37. Don't Ever Do that Again
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Omaha, Nebraska
Rod exited the plane and was met on the tarmac by Agents Rivers and Jenkins. He greeted them briefly and climbed into the back seat.
"Thanks for picking me up," he told them as they left the airport on their way to the Nebraska Medical Center.
"No problem, sir," Jeffrey Rivers replied.
"The boss will be very glad to see you, sir," Jessica Jenkins added.
"How is she?" he asked.
"We haven't heard anything since she went into surgery forty minutes ago," Jeffrey answered through the rearview mirror.
"Forty minutes? That's it?" he questioned. It had been more than three hours since he'd spoken to Cooper the first time. He hadn't spoken to Mackenzie. He wanted her focus only on the surgery ahead; and he didn't want to disappoint her in case he was unavoidably delayed. "What happened, Jeffrey? Was there more delay in getting to Offutt?"
"No, sir. You took care of that problem," he replied with a smug smile.
"Sorry about that," Rod said. "I had no right to interfere."
"Sir," Agent Jenkins interrupted, turning in her seat to look at him, "You had every right."
"I really didn't," he insisted. "But I couldn't help myself. I had to do something."
"Sir," Jessica continued, "Sam Johnson is an ass. You did what you had to do. Often the rest of us forget the woman and see only the title. You never forget. I don't know what's been going on recently, and I may be out of line here, but she needs you, sir."
He met her gaze. "I'm not going anywhere, Jessica." He didn't say more. There was no need. Both of them clearly understood what remained unspoken between them: He hadn't been there for her today—not like she needed him to be. He was determined that would not happen again.
XXXXXXXXXX
Rod felt even more determined hours later when Mac was out of surgery and he was finally allowed to see her. Her appendix had in fact burst, spreading poison throughout her body. They'd come close to losing her. He was so relieved to see her. She was still in intensive care. He'd sent everyone else—Cooper included, to the hospital guest suites that had been prepared for them to get some sleep. The next few days were bound to be hectic for all of them. Templeton appeared to be making a mess of things and Mackenzie would be furious when she regained consciousness. "How is she, Kyle?" he asked Dr. Brock, who was checking the monitors attached to her.
"Her vitals are strong and her color is improving."
He walked around to the far side of her bed to see her better. Her color was improved? She looked ghostly pale to him. Her face was devoid of makeup and her hair was matted from the fever and surgical cap. Yet she remained utterly beautiful. "And the infection?" he asked.
"It's still a concern," the doctor acknowledged. "But she seems to be responding well to the antibiotics, and we both know how stubborn she is. She won't let this thing keep her down."
Rod smiled and picked up one of her hands. Gently securing it in between his own larger hands, he said, "I know my words are wholly inadequate, but thank you for saving her life."
Kyle shook his head. "Not me," he insisted. "Her surgeons did that… and you."
"How long before she can be moved to a regular room?"
"Tomorrow morning. I want to keep a close eye on her tonight."
His blood froze again. "She's not out of danger?"
"It's just a precaution," Kyle assured him.
"Okay," he said with a relieved sigh. "Still think she'll sleep straight through the night?"
Kyle nodded. "And if she does wake up, she'll be groggy, perhaps even disoriented."
Rod looked down upon her sleeping face and chuckled at the mental picture of a "disoriented" Mackenzie Allen. "Kyle, I understand the rules about visitors, but I'd like to stay with her… I need to stay with her."
"I'll get it cleared. I'm going to shower and then get some food and sleep. But I'll be close by if needed."
"Thanks." After he left, Rod pulled a chair up and sat close to her. He brushed back the hair that had fallen down across her face and gently kissed her forehead. As he held her hand and stared into her peaceful face, he was reminded of his own post-surgical experience when they'd been together in law school.
Six weeks or so into their relationship, Mike Stanton had deliberately undercut him on the basketball court and he'd broken his arm. During surgery he'd suffered an allergic reaction to the anesthesia that bottomed out his respiration and turned his same-day surgery into a three-day ordeal.
The morning he was released from the hospital he took Mackenzie flowers, but she was furious with him. He didn't know it at the time but she'd thought he'd been seeing someone else. She wouldn't even look at him, so he'd left the flowers and had gone home. But she'd come over to his condo that evening with dinner anyway, and afterwards they had their first real argument. She was livid that he hadn't told her about being in the hospital. The raw emotion in her voice touched something inside him. It was the first time in their relationship that she'd allowed herself to display any real vulnerability. He'd gathered her up against him with his good arm, and held her close. Later that night, he told her he loved her for the first time. The pain in her eyes and her subsequent tears broke his heart.
At the time he didn't know anything about the man responsible for her heartache and mistrust, the man who had contributed so much to their break up—not even his name. David. Even now Rod didn't know his last name. He was just David. David, who more than twenty years later still had a hold on the woman he loved. He wasn't threatened by it: She was no longer heartbroken or afraid to love—she'd proven that over and over the past few months.
But for some inexplicable reason she still could not see David's choice clearly, or understand how bored and miserable she would be in the life he'd chosen. She wasn't meant to be a diplomat's wife. She was meant for greatness in her own right, not as someone else's "better half." Her parents knew it—particularly Michael; and somehow he'd always understood it, too. Mac seemed to be the only one who didn't fully understand that she was meant to lead, not follow. That she was born to become exactly who she had become: The woman who would change the course of history.
How would they have balanced it all had they stayed together? His father was right to question him like he had when the two of them had discussed marriage the weekend before his breakup with Mackenzie. Twenty years ago, would he have been selfless enough to forestall his own dreams and ambitions and support her? He hoped so. But honestly, he did not know. And what about their children? There would have been no simple solution like there'd been with Lauren, who loved being at home with the twins.
Life had worked out for the best for each of them, he realized again with a deep intake of breath. He had no regrets. They could be together now without any such obstacles. Sure they would have challenges, but nothing that couldn't be worked out relatively easy. They were older and wiser now. Fortunately his job could generally be done as easily from Washington as from Atlanta. The twins were grown so he had the freedom to travel and be at Mac's side on a regular basis. He would be there for her. There would be no repeat of today.
He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead once more, lingering a moment to check for fever. He breathed a sigh of relief at the relative coolness of her skin. He'd come so close to losing her today. He ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her cheek. He was surprised when she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hi," he said, continuing to stroke her hair. She said nothing and he wondered if she were truly awake. "You are so beautiful," he told her, and her eyes filled with tears. Panicked, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"
She reached out and touched his face. "You feel so real. But when I wake up you'll be gone and I'll be shattered again."
Gently he brushed away her tears. "This is no dream, Sleeping Beauty. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."
She shook her head. "I don't believe you. This is a dream—a wonderful dream, but it's not real."
"Honey, this is as real as it gets." To prove his point he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth, and felt her first tremble then sigh.
"You promise?"
He chuckled at the child-like insistence in her voice. "I promise. Now go back to sleep," he gently prodded.
"Okay," she agreed. "It's such a wonderful dream." Momentarily she closed her eyes but then opened them again. "You'll stay with me?" she asked hesitantly.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the top of them. "I'll be right here waiting for you to wake up, waiting so we can finally begin our life together—a long and happy life, full of love and laughter. And I won't let anyone or anything come between us again."
"Kiss me again, please?" she begged.
"Yes, Madam President," he teased before brushing his lips over her full-mouth. He was careful to keep his weight off her. He heard her sigh contentedly again. "Better?" he asked, looking into her face with an indulgent smile.
She nodded. But before drifting back to sleep, she whispered, "I like this dream. Don't let it end."
"I won't," he promised with one last kiss on her forehead. He continued to sit beside her, holding her hand, until he, too, fell asleep, dreaming of their future together.
XXXXXXXXXX
Friday, March 27, 2016
The dream ended, leaving Mac feeling bereft. She hated to open her eyes and find herself alone again. It must have been Cooper's conversation with him on the plane that had caused her to dream he was here. Maybe she could fall back asleep and recreate the dream. But the throbbing pain on the right side of her abdomen became a stark reminder of reality: She was the President of the United States and there was work to do.
Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings and gasped in surprise. She wasn't alone: He was more than a dream. Rod was sleeping next to her, slumped in a chair with his long legs sprawled across the floor. He looked stiff, uncomfortable and very sexy. In an instant all her concerns about her job and for the country flew away on sabbatical. All that mattered at the moment was that he was here. Gingerly she turned and began to caress his arm, which was draped on the bed. When he opened his eyes she saw the same initial disorientation she'd just experienced. Then he saw her and his eyes became filled with loving concern while a sweet smile tugged at his lips.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting up and moving even closer to her.
She reached out and caressed his unshaven cheek. "You're really here."
He nodded and kissed her softly on the mouth. "You scared me to death. Don't ever do that again."
She playfully tapped his nose. "I don't think I can. I'm fairly certain I only have one appendix."
"Smart ass," he threw back. He took her hand and held it gently. "I love you."
"Me, too," she said with a sigh. "So much. I can't believe you're here. I honestly thought I was dreaming."
He chuckled. "I know. You were so cute… but so out of it. I don't think you believed I was real even after I kissed you."
"Hey!" she protested. "It's not wholly irrational, you know. You did talk to Cooper after all, and from what I hear, you also gave the Secret Service the business and ordered them to land here immediately."
"I did," he acknowledged. "I was terrified of losing you."
She tilted her head, and looked at him skeptically. "If you were that scared, why didn't you talk to me?"
He stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I couldn't do that to you—to either of us. I couldn't just waltz in and out of your life like it was nothing. Like we were nothing."
Briefly the pain and loneliness of the past few weeks came rushing back, followed by the realization that he was truly here. "So does that mean?" she asked hopefully.
"Don't you remember anything about our conversation last night?"
She ignored his tease and answered truthfully, "Just that you were here with me, kissing me and touching me, and I never wanted it to end."
"It will never end," he assured her as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He looked deep into her eyes and told her, "I promise to kiss you and touch you and love you until my dying day."
"I want that so much," she said, deeply touched by his heartfelt promise. "But what about Rebecca?"
"She's the reason I'm here. She insisted I come."
"She did?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
She squeezed his hand. "I'll do everything in my power to protect her."
"We both will." Again he stroked her hair. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"
"Yeah right!" She rolled her eyes. "I must look like death warmed over."
"Just a little pale," he acknowledged, "but absolutely stunning."
She tried to chuckle at his blatant lie. But it turned into a wince.
"How bad is it?" he asked, his brows furrowed with obvious concern.
"Truthfully? I feel like a rubber wheel whose insides have been ripped apart by a tire shredder."
"Oh, honey… let me get you some painkiller. We should get Kyle in here anyway to take a look at you."
"I'm all right," she assured him. "What time is it?"
He looked at his watch, which was still set to Mountain Daylight Time. "Well, in Colorado Springs it's six. So that makes it seven here."
"And eight in D.C." she finished. "I can't believe I was out all night. The press must be having a field day and Templeton…"
He put a finger to her lips. "Stop it. You slept because it was what your body needed. When I think about how close we came to losing you…."
"I'm all right," she assured him again.
"You just had major surgery," he reminded her. "Listen, Mac, I understand you have a job to do. But I am not going to let you put your health at risk… no matter how strong and stubborn you may be. Don't think you can stop me either, Madam President."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she said. She'd missed his tender care and gentle teasing so much. "I still can't believe you're here. I honestly wasn't sure we'd ever be like this again. There's so much I want to say…"
"I know. Me, too," he agreed. "But you have a job to do."
"Please don't think that you're not the most important thing in my life."
He winked at her. "We'll have plenty of time for us later. I'll make sure of it."
"I'd so much rather it be now. It's just that I can't afford to have Templeton prancing around my office one minute longer than necessary."
"I'd like to be able to disagree with you there, but I can't," he admitted after a moment's hesitation.
"What happened?" she asked with her patented scowl.
"Maybe you should talk to Jim," he suggested.
"Rod…" she protested. She attempted to sit up but didn't get very far.
"Let me help you." He propped up her pillows and adjusted the bed into more of an upright position. "How's that?"
"Better," she agreed, taking a deep breath to fight against the acute discomfort.
He could see the pain she was in. "I'm getting you some pain reliever, and Dr. Brock," he told her.
She grabbed his hand as he moved towards the door. "Talk to me first. Please?"
He sighed as she gingerly moved more to the side of the bed to make room for him. He carefully sat down beside her. He'd spent the hours in the waiting room watching the news and speaking regularly with Jim so he'd be prepared. "There was a Liberation of Palestine Organization suicide bombing at a bus stop ten miles outside of Tel Aviv. Jim advised Templeton to call the Israeli's and urge restraint but he refused claiming 'Israel has the right to defend itself.'"
Mac took another deep breath, infinitely frustrated over yesterday's events. "What else?"
"Templeton also had the House pass a resolution for binding arbitration over the airline strike. And the National Mediation Board ruled in favor of the airlines and ordered the pilots back to work. Of course, Templeton is now claiming a total victory for himself."
"How long is this new deal in effect?"
"Sixty days."
"Dammit, Rod! That man just undid months of hard work and good will. I need to speak with Jim and resume my office."
"Slow down, Mackenzie," he insisted. "You almost died yesterday. You will not do anything without doctor approval."
"Then get Brock in here–immediately," she commanded. "And help me get dressed. I'm not seeing anybody like this... and I need to be briefed because I am resuming Office."
All he could do was smile knowingly and do what she asked. But he would watch her like a hungry hawk eying his next meal.
A relatively short time later, Mac was on the phone with Jim, dressed in her own robe with a stack of papers in front of her and reading glasses on. She'd been briefed, examined and moved to another room; and once again she was officially the President of the United States.
Rod stood just outside talking with Dr. Brock, who had given her the green light to work from bed–within limits. Even while speaking, however, he kept one eye on Mackenzie. She would begin testing those limits very quickly. She looked better, but she was operating on pure adrenaline, stubbornness, and anger over Templeton. "Kyle," he said, "I'm worried about her, worried she's doing too much, too fast."
"You should be concerned. "
"What does she need?"
"Bed rest... it's that simple."
He nodded and raised a sardonic eyebrow."Try telling her that..."
"Good luck... I'm here to back you up," the doctor told him as both men re-entered the room.
"These workers will almost certainly strike at the end of the sixty-day period," the President was saying, "and guess what? It's their right to do so... Not separately, together. In person, in the Roosevelt Room, first thing Monday. I don't care that it's the holiday... Thanks, Jim."
She hung up the phone and gave it to Cooper, who was standing on one side of the bed, before speaking to Dr. Brock who was standing on the other side with Rod. "When is the soonest I can leave?"
"You're starting to sound like a typical patient."
"I'm feeling much better and I happen to travel with my own Doc 24/7."
"Nice try. The earliest–and it's not my ideal choice, but maybe sometime tomorrow."
Mac took off her glasses. "Make it happen." As the doctor left the room, she turned her attention to the television screen where an earlier press conference of then Acting President Nathan Templeton was being aired.
"Morning," Templeton exclaimed as he walked behind the podium in the White House pressroom. "Effective immediately, the strike that has frozen the nation's travel industry, and threatened our economy, has stood to ruin this holiday weekend of the American people, has ended..."
"Dammit!" she muttered again. She turned to Cooper. "Call Mr. Gardner and tell him I want the Speaker in my office when I get home."
"Mac…" Rod warned. "I don't think that's wise."
She turned her scowl on him.
His mouth tightened and he stared back. The upcoming days would be a battle of wills and he had no intention of backing down if she was doing too much, too soon.
"Give it up, Dad," Cooper said lightly, in an attempt to diffuse the rising tension in the room. "She's got her 'hmph face' on. You know what that means."
In spite of himself, Rod began to laugh. Raising his hands in surrender, he said, "All right. I know when I'm beat." He sat down next to her on the bed and grasped one of her hands. "Can't you at least wait until Monday to see him? Give yourself a little time. What difference will a couple of days make?"
She shook her head. "I can't, honey. This conversation is long overdue. It's all a power trip to him—all a game… and the people of this country deserve better."
"Okay, Madam President," he conceded. "But after that, the rest of the weekend you are mine; and absent a genuine emergency there will be no work. Deal?"
"Deal."
He sighed heavily as the events of the last two days caught up with him. "Don't ever do this to me again," he told her. "I don't think I could take it."
"I won't if you won't," she replied with a similar sigh. "It would kill me to lose you again."
"I promise." He leaned forward until their foreheads connected… just like old times. Still touching, they chuckled when Cooper asked, "Can I call the Chief Justice now?"