“Let him know what?” inquired Nat.
Su Ling tore the piece of paper off the pad and passed it across to her husband. “It was Tom. He wanted you to know the election result.” Su Ling handed over the piece of paper. All she had written on it were the figures “69/31.”
“Yes, but who got sixty-nine percent?” asked Nat.
“The next governor of Connecticut,” she replied.
Luke’s funeral was, at the principal’s request, held in Taft School’s chapel. He explained that so many pupils had wanted to be present. It was only after his death that Nat and Su Ling became aware just how popular their son had been. The service was simple, and the choir of which he was so proud to be a member sang William Blake’s “Jerusalem” and Cole Porter’s “Ain’t Misbehavin’.” Kathy read one of the lessons, and dear old Thomo another, while the principal delivered the address.
Mr. Henderson spoke of a shy, unassuming youth, liked and admired by all. He reminded those present of Luke’s remarkable performance as Romeo, and how he had learned only that morning that Luke had been offered a place at Princeton.
The coffin was borne out of the chapel by boys and girls from the ninth grade who had performed with him in the school play. Nat learned so much about Luke that day that he felt guilty he hadn’t known what an impact his son had made on his contemporaries.
At the end of the service, Nat and Su Ling attended the tea party given in the principal’s house for Luke’s closest friends. It was packed to overflowing, but then as Mr. Henderson explained to Su Ling, everyone thought they were a close friend of Luke’s. “What a gift,” he remarked simply.
The headboy presented Su Ling with a book of photographs and short essays composed by his fellow pupils. Later, whenever Nat felt low, he would turn a page, read an entry and glance at a photograph, but there was one he kept returning to again and again: Luke was the only boy ever to speak to me who never once mentioned my turban or my color. He simply didn’t see them. I had looked forward to him being a friend for the rest of my life. Malik Singh (16).
As they left the principal’s house, Nat spotted Kathy sitting alone in the garden, her head bowed. Su Ling walked across and sat down beside her. She put an arm around Kathy and tried to comfort her. “He loved you very much,” Su Ling said.
Kathy raised her head, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I never told him I loved him.”
45
“I can’t do it,” said Fletcher.
“Why not?” asked Annie.
“I can think of a hundred reasons.”
“Or are they a hundred excuses?”
“Defend the man I’m trying to defeat,” said Fletcher, ignoring her comment.
“Without fear or favor,” quoted Annie.
“Then how would you expect me to conduct the election?”
“That will be the easy part.” She paused. “Either way.”
“Either way?” repeated Fletcher.
“Yes. Because if he’s guilty, he won’t even be the Republican candidate.”
“And if he’s innocent?”
“Then you’ll rightly be praised for setting him free.”
“That’s neither practical nor sensible.”
“Two more excuses.”
“Why are you on his side?” asked Fletcher.
“I’m not,” insisted Annie. “I am, to quote Professor Abrahams, on the side of justice.”
Fletcher was silent for some time. “I wonder what he would have done faced with the same dilemma?”
“You know very well what he would have done…but some people will forget those standards within moments of leaving this university…”