Madame President Page 10

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m in a peculiar position,” I say. “I either have to admit I was wrong, or admit to a lobotomy I don’t remember.”

  We both laugh. “Then there are times, I feel as if they went on and took the entire thing while they were in there,” I say.

  “No,” he says. “I don’t think they took anything out. You have somehow managed to do both have a brain and run for office.”

  A feeling of warmth washes over me at his words. I take a sip of the water at my side to cool down a bit and see he’s still watching me with those dark eyes of his. Today they once again seem to have the ability to look past my mask and into my soul.

  “Thank you,” I say belatedly in reply to his earlier statement. “You never did answer my question.”

  “Tired of talking about yourself?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  There’s no reason to lie. “Yes.”

  “You asked how my sister is at a ballet,” he poses it as a statement, so there’s no need for me to respond. “She’s really good. I say that knowing I’m her brother and it’s hard for me to be objective, but she’s really good.”

  “I believe you,” I say. I want to add that I’d love to see her dance, but I don’t. Navin and I aren’t in any sort of relationship and running off with the most well known news-broadcaster in the country to watch his thirteen-year-old sister dance wasn’t something I could do.

  “Something you just thought made you sad,” Navin says. “What was it?”

  I try to swallow my shock at his words because no one, and by no one, I mean not one person, has ever been able to read my emotions the way he can. That he can do so with such ease, shakes me to the core. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  It’s a lie and not a very good one. If he’s able to tell when a thought makes me sad, no doubt he can likewise tell when I lie. And wasn’t he the one who brought up how my accent became more pronounced when I grew nervous? I’m suddenly aware it is a very bad idea for me to be near Navin for anything other than the briefest of moments. It’s enough he sees past my mask, but for him to be in the media makes it one thousand times worse.

  I feel his presence near me, even with him sitting across the table. Being this close together and talking about the past, makes our past together so much more real. Though it’s always there between us, today it seems more vivid. My skin heats as flashbacks of the night we spent together replay in my mind. He knows how badly I wanted him then and he knows how much I still want him. My heart pounds and I feel a bit panicky because it’s as if I’m transparent before him.

  I need to go back to how we were. There needs to be no more calling him to the Oval Office. No more singling him out when the Press Pool is around me. And no more private meals together of any kind.

  There’s a knock at the door. I stand, not expecting anyone and more than a little peeved that breakfast is being interrupted. The Secret Service agent opens the door. It’s David.

  “Mr. Herdsman.” I’m pleased my voice is calmer than I feel. “Is there a problem?”

  He looks admonished, at least, as he steps forward. “Madame President, I’m sorry to barge in here, but…” He looks at Navin.

  Navin, who’d stood as soon as I did, glances my way. “Should I leave?”

  “No,” I tell him. I’m not going to invite him to breakfast and then ask him to leave because my Chief of Staff is acting strange. Whatever David wants, it’s not an emergency. If it had been, more people would have arrived with him. “Stay here.”

  David gets the message Navin isn’t going anywhere, and he’s clearly not happy, but he doesn’t say anything about my decision to let him stay. “Those files from my desk?”

  Right, they were still in my room. I’d wanted to look over a few of them, but hadn’t had the time yet. “They’re still in my room.”

  “I need to look at one. It can stay in your room, but I need to get it.” David’s cheeks are flushed, but whether it’s because he’s embarrassed about storming into breakfast or over something having to do with the file in question, I can’t tell.

  “And it couldn’t wait until I finished eating?”

  The flush deepens, and I gather it’s due to embarrassment. “My apologies again for interrupting, Madame President, but it is quite urgent.”

  I nod to the agent standing just inside the door and then turn back to David. “They’re on the couch in my sitting room. Have one of the agents let you in.”

  After he leaves and Navin and I return to our seats, Navin casually sips his coffee. “Is he always that high strung?”

  No, he’s not, and I want to know why he is today. But I can’t forget for one second that the man at my table is from the media. If I give a hint of suspicion concerning David, Navin will be all over the man and in his business, and therefore mine. Frankly, Navin Hazar is deeper in my business than I’d like. I’m not foolish enough to grant him more access. “It’s not unheard of,” is all I say in reply.

  Chapter Twenty

  Him

  The White House

  Washington DC

  It’s so subtle it takes me a few days to notice. Even when I realize what’s going on, I wait a few more days to make sure I’m correct. And when I do, I lift a glass to Anna. Not only is she the first female and Independent President, but she also has super secret ninja skills. This shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Or more to the point, I’m surprised her skills work on me and it took so long for me to notice.

  The short of it is, President Anna Elizabeth Fitzpatrick is ignoring me.

  Granted, it’s nothing blatant or in my face. It takes me almost a week to pick up on, so it’s doubtful anyone else notices. Which is good, because if they do, I’ll have to blame my mother. She’s the one who insisted, albeit only in my head, I bring Anna flowers. And when I look back over the last week in an attempt to discover when Anna began to first distance herself from me, it was that day, which makes me think it has something to do with the flowers or the strange way David acted.

  Actually, now that I’m thinking about his actions, they do strike me as being very out of character based on what I’ve both learned and observed.

  He’d asked Anna about files of his she’d taken. Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to know more about the files, I’m not about to break into the Chief of Staff’s office to do so. I need to follow him without being caught. Maybe doing that will uncover something or at least give me something else to investigate.

  While I think Anna was covering up just how not normal his behavior was, I don’t believe he’s the reason for her standoffish behavior. It must be the flowers.

  I’m surprised she let a little ribbing over flowers make her decide to pretend I don’t exist. Honestly, I doubt she received a fifth of the heat I got for that little gift.

  Regardless, she may have been able to ignore me on the sly without anyone on the Press Pool noticing, but if she insists on remaining that way, today’s the day everyone will find out. Because today she’s visiting a children’s hospital in a nearby city in Virginia for their reopening of the oncology wing after a fire nearly destroyed it months ago. In an attempt to decrease the risk to the children’s already weakened immune system, it’s been requested for only two members of the Press Pool to attend with Anna.

  As luck would have it, I was one of the two randomly selected to go. I only wish I had been able to see her face when she found out.

  The downside to being picked to attend this particular outing is that since it’s nearby, we’ll all be traveling by motorcade. I generally don’t care about the transportation used to get the group of us anywhere. When you factor in everyone who has to travel with the President, it’s not like we can all hop in one car and go.

  But a motorcade means we’ll be in separate cars, separated by even more cars, and the only time we’ll have together is when we’re at the hospital. Not that I plan to confront her about her actions, I really just want to s
ee her sweat. She can ignore me all she wants, that doesn’t make me believe she wants me any less than I can tell she does every time she looks at me. Which is more times than she’d probably care to admit.

  By the time we reach the hospital, it’s obvious someone already informed her of my attendance. She acknowledges me with a curt nod on her way to meet with the hospital executives.

  “Madame President,” I say in return.

  Once she’s past us, we follow behind, heading into the small conference room Anna and the executives are meeting in. This assignment may mark my first time on the Press Pool, but I’ve interviewed past presidents and a large number of world leaders. I’ve watched how they interact with those they come in contact with. More times than not, there is an air of sorts that seems to surround those leaders. I don’t think it’s intentional, rather, it’s just part of the job, and part of what makes them difficult to approach, much less have a conversation with.

  Anna isn’t like that based on what I’ve seen so far. Don’t get me wrong, she still has that air about her, but it’s different. People aren’t hesitant to talk with her, especially since she actually listens. Most of the time when someone’s talking, all the person they’re talking with is thinking about is what they will say next. Not so with Anna. Whenever Anna talks with someone, whether it be a world leader or your average Joe, she’s always fully engaged.

  After introductions are over, Anna takes a seat, and she asks the three executives present what the government can do to aid in their fight to beat childhood cancer. She’s well versed in the subject, and the discussion the group engages in is much more detailed and substantial than I had anticipated. As someone who has not only confronted childhood cancer up close and personal, but also continues to research new therapies and potential treatment, I’m able to follow the hospital Chief of Staff as he updates Anna on the current situation.

  By the time the executives stand up to leave, I’m more impressed with Anna than before. The nursing director is going to give her a tour, and for a few minutes the only people in the room are Anna, me, the Press Pool photographer, and a Secret Service agent. Anna moves to stand at my side. “Mr. Hazar,” she says. “It didn’t occur to me until we were about ten minutes into discussions that this might be a difficult topic for you.”

  She has managed once again to catch me completely off-guard. “Thank you, Madame President, it’s very thoughtful of you to consider my wellbeing, but I assure you I’m fine.”

  She nods. “Will you be okay to go on the tour?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “And in case you might be thinking I’m only giving you lip service, I volunteer at a cancer center in New York once a week. Or, I did.”

  This time it’s my turn to shock her. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It makes my week to know I’ve rendered Anna speechless.

  “Believe it or not, Madame President, there are people who don’t think I’m a complete dick,” I enjoy telling her. “And a good number of them like me.”

  She looks like she’s getting ready to say something, but before she can get a word out, the door opens, and one of the executives Anna spoke with earlier is back. This time there’s a woman with him—the nursing director, I assume. After the appropriate introductions are made, the nursing director looks over to where the photographer and I are standing.

  “Gentlemen,” she says. “If you’re going to be part of the tour, come on up here so you can hear what’s being said.”

  Roger, the photographer, has been propped against the back wall since we first walked in. I look at him and his face has lost all color.

  “Roger?” I ask, and my tone must give away more than I think because in less than two seconds, he’s being helped into a chair by the nursing director.

  Once she has him sitting down, I tell her to go on with the tour and one or both of us will catch up in a few minutes. She agrees, and it doesn’t take long for her to get everyone out of the conference room and into the hall.

  I grab a cold bottle of water from an ice bucket sitting on a beverage cart brought in for the first meeting, and hand it to Roger. He gulps down about half the bottle before speaking.

  “Thanks, man,” he says.

  I take a seat next to him. He’s trembling. “Are you okay?”

  He looks at the table and shakes his head. “I can’t do hospitals. I can’t.”

  There’s no further explanation given, but I’m not going to leave it at that. “Why did you agree to today knowing we were coming to a hospital?”

  “Because the Press Pool needed someone to take pictures today and my supervisor told me he didn’t care what I had to do, I was going to be the one doing it.”

  “And what happens if you return with nothing?” I’m not sure who his boss is, but I’m damn well going to find out.

  “I’ll be let go.” He shrugs. “I tried. I was fine until they brought up the tour. I knew then I couldn’t do it…. My niece… she….”

  I stand up and put my hand on his shoulders. “No explanation needed. Give me your camera.”

  His head shoots up. “What?”

  “You’re not being fired today. Give me your camera and I’ll take some pictures.”

  “You would do that?”

  “Contrary to the rumor mill, I’m actually only an ass eighty-five percent of the time.”

  He snorts, but takes his camera out of the bag by his side and hands it to me. “Do you know how to use one like that?”

  I hold it carefully while I look it over. Photography is one of Gabe’s hobbies and he’s roped me a time or two into going on what he calls a wilderness discovery hike. Turns out it’s less like a hike and more of me following behind him as he searches out things to photograph.

  “I’ve used one similar,” I tell Roger. “But not this exact model.”

  Satisfied I’m not going to break his equipment, he smiles. “Thank you so much, Navin. I really appreciate this.”

  “Might want to wait until you see my pictures before thanking me,” I joke, pleased some of the color has returned to his cheeks.

  I leave Roger in the conference room, telling him to drink some more water, and I’d make certain we didn’t leave the hospital without him.

  The tour is over by the time I reach our small group. Everyone is standing at the end of a hallway, near an open door leading to what I guess is a patient’s room. I might as well get a photo of the whole group, but before giving orders for everyone to look my way and say cheese, I notice someone is missing. A very important someone. The Secret Service agents are still here so everything has to be okay.

  I walk over to one of the hospital executives. “Aren’t we missing someone?”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up into a half smile, and he doesn’t say anything, but jerks his thumb toward the open door. I peek inside and what I find takes my breath away.

  Anna is sitting in a rocker and reading to a toddler in her lap.

  The nursing director suddenly appears at my side. “Her name’s Emma. She spotted President Fitzpatrick and refused to calm down until she picked her up. Now Emma won’t let anyone take her back.” She pauses for a moment, both of us watching the two of them inside the room. “Her parents are only able to visit on weekends. Weekdays are hard because she doesn’t understand.”

  Emma is currently sucking two fingers, trying her best not to fall asleep, and the dichotomy of the powerful POTUS holding the fragile child, reading to her, is awe-inspiring. I lift Roger’s camera and observe the pair through the viewfinder.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Her

  White House

  Washington DC

  Nicole is giving me a rundown of my schedule the day after the hospital visit when David sticks his head in my office. The door is open, but it’s only a few minutes past seven and I’d thought I’d have a chance to at least see what the day held before it started. I’m about to tell David I don’t see him on my schedule when I notice his smile is un
characteristically huge. Especially before nine o’clock.

  “I hesitate to ask what the smile is for,” I say. “Oliver must be at home.”

  David’s smile falters and I could kick myself. But then, just as quickly as it left, it’s back, and I’m more than a little stunned.

  Has he always had the ability to change his expression so quickly, and I’ve just never noticed? If he hides how he feels from me, is it too much of a stretch to think he’s hiding other, more important things as well?

  No,” he says. “This morning’s smile is all for you, Madame President.”

  I try to think of why that could be and come up with nothing. “What is it I did, exactly?”

  David sighs. “Are you still not watching the news?”

  Since I’ve been in office, I’ve decided that, as much as I’m able, I will not watch televised reports on or about me. I told David the end result was I basically stopped watching the news. It’s not true, of course, but it annoys David so I’ll keep it up a bit longer. “I didn’t see it this morning, if that’s where you’re going with that question.”

  “And I suppose you haven’t seen today’s paper, either,” he adds.

  “You would be correct,” I say.

  “In that case.” He pauses as he pulls out a newspaper from behind his back. “Let me be the first to show you the leading story everywhere.”

  He holds out the paper, and I gasp. Covering nearly the entire top half of the paper is a photograph from yesterday. Specifically, of me reading to little Emma. It’s a beautiful shot. The sunlight is coming through the window at just the right angle to illuminate us both. Emma is pointing to the book with one hand while sucking on two fingers of the other one. The look on my face is… serene. It’s hard for me to look away because there’s something different about my face and I can’t figure out what it is.