what are you doing?” she asked.
“Uhh...” Are you kidding me? “Well, I am writing my own…” Was there whiskey in that?
April tilted her head in confusion, her hair gently falling off her shoulder. “Your own…?” she prompted.
“Uhh...” He had never seen a woman who looked like her—drink like that. “My own Constitution.”
She now looked even more confused.
“The idea is to create the perfect form of government. One that will last.”
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Good luck with that. ”
John smiled, while taking another quick peek.
*
Dressed in her blue nightgown with her red hair pulled back, Emma Manning leaned against the doorframe of her newborn’s room, watching her son sleep in his crib.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” she said when her husband walked up behind her, affectionately putting his arms around her waist.
He gently placed his chin on her shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Emma turned to look at him, wondering. She silently followed Tony down the hall, where he closed his office door behind them.
Emma stood reserved with her arms wrapped in her nightgown.
Tony opened the top desk drawer. “Remember that day I was held hostage?”
The question required no answer.
“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone.” He removed a pamphlet from a manila folder. “But I have to.”
His wife stood perplexed.
“We were not taken hostage by Muslim terrorists,” he explained, walking towards Emma. Her eyes followed him across the room. “We weren’t even taken hostage. We were used as publicity tools so this information could get global attention.”
He handed her the pamphlet.
“They worked for MI-6,” he gestured towards the document which had already captured his wife’s attention. “That is what our government really does.”
Emma began to tear up as the unknown mounted in her mind. What does this mean? The shock forced her mute. Much of what the pamphlet highlighted were well-known events, which now took on new meaning.
“When the military came in and opened fire they didn’t care who they hit.” Tony pulled up a chair for Emma to sit. “If we would have been sitting anywhere but where we were, we would have been killed instantly. I think the only thing that saved us was Cunnington. He got free and called his wife. They couldn’t kill us with her on the other line, but I feel they wanted to.”
Emma continued to study the pamphlet while listening to her husband’s confession, covering her mouth with her free hand.
“When the shooting stopped, some of the captain’s men were still alive. They were taken away. All the dead were put into bags. It happened in a matter of seconds.”
“I never asked you... I figured you would talk when you were ready,” Emma declared, regretting what she now knew.
Tony went on as though he didn’t hear her. “The four of us sat there terrified. We feared our military more than our capturers. Not long after the shooting a man came in and told us to follow him. We walked to a room where they gave us information and told us to memorize it. We stayed in that room until the press conference.”
“Do they know you have this?” Emma asked, the pamphlet shaking in her nervous hands.
“No,” he assured her. “The originals were destroyed. That is a replica.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Emma looked up in fear of the answer.
“I believe this country has a right to know. The government told us to stay quiet. This is why the other guys are stepping down. They can’t trust themselves.”
Emma raised her hand as if to say, ‘stop!’ She handed Tony the pamphlet. What she was about to tell her husband would go against her better judgment and contradict all she believed in—specifically love of country. But ultimately, she saw the significance. Fighting back intense urges to say something completely different, she managed to utter, “God help us.”
*
The full winter moon lit up the
“Uhh...” Are you kidding me? “Well, I am writing my own…” Was there whiskey in that?
April tilted her head in confusion, her hair gently falling off her shoulder. “Your own…?” she prompted.
“Uhh...” He had never seen a woman who looked like her—drink like that. “My own Constitution.”
She now looked even more confused.
“The idea is to create the perfect form of government. One that will last.”
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Good luck with that. ”
John smiled, while taking another quick peek.
*
Dressed in her blue nightgown with her red hair pulled back, Emma Manning leaned against the doorframe of her newborn’s room, watching her son sleep in his crib.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” she said when her husband walked up behind her, affectionately putting his arms around her waist.
He gently placed his chin on her shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Emma turned to look at him, wondering. She silently followed Tony down the hall, where he closed his office door behind them.
Emma stood reserved with her arms wrapped in her nightgown.
Tony opened the top desk drawer. “Remember that day I was held hostage?”
The question required no answer.
“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone.” He removed a pamphlet from a manila folder. “But I have to.”
His wife stood perplexed.
“We were not taken hostage by Muslim terrorists,” he explained, walking towards Emma. Her eyes followed him across the room. “We weren’t even taken hostage. We were used as publicity tools so this information could get global attention.”
He handed her the pamphlet.
“They worked for MI-6,” he gestured towards the document which had already captured his wife’s attention. “That is what our government really does.”
Emma began to tear up as the unknown mounted in her mind. What does this mean? The shock forced her mute. Much of what the pamphlet highlighted were well-known events, which now took on new meaning.
“When the military came in and opened fire they didn’t care who they hit.” Tony pulled up a chair for Emma to sit. “If we would have been sitting anywhere but where we were, we would have been killed instantly. I think the only thing that saved us was Cunnington. He got free and called his wife. They couldn’t kill us with her on the other line, but I feel they wanted to.”
Emma continued to study the pamphlet while listening to her husband’s confession, covering her mouth with her free hand.
“When the shooting stopped, some of the captain’s men were still alive. They were taken away. All the dead were put into bags. It happened in a matter of seconds.”
“I never asked you... I figured you would talk when you were ready,” Emma declared, regretting what she now knew.
Tony went on as though he didn’t hear her. “The four of us sat there terrified. We feared our military more than our capturers. Not long after the shooting a man came in and told us to follow him. We walked to a room where they gave us information and told us to memorize it. We stayed in that room until the press conference.”
“Do they know you have this?” Emma asked, the pamphlet shaking in her nervous hands.
“No,” he assured her. “The originals were destroyed. That is a replica.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Emma looked up in fear of the answer.
“I believe this country has a right to know. The government told us to stay quiet. This is why the other guys are stepping down. They can’t trust themselves.”
Emma raised her hand as if to say, ‘stop!’ She handed Tony the pamphlet. What she was about to tell her husband would go against her better judgment and contradict all she believed in—specifically love of country. But ultimately, she saw the significance. Fighting back intense urges to say something completely different, she managed to utter, “God help us.”
*
The full winter moon lit up the
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