First Lady (40 page)
Devlyn sniffed a few times, willing it to be completely true, even as she then drew in a deep breath and murmured, "I'm stuck with you."
Lauren drew their joined hands to her mouth and placed a tender kiss on the ring she’d given Dev at their wedding.
Devlyn allowed herself a few deep, calming breaths before she gave Lauren a lopsided, self-deprecating grin. "I really feel like shit for being such a coward. I didn't mean for it to get this out of hand. You’re the one thing I count on. The most important thing. I know it’s stupid, but I didn’t want to risk that."
The golden light from the fire reflected off Lauren’s damp cheeks and her eyes fluttered closed when Devlyn leaned forward and gently brushed away her remaining tears with slightly trembling lips. “I'm sorry, too. For doing anything that made you think you couldn't talk to me." Her throat began to close, and she started to get upset all over again. "I don't want things to be like that between us," she said miserably.
“Please, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry,” Dev admitted in a hushed voice. “It’s not your fault.”
“Nuh uh, Devlyn.” Lauren clutched Dev’s hand tightly and held it to her heart. “It’s both our faults.”
“No—”
“Yes,” Lauren corrected, her voice as gentle as she could make it. “We’ve got some stuff to work on.” She lifted her eyebrows in appeal. “Okay?”
Dev’s answer was immediate. “Anything.” She licked her lips, feeling as though she’d just run a marathon. “Is… um… is there anything else you want to know? About David.”
Lauren drew in a shaky breath and let it out. “Everything, I guess. Does Beth know?”
Dev nodded. "Yes. We had to clear it with her first. There are only four people in this world who know. The kids don't know, even my parents don't know.” She shifted her position on the sofa, neatly fitting herself into one corner. Then, with quick pat on her lap, she invited Lauren to lay her head down. When Lauren didn’t accept immediately, Devlyn felt the beginning stings of rejection and was on the edge of withdrawing her offer when Lauren let out a breathy sigh and moved to place her head in Dev’s lap.
Lauren’s eyes fluttered closed as Devlyn drew long, slender fingers through her wavy hair. Things were already becoming more manageable in her mind. They would work through this; her heart wouldn’t accept anything less.
“What if the kids want to know when they're older?” Lauren asked. “That day is coming, Devlyn.” Her mind was unerringly drawn to the teary conversation she and Ashley had had in
“Mmm… we agreed to tell them if they ever asked, and I felt they could handle it."
"And David is okay with them not knowing? Forever?" Lauren found that a little hard to believe, especially considering how close David and Beth were to all the children.
"David doesn't want to interfere with our family, honey. He wants to be a part of it, and he and Beth are a big part of the kids’ lives. Maybe deep down inside he wishes they knew, but I don’t think he’d ever try to go against our agreement or my wishes on this. He's their Uncle David and they love him. He only wanted to know what would happen to the kids if I died. If that had happened, he and Beth would have raised them. That all changed when you came along. I’d want you to have them.”
Thoughtfully, Lauren nodded, “I’d want that too. Just don’t let something happen to yourself. I mean it.”
Devlyn smiled grimly. “I’m being careful.”
“Be more careful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She bent down and kissed Lauren on the forehead.
"And when you said you wanted more children, you meant with David as the donor?"
Now Dev felt like squirming. "Not necessarily. We could look at other options, but I’m pretty sure there's still a few decent little swimmers on ice."
Lauren held up her hand. "Ugh. Never mind that last question, Devlyn. I don’t want to think of David’s swimmers. Besides, that’s getting way too far ahead of ourselves. I need some time to digest all this. I guess I'm not really sure what to think. My head is still spinning."
"I don’t blame you. And it’s my stomach that’s spinning." She gave Lauren an awkward hug. “I hate it when we fight.”
"Same here.” Lauren squeezed her back as tightly as she could, not knowing how much she had really needed that until right this second. Finally, they separated and she turned pleading eyes on Devlyn. "I'm going to need beer if I'm going to hear any more revelations tonight, sugar."
Devlyn touched the tip of Lauren’s nose with her finger. "You’re safe. There’s nothing else. I promise."
They were quiet for long moments, their attention lost to the fire’s flickering flames and their thoughts.
Breaking the silence Lauren finally muttered, “Ashley has his eyes.” The slight slurred quality of her voice told Devlyn that she was nearly asleep.
Dev nodded, not quite sure how she felt about that. Her eyes moved from Lauren’s shadow-dappled face then back to the flames, as her lover’s breathing grew deeper and evened out. “I know.”
*
*
*
DEV SMILED AND shook hands with as many people as she could as she walked the rope line in
Atlanta
. She was covered in a light sheen of sweat, not only from the heat, but also from the thought that some unknown gunman might be in the crowd… waiting, wanting more than anything to steal the happiness she cherished.
Fucking shooting, her mind seethed. Nothing will ever be the same. I used to thrive on meeting my constituents and feeling their energy. It actually made me high. Now all I can think of is that this bulletproof vest itches and won’t help me if I take a bullet in the head.
“I understand, ma’am,” she told an elderly woman who was pumping her hand like there was no tomorrow. “Having an interstate built right through your living room would be a very bad thing. My friend Congressman Preston,” Dev motioned to the lucky candidate who was standing annoyingly close to her as she campaigned on his behalf, “will be happy to hear more of your story and see what we can do to help.” Dev gave him meaningful look. “Won’t you, Rick?”
The man tried not to wince. “It would be my pleasure, Madam President,” he boomed with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
Devlyn leaned a little closer to the woman’s ear so the words would be for her alone. “He really will find out what can be done. I promise.”
The woman beamed, her false teeth shining in the hot sun. “Thank you, Ms. President. I knew you’d understand. Why I told my granddaughter Thelma, she’s the one who is going to college…”
Prudently, Congressmen Preston intervened so that Devlyn continued to move down the line of people. She offered a wave to the people who couldn’t fight their way to the front of the crowd and hadn’t been waiting there since dawn and gotten a spot along the rope, making eye contact with as many as possible. A suited man bumped into her from the back and her neck hairs bristled in reaction. For some reason the close proximity of the Secret Service agents made her feel itchy and claustrophobic. Guess I’m not as used to their hovering as I thought. Since the assassination attempt, public appearances like this one had been rare and the security intense.
But gamely, she kept her smile permanently affixed and listened as best she could to comments that ranged from mindless praise to her choice of foreign policy, hairstyles, clothes, and children — not necessarily in that order — to outright hostility. When the end of the line finally came into view, she fought hard not to scream, “Thank God!”
She’d been on the road for the past four days, stumping for various Emancipation Party congressmen who were up for re-election in the fall.
Lauren had accompanied Devlyn to all but the last four states in her 11-state whirlwind tour, but had decided to head back to
The Senior-Agent-In-Charge discreetly touched Devlyn’s arm and inserted himself between Devlyn and the crowd. "Madam President, we need to go."
She nodded and, taking a deep breath, stepped around the large man and shook hands with the last people in line. Seconds later, she was inside a fast moving limousine.
The air inside the luxury car was cool and dry, and she nearly whimpered as she pressed her overheated skin against the soft leather. Most of her aides had taken a car before her in an attempt to use every single extra second to organize things before she arrived at her next destination. In the limo a silent agent sat in each corner of the seat across from her, each man alertly looking out at the dispersing crowd through the one way, bulletproof glass. Thankful for the quiet, her eyes closed without her permission.
"Madam President?"
Devlyn whimpered when she heard Liza's soft, hesitant voice. She hadn’t seen her in the car. "Yes?"
"I’m sorry to interrupt your rest, ma’am, but here are the notes for your next appearance. You’ll be speaking to the UDC. The speech is nearly the same as it was for
Dev's head came up and one eyebrow rose as she glanced across the wide seat. "Are any of them still alive?”
Liza blinked.
"In
Charleston
, ma'am?
Your speech wasn’t that bad."
"No, not in
Charleston
,” Dev said with a tiny snarl, but couldn’t help but laugh. “I was trying to make a joke about the United Daughters of the Confederacy.”
“Nice try, ma’am.”
“Thank you so much, Liza,” Devlyn shot back dryly.
“Why the UDC?" Devlyn opened the folder that slid in her direction and scanned the coversheet.
"Same as usual, ma’am.”
Dev scanned the information with a grunt. Big supporters, sizeable donation expected for her party, etc., etc….
“The UDC are very pleased with your performance in the White House, Madam President.”
"I'm happy for them. Speaking of which, do you have this week’s numbers?"
"Yes, ma'am." Liza removed yet another folder from the pile next to her. "Chief of Staff McMillian and Press Secretary Allen both commented that your numbers are up again this week. Having the First Lady with you for part of this tour was a boon to the numbers. The voters love her."
“They are wise people.” Dev took a bottle from the holder next to her and took a long drink of the chilled water, which helped to ease her scratchy throat.
Dev held the folder, but didn’t open it. Rubbing between her eyes she felt another headache coming on. "Please remind Michael Oaks and Press Secretary Allen that I want to have my blood drawn and be the first to register under the DNA Registration Act. Its effective date is coming up."
"Yes, ma'am."
As she began to skim the contents of the second folder, Dev patted her jacket as she searched for a phone. Liza, as a staff member who carried a secure phone, handed hers over. The President nodded her thanks and dialed a number she had memorized.
“Hello, Ethan?” She sat up a little straighter as she addressed one of her aides who dealt exclusively with pending legislation. “What’s the status on those six votes for the Well Family Act?” After a moment, her face darkened. “If I never get another piece of legislation passed, Ethan, I want that one." After a long moment of silence she said, “Fine. Do it and let me know.” Looking pensive, she hung up the tiny phone and passed it back to her administrative assistant, watching as Liza dutifully followed protocol and wiped out the phone’s memory in front of her boss.
“You know what he told me, don’t you?” Dev gave Liza’s foot a playful shove. She had come to value Liza’s mind and the fact that the woman wasn’t afraid to offer an opinion when appropriate.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I figured.” Dev decided then and there that, no matter how much she depended on Jane, as her secretary, she needed to keep her personal assistant on the payroll permanently, even after her tenure as president.
Dev’s thoughts drifted back to her phone conversation. Cutting deals was part of the job, and she’d just traded an increase in medical benefits for pregnant women, small children, and heads of household in exchange for dropping her proposal to increase the import tax on foreign grains. She’d suspected that was what it would take to get the votes she needed. But no matter how many political deals she cut she always felt as though she was robbing Peter to pay Paul.
She always lost a little, even when she won.
*
*
*
Devlyn stepped out of her hotel bathroom, a cloud of steam escaping as she padded into the suite’s bedroom while drying her hair with a fluffy white towel. The sun was setting over the city, and from the top floor of the hotel the view was spectacular.
Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she tried to remember what day it was. Then she smiled.
Lauren and the kids wouldn't be at home for another hour. Tonight they were going to a production of “Beauty and the Beast” at the