Robert Smith - The Planner

Planner’s wife urged her daughter into her husband’s shiny new SUV. They were running late for the daughter’s best-friend-forever’s twelfth birthday party. They had only decided earlier that afternoon to buy a new dress and it needed some extra tailoring.

Their driveway was illuminated only from the house window, since the outside light had failed the day before and Planner had not had time to replace it. There was no moon and even starlight was hidden by a blanket of November cloud. Their luxury house, set in park-like woods upon a small hill in Maryland, featured floor to roof windows in the center section. Planner’s wife had left the lights on in their hallway allowing enough light for the trip to the car in the drive.

She did not approve of the SUV, preferring something that was more ecologically friendly but her husband wanted a Ford Explorer in black and he usually got whatever he wanted. Her own car was in the garage but while Planner was away on one of his many business trips, Planner’s wife kept the car outside. She felt it was too big to fit into their garage. She had to admit it was a nice car to drive, good driving position, lots of power. It felt safe to drive.

Through the automatic gate, she drove with her daughter chattering away about the party, for about a mile to the edge of the hill. There the road descended sharply through a series of hairpin bends to the valley floor.

After the first hairpin bend, as they descended down the hill, there was sharp rasping sound and the steering wheel whipped dramatically clockwise out of her hands. She had no time to even grasp the wheel before the SUV plunged through the crash barrier that failed in its role of keeping the vehicle on the road. The daughter wailed, “Mom!”

The SUV plunged down the slope about twenty feet before crashing into tree stumps with a metal-crunching thud. Airbags burst forth, knocking the daughter out, but preventing any serious injury to them both. Beyond the sound of the engine racing, there was the hiss of steam and creaking of metal and Planner’s wife wailing in pain.

Then there was the smell of burning. It took several minutes for the flames to surround the car. Planner’s wife tried to reach out to her daughter. She was unable to exit the car. Her legs were pinned, stuck at 20 degrees away from vertical. She may have had a couple of minutes of despair and pain before her inevitable death when the fuel tank exploded.

* * * *

At the cemetery, Planner stood in the rain flanked by his younger brother and sister-in-law as a large and a small coffin were lowered side by side into a deep hole. Planner’s face framed by a hood, looked emotionless while the priest channelled his grief. On the opposite side of the hole, Planer’s wife and daughter’s friends and family, a large crowd, were in tears. Those that were not in despair glowered towards Planner, as-if he was somehow to blame. They probably had a right to be suspicious. He did not mix much with his wife’s friends. His work was something that was not suitable for polite conversation. His cover story was that he worked in the aerospace industry but whenever that generated interest from amateur enthusiasts, the topic of conversation was changed. Planner did not mingle too much with real people.

* * * *

Planner was also wearing a hood as he was being anointed as high chamber Mason. He was kneeling in a chamber lit only with candles and moonlight streaming from a huge gothic-style window to the south side of the building. There were eleven men inside the room, and the room still seemed empty. All the men were wearing brown robes but only Planner and Lodge Master were bare footed and bare legged. The Lodge Master continued his interrogation of Planner.

“Name the Five Points of Fellowship,” he asked.

“Hand to Hand, Foot to Foot, Knee to Knee, Breast to Breast, and Hand over Back”, Planner replied.

“Explain them.”

“Hand to hand, I greet you as a Brother. Foot to foot, I will support you in all your laudable undertakings. Knee to knee, the posture of my daily supplications shall remind me of your wants. Breast to breast, your secrets, when entrusted to me, I will keep as my own. And Hand over back, I will speak of your character in your absence as I do when you are present.”

“Explain them fully.”

“Hand to hand, when the necessities of a Brother call for aid, we should not hesitate in stretching forth the hand, to render the assistance, knowing him to be worthy. Foot to foot, tiredness should not cause our feet to halt, forgetting every selfish consideration, and remembering that man was not born for his own enjoyment alone, but for the assistance of his fellows, we should be swift of foot to help, aid, and execute benevolence to a Brother Mason. Knee to knee when we offer up our ejaculations to the Most High a Brother’s welfare we should remember as our own, for as the voice of children are heard at the throne of grace, so most certainly will the breathings of a fervent heart reach the dominions of bliss. Breast to breast, a Brother’s lawful secrets, when entrusted to us as such, we should keep as our own; for to betray the trust which one Brother reposes in another, might be to do him the greatest injury he could possibly receive. It would be like the darkest villainy of the assassin to do such. Hand over back, a Brother’s character should be supported in his absence or presence; we should not revile him ourselves, or knowingly suffer it to be done by others. Thus, by the Five Points of Fellowship, Brethren are united in fraternal affection, which will distinguish us from those who are strangers to our Masonic Order and that the word Brother , among us, is something more than a name.”

The Lodge Master nodded. And the other lodge members chanted, “Hand to Hand, Foot to Foot, Knee to Knee, Breast to Breast, and Hand over Back.”

After three verses, the Lodge Master held up his hand and the chanting stopped. “Please come with me to the inner chamber and become enrolled to the High Order.”

Planner stood and taking the Lodge Master’s hand, was led into a separate chamber. The other 11 men were silently watching until the door closed with a thud. They then let out a collective breath and started chatting, clicking on their cell phones and removing their itchy hoods.

* * * *

The Inner Chamber was a misshapen, high ceilinged room with strangely angled walls, densely packed with books and pictures. The Lodge Master signed his large signature on two parchments. The wobbly signature and blotched hands revealed his age, since his cosmetically altered tanned face and black hair, could not. He pushed the parchment over to Planner standing on the other side of the Tudor Rose antique desk. Once Planner had signed and returned the papers, the Lodge Master rolled one of the parchments, wrapped a ribbon around it and sealed it with drops of wax from a candle and imprinted the wax with a stamp. The stamp had a motif with an interlocking quill and dagger. He handed over the sealed roll to Planner.

“Congratulations on reaching the High Order,” purred the Lodge Master.

“Thank you, Most Worshipful Master. It’s a great honour… I feel somewhat undeserving considering my recent circumstances.” Planner gingerly took the roll while averting his eyes.

The Lodge Master continued, “Yes. Everyone in the lodge is so sorry for your loss… We were all very concerned for you… that it would affect your contribution. But we have been gratified by your commitment to our cause. Our greater cause, not only our Masonic duties.”

Planner looked up at the Lodge Master and tried to smile.

“How long has it been, now?” said the Old Man recognising his grief.