Suddenly, one man asked, “You mentioned educational reform, what would you like to see?” I was more than happy to reply, “I would like to see de-centralization of education, a voucher system that would allow parents to send their kids to small, specialized private schools that emphasize much more creativity and individuality – of course with an emphasis on knowledge. Oh and I support efforts to make sure administrators in all schools protect children from bullying. I would also like to make sure children that are home-schooled are able to get that voucher money as well.”
The Swedish group seemed puzzled with my remarks, whispering comments to each other in Swedish as if I was able to understand their secret messages. One then asked, “Don’t you believe in proper socialization? I mean, shouldn’t your central government have final control over education?” I flatly said, “Absolutely not!” They were silent until one other delegate commented, “We have vouchers, but the state maintains control over the curriculum of all schools. If we didn’t, eventually we would have some schools teaching intolerance and religion, their religion, as the only answer and that is not part of our democratic society.” I was getting really irritated at this point and snapped, “So you believe democracy requires central authority? Isn’t that fascism?”
At that Faber noticed the increasing tension of the encounter and tried to draw attention away from our debate. I was not going to allow that! I asked, “So why have private schools if the state controls everything? I want more creativity, less centralization and teachers who are not afraid to question authority!” The more outspoken man answered, “You don’t want rogue teachers, do you? Isn’t it best that teachers follow a set plan throughout an organization or country?” Thinking back on Mark I stated, “Yeah, if you want robots.” and folded my arms and stared at my opponent. Mr. Faber was then successful in putting an end to the encounter by directing the group to a couple of waiting political advertising consultants. As they all walked away together Faber turned and gave me one of those “if looks could kill” expressions as he led the delegates to their next activity. I walked over to the representative I had come in with the previous day and commented, “And those are conservatives? Wonder what liberals are like there.” He sighed but said nothing. I then excused myself to go back to my office.
When I arrived the woman who had come to see me was sitting in a chair in the hallway. I looked at my watch – she had been waiting for almost an hour and a half. I apologized for the delay but she stood up and excused herself for bothering me. I invited her into my office.
She began to explain why she wanted to see me, “I saw your article in the newspaper. I hope and pray that you can help me. You see, my sister, my little sister Tamilla, has not contacted my family for over a year.” Before she could go on I asked, “Where are you from?” She replied, “I grew up in Novgorod, Russia. I am here searching for my sister.” I replied, “Your English is perfect.” to which she thanked me and continued, “My sister and I were tutored in English by our uncle who used to serve in the Russian intelligence. He had been stationed in California for over twenty years so was fluent in English.” I told her I was impressed. She continued, “My family, especially my uncle, has done everything to find out where my sister wound up. She had answered an ad for modeling in Seattle but we warned her against going. She did not listen, she was the rebellious one in the family, and she left. She was supposed to meet up with our cousin but he never heard from her. The day we said goodbye to her at the airport in St. Petersburg was the last anyone heard from her. I have searched leads from San Francisco to British Columbia for months. I feared she might have wound up in some sort of sex trade as many Eastern European women are tricked into such things. I think Portland is where she might be since I interviewed two prostitutes there who said they had seen a Russian girl who looked just like my sister. One said she had seen the girl working in a local strip club, but would not tell me anything more.”
I then remembered I had to set the appointment with Detective Sanger. I asked, “You know there is not much I can do for you in my position, but I have talked with a woman who is in charge of looking into sexual slavery and her name is…” Katja sprang up, “What, Joyce Sanger?” I leaned back in my chair and answered, “Why yes, that is the person. Have you talked with her?” Katja said she had, but without giving details she asked, “Could I take you out for lunch and we can talk about this?” I had hoped to leave as soon as possible to be with Matt for his birthday but for some reason I accepted her invitation. I did not know this girl but for some reason I trusted her, or maybe I was intrigued by this beautiful, exotic young woman so without hesitation, I offered to drive – after all, she was the one paying.
As I was gathering my things together Faber walked in. He completely ignored my guest and in a huff asked, “What was it you were trying to prove in there?” I suppose like a child I replied, “They started it.” He shook his head as he looked at the floor, “You don’t understand…those people have connections that extend far beyond the tiny country our ancestors came from. You really have a lot to learn Mrs. Lindberg!” I was about to defend myself but he continued, “So the word is that you don’t want to run for congress. I think you should reconsider.” I turned and walked to the window, “I’m going to have to decline.” He approached and stood between me and the window, “Again you think you are the center of all this? If you think I’m the one who came up with this idea then you are dead wrong. I personally think you are a self-obsessed know-it-all who craves the lime light. However, there are those who want you in Washington, and I am not talking about the state.” I asked, “Who is it you are talking about?” He shook his head and walked to the door, “Think about your future Mrs. Lindberg…and that’s as much a warning as a piece of advice!”
The young woman looked perplexed at the scene she had just witnessed. I commented, “Don’t worry Katja; he’s kind of a jerk. Let’s go and have that lunch, okay?” While I gathered my things I asked if she had spent much time in Salem, and if she knew of any nice places to go. She said she had not but she liked Mexican food very much. While walking down the capitol steps to visitor parking I suggested, maybe for the novelty, or maybe for old time’s sake, the restaurant I remembered from the night Nicole and I encountered, and killed, the pimp. Maybe the idea of sex trafficking and this woman’s plight inspired me to choose that location.
We arrived at the restaurant and sat at the corner table – ironically, I believe that was the same table ten years earlier that our little group had sat. Katja and I ordered, and she then wasted no time in getting into details, “Mrs. Lindberg, I have talked with detectives across the northwest. Sanger was nice, but when I told her about the positive identifications from the prostitutes of Tamilla she said she would look into it. Yet how could she be sincere if she did not ask me for anything? I had to ask her if she wanted a picture of my sister! I know she was covering up something – I could feel it in my heart!” She seemed quite passionate as she explained the encounter. I promised, “I will look into it personally. I will meet with her soon.” Katja then said something odd, “Mrs. Lindberg, I do not know why, but I feel a sincerity and goodness about you. I know I can trust you.” She then wrote her number and email address down and asked me to tell her what I found. We then sat there and ate our lunch – with the conversation shifting to me asking about her life.
She told me about growing up in Russia, and how she and her sister dreamed of someday maybe coming to the USA. I asked her if she had any other siblings – she did not, her sister was all she had. I commented, “That’s too bad. Someone as smart and intelligent as you should have lots of brothers and sisters.” She laughed, “You sound like you are from the Russian government – they want people to have more children. So how about you…do you have any siblings?” I shook my head no, but I let her know, with my usual touch of enthusiasm and pride, “I have four children – three girls and one boy.” Katja sat up with her eyes wide open, and exclaimed, “Wow, you are a superwoma
n! I envy you.” I asked, “You want kids, don’t you?” She leaned back, reflectively replying, “I would love having children someday, maybe not four but who knows? Problem is, it is so hard to find the right kind of man – please don’t feel I am insulting America or anything but…” My mouth was full so I motioned her to continue to which she rolled her eyes, “I have dated a few American men, and more Russians than I would like to admit. Your American men are nice, but they are scared to commit to a woman. Of course, Russian men will commit, but the price they demand is the surrender of your freedom.”
I was caught off guard at that moment. Maybe this girl not only looked similar to me, but felt like I did as well! I commented, “I am lucky, my husband loves me for who I am, no matter what – weaknesses and strengths. He also loves children.” She of course could have no idea of just how tolerant Matt was of me, or just how committed to family he really was. It was sad I could not brag about him in the manner he so rightfully deserved.
We began to talk about lots of topics – our views of modern men, children, raising children, you name it. I found her stimulating, and was enjoying our discussion, but then I looked at my watch – it was already 2:30! Here I was, having bragged about my husband, but forgetting the fact he was home by now and probably waiting. I sighed, “I really need to go but I will most definitely contact you and maybe have another stimulating conversation over lunch.” She laughed, “I would like that.” I continued, “Okay, well I will meet with this policewoman and then we can set a date up for lunch again.” Katja looked at me funny and said, “Uh…you mean lunch, not a date sort of date.” I nodded my head, “Hey, just lunch.” She stood up, “I am sorry. It’s just all these damn gay people in the USA have put me on edge. Can you believe that I have been hit on over a dozen times by women since I have been here? It’s totally sick!” I noted the irony of her statements in my mind but ignored them as I merely replied, “I promise I will do my best to help you find your sister.” I then drove her back to the capitol, let her out and, for some reason volunteered to walk her to her car. I asked, “Where are you staying?” She replied, “Up in Portland for now, how about you?” I laughed and said I lived there as well. Before she opened her door she smiled, gave me a hug, thanked me and kissed my cheek, not a fast peck like one might see Russians do on a TV show but slow and soft. I do not know why, but for some reason I felt a spark of some attraction to this woman. As she got into her car she said, “I hope to talk with you later my friend.” I sought for something to say but merely replied, “Uh…yeah.” I turned and walked quickly to my car trying to figure out what had just happened. Yet I quickly discounted anything more meaningful than her just being friendly; after all she seemed quite homophobic.
On the way home I marveled at what the day had presented me. I had wound up in a battle with a group of Swedes, a fight with a top Republican leader and had spent the early afternoon with a beautiful Russian girl. I did not know what was propelling me, but I felt like the challenge of solving the mystery confronting Katja was something I should use my talents towards. I mean, it was weird, it was not really my problem but it seemed exciting on some level. And for some reason I felt it would give me a chance to see Katja again. I did not really understand why, but I knew there was a reason our paths had crossed. As for Faber I concluded he was lying about some important people wanting me to run, he was just desperate to force the Democrats to have to waste time and money on beating me, which was probably a foregone conclusion anyway. However, I had to put all those thoughts out of my mind and concentrate on rushing home. I could only hope Matt and Nicole would forgive my being late.
Chapter 3
I finally arrived home around 4:30, parked the car and rushed inside. The children all ran up and grabbed my legs. While I was greeting them I noticed Nicole was rocking my daughter in her arms and giving me a stern look that almost was as threatening as Faber’s had been earlier. Then Matt came down the stairs and took me in his arms. The children darted off into the kitchen screaming “cake, cake” and after they rounded the corner Matt looked around to make sure everyone was focused on other things before giving me an incredible kiss that made me forget about the events of the day; and brought me back to what mattered – my family and loved ones.
I wished him a happy birthday and he joked, “Oh don’t remind me, this is the last birthday while I am in my 40s. Next one will be the half-century mark.” I laughed, “Well, nobody would ever know you are as old as you are, but you can prove your youth this evening when the kids are in bed.” Matt squeezed me, and raised me into the air, “I guess I can do that, but we will have to schedule, well…you know.” Yes, I knew what he meant. One awkward part of our marriage was scheduling intimacy when there was something special like a birthday for instance. I knew that Nicole expected some quality time with Matt that evening, but so did I. We usually managed to work out something fair each time, but I did not look forward to negotiating with Nicole at that moment. I would just let her have Matt first that evening.
I caught up to Nicole in the kitchen, pouted and asked for her forgiveness. Her frown turned into a smile as she handed Magdalena to me. She rolled her eyes, “Why is it that I can’t ever stay mad at you?” I answered, “Because you love me so much?” We both laughed as I whispered to her that she could celebrate alone with Matt first that evening. She thanked me and promised to make sure he was awake when she sent him to my room.
Although we still had both houses Nicole and her children rarely stayed at my old place anymore. The only time they were not here was when we had to host guests from Matt’s Portland office, or when someone from church was to visit. All the rest of the time Matt and I had the largest room, which we shared with the baby, Nicole had the second largest and we had my other three children in one room, and Nicole’s in the other. We realized that at some point we probably would have to sell my old house and find something across the street perhaps so both families could be closer, or invest in a home big enough for all of us to be comfortable. A lot depended on if Matt could change his assignment so he could work in Portland and not have to travel to Tokyo anymore. Of course we also had most of the money from Vincent and Bethany hidden in a safety deposit box at our bank so finances were not really an issue, we just had to sit down and make a plan.
It was a beautiful birthday party. I enjoyed the children’s enthusiasm; so much so that even though I knew they would be hard to put to bed that evening I volunteered to take on the task, if Matt and Nicole wanted their time alone. Nicole smiled before going upstairs and quietly asked, “You know, we could give him a birthday he would never forget.” I raised my hand, jokingly like I was going to hit her but she knew I would never do that, and growled, “Get up there or else!” She laughed and ran up the stairs.
After getting the children in bed I sat with Magdalena on the couch and watched some TV. She was soon asleep and maybe around 10:30 Matt came down and put his arms around me. I softly told him, “I am so glad you are home. I hope you enjoyed your birthday and the present.” He sat down and nodded approvingly. He then asked, “Melanie, we have a really complex lifestyle. Does it bother you knowing that just a few minutes ago I was with Nicole?” I shrugged my shoulders, “No, why should it? I mean, does it bother you that while you are away she and I are with each other?”
Matt responded in a matter-of-fact manner, “No, it really doesn’t anymore. I just want you to be happy and so if I have to share you with Nicole then so be it.” I was glad he was so tolerant, but then he asked, “Do you think that it would affect our relationships if I was here all the time? Right now you have half your time with Nicole and half with me. Yet if we all were with each other all the time would that be positive or negative for you?”
I thought for a moment and commented, “Well, it would change things, but I am sure we could work out some sort of schedule. It would be better for the children to have you here all the time and I would love it. So why are you asking?” Matt responded, “I may be able to ge
t a position which wouldn’t require travel to Japan anymore. So then we could go ahead and start looking for a different place to live – where we could all fit comfortably.”
I was happy, although I had grown accustom to our arrangement for the last few years. Now that the children were getting older they soon would have to be home-schooled on a more regular basis and having Matt would make the task much easier. I relaxed in his arms, until I was sure Magdalena was asleep, and then we went up to our room for a pleasurable end to a hectic day.
The next morning I awoke alone – it was nearly 9:30. I could smell pancakes and sausage so I threw on my bathrobe and slowly walked down the stairs. The scene was so…family-ish! Nicole was setting the table and getting the children seated, and Matt was at the stove helping to get breakfast ready. Without saying a word I leaned against the doorway and watched this picture-perfect family of ours – and suddenly I felt so…happy. I would never trade anything for them. Suddenly, my son Alex noticed me and yelled, “Hey Mommy!” and ran to me. Soon I was tackled by all the children and a tickling match began until I settled them down and squeezed each one, letting them know my appreciation for them.
Descent Into Darkness Page 4