Gwendy's Magic Feather

17

“I’M SURE GONNA MISS your smiling face these next few weeks, Congresswoman.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Gwendy says, stopping at the security desk. She reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a small box covered in snowman wrapping paper. She hands it across the barrier to the barrel-chested guard. “Merry Christmas, Harold.”

Harold’s mouth drops open. He slowly reaches out and takes the gift. “You got me… this is really for me?”

Gwendy smiles and nods her head. “Of course. I would never forget my favorite head of security.”

He looks at her in confusion. “Head of—?” And then he grins and those gold teeth of his wink at her in the fluorescent lights. “Oh, you’re joking with me.”

“Open your present, silly man.”

His meaty fingers attack the wrapping paper and uncover a shiny black box with Bulova printed in gold lettering across the top of it. He opens the box and looks up in disbelief. “You bought me a watch?”

“I saw you admiring Congressman Anderson’s last week,” Gwendy says. “I thought you deserved one of your own.”

Harold opens his mouth but no words come out. Gwendy is surprised to see that the guard’s eyes have gone shiny and his chin is trembling. “I… this is the nicest present anyone has ever given me,” he finally says. “Thank you.”

For the first time today, Gwendy feels like maybe everything will be okay. “You’re very welcome, Harold. I hope you and your family have a wonderful Christmas.” She pats his arm affectionately and turns to leave.

“Not so fast,” Harold says, raising a hand. He ducks behind the desk and comes back up with a wrapped gift of his own. He hands it to Gwendy.

She looks at him in surprise, and then reads the gift tag: To Congresswoman Gwendy Peterson; From Harold & Beth. “Thank you,” she says, genuinely touched. “Both of you.” She opens the present. It’s a thick hardcover book with a bright orange dust jacket. She turns it over so she can see the front cover—and the room shifts, up, down, and up again, like she just sat down on a teeter-totter at the playground.

“You okay, Congresswoman?” Harold asks. “You already have a copy?”

“No, no,” Gwendy says, holding up the book. “I’ve never read it, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Oh, good,” he says, relieved. “I can barely make heads or tails of the jacket copy, but my wife read it and said it was fascinating.”

Gwendy forces a smile on her face. “Thank you again, Harold. It really is a lovely surprise.”

“Thank you again, Congresswoman Peterson. You shouldn’t have, but I’m sure glad you did.” He bursts out laughing.

Gwendy slips the book inside her leather tote and heads for the elevator. On the ride down, she takes another peek at the cover, just to make sure she’s not losing her mind.

She’s not.

The book Harold gave her is Gravity’s Rainbow. It’s the same novel Richard Farris was reading on the bench in Castle View twenty-five years earlier—on the day he first gave Gwendy the button box.