I pulled over a stool to sit by Andrew. David brought a chair.
“Before you sit down, could one of you get me some water?” Andrew smiled, his eyes still dilated from medication. “Pulling the tubes out wasn’t fun, and I’ve got a feeling the pain will be here for a few days.”
“You’ve been a star patient.” I patted his leg.
“Where’s Phoebe? I thought I’d wake up in here and she’d be in the other bed.”
“She’s still in sick bay and will be there until Dr. Frances releases her.” His eyes widened and I rushed to give him the facts. “She took a pile of pills this morning that she had been saving. Not enough to really cause harm, but enough that her stomach was pumped and an emergency medical plan has been dropped into place. The Bureau will call it a medication error.”
Andrew drew in a long breath, his face showed how the effort hurt. “My fault. I thought we’d both rest better together here. She was enthusiastic, but probably not ready.” David appeared ready to say something, but Andrew continued. “Having a relationship with Phoebe is difficult.”
“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” David offered. “She’s a complicated person.”
“Maybe too complicated.” Andrew’s words settled in the quiet room. “I love her, thought I could bring stability into her life. Like you did, Mom. But she doesn’t really operate independently. Being involved with her is like asking a hermit to throw a big party.”
I smiled at the odd image, typical of Andrew’s wide reading. “She does love you.”
“I know she would say that, but I don’t think she understands what loving another person means. It’s like the concept of love to her is what others give. I looked it up. It’s called narcissism.”
Suddenly David, the one worried about a possible calamity if these two continued their relationship, backtracked. “Don’t think too much about it right now, Andrew. Frances is going to work with her, and we’ll be supporting her. Things will get figured out.”
“Not in the time before I return to work, David. The stuff built into Phoebe will take a whole lot of undoing.”
“What can we do to keep you comfortable?” I played mother and tried to turn the conversation to blankets and books and away from painful emotions.
“Music.” I remembered introducing him to a piano teacher when he was eleven and his joy in practicing long hours. “If they want me to stay totally quiet for a couple of days, then I’d like company. Have Faith study in here. I’d love to help John work through the foundation’s setup. Anything to put my mind back into operation while my body recuperates.” His eyes closed then reopened, physical and emotional discomfort mixed in darkness.
“Rest, son.” David gently squeezed Andrew’s shoulder.
“I’m falling asleep. Sorry.”
“That’s the right thing for you to do. We’ll leave.” I lightly mussed his hair. “Love you.”
Clarissa waited outside Andrew’s door. “I’ve been looking for you. Lao suggested I clear your schedule through lunch. There’s a priority conference including Lao and some Washington people about security at one, but almost everything else on your calendar has been cancelled or rescheduled.”
She didn’t ask about Andrew or question what happened. Maybe Lao gave her a brief explanation. Clarissa was one of those people who knew much more than she let on while displaying little interest in goings on.
“How are they doing?” The question could be based on the original plan that moved Phoebe and Andrew to this suite today or could reflect some knowledge of Phoebe’s suicide attempt during Andrew’s procedure.
“He’s tired. Removing the chest tubes wasn’t easy.” I purposefully addressed just half of her question.
“Does he know about Phoebe’s medication issue?”
David flinched at the Bureau’s cover-up words, at the continued subterfuge of Phoebe’s life. He still wondered every time Tia’s death was mentioned if the person believed the Bureau’s story about how she had been attacked in a dark alley or knew that she was found there with a hypodermic needle in her arm.
I wrapped us in the code language for now. “Yes, we told him. He asked why she wasn’t with him and we gave him the facts.”
She lowered her head, licked her lips, and nodded. “You know he loves her very much.”
“I do know that.” I put my arms around Clarissa, a woman who had lived without much affection. “We’ll all be there for both of them. That’s what we can do, you and I.”
In the residence all moved like a normal weekday. Clarissa and I talked through the remainder of the day until Otis walked toward us with a thermal carrier for Andrew’s lunch.
“He was finding it hard to stay awake, so we left,” I said. “And, thank you, for accepting responsibility for his care. He mentioned he would like some music. If you look in the sound storage file, there should be some Mozart and Chopin. Those would be a good start.”
Clarissa excused herself.
“Maybe you should take her to D.C.,” David commented. “I never know how to read her.”
“Think of the old bachelor Norwegian farmers who lived near your parents. No need to look happy or sad, just work to be done.” I watched through the windows as she walked to her office. “I know nothing about her childhood and only a small amount about her marriage. I think we have given her a place to live and work, possibly a reason to live. She is as proud of Andrew as we are but as stiff as a broom.” I turned back to him. “You need her here. People respect her and she understands the pressures you will face.”
John waited in the DOE offices, his face tight with worry. “Noah says they’re both okay. Anything else you can tell me?”
I opened the secured conference room door and waved them both inside. “The official story about this morning is that Phoebe suffered from an accidental medication incident. No one outside the immediate family should hear anything else from us. We just talked with Andrew. He’ll be fine, but right now he’s uncomfortable.”
“We should talk.” John stood behind a chair. “Do you both have a few minutes?”
David looked at me and I pulled out a chair. “Clarissa cleared our morning schedules for family matters. Sit down.”
“This won’t take long,” he said as he lowered into a chair next to David. “I wanted you to be the first to know that Amber and I plan to get married as soon as we get registered and throw together a little party. It might seem rather sudden, but we’ve been close for a long time.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought she was missing a man she met in France when on vacation.”
He agreed with a rueful half laugh. “We started talking about spending our future together a few years ago over the holidays. But I just couldn’t see how to make it work with my travel. When you told me about the French guy, I knew she and I needed to make a decision.”
“She’s older than you and has almost nothing to her name.” David inserted like fathers throughout the ages. “Plus you’re barely twenty-five. You’ve thought about all of that.”
“She’s beautiful and intelligent and we love each other.” John raised his shoulders, not his voice. “What more than that did Mom have when you decided to spend your lives together?”
David laughed and held out his hand to grab John’s. “Touché.”
“And she does have an acre of land on Ashwood plus some inheritance from Grandpa and a good job that she tells me pays well.”
Tears came as we hugged. Death and troubles, love and promises.
“I want to take her to Washington,” I mentioned. “She would learn so much and be a real help.”
“That’s her decision. I just want us to register the relationship before she leaves.”
“Should we call her in? We can’t exactly welcome her to the family, because that was done years ago. Yo
u will have gorgeous children.”
Clarissa buzzed. “Dr. Frances ordered medication for you, Anne. Do you want to return to your room?”
“Send Dr. Frances a message that I am fine. I’ll be working from this conference room the rest of the day.” David gave me a questioning look that I waved away. “Please find Amber and have her join us as soon as possible.
Chapter 42
Ashwood’s people came together the next day to celebrate the relationship registration of Amber and John, what we used to call an engagement. A marriage would follow after harvest, a grand mixing of the most basic of the earth’s rhythms. The impromptu party in the courtyard quickly diminished interest in Phoebe’s health and soothed subtle discomfort between David and his first son. I noticed more shaved heads among young metro workers gathering in clusters, more long hair on college-educated men and women, very few multi-corps sleek styles.
In our Ashwood community, the brown suits stood out like ants before a storm and made themselves visible everywhere I went. Lao was unable to uncover who listened to their recordings or read their reports. They could be gathering information for Milan’s people or the White House or an entirely different group with interests counter to the Bureau and the ethics board’s formation.
Amber did become my first Washington hire, agreed to act as chief of staff for at least six months. She would hire a housekeeper, begin the vetting process for ethic board employees and work with Lao to screen brown suits with single loyalty.
In the following week, my attention would be split between coaching David and orienting myself to the Bureau’s Washington missions, logistics, and politics from afar. I sidestepped each invitation to spend a day or two in D.C. using Phoebe’s recovery as an excuse no one would question.
Frances dictated the speed of Phoebe’s return to the household. Both raised a glass virtually at the registration party. Two days after the suicide attempt, Phoebe spent a first night in her totally restored suite of rooms. Frances found a young psychiatric health attendant to live onsite as a companion. I heard our daughter wanted a cares to attend to her every personal need, not a health attendant under the direction of Frances.
With sixteen days left before my departure, I drew together a group to present plans for Milan’s visit in three days to welcome Noah to the Intellectual Corps. While offering Noah congratulations, mixed feelings were visible. I dragged the planning session to completion. Noah acted like a soldier thoughtfully enlisting in battle. Clarissa’s lips remained pressed together as if she fought physical illness. Amber and Lao accepted long lists of assignments with their typical willingness. Frances promised Phoebe would appear at her brother’s side and deliver a short comment.
After the meeting I had my first conversation with Milan since the morning of Phoebe’s attempted suicide. Strain in our family, exasperated by living within close confines, kept me awake at night and overly alert during the day. I prepared careful notes for our meeting—the hiring of Amber, vetting of potential ethics board members, readiness of Ashwood for his visit. Phoebe did not appear on my list. Time would not allow the family chattiness we shared for decades.
Milan, seated in the opulent Bureau Secretary office, looked like an accountant in a wealthy man’s home. He wore an expensive suit and a shiny new wedding band.
“Annie, you look tired.” He flipped a switch, dulled his surroundings. “I hope the people I care about at Ashwood are healthy? Want to catch up before we talk about Noah?”
“I’m short on time.” True Minnesotans learn to avoid direct unpleasant behavior so I smiled instead of snarling. “Your chief of staff received plans about the Noah press conference and reception.”
He refused to fall into formality. “Frances says Phoebe is ready to welcome Noah. It sounds like she is doing quite well.”
“She isn’t eating, and with the exception of Noah, none of us have visited with her since the crisis. But Frances says Phoebe will appear with Noah at the conference.”
“It won’t be easy for us to work together on this very important initiative if you hold me accountable for Phoebe’s instability.” Holograms can present crystal clear images or blur at the wrong moment. Milan’s face fell in and out of shadows. “I’ve been her consistent protector since her birth. The most brilliant offspring in the first generation of genetically adapted individuals.”
“Don’t insult me, Milan. You’re talking to the woman who changed her diapers, held her through night terrors, lived with five children in a small metro apartment to give her a few additional years of nurturing. Don’t forget we sought a court injunction to block her Harvard start date.”
“Annie, we built an appropriate support program for Phoebe. You and David chose to see only the child, not the national treasure. You are short-sighted about your children with those turn-of-the-century dreams.”
“Phoebe’s pursuit of freedom, the true American dream, was denied before she was born. We’re not going to agree on this one, Milan.” The sadness in Andrew’s eyes as he distanced himself from the woman he loved, the worry David carried for all our children in the evolving societal control of the multi-corps hung over our home. Milan couldn’t understand life at the daily level any more than I could live like a metro grunt. “We’ll see you in a few days. Who would have known you would go from protected status to leader of the only federal government unit larger than the Pentagon?”
“If we had their budget, we could do so much.” He paused before shifting the conversation. “My wife may be joining us. She hasn’t seen the Regan crew for many years. I assume you can set one more place at the table?”
I wondered where his wife lived now. She was a decent woman who played on the floor with Noah and John, taught Phoebe to twirl a baton, knit a sweater for Faith’s fifth birthday present. “It will be good to see her again. Now, we should go over plans.”
While he read the file, I leaned my head back against my chair and stared across the room at pictures of Ashwood. Under my guidance, often pushed by David’s foresight, the estate continuously changed. Leadership was like that. My father joked about the rightness of situational leadership, of knowing when the time arrived to change direction without apology. In ten minutes we were through and I sent Clarissa notes.
I didn’t hear David come in. “How did it go with Milan?”
“He talks like a king bureaucrat. I feel like the kid who said the emperor had no clothes, but I think that’s why Hernandez appointed me.” I waved him to sit. “It’s time for us to embrace Noah’s choice. He could have joined the military or moved to Europe, but he’s got purpose and good intentions. We have raised a responsible man.”
“He’s naïve,” David replied, but I heard pride. “It won’t be an easy life.”
“Nobody’s lives are easy. The Bible thumpers like to remind us that this is the punishment given to Adam and Eve.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“I’m just shooting the bull.” I smiled, felt some happiness return. “Noah is going to be a big cheese. We raised two of the smartest people in the country. And John will do good stuff with his environmental business. Plus there’s that whole marriage thing that will be fun for us.” I saw David begin to let go of his disappointments. “Andrew will either get over Phoebe, or figure out how to accept her for what she is.” I checked for agreement. “And we have an executive in the making leaving junk in her mother’s office.” I picked up Faith’s hair clip as I stood. “I think we did good and now it’s their turn to make the world better.”
“If we can keep Phoebe from repeating Tia’s mistake.”
“Can’t do that, David. Either she finds the way to make it in this world or there’s a chance for incredible sadness. Tia had demons and memories of finding her father’s body. Phoebe’s got all kinds of insecurities, but I also think she’s a strong person rebelling against the fancy padded cage the
Bureau’s built for her. She’s a Regan and Regans are blazingly independent.”
“Screw work. Let’s ride over to Giant Pines and see the new calves.”
“Why does that make sense?”
“Because when you’re in D.C., you can think about the cows bellowing when the politicians start blowing hot air and try not to laugh out loud.”
Chapter 43
Noah Bradford Regan took his place in the Intellectual Corps on a hot July day in front of the school building where he learned multiplication at three years of age, explained a complex chemistry experiment to a DOE engineering student, and stuck bubble gum to a young teacher’s chair. John, his half-brother and best friend, stood right behind him on one side, while Phoebe stood on his other side. David and I stayed together, out of the direct camera.
“We were all disappointed when Noah decided to turn his back on clinical practice,” Phoebe said, not reading from the script prepared by the Bureau. David tensed. I did the same.
“He would be a great doctor—smart and kind and very intuitive. It is a loss to every hospital that Dr. Noah Regan will not treat patients. But the world will be a better place because somewhere he will be directing research about childhood nutrition or repairing cell damage or some other life-threatening condition. So we will all live better with my brother working within the Intellectual Corps. Unlike our pioneer crew, Noah is the first adult to independently choose to join the Corps. I am so proud to welcome him to a life that is difficult, consuming and the greatest service that can be dedicated to our nation.”
She stood tall, her curly hair a dramatic contrast to her black clothing. This was the Phoebe who spoke at international symposiums to the world’s brightest researchers. She stepped away from the podium to shake Noah’s hand then embrace him in front of carefully chosen media representatives. Her smile was so genuine that her face didn’t look pale and thin.
Leaving Ashwood Page 26
