36. The Road Back
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Rod heard a keycard in the door of his Broadmoor suite and looked up from his desk where he'd been working. "Hey, sweetheart," he said as Becca came into view. Her hair was pulled back and she was still wearing her Team USA warm-ups. He'd flown in on Tuesday night to support her during tryouts for the national under-21 team. She'd been kept so busy they had only a few minutes to talk, which was both a blessing and a curse. Things were awkward between them. He hated it, but didn't know how to change it. It was still too soon, and he was still too conflicted.
She put down her duffel bag and sank into one of the sofas. "Hi."
He looked at his watch and saw it was almost one o'clock. Work had been his savior these past weeks. Immersing himself in the law got him through the days and at least partially through the nights. But forgetting Mac was proving a near impossible task. "How'd you get here? I thought you were going to call."
She shrugged. "We finished early so I got a cab. I just couldn't stay around the training facility one minute more. The girls were driving me crazy…. I just needed some space. That's okay, isn't it?"
"And here I've been feeling guilty because you don't have a bunch of sisters to keep you company."
"Yikes!" She gritted her teeth. "That would be a nightmare."
He took off his reading glasses and joined her. "You played really well this morning. How did you feel about it?" He loved watching her play. On the soccer field she was completely at home and absolutely fearless.
"Pretty good," she agreed. "But the altitude is a bear and I'm beat. Can I hang out here with you? I'm free until six."
"Do you really think you need to ask?" he gently reprimanded, hearing the tentativeness in her voice. He pulled her in for a hug but quickly released her. "You stink!"
"Sorry," she said shyly. "I left straight after conditioning. I was counting on a long soak in your Jacuzzi tub."
"You were, huh? Well, help yourself. I certainly won't be needing it," he told her with a sigh.
She looked at her father and was slammed in the face with what she'd been pretending not to see. He'd lost weight and there was no light in his eyes. She'd never seen him like this before. She'd been too young to understand what it must have been like for him after mom died. But she could see what it was like for him now. She hadn't been able to forget her conversations with Cooper and Mac last weekend. She'd even brought the resignation letter from Mac with her because in her heart she knew Coop was right: Dad was trying hard, but he was miserable; and it was all her fault. She took a deep breath before doing what she knew was right. "Dad, I saw Cooper and Mac last weekend when they were in town. Cooper said something… Well, he made me…"
"I'm not doing this again, Rebecca. It's over. Go take that bath." There was no point revisiting their conversation in Greenwich when she'd made her feelings about Mackenzie and their relationship perfectly clear. He stood and returned to the desk. However, watching his daughter slowly pick up her duffel bag, shoulders hunched, he felt guilty about the harshness in his voice and the way he'd cut her off. He hadn't intended to take out his frustrations on her. It wasn't her fault. It was simply the way it was; and somehow he had to accept that and let go of what could not be. "You hungry?" he asked, reaching for her hand as she walked past the desk.
She looked down at their joined hands and nodded. "Starved."
"How about room service?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"Thanks, Dad."
The relief in her voice was a tangible reminder of his daughter's sensitivity. As she walked into the other room he called out, "Rebecca?"
She turned.
"I love you… and I'm proud of you."
She smiled. "Me, too. Thanks for being here. I always play better when you're around."
"Kiddo, you and Cooper are my world, where else would I be?"
XXXXXXXXXX
An hour later the two of them were eating a late lunch in the suite when Rod's phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D. "It's your brother," he told her. "He probably wants to know how you're playing. He loves you, you know."
"I know."
Rod accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. "Hey, bud," he said into the receiver. "What's up?"
"Dad, we're going to the WTO thing and she's really sick. Has to have an operation and the Service wants it in a military…. But she can't…."
"Slow down, son. You're not making sense." He spoke with far more calmness than he felt. "Take a deep breath and talk to me. Where are you and what's wrong with Mackenzie?"
"We're on the plane and she suddenly doubled over. It's bad, Dad. She looks awful. She's as white as a ghost and in a ton of pain."
"What is it? Do they know?"
"Acute appendicitis."
"Is she conscious?" He stood and began to pace around the room.
"She's on the phone with Mr. Gardner."
"What does Dr. Brock say? He's there, right?"
"Yeah. He says she needs surgery immediately, wants us to land now."
"So what's the problem?"
"The Secret Service. They say it's not safe, not secure I mean."
"Where are you now?"
"Over Nebraska, but Offutt Air Force Base doesn't really have a hospital so the Secret Service wants Oklahoma or Kansas. Dr. Brock says she can't wait. But nobody's listening. They're just arguing over where to land. It's crazy. Dad, she's septic…."
Rod felt that ice cold dread fill his veins. He took a deep breath and said, "It will be okay, son. I'll handle it. Where's Agent Stanley?" Jensen Stanley was the head of PPD and always accompanied Mac on her travels.
"He's not here. Broke his leg in a training exercise last week."
He raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. He shouldn't intervene. It wasn't his place. But if he did nothing and something were to happen…. He couldn't live with the regret. "Put me on with the lead agent."
"Yes, sir."
A minute later a new voice came on the phone. "Agent Johnson."
"This is Rod Calloway. Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, Judge."
"Good. Because I'm going to give you orders and I expect them to be followed to the letter. The President's life is at stake and right now I don't give a damn about security protocol. You got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. First, you tell Colonel Davidson to land at Offutt A.S.A.P. I want an ambulance and a motorcade ready and waiting. I also want the nearest Level I trauma center put on immediate alert and made ready for your arrival with their best surgical team on standby. You ask Dr. Brock what he needs and you make it happen. He's the one in charge. What he says goes. No questions asked. As for security precautions, you do the best you can. Are we clear, Agent Johnson?"
"Yes, sir."
There was a momentary pause before Cooper came back on the line. "Dad?"
Rod took a deep breath. "How is she?"
"She's still on the phone. Talking about Templeton, I think, and what happens if he chooses to become Acting President. Dad, she can barely speak. But she won't take any pain medication."
He'd completely forgotten about Vice-President Keaton's resignation. "What a nightmare," he muttered to himself, knowing that regardless of how much pain she was in, the only thing on Mac's mind would be the welfare of the country. She needed someone to protect her from herself; and it should have been him.
"Dr. Brock looks worried—really worried."
Rod was terrified, too. But he couldn't say so. He had to reassure his son. "When we hang up, you tell Brock that you're landing at Offutt and that the Secret Service has been instructed that he's in charge. I also want you to keep me posted every step of the way."
"Okay. But you're coming, aren't you?"
Rod momentarily closed his eyes. Clenching his fist, he replied, "I can't."
"Dad, she needs you. You have to be here."
"Dammit, Junior!" he yelled. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I want to be there for her? But I can't. It would only hurt her more in the end."
"Screw Becca, Dad. I know what septic means. It means she could die."
He took a deep breath. "Listen to me, son," he said calmly. "She's going to be okay. This is not like your mom, you hear me? Not like your mom. Dr. Brock is an excellent doctor and he'll take good care of her."
"Okay. But Dad…."
"Cooper," Rod interrupted, "you know I'd give anything to change things and to be there with her, but I can't. Not without causing her more pain. So I need you to be there instead. I need you to be strong. Okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now I want you to hang up the phone and tell Dr. Brock what I told you. I also want you to tell Mackenzie not to worry, and that I'll call Kate and let her know what's happening." He wanted desperately to speak with her. He needed to hear her voice, and there was so much he wanted to be able to say to her. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to offer his love when they couldn't be together.
"Yes, sir."
Rod hung up the phone and began to say a silent prayer as he stared out the window, his breath uneven and his heart racing. She had to be okay…. Letting her go was hard enough, but the thought of losing her completely was unbearable. He should have spoken to Colonel Davidson and Brock himself. "Please, God," he said quietly. "Get her the help she needs quickly. Don't let anything happen to her."
"Dad?"
He turned around.
"Is Mackenzie okay?"
He sighed. "It's her appendix, honey. Sounds to me like it may have burst. It's serious. She needs surgery immediately. They're landing in Omaha." He removed his phone from his pocket. "I need to call Kate."
"Dad, you should go."
Rod stopped dialing. "I can't. I'll only hurt her more. I can't come in and out of her life. It wouldn't be fair."
Becca shook her head. "No, Dad. You need to go. It's what I was trying to tell you before."
"You mean?"
"Yeah…" she nodded.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Come sit down," he told her with a gentle squeeze. When they were seated on one of the sofa's he said, "Bec, I appreciate the gesture—I really do. But I know how you feel. You don't have to do this, it'll be okay."
"No, it won't. I've done a lot of thinking and it was selfish of me…. Well, Coop's right. You're not okay. You're miserable. You need to go."
He reached out and stroked her cheek. "Sweetheart, are you sure?"
She nodded. "Dad, she makes you happy."
"Yes, she does. But I meant what I told you before. You and Cooper come first."
"I know. But you should be happy, too. So I want you to go."
"What about tryouts?"
"Dad, I'm fine. Go. She needs you." She walked over to her duffel bag and pulled out the resignation letter. Handing it to him, she said, "Give this to her, okay?"
He looked at the envelope embossed with the "The White House" in the top left corner. "What is this?"
"Just give to her, okay?"
"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "Bec, are you sure about this? Because if you're not…."
"Go, Dad. I'm sure."
Smiling he asked, "Will you pack for me while I call Kate and Cooper and figure out the quickest way to get to Omaha?"
"Yeah," she said. "But you'll probably have to charter a plane or an Air Force jet. Colorado Springs isn't exactly a transportation mecca. Neither is Omaha."
"I know," he sighed.
XXXXXXXXXX
Rebecca was proven to be right. By far the quickest means of getting from Colorado Springs to Omaha was to charter a jet. By the time Rod had packed and driven to the airport the plane had arrived from Denver. As he climbed aboard he recognized again how lucky he was to have the financial means available to make such a journey.
His two pilots and a young, eager flight attendant, who offered him a seductive smile before she stowed his luggage, greeted him. He forced a smile in return and chose a forward facing seat where he could stare out the window. As he settled into his seat, he breathed deeply. It was like a crazy dream: Mac's illness. Rebecca's decision. The only other time he could remember experiencing such acute exhilaration mixed with overpowering anxiety was when he'd learned about the twins. He'd felt the same way when he'd learned Lauren was pregnant with their younger daughter whom they'd planned on naming Elizabeth. But his joy in that instance was short-lived and soon eclipsed by worry, fear, and ultimately by emptiness. He shivered, and then said another silent prayer for Mackenzie. He couldn't lose her—couldn't go through that grief again.
"Judge Calloway?"
He turned to see the same young, eager flight attendant, still wearing the same provocative smile, leaning towards him, hand on the back of his chair. "Can I get you something to drink before take-off?"
"No, thank you. I won't need anything." He couldn't eat or drink anything—not now, and he was in no mood for flirtation, harmless though it may be. He only wanted one thing: Mackenzie safe and in his arms. He didn't wait for a reply but returned to staring out the window.
Throughout take-off and their ascent to cruising altitude, a war raged in his head. His logical, rational left-brain constantly prompted him that Mac would get the absolute best medical care, even under such unexpected circumstances; and that she was strong… and stubborn. However, these repeated reminders could not quell the fearful imaginings that currently dominated the right side of his brain. Meanwhile, his heart continued to pound so loudly that he was convinced he could also hear its beating in his head, too.
He closed his eyes and took deliberate breaths. Eventually it all quieted and his thoughts drifted back to their beginning—back to when they were simply "Rod" and "Mac." From the moment they met, she'd captivated him and commanded his heart, mind and body. For a moment he panicked. After all that had happened between them—all he'd recently put her through—would she take him back? But he knew in his soul that she was his, just as he knew he would never let her go again—regardless of what obstacles may yet come against them. Restless and anxious to get to her, he began to make plans.
His grandmother would be especially happy. He smiled as he recalled that long ago conversation between them the day after his second date with Mackenzie. He'd driven home from New Haven to watch Christopher's first freshman football game at Greenwich High School. After they'd returned home and had lunch, his grandmother cajoled him into joining her for one of her famous "walk and talks."
September 3, 1994
"My boy, tell me about law school," Nana asked as they walked towards the patio adjacent to the boat dock.
"It's hard," he admitted. "A lot harder than I thought it would be—and I expected it to be tough."
She stopped and looked him over. "But you love it…."
"Yeah," he acknowledged with a nod. "I do."
"Your father will be terribly disappointed," she told him as they again resumed their walk.
He didn't need to be told. He was well aware of what his Dad thought about his decision to pursue law over business. He could handle his father's disappointment, but not hers. "Are you disappointed?" he asked.
As if she could sense his anxiety, she pointed to a bench at the edge of his mother's rose garden. "Come over here." When they were seated she lovingly touched his knee and told him, "The bank is not the place for you—although you would excel there. You have your grandfather's gift… and we taught you well."
He chuckled. "Yes, you did. I just wish Dad understood," he added with a sigh.
"He will," she told him confidently. "But Roderic, though he's struggling with your choice of career, never doubt his love for you, or the respect he has for you in choosing to be your own man."
"Yeah…"
"And until he does understand, I'll keep reminding him that it could have been much, much worse." With a knowing twinkle in her eye and the timing of a comedienne, she added, "You could have chosen to make the Army your career."
He smiled. "Three years was enough."
"More than enough," she informed him, all traces of humor instantly gone from her voice, "though we're all proud of you for choosing that sacrifice."
He nodded his thanks. He'd learned many lessons during his time in the Army, but most of them were intensely private.
"Now," his grandmother continued, "tell me about this woman who has put that unmistakable light in your eyes and spring in your step."
"What?" he questioned. He was shocked. He hadn't told anyone about Mackenzie. How could she possibly know?
"Junior, I'm old, but not that old. And I'm certainly not blind. You are in love. If I had to venture a guess, this is no passing fancy. She's the one, isn't she?"
He felt his face redden; and yet he wasn't embarrassed. If anything, he was more certain. "Yes, she is. Her name is Mackenzie. She's a third-year. We met the first day of class. She's beautiful, Nana… and brilliant and challenging. She's not sure about me yet—or us. But I am." He sighed. "But somehow I will convince her to become my wife." Suddenly the magnitude of his words hit him and he panicked. "Am I crazy? Is it really possible to fall irrevocably in love in an instant?"
Rebecca smiled at him. "'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'"
"Shakespeare?" he guessed.
"As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 5."
"Do you think he was right?" he asked, desperately hoping that such a thing was possible.
She nodded. "I do. It was that way for your grandfather and your father at just your age, in fact. For me, too. And your mother, I think." She took the diamond ring off her left hand and gave it to him. "You know that your grandfather gave me this ring on our 25th wedding anniversary. You are his namesake and my joy in life. I'd like you to give this to Mackenzie when you decide to propose."
Speechless, he stared first at the ring held gently between his fingers and then at her. She'd worn this ring all his life and never took it off. "Nana, I can't take this…. Papa gave it to you. You love it."
"And he would want you to have it…. I want you to have it."
"But…," he began to protest but she cut him off.
"Roderic, I'm not doing this on a whim. It's something I've planned on since you were just a little boy. If Mackenzie doesn't like it, then save it for your son or daughter someday. But I hope she'll see in it what I do. Most of all, I hope it will come to symbolize for the two of you the same love shared by your grandfather and me every day of our life together. A love you've also witnessed in your parents." When she finished there were tears in her eyes.
"Thank you, Nana." His voice sounded hoarse and he felt tears threaten to pour from his own eyes. He hugged her close. She whispered in his ear, "I love you, my boy, and I expect to meet Mackenzie soon."
Afterwards she held his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. Then with that familiar hint of mischief in her eyes she asked, "Can I give you one more piece of advice from Mr. Shakespeare?"
He smiled.
"'She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won.'"
"Sound advice, particularly for Mackenzie," he acknowledged. "Let me guess. Romeo and Juliet? Taming of the Shrew?"
She shook her head. "Henry VI Part I."
Rod wiped a tear from his eye as the plane began its initial descent and his thoughts returned to the present. He chuckled at how young and naïve he was then, and how uncomplicated life had been. But the central themes from their conversation—the truths symbolized in that ring—were as true today as they were those many years ago. Of course back then he could not have imagined a life without Mackenzie. But life had chosen other plans for each of them; and throughout the intervening years, he never could have imagined a life with her. But then life had changed its mind and brought him full circle, back to Mackenzie… before he'd nearly lost her again. With a determined brow he made a silent promise that nothing would ever come between them again; and then he prayed that soon she would again be safe in his arms.