“It sounds like Susan is one of the pioneers in equal-but-separate education,” William said, sipping his iced tea.
“No, I don’t think so, at least as I understand equal-but-separate,” replied Janet. “These girls want to learn in the mainstream and have classes and all other activities with boys. It’s just that they want to have some privacy and some basic rules for living for which they can hold each other accountable. In fact, when you think about it, they’re saying that they don’t want to be ‘equal’ so much as they want to be safe and individually responsible.”
“Whoa!” smiled William. “Maybe they’ve started a new unequal-but-safe movement! But I don’t think it’ll go over too well with our cabinet, and particularly not with our vice president.”
“Well,” Janet continued, “I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘unequal,’ but perhaps ‘different.’ And the system of ‘different and protected’—but equal in rights and before God—seemed to work reasonably well for women, at least up until about thirty years ago, that is.”
William wanted to change the subject. “And how is Tommy?”
“He’s great,” Janet said. “You know he’ll be a senior this year, and he’s doing really well academically.”
“He went through an awkward stage at fourteen,” Richard added. “But thanks to God’s help and a lot of prayer he got into weight training, and six months later it was like something just clicked inside him. He found his coordination and his confidence. Now this is obviously an exaggeration, but it really seemed to happen overnight. He even got to where he could regularly hit home runs this spring, and the great day for Tommy was when the baseball coach asked him to play second base. You know what Tommy said? He told the coach ‘No, thanks’—he wanted to concentrate on hitting, and the outfield was just fine for him. For Tommy, that was quite a statement.”
“So how is this young man’s love life?” asked the president. “Should we be reintroducing your Tommy and our Katherine?”
Richard smiled, and he and Janet shared a glance. “That would be great, William. Who knows what might happen? But for now he’s got more local attention than he can handle, and one long distance love as well.”
“Who’s that?” Carrie asked.
“It’s a girl he’s seen every summer of his life on vacation in Vermont, Caroline Batten. She’s even flown in for some big dances, and he visited her over spring break. They have a lot in common, and I think they’re even trying to figure out how to go to the same college, or at least to schools near each other.”
“Sounds pretty serious,” Carrie mused. “Tommy has obviously grown a lot. Just remind him that Katherine is around in case this Caroline doesn’t work out.”
Richard smiled back. “It’s a deal. And of course the really great thing about Tommy, just like Susan, is that he knows the Lord.” Richard could see the president’s eyes squint slightly and a small frown develop on his face. Richard continued, “We gave both Susan and Tommy to the Lord three years ago, after we submitted to God. It was kind of late to do it, I guess, but his grace and power are infinite, and he literally continues to change both of them. It happens before our eyes, and we give him all the credit.” As he finished, William started to speak, but just then the special telephone rang in the adjoining living room.
“Please excuse me,” William said, as he stood up and walked through the open archway and across the hall to the private telephone next to the sofa. “Hello.” He expected to hear either a close family member or a very senior advisor.
“Mr. President, do you by any chance recognize my voice?”
The president was certain he was speaking to his party’s senior senator from Ohio, John Dempsey. “Yes, sure. Hello, John. Why on earth are you calling me here, at this hour? And how did you get this number?”
There was a pause. Then the senator spoke, slowly and emphatically. “I called you on this line because I don’t know which of your regular phones are tapped, and I doubt that you really know which ones are, despite what they may tell you. And I got this number the same way I get most things in this town. It comes naturally after being here all these years.”
William was surprised by the call and by the older man’s rough, disrespectful tone. “So what do you want?” he asked, trying to sound just as brusque.
“My other reason for calling you there is so you clearly understand that I have methods for discovering things. By the way, is your wife there, and those friends of yours from law school?”
“What’s this about, John?”
“It’s about you, you Southern hypocrite. All glad hands and, “This conversation is just between us,’ and all that other hogwash you use before you knife people in the back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Give me one of your old Southerners any day, someone with whom I totally disagreed all those years ago, but someone with whom I could debate, give and take, and respect as an honorable opponent. You’re of the new generation—and it’s not just Southerners—who smile and say nice things, then take the first opportunity they can to blow you away in a dark alley.”
“John, whatever is bothering you, you’ve got to be more specific. We have dinner guests, and I don’t have time to play twenty questions.”
“Well, you’d better take time to talk to me, or you could be in for a real surprise.”
William sat down on the sofa. “Okay, John. I’m all yours. Again, what is it?”
“It’s about telling me to open up to you for advice, and then when I did, putting out the bloodhounds to scare up anything you can to try to pressure me—blackmail me—to support all your we-know-what’s-best programs. Well, you can count me out.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You see, that’s the problem. Once you start lying, it’s hard to go back. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much else from you. But I hoped for a lot more.”
William turned to see Carrie standing in the open door. “Is everything all right?” she asked. William nodded his head and raised his hand to indicate that he would be rejoining them in a minute.
“Is that it, John? Is that why you called?”
“Almost. One more thing. There’s a young attorney in Charlottes—not quite as young as she used to be, but still very good looking—who has some really interesting things to say about you, Mr. President. In fact, she’s already said them, and I’m lucky enough to have her comments on tape, along with a signed affidavit. Does your wife know about those particular legal maneuvers, Mr. President?”
William’s blood froze and his hands turned sweaty. He closed his eyes and didn’t speak for almost thirty seconds, while his heart raced. “What...Who?... Who else has this information?” he finally asked in a hoarse whisper.
“I thought I lost you there for a minute,” Dempsey laughed. “I was about to call 911. Glad you’re still with us to savor the situation, Mr. President. Let’s just say that your history in this matter is known to a select group of us, but of course we could enlarge that circle of informed Americans in just a few hours.”
“So I guess we both might know about each other’s pasts.”
“You might. I do. And remember, my dear Mr. President, what you might find out about me happened many, many years ago; and I’m an old senator, about to go out to pasture. You, on the other hand, are a young, vigorous president with a wife and two kids. They might even make a hero out of a virile old man like me, even though now I’m very sorry for it. But they’ll do the math on you and figure out that you were fooling around and lying to your wife with children at home. Those kinds of revelations don’t do much for presidential credibility, much less for a marriage. So if you want to go toe-to-toe, it’s your move.”
William heard Carrie talking in the other room and suddenly visualized their family breaking up because he had been so stupid several years ago. He was angry, ashamed, frustrated, and powerless. All he could do was clen
ch his fist. After another pause he said, “No, I’m not going to make the first move. Where do we go from here, John?”
“I’m glad to hear that. As to where we go from here, I guess I’m still an honorable man, even when dealing with your sort. I guess it’s because I recognize my own faults. I’ve got a pretty strong Christian faith, despite my gruffness, and I won’t blackmail you like you’re trying to do to me. You go ahead and try to get your legislation past Congress any way you can, so long as you do it fair and honest, on top of the table and with words, not threats. You keep this bargain and learn to treat people by the Golden Rule, even if they disagree with you, and this little tape and affidavit will be handed to you on the day the first one of us leaves office. But if I hear about any more threats or blackmail—and I will hear—then I hate to think about all the tape players where this lady’s song might be singing. Do you understand me, Mr. President?”
“Can you control it that well yourself?”
“I think I can. But nothing is one hundred percent. So you’d better pray that I can.”
Carrie returned to the door, obviously concerned by her husband’s long absence. William took a deep breath and concluded for her hearing, “Okay, we’ll do it that way. Fine. I look forward to seeing you next week, and I’m glad we could work it out. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Mr. President. And enjoy your dinner.”
William returned the handset and waved at Carrie while wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Sorry. It was nothing that important. I don’t know why they called me now.” He suddenly felt very unclean and hollow, as if he were wearing a large sign which said “For years I cheated on you.”
She rarely pushed him when he didn’t offer more details, so she smiled and replied, “It’s okay. Anyway, are you ready for dessert and coffee before the movie?”
When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Is something wrong, dear?”
“Oh, no,” he said, standing up. “Everything is, uh, fine. Good. Yeah, of course.” But he made a mental note to call off Bob Horan first thing on Monday morning.
The two couples rejoined each other in the dining room for dessert and coffee. William apologized, “I’m sorry. Sometimes that happens. I guess it comes with the job. Now where were we?”
“Richard was telling us about how God had changed Susan and Tommy,” Carrie said, offering the cream to her husband.
Richard noticed that William didn’t frown this time, but stared at him. “So, anyway, I was just saying that it’s obvious to Janet and me that God has changed our children just as much as he changed us. His power is really amazing. Giving our lives to him three years ago was, on a scale of one to ten, a fifty. Of course, we’ve had some real problems,” Richard again looked at Janet, “but we now know that those problems are virtually nothing compared to spending eternity with him in heaven. Can you imagine what that’s going to be like?” Richard asked with obvious joy and enthusiasm.
Richard looked toward his friend William, expecting an answer. But William just stared back at him, stirring his coffee almost as if he were in a trance. After a moment, Carrie touched his sleeve, “William, are you okay?”
“What? Oh, yes. I mean, no, Richard. I really don’t have any idea what heaven might be like. Do you?”
“Well, I can’t tell you the colors on the walls,” he said, laughing, “but yes, there are many references in God’s Word to heaven, so we do have some idea. The main thing is that God and Jesus will be there, and that’s good enough for me.”
William seemed to be thinking, then said, “And what about hell? Do you believe in hell? Does the Bible even mention hell?”
This time Janet spoke. “Yes, William, the Bible mentions hell many times. It’s described as a place of pain and suffering. Can you imagine that for eternity? But like Richard said about heaven, the main thing about hell is that God and Jesus won’t be there. Can you visualize spending eternity without God, in the hands of Satan?”
William tried to smile. “Well, when I get to that point I think I’ll just check the box that says ‘neither of the above and go off to nothing.”
Richard spoke again. “That’s depressing enough in itself, William, when heaven is available. But unfortunately the Bible doesn’t mention anything about that third option. Janet and I came to realize three years ago that we all are definitely spiritual beings. We’re not just flesh and blood. Each of us certainly feels that spirit inside him. And that spirit is eternal. So the option you just mentioned doesn’t exist. God, who made us, has mandated that our spirits will spend eternity either in heaven or in hell. That’s it. And the Bible even says there’s a huge gulf between them, and specifically that no spirit can go from one to the other. So where you wind up, forever, William, depends on what you do here.”
A frown formed on William’s face. “I know. I’ve heard that fundamentalist stuff many times, starting as a teenager with my sister Mary. Look, I’ve been reasonably good”—the memory of his conversation with John Dempsey flashed through his mind, and he suddenly missed a breath—“so if it’s, uh, what I’ve done here that counts I feel, uh, pretty good about that,” he finished, but with less enthusiasm than he would have said those same words an hour before.
Janet said, “It’s not what you’ve done that really matters, William. None of us can possibly do well enough or be good enough on our own to make it to heaven. We’re not just making this up; it’s what God’s Word has said over centuries. It’s much simpler than doing anything. It’s about giving up, genuinely asking for forgiveness, and submitting to God’s Son as the ruler of your life. That message is so simple and so powerful that the only reason Richard and I can now imagine we didn’t hear it sooner is that we must have had voices inside us, like doubt and pride and envy, blocking it out. It’s hard to realize, I know, but just because something is simple doesn’t mean it’s not also very powerful.”
William seemed to slump a bit in his chair, and he stared at his coffee. After a long silence he finally looked up at Richard and said, “I...I don’t know. Can life really be as simple as you say it is? My life certainly isn’t. It seems to be one problem after the other. I think your answer is too simple for the life I lead.”
Richard spoke. “I didn’t say, and more importantly the Bible doesn’t say, that life is simple. Rather that the solution to living an abundant life, with all its complexity, both now and for eternity, is simple—it’s belief in the lordship of God and his Son, Jesus Christ Believe me, William, we wouldn’t be telling you this if we hadn’t felt his amazing grace and power in our own lives. It’s very, very real. If nothing else, Susan and Tommy are visible, living proof of that fact.”
Williams gaze moved above Richard’s head as if he were looking to some distant point. Finally he said, “Well, it’s very, intere— I guess everybody’s been telling me the same thing. Anyway, I guess it’s about time for our movie.” William looked at his guests, but his eyes still appeared to be glazed over. Then he shook his head, as if forcing himself back to his surroundings. “Has anybody got room left for popcorn?” he asked.
As the four of them descended in the elevator and walked down the hall to the theater, talking again about everyday matters, it occurred to Carrie that for the first time in her memory William had listened to the gospel message and then actually tried to discuss it.
ATLANTA—Later that same evening Bruce and Rebecca were sitting down to a meal of fettucine, salad, and Italian bread in the dining area of her apartment. The many lights of Atlanta stretched out below them, and the television was turned on without sound, anticipating the start of a late-night Braves game from the West Coast. They were continuing their tradition of a Friday night workout at the Sports Club followed by a quiet meal at her apartment.
“Would you like some wine?” Bruce asked, opening the refrigerator.
“Yes, I think I would tonight,” Rebecca replied. “Isn’t there some Chardonnay?”
He found two glasses, poured their wine, and sat down acro
ss from her. By tradition two candles on the television were the only light during their meal, emphasizing the effect of the view from her highrise. Months earlier this scene alone would have led them to make love passionately; but time and difficult events had created a routine which no longer always included passion. As they ate, each of them talked about their day at work, and then Bruce complimented Rebecca. “That trainer was really pushing tonight on the step. I was surprised you could keep up so well after taking the time off for your parents’ funeral. I’ve got to hand it to you, Rebecca, you’re tough.”
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine. “It was a good workout, you’re right. And I needed it. But you know, hearing you say that reminds me of how tough everyone is always saying I am. I’m supposed to be tough at work dealing with life and death every day. Everyone said how tough we were to come through our parents’ murders. And I’ve tried for years to hold off nature with tough workouts.” She looked at Bruce and shook her head slightly, a rueful smile on her face. “But you know, Bruce, right now your tough old broad isn’t feeling very tough at all. In fact, I wish there was someone I could just give all of this to—the problems at the hospital, my parents’ deaths, and my fear of growing old—and curl up in his arms like a little girl and just not have to be tough ever again. Can you imagine how I feel?”
The last few weeks had brought a significant change in their relationship. The sudden loss of Rebecca’s parents propelled her unexpected family concerns into the middle of their relationship, whereas in the past they had focused on Bruce’s problems. As for Bruce’s mother, the president had instructed his surgeon general to write a letter of waiver on the requirement that Bruce’s father be in an approved institution in order for his mother to receive points for looking after him, which then raised her total to just the amount required for her brain tumor operation. It was scheduled for the next Wednesday, and Bruce would be leaving Sunday night to fly to Boston to be with his parents. These developments had altered their relationship and removed Bruce’s main cause for complaining.
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