The President

by Parker Hudson

  It had been after one in the morning when she unlocked the door to her apartment and suggested he fix himself a drink while she checked on her sleeping children who, as usual, had been cared for in the late afternoon and put to bed by Eunice’s sister.

  In almost no time Ben and Eunice were together in her bed, and she was again surprised by his gentleness. But then, an hour later, as he put on his clothes to leave, he asked her, “How much?”

  At first she hadn’t understood, but when he repeated the question with his wallet in his hand, she realized that he expected to pay her. The realization left her momentarily speechless. She didn’t know whether to laugh, to refuse, or to be mad. Then she thought about her kids. She had no idea “how much.” Finally she said, “Whatever you think.”

  He had put some money on her bureau and walked over to run his hand down her cheek. “I hope we can do this again sometime,” he said.

  “Yeah. Me, too,” she had managed to smile.

  He had left what—thirty minutes ago? She hadn’t moved, except to curl into a fetal position. She didn’t know how much money was on the bureau. When the door closed behind him, she felt a chill, and she had been cold ever since, despite the blanket.

  Money going in and money going out. This might get to be a pretty good business. She tried to rationalize and laugh it off, but she couldn’t manage it. The confusion and the chill wouldn’t go away. This isn’t what God wants. This isn’t right. But God wants me to provide for my two children, and I am. What’s wrong with that? I don’t do drugs. I work hard so they can eat and have a place to live. And I try to be their mother. No, you’re no better than a whore, and mothers aren’t supposed to kill their babies... But other little kids need the organs, the doctor said. It’s better for them, but what about the baby we could have made tonight? How about his or her life? Is he just a thing?... O God!

  Eunice rolled over on her other side. Wiping tears from her eyes, she felt very, very alone. O God, please help me! I guess I’m a hooker now. Please, God, help me and my kids. What am I supposed to do? It’s so much money, and we need it bad You know how much we need it. But please, God, don’t let me do what I’m not supposed to. Please, God, help me. Please!

  It took Eunice another tormented hour to fall asleep, while inside her womb, cells were already dividing in the miracle of new life.

  A MEDITERRANEAN PORT—Sadim entered the captain’s cabin on the Bright Star to have breakfast. Before sitting down with the captain and Kolikov, Sadim crossed the cabin and turned on the television. He changed the channels until he was satisfied that they could receive World News Network from their position in the shipyard.

  “I’ll try not to bother you,” he said to the captain as he sat down at the table, “but I want to watch President Harrison’s address live, tonight.”

  “Why?” the captain asked. “That will be about two in the morning when it starts.”

  “I know, but there are few predictable times when I know he will be on, and I always like to watch him. I learn something about him every time.” And we’re sending him a little present in honor of his speech he drought. “So tonight I will watch and listen to his second State of the Union Address, as they call it. If he even dares to have a third such address next year, after our visit, it will be interesting to compare them!”

  The other two men seated at the table nodded approvingly.

  WASHINGTON—“We’ll be going over to the Capitol at seven-thirty. You’ll enter the House chamber a little after eight, when all the networks will begin their coverage,” Chris White explained, while the president walked and he rolled from a luncheon with key congressional leaders in the cabinet room down the hall to the Oval Office.

  “Just like last year.” William smiled as he took a list of his afternoon appointments from Barbara. “And those guys at lunch sounded just like last year, too, didn’t they?”

  “Pretty much,” White replied. “We’ll make advance copies of your speech available in the press room starting at five this afternoon, on the usual basis that no one can quote from it or be specific with references until after you’ve given it.”

  “Fine. Sounds like we’re ready to go. I know the speech pretty well, but I’ll look at it again late this afternoon. Now I’ve got to meet with the Japanese foreign minister about their never-ending trade surplus. Is that it?”

  “Yes. We’re set. See you tonight at seven-thirty.”

  As William glanced through his messages he noticed one taken by one of the two receptionists who answered the private lines in the outer office. She had neatly typed on a White House message pad:

  A gentleman called from The Council. He said to wish you a Happy New Year and to tell you that this is the year. He said he’d be watching your speech tonight. He said to be sure to tell you that their work is almost finished and that you’ll definitely hear from them soon. He wished you good health. He didn’t leave a return number but said you’d understand.

  BOSTON AND WASHINGTON—“Hello.”

  “Is Bruce there?”

  “Just a minute...”

  “Hello.”

  “Bruce?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Leslie Sloane.”

  “Oh. Hi. How are you, Ms. Sloane?”

  “I’m fine. And please, it’s Leslie. I’m sorry we’ve had so much trouble getting together since yesterday, but with the president’s speech in a few hours, it’s kinda hectic here.”

  “I can imagine. Listen, that’s why I’m calling.”

  “The president?”

  “Yes. I think I’ve got some information you in particular might find interesting. But, like me, you’ll also probably find it depressing.”

  Leslie sat down at her desk and took out her notepad. “What is it?”

  “Can I tell you something as an anonymous tip, without your having to say who told you?”

  “Yes, of course. But then, even more than usual, I’ll have to check out whatever you tell me with other sources, since otherwise it’s just hearsay or rumor.”

  “Oh, what I’m going to tell you is true, all right. And I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding other sources to back me up, once you hear it.”

  “Well, we’ll do it on that basis, then. An ‘anonymous steer’—how’s that?”

  “Fine.”

  “So, what is it?”

  “The president is a Christian.”

  Leslie was silent for a moment. “Well, I was raised as one, too.”

  “No, I mean a born-again, fundamentalist, bigoted white male Christian of the first order—just like the Prescotts.”

  “William Harrison?” Leslie sat up straighter in her chair. “That’s a pretty strong accusation, Bruce. How do you know?”

  “Because he told me, as well as everyone else at Camp David, on Christmas Eve. So there’re lots of people, including the staff, who you can check with. But I promise you it’s true.”

  “It would certainly explain a lot, particularly the activity this weekend...” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. So, did he tell you anything more? How is his new faith going to affect his policies and programs?”

  “That he wouldn’t say. He was very cagey. You know how they are. He said he had to pray some more before he could be sure! Can you believe that? William Harrison!”

  “I’ve covered him for several years, and I have to admit it’s hard to imagine him as a born-again Christian fundamentalist.”

  “Well, get ready to believe it.”

  “Do you think he plans to announce it—or make reference to it—in tonight’s speech?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him. Ms. Slo—uh, Leslie, he’s going to try to undo so much that’s important—I just know it. We’ve all believed in him, and now he’s sold us out. You’ve got to unmask him for what he is and try to rally support for all the good things he originally stood for.”

  “If it’s as you say, Bruce, I agree. We
’ll definitely check into it further. I don’t know if we’ll have time before tonight, but actually we’ve already been scratching the surface a bit. It’s too bad we can’t use your name. Then we could go with it right away, maybe even on tonight’s news.”

  “No. No, you can’t. He asked us not to tell, but I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. So I’m telling you. But I don’t want him to know that I’m doing this.”

  “I won’t divulge my source. But we’ll start checking around for others who will speak on the record. Anyway, thanks, Bruce.”

  “Thanks to you. And good luck.”

  As soon as she hung up, Leslie turned to her assistant who was passing outside the office door. “Has the courier arrived yet with the text of the president’s speech? Please go find Ryan. He flew in to co-anchor with me tonight, and I think he’s over in Al’s office. Thanks.”

  WASHINGTON—The first family had decided to have a light meal at six, then meet together again after the speech. After they finished eating, the four of them gathered in the living room of their private quarters and prayed for the Holy Spirit to be present in the House Chamber that evening. Then William went to their bedroom to change.

  In the churches of the five ministers who had been teaching the Harrisons, prayer groups had been meeting and praying since Sunday after their worship services; now the five sanctuaries filled again as the congregations reassembled to pray for the president. In Raleigh, a large number of the Prescotts’ friends met with them and their church’s staff in their chapel to add their voices to the chorus being lifted up to heaven for protection and guidance that evening.

  Michael Tate and the other four ministers walked as close as they could to the Capitol building, then fanned out around it, praying and interceding in Jesus’ name against the forces of darkness that indwelt the whole area.

  “I’ve checked the entire speech. There’s nothing about God or Jesus or the Bible or anything,” Leslie said, as she and Ryan sat with the evening news producer, and the clock ticked down to their news broadcast’s sign on.

  “Could this Bruce guy have been imagining things?” Ryan asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know him that well. But he seemed perfectly rational when we interviewed him with the president’s sister.”

  “And there’s no other corroboration?” the producer asked.

  Leslie tapped the table with the eraser of her pencil. “This just dropped on us late this afternoon. We’re looking to find anyone who would have been at Camp David besides their family, but it’ll take some time.”

  “Well, reading through his speech for tonight, which is plain vanilla political rhetoric from last year,” Ryan summarized, looking at his two colleagues, “and with no one else saying anything, I don’t think we can use this on the news. But keep looking for someone else, and if we can corroborate, maybe we can bring it in during our analysis after the speech. What a story, if it’s real! And if it’s true, we’ll have a lot of work to do in the coming months. Now, that leaves the evening news intact, so let’s go do it. We’re on in ten minutes.”

  Ninety minutes later Leslie and Ryan moved across the U.S. Network’s Washington studio to a set that had been especially prepared for political coverage, resplendent in red, white, and blue. The network planned to continue this design, with its colorful waves and subdued stars, throughout the upcoming campaigns for the House and Senate that November. With the regular news finished, they now carefully scanned the text of the president’s speech, looking for any rare statement that could be considered controversial or newsworthy, then checking with the experts they would interview after the speech—four of their own reporters, two television political pundits, and a cabinet member from a previous administration.

  Precisely at eight o’clock the light on the number one camera glowed red and the two anchorpersons, Leslie on the right and Ryan on the left, began their coverage of the State of the Union Address, with a huge screen showing the exterior of the Capitol building bathed in light behind them. As all of the nation’s major networks completed their top-of-the-hour commercials and switched live to the common feed from the Capitol, William Harrison stood with the House of Representatives’ sergeant at arms just outside the historic chamber, smiling at the surrounding well-wishers and thinking of the incredible acts of bravery, cowardice, sacrifice, and selfishness that had taken place over the decades in those same halls and chambers, permanently affecting the farthest reaches of the world.

  As he closed his eyes for a moment to offer his own silent prayer for guidance, strength, wisdom, and God’s Spirit, it occurred to him that the whole world looked to the men and women who occupied this place and the surrounding buildings for truth and leadership in a world turning increasingly splintered, violent, dark, and hateful. He felt a sudden chill and opened his eyes just as the sergeant at arms opened the tall door and walked in to announce his arrival. May this be for your glory alone, O Father. Not my words but yours be spoken. Amen.

  “The president has shaken hands with just about everyone along the central aisle,” Leslie Sloane said, voicing over the picture of William Harrison as he walked into the hall, offering his personal greetings to the assembled political and judicial might of the nation and moving toward the steps leading up to the central podium. There he shook hands with the Speaker of the House and the vice president, who would be seated behind him during his speech. Behind all three of them was a large American flag hanging down the entire back wall. And throughout the seven minutes it took William to make his entrance and to be introduced by the Speaker, the applause had been almost continuous.

  Smiling and looking physically fit and confident, his graying hair adding a distinguished touch, the president waved several times from the podium, but he also used those moments to locate Carrie and his children in the balcony. Husband and wife locked eyes for a moment, and her solid smile and nod gave him a boost he could feel. It overcame the nagging doubts that had crept up so quickly as he had walked down the aisle, surrounded by so much that was familiar, comfortable, and unchanging. As he reached the podium he had been tempted to open the text left on the lectern for him and ignore the different, more difficult road he knew God wanted. But with Carrie’s spiritual support he again felt a chill, which this time visibly shook him. He grew serious, said a last silent prayer, and reached into his suit pocket for his text.

  After several final waves of his hand, the chamber fell silent. William Harrison looked around at the most powerful assembly in the world and began.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, members of the House of Representatives, justices of the Supreme Court, members of the Cabinet, distinguished foreign guests, and citizens of our nation, it is our custom every year at this time for the president to give his assessment of the state of our historic union and to use this occasion to chart a course for the following year.

  “In this age of media-defined reality, of image over substance, of positive projection for favorable instant polls, and of instant solutions to oversimplified problems, we are tonight going to try something different. We’re going to travel a different, more traditional road not seen in this setting for many years—a road of truth over image, honest assessment over impossible promises, and long-term cures for long-term, complex problems. We are, in short, going to give you a real state of the union, focusing unfortunately on our problems, because they could shortly overwhelm us, but then also offering a specific program of workable but difficult solutions, and leaving the outcome where it always belongs—with you, the people.

  “If you listen closely tonight, no matter what your political persuasion, you will undoubtedly find one or two subjects in this assessment not to your liking—you’ll probably disagree with them. I can’t help it. I believe with all my heart that what we are going to lay before you tonight is the absolute truth. I’m at peace that we must face these issues now, today, if our nation is going to survive, and I don’t use that overworked term lightly. I mean it quite literally—if w
e are to survive much longer in this world as a nation of free people with free institutions blessed by the God who made us. You will have to decide, as will every American, whether the truth we lay before you tonight is worth accepting for our nation’s sake, even when it is personally unpleasant or temporarily inconvenient. Please listen, wait, and see.”

  William could feel the silence in the chamber and noticed members of his audience looking questioningly at one another. His heart rate, already high, increased. Again he felt momentarily unsure. The thought crossed his mind to stop and to pick up the other text, to start over. But then suddenly he was at peace, ready to tell God’s truth to the nation. As an affirmation to himself, he smiled briefly, picked up the text that had been left at the podium, and moved it to the side.

  “Before we really start, let me apologize to those of you with an advance copy of the anticipated text of this speech. We won’t be using it. And you can turn off the Teleprompter. Those words don’t address the real state of our union. Listen carefully, and we’ll tell you the truth here. Then we’ll make copies available tonight for your review. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but the road we are going to outline begins now.”

  “What’s he doing?” Leslie asked Ryan, as they watched the monitors built into their desks.

  “I think you can call off the people trying to find someone who was at Camp David, Leslie. I don’t think after tonight we’ll need any third party corroborations of what has happened to him. We’ll only need to find out why.”

  As William began his speech the vice president and Speaker of the House were clearly visible on the nation’s televisions. Patricia Barton-North looked down at her hands in her lap. But when William first mentioned God, she suddenly glared at the back of the chief executive’s head.