The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

Representative Buchanan had not been well known to the citizens of New York, but it was a comment on his service in Congress that Senator Kane flew to Tennessee to attend his funeral. It is the sort of gesture that is rarely seen in politics today and is just another reason why Senator Kane is one of the most respected legislators in either house.

  Florentyna was rapidly becoming the most sought-after politician in Washington. Even the President admitted that the demands on her time weren’t running far short of his. But among the invitations that came that year, there was one she accepted with considerable pride. Harvard invited her to run for election to the Board of Overseers in the spring and to address the Graduation Day ceremony that June. Even Richard put a note in his diary to keep the day free.

  Florentyna looked up the list of those who had preceded her in this honor—from George Marshall outlining the plan to reconstruct postwar Europe to Alexander Solzhenitsyn describing the West as decadent and lacking in spiritual values.

  Florentyna spent many hours preparing her Harvard address, aware that the media traditionally gave the speech considerable coverage. She practiced paragraphs daily in front of the mirror, in the bathtub, even on the golf course with Richard. She wrote the complete text herself—in long hand—but accepted numerous amendments from Janet, Richard and Edward on its content.

  The day before she was due to deliver the speech, Florentyna had a telephone call from Sotheby’s. She listened to the head of the department and agreed to his suggestion. When they had settled on a maximum price, he said he would let her know the outcome immediately after the auction. Florentyna felt the timing could not have been better. She flew up to Boston that night, to be met at Logan Airport by an enthusiastic young undergraduate who drove her into Cambridge and dropped her off at the Faculty Club. President Bok greeted her in the foyer and congratulated her on her election to the board, and then introduced her to the other overseers, who numbered among the thirty, two Nobel Prize winners, one for literature and one for science; two ex-cabinet secretaries; an army general; a judge; an oil tycoon and two other university presidents. Florentyna sat through the meeting amused by how courteous the overseers all were to one another and she could not help but contrast their approach with that of a House committee.

  The guest room they put at her disposal brought back memories of Florentyna’s student days and she even had to phone Richard from the corridor. He was in Albany dealing with some tax problems caused by Jack Kemp, the new Republican governor of New York State.

  “I’ll be with you for the lunch,” he promised. “By the way, I see tomorrow’s speech was worthy of a mention by Dan Rather on the CBS news tonight. It had better be good if you hope to keep me from watching the Yankees on channel eleven.”

  “Just see you are in your place on time, Mr. Kane.”

  “Just you make sure it’s as good as your speech to the Vietnam Veterans of America, because I’m traveling a long way to hear you, Senator.”

  “How could I have fallen in love with you, Mr. Kane?”

  “It was, if I remember rightly, ‘Adopt an Immigrant Year,’ and we Bostonians were exhibiting our usual social consciousness.”

  “Why did it continue after the end of the year?”

  “I decided it was my duty to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “Good decision, Mr. Kane.”

  “I wish I were with you now, Jessie.”

  “You wouldn’t if you could see the room they’ve given me. I have only a single bed, so you would be spending the night on the floor. Be on time tomorrow, because I want you to hear this speech.”

  “I will. But I must say it’s taking you a long time to convert me into a Democrat.”

  “I’ll try again tomorrow. Good night, Mr. Kane.”

  Richard was awakened the next morning by the telephone at the Albany Baron. He assumed it would be Florentyna on the line with some senatorial comment, but it turned out to be New York Air to say there would be no flights out of Albany that day because of a one-day job action by maintenance workers that was affecting every airline.

  “Christ,” said Richard, uncharacteristically, then jumped into a cold shower, where he exercised some other new words in his vocabulary. Once he was dry, he tried to get dressed while dialing the front desk. He dropped the phone and had to start again.

  “I want a rental car at the front entrance immediately,” he said, dropped the phone again and finished dressing. He then called Harvard, but they had no idea where Senator Kane was at that particular moment. He left a message explaining what had happened, ran downstairs, skipped breakfast and picked up the keys to a Ford Executive. Richard was held up in the rush-hour traffic and it took him another thirty minutes to find Route 90 East. He checked his watch: he would only have to do a steady sixty if he was going to be in Cambridge in time for the speech at two o’clock. He knew how much this one meant to Florentyna and he was determined not to be late.

  The last few days had been a nightmare: the theft in Cleveland, the kitchen walkout in San Francisco, the seizing of the hotel in Cape Town, tax problems over his mother’s estate—all happening while the price of gold was collapsing because of the civil war in South Africa. Richard tried to put all these problems out of his mind. Florentyna could always tell when he was tired or overanxious and he did not want her to be worrying about situations he knew he could remedy eventually. Richard wound the car window down to let in some fresh air.

  The rest of the weekend he was going to do nothing but sleep and play the cello; it would be the first break they had both had for over a month. No children: William would be in Boston with his own family, and Annabel in Mexico—leaving nothing more strenuous to consider than a round of golf for two whole days. He wished he didn’t feel so tired. “Damn,” he said out loud. He’d forgotten the roses—he had planned to send them to Florentyna from the airport.

  Florentyna was given two messages just before lunch. The man from Sotheby’s phoned to say that she had been successful in her bid, and a college porter delivered Richard’s news. She was delighted by the first and disappointed by the second, although she smiled at the thought that Richard would be worrying about the roses. Thanks to Sotheby’s, she now had something for him he had wanted all his life.

  Florentyna had spent the morning in the formal graduation proceedings at the Tercentenary Theater. The sight of all three networks setting up their cameras on the lawn for the afternoon ceremony had made her feel even more nervous and she hoped no one had noticed that she had eaten almost nothing at lunch.

  At one forty-five, the overseers left for the yard, where alumni reunion classes had already gathered. She thought back, to her own years…Bella…Wendy…Scott…Edward…and now she had returned, as Edward had predicted, as Senator Kane. She took her seat on the platform outside the Tercentenary Theater next to President Horner of Radcliffe and looked down at the card on the other chair beside her. It read, “Mr. Richard Kane—husband of Senator Kane.” She smiled at how much that would annoy him, and scribbled underneath, “What took you so long?” She must remember to leave the card on the mantelpiece. Florentyna knew that if Richard arrived after the ceremony had begun he would have to find a seat on the lawn. The announcement of elections, conferring of honorary degrees and reports of gifts received by the university were followed by an address from President Bok. Florentyna listened as he introduced her. She searched the rows of audience in front of her as far as she could see but was still unable to spot Richard.

  “President Horner, distinguished visitors, ladies and gentlemen. It is a great honor for me today to present one of Radcliffe’s most distinguished alumnae, a woman who has captured the imagination of the American people. Indeed, I know many of us believe that Radcliffe will one day have two presidents.” Seventeen thousand guests burst into spontaneous applause. “Ladies and gentlemen, Senator Florentyna Kane.”

  Florentyna’s throat went dry when she rose from her seat. She checked her notes as the great television lights we
re switched on, momentarily blinding her, so that she could see nothing but a blur of faces. She prayed Richard’s was among them.

  “President Bok, President Horner. I stand before you more nervous now than I was when I first came to Radcliffe thirtythree years ago and couldn’t find the dining room for two days because I was too frightened to ask anyone.” The laughter eased Florentyna’s tension. “Now I see seated in front of me men and women and if I recall correctly from my Radcliffe rule book, men may only enter the bedrooms between the hours of three and five P.M. and must at all times keep both feet on the ground. If the rule still exists today, I am bound to ask how the poor things ever get any sleep.”

  The laughter continued for several seconds before Florentyna was able to start again. “More than thirty years ago I was educated at this great university and it has set the standard for everything I have tried to achieve in my life. The pursuit of excellence has always been to Harvard of paramount importance and it is a relief to find in this changing world that the standards attained today by your graduates are even higher than they were in my generation. There is a tendency among the old to say that the youth of today do not compare with their forefathers. I am reminded of the words carved on the side of the tombs of the Pharaohs. Translated, it reads: The young are lazy and preoccupied with themselves and will surely cause the downfall of the world as we know it.’”

  The graduates cheered while the parents laughed. “Winston Churchill once said: ‘When I was sixteen, I thought my parents knew nothing. When I was twenty-one, I was shocked to discover how much they had picked up in the last five years.’” The parents applauded and the students smiled. “America is often looked upon as a great monolithic land mass, with a vast centralized economy. It is neither of these things. It is two hundred and forty million people who make up something more diverse, more complicated, more exciting than any other nation on earth and I envy all of you who wish to play a role in the future of our country and feel sorry for those who do not. Harvard University is famous for its tradition of service in medicine, teaching, the law, religion and the arts. It must be thought a modern tragedy that more young people do not consider politics an honorable and worthwhile profession. We must change the atmosphere in the corridors of power so that the very brightest of our youth do not dismiss, virtually without consideration, a career in public life.

  “None of us has ever doubted for a moment the integrity of Washington, Adams, Jefferson or Lincoln. Why shouldn’t we today produce another generation of statesmen who will bring back to our vocabulary the words ‘duty,’ ‘pride’ and ‘honor’ without such a suggestion being greeted with sarcasm or scorn?

  “This great university produced John Kennedy, who once said when receiving an honorary degree from Yale, ‘And now I have the best of both worlds, a Harvard education and a Yale degree.’”

  When the laughter had died down, Florentyna continued: “I, Mr. President, have the best of every world, a Radcliffe education and a Radcliffe degree.”

  Seventeen thousand people rose to their feet and it was a considerable time before Florentyna could continue. She smiled as she thought how proud Richard would be because he had suggested that line in the bathtub and she had not been sure that it would work.

  “As young Americans, take pride in your country’s past achievements, but strive to make them nothing more than history. Defy old myths, break new barriers, challenge the future, so that at the end of this century, people will say of us that our achievements rank alongside those of the Greeks, the Romans and the British in advancing freedom and a just society for all people on this planet. Let no barriers be unassailable and no aims too high and when the crazy whirligig of time is over, let it be possible for you to say as Franklin D. Roosevelt did, ‘There is a mysterious cycle in human events. To some generations much is given, of other generations much is expected, but this generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.’”

  Once again, everyone on the lawn broke into spontaneous applause. When it subsided, Florentyna lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “My fellow alumni, I say to you, I am bored by cynics, I despise belittlers, I loathe those who think there is something sophisticated and erudite in running our nation down, because I am convinced that this generation of our youth, who will take the United States into the twenty-first century, has another rendezvous with destiny. I pray that many of them are present today.”

  When Florentyna sat down she was the only person seated. Journalists were to remark the next day that even the cameramen whistled. Florentyna looked down, aware that she had made a favorable impression on the crowd, but she still needed Richard for final confirmation. Mark Twain’s words came back to her: “Sorrow can take care of itself, but to get the true benefit of joy, you must share it.” As Florentyna was led off the stage, the students cheered and waved, but her eyes searched only for Richard. Making her way out of the Tercentenary Yard, she was stopped by dozens of people, but her thoughts remained elsewhere.

  Florentyna heard the words “Who will tell her?” while she was trying to listen to a student who was going to Zimbabwe to teach English. She swung around to stare at the troubled face of Matina Horner, the Radcliffe president.

  “It’s Richard, isn’t it?” said Florentyna quickly.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. He’s been involved in a car accident.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In Newton-Wellesley Hospital, about ten miles away. You must leave immediately.”

  “How bad it it?”

  “Not good, I’m afraid.”

  A police escort rushed Florentyna down the Massachusetts Turnpike to the Route 16 exit as she prayed, Let him live. Let him live.

  When the police car arrived outside the main entrance of the hospital she ran up the steps. A doctor was waiting for her.

  “Senator Kane, I’m Nicholas Eyre, chief of surgery. We need your permission to operate.”

  “Why? Why do you need to operate?”

  “Your husband has severe head injuries. And it’s our only chance to save him.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Yes, of course.” He led her quickly to the emergency room, where Richard lay unconscious beneath a plastic sheet, a tube in his mouth, his skull encased in stained white gauze. Florentyna collapsed onto the bedside chair and stared down at the floor, unable to bear the sight of her injured husband. Would the brain damage be permanent or could he recover?

  “What happened?” she asked the surgeon.

  “The police aren’t certain, but a witness said your husband veered across the divider on the turnpike for no apparent reason and collided with a tractor-trailer. There seems to have been no mechanical fault with the car he was driving, so they can only conclude he fell asleep at the wheel.”

  Florentyna steeled herself to raise her eyes and look again at the man she loved.

  “Can we operate, Mrs. Kane?”

  “Yes,” said a faint voice that only an hour before had brought thousands of people to their feet. She was led into a corridor and sat alone. A nurse came up: they needed a signature; she scribbled her name. How many times had she done that today?

  She sat alone in the corridor, a strange figure in an elegant dress, hunched up on the little wooden chair. She remembered how she had met Richard in Bloomingdale’s when she thought he had fallen for Maisie; how they first made love only moments after their first row and how they had run away and with the help of Bella and Claude she had become Mrs. Kane; the births of William and Annabel; that twenty-dollar bill that fixed the meeting in San Francisco with Gianni; returning to New York as partners to run the Baron and then Lester’s; how he had then made Washington possible; how she had smiled when he played the cello for her; how he laughed when she beat him at golf. She had always wanted to achieve so much for him and he had always been selfless in his love for her. He must live so that she could devote herself to making him well again.

  In times of helplessness one suddenly believes in God. Floren
tyna fell on her knees and begged for her husband’s life.

  Hours passed before Dr. Eyre returned to her side. Florentyna looked up hopefully.

  “Your husband died a few minutes ago, Mrs. Kane” was all the surgeon said.

  “Did he say anything to you before he died?” Florentyna asked.

  The chief of surgery looked embarrassed.

  “Whatever it was my husband said, I should like to know, Dr. Eyre.”

  The surgeon hesitated. “All he said, Mrs. Kane, was ‘Tell Jessie I love her.’”

  Florentyna bowed her head. The widow knelt alone and prayed.

  It was the second funeral of a Kane in Trinity Church in six months. William stood between two Mrs. Kanes dressed in black as the bishop reminded them that in death there is life.

  Florentyna sat alone in her room that night and cared no longer for this life. In the hall lay a package marked: “Fragile, Sotheby Parke Bernet, contents one cello, Stradivarius.”

  William accompanied his mother back to Washington on Monday. The news magazines at the stand at Logan Airport were ablaze with cover headlines from Florentyna’s speech. She didn’t even notice.

  William remained at the Baron with his mother for three days until she sent him back to his wife. For hours Florentyna would sit alone in a room full of Richard’s past. His cello, his photographs, even the last unfinished game of backgammon.

  Florentyna began to arrive at the Senate in midmorning. Janet couldn’t get her to answer her mail except for the hundreds of letters and telegrams expressing sorrow at Richard’s death. She failed to show up at committee meetings and forgot appointments with people who had traveled great distances to see her. On one occasion she missed presiding over the Senate—a chore senators took in turn when the Vice President was absent—for a defense debate. Even her most ardent admirers doubted if she would ever fully regain her impetuous enthusiasm for politics.

  As the weeks turned into months, Florentyna began to lose her best staffers, who feared she no longer had the ambition for herself that they had once had for her. Complaints from her constituents, low-key for the first few months after Richard’s death, now turned to an angry rumble, but still Florentyna went aimlessly about her daily routine. Senator Brooks quite openly suggested an early retirement for the good of the party, and continued to voice this opinion in the smoke-filled rooms of Illinois’s political headquarters. Florentyna’s name began to disappear from the White House guest lists and she was no longer at the cocktail parties held by Mrs. John Sherman Cooper, Mrs. Lloyd Kreegar or Mrs. George Renchard.