“I call upon all nations of the world to assist us in assuring a peaceful and productive transition. We commit to those nations that the Republic of Western America is dedicated to assuming her place in world affairs without guile and without expansionary intentions. A further press conference will begin, inside, at 10 A.M. Thank you for your attention.”
President William Snow sat in front of the large screen television in the residential quarters of the White House and watched the scene from Sacramento unfold before his eyes. The past two months, since the untimely death of President Clay Cumberland, had left him bereft of understanding as to how things had happened so fast. On one front, America was expecting terrorism on the home streets at any moment, unknown, of course, to the general public. On this latest front, if the western politicians had their way, America was about to be split down the middle, half of the country going its own way. In three hours, the National Security Council was going to convene to discuss this latest crisis, and Snow was certain several of the members would be calling for insertion of federal troops into the capital cities of those states that voted to secede, or at the very least, arrest and detention of those politicians who advocated for secession, an act of treason, as some called it.
The political pundits, airing on every channel this morning, were all certain of one thing: the president was going to have to take action to prevent this national divorce. They were unanimous on one point: they were uncertain how best to accomplish that feat of magic without military or law enforcement authority being enacted. So, in fact, were his closest professional advisors. Even that was unusual. Pollsters, Monday Morning Quarterbacks, and most political supporters were confident about what the president should do in any given situation. Their confusion over this newest threat to the continuity of America only added to his chagrin. It appeared that his college political science professor’s adage, ‘ the easiest problem to solve is someone else’s,’ was true.
He didn’t hear her approach, so the soft, warm hand on his neck surprised him. He turned to look back over his left shoulder to find his wife, Helen, leaning down to kiss him.
“Got time for a sandwich before you meet the wolves?” she asked.
“That would be great,” he said, clicking off the TV and rising to follow her to the sitting area at the other end of the room. Knowing what some of his NSC cohorts were likely to request, he had decided to cut them off at the knees and hold a pre-emptive press conference as soon as the ‘wolves’ had had sufficient time to digest the Sacramento announcement and the various states’ press statements. The presidential conference would begin in just over an hour. He sat in a leather chair and Helen handed him a roast beef sandwich with mayonnaise and pickles, wrapped in a paper napkin.
“Where would I be without you, lady?” he joked.
“Probably still practicing law in Phoenix,” she replied.
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” He took a bite of the sandwich and leaned back in the chair, resting his head on the rear cushion for several moments as he chewed and swallowed. “Where did the road divide?” he said as Helen sat across from him on the couch.
“Excuse me?” she said, tilting her head.
“At what point did we change direction? Why aren’t we still in Phoenix, and why am I not still practicing law, or better yet, playing golf?”
Helen smiled and nodded. “I can tell you the exact moment, Mr. President,” she said. “Do you remember Clarence Henshaw?”
“The city councilman from Mesa?”
“That’s him. You were doing what you referred to as ‘community involvement’ and serving on the Phoenix city council. Do you remember when Clarence announced that he was going to run for governor of Arizona? We were sitting at our breakfast table and you read his announcement in the paper. Do you recall what you did then?” Helen asked.
Bill Snow laughed, shaking his head. “I do, actually. I think I said, ‘heaven help us if such fools take charge of our lives.’”
“That’s right. At that exact moment, I knew you were going to run for governor of Arizona. The rest is history.”
“Are you kidding me? I didn’t even know myself for about three months.”
“ I knew,” she replied.
“How?” he said, a bit more serious in his query.
“Because I knew you, Bill. We were making pretty good money in those days, but that was never your goal. You used to teach the kids, ‘We each have to take a turn standing on the wall to defend America. It’s not someone else’s duty, it’s ours.”
“I said that?”
“You did. That morning, at that moment, our lives changed direction. And Councilman Clarence Henshaw lost his next election for the Mesa city council, and you ran for governor and won.”
Snow rose from his chair and came to sit beside his wife on the couch. “Any regrets, sweetheart?”
“Not for a moment, Mr. President. Most people will never know this job isn’t at all what it’s perceived to be. Sure, there’s lots of power, lots of prestige, everyone stands up when you enter a room, and, if you eventually write a book and enter the speaking circuit, there’s recovery of the money you forego in your government service. I don’t make light of that. But in fact, it’s a sacrifice, clear and simple. A personal sacrifice for those who hold the office. It certainly is a sacrifice for their families. Personal lives and privacy are sacrificed to the nation. And half the nation, or more, disagrees with everything you do. And the political opposition will impugn your every motive.”
“And if we go home after one term, having never been elected?” he asked, holding her hand and looking into her eyes.
“You won’t be the first, and besides, I’ve always wanted to learn to play golf with you. We’d have plenty of time for each other, wouldn’t we?”
President Snow looked at his wife for several long moments, then cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her lips. “I love you more than my own life, Helen. Thank you for always standing beside me.” He continued to look at her, knowing that she was always uncomfortable with praise or, in this case, adoration.
“Well,” she said, rising and brushing off her dress, her face flushed. “Finish your sandwich and go meet the press. This promises to be an adventurous day. What will you do? Have you formulated your plans?”
“Lots to consider, but I know what I won’t do. I will not go to war over the secession. I’ll do everything in my power, short of military intervention, to try to stop this break-up of our nation, but I will not use the military to oppose it. And that’s what I intend to tell the press before I meet with the Security Council. That should put a kink in their plans.”
Helen stepped toward the door and paused, looking back at her husband. “I love you too, Mr. President. Do what needs to be done, and if the nation doesn’t agree, then you can take me home to a beautiful Arizona sunset, probably in the Republic of Western America,” she added. “By then, it will be time for someone else to stand on the wall.”
Chapter 15
HMAS North Lakes
Brisbane River
Queensland, Australia
Easter Sunday, March, 2013
From the bridge of Her Majesty’s Australian Ship, HMAS North Lakes, an Armidale class patrol boat, Lieutenant Commander Kate Cartwright, Royal Australian Navy, sat in the captain’s chair, watching the wharf facility at the Brisbane Bulk Sugar operation pass by on their starboard quarter, while Midshipman Barker, a JOUT, or Junior Officer Under Training, nervously took his first attempt at pilotage under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Jones, ship’s navigator. Very little activity was apparent in the commercial sugar facility, not surprising for a Sunday morning, especially in light of the long four-day Easter weekend. Most people had, in fact, turned their attention to the celebrations planned from Brisbane to Coolangatta, in concert with the Australian University Games along the Gold Coast. Many were simply taking one last weekend away before summer ended.
