What Happened to the Bennetts(106)

The senators found their seats, a slew of dark suits and lapel pins scrolling through their phones and finishing conversations. I recognized some of them from my lobbying efforts, but the one senator I wanted to see hadn’t yet arrived.

I glanced at Lucinda, who was sitting in the front row next to Ethan, in the new suit and tie that he had worn at Allison’s funeral, which we had held privately a few months ago. She smiled slightly, but her gaze remained impassive, because we’d kept our plan to ourselves.

Suddenly heads turned to the back of the chamber, and a murmur rippled through the crowd. I felt my jaw clench as Senator Ricks appeared and made his way down the aisle, his silvery hair glinting in the overhead lights. He greeted members of his party, nodding and smiling, and they clapped him on the back as if he had won something rather than masterminded a conspiracy that killed Allison. Most of them supported him, and he led in the polls, but I was hoping to change that today.

I had imagined this moment so many times, thinking I would look away, but something primal took over and I glared at the senator as he took his seat. Ricks avoided my eye, even though I was squarely in his sight line. The cameras clicked away, since the media had hyped the standoff, the-father-versus-the-senator, designating us good or evil depending on which news you consumed. I knew who was good and who evil. Soon the world would, too.

The photographers were shooed away, and the Speaker gaveled the hearing to order and made an introductory statement. I was sworn in, eyeing Senator Ricks, who still looked everywhere but at me. He knew the gist of my testimony and was spoiling for a credibility contest, but we hadn’t revealed our evidence. Our primary exhibit was on a poster, and my backers were keeping it under wraps until later, for dramatic impact. But I had other plans.

The Chair of the Select Committee on the Doha Interrogation leaned in to the microphone to make his introductory statement, and my heart began to pound. It was go-time. I rested my hand on my phone casually, then scrolled to the text function, which was already loaded with the photo I had taken on my birthday, proving Senator Ricks a liar when he’d claimed he was in the infirmary at Gitmo.

I pressed send.

I kept my eyes on Senator Ricks, and in the next moment, one of his female assistants received my text message. I’d been able to get her cell number but not his, and I’d typed under the photo: Show this to Senator Ricks immediately.

I sat back to watch, and Lucinda looked over too, because what unfolded was for our satisfaction alone. The assistant frowned at her phone, leaned forward, and showed the screen to Senator Ricks. He glanced over, then the color drained from his face. He grabbed the phone, his lips parting, and looked up, his shocked gaze finally meeting mine.

I got him.





Epilogue



I stood with Lucinda and Ethan in the dappled sunshine of the backyard. We had just planted a magnolia tree in memory of Allison, next to the two trees that were her goalposts, Scylla and Charybdis. They had survived the fire, though much of the yard had to be re-landscaped. Moonie and Jack were off investigating the new hydrangea in the back.

We had moved back in two days ago, and the first order of business was honoring Allison. We had held a vigil for her at school, inviting her friends, teammates, and the entire community. Nine hundred people had shown up, a touching tribute to her. But they had moved on, and the three of us felt torn up inside, our guts wrenched. We grieved because we loved her and she didn’t get to live the full life she deserved. Our feelings were bittersweet, all the time. I was hoping that someday, there would be more sweetness than bitterness.

I had picked up the pieces of my business, and Lucinda had picked up the pieces of hers. We didn’t host the holiday party last winter, using as an excuse that the house wasn’t finished. We weren’t ready for company on our first Christmas without Allison, and her birthday had broken our hearts. When spring came around, my office resumed its softball team, but we needed a slogan for the T-shirts other than our word is law. I didn’t believe in law the way I used to, so we went with we’re your type. What I believed in was truth, justice, and love. Sometimes I thought those were three different words for the same feeling.

Lucinda and I had joined a support group, meeting weekly with a group of heartbroken parents who had lost children to every calamity imaginable, fully aware that we were every parent’s worst nightmare. But we were also proof that there was life afterward, diminished though it might have been. We survived week to week, helping each other through, bound together by our love for our children, who would always live in our hearts.

Senator Ricks had left the presidential race and resigned from Congress, and it was only a matter of time until he was indicted. FBI Special Agent Matt Reilly had gone to prison for twenty years, having pled guilty to his role in the conspiracy. Dom and I talked it over sometimes, and I was letting go of my anger at the system. I knew that nothing would bring back my baby girl, and Allison would never again kick a soccer ball between Scylla and Charybdis.

“What do you think, honey?” I asked Lucinda. “You like the tree where it is?”

“Yes, it looks good.” Lucinda smiled softly, her eyes glistening. She had on a yellow dress for our little ceremony.

“So do I.” Ethan nodded, straightening. Back in school with his friends, he had gained weight, and the therapy had done him good. It had done all of us good, and we went faithfully every week.