“Mom!”
“Listen. She said once you’ve done everything you can to get help for the person, once the drowner has firmly or repeatedly rejected that help, the drowner has made his choice. He’s deciding to be where he is, when he is, as he is. If you choose not to drown, at that point, you quit trying to save the person. You leave him where he wants to be and you stand back from him far enough he can’t drag you in. That may mean far away.”
“You’re talking about my brother . . .”
“I’m talking about Bert. I’m talking about me. I’m telling you what the psychologist told me. You haven’t heard the end of it. The psychologist said that sometimes when the constant rescuer walks away, the drowner decides to swim to shore. I’m suggesting you remember it. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m not giving up on Carlos.”
“You’re grown up too, dear. You can make your own choices.”
She had no sooner hung up than the phone rang. Chad, saying she was expected at the White House in forty-five minutes. She took a quick shower, dug out some clean clothing, and was downstairs waiting by the time Chad arrived to pick her up.
“You suggested his wife sit in?” she asked.
“He said she would. He made it clear he’s not inclined to have any private meetings with anyone. He’s been walking on eggs since we’ve been gone. Things were in delicate balance until this predator thing, can you believe those people?, Morse is working up to some blatant, Mccarthyesque attack, issuing little news bulletins that gain credence because of the source rather than the facts. I can honestly remember a time when people who worked for major news organizations had some pride in getting the story right. Now all they seem to care about is getting any story first, true or false. Morse is pretending to be outraged by it all, and by the way, he’s still pretending he isn’t pregnant.”
Chad might think it was pretence, but Benita thought it was more probably denial, helped along by frantic, distractive activity.
They arrived at the White House and went upstairs where the president and the First Lady were waiting, both of them looking drawn and harassed. They talked about religion for a while, then about culture, then about how the Earth could meet the challenge of the predators, then about ways to prevent the predators staying. Between spates of talk, Benita or Chad, as they had planned to do, read sections of Chiddy’s journal aloud and showed scenes from the tapes recorded on the journey. Chad had delivered the devices to the FBI, where they’d been examined in front of unimpeachable witnesses who would testify they hadn’t been tampered with. The contents had been developed and copied before still other witnesses who could testify they had not been changed in any way.
They broke for lunch, a meal that no one really ate, during which Benita mentally ordered everything that had been said into one, understandable package. When the meal was over, she said she had a suggestion. The others listened, at first with incredulity, Chad no less than the FL and president, as she briefly restated where they were and then went on to suggest what they could do about it. All three of them brought up objections. Benita countered the objections, soon joined in the effort by Chad, who had begun to see the possibilities.
“But can we get the kind of help we’d need?” he cried, at one point.
“I think we can probably manage that,” said the president. “What I’m doubtful about managing is my being gone without the whole world knowing about it.”
“Go on a religious retreat,” suggested Benita. “With your spiritual advisor.” She stopped, thinking. “Actually, it would be a good idea to have someone like that along. To lend us … respectability.”
“You mean the Reverend?” he asked. “He might really enjoy that. The first evangelist on Pistach-home! I think the press would try to observe even a spiritual retreat. And, of course, I’ve got the Secret Service hanging around, ready to testify to everything I do.”
“I think it’s manageable,” said the FL. “We’ll figure out a way to duck the Secret Service. And I agree with you, the Reverend would enjoy it very much.” She turned to Benita. “Do you think you can get the envoys to go along with this?”