A More Perfect Union

by Carsen Taite

  “You look amazing,” Rook said, her eyes sweeping Zoey’s frame.

  Zoey shrugged off the compliment. For the first time since they’d met, she was dressed in civilian clothes, dark blue jeans and a heather green sweater. “I didn’t pack much in the way of casual clothes. Of course, I assumed the tour would be casual, but you look anything but.” She stopped talking, conscious of the fact she was rambling.

  Rook looked down at her outfit. “This is pretty casual for me.” She held out her arm. “Come on, I have a surprise for you.”

  Zoey’s ears perked up at the word surprise—not her favorite word—but she took Rook’s arm and followed her to the town car she recognized from the airport. Rook opened the door and Zoey slid inside, spotting George behind the wheel. “Hi, George. Remember me?”

  “Not likely to forget, Major Granger. I see you took my advice about the best way to see the city.”

  “Indeed. I hear the weather is supposed to be perfect tonight. No clouds or rain.”

  “Perfect night for a picnic, indeed.”

  Picnic? Zoey looked over at Rook who had just slid into the seat beside her. “I just booked the basic tour, nothing fancy. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Well, that’s the surprise. Now, I hope you don’t mind, because George here has obtained the tour route and you’ll get the same exact features, but without a busload of tourists. And,” Rook reached around to the front seat and lifted a basket, “I have food and wine. I figured we’d take a little break between stops.” She paused for a second. “I guess I should’ve run this by you first. I’ll reimburse you for the tickets you bought.”

  Zoey stared at the picnic basket and then back at Rook, astounded by the thoughtfulness, even if it was a bit presumptuous. Presumptuous, hell. Rook had planned the perfect evening. Who was she to throw a wrench into it? “It’s perfect. Really. And don’t be silly about the tickets. This will be so much better.”

  “You say that now, but I’m afraid I only have a passing knowledge of most of these places.” Rook pulled a book from between the seats. “I, or rather George, got us a copy of the DC Lonely Planet Guide, and I’ll be happy to look up any questions you have.”

  Zoey had a ton of questions, but none of them about monuments or anything tourist related. Was Rook always this thoughtful? How had she managed to live in a city and know virtually nothing about its most famous venues? One question topped the list. If this wasn’t a date, what was it?

  * * *

  Rook watched Zoey run her hand along the granite wall, tracing the words. The moral arch of humanity is large, but it always bends toward justice. The Martin Luther King Jr. memorial was their third stop on the tour. They’d noshed a little in the car, but Zoey had insisted she’d rather see a few of the monuments before their picnic. Rook was pleasantly surprised to find she was enjoying herself and she’d actually learned a few things along the way.

  “The book says those cherry trees over there were positioned to bloom in a particular spot so it looks like MLK is gazing at them,” Rook said, pointing at the trees.

  “I hear the cherry blossoms are a beautiful sight.”

  Rook nodded. “We locals moan about all the tourists who crowd the city to see them, but you can hardly blame them. Too bad you won’t be around to see them.”

  “When do they usually bloom?”

  “A few weeks from now, toward the end of March, beginning of April.”

  “Mmm,” Zoey said. “What’s next on the tour?”

  Rook started to call her out on the quick change of subject, certain it was a cover for something but wasn’t sure what. Could Zoey already be missing their connection? Silly really, since they’d barely met, but Rook had to admit the idea of Zoey jetting back to wherever she was assigned left her feeling unsettled. Was it possible Zoey was feeling the same? “I’m a little hungry. Ready for a short break?”

  “Sure.”

  They returned to the car and Rook told George they were ready for the next stop. When they pulled into the parking lot for Meridian Hill Park, it was deserted. Zoey looked around, the expression on her face making it clear she thought the destination was a no-go. Rook suppressed a grin and pulled out her phone. When the call connected, she said, “Hey, Nancy, we’re here…Okay…See you in a minute.”

  She slipped the phone into her pocket and reached for the picnic basket. “Ready?”

  Zoey’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded and followed Rook out of the car. Rook told George she’d text when they were ready to leave and led Zoey to the gate at the edge of the property and waited.

  “I hate to burst your bubble,” Zoey said, pointing to a sign, “but I think they might be closed for the day.”

  “Oh, they’re definitely closed. To the general public that is.”

  “And we’re not the general public.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  Rook didn’t bother hiding her grin now, but before she had a chance to explain, Park Ranger Nancy Evers appeared at the gate.

  “Hey, Rook, how’re you doing?”

  “Great, Nance. I’d like you to meet Major Zoey Granger. She’s in town for a few days and is trying to see as much of our fair city as she can.” She hefted the basket. “Beautiful night for a picnic, don’t you think?”

  “Perfect and you picked the best place in town for it.” Nancy held the gate open and ushered them through. “Text me when you’re done and I’ll come back down and let you out.”

  “Will do.” Rook waited until Nancy disappeared back into the park and took Zoey’s hand. “Shall I give you a little history of the park while we find the perfect place to have dinner?”

  “If you’re trying to impress me, you can consider this mission accomplished. What is this place?”

  “It’s Meridian Hill Park. In 1819, John Porter erected a mansion here on Meridian Hill so called because it was on the exact longitude of the original District of Columbia milestone marker, set down on April 15, 1791. In 1829, the mansion became departing President John Quincy Adams’s home. After its conversion to a public park, Union troops encamped on the grounds during the Civil War.” She paused to catch her breath, but before she could go on, Zoey held up a hand.

  “Got it. So, this is either your favorite place in the world or you memorized that out of a brochure or…”

  “What’s the last ‘or’?”

  “Or you bring all the girls here to impress them.”

  Rook laughed as she spread out a blanket and began to unpack the picnic basket. “Fair question, but I’ve never brought a girl here or anyone else for that matter. It’s one of my favorite places, but it’s always been just my place.” Rook let the words trail off as the significance of her remark hung in the air between them. Zoey stared into her eyes, and Rook could swear Zoey was trying to read her mind. Good luck with that, she thought. She didn’t know why she’d told Zoey about her affection for the park. When she played the words back in her head, they sounded private and intimate, like something lovers shared. Time to move this conversation in a different direction, preferably with the focus on Zoey.

  “I guess you’ve traveled all over the world.” Rook didn’t wait for Zoey’s response before pressing on. “What’s your favorite place?”

  Zoey broke their stare and looked off in the distance. “Hard to say. I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan, for a while. For a farm girl from Texas, it was quite a shock. Instead of acres of land with just a few people, there were people and buildings packed into every corner of that island. At first it felt suffocating, but then…” She stopped as if considering the right description. “Then it was comforting. Like when you wrap a scared dog in a blanket and pull it tight to soothe him. It was so easy to lose myself in the large crowds. No one cared that I didn’t speak the language or understand the culture. I was just swept up in it all and eventually found my way.” She focused back on Rook. “Does that sound stupid?”

  Rook smiled. “No. I totally get it. There’s fre
edom in anonymity. It can give you the space to be who you want to be.” She reached for the bottle of wine. “I guess you don’t have that anymore.”

  Zoey’s laugh was hard and humorless. “You think? I noticed it even when I was playing tourist yesterday. People would stare. Most of them didn’t have a clue who I was, but they knew they’d seen me somewhere. I even caught a few taking pictures, no doubt in case I turned out to be someone famous. Boy, will they be disappointed.”

  Rook popped the cork on the sparkling rosé and poured them each a glass. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll have a new hero.”

  Zoey made a face. “That sounds a little sappy, don’t you think?”

  “A little, but hey, a lot of people think you are a hero. I bet your parents are proud.” No sooner had the last few words left her lips than Rook noticed Zoey’s expression darken. “Sorry, that was insensitive. No parents?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t think anyone’s sitting at home in Imperial, Texas, watching C-SPAN so they could cheer me on because A, they wouldn’t know where to find C-SPAN on the dial, and B, approving of me and my choices isn’t in their playbook.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “It’s my reality, but I try not to think about it too much.” Zoey took a drink from her wineglass. “What about you? Family in the area? Do you come from a long line of fixers?”

  “Fixer,” Rook repeated. She hated the moniker since it made her sound like someone who built houses or worked on cars. “I prefer public relations specialist. My specialty is helping people and/or organizations who’ve found themselves in difficult situations navigate their way through the nightmare that public relations has become in this era of hundred-and-forty-character take downs.”

  “Nightmare is a good word for it.” Zoey appreciated the frank assessment. She’d avoided Twitter and Facebook since she’d blown the whistle on Nine Tech, but she needn’t have bothered. Every time she flipped on the news, social media feeds were the secondary source of the day.

  “And I’m the first in my family to take on this particular business.”

  Zoey studied the hard lines of Rook’s expression. “Let me guess. Your family doesn’t approve of your occupation either?”

  “They can’t really deny my success, but they pretend they don’t understand what I do. I get a lot of ‘why did you bother to go to law school?’ at family gatherings.”

  Zoey nodded, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Rook’s response to her family’s question was. She’d gone to school on an ROTC scholarship, and without it she would’ve been stuck at community college. Graduate school had been out of the question, but thankfully, she’d had the Army to supply her with options for her career. No one else in her family had attended college, let alone law school.

  As if she could hear Zoey’s thoughts, Rook added, “My family has a history of producing fat cat lawyers who work at large firms, billing big bucks to keep their clients out of trouble. No matter how hard I try to explain the similarities, my particular niche is lost on them.”

  Zoey sensed there was a deeper story about Rook’s motivation to avoid the family business, but she simply said, “That must be hard.”

  “It was, but I solved the problem by being as successful as I could and not caring what they think. Needless to say, we don’t spend a lot of time together.” Rook reached into the picnic basket. “Now, enough depressing, dysfunctional family talk. I’m starving.”

  On cue, Zoey’s stomach growled and they both laughed. With the change in tone, Zoey decided to abandon drilling deeper into what made Rook tick. Rook pulled out a selection of cheeses, crackers, charcuterie, and olives, and they dug into the food. Zoey couldn’t help but wonder if both of them were avoiding conversation until they could steer it to something innocuous, but for her part, she wasn’t sure where to begin. She liked Rook’s sense of humor and her easy manner. If they were different people in different roles, she might even consider seeing her again despite the vast disparity in the way they approached the world. Rook had grown up with every opportunity but wasted her talents helping famous people cover up their problems. Zoey had grown up with nothing and had dedicated her life to service so the world could be a better place. Okay, perhaps that wasn’t a fair comparison, but she’d seen real problems that created real news, not the gossip column problems of the rich and famous that Rook was hired to spin. Boiling it down that way made it hard to deny the striking difference. She decided to enjoy the moment and put aside deeper thoughts. “This cheese is amazing. What is it?”

  “It’s a Manchego with truffles,” Rook said. “One of my guilty pleasures.” She sliced another piece and placed it on a cracker. “Try it on this. I plan on having this at my last meal.”

  Rook reached toward Zoey’s mouth with the cheese-laden cracker. Zoey held a hand out to take the food, but before she could, Rook’s fingers grazed her lips and her traitorous mouth opened on cue and her tongue touched Rook’s skin sending currents of pleasure throughout her body. If this hadn’t been a date before, it sure felt like one now.

  A loud buzzing interrupted her thoughts, and Rook reached into her pocket with a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry,” Rook said as she answered her phone. “Daniels here.”

  Rook’s expression hardened as she listened to the voice on the other end of the conversation. Zoey sipped her wine and tried not to eavesdrop, but the urgent tone and clipped phrases pulled her in.

  “You’re kidding…How long?…And they don’t know?…Be right there.” Rook slipped the phone back in her pocket. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Is something wrong?” Zoey asked, hoping Rook’s worried frown wasn’t a harbinger of some dire personal emergency. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, it’s work. I’d send someone else, but this particular client demands my personal touch.” Rook packed up the picnic basket as she spoke. “I’m so sorry to cut our d—outing short.” She stood and held out a hand. “Rain check for next time you’re back in DC?”

  Zoey took Rook’s hand and climbed to her feet. They were standing only inches apart, and the heat she’d felt earlier flared up again. Rook had been about to call this a date and, in every way except this abrupt parting, it was one. But it was the last one. She would’ve understood if Rook had raced off to care for an ailing relative or to help someone in need, but a 911 for PR trouble on a Sunday night? Nope, Rook’s priorities were all wrong, and even if neither one of them was willing to call this night what it was, there would be no repeat performance.

  Chapter Six

  A week later, Zoey stood outside the Shake Shack at Pentagon City, the shopping mall situated one Metro stop from the government building it was named for. Building was really a misnomer for the Pentagon considering it was the size of a small city that housed about fifty times more people than the West Texas town where she’d grown up.

  Zoey had two more days of freedom before she started her new assignment, and while she was both excited and nervous at the prospect, she had more pressing issues to face. First up was defying all odds to find a place to live before she reported to her new assignment on Monday morning, and she’d enlisted the perfect person to help her.

  Margaret Sharp showed up on time, exactly what Zoey would expect from a career officer’s wife. She’d first met Margaret when she was still very green after David had taken her under his wing. She’d spent many Sunday afternoons eating way too much pot roast and then playing pickup games of touch football with the entire Sharp family at her first base assignment, Fort Bragg. Margaret had regaled her with stories about all the exotic overseas assignments David’s career had taken them on, and later took credit for Zoey’s wanderlust, but at the time Zoey was just happy to have pseudo family to call her own. The ease with which she’d fit in amongst them almost made the pain of her own family’s indifference bearable. Almost.

  “I love this place,” Margaret said. “But every time I think of it, there’s always a huge line. This worked out perfectl
y. I figure we can eat now before the crowds and then spend the rest of the day narrowing down the search for your new home.”

  Home. The word sounded so permanent, so real. Zoey hesitated to entertain the idea this assignment might result in her staying in one place for any length of time long enough to consider it home, but the prospect was inviting. She’d spent her career moving from base to base and taking every deployment opportunity she could get. Roots were for people with spouses and kids. The only long-term relationship she’d ever been interested in cultivating was with the service, and a week ago she’d thought her affair with the Army might be coming to an end. Now that she was assured a more permanent assignment, the idea of setting down roots was actually appealing.

  “I don’t need much,” she said. “A simple apartment, maybe with an extra bedroom for a study.”

  “How about a townhouse? Colonel Peters is transferring to Fort Benning, and his place is up for sale. You’d have some of the benefits of living in an apartment—no yard work, neighbors close by, but you wouldn’t be tossing your money away on rent and you’d be building some equity. We’ve been out there a couple of times and it’s a really nice place. It would be perfect for you.”

  Zoey fixated on “neighbors close by” and started to rethink the whole apartment idea. She’d lived her life in the close confines of the various bases she was assigned to, and until this moment, she assumed that was all she’d ever wanted, but that was before she’d turned on her peers and become a pariah on base. Even after she’d transferred stateside from Bagram, she’d noticed the whispers and side-eye glances from fellow soldiers at Fort Hood. Close quarters meant closer to rejection, and she could do without the reminder she was alone in a crowd.

  “You know, I think I might like to look at something different. An actual house with a yard. I realize real estate can be a little off the rails here, but I have quite a bit in savings. I’m open to renting for now just to have a place to live, and then taking some time to find something more permanent if things work out for me to stick around.”