The Broken Road (The Broken Series)

by Ruff, K. S.

  I shot him an apologetic look as we walked up the stairs. “I’m afraid I’m one of those people.”

  Nathaniel’s smile widened as he opened the door to the main lobby. “The other problem is the layout of the roads, but I have a theory about that…” Nathaniel nodded to the guard at the security desk before opening the door that led outside.

  “What’s that?” I asked curiously.

  Nathaniel winked at me. “That the roads in DC were the South’s last revenge on the North.”

  I burst out laughing. “Wow. That’s some serious revenge.”

  Nathaniel waved to another security guard, who was standing in front of Union Station. “So, where are you from?”

  I glanced at Nathaniel. “I’m from Montana. Have you ever been there?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “No. I’ve never traveled beyond Virginia and Maryland. I was born and raised in DC.”

  I was completely shocked. “Are you serious? Everything is so close here. You could be in West Virginia, Delaware, Philadelphia, or New York in just a few hours.”

  He shrugged. “My entire family lives here, and DC is a fun city. I see no reason to leave.”

  I studied him curiously. Maybe DC had some redeeming qualities after all, if someone who grew up in the district never wanted to leave.

  Nathaniel eyed the Senate Hart Building. “So, which senator are you working for?”

  I smiled. “Senator Rockefeller.”

  He glanced at me. “I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard he’s a very nice man.”

  I nodded. “He does seem very nice. He’s certainly devoted to helping people who are less fortunate than he is.”

  Nathaniel cocked his head and smiled. “We can certainly use more people like that.”

  I turned to face him as we approached the entrance to the building. “I agree. Thanks for walking me to my office, Nathaniel. That was very kind of you.”

  He handed me the briefcase. Then he pulled a business card from his wallet and tucked it in my hand. “It was my pleasure, Kristine. If you need anything at all, please feel free to call. I’m here most weekdays.” He gently patted my shoulder. “Things will get better, you’ll see.”

  As I walked up the stairs toward the glass doors, I couldn’t help but think they already have.

  I spent the entire morning digging through the monstrous pile of paperwork that had accumulated during my absence. I’d only been gone for one day to supervise the movers, and it looked like I had missed an entire week’s worth of work. I was about three inches into the pile when Patrick threw me a life preserver. “Want to go to Cups with me?”

  I glanced up from the paperwork. “What’s Cups?”

  Patrick smiled. “It’s a coffee shop in the basement of the Russell building. They have awesome coffee… better than Starbucks.”

  I set my pen down. “Nothing’s better than Starbucks.” I was testing Patrick. Starbucks was good, but I knew there was better. I really loved the little mom and pop shops that had cropped up all over Montana, Idaho, and Washington… especially the ones that roasted their own beans.

  Patrick laughed. “Just you wait and see. Come on! I’ll give you a tour of the underground tunnels while we’re at it.”

  The underground tunnels sealed the deal. As we made our way to the basement, I thought about how different Montana and DC really were. Take drive through coffee shacks for example. They were scattered all across Montana, but I hadn’t seen a single coffee shack or even a drive through Starbucks anywhere in Virginia or DC. The same held true for bagel and donut shops. They offered drive through services in Montana but not in DC. I found the lack of drive through options in Virginia and DC truly mind boggling, especially considering the crush of people living in the area and the amount of time they had to spend in their cars.

  My eyes widened in surprise when we finally reached Cups. The place was essentially a windowless office converted into a coffee shop, but it had a very long line. I figured that was a good sign. I was even more surprised when I took my first critical sip of Cups’ toffee nut latte. I had to admit Patrick was right about their coffee.

  “I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot of time at Cups,” I mumbled around a mouthful of scone. The chocolate chip orange scone was about the most decadent pastry I had ever eaten. We nursed our coffee as Patrick guided me through the underground tunnels. Our first stop was the Senate Dirksen cafeteria, which was swarming with people.

  Patrick waved to another staffer who was walking by with a tray. “The cafeteria serves breakfast and lunch. The food is good and it’s cheap.”

  I nodded. “Good to know.”

  Shortly after leaving the cafeteria, we entered a modern looking corridor where I made a surprising discovery. “I didn’t know the metro ran under here.”

  Patrick laughed. “That’s not the metro. That’s the Senate Subway. It connects all the senate buildings to the Capitol.”

  I stopped abruptly. I was totally enthralled with the discovery. “Can we ride it?”

  Patrick chuckled. “Sure. We’ll catch it on the way back.” He continued walking down the corridor that ran alongside the train track. Artwork from a nearby elementary school lined the entire walkway.

  I trusted Patrick knew where he was going until my surroundings started looking a bit sketchy. We had just entered a narrow corridor that appeared to be from a different century. “Patrick, are you sure it’s okay for us to be here? This area doesn’t look like it’s intended for the general public.”

  “We aren’t the general public,” Patrick reminded me. “We’re under the Capitol building now. We’re allowed to be here as long as we have these.” Patrick flashed his Senate badge at me.

  I studied my badge. “I didn’t realize this gave us access to the Capitol.”

  “Oh, yeah. I can show you all the places the general public never gets to see.” Patrick winked at me. He was clearly enjoying his role as personal tour guide.

  The Capitol was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen. I couldn’t stop gaping at the artwork or the architecture. The gleaming Brumidi Corridors offered the grandest and most ornately painted walls I’d ever seen. The marble stairs that led to the old Senate and Supreme Court chambers were worn down in the center from so many feet passing over them. Goose bumps danced along my skin when I thought about the historical figures who had walked down those very same steps. I could have spent months inside that building and still not seen all the beauty it had to offer.

  Patrick and I caught the Senate subway back to the Hart Building. By the time we settled back in at our desks, I had a whole new appreciation for my senate fellowship.

  * * * * * *

  It was four-thirty on Friday. Senator Rockefeller had just left with “the book.” Rumor had it he was heading to West Virginia for the weekend. All work was abandoned when he walked out the door. Everyone began discussing their plans for the weekend. My plans weren’t terribly exciting since my primary objective was to get through the boxes still crowding my apartment.

  About thirty minutes after Senator Rockefeller left, Jonathan, Patrick, and I went to explore the cause of a huge ruckus that arose from the ground floor of our office suite. When we rounded the corner to the conference room, I came to a screeching halt. The office manager was handing out what appeared to be Samuel Adams and Yuengling beer. I turned toward Jonathan and whispered, “Does Senator Rockefeller know we’re doing this?”

  Jonathan laughed. “He paid for it.” He stepped forward to grab a beer.

  I was speechless. Patrick handed me a beer. Jamie joined us as we wandered back up to our desks. She perched on the edge of Patrick’s desk as she relayed stories about some rather outrageous constituent calls she had received earlier in the day.

  I took a long swig of Yuengling and set the bottle on my desk. I eyed my phone. I was itching to call Charlie and Kimme. They would never in a million years believe I was drinking a beer in the U.S. Senate. I dialed the toll free number Charl
ie had encouraged me to use.

  “Senior and Long Term Care, Charlie speaking.”

  I smiled at the sound of his voice. “Charlie? You’re never going to believe what I’m doing right now!”

  Charlie chuckled warmly. “Wait. Kimme is sitting right here. I’ll put you on speaker phone.”

  Kimme’s voice suddenly rang out. “Hi-ya honey bee!”

  I felt myself relax for the first time in days. “Oh my God. You sound so good! I miss you so much.” I grabbed my beer, leaned back in my chair, and propped my heels up on the desk. “I have so much to tell you guys. Do you have time to talk?”

  “For you? Always,” Charlie replied.

  I caught Charlie and Kimme up to speed on everything that had happened to me since arriving in DC. They couldn’t believe I was drinking beer at work. Kimme thought it was awesome. Charlie… not so much. They took turns filling me in on everything I was missing at my old job. I closed my eyes and let their stories wash over me. It felt like we were sitting around my desk talking shop, just like we always did. I made it through the phone call without crying. The beer helped. A lot.

  Jamie, Patrick, and Jonathan gathered near my desk. “You ready to head out?” Jonathan asked.

  “Am I ever!” I shut my computer down and reached for my purse.

  “We’re heading over to Union Station for dinner and drinks at Thunder Grill. You should join us. They have mango margaritas…” Jamie suggested enticingly.

  “A mango margarita? Well, as tempting as that sounds, I’m barely capable of managing rush hour sober, and I think I’ve hit my limit with this beer.” I tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin. I really wanted to join them, but I had no interest in driving home in the dark. Besides, Cade was waiting for me.

  Patrick reached for my briefcase. “Walk with us, then.”

  “Sure,” I responded gratefully. We joined the throng of people exiting the building. Soft jazz drifted over us as we walked down Second Street toward Union Station. I peered around the people walking in front of us. “Where is that music coming from?”

  “There’s a sax player who plays for tips down at Union Station. He wasn’t here earlier this week, but he’s around most of the time. He’s good isn’t he?” Jamie responded.

  I nodded. “Yes, he is. Quite good.”

  Jonathan had been walking in front of us, but he slowed and matched his pace with mine. “Do you work out?”

  I gave him a curious look. “Yes. Why?”

  “Your commute would go by a lot faster if you waited until rush hour died down. Senate staff can join the gym at the Thurgood Marshall Building at a discounted rate. If you joined, you could hit the gym after work instead of sitting in traffic. Your commute would be a piece of cake by the time you were done working out, and you wouldn’t have to go to the gym after you got home.”

  I briefly contemplated kissing Jonathan. “That is a brilliant idea! So brilliant, in fact, that I’m going to head over there now to sign up.” We were nearing the Thurgood Marshall Building so I turned to say goodbye. “Thank you guys for helping me get through this first week. Have fun tonight.”

  “Have a good weekend, Kri,” Jamie and Jonathan both responded.

  Patrick gave me a one armed hug. “Drive safe.”

  I went to check out the gym. It was small but doable. I completed the required paperwork, then hurried down the stairs to the parking garage. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could lounge around in my pajamas with Cade. Sadly, Cade wasn’t the only thing waiting at home for me. There was a mountain of boxes with my name written all over it.

  * * * * * *

  I settled into a nice routine at Senator Rockefeller’s office. My commute proved quite manageable once I began delaying the start time and working out at the gym. My work days were long, but the weekends were proving even longer. I enjoyed my time with Cade, but I was sorely lacking a social life. Despite the frequent calls back home, I felt utterly alone. I knew I had no one to blame but myself. Jonathan, Patrick, and Jamie had repeatedly invited me to dinner, drinks, and weekend house parties, but I always declined. If the truth be told, I was too scared to drive through DC alone after dark.

  Today was one of those rare September days when the humidity had been replaced with crisp, cool, breathable air. I thought about how much I missed being outdoors as I made my way toward a worn wooden bench in a heavily treed park, which was tucked between the Senate Hart Building and Union Station. The park offered a welcome reprieve from the noise and chaos that formed the fabric of Hill life. The trees were just beginning to hint at their fall colors, and I found the patchwork canopy of green, gold, orange, and red leaves comforting.

  All thoughts of work faded away as a friendly gray squirrel jumped up to join me on the park bench. He was clearly hoping to share my lunch. I was thankful for the distraction so I indulged him.

  He cocked his head at me when I offered him the last piece of bagel. His question was clear.

  I showed him my empty hands.

  With a quick flick of his tail, he scampered off in search of another meal.

  I took a deep breath and savored the musky smell of turning leaves. I was wearing slacks, so I kicked my heels off and hugged my knees to my chest. A sudden wave of homesickness washed over me, causing my vision to blur with tears that had been held at bay for far too long. I choked down a sob as I tucked my face into my knees. I tried to make myself as small as possible, so no one would see me cry. I sat like that for some time, completely curled in on myself, until a shadow fell over me.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  I swiped at my tear-stained cheeks as I lifted my head from my knees. “Hi.”

  “Would you allow me the honor of singing you a song?”

  I studied the young black man standing in front of me. He had warm brown eyes that hinted at a smile. His dark curly hair was closely trimmed, and his shirt and khaki pants looked worn but clean. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t bring any money with me.”

  His eyes softened. “I only want to see you smile.”

  I stared up at him, both fearful and flattered. “Okay,” I reluctantly agreed.

  The young man reached for my hand as he lowered himself to one knee. I hesitated, for just a second, then placed my hand in his. His eyes met mine as he softly began to sing.

  My breath caught. He was singing the lyrics from Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love.” His warm falsetto tone wrapped around me like a soft velvet blanket. The entire park hung suspended in time as he sang the lyrics to the song.

  A number of people clapped as he finished the song. He rose to his feet, then gently kissed my hand. He smiled as his eyes met mine. “You have a beautiful smile,” he said. He bowed slightly as he released my hand. Then he turned and walked away.

  I had no idea who the young man was or where he’d come from, but he had single handedly erased all of my pain.

  * * * * * *

  The next morning, Senator Rockefeller invited me to join him for a meeting with a policy advisor from the Kaiser Family Foundation. He wanted to discuss the Medicare Early Buy-in Bill that I was drafting. While I had accompanied the senator to hearings and watched him speak on the Senate floor and at public policy events numerous times, this was the first time I had been invited to attend a private meeting in his office. I wasn’t sure if it was his large frame, his family history, his deeply intelligent eyes, or the power that rolled off him in waves, but Senator Rockefeller seemed larger than life to me. I was completely intimidated by him.

  When Jamie directed Ms. Feinstein and me into the senator’s inner office, I was surprised to see him abandon the position of power behind his desk. He shook Ms. Feinstein’s hand as he joined us on the other side of the desk. Then he motioned us toward a group of comfortable chairs, which were nestled under a large ink wash painting. The painting depicted a whimsical Japanese landscape.

  Senator Rockefeller offered us drinks before folding his large frame into one of the chairs. I listened attentive
ly to the banter between Ms. Feinstein and Senator Rockefeller. I was uncertain of their relationship at first, but I soon realized they were friends who shared a deep desire to improve access to health care.

  Ms. Feinstein set her Diet Coke on the coffee table. “So, Jay, have you decided how you’re going to vote on the legislation eliminating the estate tax tomorrow?”

  I was a bit surprised by the question. The bill she was referring to was deeply controversial, and it wasn’t related to health care.

  Senator Rockefeller eyed his friend thoughtfully. His fingers were steepled under his chin. “My wife is probably going to kill me, but I cannot in good conscience vote for that bill.”

  “Why not?” Ms. Feinstein inquired. The amused look sparking in her eyes gave me the impression she knew exactly why the senator wasn’t voting for this bill.

  Senator Rockefeller scowled at his friend. “The only people this legislation helps are wealthy people like me… people who, quite frankly, don’t need the tax break. The bill doesn’t benefit the vast majority of people living in West Virginia. In fact, this bill will adversely impact them because it reduces funding for programs that help low income individuals.”

  I was certain my jaw hit the floor, but I was too stunned to pick it back up. I had always been impressed with Senator Rockefeller’s commitment to helping disadvantaged people. This commitment was what had initially drawn me to him, but killing this bill would have huge implications for his family. He was clearly putting the needs of his constituents above his own; and with that act of selflessness, my respect for Senator Rockefeller grew by epic proportions.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Ms. Feinstein confided with a knowing smile.

  Senator Rockefeller’s eyes met mine. “Kristine is our new fellow from the John Heinz Foundation. She’s been drafting a bill that would allow individuals who are ages fifty-five to sixty-four to buy into the Medicare program.” He smiled encouragingly as he turned the conversation over to me.