ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? (13 page)

"The other day," Rev. Hurbuckle resumed, mildly, "I saw a
cartoon, in which a woman approached her pastor after a sermon very much like
the one you are about to hear, and she asked him "Do I really have to
love
my neighbor? Couldn't I just, well,
tolerate
him?"

The congregation laughed appreciatively, but Hurbuckle silenced them with a
stern look. "Do you think that's funny? I don't think that's funny,"
he said gravely. "I don't think it's the least bit amusing. I think the
importance of the command to 'love thy neighbor as thyself' cannot be
overstated."

He paused and gazed at the crowd intensely. "If you have your Bibles with
you, you can follow me now," he said.

The audience was suddenly struck with an epidemic of Bible-opening, which
couldn't have been better synchronized if it had been executed by a squadron
of military cadets.

"Matthew 7:12," Hurbuckle intoned. "Jesus summarizes the
importance of the Golden Rule by saying,
this is the law and the prophets.
Then, in Matthew 22:40, after he tells to love the Lord our God with all our
heart, soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, Jesus concludes,
"On these two commandments hang
all
the law and the prophets."

In the President's study, Pickett and Delphine exchanged furtive glances and
Pickett suppressed a sigh.

On stage, Hurbuckle casually turned his back on the congregation, then whirled
like a panther, his voice rising in passion and power, "Said John, the
Apostle, 'If a man say I love God and hateth his brother, he is a
liar
;
for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom
he hath not seen? And we have this commandment from him, That he who loveth God
love his brother also. 1 John 4:20-21."

At that, Kooter roused himself, bent forward, grunting, and grabbed the remote
control and hit mute. "Let's give this a rest for a few minutes," he
said.

"A few minutes," Bourque agreed.

"Do you have any of the good stuff left, Buddy?"

Bourque smiled. "What do you think?"

"Pickett," said Kooter, "fix me up, okay?"

Pickett got a bottle out of a cabinet. He set out one glass, glanced at
Bourque, who nodded, and got a second glass, filled them both and handed one to
the President and the other Vice President, who took it gratefully.

"Sermon getting to you?" Bourque asked Kooter.

"Maybe a little." He maneuvered the glass around his mustache and
took a sip.

"Don't know why it would," Bourque said. "You love your
neighbors, don't you?"

Kooter shot him a look

"You said that Rev. Hurbuckle would be making an important announcement,
Daddy," Delphine said. "Is he ever going to get to it?"

"In good time, I imagine," Bourque said. He took the remote control
from Kooter and unmuted the TV.

At the Glass Church, Hurbuckle was delivering more of what they'd heard
earlier, at a higher emotional pitch, if possible, leaping around the
stage like an evangelistic Nijinsky.

"What I don't unnerstand," Kooter said, "is what y'all are
waiting for. I've had just about all the preachin' I can swallow in one day. Is
the good Rev. gonna say
abracadabra
or something and disappear in a puff
of smoke?"

"I swear, Kooter," Bourque said, raising his voice, "you got
less patience than a fruit fly. He'll be coming up on it real soon now,
promise."

"I hope so," Delphine said.

At the Glass Church, Hurbuckle stopped in mid-stage, panting, then walked to
the forward edge and sat down, facing the congregation, gathering himself.
"Remember the woman in the cartoon, who asked if it was enough that she
tolerate
her neighbor? Well, the answer is NO!
It is not
enough merely to tolerate our neighbor, we must love them as we love ourselves,
and we must do for them what we would have done unto us.”

Hurbuckle paused, satisfied. Then he went on, more quietly. "Every so
often," he said, "we are privileged to witness first-hand a shining
example of what it truly means to love thy neighbor. I have just had that
privilege.

"Yesterday morning, our beloved President Buddy Bourque came to me and
told me that he'd had a most unusual request. The President of our neighbor,
the North American Union—yes, the newly-elected Black man—had asked our great
leader to visit him, to come to his aid. 'I don't yet know the details,'
our President told me, 'but I know that the request was sincere and urgent.'
And, good people, I could see that our friend, President Bourque, was deeply
touched.

"He had come to me not to seek my advice or counsel. He had already made
up his mind, which is only right, since the decision-making is his
responsibility and burden. He had come to ask me to pray that he had made the
right decision, the decision God wanted him to make, the decision that would
benefit all of us. He had decided to go to Washington, D.C. and talk with
President Callaway."

Hurbuckle paused and the audience broke out in an excited buzz.

"And I asked him…" the buzz abruptly faded... "I asked him why
he was doing this. And do you know what he told me? He told me he was going
because Jesus told him to love his neighbor as himself."

"Amen!" said a woman in one of the upper rows, and her outcry was
followed by a ragged chorus of "amens" scattered through out
the sanctuary.

Hurbuckle was on his feet now, and he was sure of himself. "And I said to
President Bourque, you have made the decision God wants you to make, and I will
pray for your success with my whole heart."

Half the audience reacted with a hearty "Amen," and the second half
joined in, albeit belatedly. Only one man, who was standing at the back of the
auditorium, seemed unmoved: Harlan Hurbuckle, Jr.

"Let us pray for the Godly man who leads our nation," Hurbuckle said.
"Let us pray for his success." He bowed his head, his lips moving
soundlessly, and the entire congregation imitated him exactly. Finally,
he look at them again, all smiles. "I thank you for your prayers," he
said, "and I know President Bourque is grateful as well. And now, we come
to the close of the service, the laying on of hands."

Bourque grabbed the remote control and clicked off the TV. "So? What
do you think? You like the sendoff?"

"I'm impressed," Pickett said. "That was truly wonderful. The
old guy is still amazing."

"You're going to see President Callaway, Daddy?" Delphine asked,
acting surprised.

"Seems so, Darlin'," Bourque said with a twinkle. Then he glanced at
the Vice President, who seemed stunned. "You okay, Kooter?"

"I'm not sure. Are you really gonna do this, Buddy?"

"I am," Bourque admitted. "The public wants me to—you heard
them. Right, Roy?"

"I did, sir. I did."

"You might have given me a little warning," said Kooter, draining the
rest of his drink. A drop had settled on his mustache and he snaked out his
tongue to retrieve it.

"Aw, Kooter," Bourque said. "If I had, you probably would have
tried to argue me out of it."

"Damn straight. Negotiating with the North? That's a stone wall
nobody's ever clumb over."

"Maybe so," Bourque said. "But they want to talk. Don’t you want
to know why?"

"I'm damn curious," said Kooter, peevishly. "And suspicious.
They view us with contempt. And we
loathe
them. I can't see what good
could come from it. Y'know, they're bound to make demands."

Bourque laughed. "Demands? Demands? I'll make demands right back at
'em. I'll make demands they couldn't imagine. I'll drown 'em in demands."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kooter said. "They're the snakes and
you're the mongoose." He held out his glass for a refill and Pickett
hurried to oblige. "Just don't go making any
deals
. That
juice just ain't worth the squeezing."

"Why not?" Delphine asked.

"Well, missy, there ain't a single white Southerner that don't love Buddy
Bourque. But if he goes treating with the enemy, he could get unpopular real
fast."

"The people at the Glass Church sure seemed to approve,"
Pickett said.

"Yeah, but that was before they had time to think about it, while old
Hurbuckle was casting his spells," said Kooter. "But after it sinks
in—after you actually meet Callaway, and especially if you sign any papers—the
good ol' boys aren't going to be happy with you."

"How unhappy do you think they'll be?" Bourque inquired.

"Depending on what happens at the meeting, I can see some loud
complaining, maybe some protests…"

"Well, if that's the worst…" Bourque began.

"It's not," Kooter interrupted. "Some of the farmers and country
folks are gonna feel you're threatening they way of life, giving aid and
comfort to the enemy. They're going to call you a traitor, some of
'em."

Bourque nodded, as though he'd expected no less. "Think I can change their
minds, Kooter?"

"Depends on what you say. Depends on you not getting yourself killed by
some psycho. We have plenty of 'em, you know. And shotgun sales are up this
year."

Delphine glanced at Pickett, concerned. All he could do was to shrug
helplessly.

"I'll have the boys keep an eye on the psycho list," Bourque said.

Kooter grinned. "Okay," he said, "But who'll keep an eye on the
boys?"

This time, Bourque ignored him. "Kooter, I may need your support…"

"Oh sure. You got a blank check handy?"

"Not that kind of support."

"I know."

"I'm gonna try to get something good out of this," Bourque told
Kooter. "And when I bring it home, it could be a hard sell."

"That's putting it mildly," Kooter said.

Bourque turned toward Barnes, touched his hand and looked into his eyes.
"Are you gonna fight me on this, Kooter?"

Kooter smiled weakly. "Oh, don't you fret. I'll come around."

"I know you will," Bourque said warmly, squeezing Kooter's hand.
"Now how about walking me around the Plantation and helping me break the
news to the troops?"

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Bourque called.

Gerald Pinckney entered the room, timidly. "Have I missed anything?"
He asked.

Precisely at noon, the governments of the North American Union and the
Confederate States of America officially announced the upcoming meeting between
their two Presidents.

For the CSA, this amounted to the distribution of a one-page press release. The
NAU put out a nearly identical press release, but as it happened, the daily
press conference took place at the same time.

It was conducted by Jewel Rogard, Callaway’s Press Secretary, the very same
tall, gawky blonde assigned to write the press release announcing the
Bourque-Callaway meeting, the one with the too-short skirt and pipe cleaner
legs who, because of her appearance, people tended to underestimate.

Jewel stepped up to the press room podium with a smile, while an assistant
passed out copies of her meeting announcement press release. She smiled. “Good
morning everyone. I’ll give you a moment to read the release, then take your
questions.”

In general, journalists aren’t easily shocked or surprised, and the White House
Press corps, having seen just about everything, is particularly
phlegmatic. This occasion was different. There were audible gasps.
Seasoned reporters looked at each other, dumbfounded. Blood rivals
started talking to each other. Some disobeyed the iron clad "no cell
phones" rule and frantically tried to call their offices.

"No cell phones," Jewel reminded them, as though they were naughty
children. “I'll take your questions now." Forty hands shot up
simultaneously. She pointed to a tall, handsome man with greying temples.

“Jewel, unless I am badly mistaken, you just
announced an event the likes of which we have not seen for more than 100
years—a meeting between the two Presidents of the former United States…"

"That's true," she said. "You have a question?"

"I do indeed. A two-parter: What in God's green Earth is behind this
meeting? And what does our new young President hope to gain from it?"

Jewel nodded. "I'll take the second part first. The President hopes that
the meeting will result better relations between our two countries."

One of the reporters interrupted. "Why would we need…"

"And the answer to the first part of your question is pretty much the
same," Jewel said. "They're meeting to discuss a number of issues
that affect both of our countries—trade tariffs, air and water pollution,
global warming, energy issues, action to protect endangered species, that sort
of thing."

Jewel looked at the raised hands and pointed to a dowdy-middle-aged brunette in
a dark blue business suit, who was sitting in the back row.

"Thank you, Jewel," the woman said, standing. "Could you tell us
how this meeting came about? Whose idea was it?"

Jewel smiled as though she were grateful for the question. "Well, the
President has always been eager to improve relations with our neighbors and I
believe he's been thinking about such a meeting for some time. And evidently,
President Bourque had the same idea."