38. Let Us Go Forward Together

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Washington, D.C.

Rod got off the phone with Cooper and looked over at Mac, who sat perpendicular to him across a narrow aisle aboard Marine One. Her eyes were closed, but her body was tense. She was in pain. She was also strong-willed and this weekend was bound to be a challenge.

He hadn't been sure about taking the chopper in from Andrews Air Force Base instead of the limousine, but she'd insisted because city traffic would not be disrupted. Dr. Brock seemed okay with it, so he'd chosen not to argue; and though Kyle was on board with them, he was still on edge. Even now she was insisting on meeting with Templeton immediately. He, on the other hand, wanted "Madam President" left in the West Wing, and "Mackenzie" dressed in pajamas and tucked safely upstairs in bed.

As they flew over the National Mall, he leaned forward to take a closer look out the window. This view of Washington's city was breathtaking. What a way to travel he thought with great amusement. No wonder his son was obsessed with her transportation toys.

Mac felt him shift positions and knew exactly what he was seeing and feeling. On most days, she still felt that exhilaration. As they made the all-too-familiar turn around the Washington Monument, she opened her eyes and smiled at the intensity of his gaze as he stared out the window. "Amazing view, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes, it is," he acknowledged, trying to take it all in.

"You should see it at night," she pointed out.

He turned his head towards her and smiled. "Think the President will invite me again?" he teased.

"She'd be a fool if she didn't." She reached across the narrow aisle and grabbed his hand. The press corps hadn't been allowed access to her at the hospital, or at Offutt and Andrews. But they would be waiting for her arrival en masse on the South Lawn, along with several staff members and their guests. It never ceased to amaze her how a simple helicopter departure or arrival could garner so much attention. "Honey, are you honestly ready for this?" she asked him.

"For a public relationship?"

She nodded.

"Only for you," he replied with a smile. Lightly he brushed his thumb across the top of her knuckles. He could feel the tension in her. "How bad is the pain?" he asked.

She shrugged. "About a six."

"Mac…"

She sighed. "More like an eight," she conceded.

Which translated to at least a nine, he thought wryly. "At least use the wheelchair."

"I'll be okay," she insisted, trying to summon up strength she did not have.

"I know you won't postpone this, but why don't you meet with Templeton upstairs?" he suggested. "You'd be more comfortable."

She shook her head. "It has to be the office."

He squeezed her hand. "Mackenzie, you don't need the trappings of power to prove to him, or anyone else, exactly who you are and why you are here."

"Thanks. But today I need all the help I can get." She hurt all over and was finding it a chore to breathe. "Will you walk with me? Keep me company until he arrives?"

"You know I will," he replied. They touched down on the South Lawn. He unbuckled his seat belt and did the same for her. In no time the young marine had the door open. He helped her stand and winced at her sharp intake of breath. "Sure you're okay?" he asked, supporting her with his arm.

She nodded.

"All right," he conceded. "Let's get this done."

She smiled her thanks to him. Straightening up, she silently prayed some adrenaline would kick in soon. At the bottom of the stairs, she saluted the marine and set her sights on her office. But as she began to walk that way, applause and whistles from the right side of the rope line caught her attention. She glanced that way and was overwhelmed to discover that several people had brought her flowers. Buoyed up by their kindness, she glanced quickly at Rod, who was just behind her, and walked over to them.

Rod, too, heard the applause and saw the flowers. He knew instantly that she would not ignore their efforts. But he would not let her remain there long.

Mac started at the far side of the rope line. She shook hands with everyone and warmly accepted the flowers. When her arms were full, Rod was instantly at her side. As she handed him the flowers and looked up into his face, she smiled. In his dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie, he looked suspiciously like a member of her protective detail. All that was missing were the dark sunglasses and the earpiece. "Thanks," she told him.

"What am I going to do with you?" he protested softly against her ear.

She was so tempted to kiss him. Wouldn't that create a stir? But she would not take the lead in their relationship in public. Not yet, anyway. So instead she coyly raised an eyebrow in his direction then turned her attention back to the crowd. As she shook the last hand, she felt his supportive hand against the small of her back. She leaned into him. This simple gesture made under the prying eyes of the crowd and the White House press corps spoke volumes about his love for her and his commitment to her. She ignored the reporters' shouted questions from the left rope line as together they walked along the driveway and up the cement path to her office.

Once inside Rod convinced her to sit down. Jim came in and the three of them made small talk until word came that Nathan Templeton had arrived. Since Cooper was in Atlanta on an errand for Rod, and her secretaries were off, Jim went to meet him. "Are you ready?" Rod asked her.

She nodded and he helped her stand. "Do I look okay?" she asked, straightening her suit jacket.

He looked her over from head to toe. "You look beautiful—and very presidential."

"Thank you." She grabbed his hand and in an instant he closed the distance between them. She sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Madam President," Nathan Templeton announced as he strolled into the Oval Office.

Rod unhurriedly stepped to her side as Mac turned towards her guest. "Nathan, thank you for coming," she said.

The older man stopped a few feet away and replied, "Anything for you, Madam President. You look great, but should you really be working?"

She ignored his insincere attempt at civility and his show of concern for her wellbeing. "I don't believe you've met Rod Calloway," she said.

"I haven't. Judge, how are things in the Eleventh Circuit?"

Instead of extending his hand out towards the older man, Rod placed his hand against the small of Mac's back and smiled. "Just fine, Mr. Templeton… or should I still address you as 'Mr. Speaker?' I mean, surely you've made a deal with the governor of Florida and your Republican colleagues in the House to be reappointed to your congressional seat and your leadership position first thing Tuesday morning?"

He was pleased to see his retort at least momentarily struck a nerve. Satisfied that he'd accomplished what he set out to do, he added, "Now if you will excuse me, I'll let the two of you get down to business." He turned to Mac and kissed her on the mouth. "I'll be across the hall," he told her softly. He needed to speak with Jim when she wasn't around and this would be the perfect opportunity.

"Thanks, honey," she said as he moved towards the side door. She walked over to her desk and fighting not to show any outward sign of the pain that wracked her internally, she gingerly sat down and gestured to a chair across the desk for him to join her.

He sat down and said, "Surely you're not going to try and deny your affair now?"

Paying no attention to the additional pain it would cause, she casually leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Is that how you describe your relationship with Sarah—as an affair?" She paused and relished how his trademark Machiavellian grin instantly disappeared. His one true soft spot was his wife. "I didn't think so," she added without waiting for a retort.

However, the sharp, ripping pain in her side brought her quickly back to the real purpose of this meeting. Leaning forward until her elbows rested on her desk, she said, "Let's skip the small talk, shall we?" She stared him down before continuing, "Just where in the hell do you get off thinking you can waltz in here—into my office—and dictate executive policy?"

XXXXXXXXXX

After Templeton left five minutes later, Mac again sunk down into her chair, burning up with anger yet completely drained. She could not let him win this election. His arrogance and shortsightedness would be a disaster for the country. But how could she stop him? She'd been working day and night and still she trailed him by ten points in the polls. And now, he would get a huge bump from his shenanigans of the past few days. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. The pain in her side spiked again and she doubled over, her head resting on her desk. After several shallow breaths, the pain lessened and she tried to stand. But when she couldn't get her body to follow instructions, she just stayed put.

A few minutes later, she felt Rod's familiar, supportive touch on her shoulder. She straightened up and he helped her to stand. With a scowl and a firm voice he told her, "There's a wheelchair on the colonnade. You, Madam, are going straight to bed… and that is not open to discussion."

She was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue.

A short time later, she was sitting in bed eating dinner under his watchful eye. He looked rather menacing in his suit pants and white shirt as he stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He was angry with her, but was doing his best not to explode. He said nothing but just stared at her. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a 'hmph face,'" she told him when she could no longer take the silence. He dropped his arms to his side and sighed. Maintaining eye contact with her, his expression still intense, he walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

"Honestly, Mackenzie, what am I going to do with you?" he asked again rhetorically.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Sure, you are," he replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "You're running a fever over 102 degrees and you managed to pull out half your stitches." He pursed his lips and shook his head before he continued. "You push yourself beyond what's reasonable and safe. You worked most of yesterday and today—including straight through lunch on the plane; and you insisted on a showdown with the Speaker immediately after returning home. That is just stupid, Mac."

"You're right," she conceded. Dr. Brock had just examined her again. After he re-sutured her incision and insisted she take some pain medication, he, too, had given her a respectful yet stern lecture. She rubbed Rod's thigh, hoping she could make him relax. At the same time, just the thought of her earlier conversation with the Speaker got her worked up again. "He just makes me so mad. I can't let him win. But I have no idea how to stop him."

"Templeton?"

She nodded.

"Honey, you have no vice-president. If you end up back in the hospital because you were impossibly stubborn, you will lose valuable time and momentum and there will be no stopping him."

"I know." She sighed deeply. "Not that it really matters. He's so far ahead and nothing I do seems to matter at all. I just don't get it."

It hated to see her so discouraged. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers stroke the side of her face. "We'll figure it out," he assured her. "First though we have to get you well… and that means no work the next few days and lots of rest."

She rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand. "I know you're right… and I am tired. But I have to speak at Arlington on Monday morning."

"We'll see," he answered noncommittally. "And I say that out of love, Madam," he added, effectively cutting off any protest.

"Honey, I had to work. Like you said, I need a new vice-president immediately; and Templeton made such a huge mess of things but you know he'll get a huge bump in the polls. I couldn't wait until next week to get ready to respond."

"Yeah, I know..."

She watched his face glaze over as his mind went to a place of deep thought. She smiled and rubbed his leg again. No reaction. What was it Cooper had said coming home from Jerusalem? That when he was in the thought zone the world could collapse and he wouldn't know it? She lightly traced a trail up his abdomen and chest with her fingers and felt his muscles contract. When he smiled at her, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. Finish your dinner."

"I am finished." She began to move the tray off her lap but he took it from her and set it on the floor. "I know that look," she said to him. "Tell me."

"Okay," he replied with a shrug. "Perhaps the best attack is no attack. Say nothing and it will soon be forgotten; and he'll look like a fool trying to sell himself to the country based on less than 24 hours as acting president. Why give him a reason to keep his day of jubilee alive?"

"Day of jubilee?" she repeated, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I like that… But how can I possibly avoid the subject? You heard the questions the press corps shouted at me on the lawn. They're not going to let it go."

"Don't take the bait."

"How?"

"Well, if I was in your shoes, in response to every question about him, I would stress how great our constitution is and how well our system of government works. How the 25th Amendment and presidential succession laws were meant for just such an occasion. Make it about you, honey. Talk about your gratitude for the thoughts, prayers and good wishes of the American people, and how committed you are to being the leader they need and deserve."

Mac thought about his suggestions and finally acknowledged, "That just might work. You really are good."

"Not at all," he said, deflecting her praise. "I just don't have as much on my mind. Or maybe you're just too close to the situation."

"It's hard not to be," she conceded with a sigh. "From the moment I took office, he's done everything in his power to undermine me."

"I know," he agreed sympathetically. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and with an intimate wink added, "That's why you have me around."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "I love how you handled him earlier. He was speechless. I think our relationship scares him."

"I know," he replied with a smirk.

She playfully raised her eyebrow and suggested, "Still a politician at heart. Maybe I should appoint you as Vice-President."

He laughed. "Forget it. What was it that one of FDR's vice-presidents said? That the job isn't 'worth a bucket of warm piss?'"

She grinned. "I think it was John Nance Gardner… and he was right."

"You would know." Rod brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. "How's the pain?"

"It's much better. And I don't need anything," she added before he could ask.

"Am I that transparent?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "You're just you."

Careful to keep his weight off her, he pressed a light, lingering kiss on her mouth. "Mmm… chicken soup, corn chips and chocolate pudding. Nothing better," he teased, licking his lips, before kissing her again. Afterwards, he nuzzled against her neck, loving the softness of her skin and her uniquely feminine scent.

She stroked his taut chest through the supple, expensive fabric of his shirt and whispered in his ear, "I missed you so much."

"Me, too." She sighed and rested her head against him. He held her and rubbed her back for a few minutes before asking, "The pain medication's kicked in, hasn't it?"

She sighed again.

"Let's get you ready for bed." He helped her into the bathroom for her nightly routine and then back into bed. Once again he sat down beside her. "Get some sleep. Jim is keeping a close eye on the world, so no worries there."

"I know," she said through a yawn.

"I'll stay for a while and will be back first thing in the morning. And if you need anything later, I can be here in a few minutes."

"Sure you don't want to just stay here?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I am staying here," he reminded her as he pulled the covers up under her chin.

"Across the street at Blair House."

He was so tempted to stay. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed beside her. But after their arrival together this afternoon, and their behavior with Templeton, the press would be staked out, waiting for his departure—or lack thereof. "Mackenzie…"

She reached up and touched his arm. "I know it's the right thing. It's just…." Involuntarily she yawned again.

"I hate it, too." He bent his head and touched their foreheads together. "Sweet dreams, my love," he whispered to her before kissing her softly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sunday, May 29, 2016

When Mac awoke she was alone. She looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was approaching six p.m. Had she really taken a four-hour nap? They had put on a movie and she'd promptly fallen asleep, curled up against Rod on her left side. She wasn't in pain, so gingerly she sat up on the edge of the bed. She heard the faint sounds of the television through the open door to the family room and knew that's where she would find him.

She walked into the bathroom, emptied her bladder, and checked herself in the mirror. She cringed at what she saw. She looked washed out. How bad must she have looked earlier? She brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her unruly hair before walking into the other room.

She smiled as she heard the sounds of baseball on the big screen. Surprisingly, she found him not sprawled out on the sofa but standing at the big window, seemingly lost in thought as he stared across the South Lawn. She slipped to his side and wrapped her left arm around his back. "Game not enough to hold your attention?"

"I was listening. But it's a gorgeous evening and I was enjoying the view." He turned to her and placed his hands lightly on her waist. "How do you feel?"

"Better. I can't remember a day like this… It's decadent." He insisted she remain in bed in her pajamas all day. They had shared breakfast and lunch on a tray, looked over her Memorial Day speech, and he gave her a foot massage that had her practically drooling. Mostly, however, she slept.

"It's a necessity," he corrected. He bent his head to brush his lips against her cheek.

"I don't have a fever," she whispered before turning her head and placing a kiss of her own on his cheek.

He laughed and took her hands as he examined her from head to toe. "You are feeling better," he said afterwards, unable to hide his sense of relief.

She smiled. "Thanks to you."

"Do you feel up to a walk before dinner?" he asked.

"You mean I get to put on some real clothes?" she teased.

He leaned towards her and with a wicked gleam in his eyes, softly replied, "I'd rather you wear nothing at all… But for now, clothes will have to do."

Smiling through her flushed face, she said, "I love you."

"It's a good thing… because you're stuck with me—White House, Secret Service, paparazzi and all."

Speculation over the nature of their relationship had been rampant on both the network and cable news shows today while footage of yesterday's helicopter arrival, and of him leaving the White House last night and being practically attacked by reporters and photographers, had been played over and over. They'd been so successful in the past at hiding their relationship from public view, she hadn't expected they would jump on him so quickly and so completely.

"How does it feel being America's newest celebrity?" she asked somewhat tentatively with a gentle tease, hoping she could get him to talk about it. He'd changed the subject on her whenever she'd mentioned it earlier in the day.

"I shall endeavor to endure, Madam," he replied, his tone dry and indulgent. He gestured with his heads towards her bedroom. "Go get dressed before I change my mind and send you back to bed."

She hurried into the bedroom where she put on a little makeup and changed into red and white patterned cropped pants, a white sleeveless blouse and red sandals. When she returned to the family room, Rod switched off the television and turned towards her. She felt much better about her appearance when she saw the desire in his eyes.

Hands buried deep in the pockets of his long navy seersucker shorts, he said, "Mackenzie, you are so beautiful."

"Thank you." She extended his hand to him. "Ready to go?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Hand in hand they took the elevator downstairs and walked through the Palm Room out to the walkway that runs along the eastern edge of the Rose Garden. Halfway down the path Mac noticed a golf cart parked on the circular driveway and chuckled. He'd barely let her move a muscle since her meeting with Templeton yesterday. She should have known he would have something besides walking up his sleeve.

Rod had been waiting for her reaction when she saw the cart. "You didn't honestly believe I was going to let you actually walk, did you?" he asked her.

"Apparently not," she replied with another chuckle. She dared not laugh because it would hurt too much.

He gestured to the passenger seat. "Your chariot, Madam."

"Thank you." She accepted his assistance in getting settled in the little cart. As he sat in the driver's seat, she said, "What did you do? Rob a local golf course?"

He smiled at her and admitted, "I think it came from Camp David."

She smiled back. "I'm sure the President won't mind."

"I thought about the wheel chair. But decided I wasn't too keen on the idea of pushing you back up the hill."

"I'm sure you could have enlisted a couple of the agents to assist you," she playfully replied.

"And look like a wimp? I don't think so. Besides, I'm not sure it's included in their job description."

"It better not be. I have no intention of ever needing one again." As they started down the hill past her office, she felt the wind on her face and sighed. "You were right. It's a beautiful evening. Warm with just a touch of a breeze."

"I thought a little fresh air would do us both some good. But is the ride too bumpy for you?" He slowed down and rested a hand on her leg. He couldn't stop touching her.

"It feels good," she assured him, taking his hand.

He nodded and sped up slightly as they continued down the driveway. "Are you hungry?" he asked as they reached the bottom near the basketball court, which he silently noted, still needed some major work.

"Mmm… You want to go back inside already?" she asked.

"No, I had something else in mind."

He stopped by the tennis court where Jeffrey, Jessica and other members of her protective detail were apparently staked out. "The Children's Garden?"

"If you feel up to it."

She smiled and he helped her out of the cart, took her by the hand and led her off the driveway along the familiar stone path leading to the little private garden, which was surrounded by trees and shrubs. "What have you done?" she asked him as they walked.

"You'll see."

Inside Mac discovered an intimate table for two had been set up next to the fishpond in the corner of the garden, complete with the Clinton china and a vase of roses. "It's lovely," she told him.

He helped her sit at the table. "Are you sure that you're okay with this? We can get you back to bed and eat off trays—it's no big deal—not if you honestly don't feel up to it."

"I'm stiff and sore, but this is perfect. Besides, I'm tired of being cooped up inside."

"Me, too," he agreed. "But promise me you'll tell me if it gets to be too much. It's only been three days since you had major surgery. You should be in the hospital."

"Who needs a hospital when I've got you scrutinizing my every move?" she protested.

"Mac…" he warned as he sat down across from her.

"I promise," she assured him. "So what's for dinner?"

He laughed. "Nothing too exotic, I'm afraid. Kyle got to Chef Paul before I did and dictated a very bland menu." No sooner had he finished than one of the Usher's came in carrying a large tray. Very quickly he realized that bland did not necessarily equate to tasteless. The chicken Romano with wild rice and fresh grilled vegetables was scrumptious. "Remind me never to question Chef Paul's culinary prowess again," he said lightly a few minutes later after devouring a third of the meal.

Mac looked at her own half-empty plate and smiled. "I'm continually amazed. Seriously, why go out when you've got this at home?" she said before taking another bite.

"And it is home," he said rhetorically.

"Yes, it is," she acknowledged. She put down her fork. "But without you it felt like just a big empty house."

"Atlanta felt the same."

"Misery loves company," she told him. "This is lovely. Thank you for thinking of it. I never would have imagined this spot, but it's just right."

"I thought about the Blue or Yellow Rooms, or the Truman Balcony for the view. But in the end I liked this better because… well, because…"

She finished his thought. "Because here we're just me and you."

Looking into her face, he nodded. "It seemed right. After all, this is where we first talked about second chances."

She sighed. "So much has happened since then."

"You were so brave that day. I gave you such a hard time."

"I was desperate. I knew in an instant that I was still madly in love with you. I couldn't let you walk away again."

He took her hand. "You remembered my favorite poem—one of many surprises from you that day. It stopped me in my tracks."

"Were you really surprised?"

He nodded. "Stunned. I wasn't prepared for the way you made me feel, and wanted nothing to do with it. But then you spoke those words and it changed my mind about leaving. I couldn't believe that you remembered."

"I remember everything about you and our time together." She sighed again. "Mostly though, I remember my stupidity in believing that you, like David, would ultimately find me deficient."

"Mackenzie, I would never… You were everything to me."

His voice grew fierce. Honor and loyalty were everything to him she again realized. She took his hand. "I know that now. At the time I was blinded by fear. My foolishness cost us a lifetime together. That's why I couldn't let you walk away again—not without telling you how I feel."

"The difference in you was startling," he told her with a wistful smile. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder again how someone she hadn't seen in over twenty years could still figure so prominently in her thoughts at times. He took another bite of chicken before asking, "How can he still have such a hold on you?"

"David?" She stiffened and scowled. Pulling her hand away, she sharply insisted, "He doesn't. I just wish I understood why he changed his mind and what I had done wrong."

Quietly he said, "Did it never occur to you that it was nothing you did or said? That it wasn't you?"

She shook her head. "No, it had to be me. But it doesn't matter. I got over it a long time ago." She, too, began to finish her meal.

Rod watched her take out her frustration on her food, and wanted to kick himself for delving into such a sensitive topic, especially tonight. As they ate in stony silence, he thought back to that early March afternoon when he'd first learned David's name and all that took place between them. Thought back to her startling openness, and to his own almost boorish behavior. He could have handled that weekend so much better than he had. He put down his fork and touched her shoulder. He heard her sigh and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he said, "You're right. David doesn't matter and neither does the past. But I am sorry that I hurt you the weekend me met again, and that it took me so long to catch up."

"It was my own fault. There was no reason for you to trust or believe what I had to say, or even care about me at all. Not after everything I put you through."

"You've been so patient—so accepting, with me and my kids. Far more so than I had any right to ask."

"What choice did I have? I want and need you in my life. I knew that the moment I saw you again, standing in my office, looking at the Hassam painting, hands buried in your pockets. And if that meant a lifetime of only friendship how could I possibly complain? I'm the one responsible for it."

"And then I hurt you again. Offered you everything I have and then pulled the rug out from under you."

"Honey, I know why you did it and I love you for it. But I won't lie. I was miserable every minute without you. I never would have moved on—never could have loved anyone else."

He nodded. "Me, too."

"Are you sure Becca's really okay with us? That she hasn't changed her mind? I know we probably should have discussed this before now. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was just so happy to have us again."

"Well, I don't think she's thrilled. But she's resigned to it and is not complaining—not much anyway," he added with a gentle smile. "Don't worry. She'll come around."

"I hope so," she said while lines of worry etched across her brow. "I could never take the place of Lauren, and I would never try. I know she resents me—and I understand why she feels that way. But more than anything, I want us all to be a family. Is it wrong to want that? Have I overstepped my place?"

Tenderly he stroked her cheek. "No, it's not wrong, and no, you haven't overstepped anything. It's what I want. Thank you for wanting it, too."

"I just hope that eventually I can convince her how important she is to me—that I love her, too."

"I wish that I could tell you it will be easy from now on. But I'm sure there will be days when we'll want to kill her. So I'll just apologize now in advance."

She smiled back at him. "Honey, I understand. I'll be patient for as long as it takes."

"Thank you. I wish that I understood better. With her brother it's always been so easy, with her…."

"She's a girl. What did you honestly expect? This is a much harder adjustment for her than Cooper. She's used to having both of you to herself—used to being the only woman in your lives, and I've changed that equation. Subconsciously, she probably feels displaced."

"I hadn't considered that," he said. "How can I make her see that nothing has changed?"

"You already have. You sacrificed your happiness for hers—just like you've done her entire life. You're a wonderful father. I always knew you would be."

"Thank you."

"I forgot to ask how she's playing in Colorado?"

"Really well. I think she'll make the team. That reminds me, I have a letter for you from Becca in my briefcase."

She acted surprised. "Really?"

"It's on White House stationary, Mac. You want to fill me in on the joke?"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Just to give it to you."

"She didn't mention that we talked?"

"Now that I think about it, she said that she saw you and Cooper when you were in town. I wasn't paying much attention at the time because I didn't want to rehash our earlier conversation in Greenwich. Afterwards, I was too worried about you to give it any thought. When did Raleigh-Durham get put on your schedule? I don't remember seeing it there, and Cooper hasn't said a word about it."

"It was a last minute thing," she told him. "Bill Clinton was supposed to deliver the commencement address at the University of North Carolina but got laryngitis, so I filled in."

"He didn't look first to his wife?"

"I believe she had it, too," she replied, unable to swallow the smile that tugged at her lips.

He laughed. "Mackenzie, what did you do?"

"I wanted to talk to Becca before she left for Colorado and Bill was nice enough to help me out. This time Mohammad went to the mountain."

He shook his head in disbelief, a closed mouth smile on his face. "Why do I get the feeling that was only the first step in the conspiracy?"

"Well, I did add a visit to the troops at Fort Bragg. It is my prerogative, you know."

He laughed. "Just out of curiosity, what did you do with the old schedule?"

"Rescheduled. Just another presidential perk," she said dryly.

He shook his head again. "And Junior's role in all this? Because there's no way my daughter would have willingly cooperated."

"He and Jamison got her to the hotel."

"I bet she loved that," he told her.

"She wasn't too happy at first," Mac admitted. "But we ended up having a good talk. Although when I left her, I honestly didn't think anything would happen because of it. By the time I left for Seattle on Wednesday, I was resigned to the fact that nothing had changed, or was likely to ever change."

"Well, whatever you said obviously worked. What was in the letter?" He was curious about a lot more than that, but it didn't seem right to press her for the details of the conversation; and knowing how his daughter could react when put on the defensive, perhaps it was best he remained in the dark.

She shrugged. "It's not important."

"Mackenzie…"

"It was my resignation."

"Mac, be serious."

"I am serious. It's a signed letter addressed to the Secretary of State resigning as President of the United States."

"And you gave it to my daughter…"

She nodded. "I want to be with you more than I want to be president. So I gave Becca the letter and told her the choice was hers."

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Just keep reminding me."

"Every day. You do know I would never have allowed you to do that," he said.

"I wouldn't have opened the matter up for discussion. If Rebecca asked me to resign, I would have. Then I would have shown up on your doorstep, begging for you to take me in—me and my entourage."

"I love you."

"Me, too. Although I must admit, I am relieved I don't have to put that promise to the test. Though the election is in less than six months and I'm sure to lose, I really like my job."

"You're not going to lose… I guarantee it."

"I hope you're right."

He grinned. "I'm always right."

"And always prepared. Dinner was delicious," she said. The light was beginning to fade as night rapidly approached. "But where's my dessert?"

He laughed. "Inside… if you feel up to it. How's the pain? Are you tired?"

"Are you kidding, after my four hour nap? Although I could use a couple of pain killers," she conceded.

He removed a small bottle from his pocket, opened it and handed it to her.

"You are such a boy scout," she teased, removing a couple of tablets and then swallowing them with a drink of water. "But thanks."

He winked at her. "Any time. We need to get you back in bed. But first, I have a question to ask you."

She watched in amazement as he stood, reached his hand into the front pocket of his shorts, and then dropped down on one knee next to her. Taking her left hand, he gazed up at her and said, "I've rehearsed this in my mind over and over again, and spent half of last night looking for the perfect piece of prose or poetry. But it always comes back to this: Mackenzie Spencer Allen, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She gasped at his words and gaped at the ring he held out to her, a wide antique gold band with a brilliant solitaire diamond that had to be at least two karats. She felt tears sting her eyes and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she told him, "Yes… oh, yes." Gently he took her hand and slid the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. He kissed her hand and she tingled with excitement and desire.

"Do you like it?" he asked eagerly from where he still knelt before her.

"I love it… and I love you," she assured him, caressing the side of his face. She wanted to throw herself at him. But he and Dr. Brock would have a fit if she even tried. Truthfully, she wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of more pain and possibly ripping out her stitches again. Rod must have read her thoughts because he pulled his chair next to hers and tenderly eased her onto his lap. He held her like a she was a priceless, breakable heirloom. She was still in some pain but the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the peace and pleasure she felt being in his arms.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Perfect. Now kiss me." She watched as the laughter in his eyes was quickly replaced by desire. She was surprised, however, when his lips only lightly brushed hers then settled gently over her mouth. He could be so sweet and solicitous. But she wanted more. Hungrily she tried to deepen the kiss. He briefly responded but then anxiously pulled away with a groan. "I won't break," she playfully told him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he replied without a trace of humor in his voice.

She touched his face and looked deeply into the eyes she adored. "You would never hurt me."

He took her hand and kissed each finger. "I came too close to losing you, and it would be too easy to lose control. So for now that's all you get. But I promise, I'll make it up to you as soon as you're stronger."

She nodded. How could she complain about being so protected and so loved? "I'm going to hold you to that, Your Honor. And in case I forgot to mention it, I love you and would be honored to be your wife. I also adore my ring," she added, again gazing at her left hand. "But how? When?"

"It's the real reason I sent Cooper to Atlanta."

She was shocked. "You already had it?"

He nodded. "My grandmother gave it to me more than twenty years ago. It was the ring my grandfather gave her on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. But if you don't like it, or would prefer something else, I'll replace it."

"It's beautiful," she assured him. She wasn't surprised that Rebecca had given him the ring. He was named after his grandfather and had always been her boy. But why did he still have it? "Why didn't you give it to Lauren?"

"Because it was meant for you."

"Me?" she repeated. "How could it have been meant for me?"

"Nana gave it to me the first weekend after we met. I told her that I had met the woman I wanted to marry. She slid the ring off her finger and told me to give it to you when I proposed. I could never have given it to anyone else. I tried to give it back to her after we broke up, but she refused. I had planned to save it for Becca someday…" His voice trailed off as a wide smile appeared on his face. "And then you came back into my life."

"You really knew that soon?"

"Yes," he said unequivocally.

She shook her head in self-derision. "I was such a fool."

"Honey, don't," he pleaded as he rubbed her back. "We're together again… and we are getting married—that I promise you. But if the ring is too much a reminder of the past, let's get you something else."

"No… I love it. You couldn't have given me anything more meaningful."

"I'm glad. Nana will be thrilled." He kissed her again briefly. "Now, let's get you back upstairs and in bed… and then you can have dessert."

XXXXXXXXXX

Monday, May 30, 2016

Arlington, Virginia

Rod watched proudly from a distance as Mackenzie lay the traditional Memorial Day wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns. She looked so much better than she did a few days ago. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Watching her shoulder length auburn hair blow gently in the breeze, he thought again how lucky he was to have been given a second chance at love with her. Her ring sparkled in the sunlight and with a chuckle he wondered how many members of the press corps had noticed it. Between the Templeton issue and their engagement, tomorrow's press briefing was bound to be interesting.

After the ceremony at the Tomb, the party moved into the adjacent white marble Memorial Amphitheatre. He strolled around to the backside as the Marine Band played Hail to the Chief and Mac was introduced to the crowd. It was a powerful scene. He stood proudly as she spoke to the gathered veterans and their families. She had always been a compelling speaker with a way of exuding confidence. Even after the ordeal of the past week, today was no different. When she was done, he wandered back over to where the motorcade was parked. They had decided together that this morning's event would not be the right occasion for their first joint public appearance. Today was too sacred, and too solemn. They did not want to distract from the true significance of this morning's ceremonies.

Soon Mackenzie joined him and they made the short drive down to her father's grave while the crowd was held in place up the hill. He helped her out of the car and together they placed a smaller wreath at the base of his tombstone.

She took his hand and said, "Thank you for sending Cooper and Carl to me on the anniversary of his death."

He looked down into her face and said, "I wanted to be the one here for you."

"You're here for me now, and that's all that counts."

He nodded.

Again she looked down at her father's grave. She still missed him every day. "He would be thrilled about our marriage. It's what he always wanted, I think." Wistfully she continued, "Even though I'm middle-aged and the President of the United States, he would have insisted you ask him permission for my hand. He would have loved that moment. I wish he could have had it."

He squeezed her hand. "Honey, he did have it. I asked him for permission to marry you the night of his birthday party that last weekend when he took me into his study."

She turned her full attention to him. She saw in his eyes that what he said was true. She was so stunned and overwhelmed that all she could say was, "I never knew…"

"I asked him not to say anything except to your mother, of course. I knew you weren't ready, but I wanted him to know exactly how I saw you and our relationship. He told me you were destined for greatness and asked that I not keep you from it. I promised him that I would always support you in whatever path you chose."

She was again shocked. But quickly it turned to regret as she remembered what happened the next evening, and the following day when it all had fallen apart. "If only I had known," she said aloud, wondering about how their lives might have been different.

"I know," he agreed. "Perhaps I was wrong in not asking you to marry me that night after we got back to New Haven. I just didn't think you were ready. I'm sorry." He tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

She closed the short distance between them and put her arms around him. Looking up at him, she said, "I wasn't ready. We both know that… But thank you for loving me, then and especially now. You know, my father talked about you the last time we spoke before his death. He was worried about me. Worried about how isolated even the vice-presidency had left me. Well, truth be told, he always worried about my personal life."

He smiled and nodded down at her. "I know how that is—only I have sisters and a grandmother, too."

"Yeah, you do," she agreed. "Anyway, he told me that life was much richer shared, and that I needed a partner in my life. Someone like you." She shook her head with more regret. "I was so angry at him for bringing you into the conversation. I thought he was out of his mind. I was happy and my life was just fine the way it was. Why would he want me to have anything to do with you after you walked away?" She sighed. "Of course, I didn't know what he knew. I couldn't see what he saw. You didn't walk away. I did. And the only life I had, was a half-life."

"We both did," he reminded her. "But never again. One thing I do know is that Michael Allen was a wise man—a man who loved his wife and his daughter. I'm honored that he considered me worthy of you. I will do everything in my power to be that man—that partner—for you."

"Thank you," she said.

He bent his head until their foreheads touched. For a long moment, they held each other, communicating their love and commitment through their touch. Finally, he kissed her and said, "Let's go home. You've had enough for today."