Renny felt like a freshman pledge during fraternity rush week.
At his cue, Harry Smithfield rose and opened an old leather-bound book thicker than the one Renny had found in the old trunk. Reading in a monotone, he said, “The Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited, was established on November 30, 1863, by our forefathers to provide financial stability for our families as the adverse outcome of the War Between the States became apparent….”
Smithfield, a short, rotund man, recited the original language of the Covenant in a friendly voice, making it sound more like the Four Laws of Rotary International than the foundation principles of a 140-year-old secret society with untold financial fortune. “Since the time of the original signers, all successor generations of the member families have subscribed to the Covenant without break except for Alexander Hammond.” He then read the names of the current members, giving the dates each signed the List, then sat down.
LaRochette took over. “The presence of Ms. Johnston raises a question regarding current applicability of the rule of primogeniture, the exclusive right of inheritance for the eldest male heir, established in the original List agreement. I have talked to Harry, and we believe the issue needs to be brought before the group for discussion. During dinner, I mentioned this to Ms. Johnston, and she is agreeable to proceeding in this manner. She has requested the opportunity to speak first.”
Jo began, “Thank you for your hospitality to me this evening. I know it was a shock when I walked through the door.” She smiled toward Gus Eicholtz. “It seems obvious that when my father named me Jo, he did so with participation in this group in mind. However, I realize there is a question as to whether my gender disqualifies me from participation, and I want to make it clear that I am not here to try to pressure or coerce you into accepting me. Primarily, I am seeking answers to some troubling aspects of my father’s life, and my purpose is more personal than related to anything in my father’s will.”
Roget, a short, pudgy man with a receding hairline and dark eyes, cleared his throat and looked questioningly across the table at Renny.
Taking the letter from her father out of her purse, Jo unfolded it and continued, “I suppose, like all of you, I learned about the List after my father’s death. Before you discuss my status in this group, I would like to read the letter he left for me.”
The room listened in silence. When she finished, Jo took a deep breath and asked, “What can you tell me about my father’s concerns?”
Michael Flournoy, a small man with gold-rimmed glasses, spoke first in a soft, Southern voice. “Ms. Johnston, I’m not sure the answers to your questions are in this room. Once the immediate threat to our families from the war and Reconstruction subsided, the List became nothing more than a business relationship we maintain from one generation to another. We are simply a group that has found the key to the accumulation of wealth: longevity of investment. I’m sure no one in this room had ill will toward your father, and while his failure to inform us of your gender violated our mutual trust, I think it is more superstition than fact to conclude that his personal problems have a relationship to his conduct vis-à-vis this group. I don’t say this to denigrate his memory or hurt your feelings, but I believe you are seeking an honest answer, and I must give you my sincere opinion.”
Eicholtz followed on Flournoy’s heels. “Your father seems to have been burdened with guilt, a rare commodity in our day, but as Michael said, a guilt that had no foundation in fact. He mentioned God punishing him in the letter. I frankly don’t know if the Almighty cares, but if he does, I doubt he would be concerned with such a trivial offense. There are a lot more serious criminals on the loose. As I told you before dinner, Taylor Johnston saved my life. I’m sorry he allowed this issue to prevent him from being a part of my life, and I’m sorry it kept us from spending time together.”
Layne piped in, “I would ditto what Michael and Gus said. I think it is a question of misplaced emphasis. We are responsible for our future and our fate. Life is simply a matter of choices. The List is designed to help us financially and has no other significance.”
“So there is no record of unusual problems in your family backgrounds?” Jo asked.
Smithfield spoke up, “I may know more about the families of everyone in this room than anyone else. I’ve read the records of our family histories. There is a lot of tragedy in the past, but I don’t think you can give a comprehensive reason or explanation. My father died before he was forty, and I was the only one of five children to reach age twenty-one.”
Renny remembered his conversation with Aunt Margaret and the tragedies that had plagued his ancestors.
“I would say it’s just a part of Southern melancholy and malaise,” Michael Flournoy interjected dryly. “Every Southern family with roots and history has a lot of insanity in the back sitting room and illegitimate children in the woodshed.”
“What a happy thought, Michael,” Eicholtz grunted.
“There’s no way you could prove or disprove any idea or theory,” Weiss growled. “Each man is entitled to his own opinion, and everyone’s got a different one. I don’t think we are going to be able to answer Ms. Johnston’s questions. I think we are wasting our time.”
“I don’t want to waste your time, Mr. Weiss,” Jo said quickly. “I was troubled by my father’s letter, and this seemed the place to come for information.”
Weiss responded in a gentler tone, “I didn’t mean your questions are not important. I mean that we”—gesturing to the men around the table—“do not have the answers.”
“I must say Jerrod is right,” LaRochette said. “The answers to your questions do not lie in this room. We are ordinary people with ordinary problems. With all due respect to your father, I do not think his failure to tell us about you had any connection with his personal problems. As to the supernatural, we do not bring our personal religious beliefs into this meeting. We are tolerant, not coercive. All we require is that we enter into covenant with one another under the terms and guidelines set out long ago. This protects and benefits everyone. It always has and always will.”
Jo opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Thank you for your comments. I guess I will need to look elsewhere for insight.”
LaRochette took the floor. “This brings us back to the question of primogeniture and Ms. Johnston. She is willing to leave the room while we discuss this matter. Is that agreeable with everyone?”
Renny wanted to say no, but remembering his previous conversation with Jo, he kept quiet. A general nod of heads supported LaRochette’s suggestion.
Eicholtz motioned toward Renny. “I suggest young Jacobson stay since his succession to the List will be in the usual way.”
“Any problems with Gus’s recommendation?” LaRochette asked.
No one spoke.
“Fine. Mr. Jacobson, please take Ms. Johnston to the parlor adjacent to the main dining room. It would also be an appropriate time for you to bring in the original documents in your father’s possession as custodian.”
Everyone stood as Renny pulled back Jo’s chair and escorted her to the door. The parlor, down the hall from the main dining room, was furnished with a love seat and two comfortable chairs. A pair of windows overlooked the back porch, the parking area, and the bay beyond. The wind was picking up, and it was obvious the storm offshore was going to dump some rain on land before the night was over.
“This is perfect,” Jo said. “I can sit in here with my friends.”
“What friends?” Renny asked.
“The angels. They hang around with me,” she said, laughing as Renny rolled his eyes.
“I think you might be an angel,” Renny responded. “However, we don’t have time to debate about angels. What do you want to happen in there?”
“That’s not the question, Renny. The question is, what do you want to do?”
“But you’re the reason for the discussion. What do you want me to say on your behalf?”
“Nothing. I’ve sa
id what I wanted to say. I know what I am supposed to do.”
“What is that?”
“I’m not saying, but listen to what they say about me with your own situation in mind.”
“Why should I do that?”
“So you can get a clearer picture of what is really going on here.”
“It seems simple enough.”
“Really?”
“Don’t be so obscure,” Renny said with a hint of frustration. “I understand what is going on in the meeting better than I do this conversation.” “There are some powerful forces in that room, and I don’t know where they are coming from.”
Jo was not making any sense, and he didn’t want to keep the other men waiting any longer. “Well, I’ve got to go. I need to get the trunk from my room.”
“I’ll say this much,” Jo said slowly and deliberately. “If you don’t know what to do, I would say don’t do anything.”
“OK. I’ve got to get the trunk. I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be here,” Jo said as Renny turned to go.
Renny bounded up the stairs in an effort to release the tension he felt. Angels, family tragedies, riches, powerful forces. What was going on? Why was an intelligent, twenty-six-year-old woman acting this way? Who could know if there was a “right” thing to do? Reaching his room, he entered and grabbed the trunk. The old clerk glanced up as he passed by the desk with the old box in his arms. Opening the door, he reentered the dining room.
Layne had lit a pipe. Eicholtz was puffing a huge cigar, and LaRochette snuffed out a cigarette as Renny came into the room. Every man had pushed his chair back from the table.
LaRochette motioned for Renny to bring the trunk to the head of the table. Renny deposited it at LaRochette’s feet.
“Let’s have a quick look inside,” the old man said eagerly.
Before Renny could offer to help, LaRochette leaned over, quickly twirled the lock, and popped it open.
“You know the combination?” Renny blurted out.
LaRochette didn’t answer. He took out the old book, and, oblivious to Renny, he held it reverently, opening it to glance at the first few pages before quickly turning the signature pages. “Good, good,” he said. “Thank you for delivering this treasure.”
Addressing the group, he said, “Gentlemen, everything seems to be in order. Let’s proceed.”
Turning to Renny, who had returned to his seat, he continued, “While you were out of the room, we decided it best to proceed with your acceptance onto the List as the first order of business. That way you can participate in our other discussions as a full member.”
Renny met LaRochette’s gaze and felt slightly lightheaded. Forgetting about the sheet of questions in his pocket or his comment to Jo that he would wait until her status was decided to make his own decision, he said, “All right.”
Smithfield took over. “Since your father was custodian, I’m sure you’ve had opportunity to look over the documents in the trunk. Particularly, have you read the original Covenant List agreement?”
Shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the fuzziness and sense of detachment he felt, Renny heard himself answer, “Yes sir.” Too much dinner wine.
“Good,” Smithfield said. “All you need to do is verbally acknowledge and submit to the terms of the List agreement and agree to covenants of secrecy, truthfulness, and mutual security.”
Renny nodded. He felt a little queasy and desperately thought this would be a very inappropriate time to throw up.
LaRochette’s voice penetrated the haze and nausea. “If everyone would stand, please. Josiah Fletchall Jacobson, come forward.”
LaRochette’s command was nonnegotiable. As he walked to the head of the table, Renny took a couple of deep breaths, hoping the extra oxygen would quiet the turbulence in his stomach and clear his head. Flournoy and Roget moved to the front as well.
LaRochette opened the List to the faded ink agreement. “Please put your right hand here and repeat after me.”
Renny had never had an out-of-body experience. He’d never fallen on his head as a child, choked on a chicken bone, or been knocked unconscious in a car wreck—the type of events commonly known to trigger the reported sensation of “watching” yourself from outside your body. Not until now. On the way to the head of the table, he became detached from himself and saw his body standing before LaRochette. The air seemed heavy, almost thick, and Renny’s physical activities went on autopilot. He numbly watched himself repeat the words intoned by LaRochette while his hand rested on the faded black ink.
“I, Josiah Fletchall Jacobson, the eldest legal heir of Henry Lawrence Jacobson, hereby enter into covenant under the terms and conditions of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited. I bind myself and my heirs by the terms of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited, and receive on behalf of my family all the rights and benefits arising out of said Covenant. So help me God.”
As he spoke, the nausea left. “I further agree and covenant with the current and future members of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited, to keep existence of the said Covenant confidential and inviolate from all persons. I further agree and covenant to conduct myself with complete truthfulness and for the purpose of mutual security and benefit as outlined and contemplated in the Covenant List. So help me God.”
“Sign here,” LaRochette said as Roget put a quill pen in Renny’s hand. Someone had written in fresh ink an entry notation in the old ledger book.
The undersigned, eldest legal heir of Henry Lawrence Jacobson, hereby enters into covenant under the terms and conditions of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited.
Renny watched himself sign his name on the blank line.
LaRochette looked to Flournoy, who produced a small knife with an intricately carved ivory handle and handed it to LaRochette.
“For millennia, binding covenants have been sealed with blood. Blood represents life, and your life, as was that of your father, grandfather, and others of the Jacobson line, is joined with our lives and our families in an irrevocable bond of support and cooperation. Let me have your left hand, please.”
Renny watched himself hesitate, and then he was back in his body, looking into LaRochette’s eyes. He did not try to resist LaRochette’s compelling gaze and slowly extended his left hand, palm up. LaRochette took his hand, mumbled something in a language Renny took to be French, and pricked Renny’s ring finger with the point of the dagger.
Renny flinched but felt no pain. LaRochette pressed the bleeding flesh to the page next to Renny’s signature. It left a bright red spot below all the dark brown and black ones that preceded it.
“Here, here,” Renny heard Layne’s voice.
The air cleared, and Renny was again fully himself. He commanded his left index finger to wiggle, and it obeyed instantly. LaRochette shook Renny’s hand warmly. Beginning with Flournoy, Roget, and Smithfield, the other men filed by, dutifully welcoming him to the fraternity of the List.
Renny felt a euphoria that erased the confusion and nausea experienced just moments before. It must have been the pent-up tension. Now that the ceremony was over, he could shift back into normal gear. He returned to his seat, a member of the elite group.
LaRochette said, “Let’s move to our next item of business. I have asked Harry to give some brief background on Ms. Johnston’s status. Then we will open the floor for discussion.”
Smithfield remained seated while he spoke. “I have looked over the historical records and find, as we suspected, no instance where a woman served, even briefly, as a member of the List. Taylor Johnston had no male heirs, and he expressed his desire in his will for his daughter to take his family’s place on the List. As we all know, the rule established in the original Covenant mandates succession only to the eldest son. If we change the rule, it will require a change in the Covenant.”
“We c-c-can do what we w-w-want,” Bart Maxwell stuttered. “We m-m-make the rules.”
“I think we need to res
pect what our forefathers decided,” Roget interrupted before Bart could generate a head of stuttering steam. “If we change the rules, we lose stability. Next, someone will want younger sons or relatives outside the direct family line to inherit. A sure rule has served us well, and I don’t want to change it. You heard what Ms. Johnston said. She didn’t seem overly interested in subscribing to the Covenant.”
“She doesn’t know how much money is involved,” Michael Flournoy said. “Money has a way of persuading.”
“How much money is involved?” Renny blurted out.
LaRochette raised his eyebrows and looked to Roget. “Robert is our treasurer. Would you address that issue?”
Roget looked condescendingly at Renny as he spoke, “We are doing very well, very well indeed. We will have a financial report later, but for now, we need to focus on Ms. Johnston.”
Renny wanted to punch Roget in the nose. He didn’t like the man and felt he was being treated like a kindergartner. But he kept his mouth shut and relieved the tension by clenching and unclenching his hand under the table.
“I think we ought to let her join,” Gus Eicholtz said bluntly. “I’m sorry for all her father must have gone through worrying about this issue. If he had brought it up while he was alive, I think we would have told him not to worry, that his daughter would be welcome. I think it is the only sensible thing to do. There is plenty of money for everyone, and the purpose of preserving family involvement seems more important to me than whether a male or female serves as family representative. I mean, look at Margaret Thatcher. She was the best leader Europe’s produced in the past twenty-five years.”
“That raises another concern I have,” said Roget. “What if we ended up with a majority of women? Would we want women to control the List? Can we count on women to maintain secrecy? It’s just not in them to keep a confidence. As it is, we have always been able to run this group without female intervention, interference, or intuition.”
The List Page 12
