Josiah for President

by Martha Bolton

  Josiah knew what she meant. The Secret Service had been performing their duties with outstanding professionalism, but sometimes they did too good of a job. Between the children and the Secret Service, Josiah and Elizabeth didn’t seem to ever be alone these days.

  “I’ve grown tired of our lack of freedom,” Elizabeth said. “I can hardly trim the flowers in the Rose Garden without one or two Secret Service agents hovering over me or the staff trying to do it for me. I miss the openness of our farm in Lancaster County.”

  “No limo then,” Josiah agreed. “The horse and buggy?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and smiled.

  “Then what?” Josiah asked, noticing the playful look in Elizabeth’s eye.

  Elizabeth led Josiah to the storage room and to their set of chainless bicycles, otherwise known as Amish scooters. Josiah was both surprised and pleased.

  “I snuck our scooters onto the moving truck when we left Lancaster.” Elizabeth giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “When I was busy with the horses?” Josiah asked.

  Elizabeth nodded. “And then, when the movers were unpacking the truck, I told them to tuck the scooters in the back of the storage room, and I covered them with a sheet. Think we can sneak out?” Elizabeth asked.

  Josiah laughed. “We can sure give it a try.”

  The First Couple made their way down the hallway like two teenagers trying to sneak out of their parents’ house.

  “Now it won’t be easy, but I have a plan,” Josiah whispered. “Remember that secret passageway they showed us when we first moved in?”

  “Jah,” Elizabeth said eagerly.

  “Take off your apron and put something over your bonnet. We can’t look Amish, or we’ll be recognized.”

  Elizabeth did as Josiah suggested, grabbing a cloth from off one of the side tables and draping it over her bonnet. They rolled their scooters through the secret passageway that snaked around before leading them to an outside guard shack.

  “You won’t say anything, will you, Howard?” Elizabeth asked the guard when they finally came up out of the tunnel.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am,” Howard said with a wink. “But wait, let me call an accomplice.”

  Howard made a call on his walkie-talkie and within minutes, a black SUV pulled up. It was Baylor, one of the security staff.

  “Let him load your bikes and drive you out of traffic,” Howard said.

  “I’ll drop you off at the National Monument,” Baylor said.

  Josiah and Elizabeth thanked the two guards as they loaded up the scooters. After Baylor found a fairly deserted parking lot and dropped off the president and the First Lady, they pushed their scooters along the streets of Washington, D.C.

  Josiah noticed that the Secret Service had followed them — as he’d expected they would — but he chose not to tell Elizabeth. He enjoyed seeing the childlike joy on her face at thinking she’d outmaneuvered the Secret Service. But understandably, there they were, tailing the First Couple past various monuments that lit up the darkened sky. They stayed back just far enough that Josiah and Elizabeth could enjoy their presumed privacy. But they were there.

  When it comes to the president’s safety, the Secret Service was always there.

  After about an hour, Josiah and Elizabeth returned to the black SUV, which returned them to the White House.

  As Howard let them pass back through the tunnel, Josiah nodded at him, acknowledging that he knew Howard had called Secret Service and that it was okay. Howard went along with it, continuing to let Elizabeth believe the two had gotten away with their little escapade.

  After Josiah and Elizabeth, mentally refreshed but cold and physically tired, returned their scooters to the storage room, they ran into Cindy. When Elizabeth told her where she and the president had been, Cindy laughed.

  “So is that the secret to a good marriage? Sneaking out and going for bike rides together?”

  Elizabeth smiled at Josiah before answering. “It can’t hurt.”

  THE NIGHT OF THE STATE OF THE UNION ADDRESS ARRIVED. THE congressional chamber was filled with both houses of Congress and a good deal of anticipation. The House Doorkeeper entered the room and hushed the eager chatter of the crowd by announcing, “Mr. Speaker, the president of the United States!”

  When President Josiah Stoltzfus entered, the people stood and cheered. Josiah shook hands with those closest to the aisle as he made his way up to the platform. With both the vice president and the Speaker of the House seated behind him, Josiah stepped up to the microphone, raised his hand to quiet the crowd, and then attempted to speak. But the place erupted in applause again. Finally, when the ovation died down, Josiah began his speech.

  “Mr. Speaker, Vice President Stedman, members of Congress, and the American people, tonight I am most pleased to report that the state of the Union is gut!”

  The people jumped to their feet and gave their president another resounding ovation. Then Josiah continued.

  “All signs point to a robust harvest of all that we have planted this past year. And I’m not talking about the corn in the Rose Garden … although that did quite well too. I’m talking about rebuilding trust in our government, taking steps to ensure our resources will be here for our children’s children, and making our country safer by recalculating what it truly means to live in peace. You and I have traveled a long way together. We’re no longer on the path to the right or the path to the left; we’ve stepped back to recalculate before taking the path to tomorrow. But our work is not done. There is still plenty more to do …”

  By the end of the speech, both sides of Congress were on their feet giving their resounding approval.

  Emily Watson, the network newscaster who had originally reported from the “Welcome to Lancaster, Pennsylvania” sign when this first started, took her position at the back of the room and — with the members of Congress talking excitedly among themselves in the background — she began her report.

  “The president, whose approval ratings had begun slipping a few months ago due to several unpopular decisions, needed to hit a home run tonight, and by all accounts he did just that. A powerful, moving speech. Whichever side of the aisle you’re on, you’ve got to admit this president isn’t afraid to speak his mind …”

  THE PRESIDENTIAL MOTORCADE WAS PARKED AT A SIDE ENTRANCE of the Capitol Building, and the public lined the street out front to catch a glimpse of President Josiah in person. The loyal had waited there for hours in the rain. Even Camo Man showed up, ever faithful in his attempt to get close enough to see President Josiah.

  When the news spread through the crowd that the president would be leaving by the side entrance in just a few minutes, some rushed to that area to get as close as they could to the motorcade, but the police pushed them back.

  With the rain beating down on their umbrellas and their cameras at the ready, the crowd watched as President Josiah Stoltzfus stepped out of the Capitol Building surrounded by members of the Secret Service.

  One woman with a camera around her neck angled for the perfect position. All she wanted was one brief moment when she could get a clear view of the president rather than the men and women who encircled him. And then there it was. Her opportunity. One split second and —

  BANG!

  A shot rang out, and the president fell limp, collapsing to the ground. America’s beloved Amish president had been struck in the chest by an assassin’s bullet.

  It was an image that would later be played in slow motion on every news show across the country for weeks, months, and years on end.

  There was immediate pandemonium as Secret Service scrambled into position, some throwing their bodies over the bloodied president while others scanned the crowd to see if they could see anyone with a gun.

  The lady with the camera around her neck backed away. She wanted to run, to escape the ruckus, but when she turned, she looked squarely into the face of the man who had been standing directly behind her, the man dres
sed in camouflage.

  The woman saw Camo Man look down at the gun, glistening in the rain and the moonlight, clear enough for anyone close by to see. He sees the gun! He knows I’m the shooter!

  “She’s got a gun!” Camo Man yelled. People screamed, then instantly formed a human wall around the woman as Camo Man grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her until she dropped the weapon. Camo Man took her to the ground, laying his body across hers, where he waited for the Secret Service officers and the police. The shooter kicked and screamed, but Camo Man held her fast. She muttered something incoherent about allegiance to some misguided cause and then screamed, “I am StormCloud44! The storm clouds have gathered! You cannot stop them!”

  “Shut up!” Camo Man screamed, his voice cracking with emotion.

  The Secret Service team had arrived and cuffed her hands.

  “You’re crushing me! I can’t breathe!”

  “I CAN’T BREATHE,” JOSIAH GASPED. A MAN OF PEACE, HE WAS now lying in a pool of his own blood.

  “I’m here,” Elizabeth said, trying to choke back her tears and be brave but failing at both. She held her beloved in her arms. “The ambulance is on its way. Don’t talk, Josiah. Save your strength.”

  “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  “I love you, too, my husband,” she said. “You’ve just lost a little blood, that’s all. The doctors will fix you up, and then you’ll come back home. We’re going to grow old together, remember? You promised.”

  Some Secret Service officers did their best to calm Josiah’s children and keep them back from their wounded and bloodied father, but the officers’ efforts would never erase from the children’s minds the scene they had just witnessed.

  Josiah tried to smile at Elizabeth as he struggled for air. He tried to speak, but Elizabeth couldn’t hear his weakened voice over the screams of protest coming from the heartless shooter, who was now being led to a police car.

  Within moments, another mass of police swarmed the location, their blue strobe lights flashing in the rain. An ambulance quickly followed, pulling up as close as possible to the scene.

  The police car with the suspect in it quickly left the area to protect the shooter from retaliatory action.

  As precious minutes passed, the crowd gathered at the scene waited for news of the president’s condition. Law-enforcement officers and emergency medical technicians surrounded him, making it difficult for the crowd to see anything.

  Elizabeth remained at Josiah’s side, holding his hand as the paramedics kept watch on his vitals and attempted to stop the bleeding long enough to transport him to the hospital. He was pale and weak but trying desperately to speak.

  “Elizabeth,” Josiah said, struggling for breath. “I’m sorry …”

  “For what?”

  “That it’s ending like this.”

  Elizabeth gently squeezed her husband’s hand. “But it’s not ending, Josiah,” she said. “You have too much to do to leave us. The kids need you. The country needs you. I need you.”

  Josiah’s blood pressure was dropping rapidly. He had lost an enormous amount of blood, and the look of concern on the faces of the medical team told Elizabeth more than she wanted to know.

  Josiah slipped in and out of consciousness.

  “Josiah!” Elizabeth screamed, desperately trying to call him back to her. “Josiah!”

  Josiah opened his eyes, staring off to the side. Elizabeth wasn’t even sure he could see her, but she leaned in as close as she could.

  “Elizabeth,” he said weakly.

  “I’m here, Josiah. I won’t leave you. I will never leave you, Josiah.”

  “Elizabeth … it’s beautiful! So beautiful.”

  Again Josiah struggled for breath, and Elizabeth’s lips trembled as she wept openly.

  “Elizabeth …” he said.

  “What is it, Josiah? What are you trying to tell me?”

  Josiah gathered whatever strength he had left and spoke one final word: “Forgive.”

  Josiah coughed and gasped, and then he closed his eyes and died.

  Elizabeth wept as the paramedics reverently removed their equipment from her beloved and placed his sheet-covered body onto a gurney before wheeling it into the waiting ambulance.

  A STUNNED AND CONFUSED CROWD WATCHED IN SHOCK AS MARK and Cindy helped the grieving widow into the limo.

  “Why isn’t she going in the ambulance with the president?” one man wondered aloud.

  “Noooooo!” wailed Camo Man, realizing what had happened to his beloved president. “Nooooo!”

  The people wept and immediately began sharing the heartbreaking news with their friends and family via calls, texts, or tweets, but many in America had already seen the news alert on television and knew the horrible truth.

  President Josiah Stoltzfus had been assassinated.

  As the presidential motorcade and emergency vehicles drove away from the scene, reporter Emily Watson stood off to the side of the Capitol steps and looked into a camera, adding her tearful commentary of the night’s events.

  “This evening, following his inspiring State of the Union address, President Josiah Stoltzfus was assassinated. Our thoughts and prayers are with the Stoltzfus family and our entire nation. Tonight the world grieves the senseless loss of a Plain man who sacrificed his peaceful life to become one of America’s great leaders. Tonight he has paid the ultimate price.

  “Police have a suspect in custody, but that doesn’t ease our nation’s pain. We are stunned and saddened at the loss of this beloved man, dedicated father and husband, and most remarkable president. Josiah Stoltzfus will never be forgotten.”

  IT WAS WELL PAST MIDNIGHT WHEN MARK STEDMAN WALKED into the Oval Office and turned on the light. It looked different to him now. The Oval Office had always held a fascination for Mark. He had often imagined himself sitting in that chair behind the presidential desk, handling the day-to-day affairs of the nation, telling Congress and the lobbyists exactly what he thought, and delivering memorable speeches to the American public. None of that seemed as overwhelming a task as it did at this very moment.

  “I figured this is where you’d be,” Cindy said as she entered the room.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Mark said, being painfully honest with himself. Reality sometimes clashed with the glamour of dreams.

  “If only we could know the future, huh?” Cindy said. “I never thought it would turn out like this.”

  Mark nodded solemnly as he looked around at the various items in the Oval Office, at items that were so typically Josiah — the latest copy of the Farmer’s Almanac, a dulcimer, the Bible that had been used for Josiah’s inauguration.

  “I used to think I was a good man,” Mark said. “Sad what we settle for in ourselves, huh?”

  “You are a good man, Mark.”

  “Not nearly good enough,” he said as he walked toward the presidential chair and ran his hand along the back of it. But Mark couldn’t bring himself to sit in that chair. He was the president of the United States. He had been sworn into office immediately following Josiah’s death. But he did not, could not, would not sit in Josiah’s chair. Not yet.

  “How do you go from believing you know everything to knowing beyond any doubt that you know absolutely nothing at all in such a short amount of time?” Mark wondered out loud.

  “Maybe that’s the true definition of a great leader — someone who’s not afraid to admit he doesn’t have all the answers.”

  “There are no easy answers. I know that now,” Mark said. “That’s the only thing I know for sure anymore.”

  FROM SOMEPLACE DEEP WITHIN HER AND WITH GOD’S GRACE, Elizabeth found the strength to tell the children about their father’s death. How difficult it was for her to explain such a violent act. It was one thing to lose a parent to disease or a car accident or some other catastrophe outside of anyone’s control, but for her children to be robbed of their father through such a senseless and brutal act seemed incomprehensible.

&nbs
p; From early childhood, Elizabeth — as with all Plain folk — had been taught to honor life. That was one of the reasons the Amish didn’t drive vehicles — because the possibility of taking another person’s life in an accident was too high. That was also one of the reasons the Amish opposed war — life was precious to them.

  Now the Stoltzfus children would have to accept the actions of someone who didn’t share their respect for the life of another. Because of this stranger’s selfish actions, there would be no more running out to greet their father as his horse and buggy made its way up their drive. There would be no more baseball games or bedtime stories from him. The children would have to accept life without their father.

  And they would all have to somehow, in some way, choose forgiveness.

  Elizabeth assured her children that God was in control and that they’d make it through this time in their lives. Then she held them close and, together, they wept.

  CHAPTER 22

  OUT OF RESPECT, THE LATE-NIGHT COMEDY SHOWS TOOK A self-imposed hiatus and ran reruns in place of new programming. The nation was grieving and there was little to laugh about.

  Retrospectives of Josiah’s life were hurried into production and aired nonstop across the airwaves. A few daytime news and talk shows dedicated their programs to looking into the twisted minds of assassins.

  Most Americans, though, just wanted to weep. Their hopes of a better tomorrow had been snatched from them, and in spite of sound bites of President Stedman’s giving sincere and encouraging words to the nation, the country felt horribly robbed.

  Hundreds of thousands of people waited under overcast skies to watch as President Josiah’s flag-draped coffin was taken in a six-horse-drawn caisson, with Samson and Delilah leading the other horses, down Constitution Avenue. The procession would end at the Capitol Building, where the coffin would lie in state on Lincoln’s catafalque in the Rotunda.

  A riderless DayBreak followed the caisson, Josiah’s wide-brimmed hat hanging from her saddle. The stirrups on the saddle were reversed, and Josiah’s boots, also reversed, were standing upright in the stirrups, symbolizing that Josiah would not ride his horse here again. The reversed boots also represented Josiah looking back on his beloved family and friends, bidding them a final farewell. DayBreak moved down the street with a slow, elegant trot out of respect for her fallen friend.