M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

Almost choking, eyebrows raised he echoed, “Fishing? Motorcycles? That really isn’t what I had in mind as interests although there is something to be said for both, it depends…”

She continued, ignoring his protests, “But I like to hike and yes, I have a number of interests in the music field. I do love music and I enjoy the symphony, the opera and the ballet. I like jazz and Gershwin; I just like music, all kinds, from the Beatles to Bach,” she said firmly.

“What about politics? How do you feel about politics and politicians?” Andrew probed.

Putting her finger to her cheek and frowning she said somberly, “I think I agree with H. L. Mencken who once said that ‘any man who calls himself a politician is, thereby, a self-confessed liar, rogue, thief and scoundrel.”

“Ouch! Do you really think that? Did he really say that?”

“So I’ve read,” she said in mock seriousness.

“Seems like you do a lot of interesting reading; maybe we should end this ‘interview’ now.”

“Yes, that’s a very good idea. Oh, did I mention that I also like to read? And, you know, Andrew, Mencken could be wrong.” She laughed as she rose to clear the dishes.

The fire was nearly out by the time they returned to the living room. Andy put another small log on the coals and a flame soon sprang to life and was flickering brightly. They watched quietly seated side by side on the sofa. At last Charlene roused and said, “Tomorrow Brad will be here, I wonder what it will be like seeing him again after all this time. I wonder what he’ll think of the letter,” she mused.

“Yeah, I wonder, too,” he added to her thoughts.

“I almost dread it. I don’t know why exactly; perhaps it’s because of all that has happened with George Kelshaw, the letter and the break-in at the Center, that detective,” alluding to Maxwell, “And everything.” The words were tumbling out, “Is it worth it, Andrew? I can’t tell anymore. Ultimately it won’t change anything.”

“Charlie, you need the answer about Paul. If Coleman can shed some light it will be worth it. Being apprehensive is natural. You know that I want to help in any way that I can; I want that more than anything right now. This whole thing with Kelshaw isn’t over yet, for any of us. Remember what Evan Scott told us and I’m going to be here, trust me.”

They were standing now facing each other, ready to say goodnight when she stepped toward him. His arms went around her and he whispered, “Charlene, let me stay, I don’t want to leave you,” he said shakily.

She nodded pressing her head into his shoulder, “I want you to stay.”

Her bedroom was not the shrine for Paul Thayer that Andrew had imagined it would be. There was a small picture of him with Charlene on her dresser. He was in uniform and she was smiling, obviously at a happier time. Charlie read his thoughts as she watched him study the photo. “That was taken at Carlisle Barracks shortly after we were married.”

“You looked happy.”

“I was, we were.”

“He was a good looking guy.”

“Yes, he was; Andrew, if this is awkward for you I..I,” she stammered, turning away.

“Hey, hey,” half whispering solicitously, he gently took her arm and turned her toward him. “Not awkward; it could never be awkward with you. I‘ll leave right now if you want me to, but I hope you don’t.”

“No, oh no.” Her arms were around him. He kissed her again and again, murmuring her name, catching the fragrance of her hair against his cheek.

In bed he found tenderness within himself toward her that he wouldn’t have believed possible. Her passion surprised him and pleased him and when sleep came she rested quietly against him.

Andrew knew he was no longer falling in love with this woman he was already there, how it would play out only God knew, but for now he had found a space of absolute contentment.

Wednesday, September 24, 1980

It was shortly before 10:00 AM when the non-stop commercial jet landed at SeaTac International and first class passenger Bradley Coleman deplaned. He quickly made his way to the rental car reserved for him and was soon on the way to Seattle.

His reservations had been made at the Olympic Hotel. Brad was given a VIP suite and after briefly freshening up, he telephoned Charlene. They would have lunch at the hotel at 11:30.

Brad placed a call to the law firm of Ramsey and Carr next. “Lyle, I would like to meet with you tomorrow morning, early, say 8:00, I believe we have a great deal to discuss.”

“Of course, General Coleman, 8:00 will be fine. I’ll make certain we have as much time as you need.”

“That’s fine, I’ll be there.” Brad hung up abruptly.

Brad was waiting as Charlene entered the lobby of the gracious old Olympic Hotel. Its quiet elegance was on the verge of a major facelift scheduled for the following year. Still, it radiated the same warm burnished class seen in a hand-rubbed object, made richer by use. Among its past clients it boasted ex-Presidents, Senators and business moguls.

He watched her for a moment or two before greeting her. She looked much the same as the last time he had seen her. Today, however, she was not worn in grief as she had been when he and Olivia had stood beside her as Paul’s coffin was lowered into the grave.

“Charlene,” he exclaimed. “It is so good to see you. You look absolutely wonderful!”

“You look wonderful, too, General, ” she said in admiration. “Brad, I think all this work and rank has agreed with you.” she said smiling. “I am very glad to see you; did you have a good flight?”

“Yes, let’s have lunch and then we’ll try to get to the bottom of this sad business,” he announced confidently taking her arm and guiding her toward the dining room.

Charlene looked at Brad. Other than a few more lines around his eyes he really hadn’t changed very much. Brad was a survivor. It was funny that she would think in terms of ‘survivors’; Paul used to joke about being a survivor. He always said that he had Thayer luck. One of his ancestors had survived the sinking of the Titanic so the myth was born. Like so many myths it ended when Paul died.

Over lunch they enjoyed exchanging information on what had been happening in their lives. He told her that their daughter, Maureen was in Virginia Beach, doing an internship with the State of Virginia’s Department of Natural Resources.

“How interesting. You and Olivia must be terribly proud of her as I’m sure she is of you. The air is quite rarified around you these days, Brad. You have come a long way since…” her voice dropped.

“Yes, Olivia and I are very pleased with Maureen and the course she has chosen. Now I’d like to see her marry well and settle down. But I’m afraid she seems to be attracted to the honest, but poor dedicated young men whose ideals outweigh their bank accounts. I have agreed to let her finish this internship as long as there are no romantic entanglements, so she’s keeping her nose to the grindstone. Olivia is in Virginia Beach visiting her now.

“As for me, yes, Charlene, good fortune has certainly smiled on this not so ‘old soldier’. Fortunately, I did make right choices along the way,” he continued, verbally preening himself. “I enjoy what I do very much. It’s important work. It’s too bad that we lost Paul when we did. He would have gone far as well, I’m sure. I don’t suppose you have the letter you believe to be from him, with you, do you?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I thought it would be better to let you read it in privacy at my house, I hope you don’t mind,” she stated. She was thinking how pompous Brad had become! Paul would never have been filled with so much self importance if he had lived a hundred more years.