The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  She couldn’t cut him off, after all, he was who he was, but her face showed she was not inclined to take credit. She replied with a more respectful rebuff.

  “Sir, I appreciate your sentiment, but I don’t remember it.” She smiled and shrugged; without realizing it, she had squashed the sides of the envelope which was still clamped in her hands.

  He asked, softly, but she heard him very clearly,

  “And do you remember saving my father?”

  Here we go, she thought, but based on her crash course lessons the last few days, she made herself resist the urge to reject this conversation and its implications outright. But she had to be honest.

  “I don’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how much you know or expect...”

  “Well, you have a few very cooperative advocates, my father being one...and I’m a quick study. I think I know as much as I can about how things have been for you, but I’m sure I don’t know it all.” He treaded very lightly. He suppressed the urgency in his chest, likening this to a delicate surgery. The fact that he sincerely wanted to know this woman helped Wing pace himself, but he also knew his time was very limited.

  “Mr. President, I don’t think I even know it all, and the more I learn, the less I understand.” It was impossible not to feel somewhat at ease around this man; he emitted sincerity, but he also emitted purpose. If he wanted her help, she felt like a fraud even being there.

  “Sir, with all due respect, why am I here?”

  He smiled and checked himself. He wanted to get right to the point, but he still wasn’t sure what he would ask of her – and that wasn’t the best starting point anyway, so he said.

  “Forgive me if I seem unclear – the truth is, I need your help, but I’m not sure how.” The quiver in his voice was barely detectable, but it brought him into her sphere with a fell swoop; Jeremy’s comment on the plane flashed through her mind. While she did not want this responsibility – however vague it may be, it did put her at ease that this man, too, was looking for answers. She almost relaxed a little until he said, “But it’s incredibly important,” and glancing at his watch, he cleared his throat and said with a somewhat apologetic look, “And we have about an hour to figure it out...unless someone comes through that door with their hair on fire, which means we’re out of time.”

  She tensed, but also felt suddenly and strangely collegial with the man of such immense power.

  “As long as it’s not world peace we’re talking about...” Her comment was offhand, but when he leaned back and gave her a nervous smile and no answer, she sighed and placed the crunched envelope on the table.

  “I wasn’t serious...”

  “I was.” His answer was dealt like a strategic discard in a high spirited card game.

  “Sir... ”

  “Wing...” He’d cut her off, pointing to his chest.

  She responded to his one word request with raised eyebrows, telling him that would not happen. She wasn’t ready to call him that, but she would level with him.

  “Mr. President – I feel like you just placed the fate of the world on my shoulders ...like I have the key...and I didn’t ask for it. You, however, do have it on your shoulders...and you did ask for it.”

  He shook his head.

  “No...no, I don’t think I did.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have run for the top dog in the free world…. I think this is part of the deal. You know. World peace, and all.” She countered.

  “I still think you share this territory.” His response was straightforward.

  “You know, Sir...Jesus himself didn’t even pull that off.” She was shocked by her own words, but they seemed to be the best example she had to depict the gravity of what he was asking of her....of them.

  His answer was very direct, borderline stern.

  “That’s a matter of opinion, Johnnie. And he still could if only people would believe.”

  Silence.

  She finally said, “I don’t do this by choice...I don’t even know how to turn it on, and if I did, I assure you, I’d turn it off...”

  “Johnnie – I ask you, no beg you, to just consider something...well, outrageous. And, whether you like it or not, your track record suggests you are something of a saver...”

  “At least you didn’t say ‘savior’...” She replied, falling into the mode of a real discussion. And while she didn’t have the unwelcome surreal feeling she’d come to dread, she had another feeling – one of serendipity; why did she feel like she knew this man better than she possibly could?

  “I see little difference. Saver, savior – one who makes bad things go away...it’s all semantics.” The playing field continued to shift...it was almost level when he shockingly stated,

  “Look, if I can be a gay President, you can be a messiah. Really. I know you can.” He had actually surprised himself; his orientation was unknown to everyone but himself. Until now. But when he played, he played instinctively and to win and this last bit of information seemed to break every obstacle between them.

  She snorted, completely forgetting where she was, and ran her hand under her nose. This guy was a hoot, she thought, as she breathed in the moment…suddenly realizing he wasn’t laughing too. He was just smiling – almost uncomfortably,

  “What? Really? I KNEW IT!! I knew it. Wow. Okay, no I didn’t.” She smiled back at him. “Really?”

  He shrugged sheepishly. “Haven’t had much time to date…but if I did, I suppose it would be more like Ron Reagan Jr. than Nancy Jr. …”

  Done. He’d born his soul, now maybe they could deal. She, however, wasn’t finished with the subject.

  “Why haven’t you come out?” She asked. He looked at her, surprised only for a second.

  “Why haven’t YOU?” He responded. They both leaned back, a bit harried, and regarded one another. She had, indeed, worked hard to conceal her world.

  “Touche.” She said, leaning to reach for a crystal glass filled with water.

  He glanced at his watch and swallowed.

  “Johnnie – even though you don’t take credit for things you’ve done...the things you do, you do them nonetheless. And wouldn’t you agree that the one thing we know for sure, is that these actions require your proximity, if not your effort?”

  Unsure of where he was going, but knowing their direction was becoming more serious, she gave him the courtesy of a sober response. She found that she wanted to help this man...but she also wanted to help herself, and their courses seemed to join.

  “Yes...and until the last couple of incidents, I think I was always alone with –well, you know, whoever was involved. I don’t know if that makes a difference.” As she looked into his eyes, she saw the spark of deep intellect for which the President was known.

  “It matters, and it matters that we also know now you can impact larger numbers. We know what you can do when you don’t believe you can do it...but what if you believed? Or...what if someone else believed, just enough, going into it...”

  She looked toward the bright windows as she considered his statement. Her natural response was to shoot him down, but she couldn’t, because neither of his suggestions had been disproven. She had been so firmly planted in denial and the fact that she hadn’t initiated any of the acts herself, that she had not seriously considered the implications of the alternative. But she was doubtful – no longer of the power, but of herself. She looked back at him, all defenses down, and spoke as honestly as she could.

  “I’m not that strong. I ...”

  “I am.” Was his simple response. They held a long gaze.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and she felt weeks of thoughts, fears, and revelations wash over her and was still not on firm ground when the waters subsided. She finally spoke.

  “I want to help you. But I want to help myself...” He looked surprised, but was encouraged by her direction.

  “Name your price...” He spoke quickly; with no idea what this woman wanted, it was worth the world to him to deliver.
Her response was short and to the point.

  “Anonymity. And I just want my life back after this, no matter what happens.” She knew he could only deliver half of her request, if that, but the urgent need for total honestly permeated the air.

  He stood, and crossed to her side of the couch, crouched in front of her and placed his hand on her arm. Johnnie Carter’s face was inches from the President’s, but what she saw was a face she could trust, and what she felt was an unexpected and almost inconceivable sense of peace and conviction.

  This time she looked at his watch, which was right in front of her.

  “Dude...” She raised her eyes to his. They were very short on time.

  He steadied himself on the table to stand and his hand landed on the envelope she’d couriered from James. Their eyes met.

  “It’s for you.” Was all she said as he lifted the envelope and sat next to her.

  “Johnnie, we are on the verge of another world war, and I do not exaggerate. One day ago, my plan was to get all the players together – in Vienna, and get you there.” Her facial response would have been humorous, if not for the subject. It was somewhere between indignation and wonder.

  He had one hand in the envelope, but quickly placed the other in her shoulder in a move of confidence. He spoke to her as if she were a peer.

  “I was grasping at straws, maybe, but it was just an idea based on the potential of your impact. You know...proximity...and belief...and how, maybe, the greater the need – the greater the power –and that perhaps they’re all proportionate; a few days ago you took a leap from saving one to saving hundreds...all because you were there. I guess it’s a theory, if that’s what you’d call it. And I can’t escape the notion that all roads have brought us together. Bottom line is, I just hoped if you were there, at the summit....,” he looked away and sighed.

  “... well, anyway,” he removed his hand and turned his attention to the contents of the envelope as he spilled them on the table, “Things have escalated, are escalating, and the summit will never happen.”

  She looked at him, but he stared at the items on the table. All she saw were old school photos of herself at different ages, singularly stapled to four individual sheets of paper; she was oblivious as to why her brother sent them. She was equally oblivious as to why the President had become quiet, his eyes narrowing to read the print on each page. She couldn’t see what he saw, but the significance of what he read spread across his face.

  He’d just scanned the last page when the door opened across the room. Although their time was up, he loudly asked for a few more minutes over his shoulder and she heard the door discreetly close.

  He looked excited, but nervous and he stuck the items back in the envelope and turned to look Johnnie directly in the eye.

  “Do you trust me?” He asked urgently, but firmly.

  She only had one answer, and she only knew how to answer honestly.

  “Implicitly.” This time he grasped her hand and his dark, intense eyes probed her lighter, very round ones.

  “More importantly...do you trust this?” He referred to the thing which still had no name. The world around them seemed to have narrowed to a bubble and she heard her own voice in the vacuum.

  “I don’t think I have any choice.” Their pact had been sealed and the invisible bubble popped; they were once again in the Oval Office as he stood and said,

  “It’s show time...just go with me on this, will you?” He still did not know their exact course, but he knew it was time. And without waiting for an answer, he took the envelope and went to open the door as she stood with hesitant anticipation.

  ____________________________________________________________

  “They want to know when I’ll be back to work…even though they are already running a story in today’s issue on the JFK thing, they want me to pick up on the angel angle about – guess who? Only they are still guessing. Remind me to call and quit.”

  It was early morning and Byron had just listened to his phone messages from the Constellation editor from the day before. The same calls may have gotten a reaction out of him only days before, but on this day they were background noise in Byron’s world.

  He and Margie sat in their robes in the motel room as they tried to absorb the calamities extolled by various news casts. Pushing the phone aside, Byron switched from one news channel to another and the news only seemed to get worse. Nuclear attacks, threats from China, and American forces ready to act on the order.

  Byron set the remote control on the bed next to him and raked his hair with unusual gruffness; his head jerked when his nails scraped deeply into the scalp. He didn’t know what he expected to find with the incessant channel surfing and rationally knew they wouldn’t see Johnnie’s photo in this array of news casts, but he also felt disappointed. What was the point in all they’d discovered? What was to become of this? What was to become of the world, for that matter?

  He absently rubbed the spot on his head which had taken the deepest gauge when Margie reached across him for their cell phone. He was too submerged in thought to ask her who she was calling, but honed in immediately when he heard her greet Wei.

  “I know better than to ask how you are....yes. I think we all feel that way.”

  Margie listened to Wei and when she noticed her husband eavesdropping, she took the opportunity to signal a request for him to lower the TV volume.

  She nodded and smiled, although Wei couldn’t see her actions, as she replied, “We’re still in Toledo....right. Yes, well I can’t imagine how you feel right now – as a citizen and a father.”

  She was quiet again, as she picked at the edge of her robe tie, listening intently, suddenly shooting a glance at Byron in apparent reaction to something Wei had said. Byron wished she were on speaker phone.

  “...Really? Well, Byron mentioned you were going to call her brother last night and we knew, as of last night, that she was still going…but under the circumstances, we thought...” She quieted again, unaware that her husband appeared to have several armies of ants in his pants as he tried to ascertain what was being said. Patience had never been his strong suit, besides the fact that he was envious she’d just cut to the chase to learn what they wanted to know while he had relied on fourth party information offered on the news.

  Her worried expression relaxed and looked somewhat wondrous, when Byron couldn’t stand it anymore and loudly whispered, “Well?!”

  She winked at him and held one finger up.

  “I know you didn’t have to share that, Wei, but we deeply appreciate it. We appreciate you.” Quiet again. Byron was pretty sure his head would explode as he leapt from the bed and pulled off his suddenly too-warm terry cloth robe and began to pace.

  “You know you don’t have to thank us for anything...and, for the record, as hard as this all is, we are glad it’s him...and that it’s you. You are a fine father.”

  Whatever Wei’s response was, Margie laughed and asked that he keep them posted, promising to do the same. She had no sooner terminated the call, than Byron burst out, unable to control his personal volume. From behind her she heard,

  “WELL?!? Did she go? What’s going on?” Margie didn’t have to turn around because he nearly landed in front of her, ending his pace with a spread legged stance, fists on hips. Wearing nothing but his bright green, leaf-patterned boxer shorts and hair sprouting in all directions, he looked like a geriatric Peter Pan.

  She thought better of telling him as much, instead, telling him what he wanted to hear.

  “She’s there...at least as of last night, he, the President, was still planning on seeing her today. James Cain told Wei this morning that she flew out first thing. Wei hasn’t talked to the President today for obvious reasons...but if things are on schedule, she’s with him right now.”

  Byron’s visible agitation faded, but he said nothing because didn’t know what to say...or to think. Part of him clung to a childlike hope that this thing was real, that it was all connected, and
was going to have a happy – or at least, survivable ending. But as he moved toward the bed and sat silently next to his wife, the distant vision of an innocent little girl twirling so freely on the schoolyard filled his mind.

  What had he done? Was this right? What would become of her now?

  Margie found his hand, and they leaned into each other and, together, they dared to hope.

  _____________________________________________________________

  Since Johnnie’s departure, Betsy hadn’t left Sandy’s side other than to lie outside the bathroom door during his many trips. When able, Sandy would pop his head out of the bedroom to see if James had heard anything. His misery was compounded when he considered he had abandoned his post with the woman who trusted him most.

  Although James had literally been up all night and would not go to the office that morning, he didn’t sleep now. He jumped when his home phone rang; the number was reserved only for close friends and associates and he wondered if it was Jeremy.

  It was, instead, Paul Leo. He called to see how Johnnie had fared after the fateful hypnosis session. The doctor was stunned to hear that she was now at the White House and why. James stared at his computer screen as his friend’s next words immediately exposed his own gnawing fears.

  “James, no disrespect intended, but don’t you think you’re putting too much on her? She’s had no time, in weeks, really, to adjust and heal – and she still has no concrete answers. Yesterday alone, would have taken out your average person...”

  “There’s nothing average about her, Paul.” James quick response was spontaneous, and slightly defensive. Although he was typically a man of action rather than worry, this morning was different. Since returning from the airport and seeing the news, he’d battled nearly suffocating apprehension. As he talked, he scanned the internet for most current updates. His mind fired on all cylinders, even in his state of fatigue. “And I’m not putting her through this, honestly, I think my role in this is to ease the way she would have taken with or without me.”