herd.
In time, Guajardo knew, they would prevail. They always had. The Americans had come before and, when they had tired of Mexico, they had left. This time would be no different. It never was. And when they left, Mexico and her people would still be there. They always were.
18
Hurrah, boys, we've got them!
Reaching over with her right arm, Amanda Lewis spent several minutes of fruitless searching before she realized that the only thing her hand could find on Ed's side of the bed was crumpled sheets and a vacant pillow. With her mind clouded with sleep, she was not quite up to the challenge of solving the mystery of the missing husband. Satisfied that she had done all she could, she rolled over and began slowly drifting back to sleep, until the muffled voice from downstairs began to bring her back.
Opening her eyes, as if that would help her hear better, Amanda listened for a moment. From the direction and the tone, she could tell that Ed was still on the phone., yelling at someone. Squinting in order to read the digital numbers on the clock, Amanda debated whether she should stay in bed and let Ed vent his spleen or go down and lend him some moral support. After listening for another minute and noticing no change in Ed's pitch or tone, she opted to go down. At least, she thought, she could try to calm him, though she doubted it. Once Ed Lewis started chasing windmills, only a punch in the nose or a bout of high blood pressure could stop him. Though she couldn't fend off the former, at least she could try to do something about the blood pressure.
Throwing on a robe, Amanda quietly went down the stairs to the kitchen to brew a pot of decaffeinated coffee. She didn't even pause as she passed the door of Ed's home office. Even through the closed door, Ed's words could be heard clearly down the hall and in the kitchen.
Tuning out his outburst, punctuated with an occasional pause while the other party talked, Amanda busied herself preparing a tray for their coffee.
When all was ready, she took the tray and headed for Ed's office, reaching the door just as Ed slammed the receiver down. Leaning over to listen at the door, Amanda didn't hear a sound. Deciding that he was finished with whoever he had been talking to, she balanced the coffee tray in one hand while opening the door with the other.
Walking in as if nothing were out of the ordinary, Amanda began searching for any flat surface free of stacks of books, folders, papers, and magazines. She moved to a small table that appeared to offer a reasonably level spot on top of a small stack of books. Even on her way to the table she had to be wary, taking care to step over a briefcase, assorted books, and one of Ed's shoes. As she crossed the room, she watched her husband from the corner of her eye.
Seated at his desk, his chair turned sideways to face the corner of the desk where the phone was, Lewis had yet to acknowledge her presence.
Instead, he merely sat there, reclining in his chair, hands folded on his stomach, staring at the phone. Even when Amanda finished preparing his mug of coffee, leaning over his desk to hand it to him, Lewis didn't look at her. Mechanically, he reached out, took the mug in one hand, and slowly brought it to his lips, holding it there for a moment with both hands, all the while watching the phone.
It wasn't that Ed was ungrateful or rude. When it came to a loving husband and an understanding father, there wasn't any better and Amanda knew it. After twenty-two years of marriage, the only regret that she had was that she had given in to his desire to run for Congress. Even his tour of combat duty in the Persian Gulf as a battalion executive officer had not been as hard on her as his five years in Congress. In those years, she had watched the man she loved begin to turn solemn and cynical. Though he denied there were any differences in him, Amanda knew better. These changes, along with a growing threat of hypertension accentuated by a poor diet due to long hours of work, threatened to destroy the only man that Amanda had ever loved, the man to whom she had devoted her entire life. Quietly taking her mug of coffee, Amanda moved over to a chair across the room from him, bending down to remove several file folders from the seat cushion. Sitting down, Amanda Lewis began to sip her coffee as she watched Congressman Ed Lewis and waited patiently for him to finish his thoughts.
When the phone rang, Amanda jumped. Lewis leaped forward, grabbing for the phone with his right hand. Without looking, he swung his left arm, holding the coffee mug, toward the desk, and set the mug precariously on top of a jumbled stack of papers. Amanda was about to say something when Lewis responded to the party on the other end of the line.
'Yes, I'll hold.'
Settling back in her seat, Amanda watched Lewis, while casting an occasional glance at the coffee mug that threatened to topple over from its awkward perch. Only when he began speaking did Amanda understand his lack of concern.
'Yes, Mr. President, this is Ed. I am sorry for waking you at this hour, but I wanted to ask you one more time to reconsider your decision.'
Amanda's eyes narrowed. Bullshit, she thought. Ed wasn't sorry for waking the president. Nor was she sorry that he had.
'Yes, sir. I understand your position. And I understand the need to do something about the raids across the border. Hell, Mr. President, I'd rather be down there, on the front line, than stay here in Washington any day of the week.'
With her eyes narrowing even more, Amanda felt like shouting 'Good, let's go, tonight, and get the hell out of this rat race,' but restrained herself.
Lewis continued. 'No sir, I have not changed my view. It is, and will remain, a mistake to take direct military action against the Mexican government. I am convinced that they are as anxious to stop those raids as we are.'
As she lowered her mug to her lap, Amanda shook her head. You'll never give up, she thought. You'll never give up chasing those windmills, you old fool.
'No sir, I do not believe what the CIA, the DIA, the NSA, or the FBI are saying. They're full of shit and you know it.'
Looking over to the clock behind Lewis's desk, Amanda knew the conversation would be ending soon. Presidents, after all, don't have to listen to congressmen curse like that at one o'clock in the morning. She was sure the president got enough of that during the day.
'In the first place, they have a piss-poor record, starting from when Fidel took Havana all the way up until now and every point in between.
Second, and most importantly, the Mexicans will fight. Both you and I know we will never be able to bring the Council of 13 down. Hell, even with the whole world behind us and his armed forces shattered, we couldn't get rid of Saddam. What makes you think this is going to go any better?'
Odds, Amanda thought. After all, any Vegas gambler knew that if you threw the dice enough, you would eventually come up with a winning number. After Korea, Cuba, Vietnam, and Iraq, some president had to get lucky. Suddenly, she realized that she was beginning to sound as cynical as Ed. With a shake of her head, she stood up and moved over to the tray to pour herself another cup of coffee.
'You, Mr. President, may be committed. But I am not obliged to follow. This is a dumb move, a move that neither you nor I, in the end, will pay for. I just pray that next week, when the body bags start coming back, you can find a way to explain to Johnny Jones's mother that her son died for political necessity.' After listening for another minute, Lewis heaved a sigh. 'Yes, Mr. President. It will be a long day. But not near as long for us as it will be for our people moving into Mexico.'
