The List (18 page)

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 respect 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.”

“Whoa, Robert,” Layne interjected. “I think you need to see my psychiatrist about your anger toward the weaker sex. I don't think we should punish this young lady for the sins of every woman since Eve. She seems bright and capable to me. My concern is more a matter of, how shall I say . . . conscience.”

“Spare us,” Roget said, bristling. “You checked your conscience at the door of your first-grade classroom.”

“No, no, you're mistaken. I'm not concerned about my conscience.” Layne grinned. “I have it well sedated. It's her conscience that raises a question in my mind.”

“Explain yourself,” Eicholtz said.

Layne waited until sure he had everyone's attention.“While the rest of you were gnawing on the prime rib, I was watching young Ms. Johnston. She bowed her head and prayed before we ate, and she failed to sample the excellent Tignabello. She's a ‘true believer' and a teetotaler.”

“So w-w-what. W-w-we're not alcoholics,” Maxwell said with effort to sound more sober than he was.

“I agree. Appreciating a fine wine is not a prerequisite for membership to the List, and religion is the harmless opiate of the people. But I think Ms. Johnston believes some of the nonsense in the letter from poor old Taylor about God, curses, tragedy, and the vague culpability of this group in it all. That troubles me. We don't need someone conducting a witch hunt that upsets our apple cart, to mix my metaphors. My sense is that this young lady is a religious fanatic. It's trouble with a capital
T,
and we don't need that. Ask Mr. Jacobson. He has been around her some for a day or so. I dare say he will confirm what I'm saying.”

LaRochette nodded toward Renny. “Do you have an opinion about Thomas's categorization of Ms. Johnston?”

All eyes now turned to Renny.

Renny was impressed with Layne's insight. Although skewed by personal prejudice, he'd read Jo like a book. He instantly replayed some of his own “religious” moments with Jo and debated his options. He could say, “I don't know her well enough to give an opinion,” “I think you are mistaken,” or “You are right. She is very religious.” He decided to answer as Jo might.

Addressing Layne, he said, “You're right. She is very religious. I haven't been around her before this weekend, but I think she has the type of conscience you described. She believes in a God who is involved in her life in a way I would call somewhat mystical. How she would relate to this group is something I don't know. She marches to the beat of her own drum.” As soon as he said it, Renny knew Jo's fate was sealed. The members of the List didn't want individualism. Everyone had to beat his drum to the same cadence. There was one sheet of music, and there would be no drum for Jo.

Layne nodded with satisfaction. “I call for a vote.”

“I second,” Roget responded.

Renny, Eicholtz, and Maxwell voted to accept Jo for membership; LaRochette, Flournoy, Smithfield, Layne, Roget, and Weiss voted against it. Renny knew Eicholtz's vote was sentimental. It was his way of honoring Jo's father. Maxwell's tenaciousness surprised Renny. Jo had been right—there was more to him than Renny had thought. Renny voted yes, but knew in his heart she would never have joined.

“Renny, please ask Ms. Johnston to come back in for a moment,” LaRochette said. “I'll explain our decision to her.”

Renny left the room and leaned against the wall in the hallway. What had he done? He went into the agreement blind. He hadn't asked any of his questions. He hadn't waited until they voted on Jo. He knew nothing more than he did before the meeting started. Why did he feel so rotten, then so wonderful?

Looking at his left ring finger, he could barely see any sign of the cut. No redness, nothing. He pressed the finger at the site of the cut to see if it was sore. Nothing. Well, he couldn't stand there and give himself a physical. He needed to retrieve Jo.

She was sitting in the parlor with her eyes closed. Renny cleared his throat as he walked through the door. It seemed like hours since he had left her there.

“Not asleep, were you?” he asked.

“At rest, yes. Asleep, no,” she said, opening her eyes and blinking a couple of times. “What's the verdict?”

Renny held his thumb down.

Jo shrugged. “I'm not surprised.”

“Come back in for a minute. LaRochette wants to give you the news.”

Renny didn't mention his own decision, and they walked down the hall in silence. He held the door for her as she reentered the dining room.

LaRochette turned on the charm. “Ms. Johnston, please have a seat.”

Renny held her chair for her. Several of the men occupied themselves with another glass of wine.

“Deciding your status has been a difficult issue. We respected your father greatly and have considered his request designating you as his successor on the List. However, the terms of the relationship established by our forefathers do not make provision for your membership to the List, and we have voted accordingly. However, while Mr. Jacobson was getting you, someone suggested we demonstrate in a small way our sentiments to you and your family. For this reason we would like to transfer one million dollars to you as a gift. All we ask is that you honor your family's commitment to keep the List confidential.”