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"Yes," said Cecily, and then hung up.
"Wow," said Mark. "You really are angry about this."
Cecily looked toward the doorway to the living room and saw all four of the older children there, watching her. "None of you has the right security clearance to be listening to a conversation between the White House chief of staff and the 'President's most-trusted adviser.'"
"This quarantine," said Mark. "If refugees get on boats, like the boat people after the Vietnam War or the Cubans who fled to Florida, is he really going to have the Navy blow them up?"
"Yes," said Cecily. "But they'll give warnings and humanitarian aid first, and if they turn back toward Africa our ships will escort them safely home."
"It doesn't sound very Christian," said Mark. Then he went upstairs.
Nick shrugged. "I guess Mark doesn't get it. This is the real world, not Mass." Then Nick headed upstairs.
Lettie and Annie stayed in the doorway, looking at her. "I know what Jesus would do," said Annie.
"No you don't," said Lettie.
"Absolutely I do too," said Annie. "He always healed the sick."
"Because he could," said Lettie. "He could do miracles."
"Our scientists are working as fast as they can on a vaccine and a cure," said Cecily.
"And meanwhile we're telling Africans to take a couple of Advils and call us in the morning?" said Lettie, in her snottiest voice.
Cecily sat down at the kitchen table. "It must be terrible over there. In Africa."
"It's always terrible," said Lettie. "Malaria. Sleeping sickness. And they don't even have clothes."
"They have clothes, Lettie," said Cecily.
"I've seen the pictures. They run around naked and their jugs hang down to here."
"Most Africans wear clothing like ours, only cooler," said Cecily. "Don't confuse Annie."
"I'm not confused," said Annie. "Remember, Lettie's been my big sister my whole life."
"While I had a couple of blissful years without Annie," said Lettie.
"Go away, children," said Cecily. "Mommy's thinking."
"Does that mean dinner's going to be late?" asked Lettie.
"Yes," said Cecily. "Either late or pizza."
"I vote Donato's," said Annie.
"Papa John's," said Lettie.
"Go away or I'll whip up a batch of oatmeal Jell-O."
"They don't have that flavor," said Lettie.
"I'll use orange Jell-O and put raw oats in it. Lots of fiber and horse hooves," said Cecily. "And since you refuse to go away, I'm going upstairs to my room so I can lock the door and get some thinking done."
They followed her up the stairs naming even-more-disgusting Jell-O flavors; Cecily didn't have the heart to tell them that some of them were real, at least according to stories about church suppers from her Protestant friends. Like carrots in orange Jell-O. And mini-marshmallows in lime. But Lettie topped them all with her suggestion of "athlete's foot in licorice Jell-O." Cecily was laughing in spite of herself as she closed the door and locked it.
She wasn't thinking about the President's speech anymore. She was thinking about what Nick had said. "This is the real world, not Mass."
