To Sail Beyond The Sunset: The Life and Loves of Maureen Johnson

Chapter 20 - Soothsayer

‘Priscilla, you have not yet admitted to yourself that you can't marry your brother. Until you realise that, right down in your gizzard, you aren't mature enough to start courting no matter how grown up your body is. But you must not try to interfere with Donald's right to a-wooing go.'

‘But I love him!'

‘What do you mean by "love"?'

‘Oh, you're just being mean to me!'

‘Quit blubbering and try to behave like a grown woman. I want you to tell me what you mean by the word "love". That you are horny about him, so hot for him that you would couple with him behind any bush if he would let you, I will concede. It doesn't surprise me; I find him just as attractive, he's as pretty as a collie pup. But I have more sense about it than you have. Any woman is going to find Donald sexually attractive; if you try to keep other women away from him, you'll be piling up more grief for yourself than you will ever be able to handle.

‘But being in sexual heat over a man is not love, my sweet daughter. I am willing to believe that Donald loves you as he stood up to three muggers to protect you. But tell me what you mean when you say that you love him... other than your hot pants - an irrelevant concurrent phenomenon.'

‘Uh... everybody knows what love is!'

‘If you can't define a word, you don't know what it means. Priscilla, this is a fruitless discussion and today is a busy day. We have established that you have hot pants over Donald. We have established that Donald loves you but we have not established that you love him. And I have pointed out what all of us know, that you can't marry your brother... which your brother has conceded but you are not willing to admit. So we'll continue this discussion on some later date when you've grown up a bit.' I stood up.

‘But - Mama, what do you mean by "love"?'

‘"Love" means a number of things but it always means that the other person's happiness and welfare come first. Come, let's get bathed and dressed, so -‘

The telephone sounded. I said, ‘Catch it, will you, Donald?'

‘Yes, mum; thank'ee, mum.' The screen was in the living room; Donald went there still carrying Princess Polly in his left arm. He flipped the switch. ‘Start talking; it's your money.'

I heard Susan's voice. ‘Mama, I - Polly! Oh, you bad, bad girl!'

Polly turned up her nose, wiggled and jumped down, and stalked away. I must add that she had never taken any interest in telephone images and voices. I think it may have been the lack of living odour but I must admit that feline reasoning is not for mortal man to comprehend. Or woman.

Donald said, ‘Susie, am I going to have to show you the strawberry mark on my shoulder? I'm your brother, Mrs Schultz, the handsome one. How's married life? Boring?'

‘Married life is just dandy and what are you doing in Kansas City and why didn't you come four days ago for my wedding and where's Mother?'

‘Mama is around here somewhere and you didn't invite me.'

‘I did so!'

I moved in. ‘Yes, you did invite him, Sweet Sue, and all the rest of his family, all eight. Nine. But only Brian was able to come, as you know, so don't needle Donald. Good to see you, dear. How is Henry?'

‘Oh, Hanky's all right. He says I can't cook the way you do but that he has decided to keep me for other reasons - I rub ‘his back.'

‘That's a good reason:

‘So he says. Mama, I called for mo reasons... and the first reason no longer applies. I've been screwing up my courage since Sunday to tell you that I lost Princess Polly. And now she's not lost. How did she get there?'

‘I don't know. How did you lose per?'

‘I'm not sure. We were all the way to Olathe before we found a filling-station that also serviced Shipstones. While Hank was trading his stone for a fully charged one, I opened Polly's cage to change per sand box - she had made a mess and the dragon wagon was stinking.

Tm not clear just what happened then. I thought that I saw per back in. Hank says that I told him it was all right to let her ride free in the back. Anyhow we left and picked up the control road at Olathe and Hank turned it over to the bug, and we eased back the seats and went right to sleep. Oh, we were tired!'

‘I'll bet you were!' I agreed, thinking about my own wedding.

‘The alarm woke us when we reached Wichita and we were just getting our baggage out at the Holiday Inn when I saw that Polly was missing. Mama, I almost had a heart attack.'

‘What did you do?'

‘What could we do? We turned around and rolled back to Olathe. And the station was closed. And we played kitty, kitty, here, Polly! for a half-hour and the station owner's name was on the building and we asked a policeman and found his house and woke him and he wasn't pleased.'

‘I find myself unsurprised.'

‘But, yes, he had seen a little black and white cat, about the time we were there, but not later, which means she wasn't there all the time it took us to drive four hundred miles. So we left your telecode and asked him to call you if she showed up and we started back to Wichita but the bug quit and we took turns keeping each other awake while we rode the wire by hand... or we would have had to get on to a slow road. Just the same it was three in the morning by the time we got to Wichita again and they hadn't held our room and we slept in the car till morning. Mama, it was not the most successful wedding night on record. I think Hanky was ready to toss me back... and I wouldn't have blamed him.'

‘Are things better now?'

‘Oh, yes! But - Finding Princess Polly at home raises another point.'

‘Do you want me to ship per to you?'

Susan suddenly stopped smiling. ‘Mama... pets are not permitted in married students' dormitories. I didn't know. So I guess we got to go out into Tempe and find us somewhere else to live... and I'm not sure we can afford it. You won't let her stay there? Yes, she's my cat, but - Please?'

Susan, I'm selling this house today.'

She looked blank. ‘Yes, Mama. Uh, if you put, her in a kennel... with per doctor, I guess ... I'll come and get her. As fast as I can make arrangements. We'll have to cash a bond. I'll have to work it out with Henry. But I won't let you down. I promised. I know it.'

‘My good Susan. Dear, Princess settled it, I think, when she managed to find per way home in only three days, when she's never been anywhere before. Yes, I'm selling this house but we are moving only a mile or so. I want a smaller house and not all this acreage. I can persuade Princess to accept a new home that close by, I think; it is a problem I've coped with before.'

Susan let out a deep sigh. ‘Mama, have I told you lately that you're wonderful?'

‘No.'

‘You're wonderful!'

‘Thank you. Is that all?' (The clock was crowding me.)

‘Just one thing. Aunt Eleanor was here today -‘

‘She was? I thought she was in Toronto. On Saturday she didn't say anything about going to Arizona.'

‘Uncle Justin went to Toronto; she came here. To Scottsdale, I mean. She's going to Toronto. Right away, if this works. She's had caretaker trouble two seasons now, she tells me, and she wants Hanky and me to move into their place and take care of it. What do you think?'

(I think you would be out of your mind to move into the luxurious summer palace of a super-millionaire; you'll learn bad habits and fancy tastes - that's no way to start a marriage. And that commuting up and down Scottsdale's Road - six miles? seven? - might take up enough time each day to interfere with your studies.) Susan, what I think does not matter. What does your husband think?'

‘He suggested that I talk to you.'

‘But what does he think?'

‘Uh... I'm not sure. Will you talk to him?'

‘Have him call me back. Susan, I have a business appointment and I'm late; I've got to switch off. Bye!'

Whew! Nine-thirty-five - I punched up Harriman and Strong, got the same female zombie as yesterday. ‘Maureen Johnson speaking. Let me speak to George Strong.'

‘Mr Strong is not available. Will you record -‘

‘We went through that routine yesterday. I'm Maureen Johnson and he has an appointment with me at my house in twenty minutes and you know it! Catch him before he leaves the building or phone him in his car. Move, damn it!'

‘I'm here, Maureen.' George's face replaced hers. ‘I've been held up. Will you forgive me if I make it ten-thirty instead of ten?'

‘Quite all right, George. You, recall those envelopes I left with you in 1947?'

‘Certainly. In my personal safe. Never mingled with business papers.'

‘Would you, please, bring with you envelopes numbers one and two?'

‘Certainly, dear lady.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

I switched off. ‘Up we go, darlings, and bathe and dress. Priscilla, come share my bath'- and my bidet; you smell like a whorehouse and don't realise it, dear - ‘and we'll put you into something of mine. Something summery, the day is going to be a scorcher. Shorts and a halter, probably. Donald, Patrick left some clothes behind, so look around. Shorts and a T-shirt, maybe. Or Levi's. We'll stop at the Plaza later and do some fast shopping. Don't use all the hot water - three baths at once. Be ready by ten-twenty. On your marks, get set, go!'

George had two houses to show me. One was near 75^th Street and Mission Road in Johnson County, close to Shawnee Mission East High School. It belonged to New World Homes, a Harriman Enterprise, and had all the newer than-tomorrow touches New World Homes was famous for - and it reminded me of a Bauhaus fiat.

My youngsters loved it.

The other was on the Missouri side of the line, about half way between our old house and Southwest High School, off Linden Road. It was not as new. The appearance of the development and my memory told me that it had been built in 1940, give or take a year.

‘George, this is a J. C. Nichols subdivision.'

‘The Nichols organisation always builds excellent houses. This came into our hands because I bought it from one of our executives in a compassionate move, following a tragic accident. He lost his wife and two children. When he got out of hospital, we shipped him to Tucson to recuperate, then put him to work in Paradise, at the power plant. Complete change of work, scene, people - my partner's notion of how to rehabilitate a good man who had had his very life chopped off. Delos - Mr Harriman - takes care of his people. Shall we go in?'

It was a pleasant house, with good landscaping and a fenced back yard - and it was furnished.

Mr Strong said, ‘Ali he asked to have shipped to him were his books and his clothes. Her clothes and those of his youngsters and their personal possessions all went to the Salvation Army. The rest - bedlinen, blankets, rugs, towels, drapes - have all been cleaned and the mattresses sterilised. The house is for sale furnished or unfurnished, and you can have it either way on lease.'

It had a master bedrooan and mo smaller ones upstairs, each with bath. The master bedroom was on the west and. had a ‘sunset' balcony, like the flat we had in 1940 on Woodlawn in Chicago. Downstairs was both a parlour and a family room, an arrangement I strongly favour for any family having children at home. Youngsters need a place where they can be less than neat, without disturbing mother when she has someone in for tea.

Off the back hallway, balancing the kitchen, was a maid's room and bath. The kitchen had a GE dishwasher and a Raytheon electronic cooking unit of the same sort that I had in my old farmhouse - and in both cases the equipment was new, not the age of either house. A feature that struck my eye was an abundance of built-in bookcases... added later, it seemed to me, except a pair of small ones flanking the fireplace in the family room. Most houses didn't even have that much, as most people don't read.

(Before the twentieth century was out that could be worded, ‘most people can't read'. One of the things I learned in studying the histories of my home planet and century on various time lines was that in the decline and fall that took place on every one of them there was one invariant: illiteracy.

In addition to that scandalous flaw, on three time lines were both drug abuse and concurrent crime in the streets, plus a corrupt and spendthrift government. My own time line had endless psychotic fads followed by religious frenzy; time line seven had continuous wars; three time lines had collapse of family life and marriage - but every time line had loss of literacy... combined with - riddle me this - more money per student spent on education than ever before in each history. Never were so many paid so much for accomplishing so little. By 1980 the teachers themselves were only semi-literate.)

The house had - mirabile visu! - two hot-water heaters, one for upstairs, one for kitchen, laundry room, and maid's bath. I tried a tap and was amazed to discover that the water was hot.

George Strong said, ‘After you called yesterday I instructed our maintenance foreman to have services turned on and the house aired. You could sleep here tonight if you so wished.'

‘We'll see.' I took a quick look in the basement and we left.

George Strong treated us to a lovely lunch in The Fiesta Patio in the Plaza, then at my request we were taken to Dr Rumsey's office. I spoke to Jim Rumsey and told him what in particular I wanted him to look for - I can be truthful with Dr Rumsey, thank goodness, since he understands Howard problems.

‘Don't tell her whether or not she is pregnant; tell me. She's a difficult case; I need leverage. Do you want to know her real age?'

‘You forget that I know it. I'll try not to let that fact affect my judgement.'

‘Jim, you're a comfort.' I kissed him goodbye, went out and spoke to my youngsters:

‘Just sit tight and wait. He has other patients ahead of you. When you are through, make your best way home.'

‘You're not picking us up?' Priscilla seemed amazed. ‘I thought we were going shopping?'

‘No, we've run out of time. Perhaps we'll go to the Plaza after dinner; I believe Sears is open late.'

‘Sears?'

‘Do you Nave something against Sears?'

‘Aunt Marian never shops, at Sears.'

‘That's interesting. I'll see you at home. You can walk or take the bus.'

‘Wait a moment! Did you tell the Doctor that I don't want to be poked?'

‘On the contrary, I told him that if you gave him any lip or showed any lack of co-operation, I wanted him to tell me.'

Priscilla pouted. ‘I thought that you were going to pick us up and go shopping and then we were going back to decide which house to rent'

‘I am about to decide that right now, while you two take your physicals.'

‘You mean we don't get a vote?'

‘Did you think that we were going to vote on it? All right, we'll vote by the rules of the Republic of Gondor. For each dollar each interested party invests in the deal he or she gets one vote. How many votes do you want to buy?'

‘Huh? Why, I think that's mean!'

‘Priscilla, it has never been in the Bill of Rights that minor dependants get to pick the family domicile. And, while I do not know how Aunt Marian ran things, in my household I make such decisions. I may consult others; I may not. If I do consult others, I am not bound by their opinions. Understand me?'

Priscilla did not answer. Donald said quietly, ‘Slugger, you're crowding your luck.'

I rejoined George at his car; he handed me in. ‘Where now, dear lady?'

‘I would like to look again at the furnished house.'

‘Good.'

We rode in silence. George Strong was a comfortable man to be with; he had no small talk. Presently I said, ‘Did you bring those two envelopes?'

‘Yes. Do you want them now? If so, I had better park. They are in a concealed zipper pocket, rather hard to reach.'

No, I was just checking, before we got too far from your office.'

When we reached the house, I went upstairs with George at my heels, and into the master bedroom. I started undressing; his face lit up.

‘Maureen, I had hoped that you had this in mind.' He sighed happily and started reaching for fastenings himself. It's been a long time.'

‘Too long. I've been overwhelmed with mother problems and with school. But school is over for me, for a long time at least, and my mother problems I have under control - I hope - and I'll have more time, if you want me.'

‘I'll always want you!'

‘I've been thinking about you and your sweet ways all day. But I had to park the children first. Do you want to undress me? Or shall we both hurry and see how quickly we can be in bed?'

‘What a choice to have to make!'

George wasn't the greatest bedroom artist in the world, but in the six years I had been his now-and-then mistress, he had never left me hanging on the fence. He was an attentive and considerate lover and he took as his prime purpose being certain that his partner in bed reached orgasm.

If he was no Adonis, I was no Venus. When I was Priscilla's age, I looked pretty good - as tasty as she did, I think. But now (1952) I was seventy and a simulated forty-seven, and did look past forty despite special effort. An older woman must work at it, just as George worked at it (and I did appreciate his efforts). She must keep her breath sweet, her inner muscles in good tone, her voice low and mellow, her smile ready and her frown never, and her attitude friendly and co-operative. Father had told me, ‘Widows are far better than brides. They don't tell, they won't yell, they don't swell, they rarely smell, and they're grateful as hell.'

That's Maureen Johnson from 1946 to 1982. When I first heard Father's bawdy formula I was simply amused by it and never expected it to apply to me... until that sour day that Brian let me know that his younger concubine had displaced me. Then I found that Father's joking description was the simple truth. So I became an available ‘emergency squaw'. I worked hard at being agreeable and smelling good. And I didn't insist on Adonis, just a friendly fair exchange with a gentleman. (Never an oaf, never a wimp!)

I always left time for a second one, if he wanted it. He wants it, if you have done the job on him you should do. The reason American men are such lousy lovers is that American women are such lousy lovers. And vice versa, and around and around. ‘Garbage in, garbage out.' You get what you pay for.

That twenty minutes to an hour between goes is the best time in the world for intimate talk.

‘Want first crack at the bathroom?' I asked.

‘No hurry,' George answered, his voice rumbling in his chest (I had my right ear against it). ‘How about you?'

‘No rush. George, that was a goody. And just what I needed. Thank you, sir.'

‘Maureen, you're the one Shakespeare had in mind - "where other women satiate, she most makes hungry":

‘Go along with you, sir.'

‘I mean it.'

‘Tell me enough times and I'll believe it. George, when you do get up, would you please get those envelopes? Wait a moment. Do you have time today for a second one?'

‘I have time. That is what time is for.'

‘All right. I did not want to waste time in bed talking business if you were in a hurry. Because I do know ways to get you up again quickly if you are in a hurry.'

‘You do indeed! But I got a day's work done before ten in order to devote the rest of the day to Maureen.' He got up, got the two envelopes, came back, offered them to me.

I said, ‘No, I don't want to touch them. George, please examine them. Is there any way I could have tampered with them?'

‘I don't see how you could have. They have been in my possession continuously since 4 July 1947.' He smiled at me, and I smiled back - that was the date of the second time we had been in bed together. ‘Your birthday, girl, and you gave me a present.'

‘No, we exchanged presents, to our mutual profit. Examine the envelopes, George - have they been tampered with? No, don't come closer. I might bewitch them.'

He looked them over. ‘The flap seal has both our signatures written across it, on each envelope. I know my signature and I saw you sign under mine. I do not see how even Houdini could have opened them.'

‘Please open number one, George, and read it aloud... and keep it. Put it back into your zipper pocket.'

‘Whatever you say, dear girl.' He opened it and read, ‘ "4 July 1947. In the spring of 1951 a man calling himself ‘Dr Pinero' will infuriate both scientists and insurance men by claiming to be able to predict the date of any person's death. He will set up in business in this sort of fortune-telling. For several months he will enjoy great business success. Then he will be killed or die in an accident and his apparatus will be destroyed. Maureen Johnson." ‘

(As George read aloud, I thought back to that Saturday night, 29 June 1918. Brian slept part of the time; Theodore and I not at all. Every now and then I ducked into the bath, recorded in crisp Pitman everything Theodore told me - many details that he had not given to judge Sperling and Justin and Mr Chapman.)

George said, ‘Interesting. I never did believe that this Doctor Pinero could do what he claimed to do. It must have been some complex hoax.'

‘That's not the point, George.' (I did not speak sharply.)

‘Eh?'

‘It does not matter now whether he was a charlatan or not; the man is dead, his apparatus destroyed, none of his notes remains. So said Time magazine and all the newspapers. All this happened last year, 1951. That envelope has been in your custody since July 1947, four years ago. How did I do it?'

He answered mildly, ‘I wondered about that. Are you going to tell me?'

(Certainly, George. This man from the stars and the future came home and made love to me and told me these things because he thought they could help me. And then he died, killed in a war that wasn't his. For me. [Only now I know that he went back to the stars and I lost him... and found him... and now I'm lost again, in a darkened lorry with a screwball cat: Pixel, don't go away again!])

‘George, I'm a soothsayer.'

‘A soothsayer. That's a fortune-teller.'

‘Literally it means one who speaks the truth. But I am a prophet, rather than a fortune-teller. All those envelopes contain prophecies. Now for envelope number two. Don't opera it quite yet. George, have I been in your office in the past month?'

‘Not to my knowledge. The only time you were ever in it, that I can recall, was about two years ago. We had a dinner date and it suited you to stop by my office rather than be picked up.'

‘That's right. You read the Wall Street journal, I'm sure. You are a director of the corporation managing the Paradise atomic power plant; I suspect that you read the journal pretty carefully concerning public power matters.'

‘That's true. Managing business involves studying all sorts of finicky details.'

‘What is new in the public power business lately?'

‘Nothing much. The usual ups and downs.'

‘Any new power sources?'

‘No, nothing significant. Some experimental windmills, but windmills, even improved ones, can't be classed as new.'

‘How about sunpower, George?'

‘Sunpower? Oh! Yes, there was a feature story in the Wall Street Journal. Eh... sunpower screens. Direct conversion of sunlight to electricity. Uh, two long-hair scientists, Dr Archibald Douglas and Dr M. L. Martin. Maureen, their gadget will never amount to anything. If you are considering it, don't risk any money on it. Do you realise how much of the time it is cloudy, how many hours are dark, how smog cuts into the potential? You wind up with -‘

‘George. Open the second envelope.'

He did so. ‘"Two scientists, Douglas and Martin, will develop conversion of sunlight into electricity at high efficiency. Douglas-Martin Sunpower Screens will revolutionise public power and strongly affect everything else for the rest of the twentieth century." Maureen, I just can't see how such an inefficient source -‘

‘George, George! How. did I know, in 1947, about these sunpower gadgets disclosed just this year? How did I get the names right? Douglas. Martin.'

‘I don't know.'

‘I told you and now I'll repeat it. I am a prophet. Envelope number three tells Harriman Industries how to cash in on the Douglas-Martin Sunpower Screens. The next three envelopes concern power, public power, big power - and the changes coming that you won't believe. But you will have to believe when we open those envelopes one by one. The question is: will we open them after the fact, as with these two - and then all I could say is "I told you so" - or do we open each one long enough before the fact that my prophecy is useful to you?'

‘I'm getting chilly. Shall I get dressed, or come back to bed?'

‘Oh, dear! I've talked business too long. Come to bed, George, and let me try to make it up to you.'

He did and we cuddled, but the essential miracle did not take place. At last I said, ‘Shall I apply a little direct magic? Or would you rather rest?'

‘Maureen, what is it you want from Harriman Industries? You have not dope this just to perplex me.'

‘Of course not, George. I want to be elected a director of Harriman Industries, the holding company. Later on you will need me on the board of some of the corporations being held by it. However I will continue to decide how to time prophecies... as timing is everything.'

‘A director. There are no women on the board.'

‘There will be when you nominate me and I am elected.'

‘Maureen, please! All directors are major stockholders.'

‘How much stock does it take to be eligible?'

‘One share complies with the roles. But company policy calls for major ownership. In the holding company or any of its subsidiaries.'

‘How much? Shares. No, dollar value by the market; the various corporate shares are not all the same value per share. Not any, I should say.'

‘Uh, Mr Harriman and I think a director should own, or acquire soon after election, at least half a million in market value of shares. It fixes his attention on what he is voting on.'

‘George, on Monday at the close of market my summed up position in all of your companies was $872.039.81 - I can bring that up to an even million in a few days if it would help to smooth the way.'

George's eyebrows went way up. ‘Maureen, I didn't know that you owned any of our stock. I should have spotted your name in connection with any large block.'

‘I use dummies. Some in Zurich, some in Canada, some in New York. I can get it all into my own name if there is any reason to.'

‘We'll need some intelligences filed with us, at least. Maureen, am I free to tell Mr Harriman about your envelopes? Your prophecies?'

‘How would he feel about them?'

‘I'm not sure. He and I have been in business together since the twenties... but I don't know him. He's a plunger... I'm a plough horse.'

‘Well, let's keep it a bedroom secret for now. Perhaps you will want to open the next envelope in his presence. Or perhaps not. George, if the public, particularly the Street, got hold of the idea that you were making business decisions on the advice of a soothsayer, it might damage Harriman Industries, might it not?'

‘I think you're right. All right, bedroom secret.' He suddenly smiled. ‘But if I said that I consulted an astrologer, half of those knot-heads would consider it "scientific":

‘And now let's. drop it, and let me see if I can get our plough horse interested in ploughing me. George, do all the men in your family have oversize penises?'

‘Not that I know of and I think you are trying to flatter me.'

‘Well, it seems big to me. Hey! It's getting bigger!'