Madam President (26 page)

“Do whatever you have to do to get her through the rest of the day. If she needs to go home, I understand, but it would be helpful to have a press secretary tonight,” she said coolly.

Peter nodded.

Charlotte contemplated telling him that her heart was breaking into so many pieces she wasn’t sure she could get through the next ten minutes, not to mention the next two hours. She considered pulling him further into the hallway and clinging to him tearfully simply to experience his embrace. Part of her wanted to know what it would feel like to let go of the ball of pain she’d been holding on to so tightly all day. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d allowed him to see her in pain. She wasn’t even sure that she still knew how to show him that side of her or to lean on him if he had thought to offer. She stood there for a moment longer, waiting for him to ask her how she was or touch her or say something to her about how brave she was and how proud he was of her. He didn’t do any of those things. Eventually, she murmured something about keeping her posted about Dale and then turned around and walked slowly back toward the Oval Office with Cammie underfoot.

CHAPTER FORTY

Melanie

B
rian, can you hear me?”

“Barely. I’ve got another live shot on Charlotte’s press conference in five minutes. Can I call you back?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait five minutes?”

“I don’t think it can wait. Brian, walk outside for me.”

“Mel, what’s going on?”

“Just tell me when you’re in a place where no one can hear you.”

“Hang on.”

Melanie heard him explain to his producer that he had to take a call outside. It sounded like she asked him if he’d be back for his live shot.

“I’ll be back,” Melanie heard him say. “I’m walking out the door. I’m passing the smokers. A sniper might mistake me for an intruder, but I am alone and out of earshot now. What’s going on?”

Melanie was scared to tell Brian. She didn’t know how he’d take the news, and she was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to do his job afterward.

“Do you have a break after this live shot? A longer break?”

“No. I don’t have any breaks, Mel. I am on the air every five
minutes with whatever scrap of information I can get.” He sounded stressed.

“Brian, listen to me. I have to tell you something terrible.”

“What?”

“It’s Warren. He went down to the Mall after the first explosion. He was helping the first responders, and he was right there when the second bomb exploded.”

“Where? He was right where? Mel, why are you crying? What happened to Warren? I can’t understand you.”

“He died. He died in the second explosion. Warren died.” Melanie was choking on her own sobs now.

“Oh, my God, my poor wife. I’m so sorry that I’m not there, honey.”

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you, honey. Dammit. I wish I was with you. Try to calm down.”

“What was he even doing down there?” Melanie couldn’t stop crying.

“I don’t know, sweets, I don’t know. Knowing him, he probably found it unbearable to sit and watch all of the carnage on television, so he went down to help.”

“I’m so mad at him. I wish he’d just stayed in his office. Why couldn’t he just have stayed in his office like everyone else?”

“Mel, listen to me. Warren would be so pissed if he knew that you were this upset.”

Melanie cried harder.

“Mel, is there a doctor on the trip? Did you tell the doctor? Let me talk to the doctor. I want you to lie down. Do you promise me that you’ll lie down for a few minutes?”

“I’m OK. I was scared about telling you.”

“I’m fine, Mel. I want you to take care of yourself.”

“I will. I promise. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m going to try not to think about it until we’re together, Mel. This is going to sink in for both of us over the next few days, and we’ll deal with it then. I don’t want you to worry about me. Will you promise me that you will not worry about me? Just get home and
take care of yourself, and don’t get too upset. We’ll deal with this together.”

Melanie sniffled.

“Do his parents know yet?” Brian asked.

“Charlotte is calling them now.”

“They’re here. They came to see Warren. They were going to meet Dale tonight. Does Dale know?”

“Peter just told her.”

“When?”

“While the president was briefing you guys.”

“Was that your idea?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a couple of minutes. Melanie blew her nose.

“Don’t you have another live shot?” she asked.

“I have a few minutes,” Brian assured her.

“I worked on Charlotte’s speech for tonight.”

“Charlotte’s lucky to have you.”

“How’s the mood there?”

“Safe to say that it’s about to get worse.”

“Because of Warren?”

“And the CNN crew.”

“Right.”

“Listen, there’s something else that Warren would want.”

“What?”

“Warren would want you to focus on Charlotte today.”

“I know.”

“Wait a minute. Is she waiting for you to get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“She announced that she was addressing the nation at eleven. Is that so you’ll be there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I can’t imagine that’s why she delayed the address.”

“I’m willing to bet you it is.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“You promised not to worry about me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Melanie hung up and felt relieved. She’d get through the rest of the day. But did Charlotte really schedule the speech so that she would be there?

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Dale

D
ale could hear people around her speaking in low voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if she was underwater and they were standing at the edge of a pool or bathtub waiting for her to lift her head above its surface. Every time she tried to focus on the conversations around her, Peter’s words replayed in her mind, and she was plunged deeper underwater.

He didn’t make it,
Peter had said.

That was the part of the story that still felt like a lie.

She understood that shortly after she last spoke to him, Warren had gone down to the site of the bombing. It didn’t surprise her that he’d wanted to help with the recovery effort; Dale could even picture him rushing to help the victims. And she couldn’t help but wonder if the universe was exacting its revenge on her for her attempted infidelity.

But the rest of it was incomprehensible. Warren had survived the wars. He’d come home from Iraq and Afghanistan and had thrived in D.C. He wasn’t one of those people who rose to professional and social heights for the purpose of reveling in access or status. Warren was oblivious to those sorts of things. Warren was bright and warm, and everyone flourished in his presence. And he’d loved Dale in a way that made her feel normal. Every other relationship she’d ever been in
had left her feeling broken. Being loved by Warren had made her feel like she could have a happily ever after just like everyone else.

He didn’t make it.

She knew that Warren had wanted their relationship to grow more serious. He’d never pushed, but he made it no secret that he imagined a future with her in it. When they encountered couples with young children, Warren could barely contain his longing to have a family of his own. His face would grow serious, and he’d pull her in for a kiss and whisper something about how beautiful her children would be. She always kissed him back, but she usually made a joke about what a horrible mother she’d make. No one else had ever made her feel like she could bring another life into the world and take care of it and love it.

He didn’t make it.

Dale had often worried that Warren loved her too much. She shouldn’t have. Warren had made clear over and over again that he was happy to be with her in whatever kind of relationship she was ready for. He told her that she was the one he’d been waiting for.

He didn’t make it.

Dale noticed that the conversations had stopped, and everyone was looking at her. Had someone asked her a question? She looked at Peter for guidance. He placed an arm on her shoulders and leaned closer to her.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m OK.”

“You know Violet, Charlotte’s makeup artist?” Peter offered.

“Hiya, darlin’, how are you doing?” Violet had a pleasant accent. It wasn’t quite a Southern accent, but it definitely had a twang.

“I’m a mess,” Dale acknowledged.

“We’re gonna fix you up, sugar.” Dale watched as Violet unpacked her makeup bag on the counter in the medical unit next to the bright orange box marked “biohazard.”

“Sugar, can I put this cape on you so I don’t get makeup on your pretty dress?”

Dale nodded. Violet worked methodically. First, she poured makeup remover onto a Q-tip and wiped it under Dale’s eyes.

“We’re gonna start with a clean slate,” Violet said, more to herself than to Dale. She opened a bottle of clear liquid and poured a quarter-sized dollop onto her palm. “This serum is gonna calm your skin down so it looks nice again,” she soothed.

Next, Dale watched Violet open three different tubes of undereye concealer and examine them closely. She scraped off a chunk from each stick and mixed the chunks together on the back of her hand. With an egg-shaped sponge, Violet started working the makeup onto Dale’s face. When she was done with the concealer, she moved on to foundation. She poured dime-sized dollops from two bottles onto a small mirror and mixed them with a fresh sponge. Then she dabbed the beige lotion onto Dale’s face until her entire face was one color. Violet lined Dale’s eyes with black liquid eyeliner and covered her eyelids with four different shades of brown. She brushed mascara onto Dale’s upper and lower lashes and then stood back to admire her work.

“You have eyes again, my dear.”

Dale forced a smile. “Thanks, Violet.”

“All you need now are cheeks and lips, and then you’re good as new.”

Dale sat quietly and watched Violet apply several different shades of pink to her cheeks. She used a different brush to sweep bronzer under her cheekbones and above her brows.

“Smile for me, sugar.”

Dale forced the corners of her lips upward while Violet expertly applied lip liner.

She added a gooey drop of lip gloss in the center of her lower lip and ordered Dale to rub her lips together.

“You look gorgeous!” she exclaimed.

“Thank you, Violet,” Peter said.

“Thank you,” Dale said again.

“I’m just gonna blow out your hair a little bit, and then we’re done.”

Dale sat silently while Violet folded sections of her hair over a round brush and blew hot and then cold air over them until her strands yielded to Violet’s will.

“Just a touch of shine, and you’re set.”

“Thank you,” Dale repeated.

“My pleasure, sugar. Call me if you need a touch-up.”

While Violet was packing up her supplies, the president’s physician sat down in a chair next to Dale.

“Do you feel like you can go back to the press office, or would you rather rest here a little longer?”

“I think it will be helpful to get back to work,” Dale said.

The doctor stared intently at Dale’s now-made-up face. “I’d like to suggest that you make contact with your parents and ask them to come here if that’s possible so that you have an around-the-clock support network as the news sinks in,” he added.

Dale nodded. She had no plans to ask her parents to come stay with her. “If I start to feel like it’s more than I can handle to be out there, I’ll come back here.”

The doctor’s eyes took in her shaky hands. “I think it’s possible that you’re still in shock. And what I’m concerned about is that the stress of your job could expedite the process of the shock wearing off. When it does, it’s likely that it will be replaced by the sort of grief that most of us like to experience in the privacy of our own homes, surrounded by loved ones.”

He looked at Peter. Peter looked uncomfortable.

“I know what you’re saying, but it’s not like I’m going to be too far away from all of you. If I walk out there and start to lose it, you have my permission to remove me from the premises.” She tried to joke.

Peter didn’t smile.

Dale was trying to show them that fragments of her sense of humor were still intact. It was almost eight
P
.
M
., and the press would be crawling the walls of the briefing room by now. She was sure Marguerite was at her wits’ end.

“Do his parents know?” Dale asked Peter.

“Charlotte was calling them right after the press briefing, so I assume they know by now.”

Dale nodded.

“If you’re up for it, I thought I’d invite Marguerite over, and she could bring you up to speed. The press has been told that you were
tapped to work on a very small team to draft the president’s speech for tonight,” Peter explained.

“Whose idea was that?”

“I think it was Melanie’s.”

“Does Marguerite know about Warren?”

Peter nodded and dialed her number from the landline in the medical unit. “She’ll be right over,” he reported.

“Great.” Dale tried to smile.

“Do you want something to eat?” Peter asked.

Dale made a face and shook her head.

“I’d like you to try to drink some water,” the doctor urged.

Dale took a sip from the bottle he handed her and patted her pockets for her BlackBerry and iPhone.

“You were briefing, remember?” Peter reminded her.

“Right.”

A minute later, Marguerite rushed in and handed Dale her BlackBerry and iPhone.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah. I’m OK.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s not do this,” Dale begged.

“Fine with me,” Marguerite said, looking up at Peter and the White House doctor for guidance.

“Why don’t you bring Dale up to speed here and then make your way back to the press office? Call us in an hour, and let us know how everything is going,” the doctor suggested.