Capitol Conspiracy

59

Ben and Christina strolled through the cemetery after leaving the funeral for the Secret Service agent killed in Baltimore. More civilian graves in Arlington, more death arising from this national crisis. A crisis that was finally over. He just hoped that he-and everyone else in this town-had learned something from it. But how could you know? How could you ever be sure?

On their way out, they stopped at the Eternal Flame. As many times as he had been here, it still gave him a catch in his throat. He remembered little John-John-he, too, now gone-saluting his father’s casket. Kennedy had so much promise, promise tragically cut short before it was realized. So many men had come to this town to change the world. And all too often their dreams did not become reality. The world was not changed. Or the changes were not for the better.

Ben was still staring at the flame as Christina curled up beside him and snuggled against his arm. “You know how you can tell the Union graves from the Confederate graves?”

Ben blinked, breaking out of his reverie. “No idea.”

“The Confederate grave markers are pointed at the top.”

“Why?”

“So those damned Yankees won’t sit on them.”

Ben smiled, then squinted. A tall, shimmering figure in black was making its way up the path he had just traveled. “Am I wrong, or is that Nancy Caldwell approaching in the distance?”

“She wants an answer, Ben. You’ve stalled her too long. She needs to know who the Democratic candidate for Oklahoma’s senatorial seat is going to be.”

“Political office,” Ben mused. “Power. The chance to change the nation. Maybe the world. That’s what brought this crisis down upon us, ultimately. And so much death.”

“Very philosophical. But I think she just wants to know if you’re going to run.”

Ben turned to face her. “I am going to run…” He smiled again, then hugged Christina tightly. “Away.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to run away with a beautiful woman.”

Christina arched an eyebrow. “Anyone I know?”

“Definitely.” He reached inside his jacket. “Two tickets to Paris. Two weeks of a too-long-delayed honeymoon. What do you think?”

“I think you can’t afford it.”

“But we’re going anyway.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“You’re really finally taking me to France?”

Still nodding.

“I can’t be positive,” Christina said, “but I’m pretty sure this is one of the first signs of the Apocalypse.”

“If you’re going to be that way about it, the tickets are refundable.”

“Don’t you dare.” She snuggled closer. “My hero.” A moment later, she added, “But you’re going to have to give Caldwell an answer. Soon.”

“All the more reason we should take a long, restful vacation.”

“Why is that?”

He looked deeply into her eyes. “Because when we get back, darling-we’re running for reelection.”