Rebekah's Story

Ever since she was a teenager, Rebekah Edwards has always wanted one thing. She's hoped for it, wished for it, prayed for it. Yet with each passing year she seems no closer to getting her wish: A daughter she can cradle in her arms, coo over, and play with. Her husband, her mother, the congregation--they all tell her not to worry, that it's God's will.

Rebekah knows better.

From her perch on the porch of her husband's mansion, she looks out at the sprawling stretch of lawn in front of her--every inch of it theirs. When he dies, this will be her inheritance. But the only legacy she's truly interested is not plots of land, a womb in her belly. Yet as it is, she has to settle with being the wife of one of the most powerful men in the Southern Christian Republic.

As spouse of Atlanta's pious-yet-moderate Christian mayor, she's no stranger to political intrigue. Every, irregularity, dirty trick and **** attempt does not pass without her laying eyes on them. Sometimes it's the President's doing, sometimes it's the military's. Yet she continues to stand behind her husband. She has to--he's the bulwark between the citizenry and the fundamentalists itching to take over the city and make it their own. Besides, if the polling's correct he's a shoe-in for the Presidency in four years.

But she can only stand by her man so much. Her biological clock is ticking, and as thirty-five slides into thirty-six she knows there is only so much time until her window closes forever.

Smoothing out the ruffles in her floral print dress, she sips from her tea cup and thinks about what could've been--and what may still be. Rumor has it that the trade in surrogates is going strong across the admittedly confusing borders with the former Northeastern states. Having a cyborg as a child doesn't exactly sit well with her own strict beliefs, but God taught her to love all His creation so why should it matter? Crossing the demilitarized zone into D.C. would not be easy. Neither would be taking chances with the rapidly devolving hellhole that is Tennessee and Kentucky--but the alternative is just as unpleasant.

"The mayor requests your presence." A spindly assistant interrupts her thinking.

"Thank you." She puts her cup down.

Gathering her flowing auburn hair into a bun, she follows the young woman up the steps towards his office on the top floor. Rays of sunlight stream through bay windows. It strikes her as unusual for him to call to her this early in the morning, but as her mother taught her, there is a reason for everything.

Her husband waves her into the room as he cradles the phone with his other hand. His voice is short and clipped--perhaps talking with an ambassador or head of state? Rebekah's eyes gaze at the wall of photos behind him, snapshots of her Kennedyesque husband standing shoulder to shoulder with kings, queens, prime ministers...

Heads of state.

"Thank you, sultan." He nods assuredly. "I'll pass that along. Please give my
regards to the misses."

Click.

"That was the Sheikh of Oman. He's flying in next month."

"The conference?"

"Yes." He nods . "Everyone is going to be there .The Iranians, the Israelis..."

"Sounds like a big deal."

"It is." He fishes out a cigar from a nearby drawer. "Cyberorganisms are the new Internet."

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Honey, it's just one a day. No big deal."

"No big deal?" Rebekah puts her hands on her hips. "Remember what happened to your father?"

"You got a point." He puts it out.

"Charles." Her voice is tinged with concerns. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"It's not about the kids again?"

Rebekah nods her head.

"Honey, remember the last time you had a miscarriage? You cried for four days."
"I know, but I just can't get the image of that girl out of my mind. Those long blonde curls..."

"You need to stop living in the past." He quickly changes the subject. "By the way, the President and First Lady are expecting us at the state dinner next week."

"You mean our President?"

"Yeah." Charles slips his spectacles on. "You must have made quite an impression on them."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea. All those soldiers...I'd hate to see anything happen. Remember when the army tried to poison you?"

"It's okay." Charles coos. "As long as we have God on our side, we'll be fine."

"But what if we aren't?"

"God willing, I hope not."

"I guess I'll be seeing you later this evening?"

"I'll be seeing you."

"Charles?"Rebekah spins around as she leaves the room.

"What?"

"I love you." She blows a kiss.

"I love you too."

As she walks away, she wonders if being a politician's spouse is worth it.