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There was a flurry of excitement at Bob’s apartment the morning of Thanksgiving. Lucy had announced the day before that Robert McIver was throwing a last-minute Thanksgiving dinner at his house.
“You’re sure it’s okay to bring my parents?” asked Bob.
“I am sure. He and Rosa want everybody there,” said Lucy.
“Wow. Should be fun, and they probably have a big enough table, too. Look at ours – we don’t even have enough chairs. Hey look, do you like my new chair?”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” said Franck. “And you put the easy chair over by the window.”
Franck and Dawn made plans to bring their instruments and play a few tunes, especially “Turkey in the Straw.”
Bob’s parents arrived from their motel bearing gifts. They were glowing with anticipation. One was a beautiful sweater Molly had knit for Lucy.
“We’ve heard so much about you, dear,” said Molly. “It’s such a thrill to meet you. I’ve been in touch with your mother, and she’s such a sweetheart.”
“You have?” muttered Gary. “First I’ve heard of it.” But then he brightened and hugged Lucy. “It’s very nice to meet you. Bob sounds very happy to know you, and that makes us happy too.”
“It’s a beautiful sweater, thank you so much!” Lucy exclaimed.
“We couldn’t very well use it in Florida,” Bob’s father joked gruffly and quietly.
“And for you, Bob, a new shaver and hair grooming kit, you know, for those out-of-the-way places,” said his mother cheerfully. “You want to keep looking nice for Lucy, don’t you?” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah, just what I wanted, thanks, Mom,” Bob said half-heartedly. “You know Franck, and I want to introduce you to his girlfriend Dawn.”
“Oh, Franck! We brought you a book. About the Underground Railway,” said Molly. “Bob told me you had an interest.”
“Well, thank you!” said Franck. “Actually, I do.”
There were greetings all around, and as Lucy, Dawn and Bob’s parents got talking, Franck took Bob aside and they walked together into Franck's room.
“There’s something we can’t forget, Bob,” said Franck. From under the pile of clothes on top of his dresser, he pulled out the box, and the old newspaper, and held it out.
“Right,” said Bob. “Maybe we can return it today."
"I know I need to do that."
"I hope you can explain, Franck.”
“I’ll try. But there’s more, Bob. This is about your family too. Maybe your Dad should hear about it. Maybe he should read these letters.”
“You’re right,” Bob said. He took a breath. “You're right. Let’s take it in.”
Bob and Franck carried the box and newspaper into the living room. The others stopped to watch them, sensing from their little procession and somber faces that something important was taking place.
They placed the box on the table.
“Dad, we have something here from the McIver house, and it’s going to be returned today. There’s a lot to tell you. First of all, we’re all going over to the McIver house for Thanksgiving. Robert and Rosa want us all there.”
“Did you say Rosa would be there?” asked Bob’s mother.
“Yes, she was very excited you might be coming,” said Lucy.
“Oh, I’m thrilled to go. I was going to help cook our turkey, but I’m sure Rosa and I can cook up a feast! I’d better get over there right away!”
“This newspaper might interest you, Dad. It’s from 1858. Here’s an article about Josiah McIver going off to be a missionary in Asia.”
"McIver?" said Gary. He took the old paper in hand carefully and read the article Bob pointed out to him.
“It’s so old, and all torn up here,” said his father.
“That ripped part there,” said Franck, “that’s where the key was. To this box.”
Bob explained briefly to his father that the box had been found in the McIver house attic. He left out the bit about Franck breaking in.
They opened the box. The apartment grew quiet as Gary and Molly read of the slave Moses’ efforts to save his pregnant sister by getting her to the boat, about his fighting in the Civil War and surviving the hospital, only to pass away before seeing Lutetia again, and her little boy, the new Moses. They read Lutetia's letter telling how she came to the house via the Underground Railway, pregnant, and met up again with Josiah and secretly married him. And the part about the McIver who came on to her and met up with the blunt end of an empty whisky bottle. Bob’s father started when he read the familiar epithet “den of sinners,” which had been hurled at Lutetia by the 19th century Robert McIver as he fled from her house. Franck explained that Lutetia's letter had never been signed or sent because of Samuel's letter, and he showed Bob's parents Samuel's somber notice that Lutetia's brother had died.
“Julie found out that this Robert McIver was Registrar of Deeds at the time, and head of the church’s executive committee. She also learned that about that time, they moved their church to take over and expand one of the old churches on Port Haven Green downtown. They started using a parsonage house belonging to that church, and that freed up this one for Josiah. Or really, for Lutetia.”
“Julie found this out for you? Oh, how is Julie?” said Molly.
“She’s fine, Mom. She helped me out researching some things. She’s a good friend.”
Bob’s father burst out laughing in a way Bob had never heard before.
“Do you know what happens,” said his father, “if you lock a door in the house and keep everyone out? Everyone wants nothing more than to go in there. It haunts you. Well, this is like opening that door in our family. It’s a breath of fresh air. I never thought I’d ever learn about this.”
“Dad, you realize that Robert of the old days might not have been such a nice guy. It looks like he might even have sent Josiah away so he could get closer to Lutetia.”
“Like King David did with that, that husband of the woman he wanted. That’s an old trick,” said Molly.
“Well, she smashed his head with a bottle, I don't think he cared for that, did he?” said Bob. “I wonder if that whole thing wasn’t the humiliation that kept the two families apart all these years. All it takes is one strong voice to keep the others from trying to find anything out.”
“You might be right, Bob. You might be right. There were always rumors of sins and slaves and how we weren’t supposed to associate with those people – if they even existed. We were led to think it was all a fairy tale. Well, no family’s perfect, and ours has more than its share of characters. Let’s say it’s a colorful family!”
“That’s for sure,” said Lucy. “We have more colors than most!”
“Come on, guys, let’s head over to the house,” said Franck. “On second thought, do you guys mind if Dawn and I go first? I want to return this box myself, and, somehow, apologize, I guess, for taking it, before all the merriment begins.”
No one minded. Molly got on the phone to Rosa to make plans for how she could help. Lucy collected the food and dishes they were contributing to dinner, and went into Bob’s room to get dressed.
Bob and his father got talking about family stories and about the New England Patriots. They talked about the newest cellphone, which Gary had been reading about.
“Not interested,” said Bob. “Maybe it’s so new to you that it doesn’t lose its shine. Me, I have a cellphone and the last thing I want is to be tied in, 24/7, in dazzling color with a keyboard and internet and TV, all linked up to anybody and everybody’s whim, to call me, text me, twitter me, link me, send pictures. I want real people, real things, like … hey, I forgot to tell you. I’ve got an audition.”
“What did you say? You’re getting audited? Do you need some help?” said his father.
“No, no, no. Not an audit. An audition. I’m trying out for a part in a musical. The Port Haven Players are doing Carousel."
"Well, that's … different," said his father. "Do you think you can … get up in front of people and all that? Can you sing? I didn't know you could sing."
Bob laughed. "Well I'm a little nervous about it, but I can't wait."
"Seems like a waste of time to me. But if it's fun for you, no harm done."
"Look, it's real. Real people working as a team to sing real music for real listeners. It's about touching, moving, coordinating everything. Great story, characters, songs. Better than staring at a screen and reading half-baked thoughts in emails and texts."
"I'd rather read a true story in the papers or follow it as it's happening on TV."
"The day the TV news anchors start singing the news, maybe I'll start watching," laughed Bob. "How many of those stories are true anyway? Do you personally know even .001% of the people you follow in the news? Half of what you get is just somebody's opinion about somebody else's opinion anyway."
"You've got to participate, son. You've got to know what's going on in the world. If you don't know what's going on, they'll put something over on you every time."
"What do you say we see what's going on in the world over at the McIver's house?" said Bob.
"That sounds funny, doesn't it? Going over to the McIvers? That's ourselves." Bob's dad sighed, and got up heavily. He chuckled as he saw the mail on the table. "That surely is an unfortunate name," he said.
"What, McIver?"
"No, that name there. On the letter. Fondler! I'd hate to have that name."
"Hmm. Letter for Franck. From a Mr Nicholas Fondler. I guess he hasn't seen it yet. I'll tell him. Let's head on over, everybody."