The Commander Ch. 09

Fiona turned around to me – she was looking into the sun, and the evening glow made her more beautiful than thought possible. "Jet?" she asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yes Fiona."

"Do you still ask that same question every morning and every night?"

"Without fail," I replied sombrely.

Fiona stepped toward me and put her hands gently around my face. "Jet, stop asking." I went silent – I couldn't dare to hope. "Jet," Fiona whispered, "I love you."

I gently took hold of her wrists, and pushed her hands away so I could see her left hand. It was open. No fist.

"Jet," Fiona breathed anxiously. "Did you hear what I said? Why are you looking at my hand?"

"Because something is missing," I offered quietly. I have been ready for this moment for seven weeks and two days. I felt in my left trouser pocket and pulled out a small box, and opened it, showing Fiona an engagement ring with a large central diamond and eleven small diamonds surrounding it. For fifty one days I rehearsed this moment. I dropped to one knee. "You have over a million reasons to say no, and I can only pray the one reason you have to say yes is enough. Fiona Elizabeth Ruston, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jet!" Fiona put her hands to her face.

"Before you answer," I said, still on my knees. I knew this wasn't proper proposal etiquette, but I had to do this now. I was straying off script. "I have made a very big decision about me, about what I am going to do with my life. It will affect both of us. Fiona, when we go back home, I am going into politics."

"You mean city council?" Fiona asked, her hands still on her cheeks.

"I'm thinking bigger."

"Senate, congress?" She looked emotionally discombobulated, but stayed with the conversation.

Still kneeling, I said "I could see a senate or congress seat might be necessary stepping stone to where I'm going."

"Jet! The only place after ..." she didn't finish her sentence.

"Fiona Elizabeth Ruston," I asked again, "will you marry me, and someday become the first lady of the United States?"

"Oh, Jet, Yes!"

"Fiona, I mean it. I'm going to do this."

"I know you will, Jet," Fiona said to me with remarked assuredness. "The answer is still yes."

I pulled the diamond ring from its plush socket in the small box and slipped it on to Fiona's fourth finger of her left hand. I stood up and we embraced in a long kiss. A cheer rang out from the villa, and Fiona and I both looked in surprise. Jocelyn, Caitlyn, Bailey, and Hannah were standing on the upper deck clapping and cheering. Presently Jocelyn trotted down the six stairs to the wooden overpass and then she ran full gait toward us with outstretched arms. Fiona broke her embrace with me and met Jocelyn on the outer deck and the twin sisters laughed and cried in a minute long embrace.

At last Jocelyn broke away from Fiona and came to me and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. "Took you long enough," Jocelyn jabbed. I winked at Fiona. "Let's see the ring," Jocelyn said as she returned to Fiona. Fiona held out her left hand.

"Oh, its beaut ... Jet! It's missing a diamond!"

"Yes," I agreed. Now Fiona looked more carefully, realizing for the first time there was a setting for twelve small diamonds around the large central stone, but one of the small diamonds was gone. "I had the jeweller remove it."

"Why?" Fiona asked.

"Because there is a part of me – a dark past – the 'Old Jet', as you say – that is not invited to this union. That missing stone will forever reminder us that the Old Jet must never be allowed to come between us – ever again."

"Quirky," Jocelyn observed with a dubious tone in her voice.

"I like it," Fiona smiled and hugged me hard.

"I thought you would." I looked over and saw the disco sisters traipsing along the overpass toward the outer deck. "Come join us," I called out. "I would like to introduce to you the future Mrs. Terrance." Fiona snapped her head to me when she heard that.

"I was in the house looking at the sunset," exclaimed Bailey nearly out of breath, "and I saw you go down on one knee, and I yelled to everyone 'Jet is proposing to Fiona!'" That explains why they were all on the upper deck watching us.

Fiona spent our remaining days at the Keys walking, talking, holding hands, laughing. We talked about our future, about children, about politics, about our dreams. We made love every night, and I quit my morning blowjobs with the disco sisters – Fiona didn't ask me to, I just quit.

Fiona, being the considerate twin sister, divided her time between me and Jocelyn. She didn't want Jocelyn to suddenly feel like the unwanted third in the two-man boat. And so we included Jocelyn in many of our walks along the beach, and in some of our less personal discussions about our future. The time flew by like a flash, and before I knew it, we were heading the airport to fly back home.

Jocelyn's flight was on Monday afternoon, ours late in the evening. So we packed everything up after lunch, and dropped Jocelyn at the airport, then Fiona, the disco sisters, and I went for dinner, and then returned to the airport around seven that night. At the Key West departure lounge, I accidently bumped into a man dressed in expensive casual clothing. We chatted briefly, and I discovered he was a retired political campaign strategist. He worked deep behind the front lines – he was the voice that whispered into the ear of the strategist that the candidate hired. Larry had worked for everyone – the two Bush campaigns and the Clinton campaign. His last campaign was Obama – he retired after the 2008 election. I gathered his was a name you never heard discussed except by the few select people who knew where the real power lies.

I suggested that, if someone like me was interested in getting into politics, Larry would be an ideal person to get things started. Larry agreed – that was one of his fortes – kicking a campaign off on day 1. I asked Larry to come visit me at my condo – I'd like him to help me.

"Oh, no," Larry conceded, "I'm fully retired. You'll need to find someone else." I shook Larry's hand. I'm sure no one else saw anything unusual. "Well, on second thought," reflected Larry, "maybe I can come out of retirement this one last time."

"I'd like to introduce my fiancé," I said to Larry. "This is Fiona. Fiona, meet Larry, my first campaign strategist." We talked casually in the departure lounge. Larry was taking a different flight out, but he agreed to fly over from Seattle and see me the following week. We exchanged email and cell phone coordinates.

On the flight home, I was thinking how crazy lucky I have been. Things just seem to fall into place for me. Fiona and I sat in our business class seats while the disco sisters sat in the more crowded seats toward the rear end of the plane. Around mid-flight, Fiona leaned over to me. "I know what you do is impossible."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I overhead your conversation with Larry at the airport. I struck out with the disco sisters for a half hour before you waltzed over there with your little cheers trick at Spankies. I looked into the eyes of that Australian girl at the airport, and I saw she turn into a completely different person the moment you spoke to her. The same for the ticket agent who refused my passport to Paris. And how you turned Jocelyn around in a whisper. Everything you do is impossible." I looked around – no one was listening over the drone of the engines.

"Fiona, I don't ..."

"Don't bullshit, me, Jet!" Fiona interrupted sharply. "Like you once said to me, I am not wrong, and I know I am not wrong." I had no cards to play, so I waited. "Two conditions to this marriage." Fiona dictated. "They are forever, and they are not for discussion. Is that clear?"

"Okay," I said.

"I don't know if you did already, but you never – I mean never – pull that shit on me. Ever. You promise that to me – and you know what I mean when I say you PROMISE."

"Okay," I offered solemnly. "I promise I will never control you, ever," I honestly swore, holding up my left hand with the slightly crooked small finger.

"Two" Fiona continued, "I don't care if you use your little trick to fuck girls, boys, threesomes, or whatever, and I don't care if you use it to influence people like Larry to become president, or to make your millions," I was waiting for the 'but". "Jet, don't you ever make me regret what you do. Not once. Not even one single time. Do you hear me, Jet?"

"I promise," I offered.

"Good," she kissed me softly on the lips. "Now, let's go kick the doors in at the Whitehouse." As she kissed me, I removed the last post-hypnotic skips to clench her left fist when she tells me a lie, and to blink twice when I say 'blue dog'. After all, every successful marriage depends on a few white lies.

--- The End ---

--- Epilogue ---

I read the letter one last time before posting it.

Janice DeLaney
The Pancreatic Cancer Research Establishment

Dear Ms. DeLaney:

I am enclosing a photograph of Mr. Don Malloy from his earlier years, when he was a vibrant and healthy man. Don recently died of pancreatic cancer. Mercifully, he was in a coma during the last months, and he was spared the savagery that so often accompanies this illness.

I knew Don better than most, which, if truth be told, is not that well. If he were able to, I believe Don would tell you he died a lonely and broken man. His greatest fear, he once confided to me, was that Don would die a forgotten soul who never made a difference in this world.

Before he died, Mr. Malloy appointed me as the executor of his will. In accordance with his explicit instructions, please find enclosed a cheque for $2,548,281.73, which represents 100% of Mr. Malloy's estate, after disposition expenses.

Please remember Don Malloy as a once good and compassionate man who lost his way after tragedy stole those people most dear to him. Please remember Don Malloy as a person who, in his closing breath, sought to help people he will never live to accept their thanks. Please remember Don Malloy and the difference he will make in this world through this contribution to your organization.

Please remember Don Malloy.

Yours Truly,

Jethro (Jet) Terrance