The Pardon

never seen a larger turnout. And no one had ever witnessed a more dramatic one-week turnaround in public opinion.

“The second time is sweeter!” Harry Swyteck proclaimed from the raised dais at his second inaugural ball.

Loud cheers filled the grand ballroom as three hundred friends and guests raised their champagne glasses with the re-elected governor. The band started up. The governor took Agnes by the hand and led her to the dance floor. It was like a silver wedding anniversary, the two of them swaying gracefully to their favorite song, the governor in his tuxedo and his bride in a flowing white taffeta gown.

Couples flooded onto the dance floor as Jack and Cindy watched from their seats at the head table. It had been a long time since they were this happy. They had their wounds, of course. Cindy had nightmares and fears of being alone. Both she and Jack constantly remembered Gina and what she’d gone through. Slowly, though, they regained some semblance of normalcy, and their love for each other became the source of their strength. Cindy returned to work at her photography studio. Jack started his own criminal-defense firm and enjoyed the luxury of picking his own clients. By Christmas, their lives had vastly improved-psychologically, emotionally, and most of all, romantically.

Jack couldn’t hide his look of wonder and admiration as he stared at Cindy across the table. She was spectacular in a deep purple gown that featured an elegant hem and sexy decolletage. Her hair was up in a swirling blonde twist; her face was a radiant portrait framed by dangling diamond earrings that Agnes had loaned her.

“Come on,” he said as he took her by the hand. “There’s something I want you to see.” They walked arm-in- arm away from the crowded ballroom to one of the quiet courtyards that had made this classic Mediterranean-style hotel so special since its opening in the 1920s.

Soft music flowed through the open French doors, making it even more romantic beneath the moon and stars on this cool, crisp January evening. They strolled arm-in-arm amidst trellised vines, a trickling fountain, and potted palms on a sweeping veranda the size of a tennis court. Jack rested their champagne glasses on the stone railing where the veranda overlooked a swimming pool forty feet below. He took Cindy in his arms.

“What’s that for?” she asked coyly, enjoying the hug.

“Forever,” he answered. Then, covertly, so she wouldn’t notice, he took a diamond ring from his pocket and dropped it into Cindy’s glass.

“Well, here you are,” said the governor with a smile as he came around the corner. “I’ve been trying to have a word alone with you two all evening.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to the handle the untimely interruption.

Cindy returned the smile. “And we’ve been waiting for a minute with you, too, Governor. To drink our own private toast to another four years.”

“A wonderful idea,” he replied, “except I’m out of champagne.”

“Well, here,” she offered, “have some of mine.”

“Wait-” Jack said.

Cindy reached for her glass but knocked it off the railing.

“Oh, my God,” Jack gasped, looking on with horror as it sailed over the edge and plunged forty feet down, exploding on the cement deck by the pool.

“Oh, I’m so clumsy,” she said, looking embarrassed.

Jack continued to stare disbelievingly at the impact area below. Without a word, he turned and sprinted down the stone stairway that led to the pool, then began furiously searching the deck. Hunched over and squinting beneath the lanterns by the pool, he scoured the area with the diligence of an octogenarian on the beach with his metal detector. But he found only splinters of glass. He got down on his knees for a closer look, but the ring was gone.

“Looking for this?” Cindy asked matter-of-factly. She was standing over him, extending her hand and displaying the sparkling ring on her finger.

Jack just rolled his eyes like a guy caught on “Candid Camera.” “You saw me drop it into the glass?” he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

She nodded.

“You had the ring all along. . it didn’t go over the edge?”

“I fished it out when you were looking at your father,” she said, smiling.

He laughed at himself as he shook his head. Then he looked up and shrugged with open arms. “Well?”

“Well,” she replied. “So long as you’re on your knees …”

Jack swallowed hard. “Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Mmmmmm,” Cindy stalled, then smiled. “You know I will.” She pulled him up by the hand and threw her arms around him.

For one very long, happy moment, they were lost in each other, oblivious to their surroundings. But a sudden round of applause reminded them that they were in public. Perched on the veranda and smiling down on them were the governor and Agnes, and perhaps ten other couples the governor had rustled together after Cindy had shown him the ring.

Jack waved to them all, then took a quick bow.

“Your father’s proud of you,” Cindy said, looking into Jack’s eyes. “And when we have a little Jack or Jackie running around our house, you can be proud, too.”

“Jackie’ sounds good,” he said with a shrug, “if it’s a girl. But if it’s a boy I’d like to call him ‘Harry,’ “ Jack said thoughtfully. “For his grandfather.”

She drew him close. “I’m happy he’ll have a grandfather,” she said.

“I am, too,” Jack said.

He’d finally earned the governor’s pardon. And the governor had earned his.