***
November - Election Night
Washington, D.C.
***
Sam spent the evening mingling with campaign workers, posing for photos, talking
to enthusiastic volunteers. Once in a while he would glance up at a monitor as
results came in from east to west. Then he would look over at Josh, whose face
was bathed in the glow of a dozen televisions as he watched with rapt attention.
All around him were excited voices, but Josh's attention was focused on a
constant crawl of locations and numbers. A few times during the evening he would
drag his gaze away from the screens and search the crowd for Sam, his eyes full
of awe.
The electoral vote was turning out to be in favor of the Seaborn/Skinner ticket.
Sam kept looking at the board, watching state after state turn blue.
Unbelievable. A sea of blue in parts of the country that had overwhelmingly
elected Schiller four years earlier was attributable to Josh's infectious energy
and ability to strategize a situation in painstaking detail. Watching Josh plan
a campaign sweep was like watching a jeweler cut a perfect six-carat diamond.
"Senator, may I please get a picture?" asked a college-age volunteer, holding a
camera and smiling shyly. Sam waved someone over to take their photograph
together, then autographed the young man's "Seaborn for America" t-shirt with a
heavy black marker. He never tired of the exuberance of the people who'd
traveled with the team, the ones who made the phone calls and canvassed
neighborhoods, who arranged van pools and helped sort out voter registration
difficulties. No matter what happened tonight, he'd never forget that hundreds
of total strangers had given their precious time on behalf of his ideals.
Leo had taught him that.
"We got Texas!" Donna's delighted cry brought about a fresh round of applause
and cheers. Last-minute campaigning from former Vice-President John Hoynes -
also courtesy of Josh - had given them the electoral votes that put them
tantalizingly close to an early victory.
Nina cheered as ardently as anyone else, but as state after state went to Sam,
her face grew ever whiter until her dark brown eyes stood out like topaz against
the ivory of her skin. She clutched C.J.'s arm as a blue light went on behind
Texas, looking for all the world as if she might faint. Sam rushed up to her and
put his arm around her waist. "Are you okay?"
"How can you stand it?" she whispered through clenched teeth. "I can't even
breathe."
He had forgotten that this was the first election in which the stakes were
personal for Nina. And what a maiden voyage it was, with a win meaning a move
into the White House and living with eyes on the nation focused on her. So much
to ask, so willingly and lovingly given.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear. That, at least, brought spots of color to
her cheeks. Sam peeled Nina's fingers, one by one, from C.J.'s reddening forearm
and kept her hand fast in his.
"I'm glad, because I voted for you. Oh, I'm sorry," Nina said to C.J. as if
becoming aware that she'd used her as a pincushion.
She laughed, the silvery sound cutting easily through the din of two hundred
people in a ballroom. "It's okay. I've had worse on election night. It'll be
over in an hour - sooner, if we get early results from California and they go
our way."
Our way. Sam grinned at the thought. "Have we seen exit numbers?"
"Josh is calling Joey Lucas, and I'm calling...a few favors from here and there.
We'll know in an hour or so."
Only an hour. It was possible - probable - that he would be the incoming
President. So soon. Like a train coming at him through a tunnel.
He shook off the rising nervousness. He was ready. Matt was ready. He truly had
a staff to remember, the next generation of "the best and the brightest," and
everyone was working toward a common goal. Focused.
Nina shivered a little. It was instinct, second nature, to hold her closer, to
rub his palm along her arm. She looked up at him. "I'm so proud," she murmured.
"I can't believe this is really happening."
"That's how I felt in '98. I knew, but I didn't completely process it until days
later, when Toby gave me ten pages of inaugural address to write."
He remembered it all. The thrill of seeing his name on stationery with a picture
of the White House. The inane grins they shared at the most mundane tasks. The
first time C.J. lip-synched to "The Jackal." The fact that they were stunned
enough to enjoy meetings that would later seem stultifying.
Getting their names. Princeton, Flamingo. Oscar the Grouch, for Toby. Josh,
bristling at Motormouth. Josh again, on his first day back after the shooting,
standing with the President's arm around his shoulders as Ron gave him a new
name: Phoenix.
That memory jolted him back to the present. He leaned backwards, suddenly
lightheaded. He'd been Princeton for so, so long. But that was going to change.
POTUS.
"Oh, God," he breathed. Nina gave him an anxious look, and he tried to muster up
a smile for her. "It's okay. I'm good."
She raised an eyebrow and he kissed her on the forehead, burying his face in her
hair for a moment. It was likely to be one of the last times tonight they would
be allowed even that small privacy.
"Here it comes," Josh said. His whole body was a tightly coiled spring. He ran
one hand through his hair and with the other he turned the volume as far up as
he could. "Quiet, quiet!" he tried to yell, but his voice was failing him.
Toby stepped in. "Shut the hell up!" he bellowed.
"Polls on the West Coast are closed," said the announcer, "and even without the
total from California there is a clear winner in the Electoral College. We are
calling the 2010 Presidential Election for California Senator Samuel Seaborn."
Mad rush of blood through the ears. Pandemonium in the room. Cheers, screams,
champagne. Tears. Holding Nina, kissing her, hoping the passion in his lips
could even begin to thank her for what she'd sacrificed. Flashbulbs. Toby, one
arm around C.J. and the other around Donna, all three of them laughing and
crying at once.
Find Josh.
Sam scanned the massive crowd. No sign of unruly hair, no thousand-watt smile.
Everyone but the one who put him here, who believed it could be done and let
nothing get in his way. "Where's Josh?" he asked Donna as she wrapped her arms
around his neck and held on for dear life.
"Upstairs, I think - C.J., where did Josh go?"
"Media's in the hall. He's probably dealing with them," C.J. reminded Sam as she
kissed him on the cheek. "They'll be breaking down the doors in about ten
seconds."
"I want to talk to Josh," Sam called over the heads of the people who were
descending upon him. "Find him."
C.J. gave Donna a push, dislodging her from Toby's embrace. "Go."
"I'll just..." Donna pointed toward the door. Her finger shook, and she looked
absolutely dazed. "Go. Find him."
"Is she okay?" Nina asked.
"Sure she is." C.J. didn't sound convinced. "If she's not back in ten minutes,
Toby, you go find her. I'm going to stay here with Sam, just in case there's a
media issue. Matt - over here!"
Media issue didn't even come close to describing what happened next. It was a
feeding frenzy the likes of which Sam hadn't seen since the first Bartlet
election. Maybe not even then. He managed to drape his arm around Nina and smile
broadly as the cameras pointed at him.
"As you can imagine," he began, "things are a little loud right now, but I'll do
my best for you. First and foremost, I want to thank the voters of the United
States for their extraordinary support. And my good friend, soon-to-be Vice
President Matthew Skinner - oh, here he is." He held his hand out to Matt, who
shook it before enfolding Sam in a hug. "We haven't had a chance to talk to each
other since we found out just now, so please bear with us."
Laughing, Matt kissed Nina on the cheek and stood on the other side of her. "Did
you say thank you?" he asked Sam.
"I started with that, actually. And now, I'd like to thank my opponent,
President Gregory Schiller, for a well-run campaign that kept me on my toes."
"Has he called?" asked a reporter.
"I...I honestly don't know. If the phone's ringing in here, there's no way I'd
be able to hear it." Laughter. It relaxed him, let him give a genuine smile to
the assembled journalists. Flashes went off again and again as he held Matt's
hand up in the air. "Have you seen Josh?" Sam asked out of the corner of his
mouth. Matt gave his head a slight shake.
"What are you going to do with the rest of your evening?" was another question.
"Well, I'm going to start by sitting down for the first time since I drove to
the polls this morning. I think food's a good idea, too. But right this minute?"
He turned his head, taking in the streamers, the dancing, the music and cheers.
"I think I'm going to drink this in for a little bit. How about a press
conference tomorrow, eight a.m.?"
"Yes, sir," agreed the reporters as a group as they disbanded, eager to
interview other campaign staffers.
Sam watched them wander off, microphones and video cameras in hand. Before he
had a chance to ask if anyone had found Josh, Ginger ran up to him with a cell
phone in her hand. "It's President Schiller," she said. "It's the...well, you
know."
Wow. This was going to be hard.
"Where can I take this call? Is there any place that's not, you know, totally
over the edge?"
Ginger took him by the hand and led him to the women's bathroom.
"You are kidding me."
"This one's off-limits to anyone but Nina." She patted him on the arm. "You did
well, boss. I even voted for you."
"Thanks. I think." He waved her off and leaned against the sink. He was taking
the concession call from the outgoing President of the United States, standing
in the women's restroom with his back against a sink.
Definitely surreal.
"Mr. President? This is Sam Seaborn."
"I'm sorry, Senator - the President was called away on an emergency. This is
Saundra Hoffman, his personal assistant. The President wishes to offer you his
congratulations and to tell you that he concedes the 2010 elections. Thank you
for taking my call."
"Thank you, Ms. Hoffman." He flipped the phone shut. Wow. Not so hard.
Toby was waiting for him when he came out of the bathroom. "That's the ladies'
room, there, Sam."
"Look, Ginger put me in there to take Schiller's call - although it wasn't
Schiller, it was his personal assistant."
"Wow. You've been elected for five minutes, and you're already getting dissed."
Sam fought back the impulse to burst into hysterical laughter. Toby's face was a
study in contrast, the grouchy mouth offset by the twinkle in his eyes. "If
that's an omen, I'm moving to Bolivia. Has anyone seen Josh?"
"I did, yes." Toby's hand went into his beard, and Sam could have sworn that he
was masking a grin. "He was, as God is my witness, asking Donna to the Inaugural
Ball, and by the time I finished, you know, vomiting, he'd wandered off. But
right now you need to get to a television. Jed's going to say a few words."
They strode briskly to a smaller room with a television and just enough room for
Sam, Matt, Gary, Nina, Toby, and C.J. "Donna tried to go to the ladies' room,
but the Secret Service stopped her," C.J. said. "So they put her in the men's
room."
"That makes as much sense as anything else I've heard in the last ten minutes."
He focused his attention on the screen. "He looks pretty good."
"Yeah - Abbey called a few minutes ago to tell us he'd be on. He's pretty perky
tonight." C.J. turned up the volume. "Here we go."
Bartlet was seated in his favorite chair with Abbey at his side. "Of course I'm
pleased about tonight's victory. I even voted for him."
Matt slapped Sam on the back. "I voted for you, too. No wonder you did so well."
Gary shushed him, then everyone turned back to the former President as he spoke
about the future President.
"I met Sam Seaborn on a cold, wet day at the campaign headquarters in
Manchester. He came in with Joshua Lyman - whose name I still hadn't quite
mastered - and my campaign manager, Leo McGarry, said Sam would be writing for
me. I was thinking about a thousand things then, as you can imagine, so I just
stuck out my hand without really looking up. There was something in his voice
when he said he was pleased to meet me...I can't quite describe it. But it made
me look at him, and what I saw when I looked into his eyes wasn't a pretty face.
It was a beautiful soul.
"Now, that doesn't mean that I remembered his name right away, either. I used to
get him mixed up with Toby Ziegler, if you can believe that." Toby hunched his
shoulders and glared at the television. "But it all came together the night of
the Illinois primary. Josh's father died unexpectedly and I saw him off at the
airport, then I went back to the hotel to give the speech Sam had written for
me. Those words were so powerful, so strong and magnificent, that I had to go
track him down and talk to him. Really talk to him, for the first time.
"Here he was, being congratulated by the new Democratic nominee for President,
but his mind wasn't on the praise. It was on Josh's loss. There aren't too many
men who wouldn't have forgotten a friend's pain, or at least set it aside. Sam
even apologized for his lack of focus on my words - but I admired that in him
and I told him so.
"Over the years, he became a valued advisor and trusted friend. When he decided
to move on to other things, it almost broke my heart. But I knew he was destined
for this. The only thing to do was to let him try his wings and offer my prayers
that he would soar."
Bartlet sat forward in the chair. His face was thin, his hair almost completely
gray, and there was a slight stiffness in his posture. None of those things
could dim the compassion and intelligence in his eyes as he finished his remarks
with a simple declaration.
"I'm so very proud of you, Sam."
Some pundits appeared on the screen, saying they'd be back after a commercial.
Sam switched the television off, his heart too full for the speech his friends
seemed to expect. "I'm going to find Josh," he murmured.
He picked up four Secret Service agents as he started walking up and down the
halls. Finally, one of the agents asked him what he needed. "Oh, Mr. Lyman's in
his room."
"In his room? He's just sitting up there, by himself?"
"Yes, sir," the agent replied.
Frowning, imagining a dozen improbable scenarios, Sam took off quickly for
Josh's room and knocked on the door. "Josh? You there?"
"Yeah. Just a minute." The door opened, showing Josh in shirt sleeves, his tie
undone. "Did you need something?"
Sam turned to the agents. "Could we have the room, please?" he asked, and after
a quick look through the room the agents withdrew. Sam could still see their
feet through the crack at the bottom of the door. He turned to Josh. "Are you
okay?"
Josh's hands were in front of his mouth, almost in an attitude of prayer.
"I'm...fine," he said abently. "It was just too crowded in there, that's all."
"It's a little insane." Sam sat down, motioning for Josh to take a seat in the
other chair. "Are you coming to the party? It'll be just us and a few of the
lead staffers, no big crowds."
"In a minute. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Sighing, Josh bowed his head. "I miss them."
Sam was lost. "Who?"
"Leo. My dad. They were the two people whose recognition I craved more than any
others. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to do it for you."
"Josh." Sam ducked, making Josh meet his eyes. "You did magnificently. There's
no way any of this would have happened if it weren't for you."
"I appreciate that. Truly. But I miss them, Sam," Josh said, his voice breaking.
"I miss them so much."
"I feel the same way." Sam let Josh pull himself together before continuing.
"They'd have loved what you accomplished. There's not another person in America
- hell, there's not another person on this planet who could have gotten me
elected President. Don't let yourself forget that, ever." He stood up and
extended his hand to Josh, who looked up at him with tears in his eyes. Sam felt
wetness on his own face and realized that he, too, was crying.
Josh tugged at Sam's hand and they embraced, holding one another tightly. "Thank
you, Josh," Sam whispered. "Thank you for...all of it."
"You're welcome." Josh took a step backwards, catching his breath, and a sudden
smile dawned on his face like the light of a new day. He cocked his head toward
the door. "You should get to the party."
Sam nodded, reaching for the doorknob. Josh stopped him, opening the door with a
flourish and stepping aside.
"Let's go downstairs," he said softly. His voice was laden with emotion. "After
you, Mr. President."
***
End "Beginning to Believe"
The final chapter, "The Triumph of Principles," will be available soon.
Jo and Ria - thank you. There should be more to say, and better ways to say it,
but...nothing else will do.
Feedback would be adored at Marguerite@operamail.com.
Back to West Wing .
November - Election Night
Washington, D.C.
***
Sam spent the evening mingling with campaign workers, posing for photos, talking
to enthusiastic volunteers. Once in a while he would glance up at a monitor as
results came in from east to west. Then he would look over at Josh, whose face
was bathed in the glow of a dozen televisions as he watched with rapt attention.
All around him were excited voices, but Josh's attention was focused on a
constant crawl of locations and numbers. A few times during the evening he would
drag his gaze away from the screens and search the crowd for Sam, his eyes full
of awe.
The electoral vote was turning out to be in favor of the Seaborn/Skinner ticket.
Sam kept looking at the board, watching state after state turn blue.
Unbelievable. A sea of blue in parts of the country that had overwhelmingly
elected Schiller four years earlier was attributable to Josh's infectious energy
and ability to strategize a situation in painstaking detail. Watching Josh plan
a campaign sweep was like watching a jeweler cut a perfect six-carat diamond.
"Senator, may I please get a picture?" asked a college-age volunteer, holding a
camera and smiling shyly. Sam waved someone over to take their photograph
together, then autographed the young man's "Seaborn for America" t-shirt with a
heavy black marker. He never tired of the exuberance of the people who'd
traveled with the team, the ones who made the phone calls and canvassed
neighborhoods, who arranged van pools and helped sort out voter registration
difficulties. No matter what happened tonight, he'd never forget that hundreds
of total strangers had given their precious time on behalf of his ideals.
Leo had taught him that.
"We got Texas!" Donna's delighted cry brought about a fresh round of applause
and cheers. Last-minute campaigning from former Vice-President John Hoynes -
also courtesy of Josh - had given them the electoral votes that put them
tantalizingly close to an early victory.
Nina cheered as ardently as anyone else, but as state after state went to Sam,
her face grew ever whiter until her dark brown eyes stood out like topaz against
the ivory of her skin. She clutched C.J.'s arm as a blue light went on behind
Texas, looking for all the world as if she might faint. Sam rushed up to her and
put his arm around her waist. "Are you okay?"
"How can you stand it?" she whispered through clenched teeth. "I can't even
breathe."
He had forgotten that this was the first election in which the stakes were
personal for Nina. And what a maiden voyage it was, with a win meaning a move
into the White House and living with eyes on the nation focused on her. So much
to ask, so willingly and lovingly given.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear. That, at least, brought spots of color to
her cheeks. Sam peeled Nina's fingers, one by one, from C.J.'s reddening forearm
and kept her hand fast in his.
"I'm glad, because I voted for you. Oh, I'm sorry," Nina said to C.J. as if
becoming aware that she'd used her as a pincushion.
She laughed, the silvery sound cutting easily through the din of two hundred
people in a ballroom. "It's okay. I've had worse on election night. It'll be
over in an hour - sooner, if we get early results from California and they go
our way."
Our way. Sam grinned at the thought. "Have we seen exit numbers?"
"Josh is calling Joey Lucas, and I'm calling...a few favors from here and there.
We'll know in an hour or so."
Only an hour. It was possible - probable - that he would be the incoming
President. So soon. Like a train coming at him through a tunnel.
He shook off the rising nervousness. He was ready. Matt was ready. He truly had
a staff to remember, the next generation of "the best and the brightest," and
everyone was working toward a common goal. Focused.
Nina shivered a little. It was instinct, second nature, to hold her closer, to
rub his palm along her arm. She looked up at him. "I'm so proud," she murmured.
"I can't believe this is really happening."
"That's how I felt in '98. I knew, but I didn't completely process it until days
later, when Toby gave me ten pages of inaugural address to write."
He remembered it all. The thrill of seeing his name on stationery with a picture
of the White House. The inane grins they shared at the most mundane tasks. The
first time C.J. lip-synched to "The Jackal." The fact that they were stunned
enough to enjoy meetings that would later seem stultifying.
Getting their names. Princeton, Flamingo. Oscar the Grouch, for Toby. Josh,
bristling at Motormouth. Josh again, on his first day back after the shooting,
standing with the President's arm around his shoulders as Ron gave him a new
name: Phoenix.
That memory jolted him back to the present. He leaned backwards, suddenly
lightheaded. He'd been Princeton for so, so long. But that was going to change.
POTUS.
"Oh, God," he breathed. Nina gave him an anxious look, and he tried to muster up
a smile for her. "It's okay. I'm good."
She raised an eyebrow and he kissed her on the forehead, burying his face in her
hair for a moment. It was likely to be one of the last times tonight they would
be allowed even that small privacy.
"Here it comes," Josh said. His whole body was a tightly coiled spring. He ran
one hand through his hair and with the other he turned the volume as far up as
he could. "Quiet, quiet!" he tried to yell, but his voice was failing him.
Toby stepped in. "Shut the hell up!" he bellowed.
"Polls on the West Coast are closed," said the announcer, "and even without the
total from California there is a clear winner in the Electoral College. We are
calling the 2010 Presidential Election for California Senator Samuel Seaborn."
Mad rush of blood through the ears. Pandemonium in the room. Cheers, screams,
champagne. Tears. Holding Nina, kissing her, hoping the passion in his lips
could even begin to thank her for what she'd sacrificed. Flashbulbs. Toby, one
arm around C.J. and the other around Donna, all three of them laughing and
crying at once.
Find Josh.
Sam scanned the massive crowd. No sign of unruly hair, no thousand-watt smile.
Everyone but the one who put him here, who believed it could be done and let
nothing get in his way. "Where's Josh?" he asked Donna as she wrapped her arms
around his neck and held on for dear life.
"Upstairs, I think - C.J., where did Josh go?"
"Media's in the hall. He's probably dealing with them," C.J. reminded Sam as she
kissed him on the cheek. "They'll be breaking down the doors in about ten
seconds."
"I want to talk to Josh," Sam called over the heads of the people who were
descending upon him. "Find him."
C.J. gave Donna a push, dislodging her from Toby's embrace. "Go."
"I'll just..." Donna pointed toward the door. Her finger shook, and she looked
absolutely dazed. "Go. Find him."
"Is she okay?" Nina asked.
"Sure she is." C.J. didn't sound convinced. "If she's not back in ten minutes,
Toby, you go find her. I'm going to stay here with Sam, just in case there's a
media issue. Matt - over here!"
Media issue didn't even come close to describing what happened next. It was a
feeding frenzy the likes of which Sam hadn't seen since the first Bartlet
election. Maybe not even then. He managed to drape his arm around Nina and smile
broadly as the cameras pointed at him.
"As you can imagine," he began, "things are a little loud right now, but I'll do
my best for you. First and foremost, I want to thank the voters of the United
States for their extraordinary support. And my good friend, soon-to-be Vice
President Matthew Skinner - oh, here he is." He held his hand out to Matt, who
shook it before enfolding Sam in a hug. "We haven't had a chance to talk to each
other since we found out just now, so please bear with us."
Laughing, Matt kissed Nina on the cheek and stood on the other side of her. "Did
you say thank you?" he asked Sam.
"I started with that, actually. And now, I'd like to thank my opponent,
President Gregory Schiller, for a well-run campaign that kept me on my toes."
"Has he called?" asked a reporter.
"I...I honestly don't know. If the phone's ringing in here, there's no way I'd
be able to hear it." Laughter. It relaxed him, let him give a genuine smile to
the assembled journalists. Flashes went off again and again as he held Matt's
hand up in the air. "Have you seen Josh?" Sam asked out of the corner of his
mouth. Matt gave his head a slight shake.
"What are you going to do with the rest of your evening?" was another question.
"Well, I'm going to start by sitting down for the first time since I drove to
the polls this morning. I think food's a good idea, too. But right this minute?"
He turned his head, taking in the streamers, the dancing, the music and cheers.
"I think I'm going to drink this in for a little bit. How about a press
conference tomorrow, eight a.m.?"
"Yes, sir," agreed the reporters as a group as they disbanded, eager to
interview other campaign staffers.
Sam watched them wander off, microphones and video cameras in hand. Before he
had a chance to ask if anyone had found Josh, Ginger ran up to him with a cell
phone in her hand. "It's President Schiller," she said. "It's the...well, you
know."
Wow. This was going to be hard.
"Where can I take this call? Is there any place that's not, you know, totally
over the edge?"
Ginger took him by the hand and led him to the women's bathroom.
"You are kidding me."
"This one's off-limits to anyone but Nina." She patted him on the arm. "You did
well, boss. I even voted for you."
"Thanks. I think." He waved her off and leaned against the sink. He was taking
the concession call from the outgoing President of the United States, standing
in the women's restroom with his back against a sink.
Definitely surreal.
"Mr. President? This is Sam Seaborn."
"I'm sorry, Senator - the President was called away on an emergency. This is
Saundra Hoffman, his personal assistant. The President wishes to offer you his
congratulations and to tell you that he concedes the 2010 elections. Thank you
for taking my call."
"Thank you, Ms. Hoffman." He flipped the phone shut. Wow. Not so hard.
Toby was waiting for him when he came out of the bathroom. "That's the ladies'
room, there, Sam."
"Look, Ginger put me in there to take Schiller's call - although it wasn't
Schiller, it was his personal assistant."
"Wow. You've been elected for five minutes, and you're already getting dissed."
Sam fought back the impulse to burst into hysterical laughter. Toby's face was a
study in contrast, the grouchy mouth offset by the twinkle in his eyes. "If
that's an omen, I'm moving to Bolivia. Has anyone seen Josh?"
"I did, yes." Toby's hand went into his beard, and Sam could have sworn that he
was masking a grin. "He was, as God is my witness, asking Donna to the Inaugural
Ball, and by the time I finished, you know, vomiting, he'd wandered off. But
right now you need to get to a television. Jed's going to say a few words."
They strode briskly to a smaller room with a television and just enough room for
Sam, Matt, Gary, Nina, Toby, and C.J. "Donna tried to go to the ladies' room,
but the Secret Service stopped her," C.J. said. "So they put her in the men's
room."
"That makes as much sense as anything else I've heard in the last ten minutes."
He focused his attention on the screen. "He looks pretty good."
"Yeah - Abbey called a few minutes ago to tell us he'd be on. He's pretty perky
tonight." C.J. turned up the volume. "Here we go."
Bartlet was seated in his favorite chair with Abbey at his side. "Of course I'm
pleased about tonight's victory. I even voted for him."
Matt slapped Sam on the back. "I voted for you, too. No wonder you did so well."
Gary shushed him, then everyone turned back to the former President as he spoke
about the future President.
"I met Sam Seaborn on a cold, wet day at the campaign headquarters in
Manchester. He came in with Joshua Lyman - whose name I still hadn't quite
mastered - and my campaign manager, Leo McGarry, said Sam would be writing for
me. I was thinking about a thousand things then, as you can imagine, so I just
stuck out my hand without really looking up. There was something in his voice
when he said he was pleased to meet me...I can't quite describe it. But it made
me look at him, and what I saw when I looked into his eyes wasn't a pretty face.
It was a beautiful soul.
"Now, that doesn't mean that I remembered his name right away, either. I used to
get him mixed up with Toby Ziegler, if you can believe that." Toby hunched his
shoulders and glared at the television. "But it all came together the night of
the Illinois primary. Josh's father died unexpectedly and I saw him off at the
airport, then I went back to the hotel to give the speech Sam had written for
me. Those words were so powerful, so strong and magnificent, that I had to go
track him down and talk to him. Really talk to him, for the first time.
"Here he was, being congratulated by the new Democratic nominee for President,
but his mind wasn't on the praise. It was on Josh's loss. There aren't too many
men who wouldn't have forgotten a friend's pain, or at least set it aside. Sam
even apologized for his lack of focus on my words - but I admired that in him
and I told him so.
"Over the years, he became a valued advisor and trusted friend. When he decided
to move on to other things, it almost broke my heart. But I knew he was destined
for this. The only thing to do was to let him try his wings and offer my prayers
that he would soar."
Bartlet sat forward in the chair. His face was thin, his hair almost completely
gray, and there was a slight stiffness in his posture. None of those things
could dim the compassion and intelligence in his eyes as he finished his remarks
with a simple declaration.
"I'm so very proud of you, Sam."
Some pundits appeared on the screen, saying they'd be back after a commercial.
Sam switched the television off, his heart too full for the speech his friends
seemed to expect. "I'm going to find Josh," he murmured.
He picked up four Secret Service agents as he started walking up and down the
halls. Finally, one of the agents asked him what he needed. "Oh, Mr. Lyman's in
his room."
"In his room? He's just sitting up there, by himself?"
"Yes, sir," the agent replied.
Frowning, imagining a dozen improbable scenarios, Sam took off quickly for
Josh's room and knocked on the door. "Josh? You there?"
"Yeah. Just a minute." The door opened, showing Josh in shirt sleeves, his tie
undone. "Did you need something?"
Sam turned to the agents. "Could we have the room, please?" he asked, and after
a quick look through the room the agents withdrew. Sam could still see their
feet through the crack at the bottom of the door. He turned to Josh. "Are you
okay?"
Josh's hands were in front of his mouth, almost in an attitude of prayer.
"I'm...fine," he said abently. "It was just too crowded in there, that's all."
"It's a little insane." Sam sat down, motioning for Josh to take a seat in the
other chair. "Are you coming to the party? It'll be just us and a few of the
lead staffers, no big crowds."
"In a minute. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Sighing, Josh bowed his head. "I miss them."
Sam was lost. "Who?"
"Leo. My dad. They were the two people whose recognition I craved more than any
others. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to do it for you."
"Josh." Sam ducked, making Josh meet his eyes. "You did magnificently. There's
no way any of this would have happened if it weren't for you."
"I appreciate that. Truly. But I miss them, Sam," Josh said, his voice breaking.
"I miss them so much."
"I feel the same way." Sam let Josh pull himself together before continuing.
"They'd have loved what you accomplished. There's not another person in America
- hell, there's not another person on this planet who could have gotten me
elected President. Don't let yourself forget that, ever." He stood up and
extended his hand to Josh, who looked up at him with tears in his eyes. Sam felt
wetness on his own face and realized that he, too, was crying.
Josh tugged at Sam's hand and they embraced, holding one another tightly. "Thank
you, Josh," Sam whispered. "Thank you for...all of it."
"You're welcome." Josh took a step backwards, catching his breath, and a sudden
smile dawned on his face like the light of a new day. He cocked his head toward
the door. "You should get to the party."
Sam nodded, reaching for the doorknob. Josh stopped him, opening the door with a
flourish and stepping aside.
"Let's go downstairs," he said softly. His voice was laden with emotion. "After
you, Mr. President."
***
End "Beginning to Believe"
The final chapter, "The Triumph of Principles," will be available soon.
Jo and Ria - thank you. There should be more to say, and better ways to say it,
but...nothing else will do.
Feedback would be adored at Marguerite@operamail.com.
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