First Lady (39 page)

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

“
Yoo-hoo!
”

Nothing could have told Nealy more clearly that her adventure was over than the sight of Bertis and Charlie standing in the backyard, with Toni detaining them on one side, Jason on the other.

“These people won’t let us in!” Bertis exclaimed, waving wildly.

Nealy felt her shoulders sag. This was the world she was thrusting those children into.

“I’m sorry, Nealy.”

Startled, she looked up to see Mat regarding her with something that looked like compassion. She didn’t want his sympathy, hated him so much at that moment for giving it to her that she could barely manage a shrug. “Life goes on.”

“Yeah, it sure does.”

In the end, he was the one who rescued the Waynes and brought them inside. They’d already figured out Nealy’s identity, but when she tried to explain why she’d left Washington, she couldn’t manage it, and he took over. He also told them what was happening with the girls. When he was done, Nealy waited for them to change into different people, but Bertis merely shook her head and extended the plate she’d been carrying.

“Have some fudge, you poor thing. It’ll make you feel better.”

As Nealy packed the last of Button’s clothes, Lucy flew from one spot in the motor home to another, talking a mile a minute and getting in the way. “. . . do the dishes every night, and take care of Button, and clean my room. I’ll clean the whole house—I’ll even clean the White House—and I’ll—”

The door opened and Mat wedged himself inside. “Luce, Bertis and Charlie are on the sunporch watching Button. Why don’t you say your good-byes?”

“I’ll invite them to come visit us!” The door banged behind her as she ran outside.

Mat’s betrayal clung to Nealy like bitter dust. She turned her attention to packing up the last of Button’s rompers.

“The vultures are already descending,” he said. “A patrol car just showed up.”

She placed the stack of clothes inside the suitcase and pretended it didn’t matter. Mat moved closer, filling up what was left of the floor space. She thought about Dennis and the truth she hadn’t quite revealed, but which Mat had, nonetheless, guessed. Before she left, she had to confront him about it.

“What do I have to do to keep you from telling my secrets?”

He regarded her with watchful eyes. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Why? Never trust the press—one of the first rules I learned.”

“I’m not just the press,” he said tightly. “I’m your friend.”

Her
friend
. Not her lover. Not her beloved. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

She forced herself to remember that she had a legacy to protect and there were larger issues at stake than a broken heart. Maybe she’d mistaken his intention and judged him too harshly. “Does that mean you’re not going to write about any of this?”

“I have to,” he said quietly.

She shouldn’t have been so devastated, but she was.

“Listen to me, Nealy. The press is going to be in a feeding frenzy. I’m the best protection you’ve got.”

“Aren’t I lucky,” she shot back.

“I could give you a dozen reasons why I have to write this story, but you’re not going to listen to any of them, are you? I’ve been tried and convicted.”

She clenched her fists. “Don’t you dare try and take the moral high road! I’ve seen some slimy journalistic tactics over the years, but you get the prize. Do you always sleep with your big stories?”

“Stop it,” he said tightly.

She fumbled with the zipper on the suitcase. “Get out. I don’t have anything more to say to you.”

“Nealy, use your head. Somebody’s going to have to set the record straight about where you’ve been or you’ll never have any peace.”

“So you’re doing this as a favor?”

“I don’t want us to part as enemies.”

“You want us to part friends?” She yanked hard on the zipper. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? As your
friend
, I’d feel obligated to toss some juicy insider stories your way.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

She was glad that she’d finally provoked his anger because it made everything easier. “You don’t want to know what I think of you.”

She grabbed the suitcase and tried to push past him, but he shoved it aside and crushed her to his chest. “Damn it, Nealy!”

His mouth descended on hers. The kiss was painful, a travesty of what they’d shared just that morning. He seemed to realize it, too, and he stopped, rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t do this, Nealy. Don’t let it end like this.”

She pulled away, needing to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. “You were a diversion, Mat. Now it’s over.”

The motor home burst open, and Lucy rushed in, too caught up in her own excitement to notice anything was wrong. “Ohmygod, Nell! There are two police cars out there now, and these television guys just showed up! And Toni said they’ve got a helicopter coming in to a field not too far away. Are we going to ride in it? Ohmygod, I’ve never been in a helicopter! Do you think Button will get scared? You’re going to have to hold her, Mat. Maybe she won’t be scared if —”

Right then, it hit her.

She stared at Mat, her mouth still partially open, and even as she asked the question, she seemed to know the answer because she was shaking her head. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

All the light went out of her eyes. “You have to! Tell him, Nell. Tell him he has to!”

“Lucy, you know Mat can’t come with us. He has a job. Another life.”

“But . . . I guess you can’t live with us, but you’ll come visit us all the time, won’t you? You’ll come see us next week or something.”

He took a ragged breath. “Sorry, Luce. I’m afraid not.”

“What do you mean? You have to! Not to see me, but Button . . . you know how she is. She doesn’t understand things, and . . .” She drew a jagged breath. “She thinks you’re her dad.”

His voice sounded hoarse. “She’ll forget about me.”

Lucy spun toward Nealy. “Tell him he can’t do this, Nell. I know you’re mad at him, but tell him he can’t just go away like this.”

Nealy wouldn’t let her own bitterness spoil Lucy’s memories of Mat. “He has things he needs to do, Lucy. He’s busy, and he has to get back to his real life.”

“But—” Her eyes returned to him. “But you two guys love each other. I know you’ve been fighting a lot lately, but everybody fights. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re gonna want to see each other again.”

Nealy barely managed to keep her voice steady. “We don’t love each other. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but we’re very different people. We just happened to have been thrown together by peculiar circumstances.”

“I’ll write you letters,” Mat said. “I’ll write you a lot.”

“I don’t want your dumb letters!” Her face contorted. “Don’t even bother sending them! If you don’t want to come see us, then I won’t ever talk to you again!”

Eyes brimming with tears, she ran from the motor home.

Even though Nealy wanted him to hurt, she didn’t want it to be like this. “I’m sure she’ll change her mind.”

His expression was stony. “It’s better this way.”

While Nealy made her final preparations, Mat stood in the yard engaged in an angry conversation with Jason Williams about the circus that was gathering. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d stormed out of the motor home half an hour earlier. There was nothing left to say.

Through the living room window, she saw curious neighbors crowding their front yards trying to see why the street had been blocked off. Even though only one television news crew had been lucky enough to be close by, she knew it wouldn’t be long before the small town was invaded by media representatives from all over the world.

Their shabby suitcases had been loaded into one of the patrol cars, along with several plastic grocery sacks filled with Lucy’s Walkman, Button’s toys, and other precious objects that couldn’t be left behind. Unfortunately, that included Squid.

Nealy walked toward Lucy, who was holding Button, while Bertis and Charlie hovered nearby. Her conscience urged her to make one last attempt. “Take a look out the window, Luce. This is what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I already looked, and I don’t care.” Despite her brave words, she was obviously shaken, and she drew Button closer.

“You still have time to change your mind. I’ll do everything I can to make certain both of you are placed with a good family.”

Lucy gazed up, her expression imploring. “Please, Nell. Don’t give us back.”

Nealy surrendered. “I won’t, kiddo. From now on, both of you are mine. For better or for worse.”

“Now, Lucy, don’t you forget to write,” Bertis said. “And you need to start eating more vegetables. I should have made you my green bean casserole.”

Nealy tried not to think about the man she’d fallen in love with as she gave them a hug. “Thank you for everything. I’ll call. Are you ready, Luce?”

Lucy swallowed hard and nodded.

“We can do this one of two ways. We can make a run for the car, so we don’t have to face anybody right now, or we can hold up our heads, smile at the cameras, and show the world that we don’t have anything to hide.”

“Da!”

Mat came in the front door. Nealy wasn’t going to be spared.

His eyes found hers—the same gray eyes she’d gazed into this morning as his body moved inside her own. She wanted to cry until she couldn’t cry anymore, to scream at him because she loved him and he didn’t love her back. Instead, she arranged her features in a blank, polite mask.

He flinched, then went to Lucy and Button. Brushing his thumb over the baby’s cheek, he said, “You give ’em hell, Demon.”

He gazed down at Lucy, but her expression was a heartbreak happening and he didn’t try to touch her. Nealy swallowed and looked away.

“You watch out for yourself, ace. And try to behave.”

Lucy bit down on her lip and looked away.

Finally he moved toward Nealy, but everyone was watching them, and there was nothing left to say. His eyes clouded, and his voice had a rasp. “Have a good life, Nealy.”

She managed a stiff nod, turned to Lucy, and took the baby. Then she stepped back into the world she knew too well.

Cornelia Case had come in from the cold.

“H
OLLINGS HAS BEEN
in the Senate for twelve years, Cornelia! I forbid you to go any farther with this nonsense.”

Nealy rubbed her eyes wearily, then looked up from her satinwood desk at James Litchfield. Her office was located in a sunny room at the rear of the Georgian home that had once belonged to Dennis, but now belonged to her. The estate sat on twenty wooded acres in Middleburg, the heart of Virginia hunt country. She’d always loved the place more than Dennis, who’d preferred Washington, and now she’d made it her permanent home.

The office was one of her favorite rooms—creamy walls with chalk-white trim, a mishmash of good antiques, and a cozy fireplace. Soft floral draperies hung at long, rectangular windows that looked out over a lush stretch of trees just beginning to wear fall colors.

She set down her pen. “Hollings is an idiot, and the people of Virginia deserve better. What did you put in your mouth, you little dickens?”

Button had been playing on the English needlepoint rug. Its delicate moss and rose pattern was strewn with a collection of her toys, along with a cardboard toilet paper roll, an empty oatmeal box, and kitchen measuring cups. Her eyes were innocent as she returned Nealy’s gaze, but her cheeks bulged with contraband, probably part of the dinner roll she’d been carrying around the day before.

“Take that away from her, Dad.”

Litchfield regarded the baby severely. “Give it to me, Beatrice.”

“Nah!”

Fortunately, Button’s exclamation discharged the chunk of roll. In a motion as elegant as the sweep of a polo mallet, Litchfield whipped a snowy handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks, picked up the gummy dough, and deposited it in the wastebasket that sat on top of Nealy’s credenza, away from toddler temptation.

“Hollings may not be the best senator we have, but he’s always been loyal to the party, and he’s extremely upset.”

She and her father had been arguing over her decision to run for the Senate ever since she’d made up her mind last month. Now she leaned back in her chair and propped one of her stockinged feet on Squid, who was curled beneath her desk. “Then find some other way to reward him because I’m going after his seat in the primary.”

“Not without my support, you won’t!”

“Dad,” she said, as gently as she could, “I don’t need your support.”

The office door banged open and Lucy rushed in—teenage cavalry to the rescue. “I’m home.”

“So I see.” Nealy smiled at her very protective new daughter-to-be.

She looked like most of the other fourteen-year-olds in the private school the two of them had chosen for its excellent academics and democratic atmosphere: draw-string pants, skimpy dark brown sweater, ugly thick-soled shoes, and too many ear-pierces. But Lucy’s fresh young beauty shone through.