The Peace Maker

by Michele Chynoweth

  Since she had written several papers on the topic, Chessa was glad she now had the opportunity to see her government in action on an issue so dear to her heart.

  Amy sat beside her on the bus. She had signed up to cover the hearing for The Spectator in hopes her article would help land her an intern job at The New York Times. Plus, neither girl had ever been to Washington before, and they were excited just to visit the nation’s capital.

  Once they made it through the long security lines and into their seats high up in the Senate chamber of the Capitol reserved for the public, Chessa and Amy listened attentively as a hush fell and roll call was taken.

  While Amy wrote furiously in her reporter’s notebook, Chessa sat back to observe, soaking in all of the goings-on, trying not to miss anything. But the beat of her heart seemed to catch in her chest when she recognized a familiar face in the crowd on the Senate floor below.

  Darren Richards had turned to speak to a colleague on his left and she could see his perfect profile. He looks good, she couldn’t help noticing. Even more handsome and distinguished than before in his suit and tie.

  She wordlessly clutched Amy’s forearm with her hand when Senator Richards’ name was called

  “Oh my God.” Amy’s words spilled breathlessly out in a whisper as Chessa motioned toward Darren. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

  “Of course not!” Chessa lowered her voice, not wanting to annoy the nearby audience members. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

  The presiding officer announced the bill and discussion ensued. Chessa sat back to listen and felt a small smile cross her lips despite herself as fond memories started to seep into her consciousness.

  “Snap out of it.” Amy brought her back, actually pinching her leg. “He’s about to speak.”

  “… couldn’t be prouder to be added to my fellow Senators as a sponsor of the bill.” Darren was standing, his back to them, as he addressed the Senate Majority Leader. “I firmly believe that the United States needs to stand up and be a leader in this crucial fight for the basic rights of women and girls. They are victims of war, just like the Jews were in the Holocaust. If we look the other way, then we’re sending a message to the women and girls of our own country that they are second-class citizens. As Edgar Burke said, ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ And as Winston Churchill said, ‘The price of greatness is responsibility.’ I know we’ve just come out of a recession, but if we continue to use that as a cop-out, millions of innocent girls will continue to be raped, mutilated, forced into prostitution, and killed. Think about your wives, sisters, mothers, and daughters. It is our responsibility and duty to pass this bill into law.”

  Chessa found herself clapping along with the crowd. She forgot about the unanswered letters and phone calls. This was her hero.

  Amy stopped writing furiously in her reporter’s notebook, glancing with amazement at her roommate, and shook her head.

  After the Senate let out, Chessa scrambled to meet Darren to thank him. I’ll keep my personal feelings out of it, she thought, craning her neck to try to spot him amid the hundreds of legislators, lobbyists and guests. This is like trying to swim against the tide. She walked against the stream of humanity trying to exit the Capitol while Amy waited for her outside.

  Her roommate was a little miffed when Chessa told her she was going to look for him and wasn’t about to wait with her. “I’m not going to waste my time in here talking to a politician.” Amy frowned. “Especially one who broke up with my best friend. But you do what you want. I know you will. It’s nice out there, and I’m starving. I’m going to get something to eat and do some sightseeing. See ya.”

  After the majority of people had vanished and she was just about to give up, Chessa heard her name, and her heart stopped.

  “Hey, Chessa, I thought that was you. Wait up.” Darren looked even more handsome close up as he caught up to her, out of breath. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve tried to reach you but you never returned my calls.”

  Chessa was confused. “What calls? I never got any. I thought you… we were over.” She tried to fight to keep her voice from quivering with anger and hurt.

  Darren smiled, shaking his head. “That Peggy! She’s had a crush on me since she started working for me and tries to keep away all other young females—especially those I’m interested in or who seem interested in me. I should have known. She probably was nice to you on the phone, but it’s all an act. Meanwhile, she just screened your calls, deleted your messages, and threw away your letters. This hasn’t happened for a long time. I haven’t been dating for a while, so I forgot…can you forgive me? I’m telling you, if Peggy wasn’t such a good secretary, I’d….”

  “You’re forgiven.” Chessa wanted to believe him and decided to shove any doubts to the back of her mind. She felt herself basking in the warmth of his smile.

  Like Prince Charming in a fairy tale, Darren gallantly took her hand and kissed it. “May I take you to dinner?”

  Chessa hesitated. “I can’t. I came on the bus from school with Amy. In fact, it will be picking us up soon.”

  “Then how about tomorrow night? I can take the train up to New York.”

  Chessa recalled she had plans to go to dinner with the staff of The Spectator. I don’t want to appear too eager, she thought. “I can’t—”

  “The next night then?” Darren grinned.

  “Okay. But how can you…aren’t you still in session?” Chessa was delighted in his persistence, but still a little bit skeptical.

  “It’s the weekend and I don’t have anything pressing. I will fly around the world in a day just to make this up to you and spend time with you, Chessa Reynolds.”

  She beamed.

  Three months later, Darren proposed.

  And it was as romantic as any fairy tale. They spent that cloudless Saturday afternoon roaming around Central Park, walking and talking, taking in the sights. Darren retrieved a picnic basket from his car, which he had packed with supplies for an early dinner.

  After spreading a blanket beneath a tall oak tree on the fringes of the park, he pulled out the bounty: a bottle of cabernet, a small loaf of French bread, an assortment of cheeses, a pâté spread, a garden salad, and for dessert, chocolate-covered strawberries. He actually brought real wine goblets and china dishes and a vase with roses for a centerpiece.

  After they had finished their meal and sat basking in the July sun, Darren suddenly knelt up and started rummaging through the empty basket.

  “What are you looking for?” Chessa was only mildly curious, content with the day. She was half lying down, leaning up on her elbow, dressed in a short-sleeved white blouse and lightweight yellow skirt, with her long wavy hair held off her face with a yellow headband.

  “I can’t believe I forgot to bring it out.”

  “I can’t eat another bite.” Chessa tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her face soaking in the day’s last rays. I feel like a contented kitten. She sighed.

  “It’s not something to eat. It’s to wear. Here, I found it.”

  Chessa’s curiosity was piqued, and she opened her eyes and sat upright to see what Darren was talking about. And then she felt her mouth drop open.

  Darren was up on one knee, and in his fingers he held out to her the most gorgeous diamond ring she had ever seen.

  “Chessa Reynolds, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?”

  Chessa was truly stunned, so it took her a minute to answer. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? To marry the most handsome, successful, intelligent, philanthropic man in the world? It’s just that I’m surprised… it’s so soon. But why wait? “Yes!” She knelt and held out her hand, letting him slip the ring around her finger. It fit perfectly, and she put her arms around his neck, kissing him.

  “I have another surprise. Come on.” Darren quickly shoved the dishes and empty bottle into the basket, helped Chessa to her feet and led her down the
sidewalk toward the north end of the park.

  As the sunset started to color the sky, a horse-drawn carriage pulled up along the street where Darren and Chessa exited the park. Darren smiled and shook hands with the driver, who helped Chessa into the carriage. Seemingly out of nowhere, Darren brandished a single white rose tied with a ribbon, which he handed to her, and a bottle of champagne with two flutes. While Darren climbed onto the seat next to her, the driver wordlessly popped the cork and poured the champagne into their glasses, then took his seat and gave the horse the order to take off.

  I feel like Cinderella, Chessa thought.

  Amy was waiting up for Chessa, studying, when Chessa excitedly returned to her dorm room later that night.

  “Uh-oh, what did he do this time?” Amy didn’t hide the fact she wasn’t keen on Darren Richards. She confided in Chessa that she had never really trusted members of the opposite sex to begin with, and hadn’t entirely bought the story about Peggy the receptionist. But Chessa appreciated that her roommate tried to keep her mouth shut to keep the peace in their friendship.

  “Look.” Chessa twirled around and then held her arm straight out, dangling the ring in front of Amy’s face.

  “Oh my God. You didn’t…?” Amy sat rigid behind her desk, staring at Chessa, stunned.

  Chessa felt like a balloon that had just been punctured. She had expected her best friend to be excited and happy for her, to leap up and hug her. “You could at least say ‘congratulations.’ And yes, I did say yes. I’m sorry you don’t approve.” Chessa couldn’t hide her disappointment.

  “Congratulations.” Amy remained seated, the word she uttered as forced as her smile. “It’s just that…well, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. I think you should maybe wait longer, get to know him better. Maybe date other guys first. He’s just so much older and more experienced. I guess he knows what he wants. But do you? Are you sure?”

  Maybe she’s just jealous. She could at least try to be happy for me. Chessa crossed her arms defiantly. Yet beyond the hurt, she felt a deeper uneasiness churning in the pit of her stomach. This is all so sudden.

  “You don’t need a man to make you happy, you know,” Amy continued. “You have so much to see and do before you settle down, right? I know I do. Maybe you should get to know yourself better, spend some time apart from him. Maybe we could go on a trip after graduation, then if he’s still interested—”

  “I do know myself, and I want to be with him,” Chessa interrupted. “I don’t want to end up alone. I’m not like you.”

  Chessa instantly regretted her words as she watched a pained expression fleetingly cross her friend’s face before she turned back to her books.

  “Whatever. I was just looking out for you. Do what you want.”

  Chessa flopped onto her bed and closed her eyes, but it took hours before she finally fell asleep once they turned the lights off. She mulled Amy’s words over and over in her head. What if she’s right? How well do I really know Darren? His speech before the Senate played back in her mind and she answered her own question. Enough to know he is championing a cause I believe in. Enough to know he’s really handsome, successful, and a great catch. Enough to know that if I say no, he may not wait for me.

  She fell asleep with a vision of Darren dressed like a prince, waltzing her around a dance floor as a crowd of ballroom guests looked on. She was wearing Cinderella slippers and a white princess gown.

  Chessa set her sights on planning the perfect wedding.

  She and Darren picked a Saturday in early August the following year after her graduation from Columbia while he would be on congressional vacation. They agreed to get married in New York, since they were both natives and most of their friends and family lived there and wouldn’t have to travel. Since Chessa had grown up Methodist, they agreed to get married at Christ Church United Methodist, one of Manhattan’s most beautiful and historic churches located on Park Avenue. Darren said he didn’t mind. His family was Lutheran but he had never practiced nor seemed to care much about religion.

  But the reception was a different matter and caused their first wedding argument.

  Money was not a problem since the Richards, Chessa learned, were multimillionaires and agreed to pay for everything. The only dilemma was where to have it. Chessa wanted to hold the reception at the Boathouse in Central Park. But Darren preemptively told her he had the Delegate Dining Room of the United Nations in mind.

  Not to be deterred, Chessa argued her case as they walked along Columbia’s campus talking about the wedding plans. “The Boathouse is so beautiful and romantic, looking out over the lake at Central Park.”

  “The UN building is gorgeous and looks out over the whole city,” Darren said.

  “But the Boathouse has special meaning.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Chessa started feeling angry, and tried hard not to sound childish. “Darren, it was the restaurant where you took me on our first date! And of course, you, proposed in Central Park. Besides, the Boathouse is on the city’s top-ten list of wedding reception locations and it’s close to the church.”

  “Well, the Delegate Dining Room is also on the top ten list. Besides, everyone will be really impressed if we have it there. It’s not every day a US senator gets married in the United Nations building. I’m sure we’ll get our pictures in all the papers—”

  “I could care less about that. And you should care more about what I think than all of your buddies in the legislature or the public for that matter.” Chessa sulked, and then felt guilty for feeling that way. She finally decided it wasn’t that important after all. Even though the choice of a reception hall was one of the biggest decisions an engaged couple usually made, she would let him have his way to keep the peace. She told him he could make the final decision.

  Darren took Chessa to see it one night. With the UN’s entrance flanked by its 193 flags, and the dining room’s floor-to-ceiling windows providing a panoramic view of the city skyline and the East River, Chessa couldn’t disagree that it was a reception site fit for a king, or at least a United States dignitary.

  Another argument arose, however, when it came time to discuss their selection of a best man and maid of honor.

  Chessa had no problem with Darren’s choice of Pete Connor, his campaign manager and closest confidante. Chessa had only met Pete once and considered him nice enough, although a little standoffish. She guessed it came with the territory of being protective of his candidate.

  But Darren had a big problem with her choice. Since she didn’t have any siblings, Chessa told Darren she had decided to ask Amy Darlington, to which her fiancé balked.

  “My sister will be offended I’m sure,” Darren said, disgruntled. “And my parents won’t be too happy either.”

  “Why do you care what your parents think?”

  “They are paying for the whole thing, don’t forget.”

  Chessa’s parents didn’t have much money, so she had thus acquiesced to Darren’s offer that his parents pay for everything. She realized now with regret that this would probably continue to come back to bite her.

  “But she’s my best friend, and I don’t have any sisters or brothers.” Chessa switched tactics.

  “That’s not my fault.”

  It dawned on Chessa that perhaps her future husband was prejudiced. “Is it because she’s black?”

  “Of course not!” Darren seemed offended by her questioning him but he cut her off from further probing. “Fine, do what you want.”

  Darren’s parents were not only unhappy about their daughter-in-law’s choice for a maid-of-honor; they apparently weren’t happy about their only son’s choice of her as their future daughter-in-law either.

  Darren took Chessa to meet his parents two weeks after they were engaged. Donald and Dorothy Richard had asked them to their estate for dinner to celebrate.

  Chessa marveled at the huge stone mansion in the Hamptons as they walked up the drive. She fo
und it slightly disconcerting when Darren rang the doorbell and a male voice came over a speaker. “Who is it?’

  “It’s us dad.” Darren seemed to find it amusing that his father had answered the door over an intercom. Chessa found it odd.

  They were served drinks before dinner in the “receiving room.” Chessa asked for a soda and felt awkward toasting with it as Darren and his parents raised martini glasses of gin and vermouth. These were quickly followed by a second round.

  “So dear, do you need any help with the wedding plans?” Dorothy smiled sweetly. She was impeccably dressed in a pencil thin navy skirt and white blouse, and her honey colored hair was coifed and shiny.

  “My mom is helping so I think I’m okay.” Oh no, that wasn’t a good thing to say. Chessa agonized over every word that came out of her mouth. Maybe she wants to help and I just shut her out.

  But Dorothy interjected as if she hadn’t heard the response. “Of course you need all the help you can get. I’m in between charity work now so it will be the perfect time for me to help you shop.”

  Over dinner, Dorothy chatted like a bird, giving Chessa advice on everything from food choices for the reception to picking out a china pattern for her gift registry.

  “I’m not much on shopping,” Chessa said, again without thinking. Dorothy looked at her like she was an alien.

  “So tell us about yourself, Chessa,” Donald interjected, breaking the tension.

  When Chessa said she was a senior at Columbia University, she saw Dorothy frown.

  “You robbed the cradle, boy,” Donald said a little too loudly. Chessa had lost count of how many drinks Darren’s father had downed but she guessed it was at least four or five.

  When Chessa said she grew up in Greenwich Village, she saw Dorothy’s frown deepen.

  “So were your parents the hippy type?” Darren’s dad grinned.

  “Donald, that’s not appropriate!” Dorothy chided her husband.