The same caller might remind her two or three times during the conversation, as if she were demented and needed reminding, that “This affects the whole town.”
Those that convinced themselves that she did not understand the situation might express pity or at the extreme, say something nasty and hang up.
She got a few anonymous calls from people who thought she was right but were fearful lest the townspeople learn of their doubts.
Still, the number of calls was less than twenty. And she stopped answering calls whose number she didn’t recognize. They were a further burden.
At a coffee break at work, Rich Kovacs told Rasmussen that he’d read the flyer and that it made sense but that trying to stop the construction and placement of new missiles with flyers was a David-and-Goliath thing.
“Hey, Andy, I guess that O’Hare woman is a David. Are you planning to be her second?”
“I just wanted your opinion and you said it makes sense.”
“It does make sense but there’s a whole other side to the argument which I haven’t studied.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rasmussen’s office partner, Rich Kovacs, had examined the arguments for the land-based missiles but they seemed less convincing than the arguments against them.
“I did the research,” said Kovacs, “and I think you’re right. We’re less likely to have a nuclear war if we get rid of them.”
“You sound annoyed,” said Rasmussen.
“Yeah, maybe a little. What am I supposed to do, now that I think what I think? I’m a physician.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” said Rasmussen.
The president, the vice president, the mayor, and four aldermen sat behind what looked like a long judge’s bench facing those attending. The venue resembled a courtroom. A lectern stood facing the councilors.
Ordinarily these bimonthly city council meetings were sparsely attended, usually by people who had some specific concerns they wished to present to the council. Today, was no different except for the presence of a woman in black, wearing a tall conical hat.
Following the roll call, pledge of allegiance, approval of minutes, and the adoption of several resolutions came the personal appearances.
Edna O’Hare was the first at the lectern.
“Your honor, members of the council, thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak. My name is Edna O’Hare. I’m here to talk about the Ground-Based Nuclear Deterrent, generally known as the GBSD.”
In her allotted five minutes she gave reasons that the GBSD must not replace the Minuteman and the Minuteman itself should be scrapped.
Except for Rasmussen, the council members, looked grave, not having been fully prepared for this. When she’d finished and it appeared his fellow councilors had no questions for her, indeed wishing they had never given her this platform, which included a YouTube video of the meeting, Rasmussen spoke.
“I would like to add that I agree with Ms. O’Hare. As a physician I feel obligated to share my concern about these land-based missiles which make nuclear war by mistake more likely than it would be without them. I look at this as a public health issue. If I were aware that a certain food was tainted, say lettuce harboring E. coli, I would warn people against it.”
The council was stunned, and alderman Earnest Schmidt was incensed, but the mayor, in order to minimize the added attention O’Hare would get if aldermen began vociferously objecting, prudently moved on to the next agenda item without comment.
When the meeting was over, Mayor Gustafson asked that the aldermen remain for a closed door session. After the visitors and the videographer had left the room, the mayor said, “What in blazes was that all about Andy? Why didn’t you warn us?”
At the last minute, before anyone but the mayor knew about the change but was ignorant of the topic, Rasmussen had put Edna onto the agenda. Had Schmidt or some of the others known, they might have let her talk but would not have allowed her to be videoed for YouTube.
No one thought quickly enough to stop the video from being made.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I thought… I don’t know.” Two little white lies. He felt bad about it, but what was there to do.
“This is like stabbing Minot in the back,” said Schmidt. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Or to put it another way, you gave Minot a black eye. There are some more choice words I could use but I won’t.
“We had to say what we said,” said Rasmussen, “but you know as well as I, this isn’t going to stop the GBSD program so why get so riled up about it?”
“I told you why. It makes Minot look bad to Grumman. They’ll be less likely to contract with our businesses now.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where else are they going to go for supplies? Grand Forks? They’re working on the Minot Air Force Base, remember. And Minot happens to be right next to it.”
“I take it you’re quitting Working Group A,” said Gustafson.
Earnest Schmidt said, “I’m disappointed in you, Andy. People look up to you. They respect you. What good does it do to put doubts into their minds if it’s not going to stop progress. And you know what else, some people are going to be scared, scared that the missiles make it unsafe to live here.”
“People are scared of rattle snakes and that’s a good thing,” said Rasmussen.
Schmidt couldn’t contain himself. He stood, wagged an index figure at the turncoat, and stormed out of the room, only to bump into Edna O’Hare who stood on the other side of the heavy wood doors, knocking her against the wall. They glared at each other silently. Before Edna regained her relative composure, Schmidt was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Well, she’d set up a table at Grumman’s industry day, argued with a general, handed out leaflets, and spoken at Minot’s town council. She planned to have a parade. She was campaigning, so why was she still unable to visit his gravesite? It was not as if she never spoke with him.
“James,” she might say, “I’m working on it.” Something simple like that. Of course, she rarely spoke aloud, or even whispered. So maybe she was just talking to him in her mind. Nothing wrong with that, was there?
When the question occurred to her she put off any prolonged effort to answer it as she might put off unpacking a box into which an unwieldy object with sharp edges had been crammed. Of course, she knew she was avoiding bad feelings but that was as far as she went.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rasmussen’s partners left at around six, but hardworking, dependable, and obsessive Margaret Axelson, R.N., was at her desk completing unfinished notes, reviewing the next day’s schedule, and simply waiting for Rasmussen to call it a day before she would be comfortable also calling it a day. It was seven thirty.
“Go home, Margaret,” called Rasmussen for the third time from his office.
“I’m working on it.”
When the phone rang, instead of letting the answering machine do its job, she answered it. She explained to the caller that the office was closed but after some back and forth, she muted the phone and went to Rasmussen’s office.
“There’s a woman on the phone who thinks she has breast cancer and insists on seeing you. I told her the office was closed but she seemed to know you were still here. She has no lesions, bleeding, infection. She was vague about a lump. Nothing she said sounded urgent, but she was very upset. She’s not one of our patients. I checked.”
“What’s her name?”
“Claudia Cummings.”
“Holy smoke!”
“You know her?”
“She’s with the Grumman group meeting with the city’s officials and business people. Tell her to come in.”
He looked at his watch.
“I hate to ask you to stay a little longer, but would you?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. You’re a peach.”
She wore dark slacks and a blue cotton blouse that matched the color of her eyes. Her glistening jet black hair was loose. Sh
e smelled faintly of apples.
In his office she explained that for some time now she’d been worrying that she had breast cancer and today she awoke convinced of it. She was growing more panicky as the day went on.
“I know I sound crazy. My mother died of breast cancer on this date.”
She knew he didn’t consider this an emergency and thanked him contritely for seeing her. Her last mammogram was over two years ago. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
He led her to a room, had her sit on the examining table; took her blood pressure and pulse; looked at her eyes, ears, nose and throat; and palpated her neck.
“Aren’t you going to examine me?”
“I am examining you. I’m not finished yet.”
He put his stethoscope on her back and asked her to cough a few times as he repositioned it.
“Okay. Now I’m going to step out for a minute. Please take off your blouse and bra, cover your chest completely with this cloth and lay on the table. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Rasmussen knocked on the door and opened it. He stepped in followed by Nurse Axelson.
“Margaret’s here as chaperone.”
“Oh,” she said softly.” Did she sound disappointed?
Standing at the examination table, Rasmussen exposed Cummings’ perfect creamy white left breast, the size of a small cantaloupe, with a pert pink nipple on a quarter-sized areola. Starting at the top edge of the breast furthest from him, Rasmussen, with fingers flat, gently pressed as he moved them spiraling inward.
She looked him in the eye the entire time, all indications of anxiety gone. She appeared entirely relaxed.
Until he covered the left breast and exposed the right, he’d maintained his ordinary medical objectivity, or so he thought, but on seeing a single black hair emerging from the edge of her areola, a disturbing but not unpleasant image, flashed through his mind: a dark mons pubis below. He was almost certain that his face revealed nothing but was still glad Margaret was behind him. He imagined that Cummings was reading, or trying to read his mind, but there was nothing he could do about that. Her expression though, had not changed even as he became aroused. After glancing at her flat abdomen, he concluded the examination by palpating her axillae, which to his amazement he’d almost forgotten to do.
“It tickles.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Back in the office, safely and discretely behind his desk, he recalled the sight and feel of her breasts.
“There’s nothing wrong, Ms. Cummings, but I can certainly understand your anxiety. How long are you going to be in town? We could schedule a mammogram.”
“Oh, no. I feel so much better, Doctor Rasmussen. Thank you so very much. If I can ever do you a favor, please let me know.”
The next day he recalled a dream. He stood on a ledge high above a small pool of cool, dark surprisingly inviting water. He wanted to dive in, but large rocks surrounded the pool. He stood there undecided. If he missed the pool he’d be dashed upon the rocks. It didn’t take long to interpret that dream. Too bad there was no one he could tell it to.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Moody at times, especially after talking with his mother or brother, and ambivalent about his decision to stay and help out, Will still energized Edna. Indeed, she wondered how she’d managed before without his encouragement.
One day she thought of going to the mall. She probably wouldn’t be allowed to set up there, but what about just sitting on the octagonal wood bench surrounding the large clock standing tall in the mall’s center? The witch, her picket sign and flyers beside her, would smile at the curious shoppers. She might even do a little shopping herself. She could think of no legal objection to her just sitting there minding her own business.
“I think I’ll go to the mall.”
“They won’t let you carry your sign around in there,” said Will.
“I know.”
“I’d better go with you. You might get in trouble.”
She did not tell him how happy she was to hear this, but her smile gave her away. Nor did she mention having invited Karen, who was unsure she wanted more public exposure.
The Dakota Square mall housed the usual assortment of stores and shops and, in addition, army, air force, and marine recruiting offices. Edna sat on the bench facing a jewelry store across the spacious courtyard, having placed her flyers to her right, her sign to her left. Will sat next to the flyers.
This Saturday morning business was brisk, and not only for the mall. They’d only been here for half an hour and already five people had taken flyers and others had stopped to talk and ask questions:
“Why are you dressed as a witch?”
“Are you the lady who made that fuss at the Grumman show?”
“You know, this is just what the Russians want. Unilateral disarmament.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You are a brave woman. That’s all I can say.”
“I’ll take one of those.”
“Well, bless your heart.”
A man got overheated, but he posed no physical threat as had the football players. He kept saying that the experts had decided we needed these rockets, and she was no expert.
“If you mean I’m not a rocket scientist, that is correct. But you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that these things are sitting ducks. They put us—the whole world actually—in danger.”
“You are wrong, madam. You are wrong.”
When, to Edna’s and Will’s delight, Karen Haugen arrived, Edna said she’d like a cup of coffee.
“I’ll bring some back. What would you two like?”
Neither wanted any coffee yet.
When Edna returned she found Will still seated, but Karen engaged with two middle-aged women, one, frowning, in yellow Bermuda shorts and t-shirt, looking as if she needed a vacation, and one in a skirt and blouse, looking puzzled. Edna took a seat and listened as Karen calmly went through the arguments for cancelling the GBSD project.
At around noon, Edna dispatched Will and Karen to bring back some food. They returned with an enchilada for Edna; a bento lunch with rice, asparagus, and sashimi for Karen; and a hamburger for Will. Edna shared her water.
Will and Karen went for a window-shopping walk around the mall, comparing their tastes in jewelry, camping equipment, video games, etc. As they passed a Victoria’s Secret window display of models in skimpy panties and bras, Will kept his eyes straight ahead, but Karen stopped to look.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Trying to answer that question might be walking into quicksand so let me just say, I do like lingerie, but I am against the commodification of women.”
“So pick an outfit,” she teased.
One of the mannequins had a gap between her teeth. He picked her and her outfit.
“Hmm,” said Haugen.
They returned to find an air force recruiter arguing with Edna. The insignia, three stripes on each wing, indicated a rank of e4, senior airman. He was from the base and Karen had met him at a party once.
“You’ve got no right to come in here and upset people,” he said.
“This stuff is upsetting,” said Edna softly, “but I do have a right to be here. I didn’t ask you to come over and talk with me. I’m not asking anyone to come over. I’m just sitting here minding my own business. They come over to ask me if I’m a witch.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.”
“Watch it,” said Will.
The airman turned to Will.
“Airmen are returning wounded or worse and she’s here putting down the air force. And with a base right here. That really stinks.”
Will came toward him. “That’s your opinion. I fought in Afghanistan; how about you?”
Instead of answering the question, the airman turned to Karen.
“Does your father know you’re here?”
“Yes, Danny,” said Karen, though it was a lie.
; “It’s not right,” he said. He marched back to his office.
“My goose is probably cooked,” said Karen, “though my dad would have found out one way or another.
Since her husband died, Edna had not come to town much because her grief or depression, or the even more potent combination of the two, weighed her down. But now in the mall she saw several old friends and acquaintances, all of whom remained friendly even after reading the flyer. They wanted to keep in touch and exchanged telephone numbers and in two cases email addresses.
“This is a very serious matter,” said Vera Jansen. “and you know how often I’ve thought about it? Never. Do you have a website?”
“No, but now that you mention it, I will get one.”
Edna turned to Will.
“Right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Early that evening, before Will left for his date with Karen Haugen, they established a website called The Missiles of Minot, which made the case that land-based missiles were completely unnecessary, exorbitantly expensive, and extremely dangerous. The site provided links to sites documenting the arguments. Comments could be left on the site. The day had been productive. Edna was tired and went to bed early but as usual, fearful of dreaming, had trouble falling asleep.
They’d made arrangements earlier in the day. Will didn’t see why he shouldn’t be able to pick her up but she said her parents would then want to meet him.
Shadows Page 15
