She turned and knelt beside the stone, and rubbed her fingers along his name, feeling the engraved letters.
“Hey babe,” she whispered. “I need to introduce you to someone.” Then she had to stop talking, because for a few moments all she could do was sob.
“This is our daughter. Isn’t she beautiful? I’m sorry I couldn’t bring her here before. It’s just—it’s been a really hard time without you. Even harder than I would have thought.”
She rocked back on her heels. “Rachel is sick, but I’m praying that we’ll find her a bone marrow donor soon. In the meantime, we’re watching out for her. I promised you I’d take care of our daughter, and I will. I sort of named her after you, you know. As close as I could get. You can’t name a girl Raymond, that would be weird.”
She sniffed, hard. “You wouldn’t believe what’s gone on the last few weeks. Or maybe you would. Maybe you’ve been around paying attention. I don’t know. I have a new father, and … I don’t know if I can trust him. But I think maybe I can. He took a bullet for my mother—if that isn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m going to try to get to know him, anyway. We’ll see. Mom’s … well … it’s a long story. But I think she’s going to be okay, and nothing in the world can make me happier.”
She sniffed again, then muttered a curse, then took out a tissue and blew her nose, hard.
Rachel giggled. A loud baby giggle.
“What?” Carrie said. She blew her nose again.
Rachel laughed, louder this time. Her blue eyes shone wide and her little mouth was wide open. Baby laughs were the best in the world. This was Rachel’s first.
Carrie blew her nose again, making a loud honking sound. Rachel cried out in delight, her little fists waving in the air.
“Do you see her, Ray? God, isn’t she beautiful?”
He didn’t answer, of course. She looked at his grave, and said, “I know … I know somehow you can hear me. And I hope—I hope you can forgive me. No one can ever replace you Ray. No one. But … I need to move on. I’m going to—I need you to let me go too. Because Rachel’s going to need a dad.” As she said the last few words, they came out faster and higher pitched and desperate.
She leaned close, her hands still rubbing the letters. She felt the smooth stone against her lips. “Baby, I’ll miss you forever. I’ll always, always love you. But I need to say goodbye now. I need to—I need to get on with my life, and with Rachel’s. I don’t know if anything’s there with Anthony, but it … it’s worth a try, don’t you think? I know you’d want me to be happy.”
She paused, listening. She lay there for a long time, leaning against the grave. Then she said, “I love you, Ray. I’ll be back to visit, and I’ll bring Rachel back to visit. I hope … I hope…” She sighed. “I love you, babe.”
She slowly came to her feet. She kissed her hand, then pressed it against the gravestone and walked away.
When the phone rang, Carrie Sherman was startled awake. She often fell asleep after breastfeeding Rachel, and today wasn’t much different. She was lying sideways on the couch, her feet up, Rachel lying in the sling on her chest. The baby slept peacefully.
The phone rang again. Carrie reached over and picked it up off the coffee table.
It was Doctor Gage.
In a panic, she hit the accept button and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Carrie? It’s Doctor Gage.”
“Hi … is everything okay?”
“Carrie, I’ve got news.”
Carrie waited, her heart suddenly beating a thousand times a second.
“Your father is a match, Carrie. We’ve got a donor.”
The tears began running down Carrie’s face before she could say a word. Her eyes dropped to the baby peacefully sleeping across her chest, tiny fists bunched.
“Carrie, are you there?”
Joyful tears in her voice, Carrie said, “Yes. Yes. Thank you so much.”
Rachel, the tiny baby who had no idea what had gone into this moment, slept peacefully. Just as she should. Carrie closed her eyes and sent a prayer up to heaven in thanks for protecting her daughter.
Sarah sighed and leaned back in her chair. Carrie was out of the house, thank God, as was her mom. Right now it was just Jessica and Sarah, sitting on the balcony, a desk of cards between them. The breeze was nice, at a few degrees above seventy, making it the nicest day they’d experienced in a while.
Carrie had been restless that morning, fretting about Rachel’s upcoming bone marrow transplant.
Prince George-Phillip was currently in London, but he would be flying to Washington next week for the painful bone marrow donation surgery. Sarah liked George-Phillip. She’d met him three times now, once at the Embassy, once at Blair House when the President had him stay as a guest there, and once for dinner at the condo. He was a funny man, and his ridiculous eyebrows made him even funnier. But his concern for his granddaughter was what won Sarah over.
Sarah stared out over the city and her eyes misted over.
“Do you remember how hot it was? Last year?”
Jessica nodded. It was August 17
th
the prior year, when they were in a car on the way to the zoo, that a jeep bearing death had come barreling through the intersection and cut Ray Sherman’s life short and severely wounded Sarah. Indirectly, the accident had resulted in grave damage to Jessica as well.
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “It was awful.”
Jessica looked at Sarah and whispered, “I was awful to you. The year before the accident.”
Sarah’s mouth twitch to the right. She didn’t say anything, except to slightly shake her head.
“No, really. I shouldn’t have asked to change classes. We’ve been together all our lives. I should have talked to you.”
Sarah closed her eyes, a cloud of emotion flooding through her. She whispered, “Why did you do it? I thought you hated me.”
Jessica shook her head. “It was … I was always in your shadow, you know? I was Plain Jane. And you—you had everybody’s attention—from the time we were tiny kids. I was … jealous. I wanted to strike out on my own. I’m sorry.”
Sarah swallowed. “Jessica … I love you … and… you have to know … I always felt that way about you. You were always Mom and Dad’s favorite I thought. You were going to be the only one to follow Dad into the Foreign Service.”
“I think I’ll skip that now,” Jessica said.
“True,” Sarah said. She felt bleak.
“What are you going to do about school?”
Sarah shrugged. “I didn’t finish. I was thinking about registering at BCC this year. They’ll still let me go back and finish my senior year. I checked.”
Jessica swallowed. Her eyes looked huge. Sarah thought Jessica was about to cry. She said, “Do you think … I could come with you? Back to school? That we could finish together? We’d be class of 2015, I guess.”
Sarah whispered, “I’d love that.”
Ambassador Richard Thompson Convicted of Murder Under the 1996 War Crimes Act
By Bill Leiby
Former Defense Secretary nominee and Ambassador Richard Thompson was convicted Friday of 223 counts of murder under the provisions of the 1996 War Crimes Act. Thompson was sentenced to 223 consecutive life sentences. Thompson was acquitted of multiple charges of assault and rape.
The murder charges and life sentences were the result of a grand jury investigation last year which concluded that Thompson and Leslie Collins were primarily responsible for the acquisition of chemical weapons which were used in a village in remote Badakhshan province in the winter of 1982, resulting in the death of more than 200 civilians. Until last year, it was believed that the Soviets were responsible for the massacre.
The accusations of rape, along with the murder charges, were revealed in detail in the Pulitzer Prize winning series by Post reporter Anthony Walker last May. Collins was murdered the same day. His murder remains unsolved.
The rape charges were brought by Thompson’s former wife, Adelina Ramos, who recently relocated to London with her youngest daughter, Andrea, who will be attending the exclusive Chelsea Independent College in preparation for University studies.
Family spokesperson Julia Wilson said in an official statement, “Our father is a complicated and disturbed man. The family will not be commenting on his conviction or imprisonment, except to extend our heartfelt and abject remorse and apologies to the victims of his actions.”
“Mom!” Andrea called out as loud as she could when she entered the townhouse. Adelina had bought a stupidly expensive townhome in Chelsea—big enough that all of her daughters could visit when they wanted to. At one time or another they all had.
Now the size worked against her. Andrea shouted again. “Mom! Mom!”
She heard steps upstairs. Running. Adelina appeared at the top of the stairs, concern on her face. “Andrea, what is it?”
“I got accepted!”
Adelina screamed. “Oh my God!”
Andrea met her halfway up the stairs and threw her arms around her mother.
For the last nine months Andrea had been completing a final year of senior school to make up the deficiencies in her education. She didn’t realize she
had
any deficiencies until she’d applied for college at King’s College in London. The college had provisionally accepted her, but required her to take a year of preparatory school.
Now she was in.
Adelina followed her downstairs to the dining room and looked over the acceptance letter. She looked up at Andrea. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I have to call Jessica and Sarah. And Julia. And … everyone. They’ll scream!”
Jessica and Sarah had both decided to stay in Washington, DC after they graduated high school, both attending Georgetown University and living with Carrie and Rachel. Andrea didn’t think that would last too much longer. Carrie seemed to be ready for them to move into their own place.
Of course, she’d see them all soon enough, when they arrived in London next week.
She took her mother’s hand.
Adelina said, “You know … three years ago, I never could have imagined … this. All of it. Us being together like this. I’m so happy.”
Andrea smiled. “I am too, Mom. You have no idea. Okay. I’ve got to call.”
She picked up the phone, trying to decide which sister to talk to first.
When Adelina Ramos stepped out of the taxicab she took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes and counted to twenty. Then, for good measure, she counted a little more before opening her eyes. It had been more than twenty years since she’d stood on this sidewalk, next to this building, and the last time she’d had a panic attack that resulted in a months’ long hospitalization.
There would be no panic attack this time. She clutched her bag under her shoulder and walked through the crowd that spilled out of the bar at the base of the apartment building.
She knew the way.
Up three flights of stairs, then down a long hall. It was brighter in here than she remembered, and cleaner. But then, the few months she’d lived here with her mother, she’d been in a deep depression. Grief at the loss of her father and of her innocence.
Finally she reached the door. Number 32. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, then knocked on the door.
Inside, she heard shouts. Luis, she supposed. “Mamá. Someone’s here!”
Seconds later, the door opened.
It was Luis. Older,
much
older than the last time she’d seen him. His face blanched, and he choked out a half strangled word she couldn’t quite make out.
“Hola, Luis,” she said.
He took her hand. “I … I didn’t think you would come. Ever.”
“Luis!” The shout came from the living room. “Who is it?”
Luis swallowed. “Come in,” he said.
Adelina walked forward. She could feel her chest tightening; the beginnings of what could become a panic attack. She hadn’t had one in a long time. But she’d never be wholly healed.
But she hadn’t come here to be healed. She’d come here to see her mother. She followed Luis into the living room.
The apartment was different. Brighter, yet somehow smaller. The breeze blew the light cotton fabric of the drapes, and a television blared laughter in the corner. An old woman leaned on a recliner watching the television.
Adelina stared at her mother.
The years had not been kind to her. Her mother was at least seventy now. Her eyes seemed hollow, and deep trenches furrowed her skin. A cigarette burned in an ashtray next to her, the smoke lazily floating toward the window.
Then she turned her face toward Adelina. Her face seemed slack, her eyes unfocused, as if she were blind and couldn’t quite make out what she was seeing.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The words were knives in her stomach, and Adelina actually took a step back, gasping.
Luis moved to their mother’s side and kneeled. He whispered, “Mother, it’s your daughter. It’s Adelina.”
Her mother’s eyes widened and she seemed to search the room. “Adelina?” Tears began to run down the old woman’s face.
“Hello, Mother,” Adelina said. She sighed, letting out a long breath, as her little brother, now in his forties, looked at her with worry in his eyes. Adelina had come to Calella daydreaming of confronting her mother. She’d imagined the scene, imagined telling her mother exactly how she felt about all those years of hurt.
She’d imagined herself saying,
You destroyed my life. You broke my heart.
But now, tears were streaming down her mother’s face. She was shaking, looking up at Adelina with fear in her eyes. She expected it. She expected the explosion, the accusations, the tirade. It was clear enough that so did Luis.
Adelina couldn’t do it. Her daughters had once thought the same things of her.
Instead, Adelina slowly dropped to her knees beside her mother, and whispered, “Te extrañé, Mamá.”
I missed you, Mommy.
“This is insane,” Alexandra said. “I thought
my
wedding was too complicated.”
Julia laughed a little under her breath, then said, “Royal weddings are something else entirely, aren’t they? I’m glad I didn’t have to organize this one.”