A Second Chance

For the next two hours, her mother conducted an examination of me in such detail that I'm sure she could have written the definitive biography of Tommy Jackson by the time she was finished. I am equally sure that by the time the evening ended, Amy's mother knew more about me than did my own mother. As the evening progressed, her tone and manner began to warm. By the time we were finished, Amy's mom appeared to give grudging consent to our relationship, a far more successful outcome than either Amy or I had anticipated.

It wasn't completely smooth sailing from then on, but when I went to her mom a year later to ask for her permission to marry Amy, she gave it and gave us her blessing as well. Amy and I had hoped for a small, simple wedding, but Senator's sons who are also heirs to a fortune don't get to sneak off and get married in small church in the hinterlands. There are standards for such things and our desires were trumped by my parents' expectations and requirements. Since they wanted the huge extravaganza, I insisted they pay for it, which they did. We finally were married in the National Cathedral and had almost 500 people at our reception. But despite the wretched excess, we were married. Upon our return from our honeymoon, we moved into a townhouse in Georgetown and continued our careers.

We were viewed as an up-and-coming couple in the district. "Washington Monthly" included us in a "Forty Under Forty" article. My work as a congressional staffer, plus my father's connections, led me to a lobbyist's job. The plan was for me to spend a few years there, then move back to the family corporation in an executive role, rotating through various functions in the company to gain familiarity with all portions of the business before succeeding my mother. Amy's term as the justice's clerk had ended and she was now an associate focusing on federal appellate practice with the premier law firm in the district. We had everything two ambitious young people in Washington could ask for. Life wasn't just good, it was spectacular.

When she turned thirty, I told Amy I wanted to get her something special for her birthday. The birthdays ending in zeros are milestones and I wanted to give her a memorable gift to mark the occasion. To my utter astonishment, she told me she wanted a baby.

Power couples in D.C. don't have babies at age 30. They wait until mom and dad are each a partner in the law, lobbying, or accounting firm, or have reached a post of real influence in a congressional office or committee staff position. We were at least four or five years away from being there. But I loved my wife and I wanted her to be happy. Thank God I said yes.

It took us almost six months to get the deed done, but I heard the happy "Yes" from three rooms away when the little plus sign appeared on the test stick. Amy had very little difficulty with the early stages of the pregnancy, experiencing almost no morning sickness and getting positive feedback at each visit to the doctor. She actually seemed to be invigorated by the pregnancy.

When Amy began to complain of tiredness, nausea and stomach pains about five months into the pregnancy, we were not really concerned. She had been working seventy-hour weeks in preparation for a hearing on an extremely contentious appeal pending before the Supreme Court. When the symptoms refused to disappear, I finally forced her to see her family practice doctor. He sent her to an internal medicine specialist, who also failed to diagnose the problem, but decided to have Amy get an MRI. The MRI revealed a mass on her pancreas, leading to a referral to an oncologist and a biopsy. The results were devastating. Amy had an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer.

The oncologist wanted to start a program of chemotherapy and radiation immediately. Amy asked what that treatment would do to the child she was carrying. The oncologist was candid. Those treatments carried considerable risks of causing birth defects and neurological complications for the child. His strong recommendation was that she terminate the pregnancy.

Amy refused. She was going to have this child. Nothing the oncologist said could persuade her otherwise. Nothing I said would do so either. I begged, pleaded, cried, argued, cursed, and ranted. She was adamant and immovable. This child was going to be born and she would do nothing to put it at risk. I tried every negotiating trick I had learned from my grandfather, mother, father and the men and women I had worked for, some of whom were among the finest negotiators on earth. She was unmoved. In the end, I recognized that no matter how much I loved my wife, I was going to lose her. She was going to give her life to allow our child to live. I made as much peace with that decision as was possible and did my crying out of her sight and hearing.

Amy had been growing progressively weaker as the cancer progressed and the obstetrician finally recommended inducing her at 35 weeks. Eowyn arrived into the world at five pounds eight ounces, small but not dangerously so. She spent a few extra days in the nursery before we brought her home.

My parents had insisted on our engaging a nanny for the baby because of Amy's health. My father's chief of staff had two of his staffers study nanny training and qualifications for a week, then flew three graduates of the finest nanny training school in England to the U.S. for an interview. They pre-screened the three candidates then presented them in order of recommendation to us for approval. Amy selected Mia, a 22-year-old farmer's daughter from the north of England. My father expedited the necessary green card. Mia was all business and focused on Eowyn with an intensity that I had never experienced from either my parents or the nannies and maids that raised Mike and me. We moved her into the bedroom adjacent to the nursery. She and Amy proceeded to care for Eowyn and quickly became close. I worked from home as much as possible, often with Amy sitting in the lounge chair in my office so I could be with her.

Amy grew progressively weaker, unable to eat and having considerable trouble sleeping. She was wasting away. Finally, knowing she had only days remaining, we put her into the hospital's hospice facility. I had a bed moved in so I could be with her 24/7. My parents arranged for a service to care for Amy's grandfather and flew her mother in so she could be with Amy as well. And there I sat, awaiting the inevitable, which finally came three months after Eowyn was born. Amy was no more.

CHAPTER FOUR

It took me only a few days after the funeral to realize that I needed a break. Not just time off, but a complete change of scenery and focus. Amy and I had postponed doing so many things in pursuit of career success. Now we would never do them. We had cheated ourselves out of life while pursuing career success.

I spent a day making a list of all the things I wanted to do and see. Then I tore it up and threw it away. These were the things we'd intended to do together. That would never happen. I spent more time thinking about what made me happy. To my surprise, almost all the best memories of my life that didn't include Amy were times spent with Uncle Billy and Aunt Sally. Those times were the ones where I'd felt loved, supported, worthy, productive, useful. None of the things I was doing were giving me the same satisfaction. My job was interesting and certainly lucrative, but I didn't need the money and the impact I made at the end of the day wasn't always something to be proud of.

I called Uncle Billy and asked him if Eowyn, Mia and I could come stay with Aunt Sally and him for a while. He was delighted. Eowyn was the grandchild they'd never have. They wanted to spend time with her. He called the family's corporate pilot and arranged for the jet to pick us up and fly us to Wyoming. Mia and I packed for a long stay. I told my boss I was taking a leave of absence to deal with Amy's death. I'd be at Uncle Billy's if he needed me. Two days later, we boarded the jet and flew to Cheyenne, where one of Uncle Billy's hands picked us up and drove us out to the ranch.

Aunt Sally and Uncle Billy were effusive in their greeting when we arrived. He pointed out that I'd gotten a bit soft and that I needed to spend some time working to get back into cowboy condition. Mia's accent was a huge hit with the entire staff of the ranch. Most of the older hands were married, but there were a few younger cowboys who clearly found that accent a delightful addition to what was already an attractive package. Mia would not lack for friends and admirers, even in the wilds of Wyoming.

Uncle Billy put me to work. Although he was now approaching 82, he still rode out every day to work cattle. He made sure I did the same. For the first couple of weeks, I could barely stay awake long enough to eat dinner. My D.C. exercise program wasn't the kind of preparation for cowboying I thought it was.

Mia made sure I had plenty of time with Eowyn. Aunt Sally made Uncle Billy come back to the house for lunch every day or brought lunch out to him if that wasn't feasible. Mia began accompanying her when she drove out in one of the ranch trucks, Eowyn's car seat mounted on the rear seat of the cab. I ate most of my lunches with my daughter in my lap.

When I'd been gone a month, my boss called me to ask when I planned to return. I told him I needed some more time. In truth, I was seriously considering asking Uncle Billy if I could stay permanently. The honest work of ranching was proving far more satisfying than the D.C. political world.

After two months, my mother turned up at the ranch. She had come to tell me playtime was over. It was time to go back to being an adult. For the first time in my life, I pulled a Mike. I told her "No." I'd never before seen the look she gave me when I refused to do as I was told.

Mother then pulled out the big guns. Grandfather arrived about two weeks later. It had taken him that long to clear his calendar. He attacked from the flanks, beginning by trying to persuade Uncle Billy to tell me the time had come to get back to the real world. I think he was surprised when Uncle Billy refused.

Grandfather then came at me directly. He laid the family guilt trip on me. If I continued hiding out here, I'd never be prepared to succeed my mother as CEO of the company. He was taken aback when I told him I wasn't sure I wanted to do that anymore. He left, grumbling and making threats.

When they pulled my father into the discussion, I knew they were getting desperate. Despite being my father, he'd been the adult least involved in my life. We had a genial, but not particularly deep, relationship. He knew I had some real issues with both his and my mother's lifestyles. My marriage to Amy had brought their respective serial infidelities into sharper focus, which had further reduced my respect for him. And having been a Washington insider, I knew where a bunch of the bodies were buried. Grandfather and my mother were pulling out all the stops.

When none of those efforts succeeded, Grandfather played the money card. When I was born, he'd established a trust for my benefit which he controlled as the trustee. He had considerable control over the trust distributions until I reached age 35, at which point the trust would begin distributing all its income to me. Mike had been the other beneficiary of the trust, but his death had ended that. Since I was only 32, grandfather thought he could starve me out. I had news for him.

"So, the old bastard played the money card, did he?" was Uncle Billy's response. "Can you outlast him?"

"You remember what you told me when they did this to Mike after he went to West Point?"

"Not really."

"You told me 'Never let them control you with money. If they do, you'll never be free. Your entire life will be one long chain attached to golden handcuffs.'"

"Damn, boy. You were listening. I wasn't sure."

"Well, I took that to heart. And Amy was raised in a very traditional Chinese family. Their culture values savings for bad times. Amy and I put everything we could reasonably charge to the company on a company card. We stashed everything we could of our own incomes away in accounts that grandfather, mother, and father have no idea exist. My accountant is the only one who knows, other than me and now you. Plus, we took out life insurance policies on each other when we got married, mostly just to cover the potential inheritance and estate taxes. All the proceeds from Amy's policy are sitting in those accounts as well. I can't go toe to toe with the three of them, but I can last a lot longer than three years. I may have to fly commercial and lose access to the vacation homes and the VIP suites, but I'm good for the foreseeable future."

Uncle Billy looked at me and started to laugh. "You might be the first person to beat that old bastard at his own game. Let's go see what Sally has for dinner."

CHAPTER FIVE

After we'd been at the ranch for about six months, I called my boss and told him I wasn't coming back. I flew to D.C. to pack up the personal items I wanted and put the house up for rent. With the constant flow of new faces into and old faces out of the district as administrations change, rental properties are at a premium. It took no time at all for my realtor to find a tenant.

Once that was completed, I settled in at the ranch, working alongside Uncle Billy to learn how to manage the property and the operations. He was a great teacher.

Mia had been an immediate hit with Aunt Sally, particularly because of her fierce attachment to Eowyn. Aunt Sally had never approved of my mother's child rearing practices. Seeing Eowyn as a surrogate mother whose entire attention was focused on her child gave Aunt Sally great comfort about Eowyn's future.

Mia also begun taking over some of the chores that had previously fallen to Aunt Sally. Growing up on an English farm had been good, if not perfect, preparation for living on a Wyoming ranch. Mia could ride. Her father had participated in one of the local hunts and had encouraged his children to participate as well. She was familiar with most of the day-to-day chores around the core ranch property, although herding beef cattle was a different activity than managing the small dairy herd on her father's farm. As Eowyn grew and demanded less attention, Mia took over much of the cooking and cleaning duties in the ranch house. She also accompanied Aunt Sally to town when the larder needed restocking or other farm supplies were needed.

Shortly after Mia had arrived at the ranch, Aunt Sally had decided that the traditional English nanny's uniform was completely inappropriate for life in Wyoming. Rather than ask me, she'd simply loaded Mia and Eowyn in the truck one day and taken her into town for a total wardrobe overhaul. By the time she finished, Mia had a complete supply of jeans, western cut shirts, two pairs of boots, a couple of Stetson hats (one for everyday wear and one for dress up) and even a selection of dresses and skirts. Mia began wearing them the following day.

I was still sufficiently sunk in my grief that I barely noticed the change in Mia's wardrobe. The rest of the men at the ranch were more observant. I didn't learn until much later that every single cowboy on the ranch and a couple of the married ones had asked her out, most several times. She'd refused them all.

We'd been there a year when Aunt Sally asked Mia to drive into town and pick up something she needed for supper while Aunt Sally took care of some other chores. To Aunt Sally's surprise, Mia informed her that she didn't know how to drive. When Uncle Billy and I got back to the house that evening, Aunt Sally informed me that I was now Mia's driver training instructor. We then commenced spending an hour a day driving one of the ranch trucks around the ranch and, after Mia's learner's permit arrived, out on the local roadways. Mia proved a quick study, mastering the old truck's manual transmission within a few days and quickly becoming comfortable with driving on what was, to her, the wrong side of the road. Within six weeks, Mia was ready for her test. She passed both the written and on the road portions with flying colors.

The driving lessons were the first real time I'd spent alone with Mia. Aside from instructions and suggestions about mastering the roads and some discussions about Eowyn, we had time to talk about various other things, including her life prior to coming to America. I learned a great deal about English small farm management, including a surprising amount about the impact of various European Union regulations on English farming practices. She was also well-informed about British political and social issues, keeping up via the internet. When I asked her if she missed her family, I discovered that she spoke to them at least weekly, generally via an internet service complete with video. In nearly all respects, she had far more contact with them from 3000 miles away than I did with mine at a fraction of that distance. I also discovered that she was an avid reader, primarily interested in history and biography with a particular focus on British history. There was more depth to this young woman than I'd realized.

The ranch was about a three-hour drive from Cheyenne, the state capitol of Wyoming and home of Cheyenne Frontier Days, a 10-day western extravaganza. Uncle Billy usually rented two houses in town for the event, one for the family and the other for the hands, who took turns attending. Our initial arrival at the ranch had been shortly after the event and I'd not even considered attending the following year, still mired in my own misery. As the next Frontier Days approached, Aunt Sally came to me. "Mia would like to go to the Frontier Days. She's heard so much about it and it's something totally different from anything she's ever seen. It would do her a world of good to get off the ranch for a few days and enjoy a little vacation."

"Can't she go with the boys? I'm sure any of them would be glad to take her."

"If she goes with one of the boys, we'll have fistfights in the bunkhouse for a month. They all want to date her. They've all asked, some several times. She's said no each time. If you take her, none of them will be upset. If anyone of them takes her, all the others will be jealous or angry."

I told Aunt Sally that I'd consider it.

Frontier Days finally arrived. Uncle Billy and Aunt Sally had a block of tickets for all the events. I planned to take Mia for two days. We'd stay in the house rented for the family. There were plenty of bedrooms, so there would be no problem. Aunt Sally would watch Eowyn while we were gone.

I enjoyed our time in Cheyenne. We roamed the fairgrounds, watched professional rodeo, attended a Garth Brooks concert, and even went dancing. To my embarrassment, dancing with Mia triggered a reaction that I hadn't experienced since Amy's illness. Thankfully, my jeans were tight enough to conceal the level of arousal she caused. I hoped she'd been unaware of it.

When we got back to the ranch, I thought things had returned to normal. I had no idea that Aunt Sally and Mia had a long discussion relating to the trip to Cheyenne or that Aunt Sally now had both a program and a plan.

After buying the ranch and leaving active involvement in the management of the family company, Uncle Billy and Aunt Sally had made it a practice to take a month off each year to travel after the roundup was completed. They left the ranch foreman in charge, while they were exploring the U.S., Europe and parts of Asia and Africa. In the forty-some years they'd been doing so, they'd seen the world, or at least the parts of it they wanted to see. Uncle Billy and Aunt Sally had done what Amy and I had failed to do - live instead of just work.

Shortly after my trip to Frontier Days, Uncle Billy asked me to drive him to Cheyenne for a meeting with a state legislator who was working on some issues that impacted the ranch. After we'd been underway an hour or so, he asked me a question. "You're going to turn 35 shortly and you'll have full access to that trust your grandfather created. What are your long-term plans? Are you going to go back to D.C. or go into the business?"