First Lady (3 page)
Then there was the on-again-off-again turmoil that surrounded Lauren’s presence in her life. Her own party had nearly deserted her when her business relationship with Lauren had deepened and turned decidedly romantic. Lauren, however, wasn’t ready to quit as Dev’s biographer and Starlight Publishing had saved the day by buying out the party’s contract for Lauren’s services. Now, she was trying to juggle a new relationship and three children, while running a nation. God, no wonder I’m tired.
Dev’s first year in office had been a roller coaster, and there were days when she felt like she was going to be thrown from her seat. President Truman had said, “Being president is like riding a tiger,” and Dev couldn’t agree more. She made sure to count her fingers every night to see that none had been bitten off.
It was no wonder that the dream started the way it did…
Dev was in her office pouring over the speech she was about to give. David was pacing nervously around her office, while various aides made sure she knew exactly what points needed to be stressed and which should be glossed over.
“Would you sit down?” Dev growled in David’s direction. “You’re making me a nervous wreck.”
The tall, red-haired man grumbled and took a seat. He began chewing at his thick mustache in a way that Devlyn usually found endearing. At the moment, however, it was just plain annoying. When Dev looked closer, she realized he was also wearing a feather boa and a ridiculous hat. “I don’t care if they are in style, David. Get rid of it; you look hideous.”
The scene shifted; suddenly she was standing in the Capitol, outside the massive doors, waiting for the Sergeant at Arms to make the formal announcement of her arrival. Dev twitched at her skirt, wishing she’d selected a pair of trousers instead. As she stared at the doors, a small panel slid open and a very mischievous set of green eyes stared at her before asking, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“What?” Dev felt the panic rising in her chest.
The voice was impatient. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“Umm…” Dev stood dumbstruck, trying to figure out how to answer this question. “Depends on what day it is and if I’m PMSing,” she finally said, taking a step forward. She was late; she didn’t have time for this nonsense. “Now, let me in.”
“Bad witch,” the voice squeaked as the panel slammed shut and the eyes disappeared.
Dev looked around the hallway where she was waiting; it was empty, except for small wind-up monkeys, which skittered around the polished marble floor as they played their cymbals and drums. She tried to shake the vision, but they only got bigger as they came at her. Just as she felt she was about to be attacked by the mechanical monsters, the doors flew open and she stumbled into a room full of laughing people.
People laughing at her.
“Aw, shit,” she muttered as she fought to maintain her balance. “This is my worst nightmare.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that indeed this was a nightmare, and she watched with fascination as face after face in her dream shifted and changed, morphing into an entirely new person each time. They were all there — everyone who had ever meant anything to her.
Her parents, her children, Lauren, her staff, everyone.
Very soon they all became a blur and the room felt like it was spinning out of control. Colors flashed as the spinning got worse and voices blurred into a single white noise that nearly drove Dev to her knees.
Suddenly, the spinning stopped and there was but a single, hauntingly familiar voice.
“Dev?”
The tall woman spun around to find Samantha standing a few feet away wearing a beautiful, flowing gown made of white silk. She was an angel, and the sight of her brought tears to Dev’s eyes.
Her throat felt dry and her tongue heavy. “Samantha?” She took a hesitant step forward.
“Why, Dev?” Samantha’s eyes held the bewilderment of a child, but her warm voice was all
woman
.
“Why what?”
Dev tried to step closer to the radiant vision of her deceased wife, but her feet felt as though they were encased in cement.
”Why are you leaving me?”
A sudden stabbing pain in Dev’s chest made it hard to breathe. “I’m not leaving you. I love you.”
“Then why are you marrying her?” Samantha pointed and Dev looked over her own shoulder to find Lauren standing behind her.
Lauren was wearing a pair of faded jeans, no shoes or socks, and a soft white cotton shirt. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was slightly mussed from running her fingers through it, and she had a pencil tucked above her ear — the way she did when she was working.
She smiled gently at Dev, the action creasing the skin around her eyes and making Dev’s heart feel as though it might burst.
“Dev?”
Samantha’s smooth voice prodded.
“I- I- I…” Dev sputtered and shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn’t know what to say.
She told herself this was just a dream,
then
watched with a slightly open mouth as Samantha floated over to Lauren and hovered next to her.
The two loves of her life stood very close to each other, but not touching. Dev looked for it, but couldn’t see any animosity between them.
“It’s all right, Devlyn,” Lauren drawled gently. Her eyes shone with understanding and love. “No matter what, you can tell us the truth.”
Dev nodded and shifted her attention to Samantha. “No matter how much I love you… loved you… you’re gone, Sam.” Her smile was bittersweet.
“I’m marrying Lauren because I need to get on with my life and because I love her. She’s my future.”
The words were still hanging in the air when Lauren vanished into thin air and Samantha began to morph into Louis Henry, the teenage boy who had tried to assassinate her. Dev watched in horror as he raised his gun and pointed it at her head. Her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to move, but her feet were still rooted firmly to the ground. The sounds of gunshots exploded in her head, so loudly they hurt. Her hand flew to her ears, and then the scene changed again.
Dev was now standing before the joint session of Congress. The expectant, somewhat impatient look on everyone’s face made it clear she had been saying something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. She glanced around the huge gallery and felt a cold sweat across her upper lip. Her pulse began to thump wildly in her ears as the moment stretched on endlessly. Finally, in a near panic, she shouted, “I quit!”
Dev shot up in bed. She was twisted in the sweaty covers and breathing hard. She knew instantly that she’d been dreaming.
“Jesus Christ on a crutch.” After a moment of carefully sorting through the mental jumble, she was able to sigh in relief and even smile a little ruefully. “I’m cracking up.”
She started to settle back into Lauren’s bed when she realized she wasn’t alone. Glancing behind her, she found that Aaron had found his way there, too. She smiled and lay back next to her son, who curled up against his mother without ever waking. Guess I’m not the only one missing Lauren.
It was close to
when Lauren opened the door to her room, carrying her computer case and a small travel bag. Closing the door behind her, she was just about to flip on the light when she saw several lumps in her bed. She nearly screamed, but one lump in particular looked familiar. Setting down her luggage, she carefully crossed the room.
Devlyn, Christopher, and Aaron were practically lying in a pile on her bed, with Dev on the bottom. Ashley was resting crossways along the headboard with one leg on Christopher’s head and her arm on Aaron’s head. The 8-year-old was in her pink footie-pajamas and snoring nearly as loudly as Devlyn.
The Marlowes’ sleeping arrangements reminded Lauren of the puglies, Gremlin’s half-pugs, all of them such ugly puppies that Dev had cleverly given them away as “gifts” to her ex-friends and staff. But instead of a pile of canines, they were a pile of people, their limbs braided together and contorted bodies twisted around each other. Lauren questioned briefly how Chris could breathe with his sister’s leg draped over his face.
A smile worked its way across her face as she took in the scene. She marveled for the millionth time how she had lucked across an entire family who loved her. A little guiltily she realized that it had been two days since she’d called Devlyn, but far longer than that since she’d talked to any of the kids. Before the Marlowe children she’d never given parenthood a second thought. Then, without her knowing quite how, they’d wormed their way into her heart to stay.
Only she wasn’t as good at showing that yet as she wanted to be.
She would work to change that, she promised herself. They deserved that. No more trips this long, not alone at least. My publisher and everyone else can just go to hell.
Lauren stripped off her coat and clothes, slipping into a pair of thick sweat pants and a well-worn
“You’re home early.” Dev’s voice was rough with sleep.
Lauren walked around to where her lover was lying and pushed back a shock of dark hair to kiss her on the forehead, then she moved down and brushed her lips against Devlyn’s, humming into the sweet but brief contact. “I was missing you guys like crazy,” she whispered. “After the first few days I realized I was a hopeless case so I worked extra long so I could finish early. I didn’t want to say anything in case I couldn’t pull it off.” She gazed down fondly at Dev and quietly said, “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay…” Dev replied. She rolled over and pushed Christopher, and before Lauren’s eyes the pile of children shifted dramatically, but no one woke up. Dev opened her arms and Lauren eagerly fitted herself into the space that had been created just for her.
When their bodies touched, both women sighed.
“I’m so happy to be home,” Lauren said quietly, her eyes already closing. “I missed you all.”
“Not me,” Dev answered, feeling Lauren’s lips curl into a smile against the sensitive skin of her neck. “I didn’t miss you at all.
Same with the kids.
We hardly knew you were gone.”
“I can see that,” Lauren chuckled weakly, Dev’s words barely penetrating her tired brain.
“Welcome home, sweetheart.”
But a warm puff of air and Lauren’s gentle snore were Dev’s only answer.
*
*
*
DEV SAT BEHIND her desk in the Oval Office while Lauren was perched on one of the room’s two couches. The television news, with the sound so low it could barely be made out, was playing in the background, and the three-dimensional image of an anchorman hovered near the door.
They had already had their first two meetings, and now the women were enjoying a quiet breakfast together.
Almost.
The food had been delivered a half-hour ago and was still sitting untouched on the table while both women worked in their respective spots, Lauren compiling notes on what she’d observed and Devlyn reviewing several documents from the Secretary of Homeland Defense.
The smell of bacon was finally too much for Lauren to ignore. She set down the hand-held computer as she contemplated what she could safely eat considering she’d stopped working out with Devlyn in the mornings several weeks ago. The answer was nothing, so she promptly disregarded that conclusion and thought about something else. “Devlyn, your mother is going to kill us for foisting the wedding plans on her.”
“My mother will love it.” Dev signed her name again, wishing she had taken David up on his offer to get her a stamp for the less important documents. But no, she had to be a “President of the People” who signed every scrap of paper that came across her desk. I think David only listens to me on things like this to torture me.
He knows he knows best! “By the way, after we get married you get to sign off on all the kids’ report cards.”
Lauren stared at Dev. “What?”
“Never mind.”
She signed her name for the last time and stood up, taking a deep breath. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s eat. I’m starved and I’ve got another meeting in less than a half hour.”
Lauren joined Devlyn at the serving table. Once the coffee was poured and they were both back on one of the sofas, Dev gave the voice command to increase the volume of the newscast.
“Ooo, look who’s getting a spot on the news.”
She gestured as Lauren’s face appeared above the coat rack.
“Terrific,” Lauren mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. “I saw them when I ran into Geoffrey yesterday.” Her expression darkened.
“Assholes.”
Her short relationship with the media had already been a stormy one. “I should have figured a camera was on me.”
“You can never safely pick your nose again.”
“I would never!” She laughed, and then she winked.
“At least in public.
But the Republican Party Chairman doesn’t let the cameras stop him.”
