'I'm here to see Tom Gavin,' said Baedecker. 'I think he's expecting . . .'
'Dick!' Gavin came into sight from behind a partition. Baedecker had time to confirm how fit and trim his old crewmate looked and to extend his hand before Gavin threw his arms around him in a hug. Baedecker raised one hand in surprise. He remembered Tom Gavin as being anything but a physical person. Baedecker could not even remember seeing Tom hug his wife in public. 'Dick, you're looking great,' said Gavin, squeezing Baedecker's upper arms. 'By gosh, it's good to see you.'
'Good to see you, Tom,' said Baedecker, feeling pleased and a bit trapped at the same time. Gavin gave him another hug and led the way into his office, a cluttered cubicle formed by four partitions. Office sounds filled the warm air. Somewhere a young woman was laughing. One wall of Gavin's office was covered with framed photographs: a Saturn V rocket spotlighted at night on its mobile launch pad, the Peregrine command module with the bright limb of the moon beneath it, a group portrait of the crew in their spacesuits, a shot of the LM Discovery beginning its descent, and an autographed picture of Richard Nixon shaking Tom's hand in a Rose Garden ceremony. Baedecker knew the photographs well; duplicates or near duplicates had hung on the wall of his own office and den for twelve years. Missing from Gavin's collection was only one of NASA's standard photos from the mission — a color print blown up from a picture taken from the lunar rover's video camera of Baedecker and Dave Muldorff, indistinguishable in their bulky spacesuits, saluting the American flag with the white hills of Marius Crater in the background.
'Talk to me,' said Gavin. 'Tell me what's going on in your life, Dick.' Baedecker spoke for a minute, telling Gavin about his old job in St. Louis and his departure. He did not explain the reasons for leaving. He was not sure if he knew all the reasons.
'So you're looking for work?' asked Gavin.
'Not right now,' said Baedecker. 'I'm just traveling. I have enough money saved to be a bum for a few months. Then I'll have to look for something. I have a few offers.' He neglected to say that none of the offers interested him at all.
'Sounds great,' said Gavin. A framed poster over his desk read SURREN-
DERING YOUR LIFE TO JESUS IS THE GREATEST VICTORY YOU CAN EVER WIN. 'How's
Joan? Do you keep in touch at all?'
'I saw her in Boston last March,' said Baedecker. 'She seems very happy.'
'Great,' said Gavin. 'What about Scott? Still at . . . where was it? Boston University?'
'Not right now,' said Baedecker. He paused, debating whether to tell Gavin about his son's conversion to the teachings of the Indian 'Master.'
'Scott's spending a semester off, traveling and studying in India,' he said.
'India, wow,' said Gavin. He was smiling, relaxed, his expression open and affectionate, but in the deep-set, dark eyes Baedecker thought he saw the same cold reservoirs of reserve he could recall from their first meeting more than two decades earlier at Edwards. They had been competitors then. Baedecker did not know what they were now.
'So tell me about this,' said Baedecker. 'About Apogee.'
Gavin grinned and began speaking in a low, firm voice. It was a voice much more used to public speaking and storytelling than the one Baedecker remembered from the mission days. It had been a standing joke that Tom liked to answer in words of one syllable or less. At the time, Dave Muldorff had been nicknamed 'Rockford' because of a supposed similarity to a television detective played by James Garner, and for a while the other pilots and ground crew had called Gavin 'Coop' because of his laconic 'yeps' and 'nopes.' Tom had not been amused, and the nickname did not stick.
Now Gavin spoke of his years after the lunar mission, of leaving NASA shortly after Baedecker did, of the unsuccessful pharmaceutical distributor-ship in California. 'I was making money hand over fist, we had a big house in Sacramento and a beach house north of San Francisco, Deedee could buy anything she wanted, but I just wasn't happy . . . do you know what I mean, Dick? I just wasn't happy.' Baedecker nodded.
'And things just weren't good between Deedee and me,' Gavin went on. 'Oh, the marriage was intact, at least it looked that way to our friends, but the deep part . . . the committed part, that just wasn't there anymore. We both knew it. Then, it was one day in the fall of 1976, a friend invited Deedee and me to a Bible retreat weekend sponsored by his church. That was the beginning. For the first time — even though I'd been raised a Baptist — for the first time I really heard God's Word and realized that it applied to me. After that, Deedee and I received some Christian marriage counseling and things got better. It was during that time when I did a lot of thinking about the . . . well, the message I'd heard, felt really, while orbiting the moon. Even so, it wasn't until spring of ‘77, April fifth, that I woke up one morning and realized that if I was going to go on living that I had to put all of my faith in Jesus. All of my faith. And I did it . . . that morning . . . I got down on both knees and accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior and Lord. And I haven't been sorry since; Dick. Not one day. Not one minute.' Baedecker nodded. 'So that led to this?' he asked, nodding at the office all around them.
'Sure did!' Gavin laughed, but his eyes were still intense and unblinking. 'Not all at once though. Come on, I'll show you around, introduce you to some of the kids. We've got six people working full-time and another dozen or so volunteers.'
'Working full-time at what?' asked Baedecker.
Gavin stood up. 'Answering phones mostly,' he said. 'Apogee's a nonprofit company. The kids arrange my speaking trips, coordinate with local groups — usually ministries and Campus Crusade — put out our monthly publication, do some Christian counseling, run a drug rehabilitation program — we have specially trained people for that — and generally work the Lord's will when He shows it to us.'
'Sounds like a busy schedule,' said Baedecker. 'Sort of like the old days preparing for the mission.' Baedecker did not know why he said that; it sounded inane even to him.
'A lot like the mission,' said Gavin, putting an arm around Baedecker. 'Same busy schedule. Same sense of commitment. Same need for discipline. Only this mission is a million times more important than our trip to the moon.' Baedecker nodded and started to follow him out of the office, but Gavin stopped suddenly and turned to face him. 'Dick, you're not a Christian, are you?' Baedecker felt surprise change to anger. He had been asked that before and the question agitated him by its strange combination of aggressiveness and self-serving provincialism. Yet the answer, as always, eluded him. Baedecker's father had been a lapsed member of the Dutch Reformed Church, his mother an agnostic, if anything. Joan had been a Catholic, so for years, while Scott was growing up, Baedecker had attended Mass each Sunday. For the past decade he had been . . . what had he been? 'No,' said Baedecker, shielding his anger but returning Gavin's stare, 'I'm not a Christian.'
'I didn't think so,' said Gavin and squeezed Baedecker's arm again. Gavin smiled. 'I'm going to tell you right up front that I'll be praying that you become a Christian,' he said. 'I mean that with love, Dick. I really do.' Baedecker nodded and said nothing.
'Come on,' said Gavin. 'Let's go introduce you to these wonderful kids.'
After the cooking pots and utensils were washed in water heated over the campfire, Baedecker, Maggie, Gavin, and Tommy walked over to speak to the other campers. The group sat around their campfire and looked up as the others approached.
'Howdy,' said Gavin.
'Hi,' said the redheaded boy. The girl and the overweight young man stared up at the visitors. The one called Lude continued to stare into the fire. Firelight illuminated everyone's faces from below.