Dulles International Airport
Washington, D.C.
June
Sometime after 10:00 PM, Pug drove Rachel to Dulles International Airport to meet her mother’s plane. The president’s visit to the Austin household had been difficult, to say the least, but Pug recognized in President Snow the gentle hand of a compassionate man, belying the weight of his office. Mrs. Austin was a remarkable woman, her strength resilient, her expression of gratitude to the president sincere. Despite the many other occasions when Pug had met her, his admiration for the woman took on a new dimension during the president’s visit. Shortly before they had left, Christine Austin’s sister had arrived to fill the absence of family. With no children of their own, Rachel had been concerned that the older woman would be alone for the night and had offered to stay, but Mrs. Austin had declined, grateful that Rachel’s mother would be coming to visit tomorrow.
As they waited near the luggage carousel at Dulles, Pug held Rachel close, his arm around her shoulder.
“These are not the circumstances that I envisioned for us to become friends, Rachel. I’m truly sorry for this loss and the memories it fosters.”
Rachel raised her hand to her shoulder, covering Pug’s hand. “The circumstances are not important, Pug. I’m grateful you were with me. Uncle Bill was like a father to me and I know he was fond of you, trusted you, and that his feelings were reciprocated. It’s your loss, too. I feel numb, actually. I might-”
Suddenly, Rachel leaned to the right, scanning the passengers coming down the escalator. “There she is,” she said, quickly walking forward and embracing her mother as she stepped away from the moving throng of people. Pug remained quietly behind. After a few moments of tears and hugging, they approached him together.
“Mom, this is General Pug Connor. Pug worked with Uncle Bill for the past several years. They became very close.”
Mrs. Thompson extended her hand and showed the briefest hint of a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, General. Thank you for meeting me.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. Your luggage will be on carousel eight. I already have a trolley.”
“I only brought one bag. I have some of my things at Rachel’s home.” She turned to Rachel as they walked toward the luggage carousel. “Do you know when the funeral will be held?”
“Yes, Mom. Friday morning at Arlington. Christine did not want any public ceremony, but agreed to the president’s request that Bill be buried in the national cemetery. I have us both booked back to Kansas City on Friday night.”
Mrs. Thompson nodded. “That’s my bag, General,” she said, pointing to a light gray case which Pug retrieved.
Thirty minutes later, Pug placed the suitcase just inside the front door of Rachel’s home.
“Rachel, if I can be of any assistance over the next several days, please phone. I’ve called a meeting of my team tomorrow morning to discuss several items, but mostly to deal with our new reporting line to the president’s office. Please, do call if I can help.”
Rachel looked up at Pug for several seconds, then stepped close to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She then kissed him lightly on the cheek, pulled back, and looked into his eyes. “You’ve already been helpful, Pug, perhaps more than you know. Thank you.”
“If I don’t see you beforehand, I hope to see you at the funeral on Friday,” Pug said.
“I’ll arrange it, Pug. My staff will organize seats for us.”
“Good night, Rachel.”