The President

by Parker Hudson

  She stopped, looked up at him, and smiled. “Sounds good. Is that an invitation?”

  He hesitated for a moment and then smiled back. “Sure. Let’s have dinner together. I don’t think we’ll start too many rumors after three weeks at Gitmo, a perfect missile shoot, and a ‘date’ with hundreds of fellow officers, all out in the open.”

  “I’ll try to control myself,” she said laughingly, “but it has been three weeks, and I do like older men.”

  “Then I’ll both participate and chaperon at the same time, being so old. Let’s leave in about an hour.”

  “Fine. Will you knock at my stateroom, or shall I knock at yours?”

  “I’ll try to navigate the fifty feet and the one ladder between us, even at my age,” he replied. “But don’t keep us out too late.”

  That had been four hours, several drinks, a great dinner, and many dances earlier. The mood among the Fortson’s officers was one of joy and satisfaction. As the night, the long-standing fatigue, and the alcohol took their toll, most of them departed for some much needed rest. But Hugh and Teri seemed to gain energy from each other’s presence, the electricity between them obvious to both, delicious in its forbiddeness. They danced and drank and laughed like two college students on a first date.

  Wet with perspiration from their dancing and needing fresh air, they left the bar and walked out onto one of the club’s terraced porches, cooled by the breeze off the ocean. They looked out at the beautiful view of lights and stars.

  As they reached the low stone wall at the far end of the terrace, they were alone in the dark. Teri stood so close to Hugh he could see the shine in her eyes. “Thanks, Hugh,” Teri said. “What a great evening. I needed to let my hair down. It hasn’t been easy at this pace. I feel like maybe we finally proved our worth, after being on board four months.”

  “Yes, you and your division did a great job, Teri. Everyone’s noticed what you’ve accomplished. You really came through. I think the captain and XO are rightly impressed with your abilities.”

  “Thanks. But a lot of it’s because of your help and guidance. You’ve been a big help. And you’re a pretty good man yourself.”

  They stood looking into each others eyes, smelling the perfume from the wildflowers on the hillside mixing with the clean scent of the ocean below. Knowing he shouldn’t, but believing he could control it, Hugh reached out and took Teri in his arms. Without another word he bent forward and kissed her.

  She seemed to hesitate for an instant, then kissed him back, deeply and passionately, moving her arms up and around his neck.

  After a long moment they broke their kiss but hardly moved as they looked again into each other’s eyes. “Hmm,” she whispered, cocking her head slightly. “You do that well.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmured, feeling a lightness in his head and his heart beginning to race. He kneaded the small of her back, and she melted into him. They kissed again, even longer this time.

  When they finally stopped kissing, she placed her head on his shoulder. “Where is this going, Hugh?” she whispered.

  “I...I don’t know,” he whispered in reply. But suddenly he had a mental image of the short distance between their two staterooms on the ship. No one would ever know.

  “Hugh, you’re one of the most wonderful men I’ve ever known,” she said, with her head still on his shoulder. “I think you’re great at what we do. You’re kind but firm. A real leader. I... But you’re married and have kids. There’s no future for us together—just a mess.”

  Holding Teri close, he felt as if the temperature on the terrace had risen ten degrees. His heart was pounding, and he visualized the two of them in his stateroom. It was excruciating, but her words started his return to earth.

  Still holding her, he took a deep breath. She felt so good. No one would ever know...I bet she’s incredible. He breathed deeply again, then gently pushed her back and smiled.

  “Teri...Teri. This isn’t easy, is it? Okay. Let’s talk weapons department operating procedures.”

  She shared his laugh, which helped ease the tension. Still looking into his eyes, she stepped back, took his hand, and leaned toward the main building. “Come on, Lieutenant Commander. I think we’ve both operated enough for one evening. Morning is going to come real early.”

  They made their way back into the officers club and said good night to the few friends who remained there. They stuck to small talk on the walk to the ship, but Hugh kept his arm around her.

  Back at the ship they stopped at the door to her stateroom and Hugh joked, “My place or yours?”

  “Neither one tonight, old man.” She laughed. “I don’t have a headache, but my fire control computer needs checking at six. Don’t get lost on the way home.”

  As Hugh ascended the ladder to his stateroom, he believed he heard Tom Dobbs and a vaguely familiar voice behind the door of the flag cabin. I guess everybody’s celebrating tonight. But he blocked that mental image with another thought of Teri.

  Twenty minutes later, after a very cold shower, Hugh crawled into bed, torn by feelings of both excitement and guilt. He read his Bible, then put out the light. He hadn’t kissed another woman since he and Jennifer began dating, and he felt terrible. But as he was dozing off, he reflected on what had happened, and it occurred to him: She didn’t say never...just not tonight. The mental image of their hug and long kisses flashed back into his mind, like a bolt of lightning. He started to say his prayers, then felt oddly unworthy, and stopped.

  WASHINGTON—The next morning President Harrison and his chief domestic advisors were gathered in the Oval Office for their first legislative strategy session in six weeks. Seated at the head of the circle of chairs around the coffee table, William led off.

  “I hope everyone has enjoyed a bit of vacation with your families and a rest from the D.C. grind. Now that it’s late August I’m afraid it’s back to work in earnest. Jerry, Ted, has there been any response to our compromise initiative?”

  “Some, Mr. President, but not enough to assure passage of a program with the kinds of initiatives we’ve wanted,” the chief of staff replied.

  “William,” the vice president injected, her arms folded in front of her, “you know I’ve disagreed with this new approach since you first proposed it a month ago. Sending our team out, hat in hand, to grovel before power-drunk old senators who long ago stopped knowing what’s best for our people is just the opposite of what we should be doing! It didn’t make sense. Now it’s accomplished nothing, as I predicted, and I say we go back to hardball right now—immediately. Take away funding for whatever projects are controlled by our administration in their states. Find out who they’re sleeping with. Blow some whistles. See how they like that approach to move them off their duffs!”

  There was silence around the table as everyone weighed the harsh tone of the vice president’s words. William noticed that Chris Wright and Robert Valdez were nodding while Patricia spoke, and he wondered what the others were thinking as all heads turned in his direction. He paused and looked calmly around the table before he spoke.

  “Patricia, there’s no reason to be so vindictive.” He noted that her eyes widened. He turned first to Jerry Richardson, then to the others on his team. “We can only work with what we have.” More curious looks. “It’s frustrating, but maybe there’s a reason for this. I don’t know. But it looks like, despite our hard work and very best efforts, our legislative package just can’t be passed.” Silence greeted his assessment.

  He continued. “I’ve thought a lot about it over the last month, while we’ve been probing for compromises during the recess, and I’ve concluded that rather than play hardball”—and he looked directly at the vice president—“we should be openly candid about it. Instead of huffing and puffing and pointing fingers, as both parties have done for decades, let’s work with our opponents to get the best package we can, as close to our goals as they’ll accept, and then try to pass it.

  “But then let�
��s go one step beyond. Quietly, sanely, without throwing rocks, let’s spell out for the American people why this legislation is a compromise. Let’s show them clearly what we want to accomplish and why—and then, with help from the opposition, show exactly why others disagree with us.” As William spoke, Ted Braxton’s mouth dropped open.

  “We’ll show the costs, the risks, and the potentially negative effects on the budget and the debt if our estimates are wrong. And we’ll show the positive effects if our estimates are right. But I want this done calmly, with help from the other side, so that we present as honest and as balanced a view as possible, without political trappings.

  “When that’s been done—and we ought to be able to do it in about a month, don’t you think?—I’ll invite the leader of the opposition in the Senate to join me for a televised session in which the two of us will again explain these differences. I’ll tell the American people that as long as they continue to elect people to Congress and the White House with such differing approaches to running the country, this kind of stalemate and compromise is inevitable. Hopefully Warner Watts will concur, and we can both say that we’re proposing the best legislation we can, given our different philosophies.”

  No one moved or spoke, and William continued. “In short, our team will tell the American people the truth, and do the best we can with what we have. Then we’ll get back to running the government as efficiently and cost-consciously as we can, and concentrate on foreign policy and the things that the executive branch is supposed to do. Oh, and we’ll look forward to next November’s elections, when maybe, if we treat them with intelligence and respect, the American people will elect more men and women who agree with us, if that’s what they want”

  There was silence around the circle of advisors. No one moved. William waited. Finally, Jerry Richardson leaned forward. “Do you really think that will work, Mr. President?”

  “Do I think the truth will work?”

  “Uh, yes. I guess so. And not defending our program.”

  William’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t say that we’re not defending our program—just the opposite, really. But I said that from now on we’re going to do it in a balanced, calm, and logical way, rising to higher ground by trying to show both sides of the issue, like leaders should, and by not treating the opposition as the enemy, but rather as the mostly intelligent, patriotic people they are.”

  That was too much for the vice president. “I can’t believe this. What’s happened to you? If you give them an inch, they’ll destroy our programs completely. We’ll accomplish nothing. We’ve got to fight with everything we’ve got if there’s going to be change in this country. Go on national television with Warner Watts and throw in the towel? That’s crazy. Our supporters will rightly feel betrayed.”

  All heads turned back to William. He again paused before speaking. “Patricia, it’s hard to explain, but I guess I’ve had a change of heart. I’ve been reading and thinking—even praying, as hard as that may be for you all to believe—and I just think we’ve been going about this all wrong. Not just us—both parties. For years. The American people aren’t stupid. They can think beyond thirty-second sound bites. Let’s tell them the truth and give them our best projections, pro and con, then let them decide. Maybe our program won’t be enacted until after the elections fourteen months from now. Or maybe never. But perhaps we can at least move the discussion on this and other issues back to an intelligent debate, instead of a media shouting match. And ultimately it’s up to them to decide anyway, not us.”

  “But they elected us—” the vice president started to protest, when the president raised his hand and smiled.

  “Yes, and I guess if I have to pull rank, they elected me president, Patricia. You and I can discuss strategies by ourselves later, if you want. But for now, that’s how I want to approach the new legislative session. Jerry, I’d like you, Ted, and Robert to put your heads together with your staff’s and write up what you think can really get through Congress, based on your recent conversations. When it’s ready, we’ll call in Warner, and Bill Phillips from the House, and go over this strategy with them. We’ll give them a week or so to improve our portrayal of the two views and the compromise, and then hopefully we can go on television together and finally pass it. Please have our part ready in a week, if you can. Is that realistic?”

  “Yes sir, Mr. President,” the chief of staff nodded.

  “Then that should do it for today,” William concluded, rising from his chair. The others rose as well. The vice president turned and left the room. The others lingered and spoke among themselves as they slowly filed out, a new level of energy apparent from their conversations.

  When they were alone, Jerry Richardson stood next to the president by the open door and said, “That was amazing. So simple and unexpected. I agree. It really might work. And it’ll certainly be refreshing. How did you come to it?”

  William thought and then said. “I guess I just followed your mother’s advice.”

  As Jerry left and the president turned, Barbara Morton came up behind him. “Mr. President, this is for you. I’ve been holding it myself for almost an hour. It came in on our private fax line.”

  William could tell that his oldest friend in the office was agitated. He took the manilla folder from her, opened it, read the contents, and stopped smiling.

  Greetings:

  Enclosed is a picture of the warhead so that you may see the progress we have made with our modifications. Everything is on schedule. Unless you want millions of Americans to die unnecessarily, you must agree to our requests as soon as you receive them. We send you these messages so that you will believe us when we make our final communication to you. The fate of your people is in your hands, which is more of a chance than you have given us. We will communicate again soon.

  The Council

  She looked up at him questioningly, a note of real concern on her face. “What does that mean?” she whispered, “And is that a picture of a bomb?”

  He glanced at the faxed picture as he felt the blood draining from his head and his breathing became short. “What? Uh, oh yes, it is, Barbara. But it’ll be all right,” he managed to smile. “We know about it, and everything’s under control,” he reassured her. “Please get Vince Harley at the Pentagon on the secure line for me. Thanks.”

  He turned and took the folder with its contents into the Oval Office.

  HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA—Congressman Trent Patterson was home in his district that Friday. He resided in a small townhouse since his former wife had taken their home in the messy divorce. But this afternoon he was in his congressional office, finishing an interview with a local newspaper reporter, Mark Aiken.

  “So you think the president’s domestic program will be passed soon in Congress?” Aiken asked.

  “I said it ought to...it really ought to. But we’re stalled, no question about that. We hope to find ways to move forward in Congress right after the summer recess.”

  “Okay. Turning to foreign policy for a minute, have you received any feedback on your recent call for U. S. reconsideration of the U.N. resolutions on Israel?”

  “Yes, some. Both pro and con.”

  “We ran a story on the strong negative reaction you suffered from the leaders in the Jewish community.”

  “I wouldn’t use the term ‘suffered.’ And besides, that’s the ‘leaders.’ We’ve also received many letters from Jewish people in the district who support our call for realism and peace. They know it’s time to move on to some sort of settlement for everyone’s sake. And remember, we only called for a reconsideration. Maybe it won’t pass. But at least we should discuss it and not bury our heads in the sand.”

  “Were you surprised by the support you received in Congress?”

  Patterson nodded, picked up his pencil, and wrote several names on the legal pad in front of him. “Frankly, I was amazed. I’ve, uh, just written down the names of—let’s see—fifteen men and women in the House and S
enate, some of them key leaders, who went out of their way to thank us for bringing this subject to light again and who told us they’d support the reconsideration. To be honest, I think we’ve uncovered an issue that will receive strong consideration in this coming year and significant support. I’m surprised and pleased that so many of my colleagues agreed with me on this important issue.”

  12

  Faith in the transcendent, sovereign God was in the public philosophy—the American consensus. America’s story opens with the first words of the Bible, “In the beginning God...” We are truthfully one nation “under God” and our institutions “presuppose a Divine Being,” wrote Associate justice William O. Douglas in 1966. Only a nation founded on theistic presuppositions would adopt a first amendment to ensure the free exercise of all religions or of none. The government would be neutral among the many denominations and no one church would become “the state church. “But America and its institutions of government could not be neutral about God.

  THE CAPITOL: A PICTORIAL HISTORY

  U.S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE, 1979

  Thursday, September 27

  One Month Later

  WASHINGTON—“We’re almost there, Jen,” Hugh said encouragingly as he turned off the interstate and headed their minivan for the White House. “If the weather holds we should get in quite a bit of tennis this weekend.”

  “Hmm,” Jennifer replied. She never failed to enjoy the sights of Washington, but her mood was subdued by Hugh’s upcoming departure for six months in the Mediterranean at the end of the week.

  Hugh had tried his best to be upbeat on their drive from Norfolk—in fact he had tried to be upbeat for the past several weeks, knowing that his deployment was coming. This would be the seventh major separation of their marriage, he had calculated, but they still didn’t come any easier. Leaving Jennifer with their three children was tough for a week, but he knew that a six-month separation meant she would have to be both mother and father to them. He hoped that the church they had joined would mean a new network of friends and support for her.