The Peace Maker

by Michele Chynoweth

  In the first photo, Leif was walking at night along a city street, arm and arm with a gorgeous young Israeli woman. The camera lens had captured her face. She was smiling, perfect white teeth in an unlined olive face, with large, kohl-rimmed, almond-shaped eyes that twinkled with amusement, as if Leif apparently had said something quite entertaining.

  The photos were apparently arranged in progression as if the photographer had snapped away, unfolding the affair before her eyes.

  In the second photo, Leif and the woman were sitting at a bar laughing over drinks. In the third, the woman was kissing Leif on the cheek. The fourth depicted her embracing him with her arms wrapped around his neck. It was hard to tell where his hands were since it was a shot from the shoulders up. Wendy could only imagine. The next showed the two stepping into the David InterContinental Hotel, Leif’s arm around her waist.

  She had long flowing jet-black hair and was probably in her early twenties. She had a perfect face and the figure of a model, which was accentuated with a form-fitting long dress made of sheer material that was cinched with a belt around her tiny waist.

  “Unfortunately, I have men over there that have confirmed that Leif is, in fact, having an affair. Her name is—”

  “I don’t want to know.” Wendy’s voice was frighteningly deadpan.

  “What do you want to do?” Martin stood, came around the desk, and hugged his daughter. It was only then that she broke down in hysterics.

  “Daddy, what do I do?” she wailed.

  “I’ll take care of everything, princess.” He held her, stroking her hair as the tears fell on his shoulder. “Leave everything to me. It will be okay.”

  If jealousy had taken an already fragile Wendy to the edge of stability and rationality, the abortion sent her over it. Since the news of her husband’s alleged “affair” had come from her father, whom she completely trusted, and was coupled with photographic evidence, Wendy believed the lie and was a fearful ball of putty in her father’s hands. Martin could now advise her to do his bidding as if she were a child again.

  He had waited to “take care” of his daughter’s “unfortunate” pregnancy until his wife was away again on another trip to visit her sister. Carol was expected to be gone about two weeks.

  When the First Lady returned to the White House, the deed was done. Martin gently broke the news to his wife that their daughter was in a psychiatric facility, that she had lost her baby again and was so distraught that she had become suicidal.

  Then he told his wife about Leif’s “affair” leading to the “miscarriage,” how his men had reported to him about his son-in-law’s indiscretions, and how he had asked them to get proof. “Wendy was beside herself when I showed her the photos. She totally lost it. I’m sure it’s what caused her to lose the baby,” he said, consoling her.

  Martin had told Wendy that they needed to hide the truth from her mom since Carol was already stressed and would get too upset. He also warned her that if anyone found out she had gotten an abortion they would tell the media, who would question her relentlessly and drive her completely mad, and then she would never get well and get out of the psych ward.

  “I just can’t believe it!” Carol nearly shouted with indignation. “If I ever see Leif Mitchell again I…I don’t know what I’ll do. How could he do this to our little girl? Does he even know the baby is…gone?”

  “No, I don’t think we should tell him until he gets back home. He’s probably wrapping up the peace talks as we speak and should be home in a few days. Meanwhile, I had an attorney friend draw up divorce papers, which I had Wendy sign while she was having a good day. They’re pretty clear-cut. There’s no way Leif will be able to fight the claims of abandonment and adultery since we have proof of both. I hope you can see now why I’ve always had misgivings about him. But on your encouragement I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It makes me sick to think he’s representing me in the Middle East right now, while I’m picking up the pieces of the mess he’s made. But I’m glad I’m here for Wendy. And I’m glad the truth came out and we can finally get rid of him once and for all.”

  Carol insisted she immediately accompany him to visit their daughter, who was staying temporarily at MedStar Washington Hospital Center’s Behavioral Health and Psychiatry facility until she got well again.

  Martin had taken Wendy to the hospital for the abortion procedure, then recommended she sign herself into the behavioral health wing. It was known as one of the best facilities of its kind in DC. Plus, the president had strong connections to the hospital’s board of directors, and had facilitated several hefty research grants on their behalf. He knew they would keep his secret.

  On the drive to the hospital, flanked by Secret Service vehicles, Martin briefed his wife about Wendy’s condition. But Carol was still unprepared to see her daughter so thin and frail. Wendy had lost about ten pounds and lay thin and gaunt in the hospital bed, her stringy blond hair tucked behind her against her pillow. Her face was pale, and she had gray circles under her lifeless eyes.

  Carol cried as she hugged her daughter, then pulled herself together.

  Martin had warned her that although Wendy was mildly sedated, she still could get upset easily which could cause her to have a panic attack. In turn her blood pressure might rise dangerously, which would mean that she would need more medication.

  Carol tried to smile brightly, and made small talk, telling Wendy about her trip.

  “So how are you, sweetheart?” Carol gently asked, sitting next to her daughter’s hospital bed.

  “I lost the baby,” Wendy said emotionlessly.

  “I know, honey, and I’m sorry,” Carol said, smoothing Wendy’s hair.

  “It’s all Leif’s fault,” Wendy said as a tear trickled down her face.

  “I know that too. I know everything that happened, honey. But maybe it was meant to be, sweetheart. Maybe God was looking out for you.” She wiped her daughter’s tears away and held her tightly. “It will all be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

  If Martin Greene thought Leif had been a threat to him when he became a sensation by defeating giant opponent Leon Slater and winning the Kentucky governorship, the president realized now he had greatly underestimated the power of his son-in-law.

  Leif came home to the United States a national hero.

  For the first time in history, someone had achieved a real start to peace in the Middle East that had heretofore only been given lip service by the various leaders involved to pacify the public over and over again through the conduit of the news media.

  There was much work left to do to draw up a treaty involving the proposed new border controls, including garnering the backing of the United Nations’ countries as well as many of the Middle Eastern nations. There was no doubt, however, that a start had been made and Leif Mitchell was to be credited for it.

  But Leif’s pride and joy over his triumphs overseas were short-lived and were quickly overshadowed with grief over his personal tragedies back home.

  Leif received a phone call immediately after his plane touched down at Dulles International Airport that Wendy had lost the baby and was staying at the home of Doctor Terrence Brand, the chief psychiatrist from MedStar Washington Hospital, and his wife in their posh DC suburbs.

  Martin had arranged with his good friend Terry, whom he trusted implicitly, to have his daughter brought out of the sterile, impersonal hospital to live under the doctor’s direct care in a wing in his secluded mansion. That way, Martin had told Wendy, she would feel more at home in her surroundings, and more importantly, wouldn’t be disturbed by those pesky reporters.

  The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, terse and cold. “This is Doctor Brand of MedStar Washington Hospital calling for Governor Mitchell regarding his wife, Wendy Greene.”

  “This is he. What about my wife?”

  “I’m calling to inform you that your wife had another miscarriage and is recuperating at my estate at the direction of her father. She has had a postnatal
psychiatric breakdown of some significance. I am the hospital’s chief psychiatrist, as well as a good friend of the president. Therefore….”

  “Whoa, back up. What do you mean my wife had another miscarriage?!” Leif shouted into the phone, oblivious to the airport passersby staring at him. He had been talking as he briskly walked down the airport corridor, rolling his suitcase in one hand, phone to his ear in the other. A couple strolling behind him nearly banged into him and had to walk around, bumping into other strangers, causing a domino effect. Leif ignored them, listening intently.

  “I’m sorry Governor, but Wendy lost the baby she was carrying. She has physically recuperated but had to be treated at the hospital for severe anxiety and depression. She was released into my care for further treatment….”

  “I want to see her immediately. Tell me where you live.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll need to get her permission first….”

  “Tell me where you live or I’ll find it myself!” Leif yelled, exhausted and irritable from the international flight.

  “Hold just a minute.”

  Leif paced in the middle of the busy airport, wildly distraught. A security guard who had been informed by someone witnessing the spectacle walked up to him, but was stopped in his tracks by Leif’s glare.

  “Governor is everything alright…?”

  Leif nodded, finally realizing he was causing a scene, and forced himself to calm down.

  Doctor Brand returned on the line.

  “She said she is feeling up to seeing you. Here are the directions….”

  When Leif arrived at the gabled stone mansion, he was informed by the on-call visiting nurse at the house that Doctor Brand had been summoned into the hospital for an emergency.

  On Wendy’s request, the nurse left the room to give the governor and his wife privacy, but not before instructing Leif not to “disturb” her patient unnecessarily, warning him she was under strict orders to maintain an atmosphere of calm.

  When the nurse was out of earshot, Wendy broke down and told Leif everything that had transpired while he was away.

  “How could you cheat on me with that…that Arab woman over there?” Wendy raised her voice. “I was pregnant with your baby!”

  They heard a knock on the door. “Is everything okay Mrs. Greene?” The nurse’s sharp voice crackled.

  “Yes, we’re fine.” Wendy took a deep breath, calming herself. She then put her hands to her belly, cradling it as if her womb wasn’t really barren as she rocked back and forth in a big wooden rocking chair.

  Leif looked around the room, noticing Wendy’s surroundings. Doctor Brand had tried to make her living quarters cheerfully feminine. But in her current frail state, the room made Wendy look like a little girl. She started to cry quietly as she rocked back and forth. Her shoulders shook as she wept.

  Leif immediately went to her and knelt down beside her, reaching out his hand to her shoulder to comfort her, but she looked up at him with her miserable, mascara-streaked face and shoved his hand away.

  “Wendy, none of that is true. Whoever told you I had an affair was lying.” He stood up, looking helpless and confused.

  “Are you calling my father a liar?”

  “Your father told you I was cheating?”

  Both Leif and Wendy knew if they raised their voices they would lose their privacy, so they struggled to keep their voices to a strained whisper.

  “He showed me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he gave me photos that showed you and your lover hugging, kissing, going into the hotel together….”

  “I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t what you think. I was just her escort. She—”

  “Stop.” Wendy’s tone was flat with resignation and exhaustion. “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies. I did what I had to do.”

  Understanding dawned on Leif’s face and his voice came out a cracked whisper. “Please don’t tell me…did you get rid of our baby because of what your father told you? Did you have an abortion?”

  Wendy sadly nodded.

  Leif balled his hands into fists of silent rage. “How could you?” he hissed, pacing the room like a panther. “I don’t know why your father made up these lies, but so help me I’ll—”

  “He wants to kill you, you know.” Wendy’s soft tone of grief turned hard with anger.

  “We’ll see about that. I’m going to get to the bottom of all of this.” He walked toward her and knelt next to her again. “Look, even though I’m upset about this, I know it’s not all your fault. And it’s not mine either. None of what your father said is true….”

  “Just get out.” Wendy sighed with resignation. “We’re done. My father made sure you could never hurt me again. I signed the divorce papers his attorney friend drew up, so all you have to do is sign them and you can get on with your life. My father took care of me, Leif. He’s not the liar and the cheat. You are. So just go.”

  Leif stood up and hesitated, unsure what to do.

  “Go! Get out!” Wendy suddenly shrieked and the nurse burst through the door.

  “Mr. Mitchell, I’m afraid you’ll have to go….”

  “That’s okay, I’m leaving.” Leif quietly turned away from Wendy, who rocked back and forth, her head turned from him now as she stared out the window. The nurse comforted her patient. Leif left the room, softly closing the door behind him. And then he leaned against the wall and wept, his shoulders heaving, mourning the second child he had never gotten to hold.

  Leif finally sniffed and choked down his tears, willing himself to think. He tried to put it all together: Jordan’s warning about the mission overseas, and now the abortion and the divorce. It all made sense to him now. Martin Greene really did despise him for some insane reason and wanted to get rid of him.

  Leif sought out Ray Silas to confide everything Wendy had told him.

  “How do you know she’s not crazy and what she’s saying is true?” Ray sipped lemonade from his wicker rocker on the old-fashioned porch that wrapped around his Southern plantation-style home in Alexandria, Virginia. He was wrapped in blankets despite the warm summer dusk that fell around them.

  Leif noticed Ray’s health had deteriorated rapidly since the last time he had seen his mentor and friend several months ago. A mini-stroke had turned Ray’s graying hair white, and had slowed down the eighty-three-year-old Republican Party leader to the point where he wasn’t making any public appearances. He was still sought out by dozens of politicians and government officials for his sage advice though, which he meted out from the confines of his home.

  He had always had a special place in his heart for Leif Mitchell. Leif was like a son to Ray, especially since he and his own sons had never been close. But more than that, he believed Leif was truly destined to be a great leader. That he was a man after God’s own heart. Ray suppressed a knowing smile. Right now Leif just didn’t know it. But give him time….

  “I asked for hospital records, which confirmed it all.” Leif paced back and forth across the wooden slats, his voice raised. “Can you believe that Martin actually had his own daughter have an abortion just to get at me? He killed our baby! His own grandchild! And then he had divorce papers drawn up. And to top it all off, the man is so crazy he committed Wendy to a psychiatric institution! Now he’s got her housed with her psychiatrist. He’s got her locked away so she won’t tell anyone.”

  “But she told you.” Ray continued to rock slowly back and forth, sipping his lemonade.

  “Yes, because I think she still loves me despite her father’s lies about me having an affair. Like I’d have an affair!”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not! Ray, please, let’s focus on what’s important here. The point is, the man is off the charts with jealousy and rage, and I truly believe he wants to get rid of me. As in, permanently.”

  “You think he wants to kill you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Hmmm.” Ray sat his empt
y glass down on a small wooden coffee table and drew his blanket up around his shoulders. “Sit down, Leif.” Leif did as he was instructed. “I think you need to take a deep breath, calm down, and think about this rationally.”

  “It’s kind of hard to think rationally about someone who is so obviously irrational.”

  “Exactly. You’re probably right that he wants to kill you.”

  “Great, that’s really comforting, Ray.” Leif couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

  “But if he’s acting out of fear, which I’m sure he is, and he’s not thinking rationally, which I’m sure he’s not, then I would say you have the upper hand in the matter.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it. So what do you think I should do?”

  “The right thing, of course.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You tell me.”

  Leif frowned. He should have known Ray Silas would say that. The very wise old man had an unnerving way of guiding people without telling them what to do, letting them make their own decisions.

  “I guess the best thing I could do is nothing at all. I’m a firm believer in ‘what goes around comes around.’ I guess I just have to have faith that God has a plan, and that Martin will probably have to face the consequences of his own undoing.”

  “Sounds like the right thing to me.” Ray yawned. “I really should be getting up to bed pretty soon. Can you lend me a hand?” Leif helped Ray in the door and through the living room to a first-floor master bedroom he now inhabited alone since his wife had passed away a few years prior.

  Ray shuffled slowly and unsteadily, using a cane and the support of Leif’s strong arms. He sat on the edge of his bed. “Thanks, Leif. I’ll be fine from here.”

  “Thank you, Ray, for everything. You always know what to say.”

  “I didn’t say much of anything. I think you’re hearing a Power much greater than me. Keep listening to Him, Leif.” Ray lay down on the bed, his eyelids drooping closed.