ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? (57 page)

“Aye,” said the entire Senate.

“All opposed?”

Silence.

“The ayes have it,” said Alvin Gribbish. “The Senate is adjourned.”

Garvey blinked a couple of times, after which he banged the gavel once,
sharply.

Chapter Thirty

Callaway switched off the television set, then turned to his wife, stunned.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Julia said. “I think we won.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“My God, Charlie.”

“I know. They passed the bill, right?”

“Right. That’s what they did.”

Callaway closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he was smiling
and shaking his head in amazement. “I think I have finally arrived at a
pinch-me moment.”

Julia laughed. “But you knew you’d win, didn’t you? You told me so.”

“And you believed me?”

In answer, she bent over to kiss him and the kiss turned into a hug, a long,
tight hug overflowing with unspoken words and feelings. When they finally
separated, they just looked at each other in wonder.

“Wait a minute,” Callaway said.

“What?”

“I want to be sure this really happened.” He reached for the telephone, which
rang before he had a chance to pick it up.

“Bourque?” Julia asked. “Bowman?”

The President said hello.

“It’s Eric,” Wang said. “I’m here with Marty and Veronica, on the speakerphone.
We wanted to be the first to congratulate you. You just etched your name into
the history books.”

“Thanks, Eric. But hold off on the history books for awhile, okay? Don’t know
yet if I’m going to be the hero or the goat.”

“Well, you know our opinion.” Katz said. “I’m thinking of having you knighted.”

“Couldn’t have done it with you, all three of you.”

“So, Mr. President,” Veronica said, “what’s your next trick—walking on water?”

More laughter.

“Listen, I better get off the phone,” Callaway said. “Bourque and Bowman will
be calling, no doubt.”

But they didn’t. Everybody else called, the Vice President, a couple of
governors, some big city mayors, and even Oscar Wendell.

Callaway thanked Wendell.

“I don’t think I’ve done you any favors,” said the Senator. “But I couldn’t let
it be a narrow victory. Had to give you a decent chance.”

“Well, I think you’re a genuine patriot, Oscar.”

“I’ve been called worse. But I’ll consider the source.”

When he hung up, Callaway was surprised to see Julia looking out the window.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Just listen.”

Callaway listened. “Church bells, coming from the northwest. Must be the
National Cathedral.” He checked his watch. “That’s odd,” he said.

Another set of church bells chimed in. “I think that’s St. Patrick’s,” Julia
said.

Then came more bells, each set tuned a bit differently and coming from a
different direction. And more. And still more. “Jesus,” Callaway said in awe.
“Must be every church in town.”

The ringing multiplied until it seemed to fill the air. They listened,
spellbound. “This I definitely did not expect,” Callaway said.

“I hear voices,” Julia said.

“Oh? Shall I call a doctor?”

“No, silly,” she said, slugging him on the shoulder, “outside, singing.”

He joined her at the window. A fairly large crowd had gathered on Pennsylvania
Avenue and they could clearly hear the ragged strains of
America the
Beautiful.
.

“Hmmm. Do you think…”

“Let’s find out,” Julia said. She switched on the television and flipped to
CNN.

A picture of Times Square came up.
It was crowded with—there was no other word for it—celebrants, singing
patriotic songs, cheering, dancing and generally acting festive.

A voiceover reporter was describing the scene: “…tourists and natives alike who
saw the reunion news on the illuminated news signs spontaneously assembled and
started to party...”

The picture cut away from Times Square to Lakefront Park in Chicago, then to
Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, then to the Harvard Square in Cambridge. The
reporter continued. “Meanwhile, similar scenes are taking place throughout the
country—all spontaneous reactions to the reunion vote.”

“Okay,” Callaway said, “I am officially dumbfounded. I was hoping for approval,
but this goes far beyond my expectations.”

“There’s more,” Julia said, pointing to the television.

Now it was showing scenes—identical scenes—in downtown Atlanta, New Orleans and
Raleigh. “And what we’re seeing in the NAU is being repeated in the South,”
said the reporter, over the pealing church bells. “A few protesters have showed
up, but they were vastly outnumbered and they soon disappeared.”

The Callaway’s television watching was interrupted by another phone call, this
one from Senator Ed Lockett, the Senate Majority Leader.

“I imagine you’ve seen the crowds outside your window,” he began.

“Yes. Julie and I have been watching them. Pretty damn gratifying.”

“I gather it’s happening everywhere else too,” Lockett continued.

“Yeah. We’ve been watching TV. I never dreamed the reaction out be so big, and
so universally approving.”

“You know, it’s gonna take awhile for this to sink in Mr. President, for all of
us. And we have a lot of hard work in front of us. Let’s remember not to fuck
it up, okay?”

“You’re reading my mind, Ed.”

Callaway tried to get Bourque on the phone, only to find out that the President
was resting and would get back to him. Then Callaway called Bowman and was
amused to discover that the Prime Minister of Canadia was fishing and
unreachable. Both assistants promised they’d call later.

Finally, the telephone stopped ringing.

Julia reached out and put her hand on her husband’s, shaking her head, still
stunned by the day’s events. “What happens now, Charlie?” she asked.

A broad smile slowly spread across Callaway’s face. “I’m curious about that
myself,” he said. “We’ve all just landed on a new planet.”

*

After the roll call, Pickett and Delphine dressed, almost in silence. The vote
had taken their breath away. They were simultaneously astounded, overwhelmed
and jubilant.

Delphine presented her back, for Pickett to do some zipping.“I’m not sure I
believe this.”

As he zipped, he pinched her arm and she yelped. “Well, I guess we’re not
dreaming, or at least
you’re
not,” he said, grinning.

“This changes everything,” she said.

“Hard to argue with that observation,” he admitted.

“Maybe we can be seen in public now,” she said, and they looked at each other
and shook their heads. “No, I guess not. Not yet.”

“Soon, though,” Pickett said. He kissed her on the forehead.

She poked around with a foot, looking for her shoes. “What do you think made
Wendell change his mind?”

“Well, I guess there’s an off chance he just decided to do what was right,”
Pickett suggested.

“Hah!” said Delphine, conclusively. “I say hah!”

“You’re probably right.”

“I have to talk to my father,” Delphine said. Pickett handed her the phone and
she dialed.

“Hello?” It was a voice Delphine didn’t recognize.

“This is Delphine Bourque,” she said. “May I speak to my father?”

“Ah, Delphine. This is Lester Cohen, your father’s doctor. Where are you?”

“In a cabin in the bayou. Is he okay?” she asked.

“How long will it take you to get here?”

“About an hour,” she said. “How bad is he?”

“He’s resting now, but I think you should come as soon as you can.”

They made it to Arcadia in less than 45 minutes, Pickett driving like a crazy
man. Then they raced to Bourque’s bedroom. Dr. Cohen was standing outside,
surprised at their quick arrival. Baton Rouge’s church bells could be heard in
the distance.

“He’s sleeping at the moment,” Dr. Cohen said. “But he does want to see you.”

“Tell us what’s going on,” Pickett said.

Cohen gave them a tiny shrug. “He’s not in any pain, but…

“But what?” Delphine wanted to know.

“I think we’re entering the final stages.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, but did not cry.

“Does he know?” Pickett asked.

“He does,” Cohen said. “And I think he’s okay with it, especially after the vote.”

Delphine clasped her hands together and raised them to her face, almost in a
praying gesture. “The church bells?”

“They’ve been pealing ever since the reunion motion passed,” Cohen said. “He’s
heard them. And he’s heard about the celebrations.”

“The celebrations?” Pickett asked.

“Demonstrations all over the CSA—and the NAU too. And Canadia. Almost all of
them positive.”

“I didn’t know,” Pickett admitted.

“It’s pretty amazing,” Cohen said. “It’s as though all of North America was
just waiting for this to happen.”

Delphine opened the door before Cohen or Pickett could slow her down and she
hurried to her father’s bedside. Bourque was lying on top of the covers in his
clothing, looking shrunken. The drapes were drawn. “Daddy?”

Nothing. Pickett and Cohen followed her inside.

“Daddy?”

One eye opened. “Delphine,” he said. It was little more than a whisper. But
then the other eye opened and he smiled. “Come hug,” he instructed. She did,
and Bourque hugged back, with great tenderness.

“Daddy…” she began, disengaging. “Dr. Cohen…”

Bourque put a finger to his lips. “We won, Delphine.” This time the smile was
broad. “I don’t know how we did it, but we did. All of us, I mean.”

“You’re the one who deserves the credit,” Pickett said.

“I don’t know exactly how we did it,” Bourque said. “But somehow we managed to
pull the ox out of the ditch.”

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” Delphine asked Dr. Cohen.

“No good reason to do that,” Cohen said. “He’s about as comfortable as he’s
going to get.”

Bourque gestured to Delphine to come closer, to bend down. “Listen, Darlin’,”
he said, “wouldja mind opening the curtains? I’m havin’ a hard time makin’ out
that portrait of your Mama.”

Pickett beat her to it, spreading the drapes wide, flooding the room with
sunlight.

Bourque turned his head to look at the portrait. “Mighty fine woman, your
Mama,” he told Delphine. “Wish you’d known her better.”

“I remember her pretty well,” Delphine said, sharing her father’s gaze.

“Well, Cady,” Bourque said, addressing the picture, “Seems like we did it,
dream coming true. Couldn’t have done it without you, Darlin’.” His eyes
closed.

“Daddy?”

Bourque looked up at his daughter again. “One more thing, daughter. That fella
of yours? It’s only my opinion, but I think he’ll do to ride the river with.”

Delphine took one hand and Pickett took the other.

Bourque looked at both of them. “There’s a whole new day tomorrow that ain’t
been touched yet,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“You rest now, Daddy,” Delphine said, squeezing his hand.

Bourque’s eyes closed again.