I slammed on the brakes. First the Beltway traffic, then construction on the Interstate, and now gridlock! A rain-induced fender-bender blocked the highway.

     Amanda Prescott, I said aloud, you’re never going to escape from Washington!

     In all directions there was not an inch for maneuvering, and just when I had to get away. 

     Thanks to the quirks of government funding, Senator Shellenberger’s project and my promotion were delayed. Until my advanced security clearance came through, I was in limbo, so he suggested an attractive interim alternative.

     “Why don’t you take a leave of absence, get a few months of R and R? Goodness knows, you can use it. As soon as the okay comes through, we’ll get you right back on board. This is an opportunity to visit your friend in Florida, the harpist.”

     “Meg, you mean,” I said. “She struggled with her career after graduating from the conservatory, but now she has a steady gig playing at one of those elegant hotels on Palm Beach and she’s teaching on the side. It’s not the National Symphony, but I gather it pays her bills and she loves her surroundings. I confess that you tempt me.”

     “The Select Committee on Intelligence needs you, but the government moves like a turtle crawling backwards,” he said. “It could be the start of the new fiscal year in October before it all comes together. Take a break while you can.”

     I sighed. “If I didn’t have to worry about the apartment rent and upkeep of my car, I’d jump at the chance to loll on the beach.”

     “Give up your apartment, put everything in storage, and hit the road,” he said. “Since you’ll be at a higher salary level, you can shop around when you get back for a place that suits you better.”

     “You have a way with words. No wonder you’ve been elected to three consecutive terms.”

     He laughed. “If it weren’t for my staff, I’d be a poor excuse of a Senator. But think about it Amanda. I’m not at liberty to discuss the project, but once the Committee commits to it, our office will be working around the clock. Take advantage of the lull.”

     I thought about it…very briefly. When I rang up Meg, she almost sounded as if she expected my call.

     “We’ll have a spectacular time, Amanda,” she promised. “The gorgeous beach and lots of gentlemen about town will take your mind off the past.”

     I stiffened. “I’m coming to see you, Meg, not to become entangled with a man. It would be hard to date again so soon.”

     “Soon! It’s been nearly a year, long past a respectable mourning period. You owe it to  yourself to get out.”
‘That’s just the problem.” I spoke softly to avoid being overheard. “You’re the only one who knows I feel guilty because I honestly wasn’t in love with Craig and didn’t have the courage to break off with him. Dating at this point would make me feel even worse.”

     “You handled the situation beautifully, Amanda. He died believing you cared. That was your greatest gift to him. With his parent gone, you were all he had. Still, considering how he talked you out of your career, you owe his memory nothing more.”

     “That’s unkind, Meg.”

     “It’s not unkind; it’s the truth. If your boss is offering you a reprieve for a few months, you should take him up on it.”

     I blinked back a tear. From the day doctors confirmed that an advanced tumor caused Craig’s headaches, I suppressed my emotions. Even before our engagement was announced, he blamed his headaches on the tension before his bar exams, never knowing that the disease was on the warpath like an Army tank mowing down everything in its wake.

     Everyone said I held up bravely throughout those final days when Craig became a vegetable. In the end, he did not recognize me. 

     Before he entered the picture, I had earned a performance degree from Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore and high praise as a finalist in several prestigious competitions, but my desire to become a concert pianist began drifting away the night of my recital at Strathmore Hall in Bethesda.

     Throughout the evening, I had the gnawing sensation that my future was taking a curious detour. Afterward, when Craig stepped forward from the sea of smiling faces to introduce himself and praise my interpretation of a Debussy piece, I accepted his presence as the catalyst.

     During the following days, he pursued me so aggressively that I succumbed to his proposal without considering how marriage to a young lawyer would repave my life. Always practical, he believed our marriage would suffer from the lengthy absences my concert career could entail, but he supported my job on the Hill because the salary, modest though it was, surpassed my infrequent performance fees. 

     Like most aspiring musicians, I needed that day job, a highly responsible position as a legislative aide to Aaron Shellenberger, the senior Senator from Florida, who utilized my skills in math and cryptography, adjuncts of musical ability, in projects assigned by his CIA affiliates. As Craig’s condition worsened, my salary was essential; dreams of conquering international audiences evaporated for good when I sold my piano to help cover some of his enormous expenses.

     Once the funeral was past, I was jolted into restringing my life for the second time in as many years. Resigned to losing both Craig and music, I knuckled down to my job on the Hill, hoping it would help me shed invisible chains, but at this moment, I was shackled in their grip. Was it only yesterday when I boasted to the office staff that nothing could keep me in town except an invitation to perform at the White House? I hadn’t counted on Washington’s snarled roadways. 

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