Abuse of Power

There wasn't a cloud in the early spring sky and the groundskeepers had the grass long, thick and green in anticipation of the day's expected onslaught of 30,000 people. "What a perfect day for the Easter Egg Roll," Jake thought, as he and Catherine carefully made their way across the White House lawn.

Jake had been apprehensive about Catherine's safety among the throngs of children and their parents swarming the grounds. But Catherine had insisted that she felt fine and that her pregnancy would not be a problem. Nevertheless, he kept his arm firmly wrapped around his wife's expanding waist and a sharp lookout for any overly excited youngster who might threaten to collide with her while searching for the gaily decorated eggs. "We've got our own egg incubating," Jake thought proudly.

Suddenly there were shouts up ahead and the crowd began moving toward the source. Then the air was filled with cheers and laughter, and the mass of people parted to reveal Calvin Arthur "Call me Cap" Pressman, the President of the United States. The man Time Magazine had dubbed "America's Top Salesman" in its Man-of-the-Year edition was decked out in a bunny costume, complete with a tail and long floppy ears.

As Secret Service agents struggled unsuccessfully to keep the crowd back, the President waved at Jake and Catherine and yelled, "How's my favorite aide feeling today?" Catherine smiled broadly and gave him a thumbs-up. He grinned back at her and then proceeded to hop around in a circle to the delight of the children. Jake had to shake his head in admiration. "Only Cap Pressman could pull off something like that," he thought to himself.

The President moved on through the crowd, and Jake noted with amusement that there were almost as many photographers as children in his wake. Jake smiled grudgingly: the man did indeed know how to create a photo-op for himself.

Catherine spotted some other White House staffers she knew in the crowd, and she and Jake began to make their way in their direction. Suddenly she gave a sharp gasp and bent nearly double. Then she moaned and crumpled to the ground before Jake's terrified eyes. He quickly knelt at her side, trying to support her head. "What is it, honey? What's wrong?" he asked urgently, but Catherine seemed to be in so much pain that she couldn't even speak. To Jake's horror he spotted a dark red stain on the skirt of her Easter dress.

In fear and anguish, Jake looked up and began to shout frantically, "We need help! We need a doctor!" The crowd that had formed around them suddenly seemed to part like the Red Sea before Moses, and the President himself was standing over them. The big man turned to a black-suited Secret Service agent and barked, "Get her to the helipad! Get Marine One and tell them I want her taken to Johns Hopkins. Do it now!" he commanded.

As if by magic, three more agents seemed to materialize around Catherine. Brushing Jake aside they lifted her and began carrying her through the crowd at a trot, with Jake struggling to keep up. The dash across the South Lawn seemed to Jake to take forever, but in fact they made the distance in under three minutes, even with the throngs of people filling the lawn.

The big Sikorsky Sea King's rotors were already spinning up, and the agents quickly bundled Catherine inside. As Jake ran to catch up, a strong hand reached out and yanked him bodily into the aircraft just as its wheels began to lift off the ground. He saw Catherine laid out across several seats, and he scrambled over to kneel beside her, holding her hand. The roar of the engine subsided once the door was closed, but there was still a roaring in Jake's ears. As he held Catherine's hand, he glanced out the window once and saw rooftops and buildings he didn't recognize streaming underneath him in a dizzying fashion.

Once again the trip seemed to Jake to take forever, but suddenly Marine One was hovering over the helipad on the roof of the Brady Building of Johns Hopkins Hospital. A team with a gurney was waiting, and as soon as the big helicopter touched down they quickly whisked Catherine off the helipad and across the ramp to the other building where an elevator was waiting. Jake tried to go after her, but the EMTs moved so quickly that he was left behind. After agonizing minutes on the rooftop, the elevator returned and a staffer from the hospital emerged to guide Jake to the correct floor and through a maze of corridors to a waiting room.

For the next two hours, Jake alternately sat and paced around the waiting room. Finally, a white-jacketed figure came to the reception desk and said in a loud voice, "Phillips, Mr. Jacob Phillips?" Jake stood up and hurried over to the woman's side. "How is she?" he asked frantically.

The doctor calmly led him down the corridor away from the waiting room so they could have a little more privacy. "Mr. Phillips, I'm Doctor Nancy Liu, Catherine's OB/GYN. Your wife is out of danger," she said gently. "We're going to keep her overnight for observation, but unless something unexpected happens, you should be able to take her home in the morning."

Jake expelled the lungful of air he'd been holding, and tears of gratitude came to his eyes. But his relief was short-lived. "The baby, doctor, what about the baby?"

The doctor looked at him without expression. "I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips, but your wife suffered a miscarriage. She lost the baby."

Jake felt as though he'd been stabbed in the chest. "Oh, God, why? Why did this happen?"

The doctor looked at him sympathetically. "Mr. Phillips, it's important for you to understand that neither you nor your wife did anything wrong. Actually, between 15% and 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that's if the woman knows she is pregnant. An even larger percentage of mothers have spontaneous miscarriages without ever realizing they're pregnant."

She patted Jake's arm. "The most important thing to focus on is that there's nothing to prevent you and your wife from trying to conceive again. Lots of women who have miscarriages go on to become pregnant again and deliver healthy, normal babies. This isn't the end of the world."

Jake nodded, still distraught at the loss of their baby but somewhat consoled by the doctor's words. "What about Catherine? Can I see her?"

"We gave her something to make her sleep, but you can go look in on her if you'd like."

Jake followed the doctor to Catherine's room and cautiously poked his head around the door. When he spotted his wife sleeping, he tiptoed to her side. Her face looked drawn, but to Jake she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He kissed her forehead. "I love you, honey. We'll get through this," he whispered. Then he turned and left.

When he got finally back to their home in Falls Church, it was dark. Even though he'd had nothing to eat since breakfast, Jake couldn't face the thought of food. Instead, he went out on their deck and slumped into an armchair to stare out into the gloom. Now that he knew Catherine was safe and in good hands, his own pain came back, along with a flood of memories.

Jake had wanted a child for a long time, actually even longer than Catherine had. She felt strongly that they should both establish their careers before starting a family. When she had finally agreed that the time was right, she had not gotten pregnant right away. Doctors had proclaimed them both healthy and fully capable of having children. Patience and lots of practice were the only prescriptions they gave the young couple. Now, after lightning had finally struck and Catherine had gotten pregnant, this had to happen!

As the night air grew colder, Jake began to think back to when he and Catherine had met. He'd just gotten his law degree from the University of Nebraska, but rather than tie himself down at a law firm Jake had decided to try out the political process. He had no interest in running for office himself but he wanted to work for a candidate and try to make a difference. The candidate he chose was an exciting up-and-comer from Oklahoma named Cap Pressman.

What impressed Jake about Pressman was the way the candidate mixed a populist agenda with political pragmatism. Cap seemed to have a knack for bringing political opponents together to fashion compromises that were acceptable to both sides. The fact that Cap was also young and from another prairie state was enough to seal the deal for Jake.

Pressman had just launched his bid for his party's nomination when Jake showed up at the Oklahoma City campaign headquarters to volunteer. When he asked a college student who was in charge, the young man jerked a thumb toward a glass-walled office in the middle of a confused jumble of workers, wall posters, telephone banks and other campaign paraphernalia. Standing in the middle of the office was a blonde-haired young woman talking emphatically on a telephone. Jake stared at her in wonder: she was no fashion model, but he thought she was the most attractive woman he'd ever seen.

He'd made his way over to the office and waited at the door until she got off the phone and spotted him standing there. "Well, who are you and what do you want?" she demanded.

"I'm Jake Phillips," he stammered, "and I'm here to volunteer."

"Good," she said, and snatched up a sheet of paper off her desk to hand to him. "Here's a list of 50 potential donors. Call them and ask them for the amount shown beside each name. And don't take no for an answer."

As he stood there staring at her in awe, she impatiently waved the sheet in his face. "Well, get going!"

He blushed, took the sheet from her and went over to the bank of telephones to begin making calls.

Later that night when things had calmed down, he returned to the office. The young woman had kicked off her shoes and was sitting with her feet propped up on the desk, obviously exhausted. Jake thought she looked even more attractive than his first glimpse of her. She felt his presence and gazed up at him in annoyance.

"Well, did you call all those donors?" she demanded.

"Yes," Jake confirmed, "and I got some good commitments out of them too."

The woman's face relaxed. "Good job," she said as though to a child. "If you can come back tomorrow we've got plenty more calls that need to be made."

Jake cleared his throat nervously. "Actually, I was hoping to do something a little more substantial for the campaign."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Well, what do you think you're qualified to do?"

"Well, I'm an attorney-at-law," he said.

The woman jumped to her feet and looked at Jake in embarrassment. "Omigod, why didn't you say so? We need legal counsel desperately. Come sit down and tell me about yourself."

And that was the start of their relationship. Catherine, who had started working with Pressman back when he'd been a U.S. representative from Oklahoma, began to take on a greater role in the campaign, and so did Jake. At first Catherine had insisted on keeping her relationship with Jake strictly professional. That had been a painful period for Jake.

But things had gotten better after Pressman came home to Oklahoma on a campaign swing and made a point of meeting "the attorney that Catherine's been talking about so much." With his folksy style and forceful personality, Pressman solidified Jake's support and increased his loyalty. Jake, in turn, must have made a favorable impression, because afterwards Catherine let Jake know how impressed Pressman had been with their meeting. After that, Catherine seemed to warm to Jake, and they began seeing each other outside of work almost immediately. They had wound up getting married shortly after the national election.

After the fact, the Pressman primary campaign had become a case study for political scientists. Coming from a state with meager clout in Congress, Pressman had little national recognition when he launched his candidacy. His showing in the Iowa and New Hampshire primaries was poor, and the pundits all expected him to withdraw from the race. But he did much better in the Colorado and Minnesota caucuses, and then began to pick up real momentum in the Southern states. It was nip and tuck for a while, but impressive wins in the New England states put him in the driver's seat. When he won the California primary handily, the nomination was his.

Pressman's strength in New England was no accident. At Yale Law School he had met and successfully wooed Savannah Hamilton, who was not only a descendent of Alexander Hamilton but also the daughter of Horatio Hamilton, the senior senator from Massachusetts. One observer called their marriage "less a love connection than a union of political dynasties." In any case, there was no doubt that the Senator's influence had played a major role in winning Pressman the nomination.

By contrast, the national election had been a walk-over. The opposition candidate had been Vice President in the last administration. A long-time politician, the Veep had lots of connections but only limited skills on the campaign trail. The photogenic Cap Pressman had won the electorate over with his humor, personal charm and indefatigable energy. The final electoral vote was the second most lopsided in history.

There was no question that Jake and Catherine would go to Washington to be part of the administration. Jake had even wondered if his wife might possibly be tapped for a cabinet position, but she wanted no part of that scene. Instead, she became one of Pressman's closest aides, someone he relied upon to work loyally behind the scenes so Pressman's star could shine ever brighter. It was a role she loved.

Jake chose not to enter the administration, opting instead for a job with a major D.C.-area law firm. "One of us has to make some money and live a normal life," he told Catherine with a smile. And though he didn't say it to her, by that time Jake had become a little leery of the absolute loyalty that Pressman expected of his people. Cap might believe in the art of compromise but he was not kindly disposed to dissenting opinions within his administration. Jake voted for Pressman's reelection to a second term, but he no longer idolized the man the way he once did.

Suddenly Jake shivered, which woke from his reverie. A glance at the thermometer on the back deck showed the temperature had fallen into the 40's while he'd been sitting there reminiscing. "Spring nights in Washington can still get pretty cold," he reminded himself as he went back inside. Soon after he climbed into bed, setting the alarm so he'd awaken early enough to get to Baltimore and Hopkins in plenty of time the next day.

When he got to Catherine's room the next morning, he found her awake and sitting up in bed, her face highlighted by the bright April sunlight. But her expression was downcast and her eyes revealed the emotional pain of the loss of the baby.

Jake rushed to her and clasped her tightly to him, but she returned his embrace weakly. Her lack of warmth was painful, but Jake reminded himself that whatever pain he was feeling must be that much greater for Catherine.

Trying to engage her, he pointed to the enormous arrangement of flowers that dominated one whole corner of the room. "Those are beautiful. Where did they come from?" he asked.

"The White House," was all Catherine replied, so Jake went over to look at the card. The flowers were indeed from the President and First Lady, both of whom had personally signed their best wishes for Catherine's speedy recovery.

When Jake had called the hospital to be sure he could bring Catherine home, the nurse had advised him to bring a change of clothing for his wife. Now, when Jake handed the bag to her, she asked him to step out of the room while she changed. Her request stung Jake, but he complied without complaint.

Stepping outside the room, he again encountered Catherine's OB/GYN making her rounds. "Your wife is recovering well," Doctor Liu reassured him, "but there are several things you need to understand. Losing a baby is not only emotionally but also physically traumatic for a woman. When she became pregnant, Catherine's body initiated a complex series of hormonal changes to prepare for gestation, delivery and breast-feeding. Those changes were halted precipitously by the miscarriage and must now begin to reverse themselves. That process, combined with all the emotions she is undergoing, will make this a challenging period for her. I would caution you to be as patient and supportive as possible over the next couple of weeks, because your wife will need it.

"The good news is that most women readjust physically pretty quickly. The emotional side, however, may take longer. In these cases, time is the best healer, and I'd expected her mood and general outlook to improve noticeably before too long. If they don't, there are medications I can prescribe that can facilitate her return to a more normal state of mind."

The doctor tiredly pushed her graying bangs back from her forehead and looked carefully at Jake. "Your wife really needs you. You're going to need to be patient and caring, now more than ever."

As he drove Catherine home, the doctor's words kept coming to him, and he vowed to do everything in his power to help his wife heal.

The days that followed were some of the most difficult Jake had ever experienced. He still had to deal with his own sorrow over the loss of their unborn child, but his natural optimism helped buoy him. He seized on the hope that he and Catherine might try again and, with any luck, be more fortunate the next time.

Catherine, however, was a different matter. She spent most of the next few days at home in her room, venturing out only when absolutely necessary, and when she did, she hardly spoke to Jake. After a week she claimed to have fully regained her health and insisted on returning to work. But emotionally it was a different story. She performed all her personal and occupational functions normally, but she showed virtually no emotion while doing so. She continued to spend long periods in solitary contemplation, and she shrank from his touch any time Jake tried to hold or caress her.

As his own sadness healed, Jake's concern for his wife continued to mount. It was as if the woman he loved had been replaced by a stranger: impenetrable, unemotional and without affection. He grew increasingly anxious and reached out to their friends, asking for their suggestions and recommendations. All of them agreed that Catherine was showing symptoms of depression; all reassured him that patience and loving care were his best courses of action.

The continued loss of closeness and emotional connection took an increasing toll on Jake, and after two months had passed the lack of sexual relations also began to weigh heavily. One night he gingerly broached the subject of resuming their sex life - to disastrous results. Catherine stared at him in shock and burst out, "If I never have sex with you again as long as I live, I'll die a happy woman!" Then she burst into tears and rushed off to their room, slamming the door and locking it.

On an intellectual level, Jake knew that she hadn't meant what she'd said, but her words still hurt him. As he lay on the couch that night unable to sleep, he couldn't help thinking about their sex life together. Catherine had never been a very passionate woman; Jake's libido had always been stronger than hers. He had found her lower level of desire disappointing, but he loved her so much that he had been willing to accept her as she was. If nothing else, when they did make love the experience for Jake was almost mind-blowing.

The other thing he'd discovered about Catherine was that, unlike the women he'd known before her, she wasn't very interested in foreplay. She didn't mind having her breasts kissed and caressed, but she didn't like him to kiss between her thighs or to finger her. Whenever he tried to slip his fingers into her, she'd gently push them away, saying "You've got something much better that was designed for that purpose." He certainly hadn't minded accommodating her, even though he found her response odd.