Pulling Cara to her ponderous breasts, she squeezed tightly. "Please, please take care of my little leprechaun. She's been the light of my life. I can't imagine how dreary it will be here without her, but it will be better for me if I know she's happy. I will be giving you your statement, eh?"
"Thank you. And thank you for taking care of Jessica for the first twenty-nine years of her life. I promise I will take care of the rest." As she spoke, Mrs. Anderson's cheek against hers, she tasted the salt from their intermingling teardrops.
It was before 6:30 when they arrived at the airport, too early to draw attention from the crowds that had not yet gathered. Barbra and Sherry stood alone at the runway gate.
"I didn't expect you to be here," yelled Cara when she saw them. Throwing down her traveling bag and opening her arms wide, she ran toward Sherry, squeezing tightly as they hugged. "I thought I had missed you when I didn't see you at the conference center on Friday."
"No," said Sherry, smiling happily at the success of the surprise. "I wanted to be here to say good-bye privately, but I know this is not really good-bye. Jason Simcow already called me. And I'm going to see you again. If not next week, next month. If not next month, next year, but I will see you. And I will see my mother."
"Yes, you will."
"Cara, I don't know how to thank you. You've done so much for us. So much for me." In the background, Tim and Barbra were introducing themselves to each other.
"Just keep an eye on Jessica for me. Don't let her get discouraged by the burdens of the bureaucracy. That'll be thanks enough. Besides, I could never repay your mother for all that she's done on our behalf—"
"It seems to me, my dear, that it is I who owe you," interrupted Barbra. "You're every bit as wonderful as Miriam had described you when we were aboard the Fantasia. Miriam has always had excellent taste. Now, I will go to the Scarpetti Center this afternoon, and I've already informed Sherry that I will not leave here without Jessica." Cara looked at her with surprise. "You be sure to tell that to Miriam. If she wants me to share her bed with her, she had better use her influence with President Mooran. I'm not getting any younger, you know."
Embracing her tenderly, Cara laughed, whispering in her ear, "I am not sure I have the guts to say that to the prime minister in those exact words. I might have to modify them just a little."
"Why Cara, I do believe I've shocked you. I can feel your cheeks getting hot."
"I do believe you have," she said, squeezing tightly as she saw the pilot signal that the plane was ready to be boarded.
At 4:00 a.m., Cali time, they were on their way home.
Forty
"I feel like a witch," said Cara as she watched Esther hang the Halloween decorations in the outer office.
"You're beginning to act like one." Standing on a step stool, she hung paper cutouts of pumpkins along the ceiling molding. "I have never seen you quite this cranky. You're biting off more heads than you can chew." Chuckling aloud, she climbed down. "I liked that line. I'm going to have to tell that one to Marge." Picking up two life-size cardboard witches that were almost hidden in her desk clutter, she hung one on each side of Cara's office door.
"You mean I'm going to have to look at that both coming and going?" Cara asked, sitting down in Esther's desk chair.
"Well, I could hang one on this side only—as a warning to people about to enter your office."
Cara leaned back in the chair, putting her feet on top of a crate of audio discs that sat alongside the desk. "You really should get rid of this crate. It makes the office look junky." Esther scowled at her, knitting her eyebrows together. "Damn, I have a right to be cranky. It's been three weeks since I left New York. I haven't heard from Jessica. Jody keeps telling me to be patient. President Mooran's attorney, whom I don't even know, is handling everything. Mother Sue is upset about the publicity that Jessica's arrival will generate. The PM is angry because Jessica's legal problems are holding up Barbra's emigration. I don't even know if the twin's record has been verified. And I'm worried." Sticking out her lower lip, she folded her arms across her chest with an exaggerated sigh and kicked the crate.
"I can't believe this is the mature Director of the Office for the Aging I see before me," commented Esther as she rummaged through the piles of paper on her desktop. "This came for you today," she said as she grabbed a yellow sheet in the middle of a stack. "Tim Felmar's transfer came through. He'll be reporting in as your deputy director on November 15."
"Great! The way things are going, he'll probably get here before Jessica." Getting up, she marched back to her own office, glaring at the witch as she passed through the door. "I really am happy about Tim, though," she yelled over her shoulder.
Following behind, Esther pasted a sign, labeled "Ms. Romero" to the witch's chest. "I liked Tim very much, Cara, but don't you forget your promise to me. I will continue to be your escort officer for all your travels in Cali."
"Absolutely!" Cara said, flouncing down on her chair. "Tim accepted the assignment so he could stop traveling and spend more time with his future son. Just as soon as he's comfortable as deputy director, you and I will start making trips again. We've fallen way behind on inspections in the five months since the deputy's position has been vacant."
"Sounds good to me." Esther turned around and swiftly left the room, acting as though Cara would change her mind if she waited too long.
Alone in her office, smiling to herself with thoughts of Jessica, Cara jumped when Esther knocked on the open door.
"You really are preoccupied. Well, you'd better get your act together. The prime minister's office called. She wants to see you at two o'clock. That gives you," she looked at her watch, "eight minutes."
Grabbing her jacket, she put it on as she raced into the hall and bounded up the stairs. Damn, she thought as she ran, the PM must really be upset. She never calls on such short notice. She reflected back on their last conversation. Ekstrom had been very understanding of Cara's relationship with Jessica, demonstrating a rarely seen compassion. The only suggestion of anger occurred when Cara related that Barbra refused to leave the United States until Jessica was able to leave with her. "That woman will drive me crazy!" she yelled, glaring at the framed photograph that stood on the corner of her desk. "I've waited more than thirty-five years for her to come to this country, and she's going to keep me waiting some more."
"She's expecting you," said Jonathan, the receptionist, as Cara ran into the vestibule outside the prime minister's office. Jumping up from behind the desk, he pointed urgently to the open door.
The prime minister, who rarely displayed emotion, was pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, her head hanging down, oblivious to Cara's presence. Cara felt her knees stagger and her heart lurch drunkenly against her chest. There was something very wrong. "Ms. Ekstrom, you wanted to see me," she said loudly, running her fingers through her hair.
"Yes. Yes." She grabbed her by the hand and pulled her over to the transmission machine standing against the wall. "This terse message came through from President Mooran's office."
Cara grabbed the sheet of paper that the PM stuffed in her hand and hastily read it aloud. "Henry Mooran will hear the meadowlark sing on November first."
Collapsing into the chair that sat at the front of the prime minister's desk, Cara began to laugh, slowly at first, but more heartily with the passing moments. Doubling over, her hands pressed against the pain in her stomach, she lowered her head almost to her knees. Tears of laughter spattered the dark blue jacket.
"Cara," said the PM, trying to keep from chuckling, "I don't understand. What does this mean?" Laughing now, she tugged on Cara's sleeve. "You must tell me. What does this mean?" She sat down on the chair next to Cara and together, they laughed, slapping their hands against their knees, against one another, against the chair. Looking at the PM's contorted face, Cara laughed harder, setting Miriam into convulsive cackles. "Please, Cara, what does it mean?" she shrieked.
Gasping for breath, Car
a finally spoke in labored phrases. "It means, Madame Prime Minister…that we…had better take you…to buy a pair of slippers."
The Meadowlark Sings Page 19