The President

by Parker Hudson

  “We seem to be a week or two ahead of the original schedule,” the captain finally said, trying to engage his sometimes enigmatic passenger/leader in a conversation.

  “Yes,” Sadim replied, shielding his eyes from the bright winter sun as he examined the work above them. “At least in the ship’s readiness. Hopefully our special gift will also be ready on rime.”

  “But everything goes well below, does it not?”

  “So it seems, by the grace of Allah. But there is still much to do in final preparation. Plus installing the listening and defensive devices. Much to do. And we must be completely ready to sail into the Atlantic in early November to arrive at our destination on time.”

  “Yes. The American Thanksgiving is when? Late November?”

  “The last Thursday. But we must be in place several days earlier. And sometimes there are storms at that time of year, as you know better than I. So we must remain hard at work. Much better to leave early than late.”

  “Much better,” the captain agreed.

  CAMP DAVID—Christmas morning in the Maryland mountains dawned clear, bright, and cold. By common agreement everyone came to Laurel Lodge at eight to see what Santa Claus had left the younger members of the family, followed by breakfast and general gift opening. William could hardly remember a morning when he had been happier, and he expressed that joy openly to Carrie and to anyone else who would listen. Looking out at the clean snow shining gloriously in the sunshine, he felt as if he were finally on the first page of the second book of his life.

  William and Carrie wanted to read through the several books and papers they brought to study over the weekend for their special project, but they knew they would have more time during the coming week, which William had been able to carve out for a working vacation. Michael Tate and Joe Wood had arranged for a group of special visitors at Camp David, starting Wednesday afternoon. But this day was a special day with the family, so they settled into chairs near the fire at Laurel Lodge to watch the children try out their new toys and to talk with the far-flung family, while the smell of roasting Christmas turkey began to fill the air.

  William was helping his nephew, Hugh’s son, Todd, replace a battery in a new portable computer game when Rebecca and Bruce entered the lodge and made their way from child to child, looking at their gifts. The phone rang on the table next to Carrie. She answered and smiled. “Yes, Hugh, Merry Christmas. Jenny and your family are right here.”

  Jennifer and her children moved into a small alcove near the kitchen door to take the call from Hugh in Barcelona. Rebecca, sipping some hot chocolate, came over to William and Carrie. “I told Courtney I’d call her about noon in St. Louis. I’m curious to hear what her boyfriend’s family is like.”

  Carrie smiled from her chair. “Sounds serious.”

  “Maybe. Courtney’s twenty-four. If it is serious, I just hope he’s a good man. She’s had her share of questionable ones. And not growing up with a father at home, she may not be the easiest woman for a man to live with.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Carrie said. “Courtney’s very sensible.”

  “I know,” Rebecca agreed. “But relationships always need more than sense. I hope she can give.”

  Bruce walked over, also carrying a mug of hot chocolate, clearly agitated about something. With only a glance toward the president and first lady, he said with haste in his voice, “Come on, Rebecca, I told Peter we’d help with the sled they found in the tool shed.”

  “Merry Christmas, Bruce,” William said from his chair.

  “Yeah. Thanks,” he replied, looking away toward the door. “Come on, Rebecca.”

  “But it’s so cold, and I—”

  Rebecca’s reply was interrupted by William. “Is something wrong, Bruce? It’s Christmas morning, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know, Mr. President.” He finally turned and looked at William, who was still sitting next to Carrie. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke, “but, yeah, I guess something’s wrong. I couldn’t believe what you said last night. Do you have any idea how depressed you’ve made me? I...I believed in you—a lot of people believed in you.” He paused, his distress obvious. “And now I find you’ve sold out to the bigoted junk your sisters been selling.”

  “How can we be bigoted, Bruce, by simply trusting God?” William asked in a calm voice.

  “Religion. We elected you to move our nation forward based on sound programs of fairness and justice. Now I suddenly find”—his voice rose so much that Jennifer looked over from her phone call—“that you’re a Christian!” He moved his hand through the air, a note of despair in his voice. “You’ve sold out! You won’t move us forward—you’re heading us back to the Dark Ages. Look at what’s been done in the name of religion—war, inquisition, pogroms, overpopulation, Ireland, slavery, Yugoslavia, hate—I can’t believe it! It’s certainly a Merry, Merry Christmas for those of us who were naive enough to trust in you!” As he concluded with a note of derision in his voice, everyone else in the family was listening to him, except for Jennifer, who was trying to talk to her husband, her hand over one ear.

  William paused before answering. He looked at Bruce, who was upset, hurt, and angry, then at Rebecca, who appeared startled and embarassed, then back at Bruce. Finally, William said, “Bruce, there’s so much I want to say to you, and in most ways I feel inadequate. But let me touch a few points. First, I admit that in some extremes the Christian religion hasn’t always been what God intended. But those are the exceptions. I’m really talking about faith in Jesus Christ, not organized religion, anyway. But in just those recent periods when Christianity has been strongly revived in men’s hearts, look what has followed: universities, hospitals, schools, orphanages, child labor laws, the abolition of slavery, first in England, then America, the civil rights movement—not to mention the huge wave of brave men and women who founded the American colonies and then made the nation grow, one small community of church, school, and courthouse at a time. Of course no one ever hears about all this in school, so I don’t blame you for not knowing about it.

  “And, if you want to make an unbiased list of what various movements have brought in their wake, try the ones that were or are openly hostile to the God of Judaism and Christianity—Communism, Nazi-Socialism, and the more radical branches of Islam. How much suffering and how many tens of millions of dead bodies do these isms, based on forced acceptance, claim? At least Christianity is based on repentance and a voluntary personal choice, not on a gun held to the head.

  “Anyway, I spoke last night about what God has done for Carrie and me as individual sinners. Yes, frankly, I’m very worried about our nation. And, yes, we’ll change our approach to some issues and try to do what the Lord has long ago laid down as the way to live. But it won’t be following anyone’s specific religion, and it won’t be the Dark Ages. In fact, God’s way should free people from fear and hate—that’s God’s promise to us, if we follow his commandments.”

  “So you’re suddenly going to start interpreting God’s will for us? What are you, Mr. President, some kind of a prophet? Will we sit at your feet while you tell us God’s truth? I can’t wait!”

  While Todd began speaking to his father on the telephone, the others who were standing or sitting nearby, including Rebecca and Mary, shifted uncomfortably. Bruce’s attack seemed so rude and so out of place on this holiday morning.

  William smiled. “No. I promise not to be a prophet, Bruce. But I do honestly believe that after a lot of prayer and reading, God has given us some ideas on what is wrong with our nation and on how to begin to approach these problems for healing with real solutions.”

  “See? You do think you’ve heard God’s voice! This is insane! Rebecca, I’ve got to go outside. I can’t stand it. Our president is suddenly listening to God, and we’re in trouble.”

  William continued in a calm voice. “Bruce, it’s not that I’ve heard some message that has me heading down a new course I’ve inven
ted. What I’ve heard is just old truths, tried and tested over centuries, that we’ve unfortunately forgotten or ignored for the last forty or so years. I’m not proposing a new course, Bruce, but instead a return to a well-proven old course. And I’m still not exactly certain about any of the specifics. I’m still praying and reading and listening.”

  “The Dark Ages. Back to the Dark Ages. Anti-everything. A presidency based on myths and stories. I can’t believe it. Come on, Rebecca. I’m going, whether you come or not. I need some fresh air. There’s too much hot air in here.”

  Rebecca looked back and forth between the two men, torn between her brother and her boyfriend. “Okay, I’ll come,” she said to Bruce. Then she turned to her brother. “William, I’ll be back. And I want to hear more.”

  William smiled at her and stood up. “Sure, little sister. We’ll see you at Christmas dinner—unless that wonderful smell of turkey is a myth.”

  Bruce turned and walked quickly to the door, not looking back. Rebecca followed him, but took time to say a few words to the children. Jennifer said good-bye to Hugh and came over to the fireplace where the rest of the family was still gathered. “What happened?” she asked. “I was trying to talk to Hugh and listen to you at the same time.”

  “How is he?” William asked.

  “He’s fine. He said to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. They visited a famous monastery yesterday, and he says they had a great turkey dinner... but what happened here?”

  William remained standing, with Carrie, Mary, Graham, and their children nearby. He looked crestfallen. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at his wife. “I’m really great at sharing my faith, aren’t I? I couldn’t explain how my heart feels one-on-one, so how will I ever do it to the nation? And I’m particularly proud of my last barb—I’m sure Jesus would have done that. What’s that Joe said? Meet people where they are? Instead, I ran them off.”

  Carrie moved close to her husband and took his arm. “I thought you did fine. And that last comment may stick with him. Who knows? Remember, Joe also said that each of us is to move another person just one step closer to God and not expect miracle conversions at our feet. And I dare say you’ve made Bruce think more about God in the last two days!”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want his thoughts to be negative.”

  “William,” Mary said, “every time I share my faith I feel I’ve botched it. Later I can always think of things I should have said. But God says he’ll give us the words that are right for that time and not to worry. I remember once when I heard someone else sharing his faith, and I was convinced he was doing a terrible job. But then I noticed the tears in the eyes of many of the people who were listening, and a lot of them decided to give their lives to God that day. So we just can’t judge God’s work with our own imperfect yardsticks.”

  “But Bruce seemed so negative and so angry,” William continued.

  “William, the Bible also says that until God lives in us, we won’t understand spiritual things. What seems obvious to the believer is gibberish to the unbeliever. Wisdom follows faith. And faith by definition defies logic, or it wouldn’t be faith. Bruce is like most people today. It takes role models who can tell you what living by faith is like to prepare you to accept God. The tragedy is that, unlike years ago, someone like Bruce sees almost none of those role models. Where would he? On television? At the movies? On the news? In school? In college? At a church he doesn’t attend? So then when someone like you does come along, you’re not the tenth or twentieth person with faith he’s ever known or known about—you’re the first. And everything in him says it can’t be real because he has no spiritual frame of reference at all.

  “God’s been banned from all public discussion, political debate, courts, schools, entertainment, history books—for whatever convoluted reasons. So people like Bruce can’t know his wisdom because they can’t accept faith, and they can’t accept faith because they don’t know anyone who has ever lived by faith, either now or in history. An equal competition between God and secular thought isn’t possible when by definition the secularists have excluded God from the stadium.”

  When Mary finished, William smiled broadly. “Wow, big sister. Have you ever thought about speechwriting? That was really right on.”

  Mary blushed, suddenly realizing that all the adults in the lodge had been listening to her. “Oh, I was just more or less quoting some things our pastor and Sunday school teacher have said recently. That’s all. I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

  “Unfortunately for our nation, you make a lot of sense,” Carrie said.

  “I do feel a little better,” William said. “I’ll keep planting and watering with Bruce when I can—and with Rebecca. Now, let’s turn back to the reason for all of us getting together. Todd, here, show Uncle William how that computer game works.”

  17

  The real object of the First Amendment was not to countenance, much less to advance, Mohammedanism, or Judaism, or infidelity, by prostrating Christianity, but to exclude all rivalry among Christian sects, and to prevent any national ecclesiastical establishment which would give to an hierarchy the exclusive patronage of the national government.

  JUDGE JOSEPH STORY

  NINETEENTH-CENTURY SUPREME COURT JUSTICE

  Friday, January 11

  Almost Three Weeks Later

  NEWYORK—“Either they’re all lying, or they truly don’t know, Ryan. And I’m still not sure there’s anything to know,” Leslie said, as she and Ryan Denning looked through the summaries of the visitors who had apparently come and gone to the White House in the evenings and on weekends for the preceding month. The small conference room table was covered with the remains of their lunch and the reports her team had pieced together by watching the gates and talking to members of the staff. “I’m not even sure what we’re looking for.”

  Ryan removed his reading glasses and put down the one-page summary on Reverend Robert Ludwig, who had visited the presidential quarters at least twice during the month. There were similar studies on several economists, political scientists, journalists, and professors.

  “This all seems pretty normal to me,” she added. “A president needs advice, and these people are all in the advice business. Most are associated with think tanks or universities.”

  “Yes. But they’re all either outright Christians or conservatives. Until today I wouldn’t have classified William Harrison as either of those.”

  “Not all of them. Sally Roe is with the House of Hope school in the inner-city of D.C.—she’s a firebrand,” Leslie said, looking through the other papers.

  “But her message is usually about self-sufficiency and against government programs. Everyone knows her message may be relevant for a tiny minority but will never help those who need it most.”

  Leslie pushed back from the table and sighed. “You’re right, Ryan. These are not the same sort of people who were advising Harrison this time last year at the end of the transition. Or the sort of people on his own White House staff, for that matter.”

  “And you don’t think his top advisors are even aware of these visits?” Ryan asked.

  “No. From what I can tell, they’re either working on the tensions in the Pacific, redoing the domestic legislative package, buttonholing Congressmen, or working on the president’s State of the Union address. The White House is a pretty busy place right now, and I think most of them have never taken that much interest in what the Harrisons do at night in their private life, anyway.”

  “But is this private?” he asked again.

  “A good question, Ryan. I don’t know. Some of it may just be more advice on this polygamy thing. The VP has gone ballistic, as you know. Last night she apparently told a United Association of Women conference in New Haven that legalized polygamy is a plot against all women. It’s really kind of funny to hear her talking in favor of families with only one husband and one wife at home—it’s almost like she’s jealous that men will have too much fun! So these are s
trange times, Ryan, and maybe the president is just trying to get a moral handle on some of this craziness before the Supreme Court rules on another issue and throws the nation for another loop.”

  “Moral handle I can accept. But then why only Christians? Why not Buddhists, Hindus, and Muslims? I tell you, Leslie, I can’t believe it, but it looks like the president may be listening to Christians! And that scares me. The next thing you know, he may have kids believing in prayer and even praying in school—or come out against abortion.”

  “Come on, Ryan. Not William Harrison. No way.”

  “Well, let’s continue to watch and to ask. You’re right, we don’t want to make more of this than it is. But on the other hand, if the president is being advised by some new shadow cabinet of Christians, we in the press have a duty to disclose it to the nation.”

  “Agreed,” Leslie said, as she stood up. “I’ll try to find out what the Secret Service knows, too. In the meantime, we’ve got those spots to tape, and then I have to catch the shuttle.”

  “Okay,” he replied, rising. “But first let’s warm up for the weekend.”

  She smiled but pushed away his advance. “Come on, sweetheart, you’ll mess up my lipstick And I haven’t exactly heard an answer to the question I asked you over Christmas.”

  He held on to her hand and replied, “I know, but you will. Just let this divorce get a little further behind me. You know I love you, Leslie. I just can’t think about marriage again right away. But soon!” he added, as she pulled her hand away and turned toward the door.