by Bobby Akart
Cort could hear footsteps outside the doorway and he glanced over his shoulder before speaking. “Meredith and Hannah are coming. What am I supposed to do?”
“Trust the plan,” the dying man whispered.
“Plan? I don’t know what it is.”
Trowbridge wagged his finger for Cort to come closer. He whispered instructions as the bedroom doors were opening.
Cort’s voice rose. “What? But how?”
Trowbridge mumbled the words, “Remember what I said about destiny. Godspeed, son.”
“Honey, is everything okay?” Meredith’s question was fraught with concern. She and Hannah rushed to the other side of Trowbridge’s bed.
He gave Cort one last look and a slight smile. Then he leaned over to accept tear-filled kisses and hugs from his daughter. Hannah held it together for as long as a child could when watching a grandparent die; then she burst out in tears. She begged her grandfather to hold on. There was so much to talk about.
Trowbridge’s eyes darted from Cort to Meredith to Hannah. He squeezed Meredith’s hand with the last of his strength and then he spoke to Hannah first and then to his daughter.
“Hannah, darling child, I will miss your precious smile. My sweet daughter, I have always loved you. Do not cry for me. Just know that you’re the most precious gift God has given me. I will protect you and your family from above. It’s time for me to be with your mother.”
Then George Trowbridge closed his eyes as he left to meet his Maker.
Chapter 47
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Cort held his wife and daughter for several minutes. None of them spoke a word as they wept. Meredith sobbed as she lamented her father’s death and chastised herself for being petty during the years prior. Hannah didn’t understand the complications of adult relationships, she just focused on the fact that her grandfather appeared to be resting peacefully, never to be awake again.
Cort felt genuine sadness and remorse. His mind raced as he recalled the memories of his interactions with Trowbridge. In hindsight, and with his newfound perspective, he began to see the signs. The fatherly advice. The gentle nudge to make decisions that were in his best interest. The assistance as Cort rapidly climbed the political ladders available to only a few Washington insiders.
Cort was more than his daughter’s husband. He was, for all practical purposes, George Trowbridge Jr., kept at arm’s length distance because of the strained relationship between father and daughter.
Cort had been reluctantly thrust into a position of immense power and influence, yet he could look back during this emotional moment to realize that this was Trowbridge’s plan.
Either you control destiny, or it controls you.
Cort’s destiny, as determined by the man who’d controlled him for years. That was what his words meant on New Year’s Eve.
Trust the plan.
The plan was what was happening in this moment. The plan had been triggered on New Year’s Eve and was meant to come to fruition upon Trowbridge’s death. But would it? And how?
Trowbridge’s final, dying wish reverberated in Cort’s head.
This isn’t over—not by a long shot.
A gentle tapping on the door caused the family to pull apart from their embrace, although Cort’s mind had detached itself already. The solid wood door opened with a heavy sigh, as if it were also saying goodbye to its master.
Harris slowly entered the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Cortland, Hannah, I am so very sorry for your loss. George Trowbridge was a great man. An unsung hero who loved you all dearly.”
“Thank you, Harris,” said Cort as he approached the longtime aide to offer a hug.
The two men embraced, and as they did, Harris whispered in his ear, “Sir, they’re waiting for you.”
Cort pulled back and asked, “Who? Who’s waiting?”
Harris ignored the question and motioned towards Meredith. “Mrs. Cortland, members of the staff are awaiting you and Hannah in the guest suite. They’ll have hot tea, or a sedative, if you choose. I understand that your family is of the Southern Baptist faith. May I contact Pastor Coburn from Trinity in East Haven to come speak with you?”
Meredith, who was still emotional, became confused and stammered as she answered, “But we’d like to, um, I suppose I need to speak with Cort first.”
Harris politely pressed her. “Yes, ma’am, soon you and your family will have the time to grieve. Would you like me to contact the pastor?”
Cort and Meredith exchanged glances before she replied, “Yes, of course.”
Meredith put her arm around Hannah. She led her through the door onto the landing that overlooked the open foyer below. Cort was behind her with Harris by his side. As the family crossed the marble landing at the top of the stairs, they stopped and looked into the foyer.
Dozens of people dressed in various shades of black clothing, ostensibly in mourning for Trowbridge’s death, stared at the Cortlands as they emerged from the bedroom.
Meredith turned to Cort. “Honey?”
Harris looked past her and raised his arm, waving his fingers toward a member of the residence’s staff to escort Meredith and Hannah to the guest suite.
“It’s okay, darling. I’ll be there shortly,” replied Cort, having no idea whether that was true or not.
His eyes were fixated on the men and women who continued to file into the foyer from the parlors adjacent to the entry. He searched for a familiar face, hoping that the connection might make sense of it all.
There were none. All strangers, perhaps here to pay their respects to Trowbridge. Even Alpha and his team were nowhere in sight. He turned to Harris, but before he could speak, the loyal, faithful aide whispered to him, “It’s up to you now, sir. They’re waiting.”
Cort was suddenly nervous. He could feel his palms become sweaty, and beads of sweat began to form just below his hairline on his forehead. He glanced back toward the master suite, looking for guidance from his mentor, who was no longer able to impart any words of advice.
Waiting for what? Am I supposed to thank them for coming? Make a speech? What?
Trowbridge’s words bounced around Cort’s head.
Trust the plan.
They wanted reassurance. They wanted guidance. They were looking for him to lead.
Cort began the most important speech of his life to that point. He rubbed his hands together and subconsciously placed them into the Merkel-Raute position.
Often referred to as the Triangle of Power, it was a hand gesture known by many as one intended to emit confidence and power. Cort rested his hands in front of his stomach so that his fingertips met, with his thumbs and index fingers forming a quadrangle shape. Many conspiracy theorists had suggested the gesture was symbolic of the Illuminati, the secret society dating back to 1776.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for joining us on this sad day. George Trowbridge, my wife Meredith’s father, and a loving grandfather to our daughter, Hannah, has passed away quietly and peacefully.
“Now is a time for mourning and not for eloquent graveside eulogies. Arrangements will be made to announce his sorrowful death, and a date will be set for his burial.
“I will say this, however. George Trowbridge dedicated his adult life to the preservation of our great nation’s ideals. He believed in the Constitution and the principles of the Founding Father’s as enunciated therein.
“He and I have been very close since I came to Washington, communicating frequently on all matters concerning the best interests of our country. You know him well, as do I. I am now fully aware of his vision and my place as it relates to the plan.”
Cort paused as a murmur came over the group standing below him. All of them were keenly focused on every word he spoke. Cort took a deep breath, his confidence rising.
“There will be much to discuss between us, and I must learn a lot from you. For now, I want to allow all of you to pay your respect
s to this great man.”
Cort gestured for the group to come upstairs so they could enter the master suite and say their goodbyes to Trowbridge. He stood back against the plate-glass window, allowing the group plenty of room to walk past him. The sun began to peek through the clouds, radiating a variety of grays and white shades from the sun into Long Island Sound.
One by one, the men and women who were closest to George Trowbridge, fellow Bonesmen, approached. They’d moved heaven and earth to arrive at the estate. It was immediately apparent, however, that they were there for two reasons, the least important of which was to say goodbye to Trowbridge. They were there for Cort.
They stopped to shake his hand. Several of them bowed slightly to kiss the top of his hand. Cort was uncomfortable with the gesture at first, and then he naturally embraced it.
Few words were spoken other than offers of sympathy. Several Bonesmen uttered words of congratulations. Others simply smiled and stared into Cort’s eyes, either trying to read him or to convey a message without speaking the words.
At one point, an older gentleman broke the trend of solemn greetings for Cort. He locked eyes with Cort and whispered, “Where do we go from here?”
The unexpected question caused a small group to pause around Cort, anxious to hear his response. Cort thought for a moment, during which time he glanced to his right. Meredith and Hannah had reemerged from the bedroom and were watching the processional as the Bonesmen passed by Cort.
Cort swallowed hard and responded to the man, “We finish what we started.”
Those who heard his response began to smile, and the sound of chatter filled the cavernous space. Those who were waiting in line along the stairwell passed on his response. Those who’d already entered to pay their respects to Trowbridge heard the news. The atmosphere in the home turned electric, apparently a positive response to Cort’s intentions.
Harris appeared out of nowhere and whispered to Cort, “I’m sorry that your family exited their room. I’ve admonished the staff.”
Cort smiled and continued to shake the hands of the visitors, who now picked up the pace. He supposed they’d received what they came for.
He leaned into Harris and whispered, “Thank you. Now I need you to get the president on the phone.”
Cort looked up and smiled as a group of several women preferred to hug him rather than shake hands. “God bless you, Michael,” whispered one of them into his ear. He hadn’t been called Michael in a long time. It caught him off guard.
Michael Cortland. Am I still Cort?
Harris whispered into Cort’s ear again, “Sir, our customary means of communication is through his chief of staff. I’ll get him—”
Cort cut him off. “Not this time, Harris. What I have to say to the president will be for his ears only, understand?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
Harris scurried down the stairs and Cort’s eyes followed him. Then he glanced back to his right, searching for Meredith and Hannah.
They were gone.
PART SIX
Three months later …
Chapter 48
Haven House
The Haven
“Seems like old times,” Ryan commented as he adjusted his seat on the sofa. Invariably, when he took his seat on the couch, Chubby quickly climbed onto him as if he was her designated lap. For whatever reason, The Roo, who only weighed a couple of pounds less, but was somehow much lighter on her feet, opted for her mommy’s lap. Either way, Haven House was dedicated to the comfort of the two lap pups who’d taken up their preferred positions and settled in for a nap.
“It does,” Blair replied as she took another swig of water from her bkr, pronounced beaker, the neoprene-wrapped water bottle that had been her signature method of staying hydrated before America nearly fell apart. “I have to say, I kinda missed television. I know we complained about it all the time, but now we can see what’s happening, and I feel pretty good about the recovery efforts.”
“Yeah, me too. This is gonna be a big day.”
Bret Baier, the Fox News announcer, could be overheard in the background as they waited for the president to appear at the podium in the Rose Garden. Several hundred chairs were filled with dignitaries, politicians, and the media for the event.
“By all accounts, the president is being given credit for his statesmanship in the presence of a constitutional crisis not seen in the country since the 1860s. With a flurry of executive orders that shifted members of our military who were deployed overseas into National Guard positions, the president gave state governors the manpower they needed to gain control.
“At first, some states, like New York, Illinois, California, and Oregon, resisted the thought of our nation’s military, albeit wearing the uniform of National Guardsmen, entering their states to gain control of the societal unrest. However, as the southern states quickly and efficiently tamped down the looting and violence, and with the District of Columbia regaining a sense of normalcy, other states elected to follow the president’s plan of recovery.”
Ryan laughed. “I bet they aren’t giving the president kudos on CNN or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“Now, Ryan, the president has asked us all to put aside our differences so that we don’t find ourselves in the same mess that we were in several months ago.”
“I just think that’s easier said than done, darling. It’ll take years for Americans to forget how violence exploded in the streets. Politicians still blame each other for what happened, although nobody has come forward to claim responsibility and, fortunately, no evidence has emerged to say definitively whodunit.”
Blair allowed Ryan to complain and make his point. She was of the mindset to start over, as the president requested. She wanted to forget the political animus and hostilities that she’d seen escalate on social media. The nation was embarking on a fresh start and she wanted to embrace it.
She changed the subject as the news broadcast continued. “Did the Rankins get off okay? It was kinda sad, as they were the last of our core group to leave.”
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna miss J.C. the most. That was one smart kid. Funny, too.”
Blair nodded as The Roo squirmed in her lap, in search of a more comfortable spot before returning to the one she had. She licked her chops and closed her eyes again.
“They were hesitant to go back to Richmond, as the entire downtown area had practically been destroyed. As it turns out, their delay opened up the opportunity of her dreams. Hilton Head is a beautiful place, and I know they’re excited to get back there.”
“Well, I know Donna was thrilled, too,” added Ryan. “Hilton Head is not that far from Charleston, and although Angela isn’t an oncologist, she was a tremendous source of comfort for Donna when she feared her cancer was coming back. As she works through it, she’ll have Angela as a sounding board.”
“Donna began to look at Angela as a third daughter,” said Blair. “I’m glad the two will live near each other, considering what’s going on with Tom.”
Ryan’s cell phone rang. It startled them both and he shoved Chubby around to retrieve it from his pocket. He earned a series of disgruntled groans in the process. As he searched, he commented, “I’m still getting used to the phones working. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it.”
“Who is it?” asked Blair.
“Delta, I mean Will,” replied Ryan before answering, “Hey, Will.”
Ryan listened for a moment, periodically saying okay and sounds good before disconnecting the call. He leaned forward with a grunt and placed the phone on the table where he could reach it if need be.
“Anything going on?” asked Blair.
“Nah, he’s gonna call it a day and turn the front gate over to the night shift,” he replied.
“Is all of that still necessary?”
“Do you mean the patrols and gate security?” asked Ryan. “Yeah, for a little while, anyway. Once the grocery store shelves are full and folks get back to work, I
’ll be happy with simply guarding the entrance. Besides, we have Will in charge of the grounds and X-Ray handling drone surveillance. Why not use them?”
Blair shrugged. “I suppose. I’m glad the Hightowers decided to make the Haven their home. Their personal overhead is certainly low.”
“Yeah, as in nothing,” added Ryan.
“But wouldn’t you think there would be a lot of bad memories here following Ethan’s death?”
“He and I talked about that,” replied Ryan. “As bad as Ethan’s death made them feel, they look at the Haven as the reason their family came back together. I told him to stay as long as he wanted.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!” announced an aide to the president, who’d stepped up to the Blue Goose, the nickname given the large blue podium that the president speaks from.
The cameras panned wide, providing a view of the president, his wife, and his son as they took their positions by his side. Emerging from another angle was the president’s chief of staff and the White House legal counsel.
“Look!” exclaimed Blair. “It’s Hayden. Wow, that’s really cool.”
Ryan agreed. “You know, we didn’t have a lot of time to discuss her representation of the president in that Supreme Court case. By the time she got here, the crap had hit the fan. Then, out of nowhere, she had to leave to get back to Washington.”
“No kidding. We had so many helicopters flying in and out of here that I felt like we needed to build the Haven Heliport.”
Ryan chuckled, causing Chubby’s flubber to shake as he did. “Except now they’re all gone. I was kinda hopin’ that they’d forget about at least one of them. That would’ve been a nice addition to the fleet.”
“Shhh,” admonished Blair as she pointed to the screen. She turned up the volume. “He’s speaking.”
“As you’re undoubtedly aware, the fine justices of the United States Supreme Court have heard all of the arguments, and yesterday they issued their ruling in my favor. I commend them for not allowing politics to sway their decision and especially for recognizing that it’s time for our great nation to heal.