When sleeping she looked like a little girl. Her lower lip pushed out in a tiny pout, making her look vulnerable and appealing. Her blond hair lay scattered across her pillow like a halo. Slender fingers curled under her chin, clutching the sheet to her. She was a lovely girl, and she seemed to have nothing more important in her life than to make him happy. The thought of that childlike face and the adoration he had seen in it last night stirred his desire again. Silverwood sighed, pushed the thought away, turned back to his work.
He had simply stopped calling his wife. It felt as though an enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Their last talk had been Monday night, when she had accused him of seeing someone else, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. So what, he had said once he had recovered. Do you really think you’ve been very much of a wife? She had started to break down then, struggled to keep control, asked him if ten years of marriage meant nothing to him. A lot more than it does to you, he had replied. If you’d been capable of seeing beyond your credits and debits, you’d have realized a long time ago that I needed you here with me. By then she’d been crying full out. You never needed anyone in your life, she had sobbed over the phone. That’s where you’re wrong, he had replied. It’s the most perfect example I can think of, of how little you know me, and how little you really care. Silverwood had hung up and not spoken to her since.
When he told Sally about it, she was all sympathy and practical advice. I know it’s hard to think about, she told him after holding him tenderly and telling him how it hurt her to see him suffer. But if it’s over between you, then you need to take action immediately. Even though it’s hard, you have got to think about your career. Silverwood had nodded morosely, knowing she was right, hating to hear it stated in such starkly practical terms.
If she files action against you, Sally went on, then it could really hurt your reelection chances. But if you file for a legal separation yourself, you can claim abandonment as the reason, and in the eyes of the press you’d have the upper hand.
Each evening, Silverwood planned to call a lawyer the next morning and get things moving. Every morning, however, he found it very difficult to take that first step. It was one thing to say their marriage was over. It was another thing entirely to make it so.
So he kept putting it off, not really hoping for a change, just not wanting to see it all down in black and white. And now that he was not in contact with Suzanne, it became easier to push the unfinished business aside. Sally made him happier than he had ever been in his life, and his political fortunes were climbing skyward like a missile.
Silverwood’s reverie was interrupted by his secretary, who called in to say Mr. Shermann was on the phone. The lobbyist normally called at about this time every day. It was simply a polite reminder that he was waiting for Silverwood’s decision, never pressing, always understanding. For the past several days Silverwood had left instructions to say that he was not in when the man called. This had pleased his secretary mightily. He had not spoken to Sally about the offer or his deliberations at all.
Today he decided to pick up the phone. “Good afternoon, Mr. Shermann.”
“Ah, Congressman, what a pleasant surprise to find you in. I hope I’m not disturbing anything important.”
Silverwood ignored his rising unease over the man’s toneless voice, and concentrated on the matter at hand. “I’ve been contacted by several people about this Ways and Means appointment. More than several, as a matter of fact. The Washington Post fellow, what’s his name, the one who covers the White House, he told me he’d heard a rumor that the position was as good as mine.”
“Yes, well, I thought it wise to begin putting the wheels in motion, Congressman. Not assuming anything, I hope you understand. I just wanted to show you that I truly am as good as my word.”
“I also noticed that the Atlas questioning had been tabled for a few days.”
“Yes, I was fortunate enough to be able to have that set aside for the moment. There are so many other aspects of this investigation that require your committee’s urgent attention, I’m sure you agree. How many construction companies are now being considered for indictment?”
“Seventeen,” Congressman Silverwood replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“That’s right. Seventeen. My goodness, you would hardly think that one company more or less would make any difference, would you?”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that I am giving the matter my most serious consideration, Mr. Shermann.”
“I am so very grateful, Congressman. Indeed I am.” There was no satisfaction evident in the rasping voice, no emotional response of any kind. “I believe I heard somewhere that the Atlas people are scheduled to reappear before the committee next Monday.”
“You heard correctly, Mr. Shermann.” The man’s sources were very good, Silverwood conceded. He had only heard about it himself at that day’s hearing.
“That gives us until tomorrow to reach an agreement, Congressman. I would then be able to have your Ways and Means appointment locked up by Monday morning, before the hearing starts, with a formal announcement coming in due course.”
“You’re that sure of yourself, are you?” Silverwood could still scarcely believe that the offer was real.
“I assure you, Congressman, I would not consider wasting your time otherwise.”
“Well, I’ll be back in touch with you by tomorrow at the latest.”
“Should you decide to accept my offer, Congressman, I would be most grateful if you could please allow me to stop by for just a few moments. I always prefer to make such agreements in person, I’m sure you understand.”
“Not here,” Silverwood said sharply, not caring if the man was offended. “I don’t want any more contact with you here in my chambers. If I decide to accept, I’ll come down to your offices.”
“Whichever you prefer, Congressman,” Mr. Shermann replied, not in the least put out. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
****
By Thursday evening, the snow had settled in as though making itself at home for the duration.
TJ scrunched along snow-covered sidewalks and enjoyed the air’s biting briskness. It helped to clear his mind of issues that had burdened him throughout the day.
The major streets were cleared, but smaller offshoots were a disaster. Georgetown was clogged and hopeless. Abandoned cars lay under drifts as though blanketed for a long winter’s nap. TJ had taken the Metro home from work; the walk from the Red-line station was less than half a mile. That afternoon the mantle of clouds and their perpetual gloom had finally rolled away. But TJ had heard as he left the building that more clouds and snow were predicted by morning.
As usual when out walking in Washington, TJ carried a pocketful of small change. A couple of coins were given to each panhandler in turn. There were always a number of them around Dupont Circle and up Connecticut Avenue. TJ tried to offer a little prayer for them as he left the money, but sometimes it was difficult to put his heart into it. Like today, when their presence just aggravated the concerns he carried with him from the office.
There seemed to TJ to be this incredible gap between educational policies and the children they were supposed to serve. Yes, serve, he thought, as he stepped through the snow. It was so much easier to think clearly out here, away from the conference room’s stale air and the sideways glances that were cast around the room every time he opened his mouth. It all came down to service. The founding principle of democratic society was this: The government’s sole purpose was to serve the people. If the policy area was education, then these policy makers were bound by their nation’s heritage to serve the needs of their children.
At the committee meeting that day were several staffers from other OEOB departments. It had been clear from the outset that more than a few had been clued in by Secretary Edwards’ Special Assistant for White House Liaison, Jane Patterson. It had also been clear that they were closing ranks against TJ and his ideas.
&n
bsp; The gentleman from the office of the Special Assistant to the President for Legislative Affairs had stated it outright. Such ideas belong more to a preacher than a national policy maker, the man had said. The lawyer from the Office of White House Counsel had agreed and added, had Mr. Case ever heard of separation of church and state? TJ had refrained from confronting the man directly, and tried to steer the conversation back to the question of policy formation. Now as he walked the snow-silenced streets he wondered if he had done the right thing.
The catchphrase today was “nonreligious interference” in the schools. TJ had read it time and again in his research. It still dismayed him. The nation’s first schools had been run by churches, not by the state. The local pastor had generally served as the school principal. The Bible, as one of the prime textbooks, had been referred to constantly.
It seemed to TJ that society was now determined to substitute its own pseudo-scientific theories in the place of God’s eternal truth. The Bible was all but banned from public schools, and it was the children who suffered most from this blind self-importance of their elders.
Children rarely were mentioned in the committee meeting. The discussions were all appeasement and politics. This person needed to be brought in to assure support, this fence needed mending, that required passing through budget committee for funding, this nose would be bent out of shape unless he was called immediately, somebody needed to make sure this program was in line with somebody else’s general policy directive. Several times TJ had bitten down hard against the desire to cry out, what about the children? Do any of you really believe structuring education policy around the current political winds will ever satisfy the fundamental needs of our children? Isn’t a more permanent moral base required?
TJ stomped the snow from his feet loudly on the doorstep, was surprised to hear no welcoming hello. He left shoes and coat in the hall closet and followed his nose back to the kitchen. Jeremy, dressed in a filthy one-piece construction coverall and paint-stained work boots, was stirring some pots on the stove.
TJ smiled, said in greeting, “Decided to dress up for dinner?”
Without turning around, Jeremy replied, “This is the most comfortable I’ve been since I got here.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Just helpin’ some friends. Tryin’ to get a few people off the streets and outta the cold. We got some families out there worryin’ about their kids freezin’ to death. Gotta get some shelters finished fast as we can. Had seventeen families crammed in a teeny little basement last night, wasn’t hardly room to swing a cat.”
TJ noticed that Jeremy had paint spackled in his hair. The only clean part of the big man was his hands. TJ asked, “Why are you still dressed like that?”
“Just got in a coupla minutes ago. Catherine wasn’t feelin’ well, so I sent her upstairs and told her I’d look after things.” He lifted another lid, said through the steam, “You maybe oughtta go check on her.”
Jeremy’s reflection in the stainless steel fan above the stove caused TJ to look more closely. “Jem?” he said.
Reluctantly Jeremy turned, allowing TJ to see the lump of gauze held in place by two ragged strips of tape above his left eye. The gauze was bright red.
“Dear Lord, Jem, are you all right? What happened?”
“Fellow wasn’t lookin’ where he was goin’,” he said briefly. “Swung around with a length of pipe and whacked me good.”
“I’ve got to get you to a doctor.”
“I’m all right,” he said. “It ain’t the first time and won’t be the last. Been on some sites where this’d be called a love-tap.”
“But you’re bleeding, man.”
“Naw, it’s pretty much stopped. Maybe you can tape it up better before we sit down to dinner.”
“Well, why don’t you sit down, let me get you something.”
“I’m all right, I tell you. I got to see to dinner.”
“What’s the matter with Catherine?”
“Best let her tell you. She’s upstairs in the bedroom. Go on, TJ, I’ll be all right. She’s the one who needs you right now.”
He climbed the stairs, his fatigue forgotten, and found Catherine sprawled across their bed. Her shoes were off, her stocking feet tucked up under the hem of her dress. The handkerchief balled up in one fist had seen plenty of use. She did not move, did not turn his way as he entered the room. When he sat down on the bed he saw that she had been crying.
“Honey, what on earth’s the matter?”
“I’m all right now,” she said, her voice very low. “I just had a bad day, is all.”
Fearful of holding her until she was ready, he grasped her hand, stroked her arm, said, “Can you tell me about it?”
She shook her head. “There’s no need to bother you with it. You’ve got enough on your mind right now without having me load you down with my troubles too.”
“Baby, baby, how can I sit here and see you in pain and not know what’s going on?” He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “Tell me what happened, Catherine. Please, honey. Not telling is about the worst thing you could do to me.”
She gave a hurtful sigh, slid over so she could put her head in his lap. “I decided I’d go out for a walk, down in the area where Jeremy’s been working.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s not all that far from here, less than a mile, but the difference is like night and day.”
TJ stroked her forehead, listened in silence, made a mental note to find out more about this new work of Jeremy’s.
“I’m walking around, just enjoying the day and the snow and how clean everything looks all white and fresh. And there’s a couple of children laughing and hanging on their mother’s arm, and I’m watching them, but kind of notice a police car pull up to the curb ahead of me. You know how you can see something, but your mind’s on something else, so you really don’t think about what you’re seeing?”
TJ nodded, aching over the pain he saw in her eyes, having no idea at all where she was taking him.
“It didn’t even dawn on me, honey. I was in la-la land. And I see these people all gathered around, so I come sauntering up, and I see it’s a body laying there in the snow.”
Catherine swiveled around and sat up, resting herself on the headboard. Her eyes no longer saw anything inside the room.
“It was a young black man, I don’t know, maybe twenty, twenty-five. And silly old me thinks, that’s an awful young, good-looking man to be drunk in the middle of the day. Then one of the policemen picks up the boy’s arm and kind of rolls him over. You know what I thought? That was a kind man, that policeman. That’s what I was thinking. He was so gentle, just like a father switching a child to a more comfortable position.
“Then it hit me. Wham. This is a body that life has left. That boy there in the snow was dead. You know, I’ve seen and touched the shells of people all my life. Been to I don’t know how many funerals. But when I see a body there in a funeral, I always know the person’s not there. They’re gone.” She looked at him for the first time. “You know what I mean?”
“I know, honey, I know.” TJ stroked her arm, pained inside to hear her say these things, glad just the same she had a chance to get it off her chest.
“It hit me awful hard, looking down and realizing all of a sudden-like that the person wasn’t there anymore. He was gone, and I didn’t even know it. I stood there and just cried my heart out. I could not get control of myself. I stood there and watched the coroner come up and feel around the top of the man’s head. I looked around at all the other people, and I tried just as hard as I could to stop crying.”
The tears started to form again in her eyes. She grasped TJ’s hands with both of hers, said, “Honey, there was mothers there with babies on their hips and little kids standing there holding on to their momma’s skirt. You know, I could just hear what they were thinking. I’ve got to go out and see what’s happening there on the street, but I can’t leave my babies in the house, so I’m gonna
bring my babies with me. All these small children, with those big innocent eyes, looking down at this body. I just broke down and cried harder than before.”
“Aw, Catherine, honey, come here,” TJ murmured, and pulled her close. She sank against his chest, crying softly, holding him with fierce need.
“I know they’re seeing all this stuff on television,” she sobbed. “And that’s bad enough. Now it’s happening here in their community, and they’re brought out to look at it. You know what those poor little things are gonna grow up thinking? It’s normal. This is a regular part of life. They’ll expect it. It’s like their momma’s telling them, see, life doesn’t have any meaning, look here at this dead body. It’s so sad, honey. So sad. These children are growing up so scarred, so calloused. How’re they ever gonna learn to hope?”
Over dinner Jeremy told them about the Community of Hope and the work he was doing. “The city’s got all kinds of houses down there that haven’t been touched since the Depression. You see all these homeless people on the streets, makes you wonder why it’s taken ’em so long to go in and do something. I mean, the houses are condemned, they belong to the city. But there they sit, all the first-floor windows walled up, with people sleeping on the sidewalk out in front.”
He looked at Catherine, said, “You know, they got themselves a group that works with children.”
She brightened visibly. “You think they might use another old lady down there?”
Jeremy smiled. “Don’t see why not. Can’t hurt to ask.”
“All I know is I’ve got to do something for those children. I’ve just got to.”
They cleaned up swiftly and moved into the living room. A fire was soon burning and the chairs pulled up close to it. “I can’t think of anything I like better than a fire on a cold winter night,” Catherine said.
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