Kilcannon laughed aloud. “I take it you don’t approve.”
“Not a bit.” Caroline sighed. “Honestly, I want this job so much that, in a moment of weakness, I might make myself as big a mountebank as he was. But I don’t think it’s how public life should be—for anyone.
“For me, there’s an absolute prohibition against letting thechips fall where they may: my commitment to the chips.” Her voice softened. “I won’t undermine everything my daughter believes about her life. If that’s not enough, I promised her parents—because that’s what they are—I never would.”
Kilcannon considered her. “One could argue that your daughter deserves to know.”
Caroline found that his matter-of-factness made this most personal of discussions easier to bear. “One could, Mr. President. Selfishly, I wish she did: it’s very hard to love a child in secret, and pretend that she’s my niece. But I have no right to change that.” Caroline hesitated, then finished. “Not even to be Chief Justice.”
That would do it, Caroline supposed—it was late, the President was tired, and she was of no further use. The moment of renunciation felt even worse than she’d imagined.
“And yet,” Kilcannon said coolly, “you were willing to be nominated. Which means you were prepared to assume the risk that your daughter
would
find out—as long as you had satisfied your personal sense of honor, and we were willing to assume the risk.”
Caroline flushed. The analysis was sharp as a stiletto: in that moment, she grasped how tough Kilcannon could be, and how difficult to delude.
“True,” she admitted. “It’s foolish, perhaps even hypocritical. Perhaps I always
wanted
her to know. But more than that I wanted the job very badly.” Her voice became self-mocking. “Why
not
me, I kept asking myself. It isn’t fair. The country deserves my talents. Maybe no one but the President need ever know. All the way stations to self delusion.
“But the other truth is this, and I can’t leave without saying it—I’d have made a damned good Chief.”
Kilcannon cocked his head again. “And why is that?”
“For all the reasons Roger Bannon wasn’t. To Bannon, the people he affected weren’t real, but chess pieces in some mental game of his own invention.
“All his arid nonsense about deciding cases the way the founding fathers would have—some of them owned slaves, for Godsake, and their wives couldn’t vote. American politics in the eighteenth century wasn’t driven by mass media and the power of money. The social sciences, including those which explore the impact of parenting and poverty, barely existed.Modern medical science didn’t exist at all. All of which are central to how we view the law today.
“Were they alive, the men who framed the Constitution would understand that. It takes a mind like Roger Bannon’s to reduce them to flies in amber.”
“Bannon,” the President countered, “would say that law should be based on fixed principles. Or it’s nothing but the whims of the intellectually rootless.”
Caroline shook her head. “We’re judges, Mr. President. We’re supposed to apply the law, not make it up as we go along. But cases don’t occur in a vacuum.
“The Supreme Court in 1896 believed that segregation was fine—that ‘separate but equal’ was not only possible, but all we owed the descendants of slaves. By 1954, the Court could comprehend the withering effects of racial discrimination and therefore that the Constitution, properly interpreted, barred one group of citizens from using the law to degrade another.
“There’s a lesson in that. But some of Bannon’s allies on the Court seem to have forgotten it.”
“Well,” Kilcannon said, “now I can dispatch someone to remind them. It’s one of the pleasures of victory.”
“And I’m very glad of that, Mr. President. I’m just sorry it can’t be me.”
Kilcannon considered. “So am I,” he said at last. “I’ve even
“Not a bit.” Caroline sighed. “Honestly, I want this job so much that, in a moment of weakness, I might make myself as big a mountebank as he was. But I don’t think it’s how public life should be—for anyone.
“For me, there’s an absolute prohibition against letting thechips fall where they may: my commitment to the chips.” Her voice softened. “I won’t undermine everything my daughter believes about her life. If that’s not enough, I promised her parents—because that’s what they are—I never would.”
Kilcannon considered her. “One could argue that your daughter deserves to know.”
Caroline found that his matter-of-factness made this most personal of discussions easier to bear. “One could, Mr. President. Selfishly, I wish she did: it’s very hard to love a child in secret, and pretend that she’s my niece. But I have no right to change that.” Caroline hesitated, then finished. “Not even to be Chief Justice.”
That would do it, Caroline supposed—it was late, the President was tired, and she was of no further use. The moment of renunciation felt even worse than she’d imagined.
“And yet,” Kilcannon said coolly, “you were willing to be nominated. Which means you were prepared to assume the risk that your daughter
would
find out—as long as you had satisfied your personal sense of honor, and we were willing to assume the risk.”
Caroline flushed. The analysis was sharp as a stiletto: in that moment, she grasped how tough Kilcannon could be, and how difficult to delude.
“True,” she admitted. “It’s foolish, perhaps even hypocritical. Perhaps I always
wanted
her to know. But more than that I wanted the job very badly.” Her voice became self-mocking. “Why
not
me, I kept asking myself. It isn’t fair. The country deserves my talents. Maybe no one but the President need ever know. All the way stations to self delusion.
“But the other truth is this, and I can’t leave without saying it—I’d have made a damned good Chief.”
Kilcannon cocked his head again. “And why is that?”
“For all the reasons Roger Bannon wasn’t. To Bannon, the people he affected weren’t real, but chess pieces in some mental game of his own invention.
“All his arid nonsense about deciding cases the way the founding fathers would have—some of them owned slaves, for Godsake, and their wives couldn’t vote. American politics in the eighteenth century wasn’t driven by mass media and the power of money. The social sciences, including those which explore the impact of parenting and poverty, barely existed.Modern medical science didn’t exist at all. All of which are central to how we view the law today.
“Were they alive, the men who framed the Constitution would understand that. It takes a mind like Roger Bannon’s to reduce them to flies in amber.”
“Bannon,” the President countered, “would say that law should be based on fixed principles. Or it’s nothing but the whims of the intellectually rootless.”
Caroline shook her head. “We’re judges, Mr. President. We’re supposed to apply the law, not make it up as we go along. But cases don’t occur in a vacuum.
“The Supreme Court in 1896 believed that segregation was fine—that ‘separate but equal’ was not only possible, but all we owed the descendants of slaves. By 1954, the Court could comprehend the withering effects of racial discrimination and therefore that the Constitution, properly interpreted, barred one group of citizens from using the law to degrade another.
“There’s a lesson in that. But some of Bannon’s allies on the Court seem to have forgotten it.”
“Well,” Kilcannon said, “now I can dispatch someone to remind them. It’s one of the pleasures of victory.”
“And I’m very glad of that, Mr. President. I’m just sorry it can’t be me.”
Kilcannon considered. “So am I,” he said at last. “I’ve even
Similar Books
