The Presence (32 page)

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Authors: T. Davis Bunn

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BOOK: The Presence
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“Afterwards I worked it out. Ella knew right along she was ill. But she figured I already had enough on my plate, so she just kept quiet about it.”

TJ nodded, imagined how he would feel if he missed out on Catherine's last healthy days because of business pressures. All he said was, “That sounds just like her, Jem.”

Jeremy was quiet for a long time, so long that TJ thought maybe his friend was going to let it drop. His voice was very rough when he continued, “I guess the clock was Ella's way of tellin' me that her time had come. She wouldn't do it for herself. She never said why and I never asked. Wasn't any need.”

TJ understood, said, “She didn't want you punishing yourself afterwards.”

“Crazy clock had a face with twenty-six hours. Ella said she knew how busy I was, but she'd missed me somethin' awful. So for my birthday that year she was gonna give me two more hours in my day. Only thing she asked was that one hour be spent with her, and the other one with the Lord.”

“She was a fine woman, Jem,” TJ said quietly, aching for his friend. “One of the finest.”

“Been thinkin' a lot about her ever since I got up here,” Jeremy said, stopping in front of the Old Executive Office Building. “Dreamed about her last night for maybe the fourth or fifth time in the past coupla weeks. Like to think it's because I'm movin' closer to the Lord through doin' His work.”

TJ decided he would match his friend's honesty with a little of his own, asked, “Jem, do you think I've made a mistake, asking Catherine to come up to Washington?”

Jeremy kept his eyes forward, nodded as though expecting the question. “Ain't nowhere else that lady wants to be, TJ. Just give her a little time to get adjusted. I'll be takin' her down to the Community this mornin', maybe that'll help.” He turned and gave his friend a warm smile. “Now how's about a prayer ‘fore you go out to meet Goliath.”

****

Congressman John Silverwood was a very nervous man. He had not felt like this since his first campaign speech, more than fifteen years ago. But this time, he could not for the life of him figure out why he was so afraid.

He stepped through the elevator doors and faced a circular receptionist's desk, located in the middle of a circular room. Doors were placed evenly along the walls, with vibrantly colored modern paintings decorating the spaces between them. The carpet was thick and cream-colored, the walls were papered with what looked to be water-stained silk, and the round reception desk was in polished rosewood. Brass letters attached to the front of the reception desk announced that these were the offices of Shermann, Blinders and Bledd.

Lighting was recessed, lobby furniture was leather and light wood, and the receptionist was as spectacular as the room. “May I help you, sir?”

“I'm here to see Mr. Shermann.”

“Of course, sir. Would you happen to be Congressman Silverwood?”

He nodded, very embarrassed that she would know who he was. It made him wonder how public the knowledge of their deal was.

“Mr. Shermann left firm instructions to have you shown right in.” She stood, gave him a hundred-watt smile, said, “Would you follow me please, Congressman?”

The man's office was simply enormous, a blatant reminder of the perks available to people working in the private sector. The desk was large enough to house a family of six. The coffee table, obviously an antique, appeared to be carved from one solid piece of burl. The beige-leather furniture looked as soft as a baby's bottom. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by silk drapes stretched across the entire back wall, and overlooked an inner courtyard and tiny Japanese garden.

“Mr. Shermann, Congressman Silverwood is here to see you.”

“And just exactly on time.” Mr. Shermann did his gentle little push from the seat. “I have the greatest respect for busy men who follow closely to their time schedule. It shows they have concern for the time constraints of others.”

Mr. Shermann extended a nearly translucent hand. “So nice of you to drop by for a visit, Congressman.”

“My pleasure,” Silverwood replied, hiding his distaste as he shook the dry, delicate hand. “Nice place you have here.”

“I am so glad you like it. Please, won't you have a seat? How about some coffee?”

“No thanks. I really have to be moving on very shortly.”

“I do understand.” Mr. Shermann sat down, waited for the door to close, said, “Then perhaps you will permit me to get right down to business.”

“By all means.”

“I cannot tell you how honored I am that you would agree to accept my offer.”

“Just a minute,” Silverwood said. It suddenly occurred to him that the man might be recording the conversation. He felt a moment of real panic. What am I doing here?

“Yes, Congressman?” Mr. Shermann showed no reaction from behind his two-tone shades. He seemed prepared to wait in utter calm all day if necessary.

“There is no deal, there is no offer, and I haven't accepted anything.”

“Ah.” Mr. Shermann nodded his head once, an almost imperceptible movement. “I quite understand. Of course there isn't.”

“I am simply paying a courtesy visit to one of Washington's most important lobbyists.” He felt a trickle of sweat slide down his spine.

“Of course you are, Congressman. And I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this honor.”

Silverwood's mind raced forward, could find absolutely nothing more to say that would not incriminate him if brought to light. So he stood. “Well, it certainly has been a pleasure, Mr. Shermann. Sorry the visit has to be so short.”

“Not at all, Congressman, not at all.” Shermann lifted from his seat as though drawn on invisible pulleys. “The most important thing is that you stopped by.”

Silverwood nodded. “Just as I said I would.”

“Indeed, Congressman. It is certainly clear that I am dealing with a man of his word.”

“I hope you won't take offense, but I really am very busy. I don't see how it's going to be possible for us to visit again in the foreseeable future.”

“There is no one in the city who has a greater respect for your time than I, Congressman.” Mr. Shermann walked him to the door on stick-like legs. “And of course I would never presume to impose myself upon you.”

Silverwood stopped in the doorway, said firmly, “Goodbye, Mr. Shermann.”

Mr. Shermann gave a slight bow of accord. “Thank you again for coming, Congressman.”

By the time Silverwood had arrived at street level, his nerves were back in order. All in all, he decided, it could have been a lot worse. He had agreed to nothing, he had said nothing. Had he been in other surroundings, he might not have thought about recordings until it was too late.

He smiled ruefully, and was amused to see an attractive young lady who was walking past him smile back. Yes, actually it had all worked out rather well. For an amateur, especially well. Silverwood gave a slight shiver at the thought of how close he had come. The man could have had him with a noose around his neck if Silverwood had thought of it five seconds later. He wondered if Shermann had noticed it, decided not. There was nothing in the conversation to suggest that Silverwood had not been in control from the very first moment. Any recording would indicate a totally innocuous discussion. Nothing incriminating. His mood lightened considerably, and he felt himself springing down the sidewalk. Yes, this really might all turn out for the best. And from the sounds of it, once he had eased up on his questioning of Atlas, he'd be rid of that Shermann for good.

****

When TJ arrived home that night, he wondered if maybe he had somehow walked into the wrong house.

There must have been two-dozen children in his living room, and more in the den. He stood for a moment, watched the screaming, laughing, racing little bodies.

TJ saw a young black woman with a shining, intelligent face seated at the edge of a circle of children. He vaguely recalled her from church, recalled she was named Anna and was the minister's niece. Then it clicked; she was the one who had helped Jeremy get started with his work at the mission. The children gathered around her were laughing and playing a hand game.

She waved, smiled, said, “Hope you don't mind. We decided it was a good day to play invasion.”

Catherine joined him, her eyes sparkling. She gave him a welcome-home kiss, said, “Their heat just up and died. Jeremy said it'd be late tonight before they could fix it.”

“Sure will give your neighbors something to talk about,” Anna said. “I believe there're some Arabs over next door. You could pretend I'm your fifth wife and all these kids are yours.”

A little girl came running up, grasped the hem of Catherine's dress, hid most of her face, and peeked shyly up at TJ. Catherine bent over and scooped the child up. “This is Mary Lee,” she said conversationally. “According to Anna, this girl's had at last count four live-in daddies. Isn't she a little angel?”

“I just got a new tooth,” the girl pronounced solemnly.

“Show him, sweetheart,” Catherine said, then, “Now, have you ever in your life seen a prettier tooth?”

“It'd win prizes,” TJ agreed. He looked at his wife, saw a woman who was truly happy. Tired, but happy. He told her, “It certainly is nice to see you smiling again.”

“Why don't you go on upstairs and relax,” she said. “We'll be bundling these little ones off shortly and it'll be safe to come back down.”

“We're just trying to instill in these kids a sense of their own self-worth,” she said from the bathroom as they were getting ready for bed that night. “Most of them don't have a daddy, never had a man who stayed around for more than a few months at a time. Don't have any real sense of home. Kids and teachers at school tell them and show them that they're not expected to perform, so they don't.”

“I'm glad you had a nice day,” he said.

She came out of the bathroom, switched off the light, said, “I hope you didn't mind the noise.”

He put down the book he was pretending to read, said, “Well, it was a hard day, and it would have been nice to have come home to some peace and quiet. But it was nicer to see that smile on your face this evening. I don't remember when I've seen you so happy.”

“It sure is nice to be needed,” she agreed.

“And I really like that look you're giving me right now,” he added.

She came over, turned back the covers on her side of the bed, slid in between the sheets and moved over to lay her head on his chest. “These old bones are tired tonight,” she sighed.

He stroked her cheek, said, “Who you talking ‘bout old to, woman? You're nothing but a spry young thing.”

She chuckled tiredly, said, “You lie, you lie like a dog.”

“Not me.”

She gave him a gentle hug and snuggled closer. “I guess it's just one of those lessons you've got to relearn every day. Is for me anyway, ‘cause I sure can't seem to remember it.”

“What's that, honey?”

“There's no joy like the joy you get from giving in the Lord's name, is there?”

“None that I've found.”

“I guess that's why we're here, though, isn't it?”

TJ reached over to set his book on the bedside table, muttered, “I'm not so sure exactly why I'm here right now, if you want to know the truth.”

She raised up and gave him a sharp look, said, “You know. That ain't nothing but tired talking. You know.”

He settled back, said, “Yes, I guess I do. It's just hard to remember sometimes. You want to remind me again?”

“You're here to serve your Lord,” she said, still looking him in the eye. “What better reason could there be? You're here to serve your Maker. He'll take you where He wants you to go, and tell you what He decides you need to know. And that's it. Everything else is second-rate and not worth worrying over.”

He kissed her, said, “I sure am glad you're here, honey.”

“Now, where on earth do you suppose I'd be besides here?”

He turned off the lamp, searched for her hand, said, “Oh, back in your own home near your own family, instead of up here in a strange bed in a strange house in a city that's just about as strange as a city can get.”

“Now you're just talking foolishness,” she said huffily. “Maybe I oughtta shake you up real good, knock some sense into that stubborn old head. There's no place I'm supposed to be but right here, and don't you forget it.”

“I need you,” he said softly, his eyes staring into the darkness, his arms holding her close.

“Difficult as it is,” she went on, “this is about the nicest thing that could've happened to me, you know that? There I was, surrounded by a house full of silence and memories of kids that've grown up and left their momma alone. And what happens but my man gets this vision and runs off to Washington.” She gave a deep-throated chuckle, drawled, “Yessir, Washington, D.C. Our nation's capital. The Lord's done told my man to work in the White House. Sometimes I can hardly believe it's all real.”

“Oh, it's real all right,” TJ said, the worries returning.

She rolled over and kissed him softly. “Now don't you worry none, you're just exactly where you're supposed to be, doing just exactly what He wants. I know you need me, honey, and you know what? It's a gift, knowing I'm needed. Just like those kids need me. Just like those folks need you up there in that prayer service every morning. We all need each other. And that need is what binds us together, just like it's our need that binds us to our Lord. All we got to do is learn how to give to that need in love, in His name.”

Chapter Fifteen

TJ fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, guardedly watched Catherine from across the room. She remained silent and reserved, as she had been all that morning. He did not need to ask why. TJ and Jeremy liked the church, but it was even more important that Catherine feel at home there.

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