Ashes of Yesterday

Chpter 36

The Mercer Raceabout that Emory left at Flix's disposal drove like a dream. It was solid black and low-slung, and it hugged the road. The headlights were large, and there was a spare tire road on the running board of the passenger's side. The convertible raced down the highway. Who cared about such silly things as speed limits, Flix thought, when your chariot practically glided on air?

He slowed the roadster as he neared Buck's house.

The damage had been erased. You couldn't tell a car had plowed through the home. Flix wondered if Oswall's minions had had to work night and day to repair the place. Probably.

He drove up the driveway, got out, and knocked on the door. He had expected a butler or secretary or some other member of Buck's entourage to answer. He was slightly shocked when the reverend greeted him.

"What service may I render, brother?" Oswall Buck asked.

Flix saw Buck's eyes wander to the roadster. It really was a fine machine.

"My name is Florian Flix, Mr. Buck. I know you are busy, but I was wondering if I might take a moment of your time."

"My time is not mine to give," said Buck.

For an instant, Flix was certain Buck was going to slam the door in his face.

"It is the Almighty's," Buck said. "He has sent you here for a reason. Nothing happens that He does not allow. Come in, Mr. Flix."

"Thank you."

Flix entered the home. It was surprisingly plain. Then again, after the ultra-extravagance of the Steppson estate, a king's palace might seem austere.

"Have a seat," Buck said, sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

"I am searching for answers," Flix began.

Oswall Buck jumped in.

"Well," Buck said, "then you have come to the right place. Many of us reach a point in life where the road seems to end or it veers off in so many ways that we must ask for directions. Spiritual guidance is yours for the asking. It is only a prayer away, you know."

"Uh," said Flix, "I was thinking about guidance for a more, shall we say, worldly topic."

"Right," said Buck.

He cleared his throat and waited for Flix to continue.

"I was wondering what advice you'd have for a . . . well, a man who has gotten a girl into trouble. Carnal trouble, I mean. You see, she lost the child, and well, she's admitted her mistake. And . . ."

"And you wish to know if you should forgive her," said Buck.

"Forgive?"

"Why, Mr. Flix," said Buck, "isn't forgiveness one of the main teachings in the Good Book?"

"You think she should be forgiven?" Flix asked.

"We are all stained by some mistake, are we not? Large or small. None of us is innocent."

Flix was quiet. He stared at the ceiling, pretending to mull over Buck's counsel.

"Could you do it?" Flix asked. "Forgive, I mean."

"Of course," Buck said. "It is my Christian duty."

"Very well," said Flix. "I shall tell DaneValley that all is forgiven. I shall tell her that you will talk to Mr. Alfred Steppson and that you will personally see to it that she is reinstated to her job at Mr. Steppson's studio."

"You will do no such thing, young man," Buck said.

Buck's face was crimson. He shot from his chair, shaking in anger and indignation.

"Just who in the hell are you?" Buck asked.

"I am a friend of DaneValley's," Flix said. "I could not believe it when I heard that you would hold a vendetta against a young woman who admitted she was sorry the incident happened. Is it not, in your own words, Mr. Buck, your Christian duty to forgive her as you have been forgiven?"

Buck's hand flicked opened a desk drawer. Flix was staring down the end of a pistol.

"You get out of my house," Buck said.

There was a flatness to the preacher's voice. A deadly calm had suddenly come over the man. Flix was staring into the face of Evil.

To his credit, Flix did not blink.

"Very well, Mr. Buck," said Flix. "I know all I need to know. Good day."

Flix turned and exited the room. He got into the Mercer Raceabout and drove away.