First Lady (23 page)

Jason set down the magnifier. “It looks like she was deliberately dodging the camera.”

“Hard to tell, but it does seem that way.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. A husband, a baby, a teenager. Highly unlikely this woman is Aurora.”

“I agree. But—this is a small town. Why doesn’t anybody know who she is?”

“She was probably just traveling through with her family. The girl said she was from Hollywood.”

“Nobody in Hollywood even knows where West Virginia is. And why did she dodge the camera, then disappear so fast afterward? Even more interesting—why did the teenager give a phony address when she picked up the prize?”

“Because Brandy Butt or somebody in her family doesn’t want to be found.”

She picked up the proofs again. “And she only won second place. Let’s not forget that.”

“Yeah. Pretty hard to forget.” He pulled a tin of Altoids from his pocket and slipped one in his mouth. “So do we agree that we have exactly nothing?”

“I’d say that’s about right. Still, this morning we had less than nothing, so we’re working our way up.”

Nealy vetoed two potential picnic spots before she found a location that pleased her. It was in a park on the edge of one of the small farming towns that lay just west of Vincennes across the Wabash River. She chose it for its duck pond, baby swings, and nice open space where they could throw a Frisbee around.

“We don’t have a Frisbee,” Lucy said when Nealy mentioned this.

“We do now.” As Nealy pulled one from a grocery bag at her feet, she saw Mat’s frown and knew he was about to announce that they didn’t have time. “Lucy and I are throwing a Frisbee,” she said firmly. “If you don’t like it, you can go to Iowa without us.”

Iowa
. As he gazed at her, the word seemed to hang between them like a particularly alluring sex toy. She remembered the box of condoms she’d slipped back into the pharmacy to buy because she couldn’t figure out how to ask Mat if he had any. Another new experience.

“Oh, goody . . .” Lucy muttered. “I get to throw around a freakin’ Frisbee.”

“Take these.” Nealy shoved a bag of food at her.

“You are sooo rude.”

“I know. And I like it.”

Mat smiled, then banged his elbow into a cupboard as he retrieved some soft drinks from the refrigerator. The motor home was too small for him, but he didn’t complain about it. She suspected he was accustomed to things being too small for him.

She swallowed hard, quickly handed over Button, and forced her one-track mind away from sex to contemplate her food choices. Would everyone like turkey sandwiches? She’d made them with Swiss cheese, but Lucy’d probably rather have American. The tortellini salad might be too exotic, and the precut baby carrots too plain. The chocolate cupcakes with panda faces had looked cute in the store, but both Mat and Lucy had stared at them when she’d taken them out of the sack. At least Button should like her special surprises.

The irony of fretting over a simple meal like this in light of all the elaborate White House social functions she’d overseen didn’t escape her. But this was so much more personal.

“Where do you want everything?” Mat asked as they stepped out into the midday sunshine beating down on the small park.

She pointed out a picnic table set in some shade not far from the playground, then smiled to herself as she thought about putting out Dixie plates instead of Lady Bird Johnson’s wildflower china. Lucy gazed toward the far edge of the parking lot where three teenage boys were cutting back and forth on their skateboards.

“Go watch while I set out the food.”

“Why should I watch a bunch of losers like that?”

“Because, if you’re lucky, one of them will break his leg, and then you can laugh at him.”

Lucy smiled. “You’re such a loser, Nell.”

“I know.” Impulsively, Nealy reached out to hug her. Lucy’s entire body went rigid, and Nealy immediately backed away. Lucy rubbed her arm and wandered off, not moving toward the boys, but not exactly moving away from them, either.

Mat set the baby in the grass, then popped a root beer. “What were the two of you talking about this morning?”

She frowned as Button started to prowl, but she knew if she mentioned anything about dirt, bugs, or dogs he’d ignore her. “Mainly whether or not Lucy should get her navel pierced.”

“Over my dead body.”

He sounded very much like a father. She began putting out the food. “I told her I definitely thought she should.”

“Why’d you tell her that?”

“Because a navel’s better than a nose or eyebrow. Besides, anything I’m in favor of she’ll automatically reject. Then we discussed whether I should get my ears done.”

“Your ears are already done.” He touched the small hole in her left lobe, lingering longer than he had to.

She cleared her throat. “According to Lucy, one pierce doesn’t count, and I should get another one in each ear.”

“You’re going to start wearing two earrings in each ear?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

He got the strangest expression on his face. It almost seemed like relief. “Maybe you’re not such a blue blood after all.”

She put out the carrots, and he started to sit down on the bench, only to have Button pull herself back up on him. He glanced toward a sandbox sitting a few yards away. “Come on, Demon.”

“The sand box? No, Mat. She’s too young. She’ll eat it.”

“After a bite or two, she’ll stop.” He hoisted the baby in his arms, tossed her once into the air, and carried her toward the sandbox, where two little boys were already playing.

“She’ll get dirty,” Nealy called out. “And sunburned.”

“It’s in the shade, and she’ll wash. You want to try out the sandbox, Demon?”

“Gah!”

“I thought so.” He dropped her in, then glanced toward the other children playing there. “May God have mercy on your souls.”

Keeping one eye on the baby, he moved back to the table to claim his root beer. “Panda-face cupcakes? Do we have little pointy hats to go with them? Hey, Demon, knock it off!” The baby was about to heave a plastic bucket at one of the other children.

“Go watch her while I finish putting the food out.”

He looked as if she’d asked him to poke needles in his eyes.

“And don’t call her Demon in front of the other kids,” she added. “They’ll tease her.”

He managed a pained smile and trudged off to supervise the sandbox.

The boys with the skateboards had disappeared, and Lucy came drifting back to the table. She sat down on the bench and began picking at the wood. Nealy knew something was on her mind, but if she asked what it was, Lucy would shut her off, so she waited.

The teenager glanced toward the sandbox, where Mat’s frown was intimidating all of the children except Button. “I guess Jorik’s not as much of a jerk as I first thought.”

“Well . . . he’s hardheaded and domineering. And
loud
—I don’t know how he has the nerve to complain about Button.” She smiled. “But I know what you mean.”

Lucy dug at the wood with her fingernail. “He’s pretty hot. I mean, older women like you probably think so.”

“He’ll do, and I’m not an older woman.”

“I think he likes you.”

Nealy replied slowly, “We get along all right.”

“No, I mean, I think he really likes you. You know.”

Nealy did know, but she wasn’t going to explain that the attraction was sexual.

“We’re just friends. That’s all.” Until they got to Iowa. Then they’d be lovers. If the White House didn’t find her first.

Lucy’s expression grew belligerent. “You could do a lot worse, you know. He drives a Mercedes sports car. A convertible.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. It’s really cool. Dark blue. I’ll bet he’s got gobs of money.”

“I don’t think steelworkers make gobs of money.” How could he afford a Mercedes? she wondered.

“Whatever. All I know is, you could probably have him if you wanted.”

“Have him?”

“You know . . . go out.” Lucy’s voice dropped to a mutter. “Get him to marry you or something.”

Nealy stared at her.

“Yeah . . . if you’d just, you know, fix yourself up or something. Wear a little more makeup. And get some clothes that aren’t so lame. He’d probably be a good husband and everything. I mean, he wouldn’t beat you up like that jerk you were married to.”

Nealy felt something inside her melt in the face of Lucy’s earnestness, and she sat down so she could look right at her. “There’s a lot more to marriage than finding a husband who won’t beat you up. Good marriages are based on companionship and mutual interests. You want to marry somebody who’s a friend, not just a lover. Someone who . . .” Pain hit her in a dizzying wave. She’d done exactly that, and her marriage had been a mockery.

Lucy regarded her sulkily. “You two’ve got mutual interests. You both like talking, and good manners, and crap like that. And you both like Button.” She picked at the wood sliver. “You might, you know . . .”—she drew a deep breath—“decide to adopt her or something.”

Nealy finally understood what this conversation was about, and it broke her heart. She didn’t care whether Lucy wanted to be touched or not. She reached across the table and cupped her hand. “Oh, Luce . . . Mat and I aren’t going to get together, not the way you want. I’m sorry. We can’t make a home for Button or for you.”

Lucy shot up from the table as if Nealy had struck her. “Like I’d want to live with either one of you. You’re so fucking pathetic!”

“Lucy!” Mat came storming toward them with Button tucked under his arm. His expression was angry, and he shot one hand toward Mabel. “Get in there.”

“No, Mat . . . it’s all right.” Nealy rose, trying to stem his anger.

Button began to whimper.

“It’s not all right.” He gave Lucy a blistering look. “You’re not going to talk to Nell like that. If you want to act like a brat, you can do it by yourself. Now get going.”

“Fuck you, too!” Lucy stomped off through the grass toward Mabel.

Mat clenched his fist. “I want to hit her.”

“Lucy can be maddening, but I think—”

“No, you don’t understand. I really want to hit her.”

Button looked up at him, eyes wide, lower lip beginning to tremble. He set her to his shoulder and patted her back. His expression was troubled. “It’s what I used to do with my sisters when I was a kid.”

“Did you?” She was torn between listening to him and going to Lucy. If only he’d been more patient with her instead of flying off like that.

“They used to enrage me, just like Lucy did, and when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I’d haul off and slug them. A couple of times I left bruises on their arms. I’m no damned good at this. It’s why I hate being around kids so much.” He shifted Button to his other shoulder.

“You hit them?” She watched Button poke a wet finger into his ear canal. “How old were you?”

“Ten. Eleven. Old enough to know better, that’s for sure.”

Not all that old. But Nealy knew nothing about relationships between brothers and sisters. “Did you keep hitting them as you grew older?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Of course not. I started to play hockey instead and took out my anger on the ice. During the summer, I boxed a little. Looking back on it, I think sports saved my sisters’ lives.”

“So you didn’t keep hitting them?”

“No, but I sure wanted to. Just like now. She’s such a brat.”

“She’s having a hard time. And wanting to hit her isn’t the same thing as doing it. I don’t think you have to worry too much about being a batterer.”

He looked as if he were going to argue, but at the moment she was too concerned about Lucy to listen. “I’d better go talk to her.”

“No. She’ll wrap you around her finger. I’ll do it.”

“Wait a minute! You need to know what—”

“Save it. There aren’t any excuses for that kind of behavior.” He passed Button over to her and set off for the motor home.

As Nealy watched him go, the baby twisted in her arms and started to cry. Nealy stared glumly at the table of uneaten food. So much for her wonderful picnic.

Lucy lay face down on the bed, with her fist crushing her heart. She hated him! She hated them both. She wished she’d gotten hit by a car and gone into a coma. Then they’d be sorry for the way they treated her.

She clenched her fist tighter and squeezed her eyes shut against her tears. She was being such a brat that she couldn’t even stand herself. It was no wonder they hated her. Nell had just been trying to be nice. Why did she always have to screw everything up?

The door of the motor home banged and Mat charged in. Now she was really going to get it. She didn’t want him to see her lying on the bed slobbering, so she got up real quick and sat on the edge.

She wondered if he’d hit her. Sandy’d never hit her, not even when she was drunk, but Trent had once.

Mat came stomping back to the bedroom. She sat up straighter and got ready to face him. “I’m sorry!” she yelled before he could yell at her. “That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?”

He just looked at her, and the expression on his face made her want to cry all over again. He looked really mad, but he looked disgusted, too, like she’d really disappointed him.

He looked like a dad.

She bit her lip so she didn’t start crying and thought about all those years she’d dreamed about him. She used to write his name in her notebooks and whisper it as she fell asleep at night. Mathias Jorik. Her dad.

She’d grown up knowing he wasn’t her real father. Sandy’d never lied to her about that. Her real dad had been a student at Carnegie Mellon Sandy had met in a bar one night and never seen again. Sandy didn’t even remember his name. She’d always said that, in her heart, Mat was Lucy’s dad.

She’d heard lots of stories about Mat while she was growing up. How he and Sandy had met. How cute and smart he’d been. How nice he’d treated her, even though he didn’t have any money because he was only twenty-one and he’d just graduated from college.

Lucy’d always dreamed that he didn’t care that Lucy wasn’t his kid. She’d imagined him telling her mother,
That’s okay, Sandy. It’s not like it’s the baby’s fault that you got pregnant or anything, and I already love her just like she’s mine
.