First Lady (13 page)
“Hell, I’m not good at a lot of things,” David chimed in as he plucked his ball from the cup. “Just ask Beth.”
Dev moved over to her ball, which was just on this side of the green, and for several seconds regarded the putt she knew she would never make.
Just as her club made contact with the ball, Frank asked loudly, “So when are you and Lauren planning children?”
The ball rolled well off the putting green, then down a steep slope. “Shit.” She glanced up at her father. “What? Have you been talking to Aaron?”
“Of course. He is my favorite grandson,” Frank reminded her reproachfully. “Along with Christopher, my other favorite grandson.”
Dev huffed as she retrieved her ball, sticking it into the pocket of her pants. “I am not shooting it again.” She marched over to the cart and took a seat.
Frank chuckled as he sank the putt he had missed. “Watch it, Dev. The press will get a picture of you pouting.”
“I don’t care,” she answered as she crossed her arms over her chest, grateful that the First Minister had begged off today and wasn’t around to witness her humiliation first hand. Of course it would be in all the papers in the morning. She groaned inwardly.
David and Frank both burst out laughing as they climbed in the cart and headed to the next hole, with a small caravan of press and Secret Service following just out of earshot.
Dev glanced sideways at her father, who was driving. “Why did you ask that?”
“Seemed like a logical question, Devil. I know you always wanted lots of kids. And I wasn’t aware that that had changed.”
Dev examined her putter with exaggerated interest. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure Lauren wants lots of kids. I think she thinks that the three we have are plenty.”
David shifted uncomfortably, wishing he wasn’t here for this particular conversation.
“You haven’t talked about it?” Frank asked, his tone more surprised than scolding.
“No.” She set down her putter and began picking at a clump of dirt attached to one of her cleats. “Why not, Devlyn?” comes next.
“Why not, Devlyn?”
She looked at him sharply, annoyance written clearly on her face. Then she glanced back at David, who pulled his golf cap down over his eyes.
“Dad, sometimes, when you love someone, you just go with what you’ve got.”
“Bullshit.” He looked at her sternly. “You never know until you ask. Your mother and I didn’t raise you to run away from things.”
“Dad…” she warned.
“No, now listen to me, Devil. You’re not going to be President forever; you’re going to go back to at least a semi-private life eventually. Why should you give up on the things that you’ve wanted your entire life because you’re marrying Lauren?”
“Because that’s how equitable partnerships go, Dad.”
“Don’t lecture me about partnerships, young lady. I’ve been married for over 42 years.”
“Yes, sir.” Devlyn was instantly contrite.
Frank sighed and patted Dev’s leg. “I don’t mean to push, honey. I just hate to see you abandon something that was important to you without even trying for it.”
Dev resisted rolling her eyes. “We have three kids. I’m sure that is plenty for Lauren.”
“Or are you just afraid of what her answer will be if you do ask?”
Dev groaned. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”
Frank let out a low growl, and David chuckled despite himself.
“God,” she dropped her face in her hands. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain?”
“Yes. Several times,” he answered as he slowed the cart and then turned towards her and pinned her with intense eyes. “I nearly lost you last year. All I could do was sit back and watch you recover from being shot. I watched you. I watched Lauren. And I could see it then, the way you two were falling for each other. The way she worried about you. Then I looked at my grandchildren.” He swallowed hard and took her hand. “Sam’s death was hard enough for all of us. Losing you would have…” He stopped and shook his head. “Just make sure you talk to Lauren. I want you and Lauren both to have everything you want in life, sweetheart.”
She nodded, trying to understand what he was saying. “We’ll talk, Dad. I promise. But no guarantees.”
“Of course not.” He lifted his chin a little, pushing back the morbid thoughts. “Deciding to stop with the wonderful grandbabies I have now is one thing. But let it be a decision you both make. Give Lauren enough credit to at least include her in it.” He pressed the gas pedal on the cart, and they began to buzz along again. The air smelled fresh and cool, tinged with the green scent of wet grass. “Besides, I think Lauren would make really cute babies.”
“Hey, what about me?” Dev blurted. “I make pretty good looking kids too, ya know.”
“Yeah,” David sat up straight now, finally willing to wade into the conversation. “But you’re getting a little long in the tooth there, Dev. It won’t be long before you go through ‘the change.’”
She snatched the cap her father was wearing, which only served to complete his hideous golfing outfit of blue-and-green plaid pants and a pink shirt, and beat David with it, knowing that cameras behind them were probably clicking madly, but not caring a bit. “You are so fired.”
David grabbed the hat and grinned. “So what’s new?” He gently placed the cap back on Frank’s head. “You’re going to have to do better than that before I get worried.”
The cart stopped and they climbed out. As they picked their drivers, Frank placed his hand on Dev’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know I sound like I’m butting in, a task I usually and very happily leave to your mother.”
“It’s okay, Dad, truly.” Devlyn knew her father had wanted more children but that her birth had been exceptionally difficult on her mother, who was warned that another childbirth would be life-threatening.
“Are you happy, Devil?” The answer was painfully obvious, but he felt like it was his fatherly duty to ask every once in a while anyway.
Dev beamed. “You have no idea.”
“Can your old man make one more observation?”
“Could I stop you?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I do have an idea, because when I watch you with Lauren and I see the way you look at her,” he paused, blushing slightly. “It’s the same way I still look at your mother, even after all these years.”
“I’ve got it that bad, huh?” Dev’s eyes twinkled happily.
“You’ve got it in spades.”
“Good.”
Frank winked and gestured toward the green, where David was waiting patiently. “Shall we, Madam President?”
“Sure, I can handle another five holes of humiliation.” Dev leaned up and kissed her father’s cheek. He smelled of Old Spice, and she smiled as the scent so familiar from childhood tickled her nose.
As they walked she looked up to the press following them and waved; the faint sound of cameras clicking made her shake her head. “I’m glad my ability to be President isn’t impaired by my inability to play golf.” She leaned on the club, standing side-by-side with Frank, unintentionally creating a memorable photo op while David swung his club.
*
*
*
IT WAS WELL after
and Lauren had had such a wonderful day of not doing much of anything at all that she was now wide awake and in search of a cup of coffee. After a year of living with a self-proclaimed coffee addict, she found herself craving the tasty brew nearly as much as Devlyn did.
She’d spent five days in the cabin on the Marlowes’ property all alone, enjoying the peace and solitude and trying to work her way back to a healthy state of mind. She didn’t work on Dev’s biography or even on the installment in her Adrienne Nash fiction series that she and Devlyn were supposed to do together, but never seemed to have enough time for. Instead, she wrote bad poetry that caused her to burst out laughing when she read it out loud, read trashy paperback romances, ate popcorn for breakfast, and daydreamed to her heart’s content. It was a much needed respite in a life that had somehow spun out of her control, and she was, at last, able to spend a good long while remembering the good things in her life and being thankful for them.
In her pajamas and a robe, Lauren padded slowly down the stairs of the main house that led into the Marlowe kitchen. The lights were off, but the soft moonlight streaming through the windows allowed her to see where she was going. The wooden floors were cold on her bare feet, and she spared a brief, wistful thought for the pair of toasty sweat socks that she knew she had stashed in the dresser upstairs. The house was large and well appointed by any standards, but held a warmth of character that the White House couldn’t match in her eyes. She was glad that Devlyn had grown up here, where love flowed like a river, filling things up. Things here were so bright and hopeful.
When she closed her eyes and thought of the small, working class house where she grew up in
Nashville
and where her father still lived, one word came to mind… dark.
In every way.
Her mother had suffered from migraines and debilitating bouts of depression, and the shades at the Strayer house were always drawn tightly together, blocking out the light.
And everything else.
“Oh, Mama,” she sighed. “Please let it be that you finally found the peace you craved.” She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache in her stomach that accompanied thoughts of her mother. Anna Strayer’s suicide had been on her mind a lot lately as she fought with her own seeming inability to get a handle on the media and political frenzy that accompanied her engagement to Devlyn. After spending her entire adult life as a professional observer, she found being under such maddening, intense scrutiny more than she could bear at times.
Lauren fiddled with the coffee maker on the kitchen counter, letting out a small, satisfied grunt when she found that the aromatic grounds were already neatly in place, waiting to be brewed. She pushed the “on” button, her mind still on her mother. “Maybe I need to go to the doctor?”
“Are you not feeling well, dear?”
Lauren whirled around at the unexpected voice, inadvertently startling the speaker as much as herself.
“Oh,” Janet gasped, then smiled in apology. She was wearing a thin, red plaid robe and brown suede slippers. She also didn’t look like she’d been to bed yet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Lauren let out a slow breath, her heart pounding so furiously that she was a little dizzy. “No,” she chuckled a little sheepishly. “It’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I heard footsteps.”
Lauren moved away from the counter, the motion bringing the scent of coffee to Janet. She smiled fondly. “You have been spending too much time with my daughter, I see.” She made a face. “I never could drink the stuff. Too bitter. I prefer tea with milk and sugar, I’m afraid.”
A shy smiled twitched at Lauren’s lips. “Even though she’s turned me into a hopeless addict, my time with Devlyn is well spent.”
Janet grinned broadly. Love was such a beautiful thing it made her want to cry.
“I imagine it is.” She wove her arm through Lauren’s and led her to a small breakfast table. “Here.” From the deep front pocket of her robe she pulled out a pair of heavy gray socks. “I thought you might need these. The floors are cold at night.”
Lauren’s face lit up. “Oooo… yes, please. You always seem to know. Are you a witch or something?” Happily, she took the socks and sat down. Tugging them on, she sighed as her toes instantly warmed.
“Depends on who you ask, dear.” Janet sat down across from Lauren. Her blue eyes twinkled and unerringly reminded Lauren very much of a shorter, older, salt-and-peppered hair version of Devlyn. “I have my moments.”
Lauren reached across the small table and took her hand, absorbing the warmth and strength of Janet’s grasp. She briefly focused her attention on Janet’s hands, thinking that, despite the fact that Janet Marlowe was a very attractive woman, it was true what people said. The face might lie, but the hands always reveal a woman’s real age.
The older woman’s gaze softened. She remembered looking at her own mother and grandmother’s hands with just the same expression. God, where have the years gone? “How was the cabin?”
“Mmm…” Lauren looked up from their linked hands. “Good, I think,” she said a little hesitantly. “I’m… I’m not sure what Devlyn told you.”
Janet’s eyebrows lifted. “She told me that you needed a place to relax.”
Lauren swallowed, ashamed. “That’s all?”
Janet sighed. “That’s all, honey. Although I did have an interesting talk with Sarah Turner, who called me last week and told me that she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding.”
Janet’s expression turned slightly sour and Lauren wondered why. She didn’t have to wonder long. “That girl has always been a handful, and it hasn’t helped that Devlyn is such a babe in the woods.”
Lauren snorted. “Babe in the woods? The woman who I’ve personally seen stare down the most powerful men and women in the world and either win them over or scare the crap out of them, depending on what she was trying to do? That woman?”