President's Girlfriend 07 - What He Did for Love

CHAPTER ONE

“It’s a national disgrace,” one TV commentator proclaimed when news of Dutch Harber’s decision spread like wildfire across the landscape and every political hack in Washington had an opinion. 

“How dare he do this to us?  The American people put that man in office.  We believed in him.  We trusted in him!  And how does he repay us?  He quits!”

From MSNBC to FOX, from CNN to Bloomberg, the twenty-four hour news channels couldn’t stop talking about, arguing about, complaining about Walter “Dutch” Harber’s monumental decision to resign the presidency of the United States.  Some questioned the timing of his decision.  Others questioned the “real” reason behind his decision.  Some even questioned if he had resigned at all.

“He has to submit a written declaration of intent to the Vice President, and also to the Speaker of the House.  The Vice President has received his letter, but Speaker Camp hasn’t received his.”

“The Speaker isn’t even in the country right now.  And when he does return he’s going to request face time with the president before he’ll accept any resignation.”

“I don’t know what Birdie thinks is going to happen,” a liberal commentator noted.  “The president’s mind is made up, you saw that press conference yesterday.  He doesn’t want the job, why do you people keep beating a dead horse?  Submitting some letter to Birdie Camp is just a technicality.”

“A technicality my ass!” a conservative commentator replied.  “You and your liberal colleagues may not believe it, but there is still such a thing as the Constitution in this country and it still contains the Twenty-Fifth amendment!  Until he presents Speaker Camp with that written declaration, Dutch Harber, whether he likes it or not, is still our president.”

“So says who?”

“So says the constitution!  Whether he likes it or not!”

“Or whether
we
like it or not,” opined yet another pundit.  “And some of us don’t like it at all!  Dutch Harber and that wife of his can’t get out of our beautiful White House fast enough as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Regardless of what concerns you,” the liberal pointed out, “I’m telling you that the American people love the man.  And they don’t like the fact that he’s resigning.  Most of America is pulling for the Speaker to get the president to change his mind.”

“Who are you kidding, Sid?  You know Dutch Harber!  It’ll be a cold day in hell before that stubborn rascal goes back on his word.  And you can mark
my word
on that!”

And the back and forth continued.  From one accusation to another allegation, to anger, bitterness, and pain.  A lot of pain.  Everybody had an opinion.  Everybody felt the sting of the decision as if it were their own family member finally and ultimately letting them down.  Every television channel carried the news with roundtable discussions that created an echo chamber so loud, and chatter so fierce, that one commentator frustratingly noted how Dutch Harber’s impulsive decision had the entire political class, and the country right along with it, blowing a collective fuse.

In Newark, New Jersey, far away from Washington’s feeding frenzy, on the estate of the home he had built for just a time like this, Walter “Dutch” Harber sat naked in the bathtub inside his son’s bedroom.  He sat there watching as his young son, who also sat in the tub at his feet, played with a toy sailboat.

Finally he spoke. 

“What did I say?” he asked his playful son.

“But it stays up, Daddy.  It stays on top of the water just like a real boat.”

“I’m glad you see that, son, and understand what it means, but what did I tell you?”

Walter Harber, Junior, also known as Little Walt, sighed at the thought that he would not be able to continue doing what he wanted to do.  He frowned, not above showing his displeasure to his father.  “You said it’s time for me to put my toy away and bathe.”

“That’s right,” Dutch replied.  “Now put it away.”

“But, Daddy, it,” Little Walt began replying.  But he looked and saw that look of steel in his father’s hard, green eyes.  “Yes, sir,” he said sadly, and began doing as he was told. 

Dutch leaned his head back and tried with all he had to relax every muscle in his aching body.  He was emotionally spent.  Not just from the enormity of the decision he made the day before and the unrelentingly negative reaction to it, but from the weight that had been placed on his shoulders for far too long.  Now all he wanted was some peace and quiet with his wife and son.  Washington be damned, as far as he was concerned.  He wanted out, and he didn’t care how passionately others wanted him back in.

Gina Harber, a coffee mug in her hand, walked up to the opened bathroom door just as Dutch closed his eyes.  She leaned against it and sipped coffee.  The contrast between Dutch’s white skin and Little Walt’s brown skin made her smile.  Walt may have been closer to her skin tone than to Dutch’s, but he was definitely a Daddy’s boy.  Whenever Dutch was around Walt would cling to him like white on rice, following him around, holding onto his pant leg, sitting on his lap, or, like now, sitting at his feet.  Walt loved his mother, too, there was no doubt in her mind about that.  But Dutch, Gina thought with a wry smile, was that little fella’s favorite. 

And Gina wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She didn’t want their son to be influenced by any other man but his father.  Because Dutch, she knew, would teach him, not the easy way, but the right way.  He was a man of unquestioned integrity in her opinion.  He was a man who had gone through the fire not only for his family, but for this entire country, time and time again.  When they needed strength, they leaned on him.  When they needed power, he exerted his authority with a bully pulpit so loud, and with a stick so big few politicians would have known how to wield it.  He gave and he gave and he gave.  And that was why it hurt her to her heart when she woke up this morning, turned on the television, and heard commentator after commentator declare Dutch Harber a quitter.

“Mom-my!” Little Walt said with unrestraint happiness when he saw his mother standing there.  Dutch looked too.

“There’s my gorgeous little boy,” Gina said with a smile as she pushed away from the doorjamb and walked further into the bathroom.  Dutch watched her as she came, and his eyes roamed down the length of her.  She wore one of his dress shirts, which she usually wore instead of a robe, and her hair was piled around her pretty brown face in what he thought made her look extra-sexy. The older she got, the more attractive she became, he thought.

“You can get in, too, Mommy,” Little Walt said.  “We have room.”

Gina and Dutch glanced at each other and smiled, as they both knew what would happen if she got into that tub.  “Thank-you, baby,” Gina replied, “but Mommy already took a shower and brushed her teeth in me and Daddy’s bathroom.”

“You bathe like a big girl should?”

Dutch laughed.

“Just like a big girl should,” Gina replied.

“Mommy’s clean?”

“Mommy’s real clean.”

“Guess what Mommy?  I’ve got a swim-boat.”  Walt said this and then thought about reaching for his toy boat to show her.  But he remembered what his father had said, looked over at him, and thought again.

“Daddy bought you a sailboat?” Gina asked, sitting on the padded dressing table bench. 

“Yes, ma’am.  Daddy bought me a swim-boat.  But Daddy, but Daddy won’t let me swim it.  He says I have to bathe now.”  Little Walt said this with his best sad face, while his bright hazel eyes looked up at his mother over the curly hair that dropped along his face.  His hope was that she would overrule his father.

But Gina and Dutch were all too familiar with Walt’s game, even at his tender age, of playing one parent against the other one so that it would all redound to his benefit in the end.  “And Daddy’s exactly right,” Gina said as she and Dutch exchanged another smile.  “We want you to be clean like Mommy.  So bathe really good so we’ll never have to call you messy Walt.”

“I’m clean Walt,” Walt said, bathing his skin even harder.

“That’s right,” Gina said.  “We’ve got us a clean little boy up in here!”

“I’m a clean little boy
up in here
!” Little Walt echoed, causing Dutch to rare his head back and laugh.  But Little Walt was serious now.  He began bathing with more pride and focus.

Gina sipped from her cup of coffee again and looked at Dutch.  With his waves of silky black hair, and his forest-green eyes, and his not-an-ounce-of-fat muscular frame, he remained the sexiest man she’d ever known.  And the way he put it on her, day in and day out, made her know that when it came to a mate in every way, Dutch couldn’t be beat.  But she still wondered how he would adjust to life after politics.  And she still wondered if his decision to resign would one day cause him to blame her.

“So, Private Citizen Harber,” she said, “what time did you get up?”

Dutch knew he wasn’t quite a full-fledged private citizen yet.  But that, to him, was just a formality.  “Around five,” he replied.  “I got Walt out of bed and took a run across the estate.  While you, on the other hand,” he said, glancing down at the open part of the shirt that revealed her sizeable cleavage, “was still getting your beauty sleep.”

“And I can use some more,” Gina admitted as she sipped more coffee.  “I almost fell asleep in the shower.  I am truly not a morning person.”

“I thought you were going over to BBR this morning,” he said.  “At least I thought you said you were going to check in at your office today and let your employees know you’ll be returning soon.”

“I did say that, and that was my plan.  Roman even set aside time from his busy schedule to meet with me this morning.”

Dutch looked at her.  “Roman?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, returning his look.  Then she smiled.  “I know it’s been a minute, but don’t tell me you forgot his name, Dutch?”

Dutch didn’t respond to that.  How could he ever forget the name of the man that he knew was deeply in love with his wife?

When Gina realized he wasn’t going to respond, she continued.  “I thought I told you that Roman took over as chief legal counsel for BBR a while back.  I thought I told you, Dutch.”

She hadn’t, but Dutch said nothing.

“Anyway, we were supposed to meet this morning and I was showered and about to get dressed to go.  Until I turned on the television and had the misfortune of listening to all of those commentators and pundits.”

Dutch saw that look of concern in her big brown eyes.

“I knew it would be big news, the biggest, but I guess I didn’t expect the anger and vitriol.” 

Dutch stared at her.  Sometimes he was astonished at how hopeful she still was, and how innocent to the ways of Washington she still remained.  “It was unprecedented news, babe,” he said. 

 “And I know that.  I knew it would be big news.  Major news.  But after what we’d been through I guess a part of me thought they would at least understand.  Or maybe I was just hoping that they would.” 

She looked her big, brown eyes at Dutch with that disconcerting, vulnerable look that always reminded him of just how much she needed him.  “They sound so angry,” she went on, “as if your feelings don’t count at all.  You quit and let them down, that’s all they see.”

“And that’s all they’ll ever see, Gina,” Dutch said bitterly.  “Don’t you forget that, you hear me?  They don’t give a good
got
. . .” He glanced at Little Walt.  “They don’t care about us,” he said, instead.  “I’m their hot topic of conversation right now, and will remain so until the next hot topic comes along.”

“They kept going on and on about the twenty-fifth amendment and how you’re still president.”

“It’s just a technicality.  Once I give my written declaration to Birdie, it’ll be constitutionally official then.”

“And they’re all so mean-spirited.  Not that I didn’t expect blowback, I did.  But goodness gracious, Dutch.  They’re off the chain with this stuff, you should hear them!  They’re calling you everything but a child of God.  And now they’re putting their hopes in Birdie Camp.  Some of them talk as if they just know the Speaker can make you change your mind.”

Dutch and Gina both knew better than that.

But Gina kept on.  “I just wish it was all over.  I know you have a constitutional obligation to give a written declaration to the Vice President and also to the Speaker, but can’t you give it to the Speaker’s representative on his behalf?”

“The White House counsel’s office is adamant that I personally hand it to Birdie for historical unambiguity and strict constitutional adherence.  So no, they recommend against me giving it to anyone except the Speaker himself.  Besides, Birdie has requested a meeting first.”

“He’s caught in a massive storm in some backwoods town in Australia and they won’t allow a single plane out.”

Dutch smiled, and shook his head.  “Right,” he said.  “I’m not getting any breaks, babe.  I can’t even resign without drama.”

“What in the world is he doing in Australia anyway?”

“If you knew Birdie Camp like I know Birdie Camp you wouldn’t even ask that question.  He’s on a fact-finding mission before the House takes up another round of trade legislation and he wanted to see the impact it would have on some of the lesser-heralded places in Australia.  But he’ll be back soon enough.  They’re hoping for the weather to lift in the next day or so and he’ll be able to get a plane out.  And then we’ll meet.”