Free Power Curve by Richard Herman Page B

envied the lieutenant colonel for being in the thick of it.
     
    The lights in the bedroom were still on when Bender finally arrived at his quarters on Bolling Air Force Base. He stopped in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A bottle of the German beer he loved was standing front and center, capped with an upside-down glass. He smiled.Nancy was sending him a signal. He opened the beer and headed upstairs.
    Nancy Bender was curled up in bed reading a case book. As usual, a bare leg was sticking out from under the blanket, and her reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She was a small, dark-haired woman, possessing enormous brown eyes and unlimited energy. A bemused look lit her eyes as he shed his uniform coat and tie, flopped out in an easy chair, and poured the beer into the glass. It was a ritual that never changed. “A bad day?” she asked.
    “A nothing day,” Bender answered. He took a drink and savored the taste. “I spent the day typing up the letter and answering a few inane questions from Shaw’s staff, at least what I thought were inane questions. Then the call from the Pentagon. I spent all of five minutes with the Joint Chiefs and then had to hang around for three hours in case they wanted a follow-up.” He took a sip of beer. “What’s the book?”
    “Case studies on counseling in emergency trauma centers,” she answered. She looked at him, her dark eyes filled with concern. “I’m only a volunteer and have to handle cases a professional counselor could spend a year on. I get maybe thirty minutes with a shattered mother or wife and send them on their way. It’s not right.” Somehow, in the midst of their constant moves, Nancy had earned a B.A. and then completed a master’s degree in psychology. But she hadn’t stopped there and had become a licensed clinical social worker when they were stationed in California. Now she was doing volunteer work in an emergency room in the heart of Washington’s inner city.
    “The budget ax is falling everywhere,” he said.
    Nancy rightly suspected that the crisis that had called him to the Pentagon was a budget cut. “The things we do to each other,” she murmured. Then, more brightly, “Did you submit your letter?”
    “It’s on Shaw’s desk. But the chairman wants me to pull it.”
    A concerned look spread across Nancy’s face. She knew her husband too well and was afraid the enforced period of inactivity in the White House would drive him crazy.“Why the change? I thought they wanted you out of there?”
    “So did I,” Bender said. “It looks like I won’t be getting a new assignment after all. I don’t know what the chairman expects me to do. There are no ground rules over there, only Shaw. I’m not a politician and spinning my wheels, not accomplishing a thing. If I can’t get out of there fairly soon and do something productive, we might as well retire.” His eyes drew into a humorous squint. “ Then you can get a job and support me in the manner you’ve been accustomed to for the last twenty-eight years.”
    “Don’t count on it. You were the one who married a child bride.” She rolled over and laid the book on the nightstand. The covers pulled up and he could see her bare back. She picked up a letter and tossed it to him. “From Laurie,” she said.
    He leaned back in the chair and read the letter, slowly sipping his beer. Occasionally, a smile would flit across his face as he relaxed. He was back with Nancy, and the cares of the White House were in a pigeonhole for a few hours. He slowly folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope before dropping it on the table beside his chair. “Do you think she’ll marry him?”
    “In her own good time,” Nancy answered. She eyed the letter. “Must you always be so neat?” No answer. “I’m convinced there’s a bit of the anal compulsive in you.”
    “I wouldn’t know about that. You’re the shrink.”
    “Well, if you’re going to retire and become a kept