Deja Vu (34 page)

“I wouldn’t do that, Kathryn. I did enjoy the trip. I don’t think I could do it every day or even every week, but I do have a new appreciation of why you like what you do. I’m apologizing here. I won’t say another word about your driving your rig. If that’s what you want to do, I’m okay with it.”

Kathryn’s eyes snapped open at the same moment the elevator door slid open. “Really, Bert?”

Bert grinned. “Really, Kathryn.”

Murphy raced down the hall to the banquet room. “Hmm, wonder how he knew which room it was. Guess he picked up Annie’s scent. Come on, Bert, let’s get this over with, so I can hit the shower.”

Bert opened the door.

“SURPRISE.!”

Kathryn sagged against Bert as tears flooded her eyes. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. Annie slapped a flute of champagne into her hand. “Happy birthday, darling girl!”

And then they were all crushing against her, hugging her, slapping her on the back. The laughter and the happiness were so real, Kathryn felt light-headed. These people were her family, each and every person in this banquet room. It was a moment in time she would never forget. Ever.

“So, we managed to surprise you?” Myra said.

“You certainly did. I think I’m shocked beyond belief. However did you manage all of this?” Kathryn said, waving her arms about.

Myra looked at Annie, and said, “This woman is relentless. She worked tirelessly to pull this off. We were so worried something would delay you, the truck would break down, whatever, and Bert just kept sending texts giving us the timetable. We’ve been waiting for hours. We aren’t complaining, so don’t think we are. Annie just wanted to make it as perfect for you as she could. She actually closed the casino for today and tonight.”

“Oh, my God! You did all that for me?” More tears flowed as Kathryn wrapped her arms around Annie in a fierce bear hug. “It’s beautiful. I just love balloons!”

“We had a lot left over from the Red Hat parade.” Annie laughed.

“I love the ice sculpture! That’s a pretty big forty. And a Cristal champagne fountain! It looks like all my favorite foods. Oh, Annie, Myra, everyone, this is so wonderful! And the best part is, suddenly I’m not tired. I feel like dancing. Who knew turning forty could be so wonderful?”

The two older women watched as Kathryn and Bert took to the dance floor. Kathryn’s uniform of well-worn flannel shirt, no matter what the weather, equally worn jeans, and her Timberland boots did not look out of place.

What seemed like a long time later, the dance band trooped out of the banquet room, and the bell rang for dinner. Bert led Kathryn, as the guest of honor, to the gorgeous buffet table. The ice sculpture gleamed in the candlelight. The array of food was overwhelming, but Kathryn did her best to heap her plate with a little of everything.

The guests were seated. Annie and Myra, the evening’s hostesses, stood up and proposed a toast to the birthday girl. The chefs, the waiters, waitresses, and stewards discreetly withdrew, virtually sealing off the room. And then just as they wound down from the birthday song, the last seat at the long table was filled.

A hush came over the room as Kathryn looked down the table at the last guest to arrive. She felt a lump in her throat as she gripped the edges of the table.

The uninvited, poorly dressed guest stood and looked down the long table. “I desperately find myself in need of your help, ladies and gentlemen.” The poorly dressed guest reached up and yanked at her raggedy wig.

Shocked speechless, the guests could only stare at the uninvited guest. “No one knows I’m here except the Secret Service I traveled with. I’ll be back at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue before the sun comes up, and my PDB arrives at my door. I just have time for a yes or no, ladies and gentlemen.”

Either the group didn’t hear the words or they were still shocked speechless, because every hand in the room shot in the air. President Connor smiled. “Thank you. It looks like a lovely party; I wish I could stay, but I can’t.” She fixed her gaze on Lizzie Fox and said, “Call me for the details.”

President Connor walked down the length of the table, held out her arms, and hugged Kathryn. “Happy birthday, Kathryn. How wonderful it must be to have so many friends to do something this magnificent for you.”

And then she was gone, the crazy-looking wig riding high on her head as her security surrounded her to lead her from the room.

Kathryn took a huge gulp of air. “Well, guys, that was one hell of a present!”

“Party time!” Annie bellowed.

“We can talk about … our visitor in the morning,” Myra said.

“Happy birthday!” greetings rocked the banquet room.

“And you wanted to take a shower and go to bed,” Bert hissed in Kathryn’s ear.

“Yeah”—she giggled—“can you believe that?”

“You gonna marry me, Kathryn?”

Kathryn thought about the question. “Ya know what, Bert? I just might.”

If you enjoyed
Déjà Vu,
don’t miss the
next exciting novel in
Fern Michaels’s Sisterhood series!

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HOME FREE,
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Prologue

M
artine Connor hung up the phone. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She slid off her chair onto her knees and hugged the dog, which was looking at her expectantly. She had come to love this dog more than anything in the whole world, more than her absentee brother and sister, more than her job as president. And the dog loved her, she was sure of it. She was at her side twenty-four/seven, even in security meetings. She slept at the foot of her bed. Cleo was the first thing she saw in the morning when she opened her eyes and the last thing she saw at night when she closed them.

The tears she’d been trying to hold in check trickled down her cheeks and fell onto the big dog’s shoulder as the president cupped Cleo’s head in her two hands. She wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come.

The big dog suddenly stiffened. She looked around, turning her head this way and that, then ran to the door. The president sighed and got to her feet and walked over to the door. She opened it, and Cleo moved like lightning, shrill happy barks filling the halls of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The president swiped at her tears a second time. She waited as she remembered all she knew about Master Sergeant Gus Sullivan. A remarkable man in all ways according to what she’d read. A career soldier. He’d called himself a foot soldier. When she met him, he’d already put in twenty-six years, which made him forty-six years of age, and now, a year later, he was looking at retirement, something that hadn’t been in his plans. What was it he’d said? “My life is the military, it’s the only home I’ve ever known.” How was a wounded soldier, possibly handicapped for life, going to make it when he was suddenly thrust into a world he hadn’t lived in for twenty-seven years? The president shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Master Sergeant Gus Sullivan could be seen guiding his wheelchair down the hall, with a Marine on each side of him, Cleo frolicking and dancing ahead of the trio.

“Welcome home, Gus,” the president said as she held out her hand.

“Thank you, Madam President! And thank you for seeing me on such short notice. They let me out of Walter Reed to come and see Cleo. I hope that was okay. You did say when I got back to stop by
anytime.”

The president struggled to make her words light even though her heart was breaking in a million pieces. How could she keep this returning hero’s dog? She couldn’t, and she knew it. “I did say that, and I meant it. Please, come in and make yourself at home. Looks to me like Cleo needs a few hugs and some Gus Sullivan love.”

The moment the door closed, Gus rolled his chair to the center of the room. The president gingerly sat down across from him. A second later, Cleo was in his lap. The president fought her tears again. Not so, Gus Sullivan. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he nuzzled the huge dog. “I missed you, girl,” he said in a choked voice. Cleo whimpered.

The president looked on. She didn’t know what to do. So she did nothing. She rang for a steward to bring coffee. God, she wanted a cigarette.

It took a good ten minutes for man and dog to calm down. “It looks like it worked out for the two of you. I knew it would. And thank you so much, Madam President, for sending me all those pictures over the Internet.”

The president swallowed and nodded. “Everyone loves her. She visits all the offices, and I think it’s safe to say that everyone here is her friend. She loves romping on the South Lawn. She likes Air Force One, and she absolutely loves the helicopter. She adjusted well, but she did miss you. We talk … talked about you every single day. I promised you I wouldn’t let her forget you, and it looks to me like you’re front and center.” Her eyes started to burn again.

Gus finished his coffee, motioned for the dog to jump off his lap, which she did. “I have to get back. My nurses are waiting for me outside. I promised I wouldn’t… they just let me out because I… never mind, it’s not important.”

“You’re not taking Cleo with you?” the president blurted.

“Oh, no, ma’am. Is that why you thought I came here? I’d cut off my right arm to take her, but I can’t. I’ve got two more operations to go, then months and months of therapy ahead of me. Right now, I am so full of pain pills that I can hardly see straight. There’s no way I could take care of Cleo and these are her retirement years. She certainly doesn’t need to be taking care of me. I have way too much on my plate right now. The doctors told me that if there was a way for you to bring her by from time to time, they would allow it.”

The president’s insides turned to mush. “Consider it done. Would three times a week work for you?”

“Yessireee, that would work for me, Madam President. Lord, I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Listen, Gus, how about if I leave you two alone for a few minutes. I think you might want to explain the situation to Cleo although I think she already knows.” The president literally ran to the small powder room off the sitting room and closed the door. Her shoulders heaved as she tried to stifle her sobs of gratitude that Cleo was going to stay with her. She dropped to her knees and offered up a prayer, a very short one but straight from her heart. Though her eyes were dry when she walked back into the room, they still burned.

“Gus, I know this is short notice, and I don’t know what kind of restrictions your doctors have you on, but I’d like to invite you to Camp David for Thanksgiving. Since this is August, I’m hoping you will be well on the road to recovery by then. If, for whatever reason, we can’t make that work, how about we plan for you to join Cleo and me over the Christmas holidays at Camp David?”

Cleo pranced and danced around Gus, urging him to comment. “I’ll see what I can do, Madam President, and I thank you for the invitation. Thanks … thanks for everything,” he said, suddenly shy.

“Don’t mention it. In here, we’re just two people who love this dog. I’ll have my secretary make arrangements for Cleo to visit. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

Gus nodded.

“Cleo, I want you to give Gus a presidential escort out of this glorious building. Can you do that?” She hated seeing the look of pain on her guest’s face. She wondered if his medication was beginning to wear off.

Cleo looked first at the president, then at Gus before she dropped her head and her two front legs and bowed. Gus laughed. “I taught her that little trick in Iraq.”

“And she remembered.” The president opened the door. The two Marines who had escorted Gus to her quarters fell into line until the president said, “No, Cleo will do the honors, gentlemen. She can find her way back.”

The president waited in the open doorway for a full ten minutes until she saw her best friend trotting down the hall. Cleo let loose with a joyous bark and bounded into the room. She stopped in the middle of the sitting room, threw her head back, let loose with a howl, and flopped down and rolled over. She was on her feet in an instant as she waited for the treat she’d just earned. The president laughed and handed it over.

“Time to go to work, Cleo. We’ve got some serious business to deal with this morning. I think we’re going to be able to make it work. I-am-the-president, so it better work.”

Cleo made a short, high-pitched barking sound that said she understood perfectly, and it was time to get their respective shows on the road.

Martine Connor wondered if she’d made a mistake in holding this meeting in the Oval Office instead of the Situation Room. She could still change her mind. Actually, if it hadn’t been November, she could have held the meeting outdoors under one of the arbors. While it was brisk outside, the temperature, according to the weatherman, was in the high fifties. Definitely not too cold for a stroll around the grounds with no prying eyes and ears. And, Cleo needed to be walked. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of an outdoor meeting. She hated recording devices. No matter how many she dismantled, there would still be that one that would somehow find a way to come back and bite her.

Okay. She was going to switch plans. A nice brisk outside walk. Then a nice warm early lunch to take the edge off a meeting that wasn’t going to be recorded in any logs. She rang for her secretary, issued clipped orders in her best presidential voice, then broke the connection.

Fifteen minutes later, the president’s chief of staff escorted nine people, four men and five women, into the Oval Office. Martine was already wearing a lightweight jacket, her guests carrying either coats or jackets over their arms.

The formal greeting over, the president looked at the curious faces as her guests wondered what this unorthodox summons out of the blue was all about. She smiled. “I thought a nice brisk walk in the fresh air would do wonders for us all. Then, when we come back in, we’ll all have lunch.” She almost laughed aloud at the startled expressions she was seeing. “Follow me, please.”

As they walked along, the president began to rethink her plans yet again. Maybe this little meeting outside wasn’t such a good idea after all. How could she talk to nine people unless she rounded them all up in a circle and stood in the middle. Cleo, sensing her dilemma, headed to the president’s own personal gazebo, which was lined with benches and contained a round wooden table. Weather permitting, she often had her meals served out there. She patted the big dog’s head as she stood aside to usher her guests into the gazebo. How did this magnificent dog know instinctively what she was thinking and wanting? She wondered if she would ever figure it out.