Francis LaPorte and the Association of Good Fellows

Finely Cooked Roast

Saturday, 9 Sh'vat, 5693

LaPorte was sitting with his family around his parents' dinner table, happily eating the finely cooked roast which his mother had made for the special occasion.

"To Francis and Sophie!" their brother, Richmond, proclaimed merrily, holding high his glass of amontillado for a toast. He was a man built much like Francis with dark brown hair he wore a little longer than the rest of them. "May you have the happiest of years, even in the midst of all this madness!"

The others chattered in agreement.

"Twenty-seven!" his father commented, assuming the place of the comic as he marveled, glancing over at his wife with a joking grin. "Goodness, if the little ones have grown so old, what does that make us?"

"No older than we would have been without them," the grey haired lady replied with an amused smile, clearly satisfied with herself for having so brave a response.

Karl laughed boisterously. He took a piece of bread and buttered it, shaking his head with a begrudging grin as he said, "But certainly older than we would have been without those maniacal Good Fellows. What ever are they thinking with all of these street brawls, demonstrations, and vicious attacks... not to mention that poor member of the Brotherhood they beat to death last year!"

It was at this time that Martin Dennihy, a soft-spoken and slender man with an angular figure and sunken cheeks began to speak. He had long been a friend of the LaPorte family and married Francis's sister, Ruth, whom he loved dearly.

"Certainly the violence between the Good Fellows and the Collective Brotherhood has reached a tipping point," he said, his brown eyes peering through the thin glass of his rounded spectacles. "The tensions there are like a pile of dry wood waiting for someone to light it. Either side could overstep their bounds so easily. One wrong step, one real emergency and what little peace we have could be gone at the strike of a match."

The others stared at him. Who could argue with the skillful jurist. This was certainly a time of immense uncertainty, and it was a short step from where they stood to utter tyrannical chaos.

Francis's eyes slipped over to Gerard Lötz, Sophie's husband, a court judge and long time friend of the family, as well as Martin. He had been unusually quiet that evening, despite having only recently returned from a brief stint out of town.

"How is your father doing?" Francis asked him, having hitherto avoided the topic.

Gerard sighed, laying his fork down on the plate, the food on which was more pushed around than eaten. "He isn't doing well, Francis," he said, lowering his bright green eyes, which were like emeralds with light shining through them. "I'm sorry I hadn't told you. I didn't want to weigh down the celebration with my mood," remarked the brawny, red haired man with an air of apology.

Francis frowned, and his eyes fell as his heart felt a wave of sympathetic sorrow.

"Also, he's worried about things, as you can understand," he shook his head, and Sophie placed her hand on his arm to comfort him. He smiled at her. "The Good Fellows' rhetoric against the Altruic people is not only disturbing, it's, also, dangerous. Should it ever translate into policy," he shrugged, "who knows? It could spell disaster for me, for my family... even for Sophie and our children. I have spent years practicing law as a respectable judge, and now my whole life is in peril, for what? Because of my ancestry?"

"It is troublesome that President Hausenfelder has appointed Herman Desnik over the land East of Dresden," Richmond pondered, drawn in by the concern of his brothers-in-law. "I know the Center Party meant it as a way to appease the Good Fellows and achieve some form of governmental stability, but that, also, means Freitag has access to his own police force."

"He may have already begun to implement it," Francis commented dryly, and the room fell silent. Again, an atmosphere of heavy tension invaded their lives and hung in the air between them. "Something very interesting happened Wednesday night when I was presenting at The Commodore. You may recall that the broadcast was suddenly cut off in such a way that it appeared as if I was actually advocating for Freitag. That was no accident."

"Are you saying that you actually believe it was Freitag's men who stopped the broadcast?" Richmond asked, his brown eyes fixed on his brother. "Perhaps you had a misunderstanding with the station manager or simply lost track of time and exceeded the length of the segment."

Francis shook his head. "I counted every word, Richmond. I timed every syllable. My speech did not extend the time. It wasn't possible that it might. Besides, they all but threatened me."

"Threatened you?" Sophie exclaimed, astonished.

"Who threatened you, Francis?" Ruth asked, her warm brown eyes raising to meet his with a glimmer of concern.

"The men who came," Francis told her. "The station went suddenly dark and these men came in suits. One man came into the room where I sat. The others escorted Mr. Kendrick to some place I could not see. I still don't know what happened to him. No one does, and he has been missing from the station for days. The man who spoke to me, I did not get his name. I only know that he was an associate of the Good Fellows and that he urged me in no uncertain terms to return home and henceforth leave all of my political concerns unspoken."

Their eyes shifted one to another in silent distress and contemplation of the coming world until Anna returned to the dining room with her daughter, Evony, and Ruth's boys, Samuel and Christopher.

"I don't know how you all find it so acceptable to bring such dire topics to a birthday celebration, but I will ask that you lay it aside for the time being," she said, gently chiding the group. "Now, Francis, Sophie, the children have prepared some music to present you with for the occasion," she added, smiling.

The attention of the room turned to the adjoining room where the piano sat as Evony took her place at the bench and her fingers began to tap upon the keys with skillful form, and the boys began to accompany her, chiming in on their instruments, also: Christopher on his flute and Samuel his violin, their light and pleasant tones creating a beautiful blending of music for the hearers.

Francis watched Evony as she played, impressed by the shining talent of his niece who was blossoming quickly into an elegant young lady. She sat with her fingers dancing over the keys of the piano, her curly brown hair pulled partly back with a thin white ribbon with tiny pink dots which matched her polkadot dress. It was not a question to him whether she would take his place as the family's resident pianist one day, as she did now in his absence, but it was always a wonder to him how music could sooth the souls of men, even in such troubled times as these.