Chapter Six
Three Months Later:
It had been a gala affair: everyone in attendance agreed on that. The men looked debonair, suave, gallant, carefree; the ladies radiated beauty, acuity, friendliness, and charm; the orchestra members played with verve, exuberance, interest, and knowledge; the resultant music sounded like heavenly high-fidelity; the beautiful and gifted female singer resembled, in the words of the poet Shelley, a “nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” It had indeed been a gala affair!
The Nobel Committee had made a quick decision: the Peace Prize would be awarded to the American Human Rights Committee for its work in alleviating human suffering in the form of slavery. Every person in the world had heard or read about the exciting rescue of the hostages. Now, the Waldorf Astoria in New York City was the setting for the Award presentation.
Everyone who was anyone in the field of diplomacy, humanitarianism, medicine was present. World leaders, captains of industry, commerce and labor were also in attendance. The dinner had been the usual thing expected from the Waldorf; superb, grand, and marvelous. Now Lester Lanin had taken over and driven the dancers into a frenzy with his distinctive style of music. When he had taken a break, Luis Mendez had continued the festivities with his throbbing Latin beat: the tango, mambo, and the cha-cha. At eleven p.m. the award presentation and speeches began.
A tall, beautiful, blond American lady named Summer Sinclair accepted the prize for the committee. Her speech was short but to the point.
“Ladies and Gentlemen:
“I am very proud to serve as the spokesperson for the Committee. My trip to the Sudan was my first introduction to international politics. I had never been politically minded, so it was enlightening to view one of the problems that constantly threaten the peace and welfare of the world. We were lucky to buy children and send them to safety. But this is the end of the twentieth century, not the fourteenth. We should have no such thing as slavery or involuntary servitude of any kind. I call upon the Sudan government to abolish the fiendish practice.”
“At this time” Summer stopped as she received a long-standing ovation. She colored but continued, “at this time I wish to thank the wonderful brave men and women from my own country, aided by equally brave people from several other countries including the Sudan itself whose names cannot be divulged at the present, but who are well known to most of you, who risked their lives to save the hostages. One man in particular, the team leader who is absent tonight, should be singled out for his heroism in saving my life and that of another agent. I refer to Mr. Scott Emerson, the eminent attorney.”
Everyone knew the reason why the woman suddenly became quiet, why she hesitated before continuing, why she now seemed to be in a hurry to finish the speech.
“Once again I wish to thank the Nobel Prize Committee for the award.”
The blond lady walked off the stage followed by another ovation; a bit stronger this time. As she sat at her table, someone handed her a note.
It read:
“Imperative that I should talk to you. Please meet me in the lobby.”
Signed: Matthew Lindstrom, Under Secretary of State.
A perplexed Summer hurried to the meeting place not knowing what to expect. She stood, undecided as to her next step when a dignified, elderly man approached her. His bearing and face signaled diplomacy.
“Ms. Summer Sinclair, Matthew Lindstrom. I’m glad you took my note seriously. Let us find a seat. I have something important that you should know.”
The man located two comfortable chairs in a corner.
He wasted no time in idle chatter.
“I congratulate you on your speech. I believe you were once married to Mr. Scott Emerson. Am I correct?”
“You are.”
“I do not wish to re-open old wounds, but a gentleman from the CIA filled me in recently on the bitter divorce that followed the botched raid on a terrorist gang four years ago. So far, so good?”
“I blamed Scott for my brother’s death. I felt he had not taken the proper precaution to protect the team.”
“Let us go back four years. At that time three executives from an oil company were taken prisoners by the same Fatah you ran into at the Sudan. We discovered the hiding place in Syria, some distance from the border with Israel. Scott Emerson conducted the negotiations while the team moved into place. The Company CEO double-crossed his own men because he had signed a secret deal to develop an oil field with the Syrian government for a lucrative sum of money. He sent word to Fatah that the rescue team was on the way. We found out about it too late. Emerson walked into the trap. By the time he could extricate the agents, six of them died. In revenge Scott went back to Syria and blew up Fatah’s secret base, but the man was not there. Emerson did destroy the organization, however. The Syrian government then banned Fatah from the country. That’s why he moved his base to the Sudan, the only country that would take him in. Emerson had always blamed the American government for the ambush, but it was not so.”
Summer remained quiet. She was stunned. The reality of her foolishness in not believing Scott suddenly threatened to overwhelm her with its horrible consequences. It had not been his fault. He was not responsible for Jimmy’s death! She could only stare at the man who had made everything right.
“Oh, dear God. What have I done? I shattered two lives because I was of little faith. Why didn’t Miller tell me that?”
“Would you have believed him?”
“Probably not. To think we lost four years, four long years.”
“Sometimes problems must work themselves out. We cannot always force a solution. What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. I can talk to Scott, I guess, for what it’s worth. I must make things right, but I don’t even know where he lives.”
The man from State smiled and whispered, “Go home and sit tight. Something will turn up.”
Summer looked up. The smile she gave the man wiped twenty years from his life. She left her chair and grabbed the man in a bear hug he would always remember. He gazed smilingly in her direction long after she had disappeared.
It was late afternoon, but Scott Emerson did not feel gloomy, not at all. True, he had his martini pitcher close by, but he did not have the terrible need to empty it. Today had been a good one. Old Miguel had won a bundle in restitution money from the county government because the Supervisors had gone back on their agreement to pay the Mexican farmer a fair market price for his small farm that had been in the way of a road extension. In addition, Scott had forced them to pay a steep fine as penalty. He hoped that the Board members had learned a lesson. But he knew politics. They would try the same thing at some other time. The more money the supervisors swindled from the Mexicans, the more money they had to spend on their perks and pet projects. He smiled. It was good for his business and his state of mind, however. Added to that was Miguel’s invitation to spend Christmas Day with his family. Scott had readily accepted.
He noticed a car coming slowly up the bumpy road but paid no attention. Most likely it would go on to a nearby ranch. Scott went back inside since the weather was acting up. A winter storm was coming in off the coast; he needed to light up the fireplace.
Scott reflected on the rescue and wondered if the blond girl had recovered from her wound and what she was doing. Will I ever see her again, he murmured wistfully as he settled himself on the couch, watching the fire brighten the room. He wasn’t sure. What will she do now? Damn but he missed her. He slammed his fist on the couch arm. Why in hell didn’t she believe me? Why in hell did she think I could be so callous with the men’s lives as to deliberately act in a dangerous manner? Why in hell—why am I even thinking about it. She’s gone for good now. Good-bye, dear Summer. It was great while it lasted, believe me.
He thought about his own future. Did he have one? Could he ever go back to the rat race? Would he marry again? More importantly, did he want to? His marriage to the blond girl had been a very happy one up to the break-up. He dismissed his reverie and got up to get his pitcher from the porch. Then he froze. She was standing at the door, looking as beautiful as ever. He did not know what to say. He felt foolish looking at her with his mouth open.
“Hello, Scott. Won’t you invite me in? It’s cold outside.”
“Of course, Summer. Please come in and close the door. You seem to have recovered well enough from the injury.”
It was complete inane talk, but the bewildered man had not yet regained his composure. He watched that old sexy walk with hidden pleasure. Damn, he thought once again, one hundred twenty pounds of ecstasy or pure hell depending on the situation. He knew he was repeating himself, but he could think of nothing else.
“May I ask the obvious question? How did you find me?”
Summer turned at the fireplace and replied, “A little bird told me.”
“Miller, of course. To what do I owe this visit?”
It was dumb talk, but Scott was still off balance. He needed time.
The girl replied in a small still voice, “Someone from the State Department told me everything. The CIA did not betray you, believe me, please. I came here to apologize. I know I’m four years too late. Would it do any good, Scott, to explain the kind of girl I was, the foolishness in me, the strange things I seemed to want and then found out they were not what I wanted after all? Would it help if I said I made a mistake in not believing you and realized it as soon as you were gone? Would it help if I said I am sorry? I spent the last four years regretting my mistake.”
Summer waited, let time run out. She looked at Scott expectantly, a small smile playing around her mouth. Her eyes were slightly moist.
Scott did not reply at once. He walked to the fire and stared into it. It reminded him of the old man in London. What could he say? He had to say something. Could he tell her of all the times he had looked down the road, expecting her? Could he explain the nights he had lain awake thinking of her, smelling her perfume, re-living the excitement of her presence? Could he tell her the expectancy of seeing her that he had built up on his rescue mission when she had been in his thoughts every moment. Could he—.
Summer interrupted his reverie. “I can’t believe the love we had for each other could ever die out so soon. I don’t believe it could ever die out at all. It meant everything to us. How could it be nothing now?”
Scott shot out in a tortured voice, “Was it everything to you? Why then did you throw it away? Do you think I could possibly have been so negligent in my responsibilities to the agents as to endanger their lives, especially Jimmy’s?”
“When it was too late, I knew you could not have been, but my pride forbade me to seek you out to apologize. I realized in the Sudan that I had hurt you as badly as if I had shot you, that I needed to see you again to make things right for us once more. I never expected to come here and discover that I was no longer in your heart. I sincerely thought you would still think of me, still remember the foolish girl who thought you were everything in the world to her. I lived the past three months nourishing the idea that you still cared for me, that you might consider giving me another chance, that perhaps we could start over, that this time it would be different.”
She walked slowly to Scott, her eyes never leaving his. He looked at her. She begged him silently to accept her, to come to her.
“I always carried the hope that someday it could be different. Can it, Scott? Can we start over? Is it too late?”
The lonely years were too much for Scott to take anymore. Summer’s sincerity broke down his doubts. He opened his arms and the blond girl settled into them with a sigh of contentment and happiness.
She murmured, “I can’t reach up.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes. I have much to give you. I must be sure you have something for me.”
“Remember the last time I kissed you, a lifetime away?”
“Yes. I have remembered it always.”
“Was it a mild thing, Summer?”
“Love between a man and a woman is seldom a mild thing, Scott darling.”
Scott could no longer restrain himself. He brought his lips down and searched out the blonde girl’s mouth.
At one point the girl murmured, “Will you love me forever? It will be a beautiful Christmas for both of us.”
The man looked at her. A bright light moved over his face as if a strong hot wind had lit it. Scott brought his lips down again, shutting off any more talk.
In her last lucid moment, Summer agreed that it had been indeed a gala affair!!!
