 
### WHAT KIND OF MAN...

_a novel_  
by  
Greenberry Baxter

Smashwords Edition

* * * * *

Published on Smashwords by:  
Greenberry Baxter

What Kind of Man...  
Copyright 2008 by Greenberry Baxter

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

* * * * *

### CONTENTS

Part I: Contact

Prologue

1. What Kind of Man

2. The Sacred Spot

3. A Summoning

4. The Storm

5. The Spark

6. The Confidant

7. Drawstring Dilemma

8. The Art of the Curse

9. The Soul Lowdown

10. What Would You Say?

11. Who Was Franklin Pierce?

12. Franklin Pierce, the Mexican War and More

13. Guy of Warwick

14. Who Is Sally Weare?

15. Considerations and Limitations

16. Preparation of the Human Canvas

17. Instantly, Where You Want to Be

18. The Ball

19. The Ball, Part Two

20. The Fricassee

21. The Fat, and Chewing It

22. Who Was Nathaniel Hawthorne?

23. Who Was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow?

24. A Use of Talent

25. Poetic Justice

26. Web Wonders

27. "I'm Franklin."

28. Dirty Dancing

29. A Masterpiece of Trust

30. The Ring

Part II: The Washingtonians

31. The Marquis

32. Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert

33. The Craft Guild

34. A Noble Inquiry

35. The Unexpected

36. The Train To Washington

37. The Mystery Man

38. The Senator

39. Moonbeam Magic

40. The Giant Obelisk

41. The River

42. A Good Nurse

Part III: Beyond the Yellow Sea

43. Dragons' Bones

44. Darwin

45. It Moved, The Earth Moved

46. Canton

47. The Wagon

48. Safe Harbor

49. Anchorage

50. Ethan Ess

Epilogue

Acknowledgments and Credits

* * * * *

This book is for FRANKLIN PIERCE, an amazing man, who bore monumental personal tragedy with grace and dignity, who answered, every time his country called, who was a true and fast friend to his dear friends, and who was rewarded for his efforts by the scapegoat syndrome.

May your unsettled soul have found peace, my friend.

* * * * *

Will we ever meet in time  
On some great plane,  
Or will you remain  
Just a photograph, I've seen?  
How can I verify  
All of these saved up dreams  
I've had of you?

— _From a song, "The Photograph"_  
_written by Sally Weare when_  
_she was twenty-one years old._  
_At the time she had no idea_  
_from whence it came_

* * * * *

PART I  
CONTACT

* * * * *

PROLOGUE

In the days of the new millennium between the years 2000 and 2005 a transatlantic telephone conversation occurred as partner and prelude to these events:

"Hello"

"Is this Sally? I've never heard your actual voice, a touch of a twang in there."

"Am I talking to one Aine Fitzgerald, residing in the UK?

"'Tis."

"This is such a trip. I am having a conversation with the Archduchess of Kildare. Fancy that. Need I say I'm glad we ran into each other in cyber space? We have some kind of a connection—spiritual sisters, must be, fused by fate."

"More than just a connection, my dear, it would seem."

"Great idea to have this call at a pre-arranged time. Did you have to go through an operator? I am not very sophisticated at these things."

"No, I just dialed and _you_ answered. If you would stay off of that computer, we wouldn't have to pre-arrange the time."

"I have only talked overseas once in my life and it was a call to Germany, ages ago. Now, I am waiting to hear about the event—you emailed me. I am dying to know, how was it? Spill it! And don't leave anything out!"

"Okay, the shaman lady, my friend Frances, you know..."

"Yes, I remember, and you sent me a picture of her. A group of your friends were taking belly dancing instruction, including y-o-u, you—but I did get a good look at her."

"She took me and a couple of others to the ceremony. They had really been playing it up amongst themselves, how the earth was going to tilt on its axis during the solstice. The mystics all had on their garb. Some of the robes had hoods."

"Were they Druids? Are there Druids still floating around over there?"

"Actually, I think three or four of them did call themselves Druids, but mostly they were just mystics, pagans, and a couple were Wiccan, I believe. They had antiquated musical instruments, percussion-type. One had a crucible with special water. The crude instruments, drums, sticks, hammers, bells, they played as they walked along in the street to the extremely slow rhythm of these things. Then at some point they stopped playing the instruments and they stopped their procession. There was an eerie silence that lasted several moments. They stopped on a pre-arranged point and brought forth their crucible of charged water.

"Charged water?"

"Yes, it is said to be charged in that it has had all the directions of the realm brought into it—north, south, east, west, up, down, right, left, fire, earth, water and air. You get the picture?"

"Mercy me. The Yardbirds—their song. Oops, sorry, didn't mean to get away from the seriousness of the moment. They were one of our better British imports..."

"Huh, oh, right!"

"Then what happened? Do I dare ask?"

"It was perfectly still. More silent than silent. It was so strangely still for several moments then I could hear this low, very low, rumbling sound. It was barely audible then gradually got louder, but barely noticeable. The noise ceased."

"Then?"

"I made eye contact with the shaman lady. I was sort of apprehensive as to what it was and what was going to happen next. She nodded at me, a tiny little nod that I took to mean she would explain it to me later."

"What was the noise, a special musical instrument?"

"No, it wasn't that at all. You see, what I heard was apparently the earth itself. The movement of the earth tilting on its axis causes all the stones beneath, in the depths, to tumble against each other—the total effect is the rumbling."

"You actually heard it? The earth moving?"

"It is strange, but yes, yes I believe I did. Now what about you? What strange and eerie events have you been involved with kindred spirit?"

"Oh, not much."

"Now, darlin', don't give me that. There is something very wrong. I can tell by your voice. Won't you part with it, now?"

"Oh Aine, I can't. It is so unbelievable that I think I may be losing it, mentally going off. But I will give it a lot of examination, organize my thoughts...then when I am ready to spill my guts, you'll be the first to know. If you can be patient for just a little while longer, I will ring you up some day around tea time, maybe, and just blab, blab, blab."

"Oh, now you are intriguing me, too much. Promise you will call me soon. Promise?"

"Yes I do. I promise. Until then we should just continue emails about the minutiae of our daily lives."

"Well, all right then. An avoidance of issues. I guess I'll have to wait. Is it about a man? It's about some bloke you're getting fond of, innit? There's life in the ol' girl yet, eh?"

"I can't go into it, but I will soon. I guess you could say there _is_ life. Barely."

Sally Weare gave reflection to the recent events in her life, such strange events they were, at that, and as she, almanac in hand, pinpointed the exact time the earth was tilting, the exact time Aine Fitzgerald was observing the ceremony of the mystics and the four token Druids, and actually hearing the earth move, well, Sally was experiencing something herself.

Although she had heard no rumbling, heard no piteous groaning of mother earth, the earth had moved on her side of the pond, too. Yes indeed, it had. The earth had moved.

* * * * *

WHAT KIND OF MAN...

After Sally hung up the phone, a searing question stayed around and played on low speed in her head. It was the same question that had consumed her for over a fortnight: _What kind of a man are you, Franklin?_

Because of recent events, Sally Weare's life had been a grim one. Conversely, because of other recent events, Sally felt a glimmer of hope for better things. _There is something just around the corner—I can feel it._ She decided to take a long hot bath and wash off months of gloom. After toweling dry, she donned her loose-fitting peach colored satin robe. She rolled her medium long chestnut-hued hair on pink jumbo foam rollers and plopped into bed. _What I am thinking is too bizarre. I am losing it!_ Sally drifted off and fell into a hard sleep. At about 11:30 pm, Sally was awakened by a noise in the hall. _Why won't those cats simmer down and let me sleep?_ Then, there was the click of boots on linoleum. She rose up to discover a dark figure taking up the whole door frame. She was not frightened by the baritone voice, softer than, but reminiscent of Burt Lancaster in The Rainmaker. It was Franklin, to be sure. Franklin was in the doorway. She was not dreaming. A faint, horse-y smell traipsed on the air. She remembered this smell from horseback riding as a child, how the perspiration coming off the horse clung to you until you washed it off. It was a hay-like smell, she had concluded at the time and the conclusion remained.

Franklin's long dark trousers came neatly over the instep of his highly polished square-toed boots. Sally sat up more in bed and squinted, taking it all in. A frock coat came to his knees and was open over a waistcoat. She reached for her glasses on the table and put them on. A striking black cape provided a backdrop for his fine form, draping down below the back of his knees. He peeled off his black leather gloves slowly and held out his bare hand.

"Come with me." He demanded in a type of English that was neither British in character, nor twenty-first century American. "Come along, now." He said in a tone of amused patience. Of course Sally could not resist. There was nothing left of her life, nothing more to do.

He grasped her hand and led her down the hall and out the front door. The countryside seemed different in the bright moonlight. In the chilly, crisp air, Sally could see trees where there had been none, and other trees seemed to be different in sizes. The gravel drive was no longer there. A beautiful light colored, dappled horse was tied to one of the trees. Franklin gestured toward the horse, then helped Sally up into the saddle. He took great care of her modesty, straightening her robe. He mounted the horse behind her and they started down a well-worn path. The horse trotted along lightly and Sally giggled to herself. Some of the puzzlements in her brain seemed to be making some sense, but the conclusions! _Here I am on a horse, in a robe and fur-trimmed slippers. I have curlers in my hair and I am with a man who was born two hundred years ago!_ She tried to surreptitiously remove the curlers from her hair and toss them to the side of the path. _I will try to find them later like Hansel's and Gretel's bread crumbs. Then I will know this wasn't a dream!_

Franklin felt Sally's shoulders shaking as she continued trying to stifle her giggles. . "I hope you are not cold." There was a feline cry in the woods. "Can't let a _painter_ get you, girl!" He laughed heartily over the cries of the crooning, mating bobcats, then made clicking noises with his mouth. The horse went into a canter in response. "Your place used to be a hog farm!" He laughed again.

"How did you know that? Aren't you from New Hampshire?" She knew this was a stupid question, as the whole situation she was in was totally inconceivable anyway.

"I had a dear friend, a fellow officer that was once on an army maneuver and he had an encampment here. It was a perfect location because of all the mountains and rivers. Also made it easy to get supplies. He has explained the area to me many times, fond of drawing maps, geography." Some of Sally's bewilderment faded from her face. For the first time, in oh such a long time, she felt at home. _What is he feeling about making this contact with a mortal, and can he even feel?_ She wondered.

After what seemed like a thirty minute bouncy ride, Sally focused on a dim light. They neared a small log cabin that she knew in her present-day life as only as a pile of rough, aged lumber and a tumble-down stone chimney. The horse stopped by the front porch and Franklin dismounted. He secured the reins to a post. He helped Sally down from the horse, gingerly, gently. Sally closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep, drinking breath. He motioned to the front door of the cabin and followed her with long strides to work the door latch. He knew she would find the antiquated mechanism unfamiliar. His footsteps echoed across the planks of the porch, behind her scuffling slipper-steps. He followed her inside the cabin which was lit by a coal oil lantern.

Sally tried to take in the surroundings. She stifled another giggle as her thoughts turned to her stomach. _Probably nothing here to eat except jerky!_

Franklin secured the door latch then placed his gloves on the oak table and turned up the lantern a bit. Sally froze as Franklin turned. "Now, I shall tell you what kind of a man I am!"

* * * * *

THE SACRED SPOT

On a pre-dawn morning in 2005, a dark figure approached the grave of Franklin Pierce in the Old North Cemetery, Concord, New Hampshire.

The fog was thick and curtain-y, like a white aurora borealis in the pale light. A rear view of the gentleman brought to mind a resemblance in costume to a famous country-western singer. Dressed almost totally in black, he carried a walking stick in his right hand. His curly dark hair reached to the bottom of his ears. The silver top of the walking stick produced a soft glow through the mist as his flowing cape fell to within a foot of the ground.

The grave he was visiting, marked by a light colored obelisk with two side panels, contained the bones of Franklin Pierce, Jane Means Appleton Pierce, a four year old boy and twelve year old Benny. An infant's name was listed on the memorial also, but he was buried elsewhere.

The man clad in black stood in front of the gravestone for a long while—he seemed to be swaying slightly. The hem of his cape giving this away. He tightened his grip on the walking stick and lowered himself to a kneeling position. He bowed his head for a moment, then as he raised it again, his lips released these words, "This is the sacred spot."

Then as a whisper, "the sacred spot."

"My dear family...my dear, sweet family. I come here as a sort of ritual I must undertake. I am asking your forgiveness for the journey upon which I am about to embark.

I have had the merciful good fortune to be with you spiritually for fleeting moments on the other side. I have come to understand our purpose in the great design, as have you all. Understand may not be the right word, for how can we ever understand the tragic lives we had to live together on this mortal plane? I may comprehend that Jane, you and I, had many things for our souls to learn and our lives as we lived them were sacrificed to this end.

But three innocent babes? I will never completely fathom the reasoning behind that. I have been asked to trust and believe and that is what I have attempted to do, to the best of my ability.

Jane, dear girl, I loved you with all my heart, with what mortal knowledge I had, and I know you loved me in the same way. I could find no way to make you happy. The more inadequate I felt in that regard, the more I busied myself with other things, and fell into drink and despair. My abominable behavior made things worse for both of us. It is like we reached an age when we felt we were expected to marry because of the pressures and expectations of our social circles. Our love was pleasant, but it lacked depth and meaning. We soon became just friends—friends held together by family activities and interactions and social events in our communities—grief, plenty of grief, and clinging to each other to endure. I do not think we even had much to say to one another without other people around to inspire conversational topics. Yet, even as it was, I do not suspect either of us would have taken kindly to our interests in others outside our small circle. Resentment would have reared its ugly head, to be sure. We had that much of a bond, anyway, to have not accepted the intrusion or invitation of a third parties.

Now that you have been a long time passed and crossed Jane, I feel that you would be willing to let me go, that you would actually want me to, and give me your blessing. I am here to bear witness that I honor and respect our life together, but I have a job to do now, a job that has been sanctioned by Providence, and that likewise you have had your jobs to do in the hereafter and have been doing them.

Part of my current mission will include my ability to have a camaraderie with a mortal person that provides for my soul a certain sustenance, it will provide me the vital support and inspiration I need to spur me on. Mortal souls do so much better, you see, with the support of people with like ideas and goals, or more importantly a respect for what they are trying to accomplish. You could not support me in a fashion that was needed in my earthly endeavors, nor could I, you. I felt so helpless.

Benny, my dear, sweet wonderful, wonderful boy. If only I could have seen you grow to manhood. I pause here on this ground to let you know I am not trampling over what was our life. I am walking this earth again to give my own existence, both spiritual and mortal, a deeper meaning, a richer history. I am fortunate to be given this chance. Not many are given this unique repeat performance upon which I am about to embark. I am being allowed an opportunity to correct my mortal missteps. I know you would want me to do this for all our sakes. You were such a joy to us, Benny. No boy on earth was ever loved more by his parents.

It was pointless of me to come here. You are souls that have flown away to other realms, not concerned with what I am about here and now. Yes, indeed, pointless except for one thing. My mortal being needed for me to do this. My constitution required it."

The man stood up slowly and turned his gaze to the ground. _It is such an odd thing... standing here as a mortal man, standing on bones that were mine as a mortal man. What would science make of it? My own bones beneath me, yet my bones within me now, giving me a frame for my muscle and skin to lay upon, and yet I can become ethereal at will, and have no bones at all!_ "Make no bones about it, it is very odd!" He exclaimed softly to himself. _That was bad, even for you, Franklin Pierce, very bad indeed!_

The man clad in black took two steps to the right to touch the stone there. "Frank Jr., my precious little namesake..." he patted the stone softly. The tears welling in his eyes overflowed a little onto his cheeks. As he was leaving he placed a kiss on Benny's name with his fingertips, took three steps and placed a kiss on Jane's name in the same manner. By the time the invisible sun had come up over the invisible horizon, he was gone. Did he walk away, or dissipate? Maybe a better word would be sublime. He sublimed his way back into the spirit world, seeming to become a part of the fog.

* * * * *

— _What strange events could have led up to Sally Weare's other-worldly moonlight ride? For what purpose had Franklin Pierce returned to earth and taken_ _her to the cabin?_

A SUMMONING

Sometimes turmoil plays across a human soul that is so unbearable that the human mind comes to the rescue. A rich fantasy life can often compensate for grief and disap-pointment. This may be what happened to Sally. Or, maybe not. Who of us have not felt some type of communication from a dearly departed loved one? What things are now possible that were considered impossible a hundred years ago? What things of that time that were thought probable, have now been proven not to be so? I will put it to you. You can decide.

Eat a meal, climb in bed, take a nap, get up, eat a snack, go back to bed, read, read some more, get up, do a chore, go back to bed, read, take a nap...

This is what Sally's life had become. She seemed to have lost everyone that she loved; her friends, because of moves and relocations, sometimes by death, as in the suicides of three of her closest friends. She had muddled through thirty more years of life without them and their precious friendship. Still, she somehow felt their energy out there somewhere.

Her older family members had fallen away like just-cut grain. Her marriage, now her siblings like the just mown grain were falling, falling away. For these past two years she had cared for her sick friend, Clem. He died in her arms one late afternoon in the county hospital. The trauma of the modern world, Sally's sensitive, artistic nature could not endure. Part of her wanted to go ahead and die with the rest of them. _What was the point of even going on?_ She continued to drag herself off to her paying job for six hours a day, but even that was interfering with her misery schedule.

She would often awaken in the middle of the night and find her face plastered to the page of a book, or the actual thud of the book falling off the bed would be the noise that woke her up. When she ran out of reading material, her escapism—she had been devouring three or four books a week—she turned to the book on American presidents that Clem had given her, one of his last gifts. Sally smiled as she reminisced about Clem's "ordering things through the mail" addiction. This one book had been a fix for him, and when he had finished it he gave it to Sally to keep. Taking up this book must have been it. It must have been the catalyst that led to her Franklin Pierce empathy and fascination.

_Which presidential biography can I possibly slog through?_ She thumbed through the huge book growing increasingly drowsy. _What was that?_ As she turned slowly back through the passed pages, she found what had caught her eye. She was at once hypnotized, mesmerized, and entranced by the most interesting male specimen she had ever observed.

She was drawn in. _A photograph? I didn't think they even had photographs until the administration of Lincoln. A painted portrait of Pierce is the only image I remember. I am sorry to admit that I do not remember one historical event from his term. Yet, here in these pages are five photographs!_ She read on, consumed by the accompanying text. Tears welled up in her green eyes. There was an inaugural portrait, and army photograph—he was in full uniform—a profile showing his perfect nose, and a full length shot. In this picture, she observed the walking stick in his hand.

He was not terribly short. As she measured with her eyes, she observed, _it would take the length of two walking sticks to make up the height of him._ As the days and nights went by and she read more and more from many different sources, she needed, she felt, to have an actual conversation with the man. She checked out books from the library on Pierce and additional books on contacting the spirit world. Again she found herself lost in the pages of books.

Oh, I feel like such a fool, but I am going to try. I don't know what else to do at this point. I may have to try to contact a medium, but who? For now this will have to do.

"I am trying to contact you Franklin Pierce. Do you wish to be contacted, now?" Sally had gotten a small box down from her closet shelf. It contained a brass pendulum on a silken cord. There was a bundle of printed cards with letters, numbers and symbols on them. The pendulum, taken from its velvet pouch, had been charged. She positioned her fingers very lightly on the cord and rotated the pendulum in circles. It then began taking on a rhythm of its own. She kept her eyes tightly closed so as not to unduly influence the messages. She lowered the pointer until it abruptly stopped on the selected card. _Was it stopping on the first letter of the answer?_

To Sally's amazement, when she opened her eyes she saw that it had not stopped on a letter at all, but it had stopped on a word.

"Yes," was the reply.

"Franklin. I feel so much empathy for you. I am deeply sorry for your misfortunes, your grief, your wife's melancholy state throughout your marriage, due to her losses. Trying to take on the presidency with so much despair at the time was impossible, but you did so, and with great courage. You did not deserve all the bad events that occurred. I am getting feelings that your soul is not at rest, that it is troubled. Am I right?"

"Yes." The pendulum fairly flew to the word.

"I feel so drawn to you. I feel that we have been cheated by fate. I feel we have a magnetism, bond of purpose. Cruelly, we were born during different times. Could this be?"

"Yes."

"What kind of man are you, Franklin Pierce? I have to know."

Sally knew there was no way she would get an answer to this last question. Was she crossing a line into insanity?

_No_ , she kept telling herself. _I am completely sane. Plenty of adult people play with pendulums, Ouija boards or even Magic 8 Balls. I have been through too much grief myself, in my life, much like Franklin. Whatever entertainment or diversion a person has to use to get through it is acceptable as long as it doesn't bankrupt me or hurt anyone else._

The daily sessions with the silken string continued. Sally felt as if she were even kind of getting to know the guy a little, and he _did_ have a delightful sense of humor. The hermit-y woman lived for the swing of the pendulum, for Franklin's playful dialogue. She tried not to overdo it for her own sake, but he was so hard to resist. One Friday when she came home from work early, she got out the equipment and asked, "Franklin, do you wish to be contacted? I get off early on Fridays, sometimes. I have the whole day!"

The message he sent did not make any sense. It was just a bunch of letters, T G I F. She realized that she would have to decipher these letters, there was a hidden meaning in them. _T G I F, T G I F...I have heard this somewhere before..._

"Franklin! You are getting kind of rascally. T G I F, of course. Thank Goodness it's Friday, how could I not know that? I wasn't expecting it, I suppose. They didn't even have such acronyms in the 1800s, now, did they?" Sally was starting to see a purpose, have a reason to want to live again.

* * * * *

— _Sally continued her almost-daily contact with what she presumed was the spirit of Franklin Pierce, then this happened._

THE STORM

"Franklin!" Sally called out without even thinking about it. It was an unconscious uttering, as she almost lost control of her truck. "I know you are with me, I can feel it. Please see me through this. There are things I have to know. Please—I have somehow got to make it through this so you can give me the answers I need. Then, if I die, I die."

Sally Weare was trying to keep her green '75 GMC pickup truck on the road. The water was blowing across the highway in front of her, rain coming down violently in sheets. She swerved to miss monstrous blowing tree branches that had broken off and become airborne. She crept along, passing the scenic overview. It was several hundred feet up on a bluff over the lake. She could barely make out the sun behind the clouds as a blurry, white blob. The wind was creating a huge twirling vortex over the lake water. _It is a twister trying to form, but not quite able to do so._ She eased her way through the rain and debris, the haze of flotsam and jetsam, ever conscious of oncoming cars that could go out of control, hydroplane and take her out at any moment.

The storm seemed to be winding down some. She looked at her fingers, gone white from clutching the steering wheel so tightly. She had been afraid to even go to her truck after she clocked off at work. She was more afraid of lightning, than the inconvenience of rain and wind. It was a long walk to the parking area in a large open space. To make it worse there was a giant flagpole in the middle of that space. The coarse gravel lot for employee parking was no-frills. To Sally, this was symbolic of how the company felt about its peons. She had wanted to get out of the place so badly that she pushed on in spite of her educated fear.

The storm had almost completely dissipated as she neared the ridge of the mountain. She slowed to descend the forty-five degree steep incline. After she hit bottom, she navigated the two more miles of windy back road, over and up again, and took the winding side road to her little home on the country lane.

As Sally let herself in the front door of her mini ranch house she felt a strange sensation. There was something odd about her house. _The electricity is off._

She had called the electric company the day before. Men had been out to disconnect the meter. She had not had the money to pay until then and check was truly in the mail. They said they would give her two more days. What if a snafu had occurred? Her life had been a snafu-rich life so she had expected it. _Wait. It was the storm. The electricity must be out because of the storm. It had not gotten so bad out here yet, but lines were down somewhere. I am starved. I can't even make supper or a cup of coffee._

For awhile Sally tried to recline in her bed and read. The heat was stifling. Everything was so still. She had the house closed up so she could use air conditioning at night. The vestige of the sun was still coming through the windows, but it was too dark to read without a flashlight.

She became fidgety. _What can I do until the electricity comes back on? Maybe I can sit at the dining room table and light a candle._ She ambled down the hall using the flash- light, trying not to step on a cat. She cracked the large dining room window and lit a votive candle. The container had a pretty frosted chimney. She could see the storm she had recently driven out of approaching her part of the county. She opened the window some more to let in the cool, wet breeze. As she sat meditating in the candlelight, she felt another storm gathering—one involving her brain.

She again made her way down the hall using her flashlight to guide her. She returned to the dining room with a her small box, the one containing the velvet pouch and cards. She dumped the contents onto the table. _Of course. This is what I must do. The conditions are perfect, all the electric charges and ectoplasm that are probably floating around in these ancient hills now._

"Franklin, are you there?" At that moment, a gust of strong wind blew through the open window. Something like a wind chime tinkled outside, but she did not have wind chimes anymore, what could it have been? The wedding ring quilts she had suspended on a dowel for drapes swung out from the wall in unison. They then blew back with a soft flapping sound. "Franklin, are you out there?" She asked again. Sally's fingers barely touched the silken cord as the pendulum circled over the card. The pendulum vibrated slightly and began to make its move. It made its way slowly at first, but came to rest on "yes." "Do you want me to contact you at this time? Are you reaching out?"

"Yes," was the definite reply.

"Can I ever meet you? Do you know of a way for me to meet you without my actual death?"

"Yes."

"Send me a message, then." Sally dangled the swinging pendulum as she waited to see if it would spell out messages. The damp wind parted the quilt-curtains and she was bathed in a fine mist. She patiently waited. Then the letters came in rapid succession.

"Doubt not. You have purpose, Sally..." Sally trembled with excitement. She got a slip of paper and a pencil from inside the nearby piano bench. "...you are the most ideal mortal to help me in my endeavors, and I have insights to give you in your current realm, things you could obtain in no other way...to make your existence the richest experience possible." The message had continued.

Sally drew back somewhat. She felt ridiculous, a woman of her education and background trying to use a pendulum to contact a spirit from beyond. She snapped back into the moment as she was too curious to not continue, and she knew of no other method, except perhaps a Ouija board. She had even contacted TV psychics to see if they would help her pro bono, to no avail. She was somewhat relieved about the latter, after giving more thought, as she did not want anyone else intruding on or possibly contaminating her communications with Franklin.

"I am so sorry for your wounded spirit, Franklin."

"Yes, I used my years fighting grief, trying to keep grief at bay."

"Please tell me you are really out there, Franklin, that I am simply not going insane. Tell me that I can meet you in some way."

The message came and it was a jolt. "Yes, I have reasons. Keep faith." As tears trickled down Sally's cheeks, she gazed at the only close-up photo of Franklin that she had. It was a Photostat from a history book. She was interrupted from her wistful gaze by a crack of thunder. Lightening bolts continued to strike the countryside all around, and more thunder rolled in echoed off the surrounding mountains. She returned her fingertips to the pointer.

She began feeling around in the air with her hands like a blind man who had lost track of his cane. _Sally, get a grip._ She glanced about the darkened room feeling even more ridiculous. In frustration, she placed her fingertips on the nearby photograph then returned them to the pendulum, curious for a reply. The reply was lengthy and took time. "I am determined to give you my entire presence, because (something undecipherable) LIVES!" Right as the message ended there was a strange vibrating noise. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was signaling the restoration of power to her home.

_Theatrical!_ Theatrical was the way she would describe the way the vibrating noise had happened at the exact moment when Franklin's message ended.

The worst of the storm was passing. Now Sally could make herself a supper and go to bed. She placed the Photostat of Franklin on her nightstand. She wanted it to be the first thing she saw in the morning, as if she needed a reminder of the night's events.

Yes, maybe the worst of the storm was passing. Destined collaboration between two lost souls, an energy in the cosmos trying to connect and meant to, energy that had short-circuited and sputtered for decades was about to make its fated connection. Could this possibly be? The years of feeling something was just beyond her reach, the tantalizing feeling of some unknown force waiting, beckoning. The answers seemed to be riding on the winds of the storm.

* * * * *

—— _And so that was how the whole thing started. Franklin's unsettled soul pulling from the other side. Sally's grieving, the photos of Franklin were the catalyst, Sally reaching out from her world, Franklin from his. They made spiritual contact when all of the planets were lined up correctly, then they were actually able to converse for the first time during their visit to the cabin. Sally at one point found it necessary to ask Franklin, why he even took her to the cabin. What was there? He did retrieve some documents that he would show her, hidden there amongst some books, but it had mainly been for the atmosphere the cabin and the journey there provided. For Sally to accept his entry into her life, she needed the shock of an otherworldly experience unlike any she had ever had. Plus, he was a little nervous, himself though he did not show it. His mortal being was not exactly comfortable in modern times. His zone of comfort existed in his preceding mortal experience. He wanted to exude the maximum amount of confidence he could, so that so that Sally would find him easier to believe. Everything depended on it. Everything._

THE SPARK

Their first real conversation together, the night in the little cabin was a beginning. As Sally became more and more convinced she did have some kind of purpose in this strange soul's plans, they commenced nourishing their new friendship over strong, black coffee in the glow of lamplight. There was much to hash over. Questions were thrown out and answers given. They were not always easily comprehended answers or the preferred answers, but the attempt was made on Franklin's part with the knowledge that Sally would come to a firmer grasp of the situation and become a willing participant when she knew what could be accomplished and what was at stake.

As they sat at the oaken table in the early morning darkness, Franklin said, "This first meeting happened because we needed it." He smiled, charmingly. "I can have the gift of my mortal flesh whenever I feel it necessary. It was so necessary. I have waited almost a hundred and fifty years for it."

"And it seems I have waited a lifetime," Sally added.

"We must hasten to begin our work."

What in the hell is he talking about?

"This is a lot to take in, confusing, Mr. Pierce. What if I am too confused to concentrate on the work? Sally tried for a smile.

"Ah, it will be hard, but we must. I am filled with joy and hope for what we may accomplish. We must be brave, and we must buck up, ol' girl. Now we must get you home before the sun comes up."

There was no way that Sally could leave it alone. "So you can have the gift of your mortal flesh whenever you feel it necessary?" She asked tauntingly.

Franklin smiled back with sleepy eyes.

_And what a gift it is!_ Sally couldn't help thinking..

Franklin rose swiftly from his chair to grasp Sally's hands and pull her up out of her own seat.

_And where would they begin?_ Sally wondered. _May the Powers That Be have patience with their mortal weaknesses! A bounty of patience._

* * * * *

THE CONFIDANT

Sally's friend in England, Aine Fitzgerald was a pen friend she had never met in person. Aine had been a pen friend of Sally's third cousin and they started their own friendship when they began emailing each other over possible sources for art prints of coffee beans. Over many month's emailing their friendship had intensified to daily electronic epistles concerning their lives, friends, families, interests, avocations and vocations. Aine was an ER nurse. Who know what strange things she had witnessed or heard as people lay dying, or thinking they were. She was disabled herself, now and continued her education as she could to find employment situations she could handle with the disability. One of her interests which she had turned into a viable employment opportunity was in the field of hypnotherapy. She pushed on with determination until she became certified as a master hypnotherapist and hung up her shingle.

Since Aine was extremely intelligent, unbiased where Sally was concerned, kind-hearted, creative, tasteful and generally on top of things in the modern world, Sally felt she could confide things to her. It was a bonus that Aine did not personally know any of Sally's people, nor did Sally know any of Aine's. This was a receptive ground for mutual confiding on both their parts.

Aine was intelligent enough to be a skeptic. She was skeptical of much of the new age philosophies, treatments, but she also embraced some of it. In fact some of the connected homeopathies had helped her control her own pain and manage stress. This, in turn, had given her greater flexibility of motion. She had regular acupuncture treatments. If Aine felt like something was a crock, she would tell you, straight up, and she felt like quite a lot of things were a crock, as did Sally. However, she could not turn her back completely on many of the mystical art forms connected with medicine, reincarnation, travel through different time/space dimensions, and was fascinated by unsolved mysteries of the cosmos. Maybe they didn't believe some of the things completely, but as far as Sally and Aine were concerned they would retain their interest in them until someone proved they were not possible. In other words the burden of proof was not: prove it is true—but prove it is _not_ true.

One of Aine's areas of deep interest was history. She was fortunate to live in the heart of England, in an area that was literally bathed in history. The village of Royal Leamington Spa in Warwickshire, Aine's home was steeped in the history of the ages. The medieval Warwick Castle was nearby and Aine had played on the very grounds of the castle as a child. Stratford-on-Avon was a few minutes drive away by automobile or lorry, Stonehenge itself was not that far away. There was evidence around of all of the inhabitants of the ages including the ancient Romans, the Gauls, the Anglos, the Saxons, Nordic peoples, Celts and on and on back to the beginning of time.

There was once an inhabitant of Aine's village that was even an American. He was an American of considerable prominence and he had actually lived in a Leamington Spa dwelling that Aine could hit with a rock, if she threw one out the window.

"Sally, I am going to try to send you some pictures of where I live with my new digital camera. If you cannot get them, let me know and I will re-send using a different method, okay? Sending now!"

This is how the email read on that morning when Aine and Sally were becoming fast pen friends.

"Aine, you know I am not good at this computer stuff, but I will try to figure out a way to get into them, so send away!" Sally's email reply was on its way. Within seconds Sally was able to locate and view a filmstrip of ten or more shots of the picturesque homes and beautiful gardens in the Royal Leamington Spa. There was even a small lake with waterfowl swimming, surrounded by ancient trees. "Aine, what is the home you shot that is second on the filmstrip? Do you know who lives there now? Is it empty waiting to be inhabited? What do you know about it? I must say these are gorgeous shots!" Sally could not figure out why the home had such interest to her. Maybe Sir Lionel Atwill or Sir Laurence Olivier had once lived there. Probably not. Leamington Spa was sort of out of the way for such celebrities and certainly would have lacked the complete privacy they desired.

"Hah! Ya see! I knew that one would pique your interest. That is why I sent it to you. Many people have lived there over the years, but my dear Sally the most famous one was an American chap. Do you have any idea who it would be, now?"

Sally became nervous as she fired off a reply to the email. "No! Tell me! Who was the American?"

"Nathaniel Hawthorne!" That's who. Can you believe it? Nathaniel Hawthorne lived in that exact home. They have a plaque that says so."

Sally felt a chill then felt a warm flush starting at her throat and going to the top of her head. _This could not be. Nathaniel Hawthorne could not have lived there. He was a diplomat for a while from the US, but would he not have lived in London, the seat of the government to fulfill his term there?_ "Aine, this is almost unbelievable. Thank you so much for sending me this. I must do some research on the web and I will get back to you soon. I am on the scent of a mystery!"

"Well, whiff away, dearie! Let me know if you discover something juicy."

•

As Sally Weare pored over websites concerning Nathaniel Hawthorne and bios and mini-bios of the man, she could not help but recall how Clem had given her the beautiful huge book on American Presidents shortly before he had died. But he had also given her a pristine copy of The Scarlet Letter.

She had not read it since high school, but she had recently been reading the book jacket flaps which had information about Nathaniel and also there had been a printed leaflet in the pages of the book, with more information about the book and the man.

Maybe I should be taking Aine into my confidence about some of these things and soon, as I can not make much sense of it all on my own. There are too many coincidences. It is all too strange. Aine will put me in my place "straightaway" as she says, if I am losing a grip.

* * * * *

— _Most nights and an occasional day of intense preparation had left Franklin and Sally drained. Sally continued working hours at her thankless day job and came home to more work. She lived from paycheck to paycheck, but somehow was able to put enough food on the table for them both. They brainstormed, she did research on the computer for Franklin and printed it off for him to read while she was away. Franklin wanted to design bills and have them introduced into the legislature and passed. He wanted Sally to compile and organize data for the writing she needed to do to influence Congressmen, her part of it. Franklin was obsessed. He was making up for about one hundred and fifty years of lost time and a poor record in office. His mortal being had the benefit of rapid recovery in the afterworld, but Sally felt the need of a break and some womanly time (beauty treatments) for herself. How could this subject be broached?_

DRAWSTRING DILEMMA

"Franklin, I need a small amount of time to myself to do some womanly things. Is there an errand you could run, or something you need to attend to while I regroup and collect my thoughts? There are things about my person that need my undivided attention, and they are things not meant to be witnessed by others."

"Oh Sally. How utterly thoughtless of me. Of course."

"You could refresh yourself for awhile, charge your batteries, but please return to me by tomorrow evening residing in your mortal flesh." _And maybe I can sneak a quick call to Aine while you are gone, to give her an update_ , Sally was thinking.

"Yes, yes. Charge my batteries. That is a strange way to put it."

"We can have a nice supper. I'll make fried chicken, or Chicken Kiev, you would like that."

"Kiev? Is that Russian?"

"Why, most certainly. But don't worry. It doesn't have any strange sauces on it like borsht or anything. I must make this for you. Chicken Kiev it is, and Green Beans Au Gratin, Potato Puffs with mushroom sauce and pecan pie with ice cream on top!"

"Ah hah! You are trying to corrupt me. Maybe you are trying to turn me into a Cossack."

"You, Franklin Pierce, are incorruptible." Franklin picked up his top hat and left through the back door.

•

Sally spent the next morning shopping and preparing parts of the meal. She put the green bean casserole, potato puffs and cooked chicken into the refrigerator. Her mushroom sauce had just finished thickening, so she left it in the saucepan to cool. _Now all I have to do is set the table. The really big job will be tending to me._

She put a conditioning treatment on her hair and shaped her fingernails while she waited for the treatment to do its job. She then carefully trimmed the very ends of her hair with hairdresser's shears and climbed into the shower for a final rinse. She turned up the hot water and luxuriated in the warmth and steam, letting her mind go free of too many extra thoughts. _I have needed that so badly._ She had neglected herself for what seemed like months.

She stepped from the shower and put a towel on her head turban-style while she patted the rest of herself dry. Removing the towel-turban she combed out the tangles in her hair and fluffed it with her fingers. She then eased herself into clean sweats and started for the bedroom.

"Sally, I..."

When Sally rounded the corner and went into the room, she was startled to see Franklin. He was rising from a side chair. "I decided to come early. Sally smiled. _He waits a hundred and fifty years, but now cannot stay away for even twenty-four hours!_

Franklin had looked away sheepishly, but then he looked directly into her eyes.

Sally saw Franklin flush. Then the color left him as quickly as it came when he stood up. Then she noticed something peculiar about Franklin. He was perfectly groomed, as usual, except his hair was its unruly self. It was barely perceivable, but he seemed to be swaying back and forth. Then there was a loud thud as he hit the floor.

She knelt at his side then hurried to go get a wet cloth. When she returned, she pressed it to his face with tender care. "Franklin! Franklin! Wake up!" Franklin slowly came to after a couple of minutes. He opened his eyes and moaned.

"Here, Franklin, try to sit up." Franklin sat up slowly.

"Fainting Frankie. That is what they call me, you know!" Franklin laughed heartily, the color returning to his face. His voice echoed the jabs that had been flung at him in the Mexican War.

"Yes, I think I read that. That was rude of people to call you that—insensitive."

"It was true, however!"

"Franklin, what caused you to faint this time? Do you know?"

"I must have stood up too fast. I guess I had better lie down. I might faint again." Sally helped Franklin to her bed.

Franklin eased himself onto the bed and soon his head was comfortably on the pillow. My mortal flesh cannot...cannot adapt to all these new experiences...and the smell of, no doubt delicious, food you are cooking. I thought I had died and gone to heaven!" Franklin laughed loudly.

"Why don't you just relax a few minutes, maybe take a little nap." .

"Relax? Take a nap? Sally that will not be at all possible, with so much to think about, so many plans to make..." Sally smiled to as she witnessed Franklin's eyelids drifting downward and heard the gentle snoring sounds of a man in peaceful slumber.

_Loosen clothing._ This command from first aid handbooks entered Sally's brain. When she was sure he was out, Sally began loosening his confining garments. Hopefully his blood—or whatever was meandering through his veins—could flow more freely. She removed the cravat and started unbuttoning the top of Franklin's pleated shirt. She started to undo the waistband of his trousers, then hesitated, as she had no idea what kind fasteners she would encounter. _Are they buttons?_ As she loosened his trousers she caught a glimpse of what must be 1800's era undergarments. She could not contain her female curiosity—she had never thought much about it. _The undergarments—what did men wear in the 1800's? Union Suits, or what were the other alternatives?_ How did they fasten these things without elastic or snaps? Then she spotted the answer—there were strings or ribbons on each side of the waistband of these strange drawers. _Drawers? I always thought they were called drawers because you draw them up over your legs. Maybe they are named that because they were held up by drawstrings at some point in the history of clothing. I will have to look that up._ _So eerie that this has never crossed my mind, much. I have often found the study of women's underpinnings of old an enjoyable read, many of them torturous to wear for the wearer, to gawk at the diagrams of these things and even examine costuming from theatrical productions, but I have never considered much the underpinnings that men invented for themselves or found themselves wearing throughout history. Maybe I have been wrong to take such liberties, but I feel Mr. Pierce will understand and that he will have a more comfortable rest. Yes, he will forgive me._

With some effort, Sally was able to pull off each of his boots without disturbing him. He did let out a groan once and when he did, she whispered under her breath, "You rest here awhile, Franklin, and I will come for you when it is almost time to eat."

•

As Sally stood over the sink rinsing her sauce spoon, she felt Franklin's presence suddenly behind her.

"You got any potatoes for me to peel, ma'am?" Sally turned to face him. He had gotten his clothing back in order and said nothing about her interventions.

"No potatoes to peel, but you can light the candles—there are matches on the table—and watch my sauce. It may need stirring—don't let it scorch. I will go change into something nicer."

"It may need stirring." Franklin teased Sally. "Sally swatted at him with the wooden spoon, in jest. "Is there any sauce left? Why Sally, you have been tasting the sauce, with great abandon it appears! Must be downright tasty, yes indeedy!" His hearty laughter filled the room.

* * * * *

THE ART OF THE CURSE

"Damn it!" Sally clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. She had been trying to tighten a Phillip's-head screw, when the screw driver slipped off the head and poked the back of her hand. She was used to saying what she wanted to say. Franklin would not understand this. He was a religious and pious man. Additionally, his 1800's mind-set did not cotton to women uttering any expletives remotely like this. He glanced over at her with a serious scowl. Then he softened a bit when he noticed Sally shaking her injured hand. It was bleeding.

"Please let me help you with that, dearie. Have you a hammer?" Sally got a hammer out of a drawer. Franklin held the screw in his fingers, and struck it with the hammer. The hammer missed on the first try and hit his finger tips.

"Damn it!" He exclaimed with a huge grin. His second try was successful and he drove the screw a ways to start it, then finished with the screwdriver.

"Perfect!" Sally squealed. "Loosen up a little, Franklin. Yes, it is true, we should not go around cursing all of the time, but if you occasionally let one slip when you are really angry, or when hit your thumb with a hammer, I do not believe you will go straight to hell!"

"Sally, my dear girl, I can see the wisdom of what you are saying, but it appears that as time progressed, there is too much of it floating about now."

"We are saturated with it, these days. It has lost its effectiveness, as any over-used thing does, but you should lose your fear of letting it slip out."

"Girl, you are trying to corrupt me! Very well, I shall practice a few mild curses. Cover your ears! E-Gad! Horse hockey! Gol dern! Poppycock! Dad blast it! Bull—oops, omit that one! Horsefeathers! Go to blazes! Damnation! Well, how am I doing? What do you think, my dear? Am I grasping it?"

Sally's eyes bored into Franklin. He was smirking somehow deep inside. The smirk had not reached the surface of his being yet.

"Bull manure! There, I almost said it! Horse apples! Dog-pecker gnats! Teats on a boar!"

"Why Franklin Pierce. I am starting to think you are no stranger to cursing at all. You are toying with me!"

"Wait, wait, Sally. Tell me, did I pass 'curse-if-you-feel-the-need-to' test? Have I done well enough on it, now?"

"Oh, Franklin..."

"Yes, I have always cursed when with my closest gentlemen friends, Sally. It is something a little boy looks forward to being able to do—to grow up so he can curse with his men friends in closed quarters—but a real gentleman does not take it out of that setting. In closing I shall simply say, 'dreadful dog droppings!'"

Sally shook her head slowly. The big grin she was trying to hold onto was impossible to contain—and then there was Franklin, sitting in the wing-backed chair, a complete gentleman, impeccably dressed, well-bred, muttering one silly mild profanity after another. He occasionally looked up to see if she was paying attention.

"How am I doing?" He could not resist saying.

That is when Sally could no longer resist saying something of her own. "Let me borrow a line from the film, 'J-Men Forever.' I am going to ask you at this time to 'wait out in the damn hall!'"

Franklin grew more and more amused as he watched imaginary steam spewing from Sally's ears. "As you can see, I am _not_ moving."

* * * * *

— _Franklin and Sally were exhausted after another evening of brainstorming. Franklin was hitting a brick wall on his work for immigration policies. They fell into a deep sleep, Franklin on the sofa and Sally in a an overstuffed chair, her feet propped up on an ottoman. She awoke at 3:47 am. She cast a glance and Franklin and realized his soft breathing was a comfort to her. Here he was a mortal man, had been a mortal man in the past, but was sometimes in the ethereal other world that only souls are allowed to inhabit. How could this be? Sally got up to bathe her face in cool water and get a bargain-brand cola out of the refrigerator. She eased herself back into into her comfortable chair after downing half the contents of the cola can. At 3:57 Franklin awoke and saw Sally staring at him. He smiled. I truly have best of both worlds!_

THE SOUL LOWDOWN

Franklin went to the kitchen and returned after finishing the rest of Sally's cola which she had placed in the refrigerator. As he sat himself back down on the sofa, he turned to Sally. Her heavy eyelids fluttered once again.

"Franklin, you must tell me everything. I believe. You know I do. You know I believe or I wouldn't have been receptive to your contact in the first place. I believe, but I do not understand. I am curious, as you would be if you did not know, or had no memory of other-worldly experiences."

"Would it sound quite lame if I told you, 'I've been meaning to tell you that'?" Franklin's dry chuckle trailed off like a whippoorwill's evening cry.

"I know you will tell me. I know you cannot find, even as articulate and brilliant as you can be, the words of explanation for a mortal female of the new millennium."

"How right you are! Let me give you a summary and later you can ask questions about the details. There may be a few things I cannot answer you, as it would be a danger for a mortal to have the information. So let us start with the basics before we borrow trouble."

"All right—I think I am ready." _He has the kindest eyes! He will do me no harm._ Sally concentrated on these thoughts.

"Souls." Franklin began. "The first part is about human souls. Our human souls belong to soul families. We remain with our soul families throughout all eternity. Members of our soul families are always nearby, either in the flesh or watching, aware. Your family here on earth in the life you are living are or were part of your soul family, as were mine. My own mother, Anna Kendrick Pierce, and my father Benjamin Pierce are part of my soul family, as were my brothers and sisters. Now, this is the good part. Are you listening?"

"Yes, go on, please do."

"Our soul families, mine and yours, are all part of a slightly larger soul family that has always been together and always will, as soul friends, companions, spiritual 'cousins.' My soul and your soul are somewhat intertwined. There is a bond that is eternal. You have known all this before but do not know it now as you are on the earthly plane. Our soul entities permanently reside in the soul world, the hereafter, paradise, with our Maker."

"If we reside in the hereafter, why am I here and you are there? Why are we not existing at the same time, if we have had work to do, together?"

"Sally, I know it is almost impossible for you to understand from your worldly perspective, but I shall try to help you see. Firstly, eternity is such a long, long time. It is forever. Secondly, we are never perfect as souls. We are constantly striving for perfection, which is unattainable, and souls must do this as individuals. There are wiser souls in the hereafter that advise us. They are our soul advisors. 'Soul advisors' is an earthly term as we souls do not have a name for them. It is an understood thing. The soul advisors are the matriarchs and patriarchs of our soul family. They explain to us how we must grow, what is required for us to advance spiritually. It is not required that we follow their guidance, but we always do. We may not want to and we may protest and carry on, but we always end up doing what they suggest. Eventually we see the why of it. We see that only by sacrificing our immediate wants for the greater good of the heavenly scheme will we succeed in maturing our own souls. It is for our own good, but also for the greater good."

"So, I am ready for some examples, I suppose. Let's start with you!"

"All right, Sally, you have me in your sights and this next point will amuse and shock you. We BOTH protested and mightily."

"How..."

"Our souls, girl! It was put to me that while we were luxuriating in the hereafter, that my own soul should journey into the baby born to Anna and Benjamin. Of course, I did not know it, as a mortal babe just born, but when I was born, I was surrounded by part of my heavenly soul family whose souls already inhabited the bodies of my earthly family."

"But what..."

"From the hereafter side I knew and you knew that we would not be able to have any helpful contact for the duration of my earthly lifespan. You would remain in the hereafter while I did this. Remember now, a human lifespan is but a tiny speck in eternity. Still our souls did NOT want to go along with the master plan. What we were encouraged to comprehend and finally did, is that my mortal life had a purpose. It does not seem it was much of a good purpose in retrospect. I was a valuable tool to my mortal family who loved and needed me. I was a valuable necessity to my dear friends later in my life, but I was inadequate to my earthly wife, Jane and I was inadequate to my country."

"Inade... "

"Wait! I said inadequate. In inadequate, I mean ineffective. Ineffective but _necessary_. I was vitally necessary to play a part required. I had to be inadequate as a husband to Jane for her soul to grow. I had to be inadequate as a president for the country to grow and go through a beneficial transition. I was a mortal instrument.

After my mortal body died in 1869, our souls, yours and mine were reunited on the heavenly plane where we were able to communicate freely and make positive connections once again. Can you imagine?"

"What?"

"Can you imagine the ruckus our souls kicked up when we learned that the honor of _your_ presence was requested on the mortal plane in an earthly existence in 1949? That is when you were born into the Weare family and part of our larger soul family had already been in place as your parents and family members, as they all had growth experiences to go through requiring an earthly tour of duty, as did you. Apart again for the span of an earthly lifetime, a deep sadness in us both, but we were still trying to fulfill our souls' needs to the best of our abilities. Not only have we been separated on many occasions in such a manner, but those other friends and companions we hold so dear have also been separated from us many times, and we did not have the mutual support and caring for some of our earthly lifetimes, and yes I am waiting. . "

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to ask me"

"To ask you what?"

"Think. You know. You are about to ask it now." Sally's smile was one of understanding, sadness, and recognition..

"Okay. Here it is, I am asking. Why have you been allowed to come now, in your mortal flesh. How were you able to get away with _that_ , my friend?"

"And here is my answer. Let us finish our naps and I will tell you all you need to know, on the morrow." Sally groaned as Franklin stretched himself out on the sofa and once again closed his eyes.

"Franklin, I want to know!"

"Shhhhhh. You shall. What I have explained is too much already. You need some time. Some time to drink it all in." Sally began to drift. She came to with a start when the radio alarm went off in a nearby room a few of minutes later.

"I'm a soul man, da da da da da, soul man..." _Sam and Dave_... Sally pried herself up and ran to hit the button. When she returned to her chair, she turned to look at Franklin. He did not open his eyes, but his grin took up quite a bit of his face.

* * * * *

— _One day, Sally could take it no more—she called her confidant in Royal Leamington Spa and began to spill her guts. She decided to withhold the whole of the infomation and to deliver it in bits and pieces over a period of time._

WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?

"What would you say if I told you that an entity from the 1800s had made contact with me, taken me on horseback to a cabin to try to explain the whole debacle?" Sally decided she would blow some of her international calling card minutes on this one.

"Well, Sally, seeing as how it is you, I would say it is possible. Was it a dream? Are you pulling my leg?"

"No, not a dream, no not pulling your leg, Aine. There is a possibility that I have gone insane and of course do not know it—do I seem insane in any of our other conversations, in any way?"

"No, you don't, no you don't, dear. You have the active imagination required of creative types. Your descriptions are colorful, as they would be. You have had your bouts with depression, as have I, but you are nonetheless levelheaded. Is this what you have been hinting at? What is consuming you so, that you said you would explain to me later?"

"I am afraid that it is. There is so much to tell, and I have been afraid that you would feel that I am losing it and try to intervene in some way. That is why I have held off. But you are the one person I feel could make an effort to understand and not overreact to the information I am dishing out."

"Are you intending to tell me more? I am counting on it, and I promise I will not interfere, or turn you in to the mental health department, or tell your nearest relations to appoint a conservator for you. Is that what you are worried about? Don't worry about that, luv, wouldn't do it. As if I were in your shoes, that is how I would want to be treated. And remember this. These islands have a lot of strange characters and I know a few of them. Tales they have told me are quite unbelievable, but these people are not insane either. I suppose we are more receptive to that sort of thing in the U. K.

"I was hoping for that answer. I am about to give you a summary of the events."

"Fire away! This is costing you money you don't have, so I will digest the tidbits and call you back tomorrow and give you my opinion. How is that?"

"Perfect. First I must ask you a question. You remember Nathaniel Hawthorne? The American writer that lived in a place not far from you?"

"Yes, of course, and it is truly less that a stone's throw away, believe me."

"Do you know anything about him, other than his writing? Do you know who his best friend was?"

"I have probably read it, but not off hand."

"Never mind then, I will come back to that part, later. After Clem died, I was reading a book he gave me on American Presidents. I saw a photo of this man in the book. I tried to ignore the book, but I would have to pick it back up again, and again. The man in the photograph, though long dead, was reaching out to me, it seemed."

"Yes."

"I got it in my mind that he was trying to contact me from beyond—that he was desperate to do so."

"Happens all the time, dear. They have shows on the telly about it. Even contact with dead animals."

"I could take it no more. I got what spirit contacting instruments I had at hand. A pendulum given to me, an old Ouija board from my teenage years. I started to get messages, they were hard to decipher, but I did get them. It was enough almost, to just know he really was trying to contact me and I was not having these compelling feelings for no reason. I have felt the presence of my dead relatives and friends before, but this was different: fierce and compelling."

"What kind of things was he saying?"

"Well there were many messages, too long to go into—I will email them to you, but more than a month ago, he appeared in my doorway one night. He beckoned me to go with him and I did—knowing he was an ethereal creature and if I went, it might cause me to turn into an ethereal creature myself, and not be able to ever return. The feeling was so strong, I had to take that chance."

"Oh, this is good! I am most grateful you did not turn into an ethereal creature, yourself. Did he explain any of this to you?"

"So far he has only explained bits and pieces, but he can have the gift of his mortal flesh whenever he deems it necessary, you know, seem to be human."

"Oh, I think I am starting to see. Is that the only time you have been graced with his companionship, then?"

"No, he has returned quite often, and we are sort of a couple."

"Pffshhhttt!"

"What—oh, you are laughing uncontrollably. Is that it?"

"I'm sorry. It just sounded funny, 'we are a couple' and if you think about how it sounds, I am sure you would agree. I think you have more splainin' to do, Lucy." Sally thought this statement of Anna's just as goofy, ''splainin' to do' with a British accent. _Really_!"

"Oh, yeah, it does sound stupid, but I guess what I meant to say is that he comes and goes. He has explained that we have tasks to do together to advance our souls and we are joined in _that_ way. He comes to me as a mortal man, then leaves and goes elsewhere, as a spiritual soul. In his mind we are a unit of two on a mission. We have been separated because our souls had different jobs to do. It is complicated, and I don't know where it is going, but that is all I will say for now. You are right. You need to digest this for twenty-four hours or even longer then email me when you would like to talk on the phone. I will see if there is any more I am ready to part with, okay?"

"Quite okay—and a thought has just occurred to me. Would you mind if I told your story to some friends of mine who are involved in this sort of thing? You would be anonymous, of course. I could tell you their spin on it when I call."

"Perfect. That would be an excellent idea. No real names, please, as you mentioned. Now would you like to know the name of the person who is visiting me—no, I am not going to just give it to you, I will just say that it was Nathaniel Hawthorne's best friend. If you figure it out, you must not tell anyone his name either. Have we got a deal?"

"We have got a deal. Thanks for sharing."

"Pfshhhht! Thanks for letting me."

"Oh, one more thing, Sally."

"What would that be?"

"Be sure your vaccinations are all up to date!"

* * * * *

WHO WAS FRANKLIN PIERCE?

Franklin Pierce was a sad, sad story. To discover who Franklin Pierce was, one should first take a look at Nathaniel Hawthorne's _The Life of Franklin Pierce_. It was a campaign biography he wrote in 1852. Was it accurate—or biased—because of their friendship?

Imagine if you will, that you, yourself were asked to write a bio of your best friend with the purpose to help them get elected to the presidency of our nation. You loved the person and had a deep bond. Could you be objective? Imagine that some of the facts you did not already know were fed to you by the friend, himself. Also consider that any weaknesses the friend had might be either explained, downplayed, or avoided and the strengths emphasized. Could this in any way result in the accurate accounting of a life?

Most later biographers of Pierce and Hawthorne seem to believe that it was.

Hawthorne was a meticulous writer and labored intently over his work. Moreover, Franklin knew that if he were elected, he would some day be in history books, and his life would be gone over with a fine-toothed comb. While he may not have considered this initially, as the bio was being written, he would surely have realized it, as the process evolved and would not have allowed extensive sugar-coating.

He was not known for dishonesty. His life was pretty much out there for everyone to look at, warts and all.

What is charming about Hawthorne's account is that it is written by such a good friend, a friend who has been around him in so many circumstances, and who has shared many man to man, heart to heart discussions with him. The friendship, glows, shines through the writing. It is also very special in that it includes parts of Franklin's own journal from his service in the Mexican War.

General Winfield Scott had ignored Franklin's contributions and had in fact made him out to be a coward. No fellow soldiers ever came forward to dispute Franklin's accountings in the journals, however, and he was admired by his men.

•

It was late Fall when Franklin Pierce was born in Hillsborough County, New Hampshire on November 23, 1804. He was the sixth child born to Benjamin Pierce and Anna Kendrick Pierce, and they would have one more. Benjamin had lost his first wife, Elizabeth Andrews and they were parents to one daughter. He then remarried and started a second family. Eight children at all, then under their roof. What were the characters of his parents like? Well, they could not have had better characters for the times and requirements of their lives.

Benjamin Pierce was orphaned at a young age and raised by an uncle in Chelmsford (Lowell) Massachusetts. The family had to work hard and little, or no emphasis was placed on education. He was plowing a field at the age of 18 when he heard the cry that blood was "being spilt" at Lexington and Concord. He aborted his plowing, grabbed a gun and literally ran off to enlist in the army. So there started his military experience which would be a good friend to him. His service throughout the Revolution, including the Battle of Bunker Hill, was exemplary as he started at the lowest rank and left as a company commander. He was kept as a veteran until 1784. This valuable experience allowed him to be a brigade major in the militia of Hillsborough County, New Hampshire where he had purchased land after his war service. He was then elected to the state legislature. He had natural leadership qualities, and serving off and on in military groups, he had attained the rank of general. He was an intense democrat in the way of Jefferson and Madison.

Franklin's mother Anna was a good mother and she was a good helpmate to her husband. She had a little more education than he did. They farmed the land and ran a tavern in their home that was on a stagecoach route. From his father Franklin learned patriotism and from his mother he learned religion.

Others, neighbors and family members, remembered Franklin's slimness, fair skin, light curly hair, blue-gray eyes, his cheerful, outgoing, sweet and kindly disposition. His childhood was ideal and rich in texture. He had the love and care of his parents and six siblings, seven including his oldest half sister, a beautiful countryside to play in, and streams to fish in. He and Nathaniel had both loved to skate on frozen ponds in winter, under the moonlight. In addition, he had the company of his father's old war buddies to inspire him with their dramatic stories. Since Benjamin was heavy into politics, Franklin also was privy to and influenced by discussions that floated all about him.

His father regretted his own lack of education, so he made sure Franklin had one. After rudimentary early studies, Franklin was sent to the academy at Hancock then the academy at Francestown.

At Francestown he was able to stay part of the time with the family of Peter Woodbury, Benjamin's dear old friend. Madam Woodbury gave Franklin excellent motherly care when he was in this situation and he greatly appreciated it.

By the time Franklin was sixteen, in 1820 he was prepared for college and entered Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine. The next year, Nathaniel Hawthorne entered this same college.

Nathaniel did not care to go over their college experiences in his biography, because they were typical male college experiences and not for publication. One can imagine the mischievous smile on Nathaniel's face as he is mentioning this part, but also keep in mind that Nathaniel was extremely shy and it was fortunate that the also shy, but slightly more outgoing and sometimes boisterous Pierce could draw him out of his shell. They were both members of the Athenaean Society. There were two main societies at the college and the Athenaean was basically progressive or democrat and the other society was conservative.

Franklin and Nathaniel lost two of the classmates they had there, later in life, Zenas Caldwell and Jon Cilley, and these two deaths would grieve and impact and them.

Franklin's small class was mentored by Professor Stowe, but Franklin was not inclined to study much until the last year or two of college. His grades were, in fact abominable. He then pulled the proverbial fat out of the fire and came in third in class rank—difficult because of his poor earlier work and marks. He also held a chairmanship of a society committee and received the admiration of its members for his skill and hard work.

At Bowdoin, he entered a college military company as a soldier and became an officer. There he gained the posture of military bearing in his body language, and hoped to make the general proud of his last son, no doubt. Although kind and gentle, Pierce also had the fearless spirit required of a military man.

An interesting tidbit of Pierce's college years is that he taught a country school over one winter's vacation.

Bowdoin College. This experience was invaluable for the friendships and connections formed here: best friend for life, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Horatio Bridge, and Jon Cilly who would be killed in a strange duel. He graduated from Bowdoin in 1824.

Back at the old home place in 1825, Franklin again got a large dose of patriotism and politics when Benjamin threw a large celebration for veterans of the Revolution. They ranged in age from fifty-nine to ninety. As they celebrated and presumably imbibed, they re-told battle stories of great heroism, bloody skirmishes, crafty spy work and glorious homecomings. Franklin was forever impressed. He wanted very much to also be able to contribute something to his country.

•

Franklin had decided to go into law and was taken into the office of Levi Woodbury of Portsmouth. Levi was son of Peter, Benjamin's old friend, and he was only twenty-seven when appointed to the bench of the supreme court of the state. General Benjamin Pierce's influence had been instrumental.

As Franklin entered the law office, time had passed and Levi Woodbury had been elected governor, but lost the second election and returned to the practice of law.

After two years with Woodbury, Franklin then went to the law school of Northampton in Massachusetts, and worked in the law office of Judge Parker of Amherst. He was admitted to the bar in 1827 and began his law practice back home in Hillsborough.

Dealing with the heartbreak of losing his first trial case brought him to the realization that he "knew nothing."

After all that, he still had much more to learn, work and strive for in the practice of law, so he set himself about the business at hand.

This same year, Benjamin Pierce was elected governor of New Hampshire. The next year he was defeated, then re-elected the following year. It was hard for Franklin to not be side-tracked and the seeds of active politics were being planted in his head. He had been deeply impressed by the political beliefs of a triumphant Andrew Jackson.

In 1829, almost predictably, Franklin was elected to the legislature of the state by the citizens of Hillsborough County. He served four years and was elected speaker by a considerable majority. Characteristics observed in this young man were courtesy, firmness, good judgment and dedication to preparation.

In 1833, he was elected to congress. That would mean he was twenty-nine years of age when he accomplished this feat. He became an eloquent orator, but often spent his hours at the drudgery of the judiciary committee.

The first fork in the road: during his four years of service in the House of Representatives he began forming an opinion that would lead to his political downfall. It was the decision that the pros and cons of slavery were decisions that should be made by individual states and not by the federal government. He would never waver in this belief. He was not in any way pro-slavery himself, but he felt that each state should have its own legislation on the matter. That was, after all, the democratic way to do it.

In 1837, Franklin was elected to the senate, under the presidency of Van Buren. It was here that he watched the dramatics of such giants as Calhoun, Webster, Clay, Benton and Buchanan.

When Van Buren was defeated in 1840, the Whigs gained control of the government. Franklin became a great influence in trying to keep all of the hard work of the democrats on the table. He was highly praised by the Honorable A. P. Nicholson for his efforts. In 1843, Franklin resigned from the senate.

He and Nathaniel had been mostly separated for the sixteen years he had been serving in the government. They had had a few meetings, but they were minimal. When they were able to spend some more time together, Nathaniel noticed his friend's growth as a person, his rounding out, but their old familiar friendship remained the same. Interestingly, Nathaniel also remarked that Franklin's physical constitution was such that he continued to grow in height from age twenty-one to age twenty-five. He also noticed that the spark of political ambition that he had once seen gleaming in Franklin's eye had been diminished by his foray into the battleground of congress. He now had a taste for a domestic and private life.

This brings us to a second fork in the road of Franklin's life, a pivotal decision that would lead him down a gloomy path. In 1834, he married Jane Means Appleton, daughter of former Bowdoin president, Rev. Dr. Appleton. They were married on November 19th at the Means mansion in the presence of family and friends. Jane was probably introduced to Franklin by her brother-in-law, a professor at Bowdoin named Alpheus Packard. Individually Jane and Franklin were accomplished and wonderful people. When combined, their ill-suitedness to one another was possibly destructive to their very spirits.

Jane was educated, cultured and attractive. An extremely thin brunette, she was accomplished at piano, and domestic arts such as needlework, dressmaking, correspondence and such. She was an aristocrat, well-connected and well-informed on current topics. It has been hinted that her family did not completely approve of her matrimonial selection.

There can be no doubt that Franklin had accomplished much for his young age and would be able to support her. He was popular. His father was governor of a state. What could it have been? Was it most probably that the Appleton elders' religious beliefs and pious ways found a foreignness in the boisterous and fun-loving ways of the Pierce family? Had they heard rumors of Franklin's imbibing? Maybe they had hoped Jane would marry a minister, but as time marched on they realized that that was not going to happen and accepted it.

Franklin Pierce, like a lot of just-married grooms, decided to make the best of it and move forward. A possible thought he had, was that maybe he would grow on them. There was no doubt he loved Jane and was devoted to her.

What could Jane's thoughts possibly have been? Was she getting older and starting to worry? Were all of her friends married or starting to get married? Did she think that this is what is expected of us as human beings, as laid down in the Bible, and she must do her part? Franklin Pierce was arguably one of the most handsome men of his times, articulate, well-dressed, well-groomed, polite, with a bright future. Who would not want him? Were her own friends advising her of this, to take that leap, and she got caught up in the drama of it all? Did she love him? We will never know, but she had a strong like for him, and they would have three children. Some kind of attraction was going on there, for a time, anyway.

* * * * *

FRANKLIN PIERCE, THE MEXICAN WAR, AND MORE

If we pause here and look at a time line of the events in Franklin's life, it would give a better perspective. He was first elected to congress in 1833. He married Jane in 1834. They had a baby boy, Franklin, in 1836 and the baby did not live long.

Franklin said on the death of his baby, Franklin, Jr., "I received this morning a letter from my dear kind mother-in-law from which I learn that I am no longer what I rejoice to be, a father. The little boy died on the fifth. He who has lived thirty years in this world of ours—seen its vanity and felt its miseries—ought not to suffer at or look over the death of an infant, but alas what has our experience or what has philosophy to do with the feelings of a father..."

In 1837, Franklin was elected to the senate. In 1838, he left Hillsborough and moved to Concord, New Hampshire, its capital. In 1839, Frank Robert Pierce was born. In that same year, Franklin's beloved father died in the mansion he had constructed on his acreage. The log cabin he had built himself out of forest trees when he returned from the Revolution had long since grown too small for his family. He died at age eighty-one, having lived to see a son of which he could become very proud..

In 1840, Whigs gained control of congress. In 1841, a third son, Benjamin (Benny) was born to the Pierces. In 1842, Franklin resigned congress. In 1843, Frank Robert, the Pierces' second-born son died of typhus at about age four.

In 1846, Pierce turned down the office of Attorney General offered to him by Polk. In turning down this post he said that he wanted "never again to be separated from my family for any considerable length of time, except at the call of his country in time of war..."

At this time, he also alluded to the fact that Mrs. Pierce's health was very delicate when they were in Washington and had gotten even worse.

Between 1842 and 1847, Franklin remained interested in the politics of New Hampshire and mainly continued to nudge the democratic party into remaining loyal to its ideals. The state of New Hampshire offered Franklin all sorts of honors, including nominating him for governor, and he turned all of the offers down.

On his own domestic front and also weighing heavy on his mind no doubt, was the knowledge that his parents and in-laws were growing older and more frail, he had lost two small, precious boys and only one remained at home, and Jane was growing more and more ill with TB and depression.

One of Jane's female relatives often visited when Jane was having one of her weak spells, and Jane, though sickly, continued to be adamant that Franklin get out of politics, which she hated, and do nothing but practice law in Concord.

She was not a mean woman, but kindly and compassionate, she was, however, grief-stricken, sad-faced, sluggish and depressed as she had every right to be. She stood firm in her "leave politics" sentiment. She was also a staunch abolitionist. Her demeanor did not change, however, when Franklin did as she requested. She did not "cheer up" and often grew worse. He was devoted, attentive and tried to humor her.

He made a pact with himself that he would stay close-by with only one exception—a war. 1847 brought such an exception, the Mexican War. He was the first volunteer enlisted in Concord. He was commissioned as brigadier general in the army and would have serving under him regiments from the far north and the far west of the Union.

Nathaniel Hawthorne went down to see him off in Boston. Franklin had already said his tearful family good-byes and Nathaniel reported that he was in good spirits with hustle and bustle all about.

From Boston, the soldiers went to Newport where the bark Kepler would take three companies of the Ninth Regiment of Infantry and commander Colonel Ransom. They set sail from Newport on May 27 for the area of Vera Cruz, Mexico. Franklin would later tell Nathaniel that it was a long and tedious journey on a sea as smooth as glass with no chance for calamity. Their voyage lasted almost one month, exactly.

We are fortunate that Franklin kept a journal of his tour of duty in Mexico. He wrote it only for the eyes of his friends and family members, but he later allowed some of it into the Hawthorne biography.

On June 28, when on terra firma near Vera Cruz, Franklin commenced his observations with pen and paper in short jottings.

The first horrible things the men encounter are pestilence and "the vomito." Mexicans there remark that most of Pierce's men will be dead before being able to march inland, from illness. There has been a stampede of wild equines that were captured and 1500 of the 2000 have gotten away because of "scoundrels working for the quartermaster's department."

Although the conditions are dismal, camping on the beach for the men is not unpleasant. Franklin has been ordered to commence inland with the men, but the horses and pack animals required have been lost in the stampede.

By July 5, they are able to join 500 men at Virgara and again pitch tents on the beach. They are hounded by fierce thunderstorms and lightning. Wild equines are re-captured every day and soldiers attempt to saddle break, harness break and bridle break the animals. Hearing the approach of gunfire, Franklin rallies the troops to fight the guerillas.

During this encampment, one of Franklin's men foolishly tries to visit a cemetery out of curiosity, taking no more than one private with him. They are both taken prisoner by the guerillas—the private is able to escape and relay the news. Franklin sends a detachment to search for the captive to no avail. After returning empty-handed, more of the men get vomito possibly due to exposure during their search.

Franklin describes the characters of his officers in his journal and has nothing but praise for them. Horses have finally arrived from New Orleans, and Colonel Ransom proceeds toward San Juan with eighty wagons. Franklin remains behind and will march the remaining men to San Juan, choosing a time of day that will produce the fewest heat- related ailments. They leave very early in the morning. Franklin's units cannot move with any speed as the wagon wheels get mired in the sand and the wild mules and horses are not completely broken and fighting their harnesses. When they finally make it to San Juan, they are told falsely that five hundred guerillas are close and readying for attack. Close to Telema Nueva on the way to Vera Cruz they are attacked by Mexicans. Six are wounded and seven horses are shot. A rumor goes that forty Mexicans were lost, but Franklin thinks that is an exaggerated number.

Finally they are able to unite with more troops and commands resulting in more skirmishes. In one encounter escopette balls rain down on them, Colonel Bonham's horse gets shot, and Franklin himself gets an escopette ball through the rim of his hat. This results in sunburn on the face where the hat rim is blown away.

Franklin gets to make his headquarters in the hacienda of Santa Anna which has been taken over for several hours. Part of a much-needed bridge had been destroyed and Franklin is able to locate captain Bodfish who hails from Maine with much experience in construction.

Franklin asks of him, "How long?"

"The more men I have the faster it will go. With five hundred men, it can be done in four hours." Bodfish replies.

He is supplied the men and it is done in three hours and ready for wagons. The work was exhausting and Franklin wants to rest his men but thinks it prudent to march on.

About eight miles outside of Japala, Franklin gets the use of another of Santa Anna's elegant haciendas as a base. A foolish young soldier that wandered away with a couple of friends comes back with a severe thigh wound. Pierce reaches Puebla on the seventh of August without the loss of a single wagon, and with twenty-four hundred men in tact.

At this point Franklin's journal ends.

•

General Winfield Scott, the commander of the whole military operation had been at Puebla with the main army waiting for reinforcements. When Pierce and the others arrived, Scott began his march to Mexico City.

On the nineteenth of August, the battle of Contreras was fought. The original plan was for a group of American forces to move against Valencia's left flank. Simultaneously, another larger group of American soldiers would attack Valencia from the front as a distraction from the flank activities. Something went awry with the left flank plan and the American troops attacking from the front had to bear the brunt of the confrontation with 7,000 of Valencia's entrenched and veteran soldiers. The new and inexperienced American soldiers were only 4,000 in number.

They had to scramble over the sharp, broken and pointed rocks in the crater of an extinct volcano.

The artillery barrages from the Mexicans were intense, but the trajectory of same was "off" and high. Pierce had never fought under such intense fire. He was the only officer on a mount and leaped his horse onto a prominence to address the colonels and captains as they passed, spurring them on to victory. It was then that his horse stumbled and wedged its hoof into a crevice, breaking its leg. When it fell, it landed on Pierce. Pierce was semi-conscious with crushing injuries and a badly sprained left knee which bore the full weight of the horse. When an orderly helped Pierce to the shelter of a rock outcropping, a shell exploded close to their heads almost killing them both. Dr. Ritchie, from Pierce's brigade was summoned and gave rudimentary first aide. Pierce insisted on going back into battle against the doctor's advice. He located the horse of a mortally wounded officer and was assisted into the saddle. The assisting officer advised him that he would not be able to stay in the saddle.

"Then you must tie me on!" Pierce demanded.

As the fighting continued until nine p. m., the commanders realized no headway was being made, so they decided to reposition all the troops for a massive attack at dawn. Pierce, unable to sleep because of the intense pain went about helping set up the positions and battle plans.

At daylight, Pierce led the troops in the frontal attack while reinforcements attacked from the flank and from the rear. The fighting continued until one p. m. when Franklin was ordered to move his troops to the rear to head off Santa Anna—they discovered that he was approaching from another direction. Pierce enlisted the aid of an American national living in Mexico to explain the best routes and available roads they could use.

This man, Colonel Noah E. Smith commented that at the time Pierce was thin, worn down by fatigue, severely suffering but there was a "glow in his eye that showed within him a spirit for conflict."

General "Fuss and Feathers" Winfield Scott meanwhile was near the church at Coyacan issuing orders to his staff officers. He had heard of Pierce's injuries, and when Pierce and Smith rode up, Scott told Pierce he was not "fit to be in the saddle." Pierce argued back that he was.

Scott replied, "You are rash, we shall lose you and we cannot spare you!"

"For God's sake, general, don't say that! This is the last great battle and I must lead my brigade!"

Scott then gave the order for Pierce to advance with his brigade. They advanced miserably over marshy, cobbled terrain. Franklin had to leave his horse on the other side of an impassable, un-jumpable ditch. He hurried onward but soon felt faint and dropped under enemy fire. When they tried to take him from the field, he protested. "No, don't carry me off, let me lie here!" The enemy fire was intense, but that same enemy was finally driven from the field.

Santa Anna offered a flag of truce. Generals Pierce, Quitman and P.F. Smith were appointed to draw up the terms of the armistice. It was a compliment to be chosen for this task. When this was completed, Pierce was able to go to the quarters of General Worth at Tacubaya for a few hour's rest.

The generals of the war expected the armistice to prevent further bloodshed, but they were wrong. After a few days' interval the strikes continued against the Americans.

On September 8th a battle of heavy bloodshed occurred at Molino del Rey. General Worth, with only three thousand troops attacked fourteen thousand Mexicans and drove them to the castle at Chepultepec. The commander-in-chief dispatched Pierce to take his men and advance to the aid of Worth's division. They did so hastily.

Pierce had no way of knowing that Worth had just won the battle, but he placed his men between Worth's and the retreating Mexicans, thus drawing the fire. One shell flew out of the castle and spooked Franklin's horse. The man and the horse almost plunged into a precipice. He and his men stayed on to remove wounded, confiscate abandoned ammunition and deflect attacks from the Mexican stragglers.

Most of the battles were over. Pierce was not in the best condition by this time, but he remained on the field at Molino del Rey as ordered. There he remained until it was certain there would be no attack until the next day. He returned to General Worth's quarters and there he became extremely ill. He was bedridden for thirty-six hours. The castle was being stormed by Pillow and Quitman. Pierce's brigade had gone with them and suffered many casualties.

Colonel Ransom, leading the 9th regiment was himself killed by a bullet through the head in this last battle of the war.

The Mexicans were being led by Santa Anna himself and strong resistance was prevailing. The Americans had established themselves on the perimeters of the city of Mexico, but there were plans afloat to storm the citadel at daybreak. Learning this from intelligence, Franklin tried to pull himself up out of bed. He was very weak and Captain Hardcastle convinced him to conserve his strength for future battles. Franklin agreed, but rose out of bed in the night and took himself to the trenches. It was then that he discovered that Santa Anna had retreated. The war in the Valley of Mexico was over.

Franklin remained in Mexico until December, tying up loose ends. After nine months he would be returning home to those he loved, satisfied that he had done what he could in the military tradition of his family. His oldest brother, Benjamin had also been in the service of his country for many years, most of the time in Florida. Franklin was committed that he would not leave Jane and his son again. Upon his departure from Mexico, his soldiers and friends presented him with a wonderful commemoration sword.

After Franklin had departed, the remaining members of the old Army still in Mexico had a dinner. They were about fifty in number, and they were the brave men who had all volunteered to serve in this war. A younger officer was called upon to make a toast at the occasion. His toast was to the health of General Pierce. He then sang his praises as one of the old officers stood and reiterated that no one had commanded more respect than Pierce.

•

When Franklin was back home again in Concord with his family, he returned to the practice of law. He was and extremely effective attorney, but there seems to be a feeling that it lacked something for him. Jane and Franklin were able to be real parents together and enjoy watching Benny, their only surviving son, learn and grow. Benny went to school, but his parents lovingly continued to teach him many more things at home. In addition, Franklin took him out and instructed him in the manly arts of fishing and hunting, how to handle a firearm and shoot it. These four years at Concord were the happiest of Jane's life.

Franklin continued involvement in the politics of the state, but at a subdued level. Every attempt to give him offices, appointments and positions was politely refused by Pierce at this time.

In 1852, Case, Houston, Douglas, Marcy and Buchanan were all trying for the democratic nomination. This put the party in shambles. It could not unite because of the diversity of the candidates and constant bickering in the party. Out of nowhere, someone suggested Pierce. He was attractive because all the factions could unite under him and not splinter. No one had yet axes to grind against him.

They also knew they needed southern votes to win and Pierce had southern sympathies. In fact Jefferson Davis was a good friend. So, from out of nowhere his name was thrown in, and from nowhere did anyone protest. It was a movement that became self-propelled, without much discussion or thought by anyone. He won the nomination of the party on the forty-ninth ballot.

And who would his opponent be? None other than Winfield Scott, his former commander in the Mexican War.

General Scott wanted the presidency so badly, that he ran a tasteless smear campaign against his opponent. According to Scott, Pierce spent the whole Mexican War as a coward—when he wasn't injuring himself clumsily, he was vomiting or doubled up with gas attacks. He knew differently. This ploy backfired and it was a large win for Pierce.

It is said that Jane fainted when she heard the news of his election. Benny had told his mother that he knew she did not want to go to Washington and that he did not want to go himself. Franklin tried to convince Jane that the Washington experience would be wonderful for Benny's future.

Then tragedy of all tragedies happened. The family was traveling by train to Washington when the train derailed. Benny was killed right before their eyes and they were badly shaken, themselves. When Franklin went to Benny's aid, he thought his boy was just knocked unconscious, but when he lifted his head, he realized that the back of it was completely crushed.

This incident finished Jane off completely. She was sucked into a downward vortex. She spent hours writing letters to her dead son. There was no doubt that she blamed Franklin. She did not attend the inauguration and there was no inaugural ball. The country grieved with the Pierces.

America was already starting to divide over the slavery question. Franklin believed it was a "state's rights" issue. His appointment of Jefferson Davis as Secretary of War, his enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act, and his support of the Kansas Nebraska Act were actions historians would decide pushed America into the War Between the States.

But did they? It is an arguable point, and many today feel that war was imminent, anyway, without Franklin's help. He was extremely young when elected and he spent a good deal of his energy trying to keep his older political cronies happy.

Cass, Houston, Marcy, Buchanan and Douglas—would the election of any of these men prevented that war? How about General Winfield Scott? Would the War Between the States have been prevented with just the election of a different man? It is hard to imagine that it would have.

Franklin was successful in implementing the Gasden Purchase during his term, but by the time for the election of 1856, he had burned his political bridges and was not nominated.

In 1857, he returned to New Hampshire beaten down. He and Jane went to separate residences for a short period to do work they each needed to do, he record-keeping and business and she domestic chores. Jane was not improving and he took her first to the Caribbean and then to Europe in an attempt to improve her emotional and physical health. Warm springs and mineral baths had been recommended. Franklin took French lessons to occupy some of his time there. They met up with old friends and cultivated some new friendships. When Jane did not get any better, they returned to America. She died in 1863 at her sister's home in Massachusetts. Franklin took her to Concord to be buried beside Benny and Frank Robert. He was known to go water the flowers on what he called "the Sacred Spot. He was heartbroken and grief-stricken to be sure. But some part of him must have also been thinking, "Jane is out of her mortal misery now, and she is at last together with her sons. I shall now go anesthetize myself and soon I shall join them."

Franklin himself would live almost six more years.

Approximately four months after Jane's death his dear friend, Nathaniel Hawthorne was growing more frail, himself. Franklin took him on an excursion through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. While they were on this journey, Nathaniel died in the night. What a sad but fitting end for the writer—to be in the care and companionship of his dear old friend and to die peacefully in the night. But what an extra tragedy for Franklin. The one person who had stood by him through thick and thin was now gone. They had supported and helped each other in innumerable ways since their first days together at Bowdoin.

Some of the writing elite, including Ralph Waldo Emerson, were fierce to keep Franklin away from Nathaniel's funeral. And what would Nathaniel have thought of that?

* * * * *

GUY OF WARWICK

"Hello?"

"Franklin Pierce!"

"Aine is that you?"

"Franklin Pierce is the name of the fellow you have been cavorting about with."

"See. I knew it would take you no time to figure it out. Did the Archduchess of Kildare find her some more royal jewels to add to her chest?"

"Did you like the photo of the Austrian crystal necklace I sent you? They were marked down, twice. Not much poundage lost at all."

"A steal. They are gorgeous and so are _you_ , my dear. Now on to Franklin. What do you reckon about Franklin Pierce?"

"Well, he _is_ one handsome bloke. It doesn't really matter if he is ghost, a spirit or in the flesh."

"Oh, it matters to _me_."

"I read a short bio of him and he did have a sad life."

"That is why he is back. He gets a second chance at it."

"Oh, and by the way, I have talked to a few of my reincarnation-spirit world friends, but have not gone into any detail with them, just generalities. They do not know of anyone personally who has had someone come back for an extended period. They have heard of it happening."

"Go on. What else?"

"They _do_ know personally people, or even themselves, who have had constant visitors. They may make their visits to the realm for a few seconds or moments a week."

"Yes, and I have had other visitors, myself, but very sparingly. Oh, here is something I recently came across that shall fascinate you, speaking of reincarnation. Are you familiar with an actor named Harvey Keitel? He was in the movie 'The Taxi Driver.'"

"Harvey Keitel...yes! I do remember him. He has had a lot of juicy character parts."

"Well, after I hang up I am scanning a picture and emailing it to you. It is from Matthew Brady's book of old daguerreotypes. 'Harvey Keitel' is in this book, and the photo is from the mid 1800s. And what's more I found a photo of a civil War Colonel John Singleton Mosby that looks exactly like my childhood neighbor, Mickey Stark."

"Was he a child in the photo?"

"Why no. It is what he looked like as a grown man. Anyway, it will be in your email, later. There are many such things as this. I have found myself looking at old photos recently to see if I can dig up more of these photographic coincidences."

"Fascinating! Is there anything more you can tell me about your Franklin Pierce?"

"No, I can't think of anything right off. It is still unfolding. I have many questions, myself. It is a work in progress."

"Was he a Freemason? Do you know?"

"No, he wasn't. And it perplexes me. Most of the people he and his father respected and admired were Freemasons. There is no record of Hawthorne and Longfellow being Freemasons either, and they were all pretty tight."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Oh, I might sometime, but I will probably wait awhile. Why do you want to know?"

"There is no reason really. Freemasons just have such a mysterious air about them."

"What is new with you? Anything exciting going on over there?"

"No, not really. There is one big thing, though. And it involves both spirits _and_ Freemasons."

"And what would this be?"

"There is an old, old building, here, not far away. It is hanging from a cliff and has fallen into disrepair. Citizens of the area are trying to bring it back to its former splendor. These people that are helping out are called 'Friends of the Cliffe House,' and guess who is a Friend?"

"You?"

"No, I am not, but my friend Rich, is. The house has a strange history and is known for being haunted. Volunteer workers have access."

"Has Rich seen or heard anything?"

"Yes, he has. Email him and he will tell you all about it."

"Since Rich is a Scot, does that mean he believes in the Loch Ness Monster?"

"Does he believe in the Loch Ness Monster? Just wait until I tell him you even asked me that. Take a picture of your Mister Pierce and email it to me. I wanna see."

"I can't. He doesn't want his picture taken at this time and I must respect that."

"I wish I could meet him. All that history."

"You just might get your wish. Be patient."

After Sally got off the phone, she couldn't wait to Google Guy's Cliffe House. This is what she learned:

Guy's Cliffe House is on the River Avon. It is constructed into the sandstone of the overlooking cliff and this increases its other-worldly aura. It is impossible to separate the structure from its foundation with one's eye, on the river side. The site of Guy's Cliffe House has been inhabited since Saxon times. There was a house, a mill, and caves in the cliff.

There is a legend that Guy of Warwick, founder of Warwick Castle, defeater of the Dun Cow, came back from these experiences to live out his days in a cave there on the river. The cave is close to the existing chapel, founded in 1423. The chapel is the only building in use today. It is situated on a stone overhang on the Avon.

The original old house has been rebuilt and added on to many times by its different and often wealthy or noble owners. The beautiful interiors of the house have exquisite Rococo plaster work, ornate pilasters, reliefs of foliage, shells and busts. The chapel itself was leased to local Freemasons in the 1950s and they have maintained it well to this day.

The lead roof on the house fell away and the interiors have been exposed to the elements. A fire used there during the filming of Sherlock Holmes, 'The Last Vampire' in 1992 added more damage.

The public is not allowed on the site except at appointed times, and it is open for the Friends of the Cliffe House who are trying to repair what they can. It has a reputation for spirits floating about. There have been reports of spirits there for centuries.

The first? Guy of Warwick's own wife. You see when Guy returned from the adventures, he failed to inform his wife, Lady Felice of Warwick that he had returned. Not long before he died, he revealed to her that he had been living all that time in the nearby cave, unbeknownst to her. Grief-stricken, she hurled herself from the cliff and her pitiful cries can still be heard today.

Sally decided to check her email to see if Aine's chum, Rich had answered her questions. She was delighted to discover that he had:

Hi Sally. Good to hear from you. I work at Guy's Cliffe House and have had a couple of experiences. One was when we were preparing the Grand Hall for a dinner and decided to take photos as it looked so nice. I took some with my mobile phone, and a lady took some with her digital camera. When we went into the kitchen to look at the photos, we noticed there were orbs in the corner of my phone photos, which moved up in every shot. The lady reported that there were orbs in her photos. We went into the Grand Hall to try to view the orbs in person, but they would only appear in photos.

Another time we turned the lights out to see if anything would happen and we all felt an unknown presence and something touched me on the shoulder. Hard! The women all screamed and we turned the lights back on. Once we decided to turn the lights out in the kitchen and straight away there were orbs and long lights going around the room. This time we were not frightened, but caught up in their beauty.

If there are any more that come to mind or if there are new happenings, I will let you know.

Rich

Hmmmmmmm. "Caught up in their beauty." Sally Weare had much to ponder.

In a return email to Aine's friend Sally made this request: "Hey Rich—be sure to inform me of any future happenings." Within a fortnight she received this reply:

Hi Sally. I am so glad I have freed up more time to volunteer at the Cliffe House. Things have really been heating up over there and there is one incident that I felt I must rush to tell you about.

All of this electrical energy was being given off throughout the place, more orbs in photos, strange noises, heavy breathing coming from walls and so forth. A couple of others and myself heard a thud from a nearby wing and we went to check on it. We found a framed picture crashed to the floor. We examined it and it was a very old oil painting, one of the original Cliffe House. It had a parchment backing glued to the back of the frame and it became dislodged during the crash to the floor. I looked under this dislodged backing and it was the yellowed back of the painted canvas. There was a square section that was not as yellowed. I felt that something had been there.

I searched around on the floor with the flashlight and found a square piece of folded paper. It was so old and fragile that I did not want to disturb it. There is a documents specialist volunteering on the site and I have taken it to him for an examination.

Sally was livid. Why did she care what was on the document—a document found in a haunted relic, far from America and with not one connection to her life or anyone in it? First, Sally was interested in such things. She had always been interested in the paranormal, the old building itself fascinated her, and then there was something inside her had would not be satisfied until she knew what was on the paper.

"Rich! Please get back to me as soon as is reasonably possible concerning the found document and what was on it. If you are able to gain access to it."

Within forty-eight hours Rich sent her a reply. It was a reply that she would secret in her soul for the rest of her natural life and she would not even broach the subject with Franklin Pierce at any time.

Sorry for the delay, Sally. We had to take the document to a special office where there was the proper equipment to handle it with. There my friend unfolded it on a special surface. I first noticed a hand drawn symbol at the top of the paper, in ink. I assumed it to be Masonic.

The message, also in ink, was very faint and faded and some portions were illegible. It appeared to be a secret message from one Mason to another.

Sally could take it no longer. She dug around for any un-used calling cards and found one she felt had enough time on it for a ten minute transatlantic call. She rang up Aine to ask for Rich's phone number.

"Rich? You want his number? Well, I could give it to you but he is sitting right here. Are your ears burning? We have been having a discussion about the strange piece of paper. I suppose you would like me to put him on now, would ya?" Aine could not resist teasing Sally.

"Hi Sally. I was just about to go home and email you. I have come straight from more examining of the document."

"I am so curious, Rich. Don't know why I even care. I am just drawn to the mystery, I suppose. I don't guess there is any way you could make a Xerox of it for me could you?"

"'Fraid not. The light of the machine could damage it further. They plan to take great care with it. It may be of historical importance, if not to the public, to the Freemasons, themselves."

"Dadgummit and drat! Could you just tell me the gist of it then?"

"Would it make you happy if I told you I copied it word for word in longhand?"

"You didn't!"

"I did. Are you ready?"

"Oh please—tell me."

My Dear Brother Michael—

In answer to your questions, it seems that he put out word through secret and clandestine channels using his many Freemason friends as conduits. It was a call to industrious types, creators, inventors for development of harvesting and farming equipment that have not been invented yet. The equipment will be used for tropical crops of economic viability. It is his intention to try to purchase Cuba for the United States. Why would the United States of America even need Cuba, it is such a large country in its own right?

We have asked that question ourselves and this is the somewhat improbable answer: There is a rumor, and it is only a rumor that he plans to put pressures and incentives on the individual states to free their slaves. What slaves wished to go would be given passage to Cuba where they would be (illegible) supplied (illegible) land and farms. The United States government would then buy the products for domestic use or exportation.

The Cuban climate would more closely (illegible) and resemble the (illegible) from which they were so roughly uprooted. His call for inventions of equipment is to make their work easier and also make the harvesting of crops in the South (illegible) efficient in the absence of the slaves.

If you know of any of our brethern that have talents to develop and constuct such inventions I would be most interested in your reply.

Your oldest friend,  
Wesley Crittendon

"Unbelievable." This was all Sally could utter to Rich before she thanked him profusely and ended the call. He had assured her he would type the handwritten text and e-mail it to her shortly.

Day after day and night after night, Sally googled, wrote letters, made transatlantic phone calls trying to learn more about the identity of these two men. It was not smooth going, as the records of the Freemasons, while voluminous, are cloaked in secrecy. She was however able to surmise that Michael had died suddenly before retrieving the secret message, and more importantly, the United States was not able to purchase Cuba, although it was her beloved comrade that had tried to purchase it, and he had tried in vain.

* * * * *

SALLY WEARE

Who is Sally Weare? Sally Weare is either a nobody or a somebody. It would depend on the responder's perspective.

Sally Weare was a lady who would kill for a good piece of Key Lime pie. She once made thirteen of these pies, perfecting the recipe and froze the inferiors. She thawed them one at a time and they were her summer meals. She loved cream gravy. She put it on everything on the plate when it was served: the meat, the potatoes, the green and yellow vegetables and she loved it on sliced, fresh tomatoes. She discovered this by sloppy accident, but continued to love tomatoes this way.

Yes, she was a bit eccentric, as most highly creative people are.

Her years of barely scraping by forced her to do some unusual things that would not seem odd to people who had been raised in the depression, but they did seem very odd to her contemporaries. There were always parts of her home, under construction or under repair due to lack of funds and she worked on them piecemeal. Things were often rigged up.

She mowed her lawn or not depending on whether she could afford a working lawnmower at the time. Still, she survived. She kept people out of her life because of their criticisms of all of these things. Criticism equaled stress and more stress was what she did not need. She concentrated on giving herself what she needed and getting through each twenty-four hours at a time.

•

Sally came from a long line of overachievers. They were also contributors. They believed in contributing to their communities with whatever time or resources they could. In that sense they were humanitarians for the most part. They believed in America. All of the family men had served in the armed forces, some with distinction. They had commenced this service at the Revolution, and a handful had served before that. They were mostly of Scots-Irish descent, but there was some French and English blood mingled in. Some had suspected Native American, but there was no written or oral record of it and there had been genealogies traced to Europe. A child-producing secret tryst, maybe? The boats of her ancestors had landed in Virginia in the late 1600's. A handful had stayed there, but most had traveled to Kentucky after a couple of generations, then farther west after that.

Sally was the youngest member of her immediate family.

Her parents had two children, then their life was interrupted by WWII. When her father came back from the war, they then continued their family after they were comfortably in the cradle of post-war prosperity and security.

She was born in 1949 in her own home in a small town located on a geological feature known as the Ouichita Chain in the midsection of the continental USA. It is an area filled with lakes and rivers.

Sally was fun-loving with a bizarre sense of humor.

She had bouts of depression, starting in high school, but others were not aware of this as she put on an "amused with the state of affairs" attitude. She did not admire her own appearance, always thought she was missing some magical ingredient most attractive females had, but she was confident in creative and scholastic areas. A brunette of medium tall height and medium weight. She was versatile and athletic.

Sally did well in school, but was not as stellar as she could have been. She was drawn to the impractical. She flowed into all things artistic. She could get out there and do an excellent job at most things handed her, but it was in conflict with what she wanted to do, what she was drawn to. So, she tried her best to do what was expected of her—for her own foundation in life and also to satisfy her parents. Her mind was filled with abstract thoughts, conceptual art projects, writing subjects, lines of poetry, lyrics for songs. She had no way to channel any of these things into viable career options. And she knew that. Yet she wanted to develop these things in herself—damnation to the career options.

That was the impracticalness of her. In addition, her mind would not let her do anything else. She was independent in her thought like that, and at the tail end of her family and all the requirements that went with that heavy burden. To go off in a different direction than the rest of them, to "take the road less traveled by," that was the only way she could not compare herself to the others. It was the only way she could unburden herself of the high expectations of people that knew her family.

This was all part of it but it did not matter, because her curiosity about things artistic would not allow her to concentrate on much else. She had the urge to nurture this.

She knew that if she tried to be a professional artist, that the requirements of that lifestyle and the art world she was dealing with would be the death of her. She was wise in that way. She would develop it but sit on it. Her interests were so diverse that she could not settle on any one thing to master and perfect, anyway.

Most of her forbearers had been medical people. Part of her had wanted to become a doctor or researcher. She was very weak in some of her math skills, and the chemistry of medicine required a mathematical mind. She could have found a way to get tutored to get her through. At that time of her life, she did not have the energy or the drive. At many times in her life she thought about going back to school and doing it. Then at some point medicine changed. It changed for the worse. Frivolous lawsuits had made it almost impossible for old-fashioned doctors to work anymore. They had to work in a hospital, under the umbrella of malpractice insurance that only big hospitals could afford.

Stupid people had done this to America. Lawsuit after lawsuit had wiped out the gentle, caring bedside attendance doctors had been known for. It had also increased health insurance premiums to an unaffordable option for a great number of Americans, including Sally, leaving them uninsured and vulnerable and unable to even take the routine tests that would help them discover any serious ailment in a timely fashion.

She had done a seven year long stint as a nursing assistant and realized that she had a flair, a bedside manner-y gift. She could have gone back and gotten the science end of it, but there would not be any point as she could no longer do the type of medicine she would have wanted to do. It was a dead art that stupid money-grubbing lawsuit-happy people had accomplished all by themselves.

So, Sally had gone off to college, studied about different art forms, gotten out of school worked for awhile and then fell in love and got married at the ripe old age of twenty six to Thomas Donally. Their first few years together were very happy and exciting, but the marriage deteriorated when he got involved with a strange bunch of cronies. Sally began to drown herself in the alcohol that flowed freely in their house and all about them. She somehow found the courage to leave the toxic marriage and get treatment for her addiction.

A short time into her recovery, her parents began to get ill and they died, three years apart. Her mind was occupied by their care and well-being during this period.

At about the same time three of Sally's good friends committed suicide over a fifty day span.

Not long after all these deaths, she sold her own property and relocated to the mountains, eighty miles from her birthplace. She had much to sort out in her mind at this time of her life and did not want any interference. She ventured out to find employment to support herself. It was a depressed area but she was able to make do.

After working in a nursing home for several years, she branched out on her own as a private duty home care provider. Her work had mostly been caring for infirmed people whose days were numbered on the planet. When they left it was a loss for her. She had grown attached to them and they were like family.

As she often sat with them and held their hands while they were dying, or sponged their brows, she noticed often recurring themes. The patients seemed to see the images and hear the voices of people that had preceded them in death, sometimes weeks before the actual event. They often spoke that these beloved family members and friends were coming to take them home. One patient had even said, "Don't sit on Uncle Henry," as she had started to sit on the edge of the bed. "You mustn't sit there." She obliged and went to the other side.

During the time that Sally did nursing care, she turned to writing. An older friend who had been published encouraged her and became her mentor. Sally started out with poetry, then went on to short fiction, then longer fiction. She entered competitions and sent her best work to publishers. The results were a surprise. She brought home some prizes for her writing and some of her work even got published.

Her life went by. Something was missing. She did not feel that it was a man that was missing, but she did find a companion to spend some time with. Their relationship lasted over eleven years. He was somewhat older than she, but she enjoyed his sense of humor and they got along well.

Then he began getting ill. After two years of serious illnesses he died. She was not really prepared to go through another grief experience. When she started to awaken from the melancholia she was in her mid-fifties.

She realized that she probably would not have many more years. What would she do with them? She needed to do something really constructive at that time. She did not have any children for a legacy. What kind of a legacy could she leave behind?

Born, lived, marriage terminated, no issues, wrote three books, died. Not much of a contribution. She always sighed a tired sigh when this statement took over the thoughts in her head.

_Can I somehow will myself, make myself, at this late stage in my life, get a second wind?_ This was the thought she was obsessed with. For now.

* * * * *

CONSIDERATIONS AND LIMITATIONS

"You cannot interfere with history in a major way. Yes, we understand how badly you want this, and that it is instrumental in laying the groundwork for what we agree you want to accomplish. You may take Sally back to your time, but you cannot do anything to cause a scandal. If there are others besides yourselves involved, and we know this is the point, for her to meet others you want to share her with and for her to meet them, then she must almost be a voyeur. She may converse with them and interact with them, but not in such a way as to create worry or gossip amongst them to the point that they would do something to alter history. For you see, it would be the history of all that was altered, not just your own personal histories.

This will be treacherous, for as you know, Sally has a mischievous streak, as do you! There may be a point in time where the people of your lifetime on earth could possibly be clued-in that she was from a time future to their own, so that all could interact more freely. Think carefully about this. What if someone had told your mortal being a shocking tale such as this, that someone was from a future time? Think of the impact to your mind. This will be left up to you to handle as you see fit, but do think it over carefully." These arguments between Franklin and his advisers were intense and frequent, in an ethereal realm where not much arguing at all exists. Were these words spoken in English? German? Burmese? It is doubtful that it was spoken in any of these languages. But it was spoken in these approximate words in that ethereal other world we mortals cannot reach, in a spiritual language that has universal meaning. We could not possibly understand it, but have had tastes of it in our lives and it closely aligned with what we call our sixth sense.

Franklin studied over the instructions they had drummed into him. _I must take Sally back. Nath is not long for his earthly world. There is barely enough time for them to even meet. I must be a widower, to be able to be in the company of a woman that is not my wife, Jane. Therefore it must be after Jane's passing. Then Nath will leave his earthly plane barely four months after Jane. There is only a four month window of time, AND it cannot be right before Nath's death nor right after Jane's. Midpoint or slightly beyond would be ideal. What occurred at midpoint that had all of these people in attendance, including MYSELF? It would have to be an event at Bowdoin College. I must check my journal entries._

Franklin decided that he would let Nathaniel in on Sally's true identity after an initial meeting or two.

Sally was so in awe of Nathaniel's writing and Franklin also recognized that she had some real promise as a writer. They would have a lot to talk about between themselves, and of course Franklin, would be fascinated by their discussions as a listener. It was a gift he could give both of them on their mortal plane, and a gift that only he could give them—the mortal plane with all of its turbulent emotions and intelligent curiosity. Nathaniel's brilliant mind would require that Sally give him information about life in the twenty and twenty-first centuries. _Why, Nath would be furious with me if I could give him this opportunity and neglected to do so!_ Hawthorne had focused his writings on puritanical themes of the past, but he was extremely curious about what was to come, especially in the area of invention.

Life, death, it did not matter. They were all part of the same soul family, Sally, Franklin, Hawthorne, Longfellow, and always had been, but it was eternal, and the side trips into mortal flesh and blood that they were all required to take were special times. While there were the worldly woes and pain to deal with, there were the human emotions, feelings and passions that made their earthly time desirable on a certain level. The hereafter was an all-knowing and peaceful existence. There was not the mystery and excitement mortals feel, nor of course human contact. It was instead a comforting, healing and reassuring place. The most cherished allowance would be to enjoy a mortal existence with one's own soulmate. This had never been possible for Franklin and Sally. Their friendship had blossomed into full-blown commitment, devotion and continued on an upward plane, but they kept themselves in check. There can be no doubt of their great attraction for each other, the unbearable tension they forced themselves to endure daily. Temptation was always hovering just below the surface. Franklin had only been given a temporary visitor's pass to complete unfinished work and help Sally in hers. He had had to fight for that visitor's pass. He believed he had fought hard to win his request—then, as was so often the case in the spirit world, what Franklin thought he, himself alone was fighting for, had already been determined.

•

Franklin combed his hair differently as a crude disguise, pomading it and parting it down the middle. He patted dusting powder on some of the pomade to gray his hair up considerably and added a pair of spectacles. As a result, he could not see. He took a train to Boston, where he did not think he would be recognized by any contemporaries, then took a hansom cab to the downtown area.

He walked up and down the main streets looking in shop windows. He returned to a shop where something in the window had caught his eye and stood for a long time, thinking. Looking and thinking. He looked past the window displays behind the glass and raised his spectacles to peer beneath the lenses. Until he did this last thing, he could only see blobs of color. A green silk had caught his eye. The salmon colored velvet would be more suitable, and so lovely with her skin, but the green would be good with her eyes. There was a mustard colored damask. He closed his eyes tightly and used his imagination. _Oh Sally, girl, you are beautiful in each and every one. What a decision I must make! What would you choose yourself?_ Franklin grinned. _The salmon pink it is, then! How will I know the size. . what size?_

He turned the knob and a bell over the door of the shop jingled. A middle-aged woman eyed him suspiciously. She had something similar to a night bonnet on her head, such as house servants wore. She continued to fold garments as she asked nonchalantly, "May I be of assistance to you?" It was most unusual for a man to appear in her shop. Upper crust women with their hand servants, yes, men, no. _Most unusual._

"Uh, yes. I have a predicament. I have just received a wire from a cousin of mine. We are to go to a ball, but her baggage has been lost. She will not have time to shop as she has already been delayed. Perhaps you have heard of the washed out-road at Plain Dealing. I must find something for her to wear without delay. When she arrives at my home a few hours hence, she will barely have time to dress and arrive at the ball on time." The lady frowned. She examined his demeanor. "I believe that one would do nicely." He pointed to the smokey peachy-pink hued velvet.

"Yes, it is a beautiful gown, one of a kind, hand made. Do you think it will fit your, eh, cousin? How tall is she?" Franklin held out his arm to suggest height. "Is she thin? Plump?"

"About in the middle, between thin and plump"—he closed his eyes and imagined Sally, then looked at the dress again as it fell on the form. It would probably do.

"It is not inexpensive, you know!" The lady raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, I am prepared to pay for the best. But since she has lost all her baggage I shall also need what goes with it."

"We do have long gloves that should match with faux pearl buttons all the way up."

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten those, but I was meaning er, the uh, under things."

"Sir! This is most unusual!" The woman became flustered and got out her hanky to fan her face. Then she composed herself and continued. "This beautiful gown will require a corset and a hooped underskirt. The skirt has a hem through which you pass a wire or caning. We can provide those items." She lifted the skirt of the gown to reveal just such an underskirt.

"Very well, I should like all of that including the gloves. Is there some way it could be packaged for travel to prevent wrinkling?"

"Actually the dress you have chosen will be the least inclined to wrinkle. I could wrap it in tissue, then re-wrap it in brown paper. The dress can then be damp-sponged with a cloth to remove any wrinkles and hung up to dry."

Franklin sat himself down in a side chair and watched as the lady folded the gown in half at the waist. She placed the under slip on top, then carefully rolled it all into a cylinder. She laid the gloves out flat on the cylinder, then wrapped the corset around the bundle. "Here is your wire for the slip," she said, showing him a separate wrapped package. He smiled and nodded. The lady then wrapped the whole bundle in crushed tissue, over-wrapping this with thick, brown paper. She tied this all up with twine. She proceeded to write up a bill and handed it to Franklin. He presented her with large bills pulled from his waistcoat. They were well over the amount required. "Keep the rest for your kind assistance," he said. She beamed and nodded graciously.

Franklin took the parcel, exited the shop and walked a block north where he flagged a hansom cab. "I need to take the next train to Portsmouth," he instructed the driver.

•

His journey on horseback from Old Durham to Old Brunswick was one Franklin had made many times. The horse turned off automatically on the little side road, with no coaxing. Two miles on down the road, it appeared—the sometimes summer home of a favorite Bowdoin classmate. Franklin had the use of it, and kept a watchful eye on it for his fellow Athenaen. He made sure any larder was replaced and not spoiled. It was a place Franklin often came to think, or drink himself senseless, out of public or family view. His marriage to Jane was an onerous burden, but he was devoted and committed. He felt it his Christian duty to endure and offer his love and support. Yet he had to escape into his own world to survive and this was where he often did it.

He let himself into the cottage and went to the bedroom to unwrap his brown bundle. He smiled—the underskirt was so pretty and feminine. He hung it in the wardrobe and put the hoop-caning and gloves in a dresser drawer. He then spread the beautiful velvet dress out on the bed. He examined it, It was almost in perfect condition. He took a clean handkerchief from his waistcoat and made his way to the kettle atop the woodstove. It would supply the small amount of water needed to remove a wrinkle or two. He dipped a corner of the handkerchief into the kettle, then he smoothed out two wrinkles on the skirt of the gown and three on a sleeve, barely noticeable. He admired his handiwork, then hung the gown in the wardrobe, carefully draping the skirt sideways at the bottom. There was one item left to attend to: the corset. He examined it curiously. He had never really looked at such a contraption. He laughed. Women! He rolled it up and placed it in a drawer.

There was a hidden compartment in a little desk there.

He checked to see if the jewelry was safe. It was. It was not fine, but it was lovely. Sally did not need fine jewels—but he had a gut feeling that most women, Sally included, would want to wear some type of adornment for an evening event. He had decided to be prepared.

•

The occasional guest at the house on the Battle Road in Concord picked up his hat to go. "Yes, Nath, I am hopeful he can reign himself in, not overindulge in spirits. He is so depressed over Jane's passing and his helplessness over the whole illness. It is compounding the grief he had for the boys, all saved up inside. We must be on him about it and hope for the best—yet I feel it to be a fortunate event. Not only will it be an elegant festivity, but it may raise his outlook a bit and start him out of his mourning.

"The Shadow" was pure of heart, but her demeanor did wear him down so. It is a blessing that his cousin, Sally will be passing through at this time and can accompany him. Have you ever met her? I have heard that she is a widow of two years, herself, and is bravely trying to venture out into the public arena again."

"No, I have not yet met her, and Henry I am certain that you, more than anyone knows how grieving for the loss of a spouse can make you literally ill. You have been very brave, sir. Surely we can persuade him to behave for his cousin, Sally's sake. And while we are at it, we should admonish ourselves to do likewise! We are leaving early from our inn and making the side trip by carriage to pick them up at the cottage and we shall all go together. I believe Franklin is taking them back by a buckboard so he can deliver the musicians to the Inn. You know he is not happy unless he is orchestrating some complicated plans."

"Pardon me, Nath, but I cannot help but notice that in that instance he will be 'orchestrating the orchestra.'"

"Oh, Henry, why did I even open the door to you when you called? You and your dreadful puns. Naturally they are quite poetic, I will give you that! At any rate, the ride to the ball will give Sophie and myself a chance to become better acquainted with Sally."

"Let us pray for mild, dry weather. Since I will probably arrive earlier than you, I will try to secure table seating for all of us to the side to the dance floor. As close as possible to the terpsichorean activity!"

"Would you perhaps consider bringing some feminine companionship yourself, then?"

"Why no, I am not considering such things at this time in my life. Besides, as you know, Hiawatha has been pretty much consuming me."

"Ah, now Henry, at least think about it! Maybe you shall find Franklin's cousin not too sore on the eyes!"

"That is what I was afraid you would say. I will bid you adieu on that note, my friend!"

* * * * *

PREPARATION OF THE HUMAN CANVAS

Sally was editing her latest manuscript, hunched over her keyboard and squinting her eyes at the screen. She felt a presence. There was Franklin, standing behind her. He was extremely curious, but said nothing. Sally studied his face for a moment, amused.

"Franklin, what is it?" Franklin turned his attention to the matter that was most on his mind. She beheld and intriguing smile on his face.

"Oh girl, I have done the impossible! I have so much to tell you. Franklin chuckled to himself as he remembered his agony in the dress shop, the awkward meeting with his spiritual advisors. "Follow me into your room for a moment." Sally put her work on standby and proceeded as instructed. "Sit!" Franklin was pointing to the stool in front of her dressing table. "Here it is..." He had gotten down her book of Matthew Brady daguerreotypes. "I am in this book, by the way, about page 110, image 52."

"Yes, I know. How well I know!"

"Can you arrange your hair in this manner? Or this? Or this?" He pointed to some of the women's images. She gawked at the severe, contrived hairdos.

"Well, I suppose. It will take some time." Franklin sat on the edge of the bed in rapt attention. _He wants me to do it now and isn't going to budge until I do it!_ Sally began pulling her hair into a ponytail. She braided and secured the ponytail braid with another band. She had left out two chunky clumps in front of the ears. While she waited for her electric curlers to heat up, she secured the ponytail braid into a bun on the back of her head with tortoise shell hairpins. "I have a bun-cover that is crocheted that I can use if I have to." She applied some gel to the hair on either side of the center part to slick it down a bit. She then glanced over to see Franklin eyeing her with fascination. She then saturated the hair in front of her ears with hairspray and wound each clump into three curls using the smallest rollers provided. She re-sprayed the curled hair and waited for the curlers to do their work.

"You can be the timer. Let me know when ten minutes is up."

Franklin grasped his gold watch in his hand and played his part to the hilt. They each turned their heads to look at each other often, humming little tunes and giggling.

"It is time! I believe it is, and I am the timer!"

Sally carefully unwound the curls. "I would need to trim this hair a bit for the curls to stay in very long. The heavy weight of the hair would straighten the curls in no time."

Franklin got up to inspect the results. "Yes! Yes indeed-y!"

"Why am I doing this?"

"We are going to a ball, a ball at Bowdoin College for distinguished alumni."

"And are you one of those?" Sally teased, as of course she knew that he was.

"Well, in a way, I suppose, but I want you to meet some dear friends of mine. It will be tricky. I have the blessing of those beyond to take you back. At the time-frame the ball is happening, I am still in mourning for my wife, Jane, who has barely been departed for two months. This gets very complicated. When you and I go back, I will be the soul who is with you now, inhabiting my mortal flesh. I will not be the me who is mourning Jane, but no one will know that. I will be an actor in my own life."

"That is so peculiar, so bizarre, but I assume it is necessary."

"For me to be seen with any other woman, so soon into grief would not do at all, unless you are a... family member. Yes, you shall accompany me as my 'cousin,' Sally, who is also recently widowed herself and visiting in the area."

Sally's facial features twisted and contorted as she digested the information Franklin had dumped on her. Then he was pleased to see the start of a smile on her face.

"Oh Franklin, a ball? An actual dress ball of the 1800's? Yes, you have accomplished the impossible. Whatever shall I wear?"

"Sally, you are not to worry your pretty, pretty and electrically curled head about it! I have it all arranged. It is a surprise. You shall be a vision for eyes to behold."

•

Sally could not sleep that night. She would have a week to think about going to the ball with Franklin. She had a week to perfect the hairdo. What about make-up? She couldn't wear any. She must groom her eyebrows to perfection. _Maybe I should dye them to make them look thicker. Maybe I could put my mascara wand in water and put a very thin coat of mascara on my eyelashes—undetectable._

But there could be no lipstick, no foundation. She could use a little tinted lip gloss and maybe some red food color to the cheeks, a little loose powder. It would be a challenge. In two day's time she would get out her tweezers and pluck everything off her face that did not belong there.

Even tiny things that her foundation usually covered up.

I might try an instant tanning lotion, maybe thin it down with other lotion to prevent streaking. I sort of know what cosmetics women used in the 1800's but maybe I should actually do a little research. And quickly.

* * * * *

INSTANTLY-WHERE YOU WANT TO BE

"The cats. Sally, have you put out enough food and water for them for a day or two? It is time to go."

"Oh Franklin, I am ready! I have been for days! The most exciting night of my life—except for one, of course."

"Ah, we shall try to top it. It could, happen, you know."

"I am starting to see that many impossible things for me are now possible. It is because you have traipsed into my life."

It was early afternoon. Franklin preferred to traverse the centuries under cover of darkness. He would not take Sally through walls, which was usually his own method. He had walked the floors searching for an interior portal that was receptive, to no avail. "We must go outside for this, my love." Sally ran to slip on her cowboy boots.

She was sure there were snakes in her overgrown back yard. She locked the front door and said an affectionate good-bye to her cats. Franklin then led her out the back door to a corner of her yard that was well-obscured by a fence and trees. "Are you ready? Remember, it will be a shock."

Franklin wrapped his cloak around Sally. She looked up at him. "Take me there..." In the middle of her last word, she felt a jolt like an earthquake. They were surrounded by white light and vibrating noise. Then it faded instantly and they were in the middle of a forest.

"Where are we Franklin?" Sally asked when she was sure she was all right. Franklin began stomping about, mumbling expletives under his breath.

"Hmmmmmm. There is something a bit off here. We are supposed to be right outside the cottage but are not. Let me look about and get my bearings." He released Sally and left her standing beneath and oak tree where they had landed. He paced off several feet to the west by the sinking sun. Then he made a large circle around Sally keeping his eyes peeled for familiar sights. There was a short rise with and immediate drop-off. He returned to Sally. "I believe if we go over the rise and down the other side we will come to a creek. If we follow the creek, we will get to the cottage. Just how far, I don't know yet."

"It's okay, Franklin, we are in pretty good shape for old fuddy-duddies. We are up to it!" When they came to the creek, Franklin knelt beside it.

"It would be most unlikely to come across anyone out here. It is a very remote part of the country, but if we see anyone, you must hide. We will find you a hiding place until they pass." Franklin stood up. "This way," he said with a tone of confidence.

Sally was wearing flared jeans, cowboy boots she wore for yard work, and a turtleneck sweater. She had tiny curlers in her hair for the purpose of curling the hair in front of her ears into tight ringlets. The bun she had made of the braid was staying up nicely through its journey of a hundred and fifty years.

"We must go a mile or so. Here is a part of a fish carcass that I discarded yesterday." He pointed to a stone by the creek's edge. "Shhhhh. He held out an arm to stop Sally. the tree leaves on the forest bed were crackling and crunching in the distance. He motioned Sally to go inside a clump of evergreen bushes. As they hunkered down silently, they watched as twenty deer passed before them and stopped to drink from the creek. When the deer were gone, Franklin and Sally followed the creek. "There! There is the cottage." Franklin pointed to a small building sticking out from behind some trees. They picked up their pace and soon were on the cottage steps. Sally checked her pocket. She had picked some dark plum berries from the evergreens. It was a nervous distraction while waiting in the bushes.

Franklin looked at the position of the sun in the western sky. He didn't feel like he could depend on his pocket watch to display the correct time. Crossing the century sometimes messed it up. It was late afternoon. They had even lost an hour traveling from Sally's home in the Midwest to New England. They had no time to waste in preparing themselves for the ball.

When they had closed the door to the cabin, Franklin exclaimed, "Tonight I am going to feel like such a king! All of the people I love in the deepest parts of my soul will be around me. We will enjoy congenial conversations, and my dear friends will see you for the first time and get to know you. They will think that you are my cousin, but if they are paying close attention, they may guess that you are not. I shall tell Nath the truth shortly, but whether he can believe the possibilities I do not know. He may think that I have gone daft, that my friend alcohol has poisoned my brain beyond recovery. It is sad that they all cannot know, but there is also a splendid excitement to the intrigue, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Franklin, I do..."

•

"Come along now, we must get ready. Nath and Sophia will be to pick us up in their carriage, shortly before dusk. Besides, I have something in the other room, something wonderful to show you. When they entered the small bedroom Franklin pointed to the wardrobe. "Go ahead. Look inside." Sally opened the door. She saw a man's suit and waistcoat, then something quite colorful caught her eye.

She pulled out the gown and held it next to her.

"Oh, Franklin, it's a dream! Or something like it, an altered state, or my imagination or something," she caught herself mumbling.

There is something else that goes with it." He went to a dresser and opened the drawer. "And this, and this!" He pulled out the gloves and the caning for the underskirt. "I shall thread this through the underskirt, then I will go into the kitchen and shave. I must start a small fire to heat some water in case we need it. I will need it for shaving, anyway."

"Franklin!" Franklin was startled to hear a few moments later. He almost nicked himself. He put down his straight razor.

"What is it, girl?"

"The gown will not fit! I am too fat for the dress."

Franklin laughed.

"Hold on, Lizzie, I forgot." He pulled the corset he had purchased for just this occasion from the drawer. A look of horror came over Sally's face when she viewed the contraption.

"It's not that bad. Oh Sally, it's a shame to interfere. You are lovely, just as you are."

Sally was determined to look as perfect as she could for this one night. _It is a tall order to try for beauty with no make up allowed and being middle aged but here goes!_ Franklin returned to her side just in time to offer assistance.

"Here, I will help you." He removed some of the laces then desperately tried to get them through the eyelets again. He began to sweat. "Drat! My fingers are too big for this work! There. Now I must tighten all. Are you ready?"

Sally sucked in her stomach as Franklin tightened the laces and tied them. She then smoothed the top of her dress as Franklin began buttoning all of the buttons starting at the bottom. Sally looked in the mirror. "Wait! Wait! I want my waist to be smaller!" She had started taking off the top of the dress again. "A girl doesn't get to go to a ball every day, you know!"

"Very well. Franklin's face took on a blush of color. Turn around and hold on to the back of that chair there." He began loosening all of the laces. When he was a little over three quarters of the way down, he began tightening them severely. "Oh Sally, I can't bear to do this. Does it hurt?" Franklin put his foot in the middle of Sally's back gently and pulled tight."

"Keep going. I will be okay." Sally was determined, so Franklin continued to tighten. She slipped the top of the gown back on again. Franklin could not help but stare. She truly was a vision—like nothing he had ever seen before.

"Those berries I got off the evergreen bushes in the woods," she whispered "are they poison?"

"Well, I wouldn't pop them into your mouth and eat them, they would make you sick, but I don't believe they are a real poison. Why?"

"You will see!"

"You are enticing me with the mystery of you, woman."

"What shall I wear for shoes? Are there some laying about somewhere?

"Oh no, I forgot! You will have to wear those boots, I suppose." Franklin laughed. "And not let anything but your toes show! What an addlepated pair we are." He was returning to the kitchen to wash his face with warm water.

Sally squashed some of the evergreen berries with the back of a spoon and patted the juice to her cheeks, feathering the edges. She then put on a light dusting of powder she found in a tin on the dresser. She then pressed berry juice to her lips. She was almost satisfied with her look. "You don't happen to have any 'bar grease' on you, do you? Is there any salve in the cottage?" She called out to him.

"I have a small tin in my pocket. Franklin pulled a tin, barely larger than a quarter with wintergreen salve from the pocket of his waistcoat. He handed it to Sally and began to button the buttons on his shirt. _There are at least forty buttons_ , Sally was thinking almost out loud.

Sally put a little salve on the spoon and mixed the colored berry juice with it to make homemade lip gloss. _I mustn't get any on my dress._

"Let me look at you, girl."

Sally turned from the mirror and stood up as Franklin took her in. "I can't believe my eyes."

"Don't touch these, she said, pointing to her lips. They are poison!"

"Is that where the evergreen berries ended up?" Franklin chuckled.

"Sally only smiled, then said, "Don't let me forget to remove these curlers at the last minute, okay?" Franklin smiled back with his best evil smile and said no words.

Sally sat on the edge of the bed to watch Franklin put on his collar, tie and cravat. As she did so, the hoop skirt came up a bit. "Oh dear. I must spend the night standing, as I do not have the hang of sitting in this skirt. Heaven forbid if my boots should show!"

"Sally, you should not have to stand all night. There is some trick to it. Practice sitting while I finish here. I think women squash their skirts into an oval when they sit. Try that." Sally continued to practice while muttering mild oaths to herself. Franklin often caught her peeking at him as he made himself ready and felt so very grateful and fortunate. Here clearly was a woman that appreciated him—and he appreciated her back in the same way—how perfect could it be? _I cannot wait to see her reaction to the surprise I have in store._

Sally took a respite from her practicing. The Hawthornes would be there soon to pick them up. She got up and retrieved Franklin's waistcoat to help him into it. She was delirious. _I am going to a ball in the 1800s! I am going to meet two of our most illustrious American writers in person! I feel such a closeness to Franklin, exquisite chemistry._

"Let me do your cufflinks." Sally urged. Franklin held out his arm with gratitude as she performed this simple task.

"That reminds me. One more thing, Sally." Franklin carried over the costume jewelry from the desk. They were glass—glass cut to look like diamonds and precious jewels.

* * * * *

THE BALL

"Sally, dear, I am sorry about your baggage problem. It is chilly out, so you will need a wrap, and a bonnet. I am sure those things were lost with your baggage. is there something else you could wear." Franklin had a look of mild panic on his face. _How could I not have considered the chill of the ride to the ball._ Franklin's eyes met Sally's and they were wondering the same thing. What would she wear for a wrap?

Franklin had made the introductions, Sally to Sophie and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Nath was driving the carriage.

Sally started to speak. "Sophie, I am at a loss. Franklin, is there anything in the cottage I could borrow?"
"Well, you could wear my other suit coat, and let us look around—surely there is a bonnet here." Sally went through the dresser drawers until she spied something. Franklin had found another one in a closet.

"Which one shall it be? Sally held up two sorrowful bonnets and they all voted. "This one it is, then." Sally peered into the mirror while she adjusted the bonnet on her head. She tied the ribbon tie beneath her chin, a little to one side. She had kept bobby pins in the side curls which she planned to remove the instant before she entered the ballroom. "I will take along these two small blankets—it won't hurt—in case we should need them."

"Good idea. You never know. It could come an unexpected blizzard and we could get stranded." Sophie agreed. The ride took forty-five minutes. They drove the carriage to the front entrance of the college. It had been difficult for Sally to maneuver her hoop skirt in the carriage, but somehow she had managed to do so. She caught herself spying on how Sophie was able to manage the same problem. The two men helped the two women down from the carriage. Sally removed her bonnet and borrowed coat. She folded them and put them onto the seat and tried to remove the bobby pins without notice, while Franklin made conversation with his friends.

"Oh!" Franklin was distracted by something. "I must take our things and put them in the buckboard, Sally—we are taking a buckboard back to the cottage. I had forgotten." He removed the blankets and bonnet from the seat of the carriage.

"That's all right Mr. Pierce. I can put your things in the buckboard for you." The stable hand getting ready to drive Nath's carriage to the livery offered to deliver the items. He was going there anyway.

"Thank you. You know which buckboard it is?"

"Why yes, I do, sir. I was here when you brought it over yesterday, remember?"

"Of course, that's right." Sally looked at Franklin with amusement. _That's what happens when you are over fifty, or over a hundred and fifty, as the case may be!_ Sally was tickled at his forgetfulness, but still did not understand why he had brought the buckboard, they could have ridden the horse if they removed the hoop from her skirt.

"Sally, I have volunteered our services in advance as a clean-up committee of two—tonight after the ball. Sophie and Nath are staying at the inn and they will just drive there in the carriage. Nath has to get back early tomorrow for an appointment. We will help clean up, so everyone else can leave as scheduled, then we will give a ride to some of the orchestra members in our buckboard. They are staying after the ball to eat a meal the college has provided for them. It also occurred to me that it might help us out of our mourning somewhat to do some charitable acts.

"Why yes, Franklin. That is a wonderful idea," Sally agreed.

Franklin Pierce was a most striking, handsome and magnetic man. Heads always turned when he entered a room, but when he entered the huge hall where the ball was being held, with Sally Weare on his arm, why a room full of heads almost snapped off a room full of necks. His companion, Sally _was_ beautiful—her chestnut colored hair in a loose bun, the tiny sausage ringlets at the side of her face, her jet black eyebrows and lashes over sparkling green eyes. She promised herself she would not squint, that she would hold her eyes wide open. She was very nearsighted and could not see well without her librarian eyeglasses, but she had discarded them for the evening— _too twenty-first century!_ Her skin was flawless and she had perfectly straight white teeth. The salmon pink gown was a standout in a sea of elegant mediocrity. The guests at the ball knew Franklin was bringing his cousin. Everyone knew—yet they could not help but stare in awe at the surreal portrait the handsome couple made. Franklin cast his eyes about.

"There!" He gestured to Nathaniel. "Henry is motioning us over."

_Was that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow?_ Sally wondered, but she was quite sure it was. She had arrived here with Nathaniel Hawthorne, after all. The two couples made their way to a group of chairs to the side of the ballroom where Henry had saved them places.

Henry began, "Sally, you are so lovely! It seems you could not have traveled so far, and still look so well. Where is it now that you are living?" Sally held out her hand which Longfellow promptly kissed.

"By the shores of Gitchee Gumee, by the shining Big-Sea-Water..." Sally was dumbfounded. How could she have been such an idiot? There was an awkward pause.

"How could you have known that... oh, I see, Nathaniel has probably been mentioning my current work, the poem about Hiawatha."

"I have read all of your published work, also Mr. Hawthorne's. They are such masterpieces. Naturally I would be interested in what either of you are currently working on." Nathaniel stared in disbelief and Franklin was making himself busy to keep from laughing out loud.

Henry continued, "I had no idea our work was that accessible to the public."

"Not only are they accessible, they are required reading in English 101!" _Oops!_ Sally put her gloved hand up to her mouth. _How can I keep these ridiculous utterances from escaping?_ She turned quickly to Franklin and winked. He had to turn away to hide his laughter. Hawthorne and Longfellow glanced at each other in bewilderment.

"Well, I must say that I am baffled that you would..."

"Henry, did I mention that my very well-read cousin here also has an amazing sense of the ridiculous? Please have patience with the both of us. We are doubly a threat to decorum! You should have seen us together as children at family gatherings. Now Sally, behave yourself!"

"I find this all quite intriguing." Sophie offered.

"Frank, Nath and I are hoping you will have some fun tonight and we just might join you in it, if it would be all right." Henry finally spoke.

"I don't think any of us is ready to be put out to pasture, yet." Nathaniel added "Whatever you and Sally decide to do, we will endorse, only please Franklin, don't spike the punch!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Franklin replied—proud of himself for tactfully deflecting Sally's slips.

* * * * *

THE BALL PART TWO

The coterie of friends sampling treats and sipping punch noticed their good friend Charles Crawford approaching their group, with two of the college regents. Franklin motioned them forward with his hand.

"I do not believe I have had the pleasure." Charles smiled down and Sally as Franklin stood up.

"This is my cousin, Sally Weare, Charles, visiting from Europe where she has resided for a few years. Sally looked up at the handsome man. He was not extremely outstanding in handsomeness, but he had nicely chiseled features and a bearing of intelligence and breeding. Sally, this is Charles Crawford, regent of Bowdoin College."

"So very pleased to meet you, Charles," Sally held out her hand.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

"I would be delighted, sir, but I feel my feet have forgotten how to 'trip the light fantastic.'" Sally apologized.

"Trip the light fantastic? Well, I'll say. Just hang on dear girl, and glide!" He was revealing his devilish nature. Sally looked at Franklin. She could tell he was very amused. Sally was flustered, but determined to participate. She would show Franklin what she was truly made of. She rose from her chair. The tune was lovely. _Was it something by Strauss? Maybe Chopin? Was Chopin's work even known at this time?_

Charles placed his left hand on Sally's waist and took her left hand in his right. _This is awkward, but I must remember to let him lead!_ She glanced at Franklin. _Ah, he is starting to show some irritation._ Sally's initial awkwardness on the dance floor gave way to grace and confidence. She allowed Charles Crawford to guide the conversation and just answered his questions. As she warmed up to easy conversation with him, she noticed that another man was about to cut in. Charles bowed out good naturedly as Robert Townshend whisked Sally away without missing a beat.

"My dear lady. I could not resist. Franklin Pierce has a beautiful cousin. I hope you enjoy your visit here.

Perhaps you will stay in the area."

"Mr. Townshend, I do not know when I have had a more enjoyable time. I shall only be in the area for a short while."

"Pity!"

"I plan to return in a month for a more extended visit and actually I am thinking of moving to the area."

"Do you have children?"

"No I have not been blessed with children. My husband's death forced me to face the fact that I need to be closer to other family members. Franklin's sisters would be a great comfort for me to have companionship with. We would be ready help for one another, should we need and extra pair of hands or two. And Franklin would be close by to offer advice, should I need it." Sally stole a glance toward Franklin. He was deep in conversation with his group of friends, but ever so often he would look up at Sally and her dance partner. His look was troubled. _Mortal flesh does have it's disadvantages I suppose. Could it possibly be that jealousy has reared its ugly head?_ Still, there was a faint smile to his lips as he fidgeted with napkins and silverware.

"Franklin, your cousin has a most wonderful sense of words. 'Trip the light fantastic,' I must say, that struck me dumb." Henry Longfellow offered an observation.

"Sally was educated in England and pursues writing for a pastime. It helped her through her husband's lengthy illness. She has written at least a hundred poems, many short fiction works, and now she is working on a novel."

"She is a remarkable woman. I am surprised you have not brought her round, before." Nat added.

"Yes, it seems odd that I have not thrown her into this cauldron before, but as you know she has been in mourning for two years and traveled much with her husband before that. And then, well then there was Jane. Jane did not care to socialize and Sally was too kind to interfere in that way." Franklin continued to gaze at Sally. _Drat, they will not leave her alone!_

"Franklin, you should take Sally around the floor a couple of times yourself. It would do you good." Sophie urged Franklin.

"Yes, Frank. You have not forgotten how to dance, now have you ol' boy? I imagine she has run out of conversation to make with our illustrious college officials. She would undoubtedly be grateful if you would save her from any more of it." Nath added. Franklin gazed about at the faces of his dear friends in the group. They were all pleading with him to move onto the dance floor. He looked back up at Sally, gliding about, a vision in salmon colored velvet, the necklace he had placed about her neck sparkling and dancing with every turn.

_All right, I shall do it! I shall cut in! Won't they all be shocked?_ With these affirmations sounding in his head, he rose from his chair and waited for the couple to sweep by again. "Pardon me, James, I would like to dance with my cousin, before the poor old girl gets too tired to dance anymore." He tapped James, another of the college officials on the shoulder. When James had bowed out and Sally and Franklin were far enough away from the earshot of others, Sally looked up at Franklin.

"We must sit down, Franklin. The poor old girl is too tired to dance anymore!"

"You are _not_ that tired. All right, Sally, you are my cousin. I must hold you far away, like this, the width of a small stride. This is most difficult, but I cannot let myself cause a scandal!"

"Okay, Franklin, let's go back and sit with our friends. I shall sit by the ladies and try to converse. I will have to be an adroit actor, because I do not know the topics of the day!"

•

"What a lovely couple you made on the dance floor!" Sophie commented when they returned.

"Yes, the most handsome couple about. And to think you are over fifty—as are we—but still there was not a younger couple here who even came close!" Nath emphasized.

"Oh you are so kind. Sophie, you and Nath give it a whirl, yourselves!" Sally begged.

"Yes, do! Nath, take your lady 'round." Franklin prodded his somewhat shy friends to get up and move about.

"But beware! The regents will all cut in."

Nath assisted Sophie from her chair and reluctantly made his way with her to the dance floor. Henry Longfellow got up at that time to go speak to another common friend.

"Now, Franklin, if we don't get interrupted , we can talk privately if we need to." Sally whispered.

"Sally, when everyone leaves we will gather all of the cups, silver, napkins onto a teacart and place them in the galley. They will wash them early in the morning, but we will gather them up and also arrange the chairs in an orderly fashion. We shall take the buckboard back to the cottage tonight, but first I shall deliver the members of the string quartet to the inn. They will eat a complimentary meal in the galley before we take them home."

Franklin seemed to be somewhere else to Sally, he was more concerned with the cleaning and string quartet's ride than he was with the festivities at hand. Sally interrupted his strange mood. "Franklin, this has been so wonderful for me. For me to get to come here with you, to go to an actual ball, to get to visit the college you attended with your friends Henry and Nathaniel, and to actually meet them and talk to them. I have spent the evening imagining you three as young men, going to school here, getting into mischief as young often do."

"Ah, yes, that we did. Remind me to tell you some of our exploits when we are lazing away an afternoon. I knew it would be special for you to meet them. You have such talent as a writer, such a curiosity for history, and such an empathy for the hardships of people existing before you. How could I _not_ bring you here? I almost had to enlist divine intervention for the privilege."

"Franklin..." Sally started to reach for Franklin's hand but caught herself. Instead, she drew herself back and scooted her chair back a bit. She had been inching closer and closer to Franklin's face without realizing it. She looked about to see if anyone had been watching. _No one has noticed._ Then she thought to check the dance floor. _Nath! Nath had been watching the whole time._ He smiled at Sally. _Did he NOD? Was that a NOD? Nathaniel Hawthorne, great author of moral themes waging war against sin gave me the nod! He gave me the nod to create a scandal, right here at Bowdoin College on this very night._ As the music for that one dance was ending, Sally watched as Franklin got up from his chair to go talk to the members of the string quartet. And there he stayed for some time.

Sally applauded lightly with gloved hands as the couple sat down near her again. "Franklin will be back shortly, I believe. He is talking to the musicians about something. I think it must be about the ride back to the inn. I have gotten you a fresh punch. It seems the dancing makes a person very thirsty."

"Yes it does. How thoughtful of you, Sally. And what is so wonderful is that Franklin has not had a sip of the hard stuff all night. It is just about a miracle." Nath commented just as Henry was returning to the group.

"Quite a miracle!" Henry then added.

"Thank you Sally," Sophie started then continued, "You are so thoughtful. Why oh why do you have to be Franklin's _cousin_?" Sophie giggled nervously at the words that she said. The two men looked at Sophie. She looked back. Then they looked at each other. Henry and Nat nodded and began to laugh.

Sally sat in her chair and blushed. _Blushing! I guess that is what you are supposed to do in the 1800's in a situation such as this. Blush!_

•

When the guests at the ball were all danced out, Franklin waved goodbye to his friends as they left for the inn. The musicians still had not packed their things, nor were they starting to. Instead they were in the galley, having a feast. Their silverware was clinking into their plates, from the sounds of it and they were laughing and snorting. Sally and Franklin made their way around the perimeter of the ballroom as they collected dirty dishes and cups. "Here is a bucket, Sally, to pour punch into if it is left in cups. I will set it atop the cart."

"Okay, Franklin. I don't think it will take long to do this. Why don't you straighten up the chairs, while I finish this?"

"And then he said 'hardee har har!' Then Mrs. Crutchfield said, 'Thar she blows!' and the wash tub exploded all over the parade marchers, and they scattered far and wide..." Loud voices rang from the galley.

"Hardee har har!" A deeper voice chimed in. Then so much laughter came from the galley that Sally became alarmed.

Franklin saw the worry in her eyes. "Oh Sally, it is the hard cider! They brought hard cider to drink. They are musicians. That is what musicians do! They play perfectly with great precision, then when they can rest, they get into the hard cider! It is okay. We will soon take them to the inn where they can sleep it off and be good as new tomorrow for their next performance elsewhere."

"Oh." Franklin noticed a look of worry still on her face and waited for her to continue. "Franklin, if a girl had to... you know... where would she go?"

Franklin smiled. "Is that all? They are putting water into the college, but it is not completed. People are still using the privy."

"Would you go with me? Show me where? Stand outside the door?"

Franklin laughed. "Why didn't you say something? Are you uncomfortable?"

"No. I just think I should go now. How will I manage my skirt through the privy door?" _And trailing the hem through the probable filth of the enclosure!_

"Don't worry. The privy is outside. I don't imagine many women can manage the hoop skirts through the doors, so they find another place to go, and that is what we'll do. We will find a place for you to go.

As they walked back from the thicket of trees where Sally had been forced to relieve herself in the bright moonlight, they heard the sound of beautiful music coming again from the ballroom. "Ah, good, they have not forgotten. Even with all of the hard cider, they have not forgotten." Franklin startled Sally with his words.

"Forgotten what? Franklin, what?"

Franklin found Sally's hand to guide her the few steps remaining. As they entered the ballroom area, Franklin turned to face Sally. "May I have this dance ma'am?"

Sally caught a whiff of the heady scent of Bay Rum on his face and collar. She looked up into Franklin's eyes. He did not wait for an answer. He took her into his arms and waltzed her slowly around the floor. The second time around he held her more closely. The third time around he held her so close that a strand of cobweb would not fit between them. The hoop skirt tilted up in the back, but they were not paying much attention.

At the end of the last song, the musicians stopped playing and clapped loudly. "All right, you musical men, let's go! I'll go get the buckboard, gents.

Sally entertained herself by watching the antics of the inebriated musicians who were trying to pack up their instruments and music. They traded insults, and laughed loudly. Franklin returned to help them load their instruments and was soon helping Sally into the suit jacket she had worn as a wrap. As he lifted Sally onto the seat of the buckboard, the musicians made a terrible racket trying to climb into the back. One of them fell back out and had to be helped back in by his clumsy cronies.

"Hardee har har!" One of them cried out.

"Thar she blows!" Cried another as the buckboard lurched forward.

"Steady... " Franklin spoke gently to the team of horses as he climbed up and took the reins. "Steady, my boys."

* * * * *

THE FRICASSEE

As Sally kept wrestling with her hoop skirt while perched on the seat of the buckboard, Franklin began whistling some of the tunes they had danced to. Sally pulled his suit coat she was wearing for a wrap more closely around her. She was so peaceful and content. Franklin let go of the reins with his right arm and pulled Sally over closer to him on the seat. She elbowed him lightly in the ribs and said, "Do you think we need a bundling board?" Franklin's whistling ceased as he let out a laugh.

"No, I think not! Definitely not! I don't have to tell you, do I now, Sally?"

"Tell me what?"

"I guess we shall have to rest awhile at the cabin."

"Franklin?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Thank you, Franklin. I had the most wonderful time, and I am so honored to meet such enlightened people as Nath Hawthorne and Henry Longfellow."

"Sally, I could not pass up the opportunity. I had to make this happen. It was very difficult, but I knew it would be special for you, as a writer. I felt you would appreciate their company."

"Oh, and I did." _Best date I've ever had!_

"You are quite the novelist and poet in your own right. It is harder to make a mark in the time you are existing in. To find your voice is no problem to you, but getting your voice heard is almost impossible. You are so appreciative of your forbearers that I knew you would want to do this."

When Franklin and Sally entered the little cottage, Franklin took Sally's hands in his and then placed her hands around his waist. "You see, I like to surround myself with novelists and poets." Sally smiled. She loved a good pun.

Franklin busied himself starting a fire in the fireplace. It caught quickly and was soon blazing as a result of the dead twigs he had stored in earlier. As he stoked the fire with an iron poker, he sneaked glances over at Sally who was peeling off her gloves in the light of the flames. She came a little closer to the fire, but was wary of her skirt bottom getting too close. Franklin came toward her. "Let me help you." He unfastened the buttons on the back of her dress and then unloosened the lace of her corset.

"Ahhhh. What an improvement that is!" She sighed.

Sally went to sit on the edge of the bed. She would try to remove the caning from the hem of her petticoat. When she had accomplished this, she rolled it up and put it in the wardrobe. Her slip now fell straight and made a suitable nightgown when coupled with the light camisole she had worn. With difficulty she pulled off her boots and began rubbing her toes with her fingers. She fell back onto the bed and rolled herself in the comforter. She was asleep in an instant. Franklin started to speak, but when he saw Sally's eyes were closed he smiled. He secured a screen over the fireplace and stepped a few paces to gaze at Sally. Her beauty was timeless and ageless. "There can be no doubt. You _are_ my love," he said out loud. He knew she was so tired she would not waken at the normal sound of his voice. He continued to gaze at her for another moment, and in the refuge of his own mind he wrapped his arms around her taking in the essence of her skin and her hair. _Someday..._

Sally awakened to find Franklin gone. She heard the sound of boots on the porch and realized that Franklin was outside intent over some activity. She needed to relieve herself of the punch and tea of the night before. Glancing about she spied a spittoon. _That will do!_ Soon she was pulling on her boots again and saw Franklin peering in the window, a huge grin on his face. He barely opened the door.

"Look on the stove!" He quickly closed the door again.

On top of the small woodstove was a cast iron skillet with a lid on it. Sally started to grab the handle. She put her finger in her mouth, then touched the handle. It was warm but not hot. She raised the lid. The aroma was magnificent. There was some cured meat to the side and a grouping of corn-type muffins. She put some of them on a pie tin and took them to the table. A jug of sorghum was front stage center, so she applied some of it to the food on her plate and dug in. Halfway through she bounded up for a cup of the black coffee on from the stovetop pot. "You think you can fricassee these?" Franklin stuck a hand through the door with what looked like birds hanging from a leather thong. Sally stared blankly. "Grouse!"

Franklin came inside and sat opposite Sally. He grinned. Sally was still staring blankly. Her fork was in mid-air. "First you must pluck them!" _Franklin is getting a huge kick out of this. It will take all day for me to make the meal, but I will do it—and it will be the best meal he has ever eaten! Here I am flopping around in a petticoat, boots and a man's suit jacket for warmth!_

"All right, Franklin. Remove the insides of the birds.

"You want ME to remove the innards?" He laughed. He grabbed a muffin off of her plate and began chewing.

"Save me the giblets for gravy!" Sally watched Franklin disappear out the front door again. She heard him mumbling and laughing. She got up from the table and found a large kettle. She filled it with water Franklin had brought in earlier from the cistern. She put it atop the stove and found a towel to use as a hot pad. She opened the door to the stove and fed sticks inside and put a small log on the crackling wood. She went to the door of the cabin and moved into the cold air. Franklin had gutted the birds.

There were eight. She watched as he cut off the heads. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." When she was back inside the warmer cabin, she ladled some of the hot water into a smaller pot with a handle and carried it carefully to the front door and outside. She placed the birds in the hot water. Franklin chuckled as Sally left the porch to find a fallen stick from a tree. She found a good one and used it to fish the birds out of the hot water. She sat on the porch and began pulling the feathers out of the grouse.

"Let me know when you are ready for the giblets, now!"

Sally glanced up at Franklin with a look of irritation on her face.

"You make a tasty breakfast, Mr. Pierce. I am most grateful." He nodded at her. Then he burst out laughing, as Sally had feathers all over her fingers and one had made its way to the tip of her nose. She kept plucking away. Franklin got up from his perch on the kindling box and grabbed the feather off her nose. Sally got to her feet, picked up the pot and flung the water onto the ground. She placed the plucked birds in the pot, stomped to the door and went inside. After setting the pot down she cleared the remaining food from the skillet. She chopped some of the cured meat and put it back in the pan until it had coated the bottom with a nice film of fat. _Did I see some flour in here?_ There was a flour sack in a wooden box on a small table. A little flour remained inside. She placed the cleaned, washed, floured birds in the pan breast side down and waited for them to show signs of browning. She placed the heavy iron lid on the pan and began stoking the fire in the woodstove again. The log had not burned down yet, so she just added a few sticks and shut the door. She removed the lid again and ladled some of the boiling water from the pot to the birds and placed the lid back on the skillet. After washing her hands she went back outside to look around, she said not a word to Franklin who was tending to the horses. He watched Sally with great interest as she scoured the landscape for mid-winter edibles. He may have guessed at what she was doing, but knew she would not have much luck.

"All I could find, my dear man was some wild garlic.

I will take the giblets now. Where are they." Franklin pointed to a handkerchief that was tied in a knot. The giblets were inside. Sally gathered them up and went back inside. Franklin came in as she was putting the chopped and floured giblets into the pan with a tiny speck of the wild garlic. After a moment, she added more water and put on the lid.

"I forgot about these" Franklin said as he held up two large potatoes. They had been buried in a hole with straw.

"Perfect!" Sally responded as she took them and placed them on the table. She cleaned them with a cloth, cut them in half and put them in the boiling water.

"I'll go get a few more." Franklin disappeared and returned with four more small potatoes which Sally prepared for the boiling water. She busied herself with cleaning and she looked about for a table cloth. Finding a suitable piece of fabric, she placed it on the table, returned the lantern to the tabletop and began bringing dishes to the table. She glanced over to the bedroom door where she could see Franklin washing his face and combing his hair. She was glad when he finally came and sat down at the table. She noticed he had brought a book of stories. He began reading them aloud to her as she finished the meal. He had finished reading when he noticed her pulling the jackets from the potatoes.

"Ouch!" She burned herself repeatedly getting them off but she was smiling and humming as she mashed them coarsely on a plate. She scraped some of the potatoes off on two clean plates and with a fork she placed two birds on each plate. She ladled some of the rich pan liquid over the birds and potatoes. _I wish I had fresh milk for the gravy—it is so much better that way. But it is the 1800s and I must make do!_ She placed two of the corn muffins on the plate along side the rest, then added a little of the wild garlic to the plate for color. She carried the plates to the table. When she sat down she looked over at Franklin who had put away the book. _Why isn't he gonna start eating?_

He reached for her hands, grasped them and bowed his head.

He said:

"Our Heavenward Father, thank you for this bountiful meal, the delightful cook who prepared it, the gracious glory of our time spent together on this earthly plane, and the wonderful adventures we are about to share together. Amen."

"Amen." Sally squeezed Franklin's hand.

As they were finishing their meal, Franklin and Sally noticed huge flakes coming down from the sky. Franklin helped her clean up the dishes from their meal. Sally added some water to the food in the skillet and put on the lid. It would stay warm for another meal. Franklin pulled out his book and continued to read to Sally who gazed at him from across the table.

"Mr. Melville dedicated this book to Nath. Let's look outside!" Franklin said after he finished the last words of _Moby Dick_.

"Oh, look, Franklin, how beautiful it is!" The snow had gotten to about four inches in depth. Sally watched as Franklin walked to the fireplace and added two logs. Sally was still standing looking out the window as he approached her with a look of tenderness on his face. He took her hand. "Let us go write our own fine story."

* * * * *

THE FAT

"I'm waiting, Frank, and I have got all day." Mr. Hawthorne had just called his friend through the front door. One of Nathaniel's bushy eyebrows arched upwards, slowly. The eyes beneath his brow line sparkled. That was not the end of it. Those same eyes locked onto, then bored into Pierce's own. Franklin suffered a moment of confusion as he tried to read his old friend's body language, intention. That is when he saw the beginnings of a smile come to Nathaniel's face.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Nathaniel finally said, "Sally! Sally Weare, your enchanting cousin. There is a whole lot you are not telling me."

"Do you think you really want to know? It is very, very complicated. Maybe it would be best to not have it interfering with all the other important things already in your head. It will confound you and cause worry."

"She is not your cousin, is she? I have never heard you mention her before. And of course, I want to know everything."

"First of all, you are correct. Sally is not my cousin." Nathaniel's eyebrow arched again. "The other things I might tell you are so fantastic that I am certain you would think me insane. And you would even doubt your own sanity."

"Give it a whirl. My ears are the awaiting receptacles."

"Hmmmmmm. How shall I explain this. Some of your own writing expands on the possibility...why don't you just ask me some questions for now and we will broach the subject that way."

"All right. Are you related by blood at all?"

"No."

"How long have you known her?"

"Centuries."

"The plot thickens."

"I am a mortal man, Nath, but more than that, I am a soul, as are you. You do believe in souls...I think some of your writing hints that you do. Sophie and some of the other Transcendentalists seem to have the same, belief, but I am getting off the path."

"Well, yes, I think that would be a fair conclusion. You are very well-read, Mr. Pierce."

"Souls. We are all souls, then, including Sally."

"Are you hinting that Sally, that lovely vision, Sally, is a ghost?" Nathaniel continued to study Franklin with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Quite the contrary. I am the ghost."

"Hold out your arm." Franklin held out his arm as a playful Nathaniel Hawthorne reached to pinch him on the back of the hand.

"You shan't pinch me, Hawthorne!" Franklin withdrew his arm quickly.

"Isn't there some other test, that milk should clabber in your presence or something?"

"I know, I know, it is impossible to fathom, therefore I will take a different tack. Let us say you were to begin working on a new story...just listen."

"You fancy her, Pierce, this Sally Weare, and who wouldn't? I suspect she fancies you in a worse way, if that be possible, and it is about time you had some soft, human comfort in your life. It is just that I wasn't expecting it, and so soon after..."

"You are about to put the cart before the horse, Nath, but of course you are correct. There is no way we could hide it from observant friends, although we felt we were quite skillful in our deception. You know me too well."

"Continue, if you please, the story I am hypothetically working on."

"Consider Jonathan Swift, Edgar Allan Poe, their work."

"Yes, I am with you.

"What if you wrote a story about souls, in the other world, the hereafter. They come into an earthly existence, entering the bodies of babies, just being born, and starting to live their lives, growing, and finally when the body dies, the soul exits and goes back out to the hereafter. It waits to be born into another earthly life."

"Reincarnation? Is that what you are referring to?"

"Very similar but not in the known Far Eastern or Hinduism theological sense. Let's not even call it that for now."

"Go on then. I regret the interruption."

"Let's say your main character has a female counter- part, a soul twin, a perfect eternal mate, but they had been separated by the mortal lives they had lived. They had been selected to go into different places at different times because of purpose. What if their most recent mortal earthly lives had been unproductive, dismal?"

"Excellent—a good start for a plot, I agree. It could be dramatized by making it somewhat darker, the story."

"What if whoever decides these things allows the two souls to be together in mortal lives—but one lives in the 1800s and one lives in 2005?"

"Impossible, unless—one of them would have to go into another time."

"Exactly! And what if the one from the 1800s went into the year 2005, and there before his eyes was his soul twin, mate. . "

"And when their eyes first met, lightning bolts filled the sky, the thunder rolled, and sweet fragrances filled the air."

"Quite! How did you know? And what if this, let's say gentleman, from the 1800s gets to go for an extended visit to the early part of the second millennium, to finally take his one true love in his arms."

"This has possibilities, Frank."

"Wait, it gets better... and they get to have a few good years together, working on things to help further causes they hold dear...to make things better for many people."

"And?"

"And what if that gentleman is allowed to take her back one time, to meet his friends, for all their sakes, and what if he chose a ball at Bowdoin College as the meeting place for this event?"

There was an eerie silence in the room. The upturned corners of Hawthorne's mouth flat-lined, and then his mouth hung open and stayed that way. His bushy moustache resembled bundled pine boughs over a cave.

"I know, I know. It is a strange tale to dump on you, my friend. It is a tale, but what if it could be true?" Franklin stood up and put his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder and patted it thrice. "I am going to let you think about this for a spell, to taste, to digest, while I go put us on some coffee. Don't worry. I have done this many times and know where all the fixings are, as you know."

When Franklin returned with a cup for Nathaniel, his old friend was leaned back and twiddling his thumbs. As Pierce left to get his own cup, he called back into the room, "I brought a couple of fine Cuban cigars if you would like to go out on the porch later. That way we can avoid the wrath of your bride." Nathaniel could hear him laughing down the hall.

"Well?"

"It is an excellent story, Frank. I just might have to borrow it when I finish what I am working on now. I am going to jot some notes down this afternoon, so I don't forget, if you don't mind, but that is not your purpose. It was a roundabout and gentle method for explaining to us about our Sally Weare, with the bright green eyes and mahogany hair, probable love of your life and soul companion, and how you feel you were finally re-united with her. Very complex. We must continue this discussion, but first I must do some reading on some subjects of a spiritual nature, and after I am certain this is not one of those practical jokes you are fond of playing."

"I don't supposed you have ever played a practical joke on me have you?" Both of the men chuckled.

"And now I am ready for that cigar, Frank."

As Franklin Pierce and Nathaniel Hawthorne puffed their cigars, on the porch of the house in Concord, New Hampshire, Nathaniel continued, "What is disturbing to me about this preposterous story of yours is this: I don't want you to go anywhere, Frank. Going into a different time could possibly give you and apoplexy, and besides, who would I have to pick at? If you are destined to be with Sally, it will mean you must go..."

"Well Nath, I am already gone, actually. This is going to sound like total gibberish, balderdash, actually, but not long before I knocked on your door, I was in the year 2005 with Sally."

"You are already gone. You mean this discussion we are having..."

"No, in fact, this discussion never took place. This is not actually happening, now. Because in 1864, I did not take Sally to the ball. I went alone. Therefore, I would not have had anything to explain to you about Sally, now."

"This is so esoteric and eerie that it is wonderful. If it did not really happen, why did you even come here today? What a strange thing to hear coming out of my own mouth, to be asking my old friend, Franklin Pierce."

"Because I wanted to talk to you. I can think of no one I would rather talk to. We have always loved to chew the fat...and I wanted to announce to you that I will be bringing Sally back once more. Knowing everything, all you can engross yourself with deep conversations about anything she could tell you about herself or anything else you may be curious about. Of course she would want you to tell her about some of your personal writing experiences."

"I suppose this second meeting is not really going to happen either." Nathaniel's dark eyes were dancing.

"Actually, it won't. It will be, but it won't. It is, but it isn't. I am here, but I am not. We are returning, but we are not. Something like that."

Nathaniel Hawthorne could think of nothing to say.

* * * * *

WHO WAS NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE?

Beginning in the 1300s, a wave of witch-hunting and baiting of innocent people began in Europe and would continue for over 300 years. Some of this occurred at the hands of overzealous Roman Catholic bishops believing in the need to permanently stamp out whatever demons resided in the bodies of the unfortunate accused.

Eventually, the witchcraft hysteria came to the shores of America. Salem, Massachusetts was the center of this madness. In 1692 nineteen individuals were hanged and over a hundred others were arrested and awaiting a possible similar fate.

It all started because some young girls were impressed by the rituals and voodoo of a slave woman working in a nearby home. Tituba readily confessed to having powers.

The young girls began exhibiting strange behaviors: convulsions, speaking gibberish, fainting, seizures. In fact, any medical condition that could not be explained by the village physician, Dr. Griggs were an indication that the person was inhabited by demons. In addition to Tituba, two unpopular area women, Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne were held as witches. The panic snowballed and additional innocent citizens were arrested for trial on charges of practicing witchcraft.

More young girls were afflicted and were most probably play-acting because of all of the attention they were getting, not considering the seriousness of the consequences. The Reverend Cotton Mather was the main judge at these trials, which were circuses.

In Salem, Massachusetts there stands a large, oddly-gabled house. It has seven gables as a matter of fact, and it was the scene for some of the Salem Witch Trials. The judge at these trials was John Hathorne. The house is the very same house written about by Nathaniel Hawthorne in _The House of the Seven Gables_ , and John Hathorne was his uncle.

There is another small house on the same property and that small house is the birthplace of Nathaniel. He was literally, "born on the Fourth of July" in 1804. His mother was grief-stricken throughout his childhood because of the death of her husband, Nathaniel's father when he was only four. He was a voracious reader but had very little formal education. This shy boy who liked to be alone was the only writer his family had produced.

His family was from Puritan stock, and some of his ancestors held offices or positions in government.

In 1821 he was accepted to Bowdoin College. Two of his best friends there were Franklin Pierce and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Franklin and another friend, Horatio Bridge, secured positions for Nathaniel later in life. This helped him be able to write. He could receive income while writing on the side.

After graduating from Bowdoin, he went back to Salem for ten years and stayed away from people. He wrote most of the time and a few of the works did get published. They did not get much notice, even with Longfellow's critical backing. Edgar Allan Poe had once even praised his work in a round-about way. His friendships with Longfellow and Pierce were strong and life-long.

He began to work as a weigher and gager in Boston at the Custom House due to Horatio Bridge's influence.

In about 1841 Nathaniel Hawthorne moved with a group of Transcendentalists to Brook Farm. The Transcendentalist movement was made up of people like Ralph Waldo Emerson who believed that man should follow his inner light. Social rules were not as important. For Hawthorne, moving here was an experiment. He wanted to know what would happen if people followed their internal rules, or lack of them, instead of social ones. His novels spoke to this philosophy. The Transcendentalists supplied the ideas for his most successful writing. "Blithedale Romance" was inspired by these experiences.

Sophia Peabody, whom he married in 1842 had a sister, Elizabeth who was very active in the Transcendentalist movement. Elizabeth was the publisher of The Dial, the journal of Transcendentalism. Sophia and Elizabeth were supporters of Bronson Alcott who did experiments in education. He was Louisa May Alcott's father.

Hawthorne needed more income than his published works supplied, so he returned to Salem and took a job as surveyor at the Customs House. Shortly after his move to Salem, _The Scarlet Letter_ was published and he gained fame in America and Europe. It was his masterpiece.

In 1853 President Franklin Pierce sent Hawthorne to Liverpool as consul. When he completed four years of service, he went to the American artists' colony in Rome for more than a year. _The Marble Faun_ was inspired by his stay here. 1857 was the year Nathaniel grew out his thick mustache, after being clean-shaven most of his adult life.

Franklin Pierce commissioned a lovely portrait of Nathaniel, Nath, as some called him, and Herman Melville, another of his friends dedicated _Moby Dick_ to him.

He left this world in 1864 with his old friend, Franklin Pierce, riding shotgun.

As a footnote, it should be mentioned that Nathaniel was so horrified by the fact that his relative John Hathorne was a judge at the Salem Witch Trials, he changed the spelling of his own last name by adding a "w" to it. He was horrified, shamed and disgusted, but it influenced much of his writing and provided subject matter. It provided subject matter for his friend Longfellow as well, and he wrote a play entitled "Giles Cory of Salem Farms."

Martha Cory was a woman who was condemned during the witch trials. She may have had a chance, but when she testified in her own behalf, the young girls present carried on dramatically, and offered false accounts of being poked, pinched and bitten by invisible entities operating in sync with Martha's gestures and movement. Giles, Martha's husband, was slowly crushed to death as punishment because he would not plead to his guilt or innocence.

In 1693 Cotton Mather published a tract that defended the judges at The Salem Witch Trials and explained why he felt the "invisible evidence" they had used to condemn people was valid.

* * * * *

WHO WAS HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW?

General Peleg Wadsworth was a well-known officer in the Revolutionary War. He begat a daughter named Zilpah and when she was of marriageable age, she married Stephen Longfellow who was a Harvard graduate, later a lawyer, member of Congress and on the board of trustees at Bowdoin College.

Both husband and wife were descendents of Englishmen.

Zilpah enjoyed many finer things including nature, music and poetry. She gave birth to Henry on February 27, 1807, in Portland, Maine. Like Franklin Pierce, Henry had an ideal home life growing up in the old Portland house he was born in. He loved outdoor sports and walking. Henry grew to medium height with sensitive features. He was courteous, helpful to others, modest and scholarly. Indian folklore and New England history were two of his favorite subjects.

He entered Bowdoin College at age fifteen in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne and his own brother Stephen, the class of 1925. Franklin Pierce was in the class of 1924. He was a brilliant student in languages and literature, but his father kept pushing for him to go into law and work in his office.

When he was about to enroll in Harvard as a post-graduate, he was offered a professorship at Bowdoin. He left for Europe to prepare for his task of teaching modern languages and literature. Medieval history also became an area of study while on his tour.

In 1829, at the very young age of 22, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was one of the best scholars in America. America was yet an unpolished country and Longfellow was a frontrunner in bringing some needed culture to the infant nation. He also had an appetite for hard work and the habits required to crank out great volumes of writing. We are familiar with his poetry, but he also wrote plays, prose, reviews and many translations of foreign textbooks and poems.

He loved and studied the writings and sketches of Washington Irving. As a teacher he was effective and much-loved.

In 1834, Harvard offered him a choice professorship. He went once again to Europe to prepare, this time going to Nordic countries. He took his recent bride, Mary Potter along. On the trip, Mary fell ill and died. He was grief-stricken but found the courage to go on.

When he returned to Harvard, he spent seventeen years there. He was, again, a much-loved teacher. His duties were strenuous, but he found time to cultivate friendships and become a member of Cambridge society. He continued his volumes of writing. He wrote magazine articles, and poetry. Even children's poetry did not escape his interest as a writer. This was probably inspired by his own fatherhood. He had married Frances Appleton in 1843. They had six children, one of which, Fanny, died as a baby.

From 1842-1861 were the most prolific writing years of his life. Then tragedy struck. His beloved wife, Frances, was sealing up packets of locks of her children's hair when her dress caught on fire and she received fatal burns. Henry was burned badly himself, trying to put out the flames. It is rumored that he grew his beard for this reason—to cover up bad scarring. His hands were also burned.

He was immobilized by grief again and it took two years for him to recover enough to write another volume of poetry.

In 1868, Longfellow and his three daughters went on a final tour of Europe. He wrote up until his death, March 24, 1882. He is the only American to be honored with a bust in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey.

He is remembered best for these poems: "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "Excelsior," "Evangeline," (Hawthorne gave him the plot for this one) "Hiawatha," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," (based on his own family ancestors) "Paul Revere's Ride," "The Building of the Ship," and "The Village Blacksmith."

* * * * *

— _Under the dark of the moon, Franklin Pierce set about a chore that had been poking at his brain. It was going to be a difficult job for him to do alone. It would not be hard to locate the abandoned wells. They had been covered over by large stones and removing the stones would require using fulcrums and levers. That was hard enough, but it was getting the boxes out of the wells that would be the real test. They were wooden chests, covered by tin. Was the wood so rotten and the tin so oxidized that the chests would disintegrate when disturbed, spilling the contents? The chests had been placed on wooden platforms with heavy chains attached to pull them up out of the well. The chains had been well hidden when they were put in place. What was the condition of the chains now? He would not know until he was able to gaze down inside the wells. He would not know, but he had an idea that it would be impossible to haul up the secret lode that members of the Pierce Family had hidden there over a hundred and fifty years before, huge hordes put away for possible hard times or bank failures—all in gold coinage. He had assembled tools and lanterns to use, and he had also brought something that would be there in case he had to implement plan B. It was a claw. Franklin had purchased a claw like those used to grasp teddy bears and curios inside glass display cases at carnivals and fairs._

He had seen one in at a shopping mall arcade with Sally.

He had wired a small spade to the end of each claw to facilitate remote scooping.

A USE OF TALENT

"Mr. Fenway. I need you to come here and look at this." The young bank manager stood over the desk of the bank president looking as if the ghosts of Bonnie and Clyde had made a recent appearance in the back of the vault. Fenway gave and impatient sigh and got up to follow Michael Howard to the bank vault. The thick door remained open during the day, but the steel bars were up. Michael looked about. The room was empty, but for tellers, he used a special code and the bars opened. With another code he opened a drawer where all the large bills were kept.

All of the bills were gone. In their place were hundreds of gold pieces from the 1800's. In the drawer was a note written in Spenserian script:

I needed the currency. I have replaced it with these gold pieces that exceed the bills in actual value. You may be assured that the currency will be used only for the good of your fellow man. I am sorry for any inconvenience brought forth to you as a result of my actions.

The Avenging Angel

Mr. Fenway did not consider for one moment the intricacies of police procedure and picked up one of the coins. It was minted in 1845 and was in very good condition. Michael looked at Fenway's furrowed brow.

"Do we call the police? We must give this some thought. How much currency was in that drawer, Michael?"

"Two million dollars."

"Maybe I should just call the FBI. If I call the local police, they will call the FBI anyway. The tellers have enough in their drawers to operate for awhile. Let's you and I have a cup of coffee and discuss our options."

"But sir, should we not call someone immediately?"

"Normally we would, but these are special circumstances. Let's go over all of the facts as we know them..."

•

"The Avenging Angel! That was so clever, Franklin. And you are certain that none of the bills are marked? It is not like we are bank robbers, exactly—I couldn't deal with that."

"Why no, Sally. The solid gold coins I left are worth far more than the paper currency I took. Ten times as much, probably. They are only left with the inconvenience of cataloging them appraising them and putting them on the market. Then, receiving the cash back from the sale. The value will cover the inconvenience. Human nature will not let me down, I pray. The bankers will want to keep some for themselves—not report the entire amount. They might not even report it at all. They may dream up an excuse to close down the bank for awhile to figure out a way to liquidate the coins, then re-open when they have covered themselves sufficiently. It will be interesting to check the newspapers to see if we find a report. Of course there is no way they can trace the money we use."

"But Franklin, they have ways of marking bills now, with watermarks, special ink. The minute I use some of it I could be arrested."

"I will figure it all out, so don't you worry. We may be using credit cards or something similar. I may be the one to use the money, not you, and I would do it in a different locale, then disappear. There are ways to do these things. What we would need ourselves would be minimal, to keep you afloat—your bills are mostly all paid up. We would only need funds for food and utilities. Our large expenses will be for traveling, for the work we must do. Our first journey will be to Washington. I will observe our congress in action, develop some personal allies there, then decide how to proceed."

"Of course, Franklin. I'm sorry. I should realize that you are here for a reason and that all of these things will be taken care of."

"You are good to question. Otherwise you would not be Sally! The world has changed since I lived in it."

"What is it I should be doing, then, to get started on our work? Can you tell me?"

"What you will be doing, is writing, my dear. As you know I was not able to pass any legislation during my presidency. Well, _now_ , I will pass some, with your help. When we go to Washington we will decide what bills need to be introduced and passed, at least twenty. You will be doing some research of your own. You have learned all about self-publishing. One advantage, as you mentioned, is the speed with which you can get into publication using this method. It would be perfect if you could write little booklets or one larger book with twenty divisions on the reasons we need to introduce legislation on some topic. We will make up a nom de plume for you to use. I will see that the booklets get into the right hands. It will be complicated, but we shall do it. You will write it, with my help, get it published quickly, I will get it into the hands of congressmen, newspaper editors, publishers, we will get support and activism for the bills, they will get passed. We will over-do it so that two thirds or three fourths will succeed, at any rate. We will use a bi-partisan approach and make sure both houses of congress have the information."

"Brilliant!"

"What is brilliant, is your smile, and oh how it spurs me onward!"

"And I know you _mean_ it when you say it Franklin. You are the one fellow who _did_ mean it!"

"How many fellows have you had, girl? Never mind. I know. How well I know." Franklin chuckled.

"Then if you do, you also know that you were really the _only_ one."

"Come here, and let me look at you some more."

"Franklin, the booklets. How do you want them written?"

"Like fiction!"

"Fiction?"

"Now think, Sally. Think about your talent for writing. Would it do to have them all dry, a bunch of facts and figures that support the need for the passage of a bill? Why no. This will be the beauty of it. You will write an entertaining and poignant story. Touching, emotional. A story based, possibly on an actual bad result of not having a bill passed that someone has actually endured—or groups of people. The bad result would be so very un-American in tone that people en masse would feel unpatriotic if they did not correct it. Then over the last two or three pages, list the statistics that back it up. You would then also put a disclaimer that says the story is true, but all of the particulars have been changed to insure privacy of certain individuals. You might also say, if you are a congressman reading this, you already know who these people are and how to find out their names and if you don't know, why don't you?"

"Yes sir. You nailed it. That is exactly the way I would do it all right! If I sat right down and thought about it, that would be the way to do it."

"If you sat right down and thought about it? Well Sally you are sitting down now. Are you also thinking about it?"

She was instead thinking:

_Here I am jobless, about to live off of funds extracted secretly from a bank vault, sitting in the presence of the fourteenth president of the United States, while living in the twenty-first century. I guess that would require some special kind of talent, all right._ Sally giggled.

"Shhhhh! Don't interrupt me," Franklin said softly as gazed at Sally.

"Interrupt you? But you aren't saying anything, now!"

"No, but I am having pleasant thoughts."

* * * * *

POETIC JUSTICE

Sally Weare was looking forward to getting off work. She would barely have time to finish all the jobs on the list she had been given. She smiled. There had been a standard list of chores for all the floral departments of the store chain. She had several copies in her file at home. Yet, just this week, they had given her a new list with three times as many things as the original list.

Hmmmmmmm. Doesn't make much sense. Same amount of time as always on my shift. Business has picked up a little so there are more interruptions by customers, slowing you down, but there are now fifteen more chores on the list to do on my shift every day. What is even more interesting is that the other shifts have had chores removed from their list and put on my list. What would that tell a person?

She was trying hard to keep smiling. She would not say anything to anyone and just watch what happens. She would take notes and get witnesses when appropriate, so they could not say she had failed to do a chore. They had thrown out two more of her beautiful floral arrangement and let five remain that were wilted and amateurish, the colors clashed. They were arrangements made by another worker. A worker that had connections to the bosses. Her cheeks were still burning with the sting of the latest insult. She remembered how she had been sick, but came to work anyway. They would not be able to get a replacement. She said nothing to anyone but did the work the other people did not do. She did all their chores that day. Her fellow floral workers would not do them and thought they were too good to do them, but Sally went ahead and did them, then did her own list.

The next day the manager came up and told her some work had not been done and she was lazy.

It was everything Sally could do to keep from laughing in her face. She had not only done her own and everyone else's work, she had made up arrangements for two funerals and dealt with some cranky and time-consuming customers. It was such an off-base thing for the manager to say, that she could only come to one conclusion. Someone had an agenda. That agenda was to drive her off, but why? Didn't they want some fool that would do everyone's work for them? What possible benefit would there be to getting rid of her? She even worked all the holidays for them so they could be with children and families.

Here she was again. It was comforting to have thoughts of Franklin in her head as she twisted, wrenched, scrubbed, and scoured, trying to get all the jobs of the floral department done by the deadline so she could go home. _Franklin, when will you return?_

Sally had a dejected look about her: her bun, her horn-rimmed glasses, the recycled old clothes she had tried to update because of lack of funds. She WAS dejected. She liked being in the background. She was no threat to anyone and did not want to be a star. She was secure in her talent and ability. She had taken this job for one reason only. It was a job that could use some of her talent when her nursing assistant jobs had dried up.

She did not know why they were trying to run her off but they had done the same thing to Victoria. They had used her as a temporary manager when they had an emergency, then threw her away like garbage when they felt something better came along. Poor Victoria and her husband had to live in a tent during that crisis because they could not afford housing. _Nope, Victoria and Sally have been good people to do all the dirty work, but they are not part of the big plan._

Sally eased her way around the corner of the floral booth on her hands and knees. She scrubbed hard at the spots on the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw a dark silhouette against the brightly lit parking lot outside. The dark image approached the electronic doors to the store. _What is this? It must be an illusion caused by the heat coming up from the pavement._ The doors to the store opened automatically. The dark figure lurched backward and the doors started closing again. Then it came forward with hesitation as the doors opened. It hurried through the open space, looked back then continued forward. _I must be losing it!_ Sally looked down at her work, then made herself look back up. There was Franklin, striding through the electronic door. He had on tall riding boots and a black cape that fell to within a foot of the floor. His boots clicked along on the tiles and with each step, the cape flew out full around him, dramatically. His grey eyes were flashing, his face was red.

He glanced at Sally doubled up on the floor, then continued his determined strides to the food service area of the store. He glared over the countertop at the two women that were the cause of Sally's mistreatment.

"Imbeciles!" He shouted over the whirring of meat slicers and dishwashing equipment. "Fools!" The two women looked at him in horror.

"Who are you?" One of the women finally uttered in consternation.

"Silence! I am Franklin Pierce, the fourteenth president of the United States." They women backed away in disbelief. He was such a dramatic, imposing and unbelievably handsome figure.

Franklin then did an 180 degree turn and strode back to Sally. As he turned, the cape danced about him. He said to her, "Come with me," softly as he held out his hand. She hesitated only for a moment, then stood, removed her smock and dropped it. She grabbed her small bag off the counter, then took hold of his hand.

The customers in the store had all stopped their shopping to stare. Their mouths hung open to the delight of flies buzzing about. A few curious people followed Franklin and Sally to the front door to watch them go.

Franklin had tied his horse to a newspaper rack out front. As he and Sally stood next to the horse, Franklin gazed into her bespectacled eyes with sympathy. As he boosted her up into the saddle he muttered, "There" under his breath. He then swung his leg up and over the rear of the horse and as he settled in, he reached around Sally for the reins he had placed on the saddle horn.

Franklin turned the horse around and they cantered down a side road that led to an undeveloped area of real estate.

"I can't stand for you to be treated in such a disrespectful way," he said, as he slipped his left arm around Sally's waist. "Hang on! This will not hurt, really, but it is a shock. It is usually done, slowly, easily, but we must speed things up a bit." The horse jumped high, as if going over a hurdle. A jolt of light was coupled with buzzing noises and sparks as protons, electrons, neurons, atoms and molecules all crashed into each other, presumably. Blood and flesh remained stable but were jostled about as if being rearranged on an assembly line. The jumping horse alit in a field of vibrant wild flowers and began to gallop. A short distance later it came to a misty fog that had appeared. Franklin brought his steed to a halt. He dismounted and lifted Sally down from the saddle into his waiting arms. He held her for the longest time. _At last, I feel safe, at home!_ Sally began to cry softly into the folds of his waistcoat. They then slid themselves onto the soft carpet of colorful flowers beneath them for a respite.

•

As Franklin sat in an easy chair in Sally's den reading a big law book that she had found for him at the library, Sally began handing him pages that were coming off her printer, one at a time. "I do know the law, my dear girl. Calculating how much it has changed and allowing for the differences between the states, is a challenge, but we are on top of it." Sally handed him some more pages that she had finished reading, as she sat in the chair next to him. This would be the best way to do it, don't you think?"

Sally was not a vindictive person, however, "Yes indeed-y" was her reply. Franklin beamed back. An anonymous letter, written in Franklin's flourished hand tumbled into a mail box later that week.

•

"No first aid kit displayed in plain sight. No fire extinguisher in plain sight. Employees eating throughout the kitchen, including both of you, the managers." These were the final words that spewed from the mouth of the health inspector that was staring at his clipboard and shaking his head. Then he thought of something else he needed to say. "I am afraid we are gonna have to shut you down. We have made three other inspections this week unbeknownst to you, and it was always the same. The other areas that fall under your management include boxes placed high overhead with supplies that would be dangerous if they fell on someone. Sharp scissors laid throughout the store carelessly, in reach of small children. Hot pots of melting wax left about with extension cords falling through traffic patterns. Fine metal wires and twigs stuck about in boxes but dangerously where they could strike an eye. Living plants being cared for above food displays, with plant food, leaves and debris falling down onto the food. There are so many infractions, I cannot allow you to remain in operation until they are fixed." The two managers squirming in their chairs looked up as the inspectors rattled off more and more infractions. Every time the mangers offered a lame excuse they were cut off. The managers were then called into the office.

"We can't argue that we have been pleased with your sales figures, the way they are starting to pick up—but we are going to have to shut the food bar down for over a week and it is going to cost us thousands of dollars. Not to mention the fact that now we have lost the trust of our customers. Our reputation is ruined and we are going to have to let you go." The CEO delivered his decision tersely to the two managers. "If one of you was being negligent the other should have pointed it out, as a check and balance, but _neither_ of you did your job in this area."

Franklin read the small blurb in the newspaper to Sally as she prepared them some coffee and cheese Danishes: "the persons responsible were then relieved of their jobs."

"Perfect!" Sally said as Franklin added his opinion.

"They will not be able to hurt others in that venue again."

"No, not in that venue, anyway. It was a reverse Golden Rule, I always call them. They were done to as they had done others." She handed Franklin a very strong cup of coffee, just as he loved it. He slurped it loudly and smacked his lips. Then turned to her as he took another long sip.

"I was wondering Sally..."

"Yes..."

"If I were Mister Sippy," he sipped again as he glanced slyly over the steaming rim of the mug, "would that make my wife Missus Sippy?"

"Only if she were your _wife_. Missus Sippy? Oh Franklin, really!" _In another lifetime, perhaps..._ Sally could not control her mind from going _there._

Franklin put down his mug and reached for Sally's hand to hold.

"Oh Sally, really!" He mocked her.

* * * * *

Sally's task of composing pamphlets to be given to members of congress took up most of her time, and Franklin researched facts to help her do this while making his own plans for their trip to the nation's capital. They did however, save some time for a few of the things they each loved.

WEB WONDERS

Franklin sat in the worn but elegant wing-back chair in the den and tried to contain his curiosity as he watched Sally hunched over her computer. He could take it no longer. He put down his _National Geographic_ and stood up.

"What are you looking at now, ol' girl. Oh, just as I thought. That electronic machine of yours is providing you with all sorts of information just rolling by about..."

"Unsolved mysteries that confound us."

"That the same one you were looking at yesterday?"

"Yes, this one has always interested me—along with Loch Ness monsters, spontaneous human combustion—now there's an interesting one: Mokele Mebembe. The list goes on and on."

"Hmmmmm. I suppose if they were no longer mysteries, it would not be any fun."

"Of course, you are right, but I would still like to know the answer to some of them—and not necessarily a scientific answer, but a far-fetched one."

"Do you mind if I look a spell?"

"I think I will go pop something in the oven, my quaint intellectual. Oh, by the way. I got you some eyeglasses at the drug store. They are magnifiers. Here."

Sally picked up a pair of tortoise shell horn-rims and turned Franklin's chin toward her. She slid the earpieces under Franklin's hair and over the tops of his ears. Franklin smiled and caught hold of her wrists, gently. "I am putting these down a little on your nose and you can look over them for regular viewing, or down through them for closer up," she continued. Franklin leaned back and looked up at Sally.

"Like this?" He squinted goofily at Sally through the lenses.

"Adorable. Professorial."

"You should mention that rhyme to Henry." Franklin chuckled. "I shall remind you, when the time comes."

"Adorable. Professorial" Sally half-whispered as she patted Franklin on the top of the head. She returned to the kitchen where she continued to spy on Franklin by way of the pass-through window. She watched with amusement, shaking her head, as he studied the texts and images on the computer screen. She began to assemble a Chicken Alfredo casserole, but did not let that prevent her frequent peeking. _Oh lookee there. He is taking notes on a small pad. I wish I could make out what he is so interested in. It is one of the same pages I was absorbed in, of that I'm sure. An unsolved mystery...a sea monster, what ever became of Peking Man...fish raining from the sky..._

"Sally?" Franklin called out, "I need your help when you can."

"Just one second." She added the last piece of tomato to her salad and wiped her hands on a towel. "What can I help you do?"

"Now I want to find Federal Law cases. I am thinking about all the work we will soon begin. We shall be in the thick of it."

"Federal law cases... should we look under Supreme Court decisions? Wouldn't these be existing laws that were overturned or held, due to lawsuits?"

"That would be a good place to start."

Sally pulled a new legal pad from the bookcase. "Okay, write down the areas you wish to investigate. Examples would be education, transportation, postal system, armed forces. I am typing into the search engine 'Supreme Court decisions on...' Then, you yourself can type in a name on your list. Skip a space with the space bar before you type it in. When you are through looking at that subject, back-space it out, like this, and type in a new subject off your list. Click the search button and it will bring up another batch of things for you to read and click on. I am going to do this one, then watch you do the next. Good! That is what we call 'hunting and pecking.'"

"Hunting and pecking?"

"That should keep you busy until I get the dinner on the table." As Sally watched Franklin maneuver his way into the first two websites, she tried to sneak a look off at Franklin's little note pad. It was too far away, but she was able to catch one phrase: "bone fragments included broken femur." "Good for you. You have already got the hang of it. I cannot tell you how long I struggled with all of this. I do not like some of these new inventions, so much, but if I don't keep up, I will get left behind." She turned to go to the kitchen.

"Wait. Come back a minute, if you will. He swiveled the office chair sideways. As she did so he uttered, "I think I've got the hang of it. I think I need some more instruction in hunting and pecking—" He was working hard to keep from laughing out loud. The doorbell rang.

Sally was startled. She went through the French doors and looked out the window. There was a delivery van in the driveway, and the driver was headed back to it.

"Thanks!" Sally hollered after him. He returned her wave and smiled back at her. She pulled the very long bulky box in through the front door and began scooting it toward the den. She knew immediately what it was. She had no spare money to speak of, but she wanted so much to get these things for Franklin, that she had cashed in a small savings bond. He needed them. He was meant to have them.

Franklin had swiveled all around one-eighty in his chair. He leaned forward to see Sally struggling with the box, and bounded up to help her.

"It is not very heavy, Franklin, just ungainly."

"Here." Franklin picked up the box and carried it into the den and laid it across the sofa. It was almost as long as the surface it was laying on. Sally grasped the scissors from a mug and began cutting the tape. She opened the folding top of the box to see two bags made of craft paper inside.

"I want you to open these the rest of the way, yourself."

Franklin peeked inside. He had an almost tearful look on his face. His mortal heart was touched. His mortal mind could not fathom— _there she is, she has almost nothing left, she has been drained dry, emotionally and financially, but she is always thinking of me_ — The extra long box with the two paper bags contained a packing slip from Abercrombie and Fitch. He pulled out the largest bag.

"Go ahead." Sally urged. "No, no. Wait! Open the smaller one first. I changed my mind." Franklin slowly tore open the long bag as Sally watched his face.

"Sally, Sally, Sally. You are a wonder." His fingers began to caress the gorgeous precision fly rod that he had uncovered. He could not take his hands off of it and moved it closer to the light, felt the weight of it in his hands.

"Open the other one."

"Oh." Franklin laid the rod down and began taking the paper off the other surprise. He withdrew a pair of waders from their package with difficulty. Finally the wobbly, unruly rubber hip boots came free. He studied all of the new items like a scientist with a microscope.

"Oops. My casserole. I am sure it is crunch-ily overdone by now." Sally hurried from the room. Franklin heard the oven door open and close.

"Sally, come back, girl."

"Just a minute, the dinner is being attended to." She grabbed an envelope from the silverware drawer and went back into the den.

"Look at this, girl. What a beautiful piece of workmanship this is." He flexed the rod in the air and pretended to cast out. Then he placed the rod on the floor and turned toward Sally. He moved closer to her noticing she held one arm awkwardly behind her back.

"You are not completely cooperating." Sally was being evasive. "What is this? You are hiding something." He grasped her errant arm and pulled it forward.

"Open!" She waited. He looked confused as he read the small document inside.

"It is our fishing licenses. After supper, then. We will throw the dishes in the sink and go."

"This is wonderful. Wonderful, indeed. But what I really need is a hug of the neck." Sally complied as Franklin spoke again.

"What is it? What is it they call this? Spontaneous Human Combustion?"

Sally forced herself from his embrace with deep regret as Franklin continued.

"E-Gad woman! We were in grave danger of becoming an unsolved mystery."

* * * * *

"I'M FRANKLIN..."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Franklin had made an appearance and was sitting in Sally's den reading a book. His head jerked awkwardly. He expected Sally was still taking a short nap and was startled at the sound of her voice.

"Huh? Oh, hello, my dear. I did not expect you up quite yet. Well, I was in dire need of some of your home cooking. You know, maybe some roast and potatoes?"

"I am afraid I have none of that, kind sir, but what I do have is slim pickin's. I suppose you will be on your way then?"

"Oh no. I'll definitely be staying. I have stayed away too long, already."

As Sally gazed at Franklin through the pass-through window from kitchen to den, she began rummaging frantically through the freezer compartment. _There! I knew I had a package of this somewhere._ She pulled a pound of hamburger out of the freezer and began defrosting it in the microwave. She set the oven at 350 degrees and began the pre-heat cycle. _Cause I'm a wo-man, w-o-m-a-n, say it again._

"I have an idea, Franklin."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, you shall have your roast, but not tonight. I am sure you have never had what I am about to prepare, because it wasn't eaten in America until the 1930s or later."

"Okay, surprise me!"

Sally chopped a small amount of red onion—the only kind she had on hand-and mixed it into the ground meat. She was about to make spaghetti, but she was putting her own spin on it. She pressed the meat mixture firmly and evenly into a loaf pan and popped it into the oven. When it was baked through, she could cut the slab into cubes and add them to the sauce. She peered through the pass-through at Franklin. He was poring over the print, a smile on his face. She put a kettle of water on to boil and when the water was rolling, she put a good amount of dry spaghetti into the pot. She began setting the table.

"Would you like to wash your hands?" She called to Franklin. "You are being paged for dinner!" She heaped the steaming spaghetti onto two plates and covered this with the meat and tomatoes. As Franklin sat down at the table she placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.

"Well, my, my, what on earth is this, dear girl? It smells very good, indeed!"

"It is an Italian-American dish and it is spaghetti with square meatballs."

"Square meatballs?"

"Yes, Franklin, they are my own invention. They are usually round, but this way they don't slide around on the plate!"

"Sally, Sally!" Franklin chuckled as he took a bite of meatball. "Ummmmmmm. This is delicious. How do you eat these...strings?"

Sally tried to conceal her amusement. She had been watching Franklin struggle with getting his spaghetti onto the fork, and then into his mouth.

"Well, Franklin, you twirl it around on your fork, like this. Or you can cut it with your fork. If there is no other way, well then if you are not in a public place, you are permitted to slurp it!"

Franklin looked on in amazement as Sally slurped a long piece of spaghetti into her mouth.

"Spaghetti, huh? I don't believe I ever had anything like this during my time in Europe, but Nathaniel was fond of describing food he had eaten and he did tell me that when he was in Italy that Italians were always dining on some kind of noodle. Noodles this way, noodles that way, noodles flat, noodles curly, noodles hollow, noodles round. And this must be one of the round ones."

As Sally and Franklin sat in a stupor, caused by eating their huge plates of spaghetti, Sally finally ventured to speak of what was on her mind. "Franklin, I am just going to rinse these dishes and put them into the sink because I would like to take you somewhere this evening. It is a place I have wanted to take you for a long time, but since you are here anyway, and tonight would be the perfect night."

"Where?"

"It is another surprise, but while we are in town I will pick up the roast and potatoes and slow cook them for tomorrow."

"That sounds like a pretty good deal to me. I will try to make myself look presentable."

•

"Oh no! It's Doris-Ella and Mason McDonald." Sally winced as she maneuvered the old green pick up past the quirky bend in the road. She reached for her sun hat which was on the seat and put it on quickly. "They are slowing down. She is so nosy, and they are convinced I have a lurid secret life."

"Well, you do, Sally." Franklin could not contain his snickers as he watched Sally try to think of ways to get through this latest predicament. Sally slowed down the truck.

"Hello!" She nodded at the elderly couple. "My cousin and I are going to a costume party!" She motioned toward Franklin who sat beside her in all his 1850s radiant splendor, then she sped up the truck. "Good evening!" She called back out through the window at the dumbfounded elderly couple. She looked over at Franklin who was contorted in spasms of laughter.

"Stop it! Stop it right now! All right. I do have a secret life. But they know nothing of it. I have been their studious, eggheady, hermit neighbor, and this is the first time they have seen me with any kind of a man in years. I have no wild parties, friends calling..." She looked over and Franklin was doubled up with laughter.

"Costume party?" he was able to utter between guffaws.

"Stop it this instant!" Sally removed her sun hat and looked at her hair in the rear view mirror. "Okay, okay. It was funny. Okay, Franklin, you have a terrific sense of humor, what can I say?"

"Sally, you know how fond I am of you. But I have never been more fond of you than I am at this very moment." He reached across and placed his hand on her shoulder. She smiled across at him. It was a smile that meant that she knew. She knew she had never been loved by anyone so much and never would be.

•

"We are going into this church basement, Franklin. It is not an evening church service, but there are some people in here I would like you to meet. I am asking you to observe, take mental notes, then later, when we get home I would like your opinion of it."

"Sounds very mysterious, Sally, but I am sure you have your reasons."

When they were inside the church basement, Franklin looked about and saw about twelve people. Most of them were men, but there were three women, including Sally. Franklin realized his mouth was agape, but he managed to close it. The people all knew Sally and called her by name. They stared at him, not with a rudeness, but with a kind of curiosity.

"This is my friend, Franklin." Sally said as they shook his hand. He overheard two of the men toward the back and one seemed to say the word, "Amish." The other man nodded. The men then angled themselves farther away under the pretext of messing with the coffee equipment. Franklin strained to hear the rest of their conversation.

"Amish? Mennonite? Surely an Amish person would have no reason to come here."

"Why not? The affliction crosses across all segments of the population, remember? Remember all the ministers, priests, rabbis, airplane pilots, doctors, dentists? You name it!"

"Well, he doesn't seem Amish. He doesn't talk like them exactly."

"No, he doesn't, but what else could it be?"

"A costume, maybe? Maybe he is a dinner theater actor who came straight from a play."

"Or maybe we are hallucinating. Maybe we are on a dry drunk!"

•

Franklin tried to sit and observe, as Sally suggested. There would be a good reason for this. Each person in attendance got up behind a small lectern, introduced themselves, and gave a short speech. He paid attention to the words they used, and to the format of their speeches. He was very good at this because he was, after all, a lawyer. Then it was Sally's turn and he listened intently. As she sat back down, everyone nodded at her approvingly. There was a pause, then every single pair of eyes, the eyes of friendly and kindly people seemed to turn toward him. There were question marks on the faces the eyes belonged to.

•

"I'm Franklin and I have had the ominous burden of being dreadfully addicted to the demon alcohol."

"Hi, Franklin!" The people chimed.

"By the grace of our Heavenly Father, but not with the help of my friends, who were possibly drunker that I was, I affirm that I have been gratefully sober for over a hundred and fifty years." The people in the church basement tried to stifle their gasps."

"My dear father was a farmer, rancher and owned a tavern which was on the stagecoach line. I grew up thinking having a few drinks every day was a natural part of life. I loved my drink. I might add that if you were afraid to drink the water, you know did not trust the well, alcoholic beverages were your friend. They were also important for medicinal purposes such as snakebite, amputations, wound cleaning and surgery. They were a necessary part in trying to heal loneliness or a broken heart."

"I went off to college knowing nothing different, but it was a pious school, and my activities in that area were frowned upon. It was the first time I tried to curtail my natural tendencies toward drink. Part of this was to win the heart of the woman I loved. Her father was the president of the college, you see.

We got married and it was not a great match. She did not approve of much I did unless it was to practice law in our community. It was not my kind of life or my kind of friends. The desire to drink was overpowering, but I knew it would ruin the life we had chosen. In an attempt to turn away from my blasted compulsion and also make it inconvenient to be a slave to it, I helped start a Temperance drive in Concord. It became a dry town. I guess many men were also struggling with this demon. Maine became the first dry state in 1851 and later, twelve more states became dry, including New Hampshire."

The members of AA gathered in the church basement glanced knowingly at each other, with little smiles on their faces. Trying to exist where alcohol is not available is a ploy alcoholics often use as a shortcut to getting well.

I was able to go long periods without drink, with the exception of the Mexican War, but the death of my son, Benny, and my wife's resulting depression was too much to bear. This loss coincided with my Presidency, and when I did fall off the wagon, it did not go unnoticed. Numerous scandals ensued. They say I even backed over a woman with my carriage, in a state of drunkenness. She died as a result, but I have no memory of it."

The people in the church basement nodded in sympathy.

"And in closing I would like to thank Sally for bringing me to this group of like-minded people to share my story."

As they went out the door, one of the men at the meeting was heard to say to another, "You reckon Sally brought that guy to liven things up? You know what a crazy sense of humor she has."

"Naw. That she does, but she takes this AA stuff seriously. He was a smart ol' guy, very knowledgeable about American history. He had the voice of a great orator. Almost like he has a personality disorder or something. Sally is too cautious to hang around with someone who is 'off,' though. She would be afraid to. Unless he comes back again, we'll never know!"

•

Franklin could not take his eyes off Sally on the ride home as they bumped along on the dusty road.

"That is what we call a support group, Franklin. They have them for all kinds of problems in our society, including drinking. It is considered an illness and Bill W. and Dr. Bob were alcoholics that founded this group in the 1930s. It has been a lifesaver for many of us. I wanted you to go to a meeting as they had nothing like that available for you in your earlier life. Now, let's go put that roast in the Crockpot. I bet I could even talk you into peeling the potatoes, while I wash the dishes in the sink!"

Franklin and Sally made their way up the path to the front door. Their temporary burdens were the bags they each carried, but by the grace of God they and many others had each left bigger burdens and baggage in church basements.

* * * * *

DIRTY DANCING

Franklin was paying one of his daily visits to Sally's computer and she sat him down and taught him several new things about using a search engine for his research.

"What are _you_ doing? Wait, let me guess. You are Googling yourself. Am I right?" Sally asked as she walked back into the room.

"Why yes, I am, and also Googling my friends and some of my mortal enemies. Did you catch that? Mortal enemies.

I must say this is a frustrating but fascinating invention.

Invention, development, whatever it is called. I cannot concentrate, confound it, as I am too curious as to what you are about! Now, once again, what are you doing?" Sally seemed to be loosening up her muscles, doing exercises or something else he could not put a handle on.

"Here. I want you to try something. You'll have to get up. Stand here next to me, please, Mr. Pierce." Franklin had such a puzzled look on his face, but decided to go along. "Now, I will count, one, two, three, four. Bend your knees when I do, on one and three. Just stand loosely, relaxed, then start to go down into a crouch—but not quite halfway down, and come back up."

"Why, whatever for?"

"Shhhh! You'll see. Watch me. One, two, three, four. Crouch, two, crouch four."

"What is this about? What if I don't want to?" Franklin laughed nervously.

"Franklin! Come on! I went to the ball at Bowdoin, where I was the one out of place. You can humor me in my own den, can you not? Turn about is fair play. I know you to be a fair man, Franklin Pierce." Sally walked over to a box and started rummaging though her old cassette tapes where she found the one with "Satisfaction" by the Rolling Stones. _Wow, it has been a long time, but what memories of dancing over and over to this song through most of high school!_ Sally snapped it into the player and turned up the bass, almost blowing the speakers. Franklin covered his ears, then uncovered them barely to see if he could hear what Sally was saying. "This is modern music, my good man, and the way we danced to it in the 1960's, when I was very young."

"Oh, I shall try to grasp the knack of it, just for you!"

"That's good!" Sally interrupted Franklin's clumsy attempts to offer encouragement. "Now kind of bounce, bounce with your knees." When Franklin had mastered the knee bounces, Sally decided to advance him to the next step.

She rewound "Satisfaction" and started Lesson Two. "Now we will attempt 'The Jerk.' It is just what it sounds like."

"The Jerk?"

"Just watch me. You arch your back and snap backwards, then forwards in time to the music. You jerk your right arm first, then your left arm." She started the tape again. Sally let herself go in time to the music, paying no attention to Franklin. She had to turn away because it was so comical. Franklin was rigid, at times resembling Frankenstein's monster, or a zombie. Sally made the observation as she finally glanced over. "You are getting good!" She lied. "Now it is time to do some twirls."

"Twirls?"

"Remember your 'about face' from army days? You won't have any problem with this." Franklin and Sally did two awkward but successful twirls in time to the music.

_I can't get no, nah nah nah nah nah nah, satis-facshun, nah nah nah nah nah nah..._ the music was intoxicating. On the third twirl, Franklin got his feet tangled up and started to go down. Sally lunged forward and caught him by the waist, preventing the fall. Franklin could not ignore the warm feeling of accidental contact and looked longingly at Sally. She avoided eye contact. She was determined to have a dance session, come scourge or plague of locusts, hell or high water.

"One more time, my dear Franklin, then we will get a new song. Thanks for being such a good sport!"

_I can't get no... satis-fac-shun._ As the tape played on, Franklin loosened up and even tried to sing some of the words. "This is quite enjoyable, yes indeed-y!" He yelled over at Sally."

"Huh?"

"Yes indeed-y," I said.

She beamed for and instant, then twirled around on a cloud of bliss. Sally laughed and tossed her head back. He looked at her with a pleasantly aching heart. "Yes indeed, this is quite enjoyable, but I like this more. He caught Sally up and began to dance her around in a waltz. When she wriggled to be free, giggling, they lost their balance and landed in a heap. Sally moved to squirm away from his grasp again.

"You are so beautiful to me, Sally. You could not be any more beautiful. You are kind-hearted, gracious, your spirit sparkles to break away from earthly tethers. Your aura is intriguing, mysterious, always enchanting. Every moment we spend together winds up a glorious adventure." He hesitated a moment then after months of hesitation he finally kissed her, kissed her with such intensity that she thought she would 'fade away.'

_Love, is just a shot away, shot away, shot away, hey hey hey..._ This chorus from the next song on the tape resounded from the speakers as Franklin and Sally tried to catch their breaths once again.

"Yes indeed-y, ha ha!" Franklin exclaimed.

"Franklin?"

"Uh Huh?"

"You're a really good dancer." Sally smiled at Franklin and he beamed back, getting the gist of it.

Love is just a kiss away, kiss away, hey hey hey...

* * * * *

A MASTERPIECE OF TRUST

"Are you ready to answer some very serious questions? And am I ready for the answers?"

"Yes, Sally, I believe you are. I will try to explain to you what a mortal can understand. Remember, you are first a soul who has gone into a human life. Your soul already knows all of these answers, but your present self has no memory of your existence in the soul world."

"First, I know there is a God. There was a time in my youth when I doubted, but my AA program took care of that. Each major and minor religion has a God. Why do they all have different Gods and who is the real God?"

"There is only one God, and it is the God you know, Sally. Throughout earthly time, prophets were a necessary conduit to explain who God is, what He provides and what He expects. The prophets that existed in each religion, contaminated the information they gave with their own bias. Think of a newspaper editor that is just supposed to report facts. He could not resist putting his own opinion into the mixture. The readers then get a biased accounting."

"Was this evil of the prophets?"

"No! They were mortals, flawed, and had opinions.

They also had fear. They knew the climate of the times they lived in. They knew they must blend some of current beliefs in with what they were prophesizing or they would not be accepted. They also knew they had to stay alive to get the word out. They blended. They blended with the idea that they would perfect and purify their teachings when they started having followings. They needed to stay alive to accomplish their goals. The different prophets were from different areas of the old world, with different languages and dialects. Think 'lost in translation.' They also had different kingdoms, rulers and barbaric customs and beliefs to try to at least partially satisfy."

"When the earth is destroyed, Franklin, years from now, where will the souls then go for their mortal work? You know, the ones who have been coming to earth for that. In other words, souls have a kind of tour of duty inhabiting humans on earth. If there is no earth, no humans, what will the souls in the afterlife do for a tour of duty? To perfect themselves?"

"Souls will exist eternally, Sally. There is no time and no space. They will have other tours of duty, elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? You mean there are other worlds? I have always suspected this, Franklin."

"Of course there are other worlds. As you know, mathematical probability alone would confirm as much, if nothing else. I cannot explain this well Sally, you need your soul's knowledge to understand. Not only are their other worlds, there are other dimensions—for lack of a better word. There are no English words to describe these things to you."

"Is the only way for us to really be together, and for me to really understand, is for me to die here in my earthly existence?"

"Normally that would be true, but we have been given this exceptional gift. The end of the world is near, Sally. It is nearer than anyone knows. That is one reason the gift has been given to us—to have some time together as mortals. Keep in mind as I tell you this, that mortals are given tremendous pain to bear, but along with the pain they have adventure, excitement and pleasure that souls do not!

For instance, for me to be able to eat a delicious meal again as a mortal, taste all the flavors, was bliss."

"I am starting to see, I feel. We were given the ability to enjoy each other, to taste all the delicious flavors. We complement each other perfectly and have been given the task of learning new lessons, of balancing out the plus columns of our human lives. I have important creative work to do with your help, that would not be possible for me to do otherwise, and you have work to do that you could not get done in your lifetime that will be aided by my help."

"Exactly! That is pretty much it, simplified."

"If we carry out our work effectively, does that mean the world will not end?"

"It will end, my dear girl, naturally, with no help from mankind. But we may be able to help in a very small way to prolong the life of the planet. Others apart from us will also be at work for the same reason—to thwart some of the malevolent forces. Forces that are determined to bring about its premature death."

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Edgar Casey."

"Yes, he was being aided from the other side, as were many others."

"Nostradamus?"

"The list of good people being aided by the Divine is endless, as is the list of evil people being aided by.... Lucifer."

"And of course I know who most of those were."

"Sally?"

"Yes."

"I had the work of two or more lifetimes to accomplish. I had to die when I did. My life was done. My body was worn out. With my help it wore out quickly!"

"Franklin!"

"It is true. I was self-destructive, as you know. The additional work I had to do for soul perfection was at this time."

"If that is true, why were you not just zapped into the human life of a male born in about the same year and location as I? We could have had normal lives together."

"Oh what a perfect adventure that would have been, girl! I wished for that myself, but it is not about us, as you know, it is about our souls learning, perfecting and any good we can do in the process. I have to be able to cross back and forth to be able to do the work we are about to do now. You had to be mortal, now. In addition you had to be living your mortal life for the life experience you would need for the next step. Just as I had to have the life experience and situations I had in the previous century."

"It is still quite foggy in my brain, Franklin. I am taking the most of it on faith."

"You are behaving in a most heroic way, all considered, in a way no one else possibly could.

•

Sally gave much thought to what Franklin had said after he was gone. They were not new thoughts, but thoughts she had had for years. She seemed to be having more of them in her recent past.

She thought often about how we are animals. That was basically what we are—only slightly removed from chimpanzees. She thought of life on other planets. Was there another world where people were simply more evolved?

What physical characteristics would more evolution cause?

Loss of hair, disappearance of ears, less muscle development? Taller? Shorter? Would the aliens described as 'grays' be what earthly evolution resulted in, or were grays the result of other-worldly climates and conditions.

Did grays have souls? Was this what Franklin meant? If souls such as Franklin's and her own soul had no other earth to report to, would they go into the physical being of a gray somewhere else? Or something even more unimaginable than a gray? It didn't seem likely. It seemed that souls would go into something more human in appearance—so there must be some more human-type creatures out there in the universe. Not in our solar system, but out there. That meant that souls in Franklin's other world have to be able to transport themselves through time and space, instantly. She imagined a soul entering a body. _It would be like a contact lens going into an eye. Everything would be blurry, out of focus, surreal, but when the contact lens, or soul, settled, well, the eye could focus and see!_

Sally's thoughts often turned to perspective—the perspective we have inside our very own bodies and the way we are able to make our bodies perform tasks. _What would it be like to be in a kid's body again? You would be looking up at everything. Your body would bounce and roll with flexibility. You would not know the horrible things you have learned about—all the evil that had been done in the world, yet. Ha! That is what Franklin thinks of me in my worldly existence. He cannot give my mortal brain too much information because it is still innocent and could not handle it probably, even with divine guidance. I still have my mortal life to live and it would taint it, just as a young child would be tainted if the information of the real world were dumped on him all at once._

The concept of perspective took up some of Sally's thinking every day. She would see people in town walking around, old people, teenagers. She would wonder what it would be like to be zapped into their bodies at that instant, to view the surroundings with cataracts. With only one eye, with crippled limbs. She knew how the abilities of her hands and muscles had decreased over the last ten years. What would even more loss be like, when her hands no longer had the ability to make things?

What if she were in a woman's body right now, somewhere giving birth? Maybe in a clean hospital with family members close by. By the side of the road, with no one else in attendance? What if she were in the body of a prehistoric woman, doing the same? What if curious wild animals were gathering around for the kill?

What if she was in the body of someone in a crack house mainlining heroin? It was happening at this very moment, somewhere. What if she was currently being the victim of a murder? By knife? By gun? What did that feel like? What if she was in the body of the murderer? A spur-of-the-moment murder in a fit of rage? What did it feel like to come to the realization of the full extent of what you had done? Is it true some people black out the event when they are the murderer? What did it feel like to be a pre-meditated murderer? The careful planning of the awful event of taking someone's life. What did it feel like to be on a gurney waiting for the executioner's solution to drip into your strapped-down arm? What did a session in an electric chair feel like? No one would ever know the real answer to this one or tell it.

Sally Weare's sensitive artistic nature allowed her to experience some of these things in her head and feel all of the pain. Yet, strangely, in her own life she was not a bleeding heart liberal, but a political conservative. Franklin was a staunch Democrat. Was a Democrat then, in the 1800's, the same as a Democrat now? She would have to read some of her old political science textbooks. If so, how would they ever see eye to eye on any of the work to be done? They had never really talked about it yet. Maybe Franklin already had all the answers. Maybe Franklin knew from their co-existence as souls they were a flawless match for the work at hand. Maybe they tempered each other's extremes, buffered them toward center. They were both extremely compassionate toward their fellow man. This deep compassion had even gotten them into trouble so many times in their lives, and often caused them to lose sight of what they needed themselves. _My loveable Franklin knows all of the answers, already, so for me it will be a Masterpiece of Trust. That is what it is and that is what it must be!_

* * * * *

THE RING

Sally looked at the night sky above her. It was blue-black. The stars in the heavens were bountiful, crisp and glowing white. They were so many different sizes and shapes and every now and then was a large star that seemed to give off a slight orange, red or green aura. The wind was blowing her hair all about—she seemed to be flying.

"Stop! I'll fall. I'll break a hip, or something else!"

"No you won't, girl. We have got you. We are old hands at this," Franklin called to her soothingly.

Sally glanced in the distance and saw a thick layer of snow on the ground. A man with a thick white beard that echoed his surroundings seemed to pirouette gracefully. She became aware of a strange sound, metallic, almost. There was a slight crunch to it. When she looked to her right and saw Franklin on her arm, then looked to her left and saw Nathaniel Hawthorne on her other arm she realized that she had been transported. She was on a frozen pond in New Hampshire or Massachusetts, probably, and they were skating.

They were skating quite well, indeed, and she was hanging on to them for dear life. _Dear life—how dear my life has become with these wonderful men, and where is my dear life going?_

•

"This is quite, quite good, Sally. To my mind, it is. Your poem within a poem is a stroke of genius. The Indian asking to be taken up to his happy hunting ground." Henry offered these words to her as his fingers played over the piece of paper Franklin had given him. Sally glanced at Franklin who was trying to stifle a grin. "And what is a television, if I may ask? Your imagery in the beginning is something I would have like to have found, myself."

Sally was distracted by more rustling of paper. It was then that she noticed that Nathaniel was about to offer some comments of his own. "Now Poe, Poe would have loved this. A man finding a photograph of himself at a dumping ground far, far from his own home, and being driven insane by it. Where did it come from? Who put it there?" Sally was in awe. The night went on and on. _Here I am in this rustic cabin. We have used muscles we did not know we had in an evening of vigorous ice-skating. We are drowning ourselves in coffee and hot cider by the roaring fireplace and I am receiving benefit of two of the greatest writers in American history critiquing my work. I do not believe it is lip-service, either. I believe they are sincere. In another time and place I could have been a real writer._

Every time Sally got discouraged with her writing, she remembered this event. She had hung a Currier and Ives print of winter skaters on the wall of her office for inspiration.

•

"Sally, I am going to have to go. And this time you cannot come with me."

"Go? Is it Jane?"

"Oh no, girl. Jane has got her own work to do as a soul. It has nothing to do with me. Jane and I had our life together. We loved, were devoted. It was difficult.

We were so different. It was a learning experience we each needed. That is how it was pre-ordained."

"What is it, then?"

"I cannot tell you now, my girl. I must help two souls in peril. I feel I shan't be long. It has been decided and I must heed the call. I will miss you mightily, but never fear. Keep working on the writing projects. Nath and Henry may want to read some more of your work, maybe offer suggestions of their own. We'll go round to see them again, when I return."

"But Franklin, how can I live without you?"

"You shall not. I will always be near. We are the largest parts of each other's hearts. It won't be long. We have got much work still to accomplish. When I have finished my tasks, I will pop through a wall, drop down from the rafters and crush you with a bear hug. I shall explain every little detail of my mission. It will tug at your heartstrings and you will understand all. You are, after all, who you are. That is why I need you so. You will be so proud of what I have done."

Sally reached for Franklin's neck and clung to him fiercely. _You can't leave me now, not now._

Sally was filled with such a heavy sadness, but tried to make herself agreeable for Franklin's sake. She turned back the covers on his bed. She had given him her bedroom because of its more masculine décor, while she had spent her nights in the pastel, frilly, feminine guest room, her two cats on the foot of the bed. "Here, let me help you with all that gobbledygook," Sally said as she surveyed the buttons, collar, stays, ties, and cufflinks.

"Gobbledygook?"

Sally smiled weakly. Franklin's many-buttoned shirts, strange fasteners and underpinnings with side ties were silly, but comforting. _How will I even be able to function without him? I must try to be brave, as he wishes._

•

Sally woke up to a whistling, whining noise. She ran into his room. "Franklin? Franklin!" There was no answer and Franklin was gone. Sally's sobs echoed down the hall, out into the foyer, across the room divider. They echoed up the chimney and out into the countryside—the cries of a wounded, pitiful animal. As she sat on the edge of his bed, she noticed something in her peripheral vision. There was something on Franklin's pillowcase. She picked it up and leaned over to smell his scent, still there. She opened her fingers. They clasped one of Franklin's fine monogrammed handkerchiefs. It was tied in a loose knot.

As she untied the knot a gold ring fell free. It was a fine gold band with a dark red stone. She turned to reach for her magnifying glass. Turning on a lamp, she examined the ring carefully. It was hard to see because of the tears welled-up in her eyes, but after a few quick blinks she could make out something inside the band. A. K. P. Those initials—what could they be?

The last one must be Pierce. What did they stand for?

A, K... his mother! Anna Kendrick Pierce. He wanted me to have his mother's ring. Something tangible, until he returns. Something for her to cling to in the mortal world.

She slipped it onto her finger. "Please come back to me soon, my dear, sweet, Franklin!"

"I shall... I shall..." Said the wind as it whistled up under the eaves of her little country ranch house.

* * * * *

PART II  
THE WASHINGTONIANS

* * * * *

— _From Franklin Pierce's earliest exposure to the politics of a young America, in the company of his father, Benjamin, and his comrades, he had been deeply impressed by the experiment of democracy. Democracy was revered by American men such as Jefferson and Jackson. There was another great man who once existed and even though he was a Frenchman, he had done much to help the infant country, and he had done even more for democracy in general. It would seem natural that a young Franklin Pierce would have admired and idolized him. There can be no doubt that he would have tried to meet the man and talk to him personally, were it at all possible, and let us suppose that it was._

THE MARQUIS

"Yes, he is making a return visit to America, Frank."

"I should like to meet him, Father!" Twenty-year-old Franklin Pierce imparted these words to the aging, battle- worn Revolutionary War general that had sired him.

"And you shall, son. I have met this remarkable man on several occasions and I would like all of my sons to have the same privilege. I have started some correspondence with some of my cronies who are Freemasons. I want them to avail me the particulars of his itinerary, when it can be learned. I do not know about your brother, Ben. His military demands may prevent his ability to attend any of the events. We shall see..."

The old man and his son continued down the road in the buckboard. As the father drove the horses at a leisurely pace, Franklin studied notes for an upcoming exam. "I am glad we can help out the Morris family with these things, Father. It is a sad event to lose your belongings in a fire, I should think."

"Thank God in heaven above, son that we have never had such a misfortune. This will help them a little now, and tonight at the tavern, other neighbors are meeting to bring things and discuss how else they may help out. Frank, I am grateful you got a brief respite from your studies at this time. I have very much enjoyed the company of my boy. We miss you, your Mother and I do."

"Our Mother is a saint. How she has raised all of us I do not know."

"Especially since our boys were filled with the devil!"

Franklin's father whacked his son sharply on the thigh. His loud laughter could be heard throughout the countryside.

•

Benjamin Pierce opened the letter and read it aloud to his wife Anna. "Anna, we must get word to our sons to see if they can make this journey. Our children have not been officially been invited to these New Hampshire affairs, but we can meet in the two cities as a family, a nice reunion with our boys, and I am certain Lafayette will be glad to shake the hands of our awe-struck lads!"

"Ben, oh Ben, it is such an honor to be invited. I will dig out some of my old inaugural gowns to wear for the occasions."

"Nonsense! Scrounge around to find an old gown hidden away in the wardrobe or attic? You shall have new gowns with all the trimmings! You are after all a woman, my wife, and we can certainly afford it. Isn't that what women live for, my dear? Just such an opportunity to get a new gown?"

Anna Kendrick Pierce embraced her now muffin-faced husband and kissed him on the cheek. He beamed broadly.

"Why no," she teased. We live for the opportunity to serve our men and go through six confinements and childbirths, so they can rightfully carry on their legacy!"

Muffin-faced man winked and pecked her back.

They had much to be proud of. Benjamin Pierce had helped to carve out early America. He had served as a general in the Revolution. He had served as governor of New Hampshire. He had sired a daughter with a wife that had died, then married Anna and sired six more children—six who would all be contributors to an infant country in need of contribution. The girls he had raised had also married such contributors.

•

"No, Frank, of course not, we cannot go. We have all of these examinations to study for. And you should not go either!"

Nathaniel Hawthorne was in the midst of admonishing his dear friend. The bookwork and papers should come first."

"I must! I must go see the man again and thank him personally for what he has meant to our country."

"You have seen him, have you not? Did you not get to speak to him?"

"Yes, I did. I was able to visit with him in Concord, but I could not go to the reception in Philadelphia or Baltimore. He may not return to America again. This may be the last time to see him, and you fellows should go also. It is history in the offing."

"You are cooking your own goose, you know."

"Yes, I know. I shall regret the bad marks I get here at Bowdoin, but you and Henry shall regret more that you did not take the opportunity. It will never happen again."

"Alexandria is very far away. How will you get there in time and get back?"

"My father has written me a letter. They have decided to go to Alexandria, themselves. They have gone to meet with him in Portsmouth and Concord. Lafayette encouraged them to come to Alexandria as many of their common friends will also be there. Father has decided that they would go by coach to Portsmouth, then they would take one of several boats that go up and down the coast. The boats do not go far out to sea and deliver passengers and goods to the main ports. It is much faster that carriage or horseback. He has booked passage. Mother has acclimated herself to the mal de mer and can tolerate it."

"So that is what you would do?"

"I will go by horseback to Portland, livery my horse, then board the first boat I can get that will take me by sea then catch a smaller vessel up the Potomac to Alexandria. My parents do not expect me. They will be frustrated at my neglect of studies but will be glad to see me. Of that I am sure. I must work doubly hard when I return to Bowdoin."

Franklin Pierce ignored his two good friends advice, as well-meaning as it was. He had to see Lafayette one more time. He had been forever impressed by the charisma of the man and his views on democracy. These were views that were already serving to mold Franklin into the man and future president he would be.

•

Anna and Benjamin Pierce watched with a gallery of other esteemed guests as a processional made its way through the small side street. "Look, Ben. Do you see who that is?

Ben squinted. He was too nearsighted to recognize who Anna was gesturing toward. Two young girls walked abreast carrying beautiful footed glass candlesticks. Two girls before them had strewn rose petals. A short distance behind came the carriage of the Marquis de Lafayette. Before he could answer...

"It's the Potterfield girls."

"The children of David Potterfield?"

"Yes, I am almost certain of it. Your friend Enos. Enos Garrett, his daughter Eliza married David Potterfield, and these are their girls!"

"Enos Garrett's granddaughters then? We must go up to them later. Surely their parents and grandparents are in attendance."

"Oh look, Ben, can it be?" Lafayette had come down from his carriage and was entering the building. A handsome young man had opened the door to his luxurious conveyance.

"What, what woman, you know you have to be my eyes for these things, I cannot see!"

"Why it is our son, Ben, Franklin."

Franklin turned and smiled in their direction as the older Pierces made their way into the building the Freemasons had provided for their comrade's reception.

•

Sally Weare took the box down from her closet shelf. She opened it and gazed at the contents wistfully. They had been passed down in her family for eight generations—colonial pressed-glass candlesticks—beautiful in their simplicity, elegant in design.

The young Potterfield girls had carried them at an important ceremony of some kind. _Potterfield? Do not remember any Potterfields in the family tree. I will have to look that up.... okay, they had married into Garretts. The Garretts were easy to remember, just a couple of generations removed, long and strong in lineage. She did remember an oral history of these candlesticks, now, and it had been at a reception for Lafayette that they were carried. That was it—the Marquis de Lafayette. And where was the reception held? It would have to be at the reception that was closest to the girls' home._

Sally gazed once again into the box and touched one of the candlesticks with her fingertip. _A precious treasure._

She carefully packed them back up and returned the box to the shelf.

* * * * *

MARIE JOSEPH PAUL YVES ROCH GILBERT

Who was Lafayette? Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier was born at Chavaniac in Haute Loire on September 6, 1757. His older Family Members died when he was still a youth and he inherited a considerable fortune.

Although he was a French soldier and statesman, it is what he did for America that makes him so loved by its people.

He married at age sixteen and his young bride was from one of France's most prominent families. He was educated in Paris and his first real work experience was in the military. He was a captain in the cavalry.

His observations of the monarchies of Europe quickly disenchanted him. He became filled with fire in a campaign for basic human rights. Soon he was outfitting his own ship and when he had it filled with adventurers like himself, he sailed for America. The year was 1777. He offered his services to America in its fight for freedom.

After considerable discussion by the decision-makers, he was allowed to serve in the military—but without pay.

He soon became good friends with George Washington. Congress had allowed him the rank of major general in title only, but after Lafayette was wounded at Brandywine, Washington saw to it that he was given command of a division.

He was very young and spent the horrible winter with Washington at Valley Forge. He later led troops in the battles of Barren Hill, Monmouth and in the skirmishes of Rhode Island, after an early plan to invade Canada fell apart.

He returned to France in 1779 and returned again to America in 1780. He continued his military work here and happened to be a member of a court martial. It was the very court martial that condemned John Andre' to hang. Andre' received this sentence for his association with Benedict Arnold for surrender of West Point.

Another of his military successes in America was his leadership of the continental force which boxed-in Cornwallis on the Yorktown Peninsula, forcing Cornwallis to surrender to the American and French. Again, Lafayette returned to France.

Lafayette became an important statesman in his native land. He fought in both countries for individual rights and freedoms. His areas of greatest interest involved slavery, taxation, trade and religion. He was active in the French Revolution. There were periods where he was a very powerful man in France, depending on the political climate. He suffered many personal and political losses from the French Revolution and the rule of Napoleon.

When he was later in the Chamber of Deputies there, he was always on the liberal side. He continued his strong beliefs and activism for freedom in other lands including Portugal, Spain, South America, Greece, Italy and Poland.

He returned to America in 1784 as a personal guest in the home of George Washington, the man who had informally adopted him. He returned again in 1824 and traveled the United States visiting some of its cities.

He had lost most of his own properties in France, but in 1803 he was given an extensive land grant in Louisiana.

Congress also granted him 200,000 dollars and a township in Florida.

When he died in 1834, Lafayette's grave in Paris was sprinkled with earth from Bunker Hill and he received full military honors in the United States.

Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette was a Freemason.

* * * * *

THE CRAFT GUILD

Lafayette, Antoine Houdon, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Hancock, John Paul Jones, Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, Joseph Warren, Christopher Wren, Prince Edward of Britain—what do these men have in common? They were Freemasons.

The idea of Freemasonry dates to the late 1300s. The term "Free Mason" is found as an entry next to names in the records of the City of London. In feudal times, most workers and laborers were greatly restricted, even talented craftsmen. The only ones that could move about, away from their feudal lords were stone masons. These stone masons were revered and their work glorified as they labored over cathedrals, castles and other great monuments and buildings.

In a time before architects, stone masons guarded their trade secrets and stuck close together. They provided themselves with a local lodge building on the site where they were working. They slept and ate in these lodges, cross-trained each other, shared information to protect and elevate their craft. The result promoted camaraderie amongst themselves.

There were often imposters trying to worm their way into the lodges to learn secrets. This necessitated special systems of codes, signals and rituals that the authentic stone masons put into place to see if the strangers in their midst were imposters or the genuine articles. Were they qualified?

Eventually the codes, rituals and agendas took on lives of their own, and lodgers admitted people who were not actually stone masons themselves, but were held in high honor and friendship by the original members. These honored new members were often required to pay more money to join.

Thus Freemasonry evolved from an exclusive craft organization to a social organization.

The Freemasons were able to attract the cream of society, learning and arts. No one knows why this was possible except some think the mysterious customs were the main draw—and that these mysterious customs were thought to be a compilation of tidbits of ancient secret wisdom.

One of the beliefs was that men could belong to a type of brotherhood that valued each of its members, regardless of social rank. Their enlightened philosophy exalted brotherhood, tolerance and humanism.

Dr. James Anderson of Scotland drew up the first Book of Constitutions, and this was printed for the first time in America by none other than Benjamin Franklin, a Grand Master. This document was unique in that it stated that men of the brotherhood could come together for enlightened discussions and that their religious beliefs could be "parked at the door." These religious beliefs could then be taken up again, when leaving.

In its early days of organization, over fifteen princes would be initiated—four of these would later become kings.

Freemasonry was a non-political brotherhood, but the very ideals it professed could not help transferring into democratic leanings. Daniel Cox, himself a Grand Master in colonial America, instigated a movement that would result in America's try for independence from Britain.

The Green Dragon Tavern in Boston served as a lodge for St. Andrews Masons. Its leaders were Dr. Joseph Warren, John Hancock and Paul Revere. Many of the members of this lodge were absent from their meeting on December 16, 1773. Where were they? They were disguised as Mohawk Indians dumping British tea into Boston Harbor.

George Washington joined the Freemasons when he was twenty years old in Virginia. He became the Grand Master of his lodge, quickly. As he commanded the continental army, he relied heavily on his Masonic connections and delegated commands to officers who were also Masons. This helped create built-in loyalty among his troops. Lafayette was one such officer. He most probably entered the brotherhood during a meeting at Valley Forge. Washington had been pushing the creation of over ten military Masonic lodges prior to this, and when they were implemented, soldiers could look forward to having not only other soldiers as their brothers, but the brotherhood of Masons and maybe even meetings with the man, George Washington.

When Lafayette visited America in 1784, he brought a beautiful Masonic apron embroidered by his wife to give to his friend and mentor, George.

In 1779, when George Washington died, Congress began a project to raise a monument to the man. When they fell short of money for it, United States Masons raised the money, designed it, and started the construction. It was partially built and funding dried up. It sat unfinished for years. Along with lack of funds was a growing anti-Mason movement, fed by rumor and scandals.

In 1879 the construction was resumed, and the capstone was placed in December of 1884. The Washington Monument was dedicated in a special Masonic ceremony.

•

As far as we know at this writing, Franklin Pierce, and his father, Benjamin Pierce were not Freemasons. They were, however, surrounded by them, steeped in their customs, admired many of them, and were influenced by their vision for democracy. That is certain.

* * * * *

A NOBLE INQUIRY

"Sally, how is it going with you?"

"Oh, is this Fitzi?"

"Fitzi, it is, Archduchess of Kildare. Who else do you know that speaks the King's English?" I felt I should call. Your emails have dropped off, and they have changed in tone. Come on. Spill it. Are you depressed about something?"

"He's gone, Aine."

"Gone? Franklin Pierce is gone? What did he do, evaporate? I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Basically that _is_ what happened."

"Well, what happened? Did you break up?"

"No. He said he had to go help some souls who were in peril. That is all he said—and that he would be back."

"He probably will. I think he is an honest chap. I don't think he would want to hurt you. How long has he been gone?"

"Almost a month."

"That is a long time, my dear. Did he leave you on good terms?"

"Very good. He left a ring for me where he knew I would find it."

"A ring? Now that is _POSH_. This indicates a permanent connection of _some_ kind."

"He intends to come back. I'm almost sure, it is the not knowing what is happening and how long it will be. I am hoping not centuries! I haven't got that long—oh, did I tell you it was his mother's ring? Her initials are inside it, anyway."

"Yeah, he is coming back—you can believe it. What have you been doing with yourself?"

"I have been trying to do research on the pamphlets he wants me to write. I can't even concentrate on the work. I have gotten as far as rough drafts on many, but I want him to see them before I go any further."

"Yeah, I know how that goes. Your brain is just buzzing with depression, gloomy noise, and it is impossible to concentrate on anything."

"What is new with you, Fitzi?"

"One thing I called to tell you is that my friend Rich wants to go to America, and when he does, I am coming with him."

"You mean, I might get to meet you two, finally?"

"We still have a lot of planning to do. It will be at least a month, two or three would be more like it. Surely Franklin will have returned by then."

"We have got to make a connection. Let me know what you think your itinerary will be, the moment you figure it out."

"Are you going to be home for awhile?"

"When Franklin returns, we are supposed to go to Washington, DC. After we get back from Washington, he wants to get on a boat and go somewhere—China, I think."

"Wow! Fab, Dahlink. We will work all of this out so that we can get together. I am visiting nanny friends in California, one or two days each, probably. Maybe one in Florida, and Rich wants to see some famous American landmarks and some friends of his. No telling what all he has up his sleeve. He is making it a point to meet you, Sally, so we will work around your plans with Franklin."

"I wish I could give you a definite time line. I won't know 'til he makes an appearance."

"If he does not let you know what is going on with him in another month or two, do you think you could come with Rich and myself for part of our travels? It would be fun and might do us all some good."

"I will try everything possible. It would provide memories we could talk about for years."

"I think it would. I will call you back in a couple of days to see how you are doing. I wish I had known, Sally. You could have told me. When Franklin comes back, send me an immediate email, would you?"

"Why no."

"Huh?"

"If Franklin returns, I will be busy getting to know him once again." Aine could hear Sally laughing a mischievous, evil laugh."

"I don't know about you."

"I promise, I will email you immediately. I can't wait. We are going to have quite a time, Fitzi."

* * * * *

THE UNEXPECTED

"It fits. Yes indeed."

Sally Weare's lungs took in such a large volume of air at once that it left her unable to breathe. She was sitting in her den editing some of the writing she was using for the booklets Franklin had requested. When she regained her breath she started to rise from her chair. She could not.

A strong hand was placed on each of her shoulders. She felt the wave of emotion, the huge lump in her gullet. The hand on her left shoulder slid slowly down to her own hand and grasped it. She turned to her left. She knew the hand. Was it connected to the arm she also knew and had been missing? He had knelt beside her, now and moved her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. Then he held her hand out straight. "The ring, it just does fit."

Franklin stood up then and pulled Sally out of her chair. "Franklin! How I have needed to see your face." Franklin took Sally in his arms and gave her the huge bear hug he had promised.

"Would you stay for a cup of coffee? Dinner? Or are you just passing through?" Sally was finally able to speak. She was trying her darnedest to appear nonchalant.

"You! You come here." He placed her head on his chest and they stood in their embrace for several moments, rocking back and forth. "Never. Never will I leave you again."

* * * * *

THE TRAIN TO WASHINGTON

Franklin and Sally started to board the Amtrak. Franklin, outfitted in contemporary clothing, had taken his longish locks to a barber for a shape. They looked very much like an ordinary, financially secure, middle-aged couple.

"What is in your tote, sir? I'll need to check it."

Franklin made eye-contact with the porter. "We are taking these four bottles of wine to friends in Washington." Franklin rested the tote on an arm of the first seat of the car and pulled back the beach towel that wrapped and cushioned the bottles. The porter shined his penlight on the contents of each bottle, then carefully examined the seals. He turned each bottle again, in the light. Dom Perignon Champagne!" He said in a barely audible voice. "It doesn't get much better than this. Very well, sir. I can see nothing wrong with your stowing this in your seating area. Your tickets, please. There you are." He motioned with his hand. "Seats A-9 and A-10. May you have a pleasant journey. If you need anything, please ask one of our attendants, ma'am." He nodded at Sally who was boarding behind Franklin.

Their seats were halfway back on the right hand side of the car, the one directly behind the engine car, with twelve more passenger cars following. "Go ahead and take the window, Sally, I need the aisle."

"Sure, Franklin. I thought you would want the window, so you could watch the scenes of modern America go by. So, here we are, going from St. Louis to Washington on an express train. Are you sure this method of travel doesn't bother you?"

"I know it seems odd, but it is the only one I am familiar with, that doesn't involve horses, and as such, I am more comfortable with it, my dear."

"I guess these are our seats for the duration."

"Yes, I think it was you, yourself, that told me that if we wanted to change our seating, we had to get off at a station, get a refund and rebook for different seats. It is because of those things... "

"Computers?"

"Yes, that is it. Computers! I'm glad we did not bring any real baggage—just a few toiletries, the tote and our notebooks. It makes things so much easier. We will just ride straight through, eat what they offer us and nap when we can. We shall make up for it when we arrive in Washington, I promise you. We will get new clothes, whatever else we need, take long hot baths. We can rest up for a spell before we start our projects there. In fact I have a couple of surprises for you, right up front."

"Franklin! What?"

"Now Sally, you will just have to wait and see!"

Though the seat backs were much too high for a very good line of vision, Sally was curious about the other passengers in the car. She watched some of them as they went up and down the aisle, boarding, but that did not satisfy her. She partially stood up a few times to get a better view. Most of them seemed to be businessmen. There were two elderly couples, a young family and some students. The students were seated across the aisle, a few seats up. They had the first two rows behind the engine car on the left. Franklin grabbed the back of her jeans and pulled her back down in her seat. His accompanying laugh was quieter that usual. The train began to roll and sway as it left the station. He grasped her hand in his. "You are just perfect, Sally. Do I need to tell you?"

"Yes!"

"All right then, I do!"

"Do what, Franklin?" She teased.

"Consider you perfect."

"Didn't figure you would go to all this trouble, traversing the centuries and all, if you didn't have some kind of regard for me."

Franklin smiled, then he seemed to follow his mind to another place. Sally watched as he got out his legal pad and an atlas that had Amtrak routes in it. It also had interstate highway systems of the United States. He began sketching and doodling. Sally took this as a cue to pull out her lengthy paperback mystery and begin reading.

"What do you think? He nudged her and held up one of his doodles. It was a crude, cartoon-like sketch of Sally, sitting there reading.

"It looks just like me," she replied with a giggle. She noticed that the page was also cluttered with his renderings of curving tubes, with cylinders inside them, 3-D shading. This was one of his favorite doodles. This slight interruption had caused Sally to pause before going back to her book. "Who is speaking that foreign language, Franklin, and is it German?"

Franklin pointed vaguely up the aisle. "It is the students, Sally and I don't think it is German. It is Swedish, or Danish. Sally continued to listen. She stood up quickly to take another look at the small group, taking in as much as she could. They were all blonde and fair. They wore polos, sweats and jerseys with the insignia of small Midwestern colleges—all different. _I hope they aren't disappointed in America, seeing it by Amtrak in the Midwest and all. They seem to be having fun._ "Franklin, if the students went to these different spread-out colleges in the Midwest, why would they not be speaking English, and why are they not all from the same college?" _It seems a bit odd._ Franklin did not say anything. He was deep in thought and seemed to be listening to their conversation, in a language he did not understand. "You know, something, don't you, Franklin? You are getting some vibes, I cannot."

Franklin turned toward Sally and smiled. "Read, woman!" Sally went back to her book. The Amtrak express rolled on. An attendant passed out box lunches to those who had ordered them. When Sally and Franklin finished eating they were soon dozing in their seats, comforted by the food and the rhythm of the train on the rails.

•

Franklin was the first to waken. He got a drink from a plastic bottle of Coke. _How I love this Coke, stuff!_ He glanced up the aisle, then he turned to look at Sally. _She is so peaceful in her sleep. I must try to rummage through my things in a manner that will not disturb her._ He took his notebook out of the briefcase again. He felt around in a side pocket for the small pencil sharpener. _Ouch!_ His fingers ran across some sharp unexpected objects. _The nails! I had forgotten about the number sixteen finish nails._ Franklin felt around and pulled out ten of the nails. He had put them in there to use for an idea he was mulling over. They might come in handy at some point to drive into a piece of wood at pre-calculated spots and serve as an aid in tying flies. He smiled to himself as he put them back. It was an idea he had dreamed up but not yet tried.

Sally was awakened from her nap by a commotion at the front of the train. She started to stand up but Franklin held her back. He leaned close to her. "Do not be afraid of anything that happens. We will be all right, that I can assure you. I will need your help and it is important for you to do exactly as I say. Stay down and do not get up."

Sally squeezed his hand.

"What is going on?"

"There is some trouble with the foreign students. They are causing a problem." Sally watched as Franklin seemed to collect his thoughts. He seemed calm, but worried. "I've been thinking. Give me one of the bottles of champagne, Sally, very quietly." Sally shot him a dirty look.

"We don't drink! Did you forget?" She almost spit at him. She watched the smile creep slowly on Franklin's face.

"Do as I say," he whispered to her. He was fumbling around in his briefcase as quietly as he could. He reached into the side pocket for the nails he had found not long before. She handed him a bottle of champagne and he busied himself undoing the foil over the cork. He began working one of the nails down into the center of the cork, sharp end first. With a pilot hole in the cork he then inserted the blunt end until it was in well and held fast. "Get the foil off another bottle." Sally began doing as she was instructed. She was not able to see the drama and horror taking place from her seat. Franklin was able to have almost a full view. "See if you can sharpen the exposed ends of the nails a bit with your fingernail file, the diamond one. Be careful."

The P. A. in the train began to crackle. "Do not move. We are stopping the train." One of the students grouped at the front of the car was now speaking in perfect English.

"Again, do not move or you will be shot. These will be your last moments on earth. Praise be to Allah!" There was an audible collective gasp coming from the riders of the train.

Franklin could see two of the group as they attached a small explosive to the lock of the door into the engine car. When it blew, the passengers thought a shot was going off. Some began to scream.

A hysterical woman shot up out of her seat to see what had happened. One of the group of students popped off a shot at her and she collapsed. "Do not try this again! You will be shot!" Commanded the student over the P. A. The two students who had blown the door were trying to get through to the engine room, but they were not able to budge the door. The engineer came on with a message of his own.

"I am not stopping this train. We will not give in to your demands." The students spoke some words together in their foreign language. They began to group together to form a human ram for the door. They were going to try to break in the weakened lock with the strength of four people.

Franklin noticed a large, well-constructed man sitting on the aisle to his left, and two rows back. He had on a gray business suit. A similar type sat next to him by the window. He made eye-contact with the two men, then gestured to them with his index finger, to wait. He wrote a large sign on a piece of paper:

### CREATE A DISTURBANCE IN YOUR AREA  
AND I WILL TAKE ONE OF THEM OUT

The man on the aisle hesitated, then a wave of understanding rippled across his facial features. He began talking quietly to the man seated next to him. Franklin hurried to ready his creations. The four students remained flanking the door to the engine car, scanning the passenger seats for irregularities. They could not see the man seated next to the window as he crumpled newspaper into a ball the size of a cantaloupe. The other man coughed softly a few times to cover up any noise he was making. The students' eyes turned toward the two seats. Passenger B-14 tied his handkerchief around the newspaper ball and knotted it. B-13 had made a long cylinder out of more newspaper and B-14 shoved it up inside the ball until it held tightly.

"What the hell is going on?" Passenger B-13 shouted the question to no one in particular. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" He continued loudly. The man next to the window began thrusting his newspaper dummy quickly up over the seat back so that it could barely be seen by the students. This very old gag from Western movies was getting the desired effect, as one of the students charged down the aisle with his gun drawn. B-13 continued his loud, disjointed phrases.

Franklin saw his opportunity and he took it. Just as the student coming swiftly down the aisle passed his seat, he popped the champagne cork, which he had begun to ease out of the bottle. He aimed for the back of the student's head. The nail penetrated his skull and went into his brain. He fell instantly. Franklin readied another bottle. A second foreign student, very confused about what had happened, started down the aisle to check on his fallen comrade. Franklin was able to hit him in the temple with a nail-enhanced champagne cork as he started to bend over his friend. He, too, fell, his brain penetrated with a number sixteen finish nail, the cork still attached.

Sally had moved very close to the window to give Franklin a wide berth for his activities. She remained alert and ready to help. She had also kept her fingernail file gripped firmly in her hand, just in case. Passenger B- 13 and Franklin dropped to the small floor space in front of their seats and barely reached out the occasional hand to manipulate the limp bodies and get the Lugers off the fallen students. It did not take long and the remaining two students were not paying attention, anyway. They had sensed something was very amiss and put their combined efforts into ramming the blown door, which was still being stubborn about budging.

As the door gave way totally, they were thrown to the floor in a pile halfway on the other side of the doorway. Franklin was the first to run up the aisle, B-13 was right behind him. Franklin pumped three rounds into the students. Passenger B-13 who was stoked on the adrenaline of fear, anger and urgency pumped off some insurance rounds. He then confiscated their guns, not noticing that Franklin was now grasping the microphone of the P. A. system. "Hello. . hello. ." he grunted awkwardly, out of breath. The engineer came back on to ask for a report. Franklin was still not exactly sure of operational techniques. "This message is for the engineer. You must stop the train. The terrorists have been subdued. We must evacuate the train—there is indication of possible explosives aboard." There was silence from the engine room as the train plowed on. "For God's sake man. You have no reason to trust or believe me, but seconds count."

The businessmen, Passenger B 13, asked Franklin for the mike. "We should do as he says. He is the one who eliminated the terrorists. I am the mayor of Bristol City Iowa, Ollie Willkerson. I am sure you know the code word for such emergencies. Without giving it away, I will say that it starts with an "M" and ends with an "E." The passengers could feel the train beginning to slow down. The engineer made an announcement of his own.

"When we tell you that the train is completely and safely stopped, exit each car in an orderly fashion, from the doors. Walk as quickly as you can to get as far away from the train as possible. If you need help getting off, please tell one of the attendants. Do not worry about any items you have brought on. Your very life could depend on how quickly you can exit the train. Go now!"

"Sally, we need to get people off the train. Grab up our small amount of stuff and get as far away from the train as you can. I will not be long." She nodded her reply.

•

The passengers were off the train and most had made it a good five hundred feet away from the track. A shrill voice broke through the tense, drama filled air. "My little boy! My little boy! Where is my child?" The mothers screams were pitiful. Four of her children were at her side, but one was nowhere to be seen. Other passengers held her from running back to the train. Franklin and the mayor glanced at one another and ran toward her. "Which car were you on, ma'am. There are thirteen. Do you know which one it was?" She was hysterical and they could get no sensible words out of her.

"She was on the third one back!" Another passenger, maybe a relative shouted to the men.

"Where is the closest bathroom to that car?" The mayor asked a nearby porter.

"It is in the fourth car." Franklin and the officer ran back toward the train. The mayor shouted, I'll start at car one and you start at car five we will meet in the middle." Franklin ran through the door of car five working his way back. He did not have much time. He found the bathroom and the door was shut.

"Son are you in there? Your mother needs you. You must come out now. Your mother is sick and needs you." The door opened and a small frightened-looking face peered out. Franklin yanked the door back roughly, and grabbed the child. He carried him in his arms down the aisle. As he exited the door, the mayor exited the door of the next car and they ran toward the evacuated passengers.

The long line of passengers watched in horror as the train they were riding on exploded, one car at a time. Franklin and Sally wound their way to the fringes of the throng, as they observed the engineers and others talking on cell phones. Sirens were winding down in the distance. "We must go, Sally. We have possibly gained too much attention to ourselves as it is." The passengers were still in shock. Debris from the explosions had flown over their heads or close by. Cinders and ashes peppered their faces and clothing. They had shell-shocked looks of disbelief on their faces. Franklin and Sally were easily able to make their way into the nearby woods and then on to a small settlement without notice.

* * * * *

THE MYSTERY MAN

Franklin wanted to get the first substantial news story available about the terrorist event. He would also pore over it in a copy of _The Washington Post_ when he could get his hands on one. He had a vested interest in the events and the outcome, and also in what they were saying about him. An early small-town news daily had this to say:

### Massive Terrorist Attempt Thwarted

A nation-wide terrorist attempt has been thwarted by a mystery man with the help of fellow passengers on the Capital Limited Amtrak from Chicago to Washington, D.C. departing originally from St. Louis.

Authorities are seeking his identity and plan to have a composite sketch of the pleasant-looking middle-aged man later in the week.

Middle Eastern terrorists have apparently recruited new members and are calculatedly using people who in no way look Middle Eastern in appearance, but are blonde, fair and Nordic. It is not at this time believed that they are religious converts, but are instead hired mercenaries pretending to be religious converts.

The terrorists had planted bombs on each car of the train. Their plan was to terrorize the passengers, stop the trains by force, exit them before the bombs detonated.

Because of the confusion, it is not known at this time what kinds of weapons were used to take out the terrorists.

Fortunately this was the first train in a series of fifteen Amtrak trains that was planned to be exploded in a two-hour time span on the same day. Because of the events surrounding the first train, the other Amtrak trains were stopped and evacuated and all of the bombs were located. A ring of over sixty Nordic types were rounded up and incarcerated. Authorities are investigating their possible association with various Middle Eastern terrorist groups.

Franklin was relieved. _So far there has been no mention of Sally as my companion. We will have to ride this out to see if she can be identified by any of the passengers._ "Well, now, girl, I guess demon alcohol can come to some good use after all."

Sally Weare was reading the newspaper over Franklin's shoulder. "Oh Franklin, only you could pull that off. Champagne bottle weapons. Really! What are we going to have to do now? Lay low?"

"Something along those lines..."

* * * * *

THE SENATOR

"Sally, I think we should split up tomorrow. I have some groundwork to lay at the capital, and what I want you to do, if you are agreeable, is to go to a nice department store and outfit me."

"Outfit you?"

"Outfit me. I will need two or three nice suits—with matching vests, dress shirts to go with. I trust your exquisite judgment."

"Three piece-ers?"

"I guess that is what they probably call them—an overcoat, shoes, dress boots, maybe, an attache. Well, you know what I need to look senator-y. There will be a lot to carry, so I will meet you and help you carry it all. We will take a cab back to the Willard."

"Can you tell me what you will be doing or is it private?"

"Oh, it is private, alright. It is between us—me and you." Franklin smiled down at her.

"What is it, then?" Sally cocked her head at him.

"I have convinced a young senator to give me an appointment. It was not easy. I have convinced him that we have family ties that go way back—which is true, but there is no way I can explain that to him. He would have me thrown out of his office."

"As Dr. Watson so famously said, 'Capital idea, Holmes.'"

•

"Gwen?"

"Yes sir."

"A Mr. Ben Pierce will be coming shortly. I will see him the minute he gets here, if you wouldn't mind showing him in."

"Yes sir. I think this is Mr. Pierce here now. I will bring him on in."

"Good morning, Mr. Pierce."

"Good morning, Aaron. I don't expect you to know this, but as I mentioned, my great-great, and your great-great-great grandfathers, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, and Archibald Gant were best of friends. Their old stomping grounds were Hillsborough County and they fought in the Revolution, side by side." Aaron nodded, knowingly. "I have recently come into enough money to try to lobby for some changes effectively. My dear friend Sally Weare is a writer and she has written and printed beautiful pamphlets to get into the hands of each senator and representative. They are basically thought-provokers, inspirational, fire-in-the-belly material. We will assemble these into pamphlet packets containing all in an attractive format. They are non-partisan in that they are firstly American. I am giving this packet to you, for you to read and I await your response and advice. I realize maybe not all pamphlets would be workable. For the ones you are in agreement with, is there a way we could circulate these among the members of Congress? We had thought of mailing them, but we do not think that would be effective. They might get sloughed off to the side, or miss-directed."

"Certainly, Mr. Pierce. They look tantalizing. I will read them and go over them carefully. We would make an announcement on the floor, you know, 'concerned citizens request the courteously of the acknowledgement of the receipt of this packet' then pages could distribute them. Maybe we should enclose a return postcard for the acknowledgement. If I find anything questionable, I will hold it aside and we will discuss it before proceeding further. Fair enough? Now what else can I do for you?"

"I would like for you to personally discuss with me some of America's most pressing problems and what is on the table currently for correcting them. My friends and I are always ready to print up more pamphlets on different propositions if need be."

"I find you the most fascinating character I have met, Mr. Pierce. Would it surprise you to know I have set aside the whole day for you?"

"I am surprised and flattered. _He reminds me so very much of Benny._ No amount of time is ever enough to solve America's problems, so let's get started. I am going to go down a list of problem areas and I would like for you to summarize what is on the table for correcting these things if any."

"Fire away!"

"Huh? Oh. Earth-friendly, economical energy sources, immigration, updating transportation, frivolous lawsuits, income tax reform, outsourcing, affordable healthcare insurance, welfare reform—these are the major ones but we have about fifteen lesser ones to take a look at, but not now."

"Mr. Pierce, you amaze me. We already have operating committees on immigration, healthcare and energy. We always need fresh ideas, however, new input. The others you mentioned do not have any active committee work going on. I would very much like to hear your ideas and we will see if we can get some committees going."

"Well, I forgot to tell you, that since I recently was able to get some money for funding, I have set up an independent committee of scientists to examine the energy problem. Some are volunteers, well-fixed and retired, wanting to help their country and some are paid by private funding. I consider this an emergency, and decided to go ahead with some ideas, and the testing of them, build proto-types, just in case the government gets bogged down on their end of it. As you know the wheels can and do grind to a halt."

"I am floored. I secretly hoped a brave group of people would do this. We need all the help we can get, no matter where it comes from. Any chance I could take a peek some time?"

"Well now, let's see. I don't think it will be a problem, since it is you." Franklin winked at the young senator.

"Frivolous lawsuits have cost America dearly, as you know. Malpractice lawsuits have driven all of our best rural doctors out of business. They were the bedrock of American healthcare. The malpractice insurance is too much for them to handle. Most of them were doing thirty to fifty percent charity work, anyway. Other lawsuits have bankrupted pharmaceuticals. Both of these entities were dedicated to saving lives or improving quality of lives. The money lost there, and companies down the drain, is money we do not have to advance medicine through research—all for one person, or that person's lawyer's greed. Insurance premiums have gone up accordingly and are not even affordable anymore by half of our nation's people. Butchers and poisoners should not be tolerated, but occasional mistakes are made by even the best people."

"And what would you do about this, Mr. Pierce?

"Well, since we are dealing with the federal government in this instance, I would make some proposals in the federal arena, that hopefully the states would follow or use as a model. Or perhaps we could talk some states in to doing pilot programs themselves to serve as models. I suppose that lawsuits should be red-flagged by dollar amount—what the litigator is asking, and of whom or what he is asking it. Usually, the lawyer, working on a contingency, sets this amount. This is a black mark against all lawyers, I might add."

Aaron nodded. "I am afraid that is where the term 'sharks' came into play."

"The way I am thinking, the person bringing a lawsuit for an exorbitant amount should undergo counseling, by a special counselor. He would be asked if he knows how many lives his suit is going to effect in a negative way." Franklin could see Aaron sitting at more rapt attention, perking up. "The lawyer would undergo counseling by a committee of his peers. These lawyers would quiz him about ethics. Does he have definite proof that his client was injured, or is he relying on the fact that it is impossible to prove anything, either way—that it exists in a gray area, difficult to prove by either side?"

"Go on, Mr. Pierce, I am with you, I am so with you."

"The lawyer and his client will then have a cooling off period of at least one month, where they re-think things, see if they want to proceed after the in-depth counseling. If they decide to press it, they will then have to go before an anonymous committee—their identities are hidden, behind a curtain, glass, something—so they will not be in danger, targeted for abuse, and this anonymous committee will hear their lawsuit and decide if it is frivolous or not. These committees will be selected in the same way people are selected for jury duty. If it is not frivolous, it proceeds to court. If only the amount is frivolous, suggestions are made, if the suit is blatantly frivolous, the lawsuit may go no further and the client is liable for all expenses incurred by his lawyer, fees, etc.

Both the lawyer and the client may be asked to pay a fine for taking up the time of our courts on something so frivolous."

"Yes!"

"It is meant as a deterrent, nothing more. Like locks on a canal. One must go through many steps to get to the other side. The person bringing suit must think it out very carefully."

"It is sending the message: do not even attempt to take up the court's time with folly!"

"Exactly!"

"Immigration is a tough one, as is something I choose to refer to as reverse-immigration. I do not believe there should be an immediate cut-off. Again there should be a four or five year baffle to get the people used to the idea, the harshness of the change in the system—a change that would be drastic."

"How drastic?"

"Perhaps a quota system, or a flat number. We would take X number of applications for citizenship per year, no more."

"I feel more drastic coming on."

"And you are right. Did not our forefathers earn the right to be here? The fighting for freedom, the clearing the land, everything they had to do? They gave blood, sweat and tears and lives for this country. They loved it, were committed. I am thinking new immigrants should earn that right also. Three years of service-army like, while they are learning about this country. We would analyze America, find out what it needs. We know right up front it needs new roads and bridges, new equipment that generates energy, re-forestation. The conditions would be army-like as far as housing and food and maybe bare bones infirmaries. They would have to pay for these accommodations with money earned. There would be no government benefits. Maybe a simple infirmary for those taken ill and a savings plan. They would have to study citizenship, American History, English. They would be required to attend these classes. It would be a hard three years, but then they would be set to be a contributor, and not a detractor. If they could not set themselves up by this time, they would be deported. They could re-apply but first-timers would go to the top of quota lists.

"Service in Peace Corps, Vista-type programs, that would be good if they could not make it here financially."

"Again, it would be and obstacle course, a deterrent. If they met all the criteria, they would be citizens worth having. Please, and I can't emphasize this enough, these things I am proposing today are very general propositions. They need to be honed and polished and made palatable and workable by committees—they won't succeed as I am presenting them to you. They are too harsh—that is what good bill-writing committees are for."

"And now, what is this reverse-immigration?"

"It has come to my attention that American has a large faction of complainers. There is nothing wrong with that, really. It hurts morale, but there have always been complainers in America. That is nothing new. In fact, that is often what creates good change. Are the complaints legitimate? They may well be. There is a large group of Americans whose ancestors were brought here by force. They did not have a choice."

"Yes, it was terrible, a dark day in our history."

"We will never be able to repair the pain and injury of that horrible situation. Yet, we current Americans now, did not personally do that injustice. We will be continued to be blamed for the actions of our ancestors. It is like blaming a great grandson for a crime his great grandfather committed and trying to make the great grandson responsible for it, even if the great grandson sits in horror of the crime himself, but is helpless to know what to do about it. We will continue to try to buy off guilt with more give away programs, which is counter-productive for all."

"What do you propose we do?"

"Some of these descendents of the pitiful victims do not even know their heritage, very sorrowful indeed. We would provide that for them. We would try to settle up this score, once and for all. We would set up DNA laboratories where they could find their exact country of origin. Some of this is being done privately now, and it is somewhat expensive for the average man, unaffordable. Then we would have a pool of counselors that come from this same background as the applicant people, maybe they had the educational background for this kind of work or could even be paid volunteers. They would give the interested parties the results of the tests, show them on a map where their peoples originated, tell them what the country of origin is like now, what opportunities it has available to them, if they are open to immigration and so on.

It is very important that the counselors come from their own demographic, just as alcoholics should be counseled by only recovering fellow alcoholics, for example. They will then have a period of time to think about it, to decide if they would like to return there to live. If they want to go to their country of origin, the United States government will help them. If the country they wish to go to will take them, we will try to help them be prepared, maybe give some instruction in what they could do there such as farming, ranching, teaching skills, make sure they will be set up to succeed in their new surroundings. If that country could not take them, would they want to go to a friendly and neighboring country, instead? We will do what we can. They must understand that financing their return is a one-time affair. They are going to live, not to visit, and getting back into this country again, will be very difficult. We will help them go, if they are that miserable here...it is all voluntary and not required."

"'America—Love It Or Leave It!' Very good, Mr. Pierce. Something for people to think about. And it even crosses my mind that if those countries cannot take them, that maybe there _is_ another country that would take them, that they would chose to go to, another possibility."

"You know, Aaron, that is an excellent idea. There are many island countries that are sparsely populated, needing development that could use more people and they are almost paradises."

"I will jot that down."

"Now, my boy, are you thinking me terribly un-American? A mean and terrible grouch?"

"Of course not. These are desperate times and circumstances—the problems we are dealing with now in America. They may require drastic measures."

"I assure you that I am a caring and compassionate man. I am a life-long Democrat. Some of our 'be kind to others' policies have gotten completely out of control, however. That is one reason, I am coming to you, a Republican. Our country is suffering mightily because of it. If we take some strong measures now, we might be able to turn some of these negatives into positives. I also realize that most of my ideas I am laying out here are, as I have mentioned, too radical, but we would set up committees—privately funded if necessary to explore all the possibilities. Will all the brains we have in this country surely something workable and palatable would arise. They would be hashed and re-hashed until acceptable solutions are found."

"What is something else you would like to address, I am all ears?"

"Welfare reform. We did not have Welfare when I was a boy. It does have many merits, and I am not against Welfare, per se. I am against Welfare being doled out to people who aren't even American citizens or people that can work for a living but won't. Again, that goes back to immigration laws. There are several problems I see compounding each other. I also have a problem with fathers coming in and creating a pregnancy, then that same father cannot be found later, or mothers who will not name the father, i.e., 'I don't know.'"

"There is quite a bit of that going on."

"These women should also get counseling. They should be counseled on basic biology and it should be explained to them the relationship of certain activities and the nine months of pregnancy and the blessed event that follows that."

"Ha ha, you are kidding!"

"No, I am not. They know who the fathers are, yet they are pleading ignorance. What should we say? Okay, you don't know for sure, so you must name the two most likely candidates."

"That is good! What if they still don't claim to know?"

"Well, they are going to insist they don't. So, we of the government are going to say, if you do not even know who the father of your child is, you are disqualified from receiving Welfare. You have got six months to figure out the name of the father. John Smith will not do. You have to give pertinent information about said father. We will work with you and when you name the father, you will receive some partial benefits. You do not name the father, no benefits at all."

"I am ready for part two, which I feel is coming, Mr. Pierce."

"Furthermore, the number of children. You will continue to receive Welfare benefits for the number of children you presently have, but for no more. If you want to continue to get Welfare, you must get a tubal ligation. You will be given a pregnancy test, and if you are not pregnant, you will get a tubal ligation. You will sign off on this procedure so that if there are complications, there will not be legal recourse. If you ever become financially responsible, hopefully this will be a reversible procedure for you. None of this is required, of course. It is only required if you want to stay on Welfare. The US government cannot continue to pay for your multiple pregnancies. The school systems cannot continue to raise you children for you. You might say, 'Birth control is against my religion,' and we would say 'Fine.' You will not get Welfare unless you are rendered sterile and perhaps the religion you profess—your church members can pick up the tab for raising your children."

"Do you think it would ever pass?"

"It seems extremely heartless and harsh, I know. It all goes back to separation of church and state. We cannot tell you what religion, if any, to profess, but neither can you use your religion as an excuse to receive state benefits. Before they had Welfare, churches and communities did what they could. People were too embarrassed to abuse it. It was so embarrassing to some that after one pregnancy they stayed away from the activities that created it and went on to have productive lives and contributed to their communities. This harsh measure is a teaching tool. It would take a generation or two to be effective, but these things are bankrupting America both economically and morally and we can't continue to pay for it. We must start now to do something, if ligation is too harsh, then we must put a cap on the amount of children we would care for with Welfare and that would be heartless, also. Some children would not get any care at all, that way. We could always identify the 'love 'em and leave 'em males" and require vasectomies."

"Ah ha! That would put a stop to quite a large percentage of it, I know you are jesting and _that_ probably would not be feasible. What would you say about the IRS?"

"The first thing that comes to mind is that the IRS is a huge operation: huge buildings with heating and air conditioning, equipment, machines, many, many highly paid employees with all kinds of benefits. If that were eliminated, how much money could we put in our pockets every year? I am still working on this one—it needs much work on the figuring-out end, because if we do away with the IRS as it is, it would be a great loss of jobs and hurt the economy in _that_ way, but it seems logical to have flat taxes for predetermined income levels—people would just prove their income and send a flat tax accordingly, eliminating all redundancies. Of course, eliminated jobs in the IRS could be compensated for in other areas. We have got to find new jobs in transportation, energy, engineering and eliminating outsourcing of U.S. jobs. That will take me another day to expound on!"

"You have some great ideas, Mr. Pierce. Some have been vaguely presented before but discarded before anyone was willing to take them to the next level, or do the work required to convince others. Impressive—I like the pamphlet idea. This will inject new life into stagnant committee work to say the very least. I don't think some of them would have stood a chance a few years back, but I do think America has finally become sick and tired of being sick and tired. I can't wait to get to work on some committees for some of these things myself, now, and you don't know how I have enjoyed talking to you. I will get started right away and contact you when they are up and operating. Do you wish to take part or would you like to remain in the background?"

"In the background for now, but keep me apprised and I will see to it that you have a pool of talent or finances, consultations, anonymously when needed." The two men shook hands, firmly and strongly. "Thanks so much, Aaron."

"You still at the Willard Hotel?"

"Yes I am." Franklin called back over his shoulder as he started to go.

"Oh, Mr. Pierce?"

"Yes."

The young senator smiled. "I had you checked out. You didn't think I wouldn't, did you? Funny thing, you don't even exist!" He winked. "I don't know who you are or where you are from, but what we may be able to accomplish for our county could be monumental."

Franklin tried to hide his shock. He smiled back at the young senator and went out the door. He knew these ideas were sometimes drastic, but he had confidence in the various committees that would be formed and their abilities to soften them and make them workable. He still had much of his bankroll still available, and he knew where he could get more, on dark nights in New Hampshire. Desperate-feeling and concerned citizens with resources were coming forward with aid and talent.

•

Gwen peered into her boss's office an hour later. Aaron was kneading his lower lip with his fingers. A subtle smile was on his face. He had something pulled up on his computer screen. It looked familiar. She remembered it now. It was a composite sketch of the mystery man—the mystery man who had thwarted the terrorist attempt on the train to Washington, several months before. If she had stood there any longer she would have heard strange clucking noises and a long cool whistle exiting Aaron's mouth.

* * * * *

MOONBEAM MAGIC

"So Sally, what do you think of the moon? Don't hold anything back." Sally was partially hypnotized by the giant orb but she regained her senses long enough to try to humor him.

"It is a beautiful thing, so large and mysterious in our sky. Are you sure you want to know what I think?"

"Most certainly. I want to know exactly what is in that pretty little head of yours."

"My mind sometimes wanders to the earliest men on our earth, when I stare at it, and how they found themselves on a seemingly flat surface with vegetation. They had quite a bit to be frightened of already—but when they knew nothing of the planets, solar system or universe, and here was this huge object in the night sky, always changing in shape and color, what could they have thought? The sun in the sky, such a mystery, the changing weather and seasons, then the mysterious moon!"

"And what else, dear girl?"

"Then my mind turns to other planets in our solar system, or ones beyond. I am there, an alien, transported by my own imagination. It is night or dusk and I am seeing several moons, different sizes, different colors, maybe. What a wonder!"

"Keep going, girl, about _our_ moon."

"Well along with the other mysteries of our moon, I am transported via imagination to the mystery of the seashore. There I am sitting in very shallow water, which I love to do, letting the waves roll over me, they come and go over my legs that are baking in the sun, and I am thinking always at that time: _the moon is causing this, our very own moon._ Sometimes I leave that very safe place and I am far out at sea on a small fishing craft in the middle of a storm. The waves are as tall as three lengths of our craft and we rise up on one of these huge waves and then fall again and I am afraid in my own mind. Our existence is so fragile. The sea is huge and powerful with instant and possible destructive movement."

"Ah! There you have it! You have hit it exactly on the head, as did I. I borrowed some inspiration from my seafaring experiences, of course. Sometimes things are so obvious, right before our eyes. Within forty-eight hours we will be discussing this very thing in a room full of elite scientists and engineers. Aaron has arranged it at my urging and he has been able to get the help of some philanthropic backers with large bankrolls. They have no interest other than the well-being and future of America. They will expect no later payoff."

"How can you be sure of that, Franklin? That they will not later finagle it into a payoff."

"Well, nothing is certain, but I have ways of investigating their motives, I have access to their life histories or resources who do."

Sally had loved to watch Franklin doodling and jotting things down. He had not been ready to explain much of this to Sally, but she knew he would tell her when he was.

"What mysterious things have you come up with, Franklin?"

"The power of the waves in the sea—perpetual, endless, enormous motion caused by the gravitational pull of the moon. There has to be a way this energy can be harnessed—harnessing the moon—we shall have a hand in it. We have coastlines along three of our borders—then there is Alaska and Hawaii and other islands. The power waves could generate would greatly overshadow what wind turbines are doing, and in that same vein wind turbines at sea would be much more efficient that the landlocked wind turbines in use now."

"And we need to develop something that will have minimal effect on destroying the beauty of the landscape, do we not?"

"My thoughts, exactly, and I got carried away with my designs and as one often does, on the verge of discovery I completely ignored the fact that maybe these were already being developed. I used your computer, ol' girl to do that Googling stuff you taught me and I found pages of them already being developed by different counties. Our own country even began developing them and has already abandoned most of them as being impractical and too costly."

"Too costly? Well, Franklin, that I can believe but nothing can be as costly as buying oil and gas from other countries and letting them decide the price of it."

"We as Americans can build anything. We have proven that. Anything we try will take at least thirty years to get up and running. If we don't begin shortly we will continue to be slaves to countries that control most of the gas and oil in the world. They will continue to try to bully and blackmail us—we need to be free and independent of them once and for all. At the same time, for the sake of the world, we need to develop something that will not put pollutants into the atmosphere."

"When are you going to let me see them, Franklin? Your designs. I have wanted to, you know. I have a compulsion see them!"

"Hmmm. Compulsion. Funny you should say that. Don't go anywhere, now. Wait right here." Franklin started to go through the sliding door then corrected himself. He turned back toward Sally. "I guess it would be better if you would go place yourself on that settee by the light." He retrieved his legal pads and folders and followed Sally to the loveseat.

Sally peered down at the papers Franklin held on his lap. She knew much of what he had on his mind to do there in Washington. There was a priority list on one of his legal pads—and endless doodles. He had drawn many pictures of cylinders within tubes, and then there were folders full of more doodles. He turned to a recent doodle.

"You and your doodles, Franklin!"

"Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a po-nee!" Franklin sang, slightly off key. Sally gave him an "oh no" look.

"Are you admitting you are a Yankee? A da-yam Yan- keee?"

"I guess, ma'am, that I am—and it won't be the first time I have been called that, among other things." He winked at her. "These are my own designs, Sally. I did not invent the idea of ocean wave/wind power, as I discovered and as you already know. I am, however going to put my designs out there on the table tomorrow, just for fun."

Sally's eyes sparkled as they roamed over page after page of the drawings. _Franklin is not a bad artist—nor a bad singer, even if "Yankee Doodle" was a little off, he has quite a resonating voice._

"This is one of my wave machines." Franklin pointed to a rendering. It consists of large weighted hammer type pendulums that are on swivels. They let the wave carry them forward and backward, going with the flow of the wave. They are anchored by a giant screw in the ocean floor, but the tops are held aloft on a float. The float is well lighted and they are contained in a perimeter that is off-limits to sea vessels. Above the water's surface is a piston type apparatus that rotates to generate the electricity. It is transported to the coast by cables and stored in a storage facility—a giant battery—to be rerouted."

"Very impressive. I love these. I think it would be more than feasible with the right engineers, don't you?"

"I do! And I cannot wait until I see what they have to say tomorrow and also what other ideas they may have along these lines."

"I must know about the tubes and cylinders."

"Those! I have almost abandoned that idea, but I will see what they have to say. That is not a new idea, at all, but a very old one, that of transporting humans in pneumatic tubes."

"These are brilliant, Franklin. I have loved the idea of pneumatic tube transportation, since I first read of it in '1984.'"

"Pneumatic tubes are just one idea, Sally."

"Can I see these, Franklin?" Sally urged Franklin to lay out his designs side by side on the small coffee table.

"All of my designs use either recycle-able steam, often aided by magnets. The steam is condensed and reused indefinitely. Ocean wave/wind generated electricity is another. A supplemental form of energy conservation would be offering incentives to companies to allow their employees to work at home from computer terminals. Not all jobs could do this, but far more than are doing now, possibly one third of them or slightly more could do this. It would not only cut down on the cost of commuting, fuel, the wear and tear on automobiles, but also office space could be reduced, lowering heating, cooling and lighting expenses and also giving land back to the landscape."

"Playing devil's advocate, just for the sake of our discussion, I want to hear you opinion of these things: magnets. Would long term exposure be harmful to people? Automobile manufacturers, would they all be obsolete, losing their jobs? People themselves—they have always been very resistant to giving up their personal transportation. They would still want to use this in their individual communities at any rate, especially within a fifteen mile radius of their homes."

"Excellent points, dear girl. Anyone ever tell you that you could have been a lawyer?"

"Not recently, anyway!"

"Well, you have the brain to be one, but your heart is too sympathetic perhaps. The personal transportation dilemma is something that perplexes everyone. It could not be changed over any time soon. They would still have to use their individual methods for that, current roads available with a gradual change-over to electric or alternative power for these jaunts, but the continent would have a large system of required travel such as routes of our current interstate highways. People who went against the flow of things would be penalized monetarily—it would not be forbidden entirely but discouraged by fines."

"The automotive industry?"

"Of course the automotive engineers of all major manufacturers throughout the world have been developing fantastic designs. The public has not accepted them and has continued to use the gas and oil products. They have many things on the drawing boards as do the railroad designers.

The public has not been ready for them and it is almost too late. We have done too much damage to our good earth. The automotive workers would not lose their jobs, back to your question, they would just change jobs. They would design, manufacture and build the vehicles for short distances, they would also design easily implemented adapter engines for existing cars, and more importantly they would be included in the designing and building of new transcontinental interstate transportation system, whether it be pneumatic tubes, conveyors, water sluices or whatever solutions are decided upon."

"This is such a monumental undertaking, overwhelming, but must be done and must be done now, as you have stressed. Water sluices? That intrigues me immensely."

"Elevated sluices is one design I have drawn to be used for transporting goods. The goods would float along in waterproof pods, again in a huge computerized network, moving on a cushion of water, or even air, at a fairly high speed. As for your magnet question, the magnets would be contained in a type of housing that does not allow harmful effects, but many experiments will be done before they are implemented. The computers of today, would make it possible for travelers to be inserted into the main artery of the huge transportation systems and to be ejected in the same way. It would eliminate bad accidents and minimize the need for insurance. The problem would be breakdowns in the huge systems and there would have to be many, many back up systems that would go into place for any type of breakdown.

When a definite system is worked out it would be set up and operate between two large cities for a five to ten year period as a test. All kinks could be worked out in advance."

"And what is this, my dear man? This doodle here?"

"Well, Sally, this is a design of what will be at the meeting tomorrow. It is a wave machine in miniature. It is two large pieces of a clear substance, I believe it is plastic, sandwiched together and in between them is water, and in the water is my design for the wave machine, anchored in sand in the bottom. The waves are generated and the machine begins its work. It even has a tiny cable that lights a bulb with its generated electricity. It is over a yard square."

"Perfect! I guess that does makes you a Yankee Dood...."

"Yes ma'am, a Yankee Doodle Dandy!"

"Gee whilikers, Franklin. I am awfully glad you suggested getting these suites at the Willard Hotel, and that the Franklin Pierce Bedroom was available for you."

"I can be a bit sentimental, as you know. I spent many hours here at the Willard when I was in office enjoying food, drink and conversing with my cronies. It has a familiarity I can't ignore."

Sally was intrigued by one of the gadgets supplied there at the Willard. She held in her hand the remote control supplied with the luxury suite. It controlled the electrical appliances and the lights. As the lights dimmed and went out at her bidding, the light of the moon traipsed into the room through the open drapes. The huge glowing cratered object seemed to smile down on them.

* * * * *

THE GIANT OBELISK

Sally and Franklin rode the elevator to the top of the Washington Monument. They had waited one hour for the privilege. When they had reached the top and listened to the guide's speech, Franklin strode about peering through the small windows. "So this is what it is like finished!"

He said in low tones as he grasped Sally's sleeve and pulled her to his vantage point. Sally tried to maintain her composure. Franklin was so funny scoping out the four bird's eye views of his old stomping grounds below. Of course he could see a bird's eye view at any time, as a soul, but for some reason being in the top of the Washington Monument was really doing it for him on this day.

Suddenly, Franklin's eyes shifted. He was distracted by two people behind him who had turned to the side and appeared to be involved in some sort of clandestine business meeting. Sally watched him intently as he observed them unnoticed.

"It will be four months at least, no sooner." One of the people, a woman, snapped angrily at the man. "But I have what you are looking for!" Franklin continued to watch them with all of the intensity his gray eyes could generate.

"Come on, Sally girl. Have you seen enough for this trip up?" Sally was concentrating on Franklin's strange facial expressions. He was clearly disturbed by the conversation of the man and woman that he had partially overheard. Sally followed Franklin to the elevator and they made their descent. She noticed Franklin checking the people at the base of the monument. He was trying to see where the two strangers went. "Stay here for a moment!"

He grabbed Sally by the shoulders and wheeled her around, setting her down on a visitor's bench. He then whirled about and was off!

* * * * *

— _A workable arrangement was in progress. Aine and Rich were going to make a grand tour of the USA in an RV. Rich had long yearned to do this thing, and they would be taking Franklin and Sally with them part of the way. Aine had many of her nanny friends to visit while in America, and most of them were on the west coast. They would make a side trip up the Al Can Highway and deliver Franklin and Sally to their needed seaport, there. Rich had wanted to take in parts of Alaska, anyway. They would pick up Franklin and Sally in Saint Louis and be on their way. There was something else Rich had on his agenda for this trip and it was to take part in a wagon train re-enactment. He did not think anything could top his communing with orangutans in Borneo, his last big adventure, but he wanted to try. Aine knew who Franklin really was, because she was Sally's confidant, but she was sworn to secrecy, that she would not give it away, not even to Rich, and especially not to Franklin, himself._

THE RIVER

The ferocious August sun was spewing blistering epithets down on the wagons, prairie schooners, and licking them with a rough tongue. Franklin's cowboy hat and Sally's sunbonnet shielded their eyes, but did not do much else. They could feel their faces and the backs of their hands burning. It was bad, alright, but because of the way they had lived their lives, they were not people suffering from air-conditioned sinuses or air conditioned anything else. They could hear the two people in the wagon behind them complaining.

The wagon master, Harlan Hayes, wanted to make the bend in the Niobrara River before noon. They had followed the north side of this river from northern central Nebraska for almost a month and the temperature had been much milder. The river had provided water for the livestock, and water for bathing, washing utensils and clothing. It was almost time for the wagon train to finally cross the river at its shallows, a well-known ford. The wagon train would then go on the south side of the river into Wyoming and that would be as far as it went. There it would disband and the people would get in their stored vehicles and move on.

Franklin nudged Sally on the arm and pointed into the distance. There was a small line of clouds on the horizon and these were the only clouds in the pure blue expanse of sky. The dry prairie grass reflected the sunlight effecting a snow blindness without benefit of snow. The landscape was still with little wind. The noises were the voices of the lethargic people in the long line of wagons, the occasional protestation of an ox, horse or cow, the clanking of hanging pots and pans, the creaking of the wooden wagons and the crunching of wooden wagon wheels on dry and rocky earth.

"The wagon master wants to get us over the river. It will be the most difficult thing we have done on the journey. The wagon wheels can get bogged down in the riverbed. That is why they are hitting the ford in August. The river should be down to its lowest at that time, just a few inches, not as deep." Franklin explained to Sally.

They heard a commotion behind them. Sally and Franklin turned to see the last wagon in the train picking up speed and it was pulling alongside them for conversation.

"We got bored." Aine called across in her perfect British.

"Rich, is the wagon train re-enactment all you hoped it would be?" Franklin chuckled as he asked the driver of the other wagon.

"All that and more." Again, British with a little Scottish brogue thrown in.

"It will get a little better when we cross over the river. At least we can soak our feet." Franklin added.

"I think I will get in the water, Aine, how about you?"

Sally wanted to know.

"I am up for it."

"Just think. In two more weeks, we will be in Alaska where the day temperatures are cool and the night temperatures are downright chilly."

•

"Ho up!" The wagon master's voice boomed across the plains. He had pulled his wagon to the side and the two chuck wagons had pulled in behind him. He had mounted his horse and was riding down the line of wagons giving instruction. There were about seventy wagons ahead of them.

"We have come to the ford. It is very shallow, but re-member, as I told you at supper last night, there are deep pools on either side of the shallow ford. We must cross straight through—control your animals. There is a drop-off on the right, a drop-off on the left. Do not go near either of these drop-offs. Your wagon will tip. We are going through quickly, one behind the other. When we have all gone across, we will take a break and swim, wash clothes, whatever we want. I will take my wagon across last, with the two chuck wagons, after everyone has gone through. If a wagon in front of you gets bogged or mired, be prepared. Some of us will need to wade out and apply muscles." Harlan continued to ride about, making his speech. "Oh, and when you have crossed, continue driving for a ways so there will be plenty of room for the next crossers on the other side."

The river was at least fifty feet wide. Franklin, Sally, Rich and Aine watched the line of wagons in front of them start crossing. Harlan Hayes often rode across on horseback, guiding them and doubling back for the next one.

"It's going pretty quickly, Franklin." Rich hollered ahead. "Much more quickly than I had supposed."

Franklin spoke softly to Sally. "That is what we have to keep an eye on." He pointed to the sky. The clouds that had been on the horizon had crept forward and were turning almost black. They glanced toward the wagon master, midstream, and he too was aware and attempting to speed the wagons. Sally turned back to see how Rich and Aine were doing. They were looking at the sky and mumbling as the wind began to pick up. It felt good on their baking skin.

"Keep a rein on your horses. We will have to push you out!" Harlan Hayes motioned to some men to leave their wagons and he dismounted his horse. A wagon wheel was stuck in the middle of the riverbed. Sally watched as Harlan and three other men struggled to lift the back of the wagon.

"Now! Ease up on your horses!"

Light flashed across the sky and there was a crack and a boom. Water began falling down from the sky in sheets. They could barely see in front of them, but they were able to make out the movement of the stuck wagon lurching forward and hear the cries of its occupants claiming victory over the misfortune.

As they were able to move their wagons forward they could see the form of Harlan Hayes on horseback again, trying to guide the drivers away from the rut in the riverbed and also trying to steer them away from the drop-offs. He urged them to hurry as the parched earth could take in no water and rain water was beginning to run off into the river.

When he finally got them through, it was time for Franklin and Sally to go. Franklin drove the wagon skillfully as rain came down in sheets and visibility was almost nil. As they neared the opposite edge of the river, Sally turned back repeatedly to check on the progress of Aine and Rich.

They kept driving on as instructed and watched as the chuck wagons joined the line to make their cross. Their progress was very slow. The river water was getting deeper and deeper. The drivers of the chuck wagons, Curly and Sam were skilled and seasoned, but they were having great difficulty.

Sally could not see because the rain was too dense. She was certain Harlan Hayes was making his cross and that he was either crossed or mid-river. Then it happened—a lightning bolt hit a tree nearby and there was a crack and a deafening boom that followed. It spooked the animals pulling the wagons, all around them.

"Easy! Ea...sy. Ea...sy, now." Franklin tried to hold his team. The horses reared and bucked. Sally heard the excited cries of other drivers, terror in their voices. She turned to check on Rich and Aine.

"They are good, Franklin. Our pals, our traveling companions are under control." Sally said loud enough for her voice to carry over the storm, the fearful cries and the noise of their own team of horses.

Sally turned back again to see Aine and Rich. They were gesturing wildly at Sally, pointing behind them.

They had stopped dead.

"Franklin, something is wrong, terribly wrong. Aine and Rich are pointing to a problem with the back wagons."

"The chuck wagons and the wagon master? Sally, try to hold these horses, sweet talk them." Franklin handed Sally the reins and was down from the wagon in a flash, running back toward the river. Sally watched as he confronted Rich and they gathered a coil of rope from Rich's wagon. Rich shouted at Sally.

"The river is up. The wagons are down in the river. Try to send more men, when you can."

Sally tried to drive the team forward and they lurched ahead. She was able to pull alongside the next wagon and asked the man to get more help and hurry to the river. She then turned her wagon around, not believing her accomplishment.

"Let's tie up our teams, Aine, and go find out how we can help," she shouted to her Brit friend.

They were able to angle their wagons and lash the reins to a tree. They ran blindly through the pouring rain. When they arrived they saw that Franklin was being whipped at the end of a rope that he had tied under his armpits. The rope was tied to a tree and Rich was hanging onto it from the bank, trying to stabilize it.

"Oh, Franklin!" Sally screamed. Aine grasped her by the arm as Sally tried to run into the water. The water had gotten very deep—almost as if a small dam had burst up- stream. The three covered wagons were tipped on their sides and had been carried to the deep water. There were no signs of the drivers.

Franklin made his treacherous way by rope from wagon to wagon, being whipped to and fro by the water. He looked inside each one. No driver. He shook his head for the benefit of the watchers on the shore. He felt around under the wagons with his feet and felt no one—only valuable supplies that they needed. He motioned to the others to pull him ashore. All three grabbed sections of the rope and pulled hard. Some others were coming to the shore from their wagons.

"We need four good, horses, quickly, with bridles." Two of the men ran back to the wagons and unhitched some willing equines. We need two good riders, to ride for help.

Follow the river at a safe distance—it will take you to a town, most certainly, or you will be able to sight a town or a settlement close by. Tell them that we have three men lost in the river and need help. It may be five miles or ten miles or more. Go quickly." Franklin had been recoiling the rope, while talking. "I need you to ride with me downriver. We must see if we can find these men." He pointed to Rob Tenney. The two men mounted the horses, bareback. They were fortunate to have bridles. As they headed off with the coil of rope, Sally, Aine and Rich walked off to give the news to the other people of the wagon train. They made their way from one to the next.

"The last three wagons did not make it." Rich explained. "We have sent riders to get help and two riders have gone with great haste to see if they can locate the drivers of the lost wagons downriver. If your things are under control and you are up to it, we need more searchers to walk the riverbanks looking for signs of the lost drivers or any supplies from the wagons we can salvage. If you are not able to assist, secure your wagon and remain calm."

Sally, Rich and Aine took more coils of rope and ran toward the raging river. Franklin and Rob Tenney combed the riverbanks with their eyes. They searched riverside limbs d branches and trees for any signs. "There!" Rob Tenney was pointing to mid-river. They had gone at least two miles downstream. Franklin gazed upon the limp body of Harlan Hayes, snagged on a huge, fallen tree limb.

"His head is still above water. There is a chance he is alive. I shall hook myself to a rope again and go out and get him. I will need you to pull us ashore." Rob Tenney began securing his end of the rope to another tree.

"He is still alive!" Franklin yelled as he signaled to Rob to pull him in. The two men bent over Harlan to examine his injuries. They heard strange gurgling noises coming from his mouth and nose. "Looks like a fractured leg." Franklin said to Rob.

"And pneumonia is on its way, for sure, and a possible head injury." Rob added.

"We must make a travois to transport him." They were cold, but took off their shirts. By buttoning them back up and threading two long, strong branches through the sleeves, they were able to make a crude sled. They carefully put Harlan on it. Franklin attached rope around his own waist, Rob attached the loose ends to the travois, as Franklin mounted his horse. They headed back toward the others, while keeping a watchful eye for the other two lost men.

* * * * *

A GOOD NURSE

"Yes, he has a compound fracture of his left leg, double pneumonia and a probable head injury—and of course he is in shock." Aine Fitzgerald was getting to use some of her old ER skills. Franklin had made a plea for any doctors, nurses, or other medical personnel to come forward. There had been only one other nurse, a practical nurse, and she was making another wagon ready in case they located the other missing men.

"Ohhhhhhh..." Harlan Hayes was coming to and feeling the pain. Sally and Aine were by his side in a wagon they had readied for him.

"I blatantly took charge of this emergency situation as we were closest to the dreadful accident, and I have experience in such matters. If at any time there is opposition to me, we will vote on another leader. No one believes in democracy more than myself—of that, I assure you. As of present our official leaders are unable to do what they were intended to do, and for that I am deeply sorrowed." Franklin was making a speech to some of the people who had gathered around.

"I immediately sent two of our best riders on horseback to get aid. Badly needed supplies have been lost in the wagons. I have no doubt that the riders will reach their destination but we do not know what delays they may be having because of the weather or other unforeseen hindrances. We will all be fine, of that I want to assure you.

My main concern is getting this one and possibly three men immediate medical treatment. They will be cared for in the wagons until help arrives. Whoever wants to form search parties for the two missing men should go now, and do not get lost yourselves to do it." The people listening to Franklin's speech were quite impressed. He _did_ have a gift in that department.

"Tonight we should have a group dinner. I would suggest cornbread, cooked dry beans if you can scrounge up the ingredients amongst yourselves. Those of you who want to get together and plan a meal, combining what good supplies you can scrape up should do so. You will have to cook under your wagons because of the pouring rain. Make small fires that will not endanger the wagon wood." A group of cooks began to gather together.

"All of the firearms went over in the wagon master's wagon, where he kept them under lock and key. We need some men to try to get some fish or game by whatever means you can. If we are successful, the corn bread can be saved for breakfast. If not, we will have it to eat, tonight. You will have to make your own hunting and fishing equipment, and fishing will be difficult because of the turbulent water.

We need to conserve our good water, but we will need to use a little for cooking, coffee and medical treatment of the injured. Try to work together in the spirit of cooperation.

Does anyone have any questions or complaints?"

The stone-faced people divided into groups. Most of the stone-faced people were descendants of the pioneers who had carved out this country and there would not be a problem in accomplishing the tasks at hand. The only problems would come from the clashing of strong personalities or egos. The question was—would they put those aside for the seriousness of the circumstances?

Then Franklin added, "I would appreciate some strong coffee and I know you all would." He then set off to try to find some game, carrying a small length of rope. As he neared the river, he noticed two men struggling across the raging river with ropes attached. A man standing nearby informed him.

"They are going to search the riverbank from the opposite side." Franklin nodded.

"There is a possibility they were trapped under the wagons, but we hope that is not the case. I feel they were injured and washed downstream. I will try to be back fairly quickly and help with the search. As Franklin walked along toward a dense thicket he whittled on a stick.

_A bow._ He took a small piece of rope. _I will have to splay out these fibers and pull them apart to make a string for the bow._ He found a hiding place in the thicket and he waited. He knew the thunder and lightening would have frightened the animals and they would be in their hiding places. The noise and pyrotechnics had died down. The animals may be coming out again soon.

As he waited, he whittled and notched a bow out of a piece of willow. He notched and sharpened ten arrows. He did not have feathers to attach to the arrows, but these would do. He attached his string to the bow. He heard excited shouting in the distance. _They have found another of the lost men. The best I could hope for would be a deer._

_There would be some waste..._ He then heard a crunching and crackling sound on the thicket floor. He slowly stood up. _It is out of range, I must wait to see if it comes closer._ He watched motionless as the deer nibbled its way closer, inch by inch. Franklin was startled by another noise, closer, grunting and close to the ground. _A javalina!_ Franklin readied his bow and pulled. He released. The shot, aimed at the wiggling, rooting animals head, missed its mark and pierced a foreleg. The deer bolted and ran back into cover. Franklin aimed and shot again, this time hitting the head. He took out his knife and dressed the animal on the spot. He lashed the two hind legs together and made a handle for carrying. He was tired by now, and would resort to pulling it behind him for part of the distance. _I must hurry now and find out if they have found another man._

Franklin arrived at the wagon train camp and handed the wild pig over to the cooks. "It will need washing and skinning and I would roast it on a spit." The ecstatic cooks embraced the task of javalina preparation. "Did they find any more of the men?" Franklin wanted to know.

"Yes!" Rich ran forward to relay the news. "They were both alive, close to one another, clinging to brush quite a distance down river. They took in water and are in shock. Nurse Aine made them go to sick bay. They protested, but she can be fierce."

"Don't I know it! Sally has warned me."

"Look!" A group of men were walking forward with a holey bed sheet filled with fish.

"We made our own net by cutting small holes in a bed sheet—against the law, no doubt, but I don't think they will arrest us!"

"That's okay," Franklin replied "I didn't have a javalina permit, either. The best we can do is eat all of the evidence before any officials get here. Let's go get some coffee, fellows."

•

"Our Heavenly Father, bless this food and the cooks who prepared it. Our deep gratitude to You for providing it for us. We ask you for the speedy recovery of our leaders and offer our deep gratitude for their spared lives. Amen."

Franklin had the need to offer up this prayer. He was not aware of political correctness in current times, nor did he know that so many Americans were not Christians. Not one person objected.

"Amen!"

"Amen!"

"Amen!"

Amen cries filled the campsite, competing with the clinking of the silverware and the clanging of pots and pans.

"This is the best meal I have ever eaten!" Rich exclaimed. "And I have eaten in Paris, Rome, Vienna, Moscow and even Borneo."

"Did you see the apple in the roasted pig's mouth? Where did they get that?"

"Lady had an apple stash in her wagon. She also had a potato stash and we are eating them now." Rich added.

"What's that?" Franklin heard a strange noise and it seemed to be coming from the sky. The people wolfing down food in the camp looked up to see two medical helicopters approaching.

Sally looked at Franklin. She could not contain her giggles. He was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Helicopters."

"That would be from the Greek Helios, no, more probably helix, I assume." Franklin laughed back at her.

"This will be the fastest way to get our injured out, Franklin. Our boys got through!"

"Our boys got through!" Many of the campers chimed in unison.

"Aine thinks Curly will get to come right back after observation and lead the wagon train into Wyoming.

Aine added, "Harlan Hayes, well that's another story. He will probably make it but will be laid up for months. Pardon me while I go fill in the EMTs."

Harlan gave a thumbs up sign as he was being loaded into the chopper. The people cheered loudly and waved. When Aine returned to the group, she filled them in on some details. "Curly and Sam will be coming back by car sometime tomorrow. They said we should camp here for a couple of days and see if the water goes down some more. We will try to pull the wagons out with a team of oxen and upright them. Also, maybe we can recover some supplies. The trip to our Wyoming destination will take three or four days and they will bring enough supplies with them for the end of our journey."

"Now Aine, would you sit down and finish eating?" Please!" Sally was not normally so bossy.

* * * * *

PART III  
BEYOND THE YELLOW SEA

* * * * *

DRAGONS' BONES

The imaginary fortieth degree latitudinal line on our earthly globe crosses on or very nearly to Ankara, Turkey, Toledo, Spain, lightly skimming the top of the Azores, it then moves on to Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, Hannibal, St. Jo, Denver, Provo, Reno and after it crosses the Pacific Ocean, it winds up in the neighborhood of Akita, Japan. If you do not stop there but continue on, you come to Beijing, China. In the Twentieth Century alone, this ancient city has been known to westerners by three names: Peking, Peiping, and now Beijing, the Forbidden City.

Franklin was in search of and in need of a big exciting adventure to share with Sally—an adventure that would knock her socks off and also accomplish some good in the world. He knew of her unsolved mysteries fascination and quite by accident he had gathered some additional information while they were in Washington. He was able to find passage to Asia on a boat that was taking aid, relief and medical supplies to orphanages. It was sponsored by the United States government, but independent charities that had been cleared were able to transport, supplement and contribute. It was a small, refurbished WWII vessel christened, The Good Ship LOLI-Port.

LOLI was an acronym that stood for Love of Life International. It had a good record of freedom from harassment by foreign governments. They would be leaving from one of the from a pier near Nome, Alaska.

Sally was filled with excitement, but also a fair share of trepidation. She liked staying close to home, with both feet planted firmly on the ground. She did not want to have to board her pets again. She realized, however, that this was what she was meant to do and this was an experience she was meant to have. She and Franklin would help out on the voyage by assembling and packaging individual meals, hygiene kits and first aid items from the vast stores of supplies in the hold. They would also be rolling leprosy bandages under sterile conditions. They might help distribute the items to the orphanages or depots when they arrived.

The boat would stay off the coast of China for a month and a half before returning, and during that time, they could make journeys inland. It would be tricky. Franklin had gotten the advice and help of ambassadors, diplomats, and even scientists.

It was explained to all involved that Franklin and Sally were philanthropists, and they were interested in observing different things up close, that they might wish to offer 'their millions' for. They wished to observe while blending in with the background.

•

_This is it!_ Sally felt all jittery with anticipation. The boat was facing-off the Shantung Peninsula in the Yellow Sea and it crossed over to the Gulf of Chihle. It would dock here for two weeks while supplies would be unloaded and dispersed. The protocol was intense, as there were always people ready to seize the items and sell them on the black market. The sights and the smells of the harbor were overpowering. She glanced at Franklin, he too was taking it all in—the smells of fish and shrimp, a touch of gasoline to the quaff. Steam rising off kettles of food frying rose up over a backdrop of junks and sampans. Colorful but often shabby fabrics lined the harbor as boat sails, tarps, awnings and dry goods. Voices from the docks that sounded like senseless chattering, but was of course, not. Deals were being made, prices arrived at. The musical quality of the din was intoxicating.

"This is going to be quite a trip, my dear girl—the trip of several lifetimes!"

•

A man was standing close by to them on the deck of their small ship. He did not want to break their mood, but was getting impatient. Franklin turned to him. "I don't want to rush you, but we are ready when you are. The goods cannot be unloaded for several days—red tape. You should be free for awhile."

Franklin had learned that the best way to get to his desired destination of Zhoukoudian, would be to take a small boat up the River. The journey over land would be a few meager miles after that. This isolated area was located in some small mountains fifty or so miles southeast of Beijing.

Within an hour Franklin, Sally, two anthropologists and a geologist from Dartmouth, University were in a Vietnam War Era Swift Boat, feeling the spray on their faces. Their guide, Shiu Lee Fon knew how to avoid pesky Chinese government officials and how to navigate two rivers to get them along on their seventy-five mile journey.

"We have not been here in over a year." David Charles, the geologist tried to talk over the engine noise to Franklin and Sally. "There was a time they wanted us out, so we left. It killed us, but we left. They advised us to leave because of political skirmishes."

"It was a great disappointment," an anthropologist added, "as things were just heating up in our areas—starting to get very interesting." Franklin nodded in understanding.

"This is as far as the river will take us. We must travel the rest of the distance by land. We will be going basically the same direction as that small stream." David pointed. "The Baerhi."

Franklin examined the map the scientists were holding.

"What are the types of labor the people here can do for their livelihoods?" Franklin asked the men.

"Well, there is always farming: oats, millet, cotton, corn, soybeans. Some travel back and forth to the Gulf as shrimpers and fishermen. There are mines and quarries. The area is iron rich and calcium rich."

"There are many limestone quarries in or near Zhoukoudian. This has supplied a livelihood for many for generations," Finley added. "It is Ordovician limestone, by the way—lime for the economy of the local inhabitants."

Sally locked eyes with Franklin. Franklin smiled at her. She did not know the purpose of their adventure. He was very secretive about it—he wanted it to be a surprise. She did remember her college geology and oceanography, however. The Ordovician geological period lasted approximately seventy-five million years. It was in the Paleozoic Era between Silurian and Cambrian Periods. It existed about 425 to 500 million years ago. There were no interesting life forms to study from that period.

Finley continued as if reading her mind. "The sites we have been finding interesting, as will you, are sedimentary strata of the Pliocene and Pleistocene."

Their guide and boat pilot had called for a car on his radio. It had arrived and would take the passengers of the boat to Zhoukoudian, along with their small amount of baggage.

"We will be staying in some dormitories provided by a Beijing university. It is similar to an exchange. Dartmouth will be supplying the same for five of their people. They are studying North American Fossils such as giant bears, mammoths and pterodactyls." David added.

•

Over a light lunch the five Americans agreed to meet after a nap and settling in period. "Frank, we will take you and Sally on a tour of where we last able to work and introduce you to some of our fellows. Then we will be eager to get started, tomorrow, you understand. We have been gone over a year and we never know what interference the weather will be causing and for how long. If you want to take side trips while we are working, that is what I advise. Shiu Lee Fon has always been an excellent guide and can be trusted. We will be at your disposal again on any days of bad weather. Fair enough?" Finley asked the couple.

"Perfect! You must have seen the inside of my head with your chisels and mallets poised. A side trip is exactly what I did have in mind." Franklin answered back as he smiled at Sally. Sally was thoroughly confused to Franklin's delight.

•

Franklin and Sally squatted down to view the excavation close-up. They stayed away from any objects or equipment. There were square areas staked out with string, and anthropologists and paleontologists were sifting the earth with large wood-framed sieves. The just-sifted earth was then re-sifted in smaller sieves. When something, anything was found, a small numbered flag was placed at the spot of discovery.

"What have you gotten today, Lloyd? Mind if I ask?"

Franklin and Sally leaned forward with rapt attention when Charles posed his question.

"We have found three hominid teeth, charred bones of small mammals, a finger bone, pierced beads of different materials and a piece of a hand ax. The recently arrived scientists raised their eyebrows in unison. "Can't wait to get right on it, can you fellows?" Lloyd teased.

•

Franklin and Sally spent the day going to each dig site the three Americans had worked on. They went into five caves, having to crawl on their bellies through an entrance to one of them. According to the scientists, there were even greater prizes to be had inside these caves.

At the end of the day, the setting sun produced a fantastic light show on the expanses of exposed limestone. The group of Americans sat on makeshift stone seats arranged in a circle and drank strong black coffee from a huge thermos. "How were these things first discovered?" Sally asked. She hated to sound ignorant, but it was a question any prospective philanthropist could get away with asking.

The scientists smiled and chuckled in unison.

"Way back in 1918, a Swedish scientist serving as an advisor here on mineral affairs was curious about an area the locals called Chicken-Bone Hill. They had been digging up chicken bones there for years. He examined them. As an accomplished geologist and archaeologist, he was readily able to determine that the bones were actually rodent fossils." Finley started the explanation.

Charles continued. "In 1921, another scientist this one, Austrian was in the area. Curious about the fossils he was told by the locals of another site, not far away. This one was called Dragon Bone Hill. In fact, the locals had been digging up the dragon bones for years, grinding them up and selling them at a high premium as medicines and aphrodisiacs. This paleontologist began digging in the area and found more fossils, quartz and human-like teeth."

"And over time, many, many bones, skull caps, teeth, jawbones were unearthed along with tools, adornments, evidence of fire usage." Finley interjected. "When a skull was re-assembled from parts, well the creature was low-browed and monkey like in appearance. His arms were longish. Was it a man or a monkey? When a whole skeleton was completed, it was determined to be an upright-walking, fire-taming, tool-making, adornment-wearing hominid."

"A monkey man?" Franklin laughed.

"It is the closest thing we have ever found to a missing link between ape and man. More man than ape, yet still quite ape-like in appearance."

"Where does this creature stand on the DNA scale?" Sally wanted to know.

All of the scientists stared at her and Franklin was clearly impressed, his mouth was starting to hang open.

"Ah, I see where you are going, Sally. That would be the answer, then would it not?" Charles continued. If modern man has a certain genetic code and modern ape has a similar and only slightly different one, if the creature we are discussing now falls somewhere in between on that scale, why that would prove it. Sad to say they have not been able to extrapolate the DNA from these fossils yet, but that is foremost in their research goals."

Finley added, "They have found many of these relics and artifacts since 1950 in this area, but they have never found anything to compare with what they already had collected up until that time and I suppose you know the sad story of what happened to those bones, don't you?"

An expression of sorrow came over Franklin's face. "Yes, I am afraid I do. I am afraid I do."

* * * * *

— _Just as I thought!_ Franklin mused as he peered through the little chicken-wire reinforced window in the door. _As much as I hate to use technology, I may be forced to use some this one time._

DARWIN

"Shhhhhhhhh! Follow closely behind me, very quietly." Franklin eased himself down the darkened hallway. He had gotten them into the building by gliding through a wall and unlocking a door from the inside. He then let Sally in.

"Why are we even here, Franklin?" Sally whispered.

Franklin motioned her around the corner where they could observe two men in the laboratory meticulously examining what appeared to be bone fragments arranged on a stainless steel table. One of the Chinese men picked up a small bone with a hemostat and handed it to the other man. He smiled, then picked up a magnifying glass to get a better view. Both men smiled again and nodded their heads.

Franklin grasped Sally's nearest hand and pulled her around the corner to the very darkest area of the laboratory wing. He again signaled to her to be very quiet. "I had to show you this and that is why I brought you there. Do you know what that is, Sally girl?"

"I have no idea. I assume it is something anthropological. Something only China has, maybe real dragon's bones." Sally laughed. "Am I right? I want it to be dragon's bones, Franklin."

"Ah, you would like these better, my dear, most assuredly."

"Okay, tell me. What _are_ they?"

"Have you ever heard of Peking Man? Knowing you, I am sure of it. It would not surprise me if you had not made a study of the ol' boy. Darwin is a good name for him. Don't you agree?"

"Oh Franklin, that is Peking Man? The actual bones that mysteriously disappeared so long ago? You will have to contain me! I have got to see it, up close and personal. It is a mystery that has always worried me to death."

"I knew you would love to see it, that you would not soon forgive me if I did not show it to you."

"Not soon forgive you? Not in this century—or the next! How can we get a better look at it Franklin?"

"We will have to come back when they are gone. The security here is extreme. I may have to resort to chicanery."

"Whatever we have to do. I have got to see it. I thought it had fallen into oblivion, never to be seen by human eyes again. I wonder how it ended up here. I know the Peking Man was made up of several different people. Is this the same group of bones that disappeared? So many questions I have. What is your plan, Franklin?"

"Well, I do have one as you will see."

"Wait a minute. One of the men...one of those scientists. He was the guy up in the top of the Washington Monument. The one you were watching. He was talking to that woman. I am starting to understand now. That is why you parked me on the bench and followed him. You were gathering as much information as you could." Franklin nodded with a smile.

"Come along, Sally. We will leave for now, I have one piece of equipment we need for our next visit inside these walls. We shall need buy one."

•

The laboratory loomed ahead of them in the small clearing. It was cloistered in the walls made by two small mountain ranges conjoining. It was four stories tall and the sign outside the building, although written in Chinese did not say "Laboratory." It said nothing like it. It said instead "Duck, Sing, Eat, Ox." In other words, it was gibberish. Gibberish that would in no way divulge the purpose of the building. It was a hundred and eighty three miles southwest of the Zhoukoudian limestone. Franklin could not talk Shiu Lee Fon into taking them any closer to the lab. He was afraid of it and had heard many rumors. They had worked out a system where he would take them to within five miles of it by automobile and they could walk the rest of the way. They decided to go early in the morning before the sun was up. They could do the walking part with semi-darkness, could see the headlights of cars and hide if necessary. He would pick them up at the same place shortly after dusk. If any of them ran into trouble they would keep trying to meet at the spot until successful.

"Don't worry, Sally. I do not wish to resort to other-worldy tricks, and will avoid them—but if we ever get into dire straits, I will of course, use them. Our adventure would not be one, if we did not live the adventure as mortals, c'n'est pas?"

"I had no idea you knew any French, Franklin."

"Well now, of course you do. It is in my biography. I took lessons while in Europe with Jane, shortly before she died."

"Yes. You are right. I have too much on my mind to think straight, I suppose." Franklin patted her on the head.

They sat on the ground behind some bushes, with clear view of the entrance to the laboratory. It seemed to be vacant. There were no cars, anywhere.

"I don't believe it is a laboratory per se, Sally. From what I can gather, scientists can lease space here to work on their projects—as long as the projects are not "explosive in nature." No questions are asked. They come in when they wish and leave when they wish. Some of them have nine to five jobs elsewhere. They must make sure their own areas are secure and locked to their satisfaction. There are frightening rumors about the place, and that is a deterrent to break-ins. Also, they are allowed to use whatever kind of security they wish, even if it is dangerous."

Sally's knees were bent over a sort of gopher hole on the ground. There were two, side by side. She looked down into one of the holes, and started to scream. A dark cylindrical object was undulating through the hole. She grasped Franklin's arm and pointed. They were both watching as the pointed tail disappeared."

"Snake! Deadly poisonous...better move down a ways." As they moved down farther from the building, they noticed some headlights on the road. Franklin took Sally by the hand and they quickly ran back behind the building. The car stopped and the lights went out. It was a kitchen worker from the ground floor. She brought out some trash to a dumpster and went back in. Franklin stepped up to the service entrance and tried the door. It was open. He looked through the window and saw the woman going through the refrigerator, pulling items from it. "I am going in, Sally. I will signal to you when to follow. If someone comes, get out of sight 'til I return."

When the worker went into the basement, Franklin signaled to Sally and they made their way to the stairwell and on to the fourth floor.

"Did you bring that little camera, and that disposable telephone thing?" Franklin asked. Sally unzipped her small fanny pack and pulled out the camera. "You can probably get better shots that I, Sally girl. Snap away while I stand guard." Sally looked around for something tall to stand on.

"Help!" Sally whispered loudly. The only thing that was tall enough was a swivel stool and her perch would be precarious indeed. Franklin boosted her up, then she kept one arm on Franklin's shoulder while shooting down at the bones where they were displayed. When she used up the memory in the camera, she got some images on the cell phone. She relied on Franklin's shoulder for support. He turned frequently to check the door.

Suddenly Sally began losing her footing. The stool began swiveling under her feet. Glass containers on the counters began tinkling and clashing into each other. The bones spread out on the stainless steel gurney seemed to jump eerily on their surface. She tried to tighten her grip on Franklin's shoulder—then everything went black.

* * * * *

IT MOVED, THE EARTH MOVED

"Sally, Sally, wake up!" Sally was sure her eyes were open but she could not see anything. She felt a cool cloth on her face, gentle fingertips along her jaw line, and then, . "Sally my dear girl, we must hurry."

"Ummmmmmm. Franklin, what is happening? Why can't I see you? My eyes are on fire. Where is the camera I was holding, the cell phone?"

"Oh why could I not see this coming? It should have been clear to me even then! I know you cannot follow me, because you cannot see, but we must crawl over to the door jamb we entered through. I will place your hand on my jacket tail and you must crawl with me. We are underneath the stainless steel table that holds the bone fragments and I must try to push it to a spot beneath the doorjamb where we will have better protection. While we are crawling, we must search about with our fingers for the phone. I have managed to get the camera back into your pack while you were out." The earth continued to rumble threateningly.

Franklin grasped the table legs with his hands and began rolling the table to the doorjamb. Sally clung to the tail of his jacket with her left hand while patting the debris covered floor for the cell phone. She was still blind. "I've got it! The cell phone."

"Good girl." Franklin stopped to put the cell phone into Sally's pack. "We are almost there." He placed her left hand on his coattail again. The gurney banged smack into the door. Franklin left the safety of the table to fling open the door to the laboratory room. He rolled the table mid-way beneath the doorjamb. He then crawled back under the gurney and sat down. " He pulled Sally across his lap and cradled her in his arms. "Earthquake. There may be a sizable aftershock." He pried open each of Sally's eyelids, one at a time and the eyelids were not cooperating.

"There is a lot of dust and debris in your eyes. The ceiling has fallen in in a lot of places and the lights are gone. Can you see me at all?" Franklin had gotten a tissue from Sally's pocket and was gently cleaning the corners of her eyes."

"What are we going to do, Franklin?"

"Shhhhhhh! Sally can you see me at all, even in the darkness?"

"Yes, yes, I can see you. My eyes will water and burn for a long time, but they will be okay. My contacts may be lost or ruined. I must try to get them out and store them." Sally rolled on her side and tried to remove her contacts. It was very difficult as the earth was still shaking. She laid out a handkerchief to use as a cushion if they fell. When they were finally out safely, she knotted them in the handkerchief and put it in the fanny pack. Then she tried to clean her eyes further. "There, that's much better."

Franklin grasped Sally's head in his hands and stroked her chin with his thumbs. He looked at her, dust and debris in her hair, her eyes tearing, "Oh Sally, I. ." He pressed his lips firmly to her mouth and pulled her closer to him.

Sally was swimming in tactile comfort but she could not control herself and uttered, "Oh my gosh, here we are getting ready to make love on a bed of debris, beneath the bones of a monkey-like missing link..." Franklin stifled a snort. Sally could detect his spasms of laughter.

"I would not have taken it _that_ far, Sally. This is an, an..."

"An appetizer?"

"Yes, that is exactly what this is. An appetizer. An hors d'oeuvre if you will."

I must check to see what the best course of action will be. I am still waiting for the big aftershock."

"Don't leave me, Franklin."

"I must. We will need to leave this building and go back to the Zhoukoudian area." Franklin put his hand to Sally's mouth. "What's that. I hear voices."

As they listened in the darkness under the table, they could hear the voices of two men. They sounded to be in states of high agitation. Of course Sally or Franklin could not understand their words as they were speaking Chinese at a very high rate of speed. The earth began more violent trembling. Franklin began looking about frantically.

"What is it Franklin. What are you looking for?" The voices were getting much closer, now.

"When I tell you to run, run across the hall and position yourself inside the doorjamb of the farthest door and stay beneath it!" Sally nodded in understanding.

Franklin's eyes finally settled on a large cabinet door. He swiftly removed the hinge pins and jerked the door off its hinges. He carried it to the gurney and placed it on top of the bones. "Run now!" he yelled at Sally. She began running and he was right behind her. He enfolded her in his arms right as the big jolt hit. The building rocked and shook. Debris fell down from the ceiling. Franklin and Sally heard the excited voices of the Chinese men, then screams as more debris fell. Then, their voices were heard no more. Beams, bricks and debris fell down on the lab room they had just been in, completely burying it and the Peking Man. Then, that side of the building began collapsing into the floors below. Debris continued to rain down. The dust was making them cough violently.

"We must get out of the building, Sally. When the tremors are over, we will go."

* * * * *

— _The good ship LOLI-Port left the port of Tientsin on an overcast morning. Franklin and Sally were helping inventory and reorganize the supplies. They came up on deck every hour or so to look around and get some fresh air. They were on deck as it left the Gulf of Chihli and rounded the point near Weihi. The boat would be going on toward Canton in open water but loosely hugging the coastline. It would dock once in Shanghai where supplies would be unloaded by hook and no one would disembark. The ship alternated its routes every six months and on the next trip would make hook drops at Tientsin and Canton, while docking at Shanghai and Taipei. The trip to Canton was about five days, allowing for the solid day of red tape connected with the Shanghai drop._

CANTON

"Land ho." Franklin took Sally by the shoulders and spun her westward.

"Where?" Sally squinted but could not really see much of anything. It was the flat blue-green horizon of the sea. Franklin got behind her and tried to line up her vision.

"Where? I don't see anything."

Franklin tugged at a loose wisp of her hair. "You will. Keep watching."

"You are pretty darn good at this, Franklin. When you took the voyage to Vera Cruz on the Kepler, did you have to do any sailing?"

"Not as an official mate. We all had jobs to do. If the Kepler had taken a full crew, there would not have been room enough on board for our men and military supplies. We traveled much as we are now. Parallel to the coastline."

"I think I see something. A little bump on the horizon."

"That is it, dear, and strange adventures await us there." Sally turned so Franklin could not miss her raised eyebrows.

As the ship gained distance, and the bump doubled in size, Sally could see the outline of a large vessel heading for the port. "Must be a busy place."

"Yes, it is. Canton is the busy place, but it is eighty miles inland. You have to go to a smaller port, then travel up the Pearl River as far as you can. There is a closer port city, farther up river, Whampoa, but the river is not wide enough for our ship to navigate that far. Or deep enough. There are also many bridges over it that would not give enough clearance. There are spots where the inlets and rivers are clogged with houseboats that people live on. It is the only home they have ever had."

"How do you know all of this, Franklin? I am figuring it is an inherent part of soul knowledge."

"Why no. I have senses about things that mortals do not have, perceptions. Or, I can have experienced something in my mortal life or in a past life—but the rest of it is research, my dear. I have to reconnoiter. When I left you, Sally, that was what I was doing. Reconnoitering. Of course I did not go by boat or aeroplane. I did use some of my soul benefits to get here. I had to lay all of the groundwork, you see. Going to a country such as this is very complicated. It required the help of my friends in the U. S. government foremost, but there were all the details that I needed to take care of myself. We will be diverting from our government-issue travel package. Extremely complicated. You will understand in a few days."

"Why couldn't you just tell me that when you left? My heart was so broken."

"I know Sally. And I promise it will never happen again. I will not leave you. I did not think I would need to go that soon, that I would have longer to make plans. It started out as an adventure for us but was turning into something more. It became an emergency. I only had a couple of days for action. Souls were in peril and I knew you would want me to do what I did. I had faith that you would trust, understand and forgive me. Well, you will see."

Sally was becoming able to realize something about Franklin. He was not afraid to show his affection for her. He did not think it unmanly. He was secure. It was natural, his genuine feeling for her and he was no longer going to cork it off. Sally was not one to like gratuitous slobbering over one another by couples in public places. Franklin, however, was sincere, courtly, respectful. It was something he needed to express and in no way vulgar. She felt highly loved and regarded by his person, apart from the magnetism.

"Sally?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"When we get to Canton, we will go to an outlying district where we have a specific job to do. After letting you have a personal look at the Peking Man, I had no reason to go ashore in Canton except for the pleasure of our sight-seeing. It is a sight to behold, not something you would want to miss, especially as a writer. But it was brought to my attention that we would have the means and opportunity..."

"And I suppose I will soon figure all this out."

"Yes, you will, and our side trip will touch and impress you deeply." He twirled her around one time. She was irritated at the mystery of it all, but could not help breaking out in a wide grin.

•

"Here, Sally. We will go up the Pearl on one of these." Franklin pointed to four launches pulling alongside the ship. The medical staff and support staff were readying themselves to board. We will go with them up the river, almost to Canton. They will unload several tons of supplies. The medical people will provide exams and treatments, even vitamin therapy. Some have had an all-rice diet for their entire lives. They need help with nutritional supplies, and managing active dental infections.

"There are so many people needing help. How can they all be reached?"

"They can't. They have waiting lists and have been screened according to the severity of their needs. They will run them though for four days. They will then keep treating until they run out of supplies. They keep a small reserve on board for the ship. The country of China does not want to admit that they need any outside help. They have been resistant. If they ever become more receptive, more ships will be outfitted and employed. The LOLI-Port goes to other countries, sometimes, such as India and Africa. They are very receptive—a goal has been to make China more receptive to help. We will help them get set up today, then our time will be our own, until they leave port, again."

•

Sally's eyes widened as they entered the mouth of the Pearl. The houseboats lining the banks were made of scrap material, old metal road and street signs, corrugated tin barn roofing, weathered gray wood and splintering bamboo. They contained people bustling about inside, preparing food, straightening bedding. Musical sing-songy commands were being given by older family members to younger ones. She saw a young boy trying to pull a heavy stringer of fish up over the side. An old woman barked orders at him. An old man wielding a knife held up a stringer of baby squid to make a selection for the day. On the outer edges of the boats were bamboo rafts with small fishing crews on them. They seemed to be doing maintenance on nets. Some of the better houseboats had pagoda roofs.

"What kind of fish are found in the South China Sea?" Franklin asked a crew member of the LOLI-Port.

"Oh there is everything—and they will eat anything that comes from the sea. Mackerel and Herring are their main commercial crops," the man replied.

When they were on dry land, the people from the launches went to a large gymnasium-type building in large vans while supplies were loaded onto trucks and transported. There Franklin and Sally put on gloves and draped waiting tables with sterile cloths, while nurses came along behind and set up the medical supplies. Then Franklin and Sally were given printed cards to hand out to the people lined up outside. They were instructions written in three separate Chinese dialects. When they handed out the cards to the smiling, nodding people, the people read them and began to form three distinct lines, depending on the type of treatment they thought they were there for.

When Franklin and Sally were finished with all of their chores, Sally looked at him with worry playing across her face.

"I don't know, Franklin. Do you think we should eat any of the food around here? Maybe we should buy some candy bars or crackers."

"Let's go to an American restaurant, okay? A chain, until we get our bearings." Afraid to get any beef, they walked to a Kentucky Fried Chicken where they got and entire bucket to split between themselves. The salty air and activity had left them famished.

"Sally, I wanted you to have a full stomach, because I am now going to take you to a place that may make you a bit squeamish." Franklin hailed a gin rickshaw, a two-seater and gave the operator a printed page with a photo. He pointed to the photo and the Chinaman smiled and said, "yeah, yeah." They climbed in.

"Oh Franklin, this is so much fun—but I feel very guilty, being pulled by a team of human beings in a yoke."

"Hang on girl. It is an honest form of employment here and I will pay them handsomely."

As they rode along on crowded streets, Sally's head flipped around at the sights: street urchins trying to make a sale, handicapped people and amputees with homemade conveyances constructed with junk, using their hands as paddles, many others who seemed to be surviving well in life with western business suits and ties, very many people in glistening pajamas with bamboo coolie hats shading their eyes. She was interrupted from her observations by a blitz of strange odors. She glanced at Franklin. The rickshaw stopped abruptly and the operators lowered the front to the ground, tilting it forward. A musical speech followed, with pointing. As Franklin and Sally got out, Franklin peeled off some bills and handed them to the operator. The man smiled and chattered at them as he handed a share to his eager helper.

Franklin grasped Sally's elbow and marched her toward the smells. She looked at him with an expression of sheer puzzlement. They seemed headed toward rows and rows of canvas and wooden awnings. As they rounded a corner, she was instantly aware of why Franklin was behaving so peculiarly.

Still bleeding hogs' heads were hanging on hooks, some of their eyes open and staring some were closed, displaying tiny coarse bristly eyelashes. Sally gasped, then covered her mouth. Some of the hogs were domestic and some wild, with tusks and brown fur. Flies buzzed about in clouds, it seemed. The next booth was more benign, all fish, very large, dead, on dirty ice.

"Oh the smell, Franklin!" Sally gagged as Franklin patted her on the shoulder.

"I know, Sally, but you would not want to come to Canton and not see this."

The next booth, Sally could just not take. She averted her eyes, repeatedly. It was snakes of all kinds. Snakes pickled in jars, snakes alive and slithering in rickety wire cages, even cardboard boxes. There were tiny snakes, huge snakes, snakes hanging up being filleted. When the proprietor saw them, he reached into a cage and drew out a six foot long snake and held it up for them to inspect. His huge grin exposed bare gums, except for one front upper, protruding. 'Fang Man' Sally called him.

They passed another tent of fish—these fish were smaller than the ones in the other tent. At the far end were dead squids and octopi on ice—then there were tanks with living sea creatures trying to swim but unable to because of crowding. There were bulging barrels of sea anemones, sea cucumbers and starfish.

"What are those, Franklin?" Sally noticed fish with strange fins.

"Scabbard fish, I think they are called."

Another tent nearby was filled with sharks—all kinds, all sizes. They passed a tent of living goats and sheep tied up. There was a tent of eels, some living, some dead. Then—there was a tent of glistening entrails and organs of all kinds of animals. A glorious display of guts. They then went to the saddest tent of all. There were many cats and dogs in cages or tied cruelly, awaiting purchase and slaughter, about to become protein in a dish. She caught a glimpse of large caged rats, awaiting the same.

"Oh, Franklin. I cannot look at these domestic pets used as food. Let's return to the entrails. I would rather look at entrails or snakes all day than to see these animals I love awaiting their fate."

Franklin hailed another rickshaw. Take us to the Imperial Hotel, please. He showed the operator another computer generated picture of his desired destination. "Okay, Sally. Time for some relaxation—a bath, a nap. How about a massage? We can get those at the hotel."

Sally smiled at him weakly. "Sounds mighty good to me. I am certainly not hungry, that is for sure."

"It is okay, Sally. When you are hungry once again we will eat in one of the dining rooms at the Imperial Hotel. They have Western cuisine and even some Western chefs. I am not ready for anything oriental, now, myself. I hate to admit it—but it is very true."

* * * * *

THE WAGON

Franklin made a stirrup with his interlocked fingers and hoisted Sally up into the lowest branches of the tree. She pulled herself up midway into the thickest part of the green growth. Franklin followed. The foliage was scratchy and itchy, but they made themselves comfortable on two of the strongest limbs. Franklin looked off into the night.

"I have been told this is one of the best places to come. It is heartbreaking. If we are here for a week's time, we may get as many as ten of them a day."

"Why do they bring them here, Franklin?"

"Now they bring them here because the word is out that they will get picked up by someone. The first few people that brought them here did so because it seemed safe. This caused a chain reaction of deposits. The woods are right next to a public park and there would not be many dangerous wild animals. They could not leave them in the park itself as they could be seen by security people. The security people would not do anything except tell them to pick their bundle back up and go home, thwarting their purpose."

"How could a mother who bore a child and kept it for day or two, part with it? It seems an impossible proposition. Did you know that the Chinese character for 'love' has the Chinese character for 'mother' as one of its components? How strange is that?"

"More than ironic. It is all cultural. They view it as a sort of 'abortion alternative.' They are limited to one child per household and do not want girls. The household members often remove the child before the mother can even hold her, so that she will not get attached. There are not orphanages enough to hold them. Families with money are able to orchestrate adoption procedures of their own, place them in other countries, until they get the male child they are desiring. Fortunately, families in America and other countries want these babies, and are trying to figure ways to get them over there. But they are not able to keep up with the high production level yet. That is where we come in. We are getting the ones who are falling through the cracks, now. Without us they are doomed.

•

A short distance away, but well hidden, a wagon was waiting. Ling Pot Po was snoring in the back of that wagon. The ox that had pulled it was munching on nearby grasses. Ling Pot Po had pulled himself away from the cockfights long enough to drive the wagon, his brother-in-law's. There was money to be made here and it was money they all needed. His nearly grown daughter, Kim Lu Joy folded and arranged laundry at the other end. She smiled as she glanced over at her snoring father. She was glad they were doing this.

The people who are getting these little babies out will take them to a better life. We are helping. They may live long and happy lives. They may one day have children of their own. The strange man and woman who will bring them to us are kind-hearted. They will save these new batches of babies until a better method for doing so is arranged. My uncle has said so, and he knows. We have been promised work while this is happening. When the man and woman go, we can gather the babies ourselves and keep them going to the secret boats. I will save my money.

Maybe there will be a way for me to get to America myself.

It would break my parents' hearts, but what kind of life do we have here?

•

The horizon broke open a tiny crack, a pale pink line that started glowing. "They usually come in the early morning." Franklin got out his pocket watch and looked at it. "Sometimes they hide and watch. Sometimes they come back, but most of the time they just dump them and go."

"I have read much about it. I suppose it is, as you said, a cultural and economic problem we cannot understand—but it seems so cold and heartless."

"I cannot fathom it myself, dear girl." Franklin patted Sally on the thigh while emphasizing, "Precious little lives, cast off. They are cast off because the government limits the number of children. . wait! What is this?"

Sally watched with disbelief. She saw the form of a diminutive woman carrying a bundle. The woman looked all about her in different directions. She found a short rise in the terrain, placed the bundle on it. Then ran off without even looking back."

Sally started down from the limb she was perched on.

Franklin held her back. "We must not go yet!"

"But..."

"Hold on, Sally. We must wait a few moments." Franklin Pierce and Sally Weare kept their eyes on the bundle. They kept their ears peeled for human or animal noises. "Now." Franklin motioned and jumped from the tree and held out his hand to help Sally. They walked briskly to the bundle. Franklin scooped it up and he and Sally hurried into the underbrush. Sally lifted up the corner of the blanket to gaze upon the face of the helpless infant. "She is so beautiful, Franklin."

Franklin stroked the little infant's cheek and the baby opened its tiny mouth in search of food. The thick black hair shone with pink highlights in the early morning daybreak. "Look at you, our little princess." Franklin whispered to the babe. "Quickly, now Sally, we must hurry back to our perch. More may be arriving!" Sally and Franklin hurried off with the baby. They approached the wagon. Kim Lu Joy was just pulling the canvas awning down over the top of the wagon. She turned to see them approaching. They handed the baby off to her and she smiled sweetly. Franklin and Sally headed back down through the woods.

•

"Are you sure we can go now, Franklin?"

"Yes, we can go. They won't bring anymore until early tomorrow morning. I lost track. How many did we get?"

"Twelve." Franklin and Sally had waited three additional hours near the tree perch with no more baby deliveries. They returned to the wagon where Kim Lu Joy was tending to twelve infants. Ling Pot Po was giving the ox water from a bucket. He hung the half-filled water bucket on a hook on the side of the wagon, then climbed up onto the seat for his job as driver. Franklin and Sally climbed into the back of the wagon to help Kim Lu Joy feed and hold the infants. Ling Pot Po turned the wagon and started the ox on its journey. "What are we giving the babies? Is it a type of formula?"

"No, Sally it is distilled water. It is just for our journey back to the boat. It may cut down on some of the crying, to get us there. They will be taken into the infirmary on the boat and get checked over. The specialists there will determine if they are allergic to anything before they start feeding them. They will also see if they carry anything or need to be quarantined."

"Is all of this why you had to leave me before?"

"Yes. I had to go help two souls in peril, I told you. Well, there were two souls. Two of these little babies. But there were many more little souls as well. I did not know how many there would be at the time, so I just said two. The reason I had to go was to arrange all of this. The boat we could use... I had to make use of the Chinese embassy when we were in Washington, I know that much you remember, but it all involved a whole network of bribe paying. I had to arrange for the money to finance the whole operation, including the bribes, and I had to finagle all the paperwork for the infants that will be needed when we get back to the United States with our precious cargo. And of course, I don't speak Chinese!" "I don't speak Chinese!" Franklin said again loudly to Kim Lu Joy. She giggled and giggled. Sally rolled her eyes. Franklin smiled.

"Franklin?"

"Yes, dear girl."

"I did not think there was any way I could—was impossible for me to love you any more—but at this very moment, well..." Sally's eyes bored directly into Franklin's eyes with adoration, kindness, love and yes, worship.

"Hush, woman. Hush, or I shall kiss you right here in front of Ling Pot Po, Kim Lu Joy, the twelve babies the ox and everybody!"

His free hand reached for Sally's—the hand on the arm he had free that was not holding a baby. Sally's one free hand squeezed his back. His hand—his hand was warm, it had blood and veins and flesh. It was the hand of a mortal man.

_How can this all be?_ She looked at his handsome face and saw the aura round it. She looked into his gray eyes and there sparked his soul. For that moment they were all one.

As for Sally Weare, there are people in the world that sensitive. They feel all of the pain. Blessedly they are also the ones with the ability to look past all the ugliness. They can see the beauty in everyday things. These are the people that can look at a person and see the aura, they can look into their eyes and see a soul. People on earth—people like Sally Weare that can see these things—they are the lucky ones.

* * * * *

SAFE HARBOR

As the boat pulled up into safe harbor, Franklin felt tears welling up in his eyes. He had just come up to talk to Sally after going below to check once more on the babies. Sally turned to see him there behind her and noticed his demeanor.

"What is it Franklin?"

"They are safe, now. I could not save my own sons, but I could save these babies, and had to try, Sally." He gazed into depths of her compassionate eyes. "You could not give life to your own, Sally but you have given life to these."

Sally moved her head to Franklin's shoulder and he could feel her gentle sobs.

As the vessel rolled with the tide, Sally and Franklin, rocked, locked in each other's arms, and released their pent up frustration and grief. It was frustration and grief they had each carried in their mortal beings for three quarters of a lifetime, and now it was being neutralized. The salt spray danced about them and they could feel the hearts in their chests seem to lighten. They smiled broadly at one another, became giddy. Franklin took Sally's left hand in his right and pulled her along the side of the deck in a sweeping, rhythmic, long-strided glide. It was a dance that he made up on the spur of the moment, a dance that required no audible music. Oh, there was a song all right, but it was a song in their heads that only they knew the melody to, and in their hearts, they had named their song, "Jubilation."

* * * * *

— _Franklin had wanted to stay in cabins in Anchorage at the end of their voyage. Sally nixed it. She was afraid of bears. After Franklin quit laughing, he decided that a hotel with the name of Hawthorn was too good to pass up—even if they did leave the "e" off of it._

ANCHORAGE

"Hawthorn Suites, Anchorage. May I help you?"

"I am trying to reach a Sally Weare or Benjamin Pierce. Are either of them listed there?"

"Hmmmm. We do have a Benjamin Pierce. Would you like me to try the room?"

"Yes, please. Just tell him Aine is calling."

"Hello."

"Sally?"

"Oh, hello, Fitzi. Wot is up?"

"Rich and I have been all over the west coast of North America. We are not that far away, about a day and a half, and are on our way when you are ready."

"I hope you and Rich had a pleasant journey and that all of your 'nannies to the stars' chums were glad to see you. Maybe you even got to see some famous faces or hold a famous kid in your lap."

"Oh, it was wonderful. We went to Disneyland, even, and some of the movie studios. We spent three weeks in San Francisco. We were in Seattle not long ago, and checked out your favorite place—Archie McPhee's."

"You didn't! Did you get to see Tikiville?"

"That and so much more. We have been touring the docks and piers in British Vancouver—all of the history."

"I can't wait to tell you what all has happened, but we must keep mum."

"Franklin must not be there. Where is he?"

"He went down to get as many newspapers from different places as he could get his hands on. He wanted to take a walk. We had the most lovely dinner. He was not in the mood for anything on the menu here, so he had something brought in from a restaurant. He had the concierge arrange it—very unusual, but they were accommodating. We gorged on King Crab, prawns and medallions of beef. These rooms are very reasonable, some have kitchens, and we always get the complimentary breakfast in the room. I am watching the Discovery Channel. It is a show about a strange noise that is coming from outer space."

"You haven't change a bit. And of course I am glad of it. Fancy food, strange subject matter..."

"I know you are anxious to get back to Merry Ol' England. Don't suppose Rich wants to go on another wagon train adventure."

"Why no. Not any time soon. We did go on a float trip in Oregon. Now he is yearning to go down to New Orleans and eat some of that food and listen to some of that jazz. We will be going through your part of the country, this time and the road will lead right to your door."

"Maybe you could be talked into staying a day or two. You could hob-knob with some gen-u-ine hillbillies and eat some of our chitterlings with possum gravy, sit a spell. Mudbugs can't hold a candle to 'em."

"Mudbugs?"

"That is what Cajuns call crawdads, crayfish. They are similar to shrimp but more gamey."

"I am sure it will be okay, if you have room."

"It will be dusty and musty, but we can take care of that."

"After we get through in New Orleans, we are going to Nashville for several days, then on to New York City and take in a couple of Broadway productions if we can get tickets, before flying home."

"I don't know how you could afford the gasoline for all of this—for the RV."

"Oh, Rich has wanted to do this North America thing for years and has put away for it far in advance. He also was helpful to an elderly relative for years and the old fellow gave him some extra money for the trip with only one request."

"And it was?"

"That he bring back some interesting things to put in his local library in his name, as a donation."

"And knowing you two, you found some really good stuff."

"Yes, we did, you ol' Countess of Hog Holler."

"Okay. We will be waiting."

* * * * *

ETHAN-ESS

"What is next for us, Franklin? Am I to die soon? Will you part with a clue? Perhaps, you do not know yourself." There was a subtle pleading in Sally's voice. She had to know that they could continue an existence together somehow, even if it was only in the that other world.

"Sally, I do not know when you will die, exactly, but I do know it will not be soon. We have accomplished what we needed to do, for now. We did a fine job of it and we will be able to do whatever new projects we deem beneficial to others. It will take awhile for our work in Washington to come to fruition and we must be at the ready, in case we can be helpful on further work there. I do know what will happen with us when you do cross over. I imagine some sort of graduation is in store for our souls." Sally saw a repressed smile breaking on Franklin's face, a glint in his eyes. "I cannot take you there, because it is in the future. I am not supposed to tell you. Would you really want to know?"

"Okay, okay. I don't want you to break any mysterious rules of the cosmos.. Oh, there is no way I can understand all of this. I am handicapped by my mortal-ness. Is that a word? Just tell me this: is it good? Will we be split up again into different mortal lives?"

"Hush! Franklin smiled. He pulled Sally close to him and looked down into her welled-up eyes. "No, mortal-ness is not a word! I am afraid you are starting to jabber. I cannot take you there, Sally, nor can I tell you, but I have here something you may wish to read. It may give you some answers." Franklin pulled an envelope from inside his waistcoat and removed a document. Sally recognized it as being amongst the many papers he removed from the cabin the night they had their first meeting, and had realized those papers along with this envelope had included maps, well locations, diagrams of Franklin's projects and other important papers Franklin had referred to on many occasions.

Sally unfolded the document. It was written in longhand in beautiful and flawless script. The title at the top of the page was "Enclavia" and the author had written his name as Ethan S. Adams. "Ethan S. Adams—who is this Franklin, is it a friend of yours?"

"Ethan S. Adams was a young man that Nathaniel had taken under his wing. Nate thought he had a deep well of talent—and the promise for so much more. This is a story Ethan was working on."

"I wonder why I have not heard of him. Surely he became an accomplished writer. Did he use a pen name?"

"That is the tragedy, girl. He drowned. He drowned before he ever knew the scope of his own talent. And you can just imagine how Nathaniel took his death. Yet he saved this story. He gave it to me in the White Mountains shortly before he died himself. He said I might want to read it some day. It might come in handy for something. He loved the boy so—called him Ethan-Ess!"

"Drowned? Oh Franklin." Sally began to read:

### ENCLAVIA  
by Ethan S. Adams

The head of the Pemigawassit River is in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It snakes along and connects up with the larger Merrimack which bisects the lower half of the state, much like the head of one snake swallowing the tail of another. Feeders shoot off to the east and west of both rivers. The smaller and larger feeders are a natural occurrence that provide the life-sustaining fluid to creatures and plants nearby. When man began to inhabit the lands he observed and used the added benefit of water travel to the list of gifts the serpentine formations brought him.

Near this head of the Pemigawassit River are verdant valleys squeezed in between lesser foothills of the White Mountains. There is a hidden village there and it has existed for only a brief time.

It was christened Enclavia.

Enclavia consists of two small mountains and the valley between them. Into the valley runs a tiny feeder of the Pemigawassit and there is a dwarf lake close by. The taller peak of Lafayette Mountain overshadows their existence, and it can be seen from various vantage points, such as the round of a curve on a logging road.

It seems I had developed an acute catarrh with ague. These are common ailments this time of year and I concluded I was nearing recovery, so I decided to venture out on horseback. I was expecting an important parcel to arrive by rail in a village of twenty-five miles distant. I went to fetch it.

Apparently, I was not well at all, and as I traveled along, I became dizzy and somewhat delirious. I took a wrong turn in the road, of that I am now certain, but at the time it seemed the thing to do. My horse began to limp, so I tied him up and began to walk a short way to seek aid. I became so intrigued that I decided to hide and observe what I saw before making myself known to others.

The main thoroughfare of the village looks right enough. It is lined with small shops overhung with porches. The paint seems muted, but the colors are more vibrant than we have seen. The conveyances sitting about are not horse-drawn, but are independent of draught animals of any kind. When they move, again, it is without the help of any animals.

There are no tracks beneath them and no appearance of steam discharge anywhere about them. Old logging trails on the mountains have been covered with a dark substance a few inches thick, and one can occasionally see these strange conveyances winding up the mountain trail. There are people inside the wagons behind windows of glass.

Children were playing in the green area across from the row of shops. A man of middle years came out of one of these shops and waved a greeting at the children. The clothing of the people, I should mention, were not such as we wear. They were very much more abbreviated and airy. Bare appendages were displayed to the world and going golden in the sun. I waited for the man to walk on and reveal the direction in which he was going.

He walked up a short rise to a building. It was similar to a barn, but made of metal. He got what appeared to be a fishing pole then left and walked further up a path to a large building made of brick. I hid in the underbrush. After I saw several groups of people leave the brick building and go a safe distance, I ventured up to the door and opened it slightly. I was frozen. I could not fathom what was before my eyes.

"May I help you find someone?" A friendly voice inside called out to me."

"Pardon me. I am in the wrong place," I was able to utter feebly as I shut the door softly and made my escape to a nearby thicket.

What I had seen in the brick building was a large indoor lake. People were frolicking in the water and overhead was a ceiling of solid windows.

I passed down by the large metal barn and peeked into a window in the door. The room was filled with skis, boats, sleds, fishing and hunting equipment like I have never seen before. And here is the strangest thing of all. No one was about, so I decided to venture inside for a small amount of time. My eyes could not take it all in. Then I spotted a plaque tacked to the wall. I was afraid to take much time there, but the plaque appeared to be and award or dedication and it gave the year. The year....the year appeared to be 2056 anno Domini. My eyes! They must be playing tricks on me. I crept around to a similar building and glimpsed into another window. The building was filled with easels, potters' wheels and finished artwork. A smaller building had musical instruments within its walls.

When it was safe, I ventured back to the area of shops. I hid in the trees and watched the children play and listened to their conversation.

"A new family is coming to our village!"

"Really? I didn't know anything about it."

"They are from England and have a girl our age."

I listened to the children's conversation. There was a girl with long red hair. There was a boy with coal black hair who was quiet and more reserved. Two of the children were oriental, maybe Chinese. A woman, who was probably their mother brought them a basket of food. The mother was dressed like a medical person. The conveyance she drove had a small red cross on the side.

Then there was another boy and a girl. They had been talking to their dark-headed friend and laughing. The slim boy had fair skin and curly brown hair with golden highlights. It was so curly, he could not find a place to part it. The girl had light golden skin, almond eyes and straight, dark reddish-brown hair. It flew about free in the wind. They giggled as she started to run. He chased her to one of the shops. A few moments later they came back outside. With them was another boy their age. They all went back to the green lawn.

A girl had come to sit next to the dark-headed, quiet boy on the grass. She looked over his shoulder at something he was writing. They smiled at their approaching friends who were returning with candies and cups of drink.

I must make my way back down the trail...maybe to find an implement that would remove a stone from the hoof of my horse.

"Oh Franklin! _A boy with coal black hair who was more quiet and reserved—Nathaniel—A girl coming from England—Aine—A slim boy with fair skin and golden brown hair so curly he could not find a place to part it—this is you, Franklin—A girl with straight, dark reddish-brown hair and golden skin—now who could that be?_ Sally reached up with her fingers and toyed with a lock of her hair. _The other boy and girl—Henry? Sophie?..._ Does this mean?"

"Come here, my fine woman. As usual there is no match for your keen abilities in the areas of detection and perception."

"What of poor young Ethan S.? Will he be there too, in Enclavia?"

"Yes." Franklin took Sally in his arms again and kissed her. The pages of Ethan's story dangled loosely in Sally's fingertips. "Yes!" He whispered again in her ear.

Yes, indeed.

* * * * *

EPILOGUE

In the hours, days, months and possibly years before Sally Weare made actual contact with Franklin Pierce, Nathaniel Hawthorne and others, there were strange happenings in her life that might later seem portentous. There were also many uncanny coincidences. There were also many questions. Here are just a few:

What are the chances that Sally Weare would make a pen friend of Aine Fitzgerald, a woman born in the same year she herself was born, living across a great expanse of ocean that happened to live just a few paces away from a home in which Nathaniel Hawthorne had once resided?

Their friendship came about only for the simple fact that Aine was searching for a coffee bean print and one of Sally's relatives just happened to mention this to her in an e-mail.

In researching her own roots, Sally learned that one of her ancestors had been governor of a state, and in fact of a territory during the same years Franklin's father was governor of New Hampshire. Did these two men in fact know each other? Had their paths ever crossed while doing their parts for the new country?

Sally's ancestors had been in attendance at a reception for Lafayette on his last tour of America, and had in fact been the young girls who carried the candlesticks and tossed rose petals.

Sally's family had married into Peabodys. Had they been related to Sophia Peabody, the love of Nathaniel Hawthorne's life, and her sister who had published _The Dial_?

Sally decided to enter one of her poems about a blue jay into a competition. As she was going to mail her entry at the post office, there was a single blue jay feather on the ground right in front of the door to her truck. She would have had to step on it to enter the truck. She picked it up and saved it. It was later that she learned the poem had gotten an award.

Sally had written many poems and song lyrics that were esoteric and seemed to come from nowhere. It was only after she made contact with Franklin that these lyrics and verses made any sense and in fact were centered or themed on actual events that happened later when they were together.

In viewing a map of New Hampshire, Sally was startled to find the name of many small towns not far from his birthplace of Hillsborough were in fact the names of important places or people in Sally Weare's life: Salisbury, the name of a dear childhood friend, Louden, the street on which her first apartment was located, Amesbury, the name of another street on which she lived, Weare, her own last name was even the name of a nearby town. Walpole—Sally was a descendent of Lady Jane Walpole. Londonderry—another of Sally's ancestors had been in the siege of Londonderry. Conway—Sally's maternal grandmother had been raised in a little village named Conway in a distant state, Sutton and Stinson were the last names of two close childhood neighbors. Northwood—the name of a school where Sally had once studied art for a short time. Lancaster—the name of a small town Sally had once lived in for a few years. Hutchins—a town in which Sally had her first real paying full-time job at age nineteen. Windham—the name of her first publisher, a book of poetry.

On the night she celebrated Franklin's birthday, with a glass of non-alcoholic champagne raised in a toast, strange noises emitted from areas of the room and man-like shadows moved in the periphery.

In fact, in the months before contact, she often noticed a dark shadow, about Franklin's width and height that moved in her peripheral vision and would then disappear.

One morning she came into her den which was completely closed off and found a throw pillow in the middle of the floor. There was no way it could have gotten there without assistance. It was a novelty pillow she had made by stuffing a cotton Smithfield Ham bag. She knew that by finding the pillow in this spot, she was meant to find a message she was supposed to decipher. She spent considerable time on the web and found nothing concrete. She did, however find an illustrious American family called the Smithfield-Prestons. From this two interesting things emerged. One of her own ancestors had been in a military unit with a Preston and they served under George Washington in the Continental Army. She found evidence of a Pierce also serving there.

In another entry, Levi Woodbury, Franklin's mentor, had a daughter who had married into the Smithfield-Prestons. His great-great-great grandson was Montgomery Cliff, the actor. The day after Sally discovered the Woodbury entry, she was driving down her country lane and passed a side road that had some construction on it. A new sign had gone up and the words on the sign were "Woodbury Estates."

As Sally sat at her computer one night she was bothered by the light of the full moon, risen in the sky. She had never seen the moon shine so brightly. It was distracting and bothersome. The next day she had to deliver some materials to a nearby school. While she was there she noticed a large poster of the topography of the moon—an educational tool—in a wastebasket. She asked for it, retrieved it and took it home and tacked it to the wall. Before she did, she wrote the date on the back. Later, this was the exact month and day that Franklin first explained his idea of "harnessing the moon" to her.

One evening before she went to bed, Sally had bent over her bathroom lavatory and vigorously brushed out her hair. The next morning as she was getting ready, she found a message written in the lavatory with two of the long hairs that had fallen from her head. It was the word, "gorjus" written in script, clinging to the side of the damp bowl, right in front of the mirror where she would be sure to see it while applying her make-up.

Perhaps the strangest event of all happened when she woke up one morning and could not locate her eyeglasses. If they were not on her face or the top of her head, they were usually on the opposing pillow. After several hours of puzzling about it, she went into her bedroom and stared at the Photostat of Franklin pinned to the wall. "All right, Franklin, hand over the damn glasses!"

She then sat on the edge of the bed, stared directly at the photo of Franklin and tried to "get a vibe." After a moment she had the urge to open the drawers of the bedside table. She did not know why. She would not, and had never put them in there. She opened the tiny drawers and examined the contents carefully. There was nothing. Her eyes fell on a flashlight nearby. She grasped it and began searching the back recesses of the drawers and it was then that she spotted a reflection way back behind one of the drawers. It was the eyeglasses and they were caught up the space behind the drawer that she had not even put the eyeglasses in. It took some finagling, but she was able to retrieve them without damaging them. "Thank you!" She voiced gratitude aloud to Franklin. She was still a bit perplexed as the disappearance of the eyeglasses was, she felt, Franklin's attempt to get her attention in some way. For what reason?

•

Other coincidences include: Franklin's father, Benjamin Pierce, Lafayette, and Paul Revere were all Revolutionary War heroes and proponents of democracy. The latter two were Freemasons. Did their paths cross? Probably.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Franklin's good friend and college mate wrote, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere." It was one of his most well-known poems.

Nathaniel Hawthorne was so dismayed by his uncle's participation in the Salem Witch Trials that he changed the spelling of his family's name from Hathorne to Hawthorne for his own name. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a play about the Salem Witch Trials.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's second wife was named Frances Appleton. Franklin's wife, Jane Means Appleton Pierce had a sister also named Frances Appleton. They were not the same person, still an almost too-strange coincidence.

Nathaniel's wife's sister was active in the Transcendentalist movement that started up the Brook Farm Experiment. Because of her interest, Sophie and Nathaniel also became interested and participated in the experiment for a six month period. Sophie's sister also published several of Nathaniel's works.

•

Aine Fitzgerald, Sally's confidant, and her shaman-lady friend decided to go to some past life regressions, and they were themselves regressed. Aine discovered that she had once been a mermaid and an Inuit. The shaman had lives as a shaman, priestess, and Druid.

The shaman-lady died in 2008 and modern-day Druids were actually involved in her memorial service. Aine was hoping she would receive a message from the shaman from beyond but has not received anything of this writing. Some other friends of the shaman have reported some strange activity.

Aine and Rich still live in adjoining homes in England. They are content to stay put for awhile. Aine and Sally continue e-mailing making transatlantic phone calls to each other.

Where are Franklin and Sally? It is reported that they have acquired some land adjoining Sally's property and are doing botanical experiments. Franklin keeps in close contact with alliances he has made in Washington D. C. and is still working incognito for the well-being and progress of the citizens of the U. S. A., with Sally's input and assistance.

Finis

* * * * *

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND CREDITS

Much of the research on the life of Franklin Pierce was aided by Nathaniel Hawthorne's biography of the man. In this biography Franklin's own written journal of the Mexican War was included. This journal offers insight into his character, the degree of education Franklin had, his realization that what he recorded was history in the making, even if he had only been a corporal or private his words would some day be viewed with interest—an on-the-battlefield-diary. Nathaniel's biography, including the journal may be found on the internet in several places for those interested in digging—very good reading.

Subjects involving the mystical: soul survival, the journey of the soul, Freemasonry, the idea of witchcraft in early America, astral projection, time travel, ESP, telegraphic thought, ghosts, spirit contact and other paranormal topics were investigated in the TIME LIFE series, many volumes, "Mysteries of the Unknown," published by Time Life books of Alexandria (yes, Alexandia!), Virginia, 1988 Edition.

_The American President_ published by Riverhead Books in 1999 supplied valuable material and food for thought about Franklin Pierce, the flavor of the times and wonderful photographs.

Biographical information on Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Jane and Franklin Pierce was gathered from The World Book Encyclopedia, 1958 Edition, Chicago, as was much of the geographical information needed for scene settings.

The author also wishes to thank his friends in Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, for their friendship and tidbits they supplied by telephone about the area, local drama and places of interest.

The Author hopes you will sometime check his Facebook page. He is busy uploading more images to that site that illustrate this vibrant story. His page is listed as:

Greenberry Baxter,  
the author

He also advises you to Google images for Franklin Pierce, his family members, Hawthorne, Longfellow and Lafayette or other subject matter that interests you from the book,

What Kind of Man...
