Clifford Simak: Our Children's Children

Wilson rose and moved toward the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned. "I'd say, Mr. President, that it's going very well."

"Yes," said the President. "After a bad start, it is going well. There's still a lot to do, but we are on the way."

Someone was at Judy's desk when Wilson returned. The room was dark. There were only the flashing lights on the console and they were not being answered.

"Judy?" asked Wilson hesitantly. "Judy, is that you?" Knowing that it couldn't be, for by now she was probably landing in Ohio.

"I came back," said Judy. "I got on the plane and then got off again. I sat at the airport for hours, wondering what to do. You are a son of a bitch, Steve Wilson, and you know you are. I don't know why I got off the plane. Getting off, I don't know why I came here."

He strode across the room and stood beside her.

"You never asked me to stay. You never really asked me."

"But I did. I asked you."

"You were noble about it. That's the trouble with you. Noble. You never got down on your knees and begged me. And now my baggage is headed for Ohio and I…"

He reached down and lifted her from the chair, held her close.

"It's been a rough two days," he said. "It's time for the two of us to be going home."