Hello,” a sweet voice answered.

 

“Hi.”

 

Silence.

 

Hal ached to say something, anything beyond the mere greeting, but apparently it was not to be.  He figured she still had no interest in him whatsoever, but found it comforting that she at least allowed a single word to be spoken.

 

The thought of calling the Governor came into mind, but was just stopped short.  The logic of calling from Kenneth’s phone was a call that could not be rejected.  Kenneth's phone was the better choice.  

 

The hot cascading water from the shower head was invigorating.  He mused over just how to go about broaching the subject.  “Oh no sir, first of all I meant that it should be used much more than just a garden club.  You have to consider the other plans.  They should be incorporate into the design.  You see sir, by looking at the monthly revenue reports, you can see people are growing in their interests in the park.  If they want to build a few houses or put up an air processor or two, then who am I to stop them.  They can also set up manufacturing plants for meat or other things.  You see sir, there is room enought for a garden club and other uses that will produce lots of revenue.  He’ll understand.  He has to.”

 

Freshly showered and shaved, Hal hopped in the car and headed out onto the highway.  And although traffic was heavy as usual, the congestion was no point of contention.

 

Coming up to the Ardath exit, a foot eased off the accelerator and then smoothly applied the brakes.   Eyes stared ahead.  Hal held the gaze firmly at the entrance ahead.

 

“Good Morning Mr. Wilson.  It is good to see you again.”

 

Hal looked at the familiar face, but was taken aback by the warm smile and endearing politeness.  The newfound respect must have risen from Kenneth’s advanced warning.

 

“I’m here to see Kenneth Wilson.”

 

“Of course sir.”  The guard flashed a hand signal and the gate opened.  “Have a good day sir.”

 

“A good day to you as well.”

 

Driving along the same route, Hal passed by the same row of lavish establishments and ignored the light mocking from those that viewed the shiny red van as one tailored for the common folk. But what he could not ignore was the apprehension once arriving at Kenneth’s estate.

 

Standing outside the door feeling uncomfortable, he rang the doorbell.  Anxiety rushed in with the expectation that Kenneth would speak disparaging words concerning the disappointment.

 

“Good Morning sir.  Please come in.”

 

“He’s out on the pad,” said Carol as she passed by the entryway.

 

Hal looked around for Martha but did not see her peeking out from behind any chairs or sofas.  Then a sound of a sniffle revealed her location.

 

“I think I’ll look behind the sofa,” said Hal.

 

All of a sudden Martha jumped out from behind then dashed toward the kitchen.

 

Hal reached out and snagged her then corralled her into his arms.  “Gottcha.”

 

“Let me go,” cried Martha trying to push herself free.

 

“Am I going to have to tickle you?”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Hey sweetie, are you feeling sad?”

 

Martha just stared at the floor.

 

“Martha,” called Carol from the kitchen, “come here.”

 

Hal released her and she went flying to her mother.  He was disturbed by the behavior.  It had to be more than what his job was that was making her act the way she did. 

 

Reaching the pad, a small jet came into view.  Its configuration was a sight of curiosity.  The material making up its fuselage sparkled.  The wings were broad yet short.  Each side supported the engines that provided both the power to lift the jet off the ground then thrust it speedily ahead to level flight.  The sleek body contained a roomy cockpit framed with windows, and its nose stretched out more so than the one that Kenneth had previously owned. 

 

“What’s the deal with Martha?  I thought you were going to talk to her?”

 

“Forget about that,” said Kenneth.  “Well, what do you think?”

 

“Impressive.  Dad would be amazed.”  He hopped onto a wing and laughed.   “Nice.  You guys are just too outrageous at times.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“Come on, even you have admit you'll mostly use this for work.”

 

“Well that and other uses.”

 

Kenneth hopped up on the other wing and stepped into the cockpit.  “Hop in.”

 

Hal looked lovingly at the instrument panel.  “Easy to fly?”

 

“Sure.  Push this button to activate the engines.   The navigator is here," said Kenneth as he pointed to another console, "where you feed in the location of where you want to go.  The floor pedals control the vertical landing and takeoff.  Once you’re in the air, the global positioning system takes over and you just sit back and relax.”

 

Hal wondered why Kenneth not only needed the jet, but why he would want one that basically flew itself.  From what he had always related about his days as a navy pilot, it was too much a thrill to fly by the seat of his pants.  The excitement of engaging in dogfights was made possible with instinct.  Kenneth thought a computer only hindered the aerobatic maneuvers needed to blow the enemy to bits.   Hal even considered that their father, who had basically flown at a time when computers in the cockpit were nothing more than costly time pieces, would himself be disappointed in Kenneth’s choice.

 

“Well, show me how it works.”

 

“Watch,” said Kenneth as a finger approached a screen on the center console displaying a map of the United States.  “Tap on California, then San Diego, La Jolla, La Jolla Village Drive, Shores Drive, and my house.”

 

“That easy?”

 

“That easy.”

 

Hal stared at the console and pointed at the digital display showing lines marked off in increments of a hundred.  He reached out to poke the screen.

 

“Careful,” said Kenneth, “don’t mess around with that.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

 

Hal pointed to the various digital displays.  He listened as Kenneth explained the functions of the instruments that had been developed prior to the war to end all wars and ones that had been perfected since.  At the same time, his brother took the time to list the features of the different functions.   A sense of relief fell upon Hal.  It became obvious that Kenneth really did not care about the land at all, and although there may have been a remnant of disappointment remaining, it seemed insignificant for him to mention.  Once secured that all was forgotten and forgiven, the objective of the strategy came to mind. 

 

“Kenneth, I’d like to call the Governor if you don’t mind.”

 

“I doubt they’ll let you talk to him.”

 

“But if I call from your phone they dare not say no.”

 

“What’s wrong with you Hal?  He’s in a coma for god’s sake.”  Kenneth then tapped another panel to activate a radio:

 

…and as we understand, there will be no replacement.

 

“What’s this about?” asked Hal.

 

“Quiet.”

 

…to repeat, Governor Hartson died early this morning from what doctors are now confirming as a case of poisoning….

 

“Poisoning!” uttered Hal.

 

Kenneth smiled.  “Those bastards.  They killed them using the bananas.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Purposely poisoned.”

 

“What did they do Kenneth?”

 

“They sent someone down to the hotel to slip in the other synergetic agent.”

 

“What?”

 

“They laced his coffee with the other poisoning agent, and then when taken with the other