And in a house in Potomac Falls, Virginia, the Malich family watched the election returns with Bartholomew Coleman as their guest of honor. There was no suspense. But the TV stayed on, filling the sound clips of cheering crowds and excited newsmen.
Now and then, Cole and Cessy exchanged knowing glances.
When the polls closed in California, President Nielson appeared on camera. He had been reelected to Congress from his Idaho district in a landslide of his own. He seemed genuinely happy as he said, “I am pleased to announce my resignation from the presidency, effective tomorrow at noon. I was never more than an emergency President, and the emergency is over. There’s no reason for Averell Torrent not to start right away doing the job you chose him to do.”
Cecily broke down in tears. Just for a moment. “That’s just like LaMonte. Have we ever had a President who truly didn’t want the job?”
“Besides Warren Harding?” said Cole.
“Who?” said Mark.
“A dumb guy who got chosen to be President once because he looked presidential and all the people who actually wanted the job had too many people who hated them,” said Cole. “But your mom is right. Nielson did a good job as long as he was needed. And he chose his successor.” He grinned at Cecily. “Just like Trajan and Hadrian and Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius.”
“And you claim you’re not a historian,” said Cecily, wiping her eyes, but laughing ruefully.
Thirty minutes later, Torrent came on the screen.
“I am honored beyond measure by the trust the American people have shown in me. I’m glad that so many people have come to the polls to show they share my dream of a nation united, a single people who sometimes disagree, but always remain friends and fellow citizens. I will live up to your trust to the best of my ability.
“I am moved by the generosity and humility of my good friend, President LaMonte Nielson. Not only did he raise me to national prominence, but also he trained me for the job that you have voted to give me. His willing resignation from the presidency is in the spirit of Cincinnatus, the great Roman leader who, having saved his city, resigned all his offices and returned to his farm to continue his life as an ordinary citizen.”
“A Roman reference,” said Cole.
“But not an emperor,” said Cecily.
Torrent was still talking. “There is nothing ordinary about LaMonte Nielson, however. He will continue to serve in Congress, and he will continue to hold a place in the hearts of the American people, in gratitude for his excellent service during our deepest national crisis since the Civil War.”
“Exactly the right thing to say,” said Cecily.
“Tomorrow I will be sworn into office as the second appointed Vice President to succeed to the presidency because of the resignation of his predecessor. In January, I will be sworn in again, for the term you just elected me to. But I have not forgotten that last June, on the thirteenth day, foreign terrorists murdered the elected President of the United States, the Vice President, the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and other dedicated servants of the American people in the performance of their duties.
“This was an offense to the entire American people. During the turmoil of the past few months, we have had our minds on problems within our borders. But the outrage committed against us has not been forgotten. Our response will be measured. It will be just. It will be thorough. It will be inevitable.
“But throughout the world, let every nation look to America for friendship. If you live at peace with your neighbors, if you provide fundamental human rights to your citizens, then we will join hands with you in perpetual partnership. We will show you that America longs for peace. We will have it within our own borders. We will help maintain it wherever it is threatened.
“And here at home, we will look at ourselves, not as groups arrayed against each other, quarreling over endless divisive issues, but as a single society, linked together by a shared culture, a shared history, and a shared future. Let’s build that future together, day by day, as neighbors, with respect, as you have joined together tonight in this great exercise of democracy.”
That was it. He was done.
There was no cheering crowd, because he had not given his speech at election headquarters. There was no election headquarters. He had not campaigned. Instead, he had gone from city to city, state to state, wherever the local candidates would agree to appear with him together, on the same platform, and each pledge to support their opponent if he should win. It was as if he were running an anti-campaign.
And now, his acceptance speech was given quietly, while sitting in his living room, with a single camera crew. Behind him, shelves of books. Beside him, his family. The perfect image of what Americans would like to think their Presidents are—intelligent, loving, kind, modest, and surprised by their good fortune.
“I wonder,” said Cole, “if he’ll remember that Cincinnatus speech four years from now.”
“He won’t have to,” said Cecily, “if he’s reelected.”
“He seems like exactly the President I’ve wished for,” said Cole.
“Me too,” said Cecily.
“Hope it’s true.”
“Me too.”
Cole got up from the sofa and stretched. “Let’s have cookies.”
AFTERWORD