A Form of Godliness by Shane Johnson

Author:Shane Johnson [Johnson, Shane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-55184-9
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2004-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Matthew Bridger sat at his desk, nibbling from a plate of ham, eggs, and toast as he worked to find ways to minimize the oil crisis.

The reserve isn’t going to last long enough, he realized. Not at this consumption rate—

“We’re going to have to ration before the end of January,” he whispered to himself. “Gas lines…”

An hour passed. He sorted through the documents that littered his desk, dealing with one concern after another, all of which required his immediate attention.

“Never lets up,” he whispered. “But then, I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.”

Steadily, the files and printouts moved from one stack to another, gaining some semblance of order. Finally, he came to a report on Life Quality’s subsidy funding.

He paused and prayed.

Please—there has to be a way to end this.

“Were no better than they are,” he muttered, scanning the figures before tossing the file aside. “We actually pay for it, the wholesale slaughter of—”

“Are we going to get to see you at all today?” a voice asked from across the room. He looked up to see his wife, wearing her holiday finest, entering from the secretary’s office. “You’re supposed to come for a photo session by the tree…”

“I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “I’m a bit preoccupied.”

Susan Bridger walked up and leaned over him, rubbing his shoulder. “You work too hard, Matt. I couldn’t even get you to spend any time at the breakfast table.” She looked at the food on his half-empty plate. “Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“No, I’ll get to it. I’m just…”

“I know. The weight of the world. Well, the world can wait.” She smiled. “You were in here until four in the morning. An hour won’t make any difference, not on Christmas. Jody’s brought the grandkids, and they’re up in the Blue Room playing with their new toys. Please come spend a little time with them.”

“I suppose an hour won’t hurt,” he conceded, rising from his chair. “You know, you should run for office. You can be very persuasive.”

“Only where you’re concerned,” she teased.

They took their coats, left his office, and headed outside. “Snow,” the president said with some surprise. “I had no idea.”

“See there, you need to poke your head out a bit more often. Maybe if you see your shadow, the problems will go away.”

“If only.”

They walked along the colonnade, past the Rose Garden, and into the mansion, where family waited. Upstairs, the White House Christmas tree stood at the center of the Blue Room, towering eighteen feet, almost reaching the ceiling. Its lush branches, covered with crystal snowflakes, glass icicles, silver and gold glass balls, and white glass pine cones, sparkled in the rooms warm light. At its base, the floor was littered with a few opened packages and discarded wrapping paper, amid which three small children played, oblivious of the rooms historical significance. The mantel and lower shelves, well within range of a tossed ball, already had been cleared of breakables by the ever-cautious first lady.

“Well, there you are,” said Jody Bridger Heaton, walking up to her father.

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