I SUPPOSE THERE might have been one good thing about the punishing southern-style heat wave that had settled over Washington: that night Meg had gone to bed wearing her lightest nightgown. As I opened the door to our room Meg was resting on our bed, pretending to read her leatherbound copy of the book of Psalms.
“Are you speaking to me?” I asked her.
“You weren’t here to speak to until now,” she answered without looking up.
I leaned down and kissed her and was relieved that she didn’t turn away.
Meg was so lovely just then, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down beside her. But it wouldn’t be fair, not with the knowledge running around in my head.
“Meg,” I said softly, “I have something to tell you. I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I went to the White House tonight,” I said.
Her eyes flashed. In one second the hardness melted into joy.
“The White House!” she cried. “Oh, I knew it! I knew Roosevelt would have to come around! You’re one of the best young lawyers in town. How ridiculous of him to have waited this long to offer you a position!”
“It’s not a position,” I said. “The president asked me to… take on a mission for him. It could be for a month or two.”
Meg sat straight up. The Psalms slid to the floor with a soft plop. “Oh, Ben, you’re going to leave us again? Where?”
“Home,” I said. “To Mississippi. To Eudora.”
She exhaled sharply. “What could the president possibly want you to do in that godforsaken corner of nowhere?”
“I’m sorry, Meg,” I said. “I can’t tell you. I had to give Roosevelt my word.”
Meg’s rage exploded, and she cast about for a suitable weapon. Seizing the bottle of French eau de toilette I had given her for her birthday, she fired it against the wall with such force that it shattered. A dreamy scent of lavender filled the room.
“Meg, how could I say no? He’s the president of the United States.”
“And I’m your wife. I want you to understand something, Ben. When you go back to Mississippi, on your mission, you’d best be advised to purchase a one-way ticket. Because if you go, there’s no point in coming back. I mean that, Ben. So help me, I’m serious. I can’t wait for you any longer.”
I heard a sound behind me. Meg and I turned to discover that we had an audience for this display: Alice and Amelia.
“Hello, girls,” I said. “Mama and I are having a talk. An adult talk. Back to bed with both of you now.”
Meg had already turned her face away from the door. I could see from the heaving of her shoulders that she was crying, and that made me feel awful.
I walked the girls back to their room, where I tucked them in, covering them gently with the light cotton sheets that sufficed on hot nights like this.
I kissed Amelia, then Alice. Then I had to kiss Alice again, and Amelia, in that order, to even things out.
As I rose to leave, Amelia threw her skinny arms around me and tugged me back down to her side.
“Don’t go, Papa,” she said in a voice so sweet it nearly broke my heart. “If you go, we’ll never see you again.”
The moment Amelia said it, I had the terrible thought that my little girl just might be right.