Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2)

by Deborah Dee Harper

I raised my head; one by one, the others looked up as well. I could see a shimmer in Mel’s eyes and knew she was one sentimental thought away from ruining her makeup. I squeezed her hand gently, sat down, and pulled my chair up to the table. “Well, folks, I think it’s time to dig in and enjoy this wonderful feast!”

  I didn’t have to suggest it twice. In the twinkling of an eye, everyone had a dish or platter to pass and for a few minutes, the clank and clatter of serving spoons against china bowls and plates were the only sounds in the room. Even Frank woke up and did his part to devour some of everything that passed his way.

  I glanced at the president.

  He smiled at me then turned his attention to a bowl of potato salad Emma River handed him.

  In one of the most strategically brilliant moves of my life, I’d placed STR between Emma River, a gentle soul not yet infected with the Road’s End lunacy epidemic, and Mack. Of course, I can’t take credit for the Mack part; he’d have drawn and quartered me if I hadn’t allowed him to sit next to the president. And, yes, that made perfect sense, even though the worst danger STR would face at this gathering was a little heartburn from Ruby Mae’s twice baked, garlic-encrusted, bacon, cheese, and chive potatoes. They’ve been known to cure colds and send birds plummeting to their death from high overhead. Powerful things, those potatoes.

  Despite the relative safety of our surroundings, Mack kept a careful eye on everyone seated at the table, as well as every doorway and window. He excused himself a couple of times during the meal, presumably to check on his agents stationed throughout the house and around the grounds. I noticed the president seemed completely at ease, chatting amiably with Emma and smiling at Mack whenever he excused himself or returned to the table. President Rogers seemed to be a man who thoroughly enjoyed the company of others, but who still realized the inherent dangers and resulting safety precautions required to occupy the most powerful office in the world.

  Between bites of prime rib and some sort of too-sweet rice and miniature marshmallows confection, I watched Mandy and Jonathan. They’d insisted that Tanner be seated between them, asserting that he was every bit as important to the family they were forging as either one of them could ever be. He sat high upon two Richmond phonebooks, grinning and stabbing at his food with his fork then grabbing his napkin in a great bunch and smearing it across his face. He'd have been better off leaving well enough alone, but I had to applaud his efforts. Once in a while, he’d catch my eye, smile that goofy grin of his, and yell across the table, “Hi, Gwampa! Hi, Gwamma!”

  Mel would look at me, and we’d shake our heads and laugh at how easy it was to love a little boy we didn’t know existed just a day or so before. “Hi, Tanner,” we answered in unison. “Having fun?” He always nodded and gave us a thumbs-up.

  Mandy and Jonathan were obviously having the time of their lives. They seemed at ease with having STR at their table, chatting with him and Irene across the table, as well as with all the others surrounding them. The sound of happy voices swelled to a roar once in a while then fell to a subdued murmur. It was at those times when I could hear the music Mandy had compiled for the rehearsal dinner. It was a combination of familiar hymns, classical music, and a variety of Tanner’s favorites—songs from SpongeBob, Sesame Street, and some tune that sounded suspiciously like Farmer in the Dell.

  This was what life is all about: family, friends, food, celebrating the joyous occasions and helping one another through the mourning.

  Notice I conveniently left out the part about having the most powerful man in the world sitting two chairs away from me and a legion of Secret Service agents stationed throughout the house and around our grounds? Yes, that was deliberate.

  Aside from those minor details, life was perfect at that moment.

  And then Sadie stood up, opened her mouth, and ruined it all.

  It probably would have helped had Sadie not stood with her steak knife clutched in her right hand. Mack jumped up and his chair went flying into the living room beyond.

  Mel cringed. That chair was an original, eighteenth-century Windsor. Mel felt it was the only chair that would hold Mack’s weight and accommodate his girth, and who better to entrust with your precious antique furniture than a man who makes his living protecting life and property? I’ll bet she rethinks that the next time she works on a seating chart.

  “Sit down, Mackerel Boy,” Sadie said. “No one’s gonna hurt the Prez.”

  Mack sighed. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mrs. Simms, it’s …”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s not Mackerel Boy. Got it. And I’m not Mrs. Simms. I’m Sadie. Got that?”

  Mack took a step toward Sadie. “Oh no, you don’t, buster. I told you I was gonna have my say, and that’s what I aim to do. Now you sit right down over there …” she pointed to where his chair should have been “… and listen up. You might learn something today, too.”

  President Rogers looked about as baffled as I ever want to see my commander-in-chief look. “What am I missing here, Mack? Mrs. Simms ... uh, sorry, Sadie, I take it you have something you want to discuss with me?”

  Sadie planted her feet and pointed an accusing finger at Mack. “I sure do, and if your big galoot here had done his job, you’d know I do.”

  STR turned to stare at the head of his security team; Mack had the good sense to blush.

  Mack swallowed then said, “But, Sadie, I thought we decided you’d speak to an aide about your concerns.”

  “No,” Sadie said, “you decided that. I told you I was gonna write an amendment to the Constitution and give it to the president.”

  “An amendment? To the Constitution?” STR looked a little pale. “Mack, why didn’t you mention this to me? An amendment’s pretty big stuff, wouldn’t you say?”

  Mack nodded. “Yes, sir, I agree. But Sadie here thinks an amendment to the Constitution is in order and, apparently, she can’t be talked out of it.” He turned to Sadie. “Are you sure this is the right place to do it?” He waved his arm around at the people at the table. “I mean, this is a rehearsal dinner, after all. Couldn’t it wait just a few more minutes?” Mack turned to me and gave me a look that said get me outta this and I’ll make every problem you’ve ever had go away.

  I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I looked at Mel. She tilted her head and gave me a slight smile. Thanks a bunch, Mel. You’re a big help.

  I looked at Mandy and Jonathan with my best get me outta this, and I’ll make every problem you’ve ever had go away look. They looked at one another and smiled. “It’s okay, Dad,” Mandy said. “Let’s hear what Sadie has to say.”

  I glanced at Mack. His face clearly said I was going to die. I could only hope he’d wait until after the wedding tomorrow. After all, it’d been a rough past few hours, and tomorrow would be even more stressful; a little compassion before wreaking revenge on me seemed in order.

  The president spoke up, “Well, Sadie, it looks like you’ve got the floor. What’s on your mind?”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” she said. “And thank you, Mandy and Jonathan. Believe me when I say I’m doin’ this for you and little Tanner here and others like you all around this country.” She stepped over to the head of the table so everyone could get a good look at her.

  “Most of you from around here know me. I’m Sadie Simms. I own the Bake House and Egg Plant over there ’cross the street. Owned it for more’n sixty years now, and for the most part, I mind my own business.”

  If I’d had any spit left in me, I’d have choked on it. Mind your own business? Yeah, Sadie, you and Winnie and Martha and Ruby Mae are real good at that.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, well, you do now. Just believe me when I tell you that me and my neighbors are hard-workin’, law-abidin’ people. We keep up on the news and attend church right here at the Christ Is Lord Church even though Pastor Foster here took over from Pastor Parry.” She turned her head to look at me. “No offense, Hugh, but Pastor Parry was a good she
pherd, and he deserves credit for the forty years he spent pastorin’ us.”

  I nodded my approval. “He certainly does, Sadie. He certainly does.” I could see Perry beaming from his chair on the other side of the table. His wife, Hazel, gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  “Okay, then,” Sadie said. “To the business at hand. I’ve given this a lot of thought, folks, so shut up and bear with me.” That was our Sadie, subtle and kind.

  “You, sir,” she said, giving STR a pointed stare, “made certain promises to the voters when you campaigned for the presidency.”

  STR looked sober, but he manned up and nodded. “Yes, I did, Sadie. I surely did.”

  “Okay then,” she said. “We’re gettin’ somewhere. Basically, these promises were—correct me if I’m wrong—that you’d run your administration and lead our government with Christian principles. That you’d bring God back where He belongs in this country. Is that about right?”

  He nodded. “You’re correct.”

  “All right.” She had her hands clasped behind her back and paced back and forth while she talked. She looked a little like a frazzled-hair lawyer, and STR probably felt like he was the defendant. Suddenly, she twirled around to face him. “And did you?”

  He jumped. “Did I make the promises or run the government on Christian principles?”

  “Sir, we’ve already established that you made the promises. Did you or did you not make good on those promises?”

  “Sadie, let’s remember the president isn’t on trial here.” I couldn’t stop myself from interrupting. “Don’t you have something to give him? Then we can get on with dinner, okay? Didn’t you bring the dessert?”

  She put her hand up to shush me.

  I shushed.

  “I’m getting to that, Pastor, and yes, I did bring dessert, but don’t go tryin’ to change the subject. Now, Mr. President, have you run the government based on the Christian principles you talked about during your campaign?”

  STR took a deep breath. “May I be frank?”

  Frank stopped snoring and looked up. “What?”

  “Shut up, Frank,” Sadie said then turned back to the president. “You betcha you can be frank. Let’s hear it.”

  “May I stand?”

  “Of course, Mr. President,” I said before Sadie could refuse him.

  Sadie shot me a look but sat in her chair and said nothing.

  STR smiled at me, stood, and faced everyone around the table. He looked around, took a deep breath, and said, “Sadie is absolutely right and even though she hasn’t said it outright, I know you’re all thinking—and you have every right to think it, by the way—that I reneged on those promises. That I let you all down. Maybe you even think I said those things just to get the Christian vote.”

  The room buzzed with muffled comments and loud whispers.

  He waited a moment before speaking again. “And you would be right in thinking that I haven’t carried through. The plain and simple truth is that I haven’t.”

  More comments, louder whispering.

  “But,” he said, holding up his hand, “that was never my intention. Never. You may recall that just prior to the election, my beautiful wife, Caroline, died suddenly of a massive heart attack. We had no warning. We had no reason to believe she wasn’t as healthy and vibrant as she looked, as she acted, as she believed—and as we all believed—she was.” He looked away and studied the tabletop for a minute or so. The room quieted down, murmurs ceased, whispers came to a halt as everyone watched the president relive his grief.

  “When Caroline died, all desire to be your president died with her.” He began talking before he raised his head. “By then, of course, it was too late to change the course of the election and, in large part, I believe, because of Caroline’s untimely death and my campaign promises, I was elected.” He lifted his eyes to the people gathered around the table again. “I’m sorry to say that I no longer cared about leading this nation or fulfilling any campaign promises—promises that I fully intended to fulfill, by the way, when I made them. Worst of all, I no longer cared about God.”

  A collective gasp, followed by “Well, I never!” “What on earth?” “Oh my, oh my, oh my!” and of course, Winnie’s requisite heart seizure, followed the president’s blunt statement. He said nothing, just looked folks in the eye and took it.

  I stood to face my irate neighbors. “Folks, folks,” I said, with my arms raised. “Let’s remember where we are and who we’re talking to. We’re sitting before the President of the United States. I think that calls for some respect and quiet attention.” The comments stopped, but Winnie’s seizure continued—largely unnoticed.

  “I, for one, admire President Rogers for his candor,” I continued. “How many of us would be willing to admit something of that magnitude to anyone, let alone some of the very people who put him in the highest office in the nation?” I stared at my friends and neighbors, one by one by one. Each of them had the decency to look sheepish.

  Dewey leaped upward, ignoring his wife thrashing around in the chair beside him, and pointed his finger at the president. “I wanna know why. Why would you do that? Don’t you know how many people you’ve let down?”

  President Rogers looked almost relieved that he had a question to address. He tilted his head to one side and looked at Dewey. “Mr. Wyandotte, am I right?”

  Dewey nodded.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wyandotte. Before I answer you, though, should we be doing something for your wife? Is she all right?” He motioned to Winnie, who stopped her moaning long enough to smile coquettishly at the president.

  “No, I am not all right, Mr. President,” Winnie said as she bounded from the chair as if going for a jump shot, still clutching her chest. “I have a weak heart and hearing this kind of news …”

  Sadie jumped up, too. If she’d had the ball, it would’ve turned into a vicious game of dodge ball. “She does not, Mr. President. She’s just a big faker. Kinda like you.”

  Ouch.

  The ball was in Winnie’s court. “Am not.”

  “Are so!”

  “Am not.”

  “Winnie Wyandotte,” Sadie said, “I’m just about at the end of my rope with you. I’m about to present the President with the most important document this country has ever seen and here you are complainin’ ’bout your fake heart problems again. Just sit your … your … self down and let him speak his piece.”

  Winnie looked highly offended, but it wasn’t anything she, or any of us, for that matter, hadn’t heard from Sadie before. She sat. I noticed her heart made a miraculous recovery, but I knew that reprieve would be short-lived. For the time being, though, she was alive.

  Sadie turned back to the president. “Go on. Go on,” she said with a swish of her hand.

  To his credit, STR took her ordering him about in stride. “Thank you, Sadie. Okay, Mr. Wyandotte—and the rest of you are probably wondering the same thing—the reason I did that was simple. I’m a coward. A coward who was afraid to carry on without my wife, a coward who didn’t have enough faith in himself or in the God I claimed to love so much to take the baton and run with it.”

  He paused, took a deep breath, stepped away from his chair, and continued, “Caroline was my rock, as well as my wife and best friend and inspiration. Thinking back on it, I probably put too much stress on her and who knows? Maybe I helped bring on that heart attack. I think she knew how much I depended on her counsel, her support, her love. Problem is I didn’t. Not until I lost her. I thought I was the strong one, that I could do what I promised I’d do. Unbeknownst to me, though, I made those promises based on her being right there by my side through all of it. Once she was gone, I was lost. Totally, utterly lost.”

  He stopped pacing. He stood in front of Sadie. “Sadie, you’ve done me a great service. You’ve reminded me again of why I ran for the presidency to begin with. I believed I could turn this country back to its roots, back to the way our founding fathers meant it to be run.

  T
he room was so quiet it may as well have been empty. STR took a breath. “Sadie here did me a big favor, and if you’ll give me a bit more time, I’ll respond more thoroughly to your questions about why I failed to live up to your expectations and what I’ve decided I have to do. Right now, though, I think Sadie has something to give to me—and then we have a wedding celebration to get back to.”

  Sadie leaped out of her chair again and took up her station across from the president. “Thanks, Mr. President. Now sit.”

  I choked back a groan, and the president chuckled. “Thank you. I’ll do that.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “The floor is yours, madam.” Then he sat.

  “Okay, here we go,” Sadie said. “I told Fish Boy here I was going to deliver my manifesto to the president.” She turned to Mack. “I fudged a little about having the first draft done. Fact is, I’ve been working on the darned thing for a week now and nothing was coming. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words to say it.”

  “Well, that’s understandable,” STR said, “something like …”

  Sadie held her hand up. “Shush.” Shush? “Floor’s mine, remember? Besides, there’s nothin’ understandable about it. I know what I want, and I know how to get it. I just couldn’t figure out why what I wanted to say was gettin’ past me.” She paused and looked around the room. “Until this morning.”

  Thank goodness. Just give the darned thing to him and let’s get on with it. We have a rehearsal dinner to finish, a wedding to get ready for, and a president to keep from disbanding this town or blowing it to smithereens or whatever else he’s authorized to do to us.

  “Yep,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “This morning it hit me right between the eyes.”

  Don’t tempt me, Sadie. I stole a look at Mel, and she gave me that look that says, I know what you’re thinking, buster. I smiled and turned my attention back to the woman who was going to destroy Road’s End as we know it.

  I took a chance and opened my mouth. “What happened, Sadie?”

  “Funny you should ask, Pastorman,” she said. “Fact is, I was readin’ my Bible this morning—as I always do.” She directed that last part straight to the president. I was staring at Sadie and didn’t see if he cringed, so I did it for him.