Authors: Ellie and Westwinger247
Posted:
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
The chill of the morning air and a dusting of freshly melted snow flakes colored Sam Seaborn's cheeks as he made his way down the hall to his office. His glasses were unfogging slowly as he took a tentative sip from his steaming cup of coffee.
January was turning into a pleasant affair--meteorologically speaking--in Sam's opinion. The snow made the air crisp without being frigid. The harsh sounds of the city were muffled under the blanket of serene white. It gave his mood a boost, which was quite a feat for crystallized drops of water. The cold outside was infinitely more pleasant than the harsh atmosphere within the office of late.
"Did you read this?" Toby raged at Sam the moment he entered the bullpen.
"No," Sam said simply as he entered his office. He shrugged off his coat then dumped the hot contents of the paper container into his hefty White House mug.
The New Hampshire primary was on the horizon and while there was no doubt the President would take his home state the question of numbers was troubling. For a man who, until the previous May, polled at close to an average of 73 percent aproval rating there, less than stellar results in the primary would deliver a severe blow to the national strategy Toby had been devising with Leo and Bruno. That point was where much of the tempests in the office were started. Josh had been edged in several discussions about political tactics. Sam as well, but he was not as concerned about his position. Toby appeared to be holding the reigns for communication and held the only open channel to Bruno Geonelli's ear for political maneuvering. Sam wasn't sure that was wise, but his objections--like Josh's--fell on the seemingly deaf ears of Leo McGarry.
"Bruno had my head for breakfast so now I'm having yours..." Toby began but was cut off as Sam continued to enjoy his morning.
"I wasn't listening," Sam said with a pleasant expression. "This is outstanding coffee, Toby. That new place just around the corner from the parking lot is fabulous. I don't know what they do that 's different, but this stuff is... amazing."
"Romper Room!" Toby shouted, uninterested in Sam's caffienated joys. "Like Romper Room 10 minutes before nap time!"
"He didn't mean it," Sam replied with a confident nod.
"I'm sorry?"
"Josh didn't mean it like that," Sam said unconcerned. "Okay, he meant it, but in a Josh way. He was a little agitated and sometimes his mouth gets away from him. And I'd have to say I don't think he's entirely wrong. Everyone is a little cranky lately. Just don't take it personally."
"Josh?" Toby repeated, his mood darkening further.
Toby's face blanched with a moment of surprise then angry red, pulsing bars formed along the edges of his cheekbones. His mouth hung open for a moment then his jaws clamped shut. He took a deep, searing breath through his nose and rubbed on hand over his head.
"Toby?"
He tossed the morning edition of The Baltimore Sun onto Sam's desk and glared back at his deputy. Sam adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before peering at the paper. It was open to page nine--hardly the most important of pages. Then again, Sam thought, The Sun is hardly the most important of papers. He scanned the columns until he came to the one with the red ink circling the three last paragraphs.
The story was about the DNC and some fundraising, but that was not what had stoked Bruno and then Toby's ire. The last sentences mentioned the re-election bid of the President and how the DNC was coping with the party leader's revelation the previous spring. There had been hundreds of such stories by that mid-December--the interior placement of the story was a testament of what a non-story it had become--but there was something new to this article. There was information attributed to an unnamed source that referred to the President's senior advisors in the Romper Room context that had Toby so vexed.
"The attribution is 'an official working within the senior staff,'" Sam said.
"It's bad writing, but I'll forgive this guy," Toby said. "Josh is another story."
"He wouldn't do this," Sam said. "He'd never."
"Josh and never are two words I don't use in the same sentence," Toby replied. "We need to see Leo. Get Josh."
Toby stormed out of Sam' office and made a beeline to the Chief of Staff's layer. Sam sighed and took a last peaceful sip of his liquid heaven before hanging his head and searching for Josh.
*****************
Josh stood in Leo's office, his back leaning against the wall as he read Toby's mangled copy of The Sun. The smirk on his face was undeniable. He was not pleased by Bruno's accusation or Toby's glare, but he was not surprised either. Two previous digs in as many weeks at the administration appearing in The Sun, under the same byline of Darren Mellecheck, garnered long, drew sharp remarks from the hired political strategist and questioning stares from the speechwriter. Each time the source of the less-than-flattering portrayal was veiled as 'an official working within the senior staff.' Josh knew, as well as anyone in the room that could be anyone. That the comments sounded strikingly like things Josh had said was something that concerned the Deputy Chief of Staff and predictably irritated the hired guns now calling the behind the scene shots of the campaign, but was most worrisome was Toby's reaction. Shouting was expected, but there was more anger and rage in his expression than such a tiny snafu would appear to merit.
"You think this is funny?" Bruno seethed.
"The article or the way your eyes twitch like that?" Josh remarked.
"Josh," Leo sighed from behind his desk. "You got anything to say?"
"Sure," Josh said easily. "About what?"
"Leo, this has got to stop!" Toby shouted.
Leo's scowl deepened, as he kept both of his staffers in his sights, not sure with whom he was angrier: his deputy for his flip attitude on a morning Leo specifically requested there be no mirth in this office; or his communications director for his hotheaded prosecution of the case.
"What?" Josh asked.
"This!" Bruno barked and swatted at the page in the deputy chief's hand.
"I didn't say it," Josh shrugged.
"Actually, you did," Sam offered, trying to be helpful. "What I think he means, Leo, is that he didn't call this..."
"You're not his attorney," Toby said cutting off Sam's explanation.
"Do I need one?" Josh asked.
"You'll need a medical team if this happens again," Bruno warned.
It was the icy, calm tone in Toby's voice that perked Josh's interest. Bruno's dissatisfaction was an old nemesis and one that was as necessary as it was boring. Josh had blown an opportunity to lock up several key states when he fumbled a funding battle over a lawsuit pending against big tobacco. Bruno slapped his wrist and Josh learned his lesson: Don't go off half-cocked over political issues. It was a valuable lesson and was one that Josh was certain he would violate countless times in the future, but for the sake of the campaign, he was keeping himself on as short a leash as possible. It was the hyper-conscious self-censoring that was the main source of his in-office grumbling lately. Bruno's shouting and insulting tone were the man's calling cards. They did not concern Josh. What did was Toby's cold stare. He was one who normally relieved his stress by venting in mighty decibels over minor issues. When he resorted to icy stares and lower tones in an overly controlled voice, Josh knew there was blood in the water.
"I didn't make the call," Josh said succinctly. "Bruno, your tantrums aren't nearly as entertaining as they were a month ago, and Toby, your paranoia is reaching parody proportions."
"Toby," Bruno snapped as he grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door, "I'm counting on you--though the faith I have in that is negligible at best. Leo, your people are trying to kill me; I want you to know they will fail. I have no heart, therefore I cannot die."
Bruno turned deftly on his heel and departed. The room was silent as four men in the room listened to the door slam behind him.
"You don't normally see that kind of indignation from a man who has no morals," Sam remarked. "A diva on a late night soap opera maybe but...."
"Okay, enough" the Chief of Staff commanded.
"Paranoia?" Toby snarled. "You call this paranoia? Josh, if you're mad because you aren't the big man on the campaign that's tough. You want to call people names, do it right here. Going outside to do it.... Josh, there's a reason you're not the one calling the political shots this time around."
"Toby, I think you're missing the..." Sam started but was cut off.
"I've got a senior staffer being quoted in the media in ways that make it look like this place is imploding," Toby continued. "The only thing I'm missing is a little team work! I have enough problems with the world out there already, Josh. You want to have a tantrum, do it in the privacy of your own home and do it by yourself."
"Toby," Leo sighed as he rose from his seat.
"You're a speech writer," Josh said with acid on his tongue. "That doesn't give you license to be the thought police. Neither you nor Godfather Geonelli are my father; and you're not my boss either so you pretty much has no right to tell me what I can and can't do."
"Josh..." Sam said stepping in between the two men.
"Where you're concerned as far as this office goes, as of now I am both of those things," Toby proclaimed. "You don't talk to a reporter for any reason--at all--you don't even look at one without clearing it with me first. I mean this, Leo."
"Toby, its a non-story," Sam said.
"Who the hell do you think..." Josh began.
"Josh, please," Sam said calmly holding up a hand to halt his statement. "Toby, this is not important. Besides, Josh has the world's worst poker face. He just denied this, and I believe him. You know Josh is the last person who would pull a stunt like this for any reason. I think you might be over-reacting to a simple case of slick wording in a report designed to do just what it is doing."
"This is not nothing?" Toby reiterated. "We can't make it seem like we're floundering within if we want the public to see us as unified and ready to...."
"This report hints that there is discord among politicians in Washington," Sam summarized. "That ranks up there on the danger scale right along side the weather report that says the sun's gonna rise at 7:05 a.m tomorrow. No one cares."
"I care," Toby said.
"Let me get this straight," Josh said.
"Josh..." Sam sighed.
"No, Sam," Josh said firmly. "I've been convicted and sentenced. I have a right to face my accuser. I do recall that from a law class. A story is written that contains a summary of a comment I said in a meeting with about 40 people, therefore I am guilty of trying to sink the campaign because I'm mad that I don't get to be captain of the team?"
"It's more than one article," Toby said. "This is the third in four weeks. Those have been your opinions. Call me paranoid. Fine, but I'm in charge of the message around here! I don't like the message you're sending. Your opinions are unfounded, unwarranted, unsolicited and unproductive. I'm putting a stop to it."
"You're revoking the First Amendment?"
"No, I'm putting you under gag orders," Toby retorted. "As of now, Josh. End of discussion."
"Toby, you want to.... handle me?" Josh gasped. "Is that it? Because I'm a what? A liability? A mole? A saboteur?"
"You're emotionally unstable is what you are!" Toby snapped then turned his head away.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Josh blinked several times, searching for his voice but not finding it immediately. The others in the room held their breath, waiting for the reaction, any reaction. They were denied. Josh said nothing.
"Josh," Leo said hesitantly.
His deputy shook his head then waved off any further overtures with a dark and dangerous expression as he merely shook his head.
"All right," Leo growled. "This isn't recess and I don't have time to play referee with my own staff. Josh, pack your bags. You're heading to New Hampshire."
"When?"
"Tonight," Leo said, shuffling through several folders on his desk before handing one to his deputy. "Joey's people sent us the latest numbers. We need to get more than 54 percent in the primary; we're gonna win it, but I don't want to fall behind our numbers last time. The comparisons will hurt us. No one's gonna care that we won if we don't do at least as well as in '98. As of this morning, we're at 51. Think you can handle it?"
"Yes, sir," Josh said then breezed out of the room without looking at Toby.
"Toby, you were so completely out of line," Sam said to his boss as soon as Josh was out of the room.
The Communication Director's own expression indicated he agreed. His emotions, the latest round of polling, and a dizzying lack of sleep had gotten the better of him. But that didn't make him wrong, he contended. There was a leak somewhere and this ship was barely seaworthy as it was. Toby wasn't sure how much more water they could take on before they all went under.
"Get over it, Sam," Leo growled. "No one here needs to be treated like precious china. But he's got a point, Toby. Hardball is good, but I drawn the line at sucker punching the staff in my office."
"Are you saying that you trust him implicitly?" Toby questioned. "You trust Josh?"
"That's what I said."
"Implicitly?" Toby repeated.
"Is there an echo?" the Chief of Staff countered.
"So why are you and Cyranno running Operation Chastity Belt?" Toby asked with a flat tone and expression.
"Toby..." Sam started but then stopped as he caught Leo's glare.
"You trust him so much," Toby ranted. "He's such a professional yet neither of you can't trust him to be alone with his own assistant for fear of... "
"Okay," Leo snapped. "That's enough."
"I've hardly started," Toby fumed.
"We're done," Leo said firmly as he took his seat again.
"On that I agree," Toby jabbed as he turned toward the door. "Oh, and you might want to rethink his trip or add another body to the rouster."
"Why is that?" Leo asked.
"Because Donna will be going with him," Toby said curtly. "Without someone there, Josh might smile at her or something and there seems to be a pervading fear in this office that such a travesty will bring the universe to an end."
*****************
The Sunnday before the New Hampshire Primary arrived and with it yet another snowstorm. Josh had been traveled the length of New Hampshire in the three days he had been in the President's homeland. The campaign headquarters in Nashua was bustling with phones constantly ringing and dozens of DNC loyalists stuffing envelopes and making calls to bring out the vote. The rest of the White House Senior Staff was descending upon the state in phases. Toby was arriving the following day, Sam the day after. Leo and the President would be coming into town later that afternoon to press the flesh and talk with local and national news affiliates at a town meeting scheduled for Monday evening. Just that morning, Josh had picked up CJ at the airport. Her mood was cantankerous. In Josh's opinion, life in the White House was spoiling her. Her gripes and complains about domestic air travel made him consider leaving her in the airport terminal.
Instead, he brought her to the hotel. He even held the door for her when she entered. That he did not carry her bags should not have surprised her, in his opinion. Still, she managed to become incensed throughout her check in proceedings and along the way back to headquarters.
There was only so much he could take.
"I will hurt you," CJ said as she threw open the door to the offices on Main Street. "Do you hear me? I'm serious, Josh!"
Josh followed in her wake, sporting a smirk. He was fighting a valiant effort not to burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"How could you?" she yelled.
"Well, easily apparently," he answered.
The entire room turned to watch the display. The snow outside was swirling at a maddening rate in the lazy Saturday afternoon; there was a rally that evening and most of the details had been dealt with before breakfast. All that was left was a final meeting with the staff in 12 hours and the waiting.
"I can't believe you!"
"You started it," he retorted.
"I was playing!" CJ shouted. "You don't play fair!"
"You kind of had to expect that," he told her with a sage nod.
"No, I kind of didn't," she protested. "It was a simple snowball, Josh. It broke apart in the air before it even got near you."
"It's an invitation," he explained then turned to the room. "Every native of New England in this room, please raise your hands."
Twenty of the 30 people lifted their hands in response.
"Okay, now I ask you good people, if someone--on a day in the midst of weather such as this--throws even a single, ill-formed snow projectile in your general direction, what, if any, is the required response?"
"Retaliate," said a voice from the back firmly.
"Thank you," Josh remarked, folding his arms and staring at CJ. "It was a moral imperative. Any dissension?"
"Yeah, from me," she replied. "I'm from California."
"It's amazing what you've had to overcome in your life," Josh said patting her on the shoulder and walking toward his makeshift office.
"Joshua!" she bellowed. "I did not ask you to put snow down my back!"
"No kidding," he said glancing back over his shoulder briefly. "That would have taken the fun and spontaneity out of it."
Donna waited for him outside his office. She was enjoying the show and mildly disappointed she hadn't been invited along. There was a frisky mood in the air that everyone--except CJ--was feeling. While Washington was Josh's stomping grounds, Donna could tell New England would always be in his blood.
"Josh, while you were gone, you had a visitor," Donna said as he approached her desk.
"I don't want any visitors," he replied. "I have nothing to do for half an hour and that is precisely what I intend to do."
"But Josh..."
"No, Donna!" he said firmly. "I'm not leaving here to meet with anyone; I'm not calling anyone; and no one is coming to see me. I'm going to read this paper--Baseball Digest, Donna. It's the Spring training preview; I'm going to miss the entire season this year, so I get 30 minutes to enjoy baseball for the whole year. Those minutes begin now. During this time, no one is to talk to me; there is nothing else on my schedule."
"I know, but Josh..."
"No," he said. "Donna, repeat after me: Josh is busy."
"Okay, but that's not..."
"No, no, no," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're not repeating. That's what I asked you to do."
"Actually, you never asked, you just told her," said the woman's crisp voice from his office.
The voice registered in Josh's ears. His shoulders drooped and his head bowed to his chest in defeat.
"I was trying to tell you about that," Donna said with a grin as she pointed to the doorway.
"My mother's in there, isn't she?" Josh sighed.
"Yeah," Donna eagerly replied. "She's the visitor you said you won't be seeing."
"Joshua," Anna Lyman called in a tone that her son knew was not as sweet as it sounded. "Come in here, darling."
"How did I get in trouble?" he asked Donna quickly before he entered.
"How do you usually?" Donna remarked as he stepped into his office.
Josh entered and laid his sports paper--plus a handwritten analysis from Marilyn that she had sent him specially--on his desk with a sigh.
"Hi, Mom," he said trying not to sound too disappointed.
He did not mind seeing his mother; he was glad to see her; he just wanted her to go away long enough for him to read at least some of the preview and report.
"Were you being mean to Claudia?" Anna asked instantly.
"How are you?" Josh asked.
"Answer me, Joshua," Anna said.
"I thought you were going to call before you drove up here," Josh continued, purposefully ignoring her question. "The weather sucks; you shouldn't have driven in this mess."
"Donna, is Claudia Jean available at the moment?" Anna requested.
"I'm right here; who's asking," CJ said peering around the corner. "Oh, Mrs. Lyman! I didn't know you were in town."
"It's good to see you, Claudia Jean, and please call me Anna," Anna replied. "Now, what did he do to you?"
"Okay, let's move on," Josh said, standing between the two women.
"He stuffed a gallon of snow down my neck and back," CJ said. "He practically drown me like a horrid little boy picking on an innocent..."
"Okay, it was a handful and it was only after she started it," Josh protested.
"You should apologize," his mother informed him. "I raised you better than that."
"No you didn't," he said flatly. "Besides, this is none of your business."
"I'm making it my business," Anna said.
"You can't do that," he protested.
"I just did."
"It was all in good fun," he said in an exasperated tone as he threw his hand in the air.
"I didn't think it was fun," CJ said haughtily.
"There," Anna stated. " Apologize. She didn't think it was fun."
"Case closed," CJ said with sneer.
"No, there is no case," Josh said.
"Don't bother to apologize," CJ informed him as she strode purposefully out of the room. "Just watch your back, Lyman. I will have the last laugh."
"If you think that a...," he started then stopped as he caught the stern gaze in his mother's eyes. Josh then turned his eyes on Donna, who stood in the doorway snickering.
"Stay out of this or you're next," he said pointing at her.
"Josh," Anna scolded, slapping his wrist. "Don't be belligerent, and don't point at people. It's rude. Now, Donna, you don't have to listen to him."
"Yes, she does."
"If this is how he acts normally, let me apologize and express my shame," Anna continued. "Not to excuse this kind of behavior, but you must understand that he gets like this when he has too much time on his hands. When he was a child, his father and I had to stop grounding him because we found that he got in more trouble when he was cooped up in the house with nothing to do."
"You should hear what he and Sam did to CJ's shoes at the President's farm the summer before last," Donna said.
"Joshua," Anna said and slapped his arm.
"Okay, what is with the hitting?" he cried then cast his stare back at Donna. "And you can stop smirking. Actually, this is my office. The both of you can leave."
The two women looked back at him with long stares. He shrugged.
"Fine, I'm in charge around here," he said in an agitated way. "I can leave."
"Where are you going?" Donna asked.
"I gotta call Sam," he said as he started for the door. "Mom, don't talk to her. Donna, don't listen to whatever this woman has to say."
He left the room shaking his head. Donna bit her lip but could not suppress her giggles any longer.
"He makes me so proud," Anna said flatly and rolled her eyes. "Donna, honestly, you deserve a medal after all this time. I'm his mother; that comes with an amazing level of tolerance and patience, but you... How do you put up with it, dear? Don't take me wrong; I love my son dearly, but there are times when he tries my patience to the very end. This is not one of them, but it brings back memories of many times (many, many, many times) when he did."
Donna grinned broadly as she listened to Anna's
ire. She also noted that though Josh's mother was obviously not pleased
with the initial moments when her son arrived, the woman did cherish him--if
not in spite of his quirks than perhaps all the more because of them.
Her expression as she scolded him was a mixture of careworn resignation
and heartfelt pride. Donna was also aware of the sharp scrutiny she
was receiving from this visitor. Anna's surface expression was friendly,
but there was something intense just beneath the surface that made Donna
slightly uneasy. There was something familiar in that look.
It took
Donna a moment to realize it was the same way Josh regarded her on
occasion.
"He's not so bad," Donna said guardedly. "He's a challenge."
"Challenge you say?" Anna replied. "Oh, does that sound like Noah! Josh's father was certain our son could walk on water; he half-convinced Josh it was true. As a mother, I had a different perspective. Don't misunderstand me, he's wonderful and I wouldn't trade him or change him for the world, but..."
"Yeah," Donna agreed. "But. I think I can relate to that."
"I think maybe you can," Anna said with a generous smile.
*****************
"So when are you going to do it, Leo?" Anna asked as the waitress left with their order.
"I'm sorry?" he replied, though he knew what she meant.
"Fire him, Leo," she pleaded. "Make an old woman happy. He won't quit. Won't even entertain the idea. Do it, for me."
"Oh that," he nodded. "Sure, I'll do it... when hell freezes over."
"I'm seeing a lot of snow and ice today, Leo," Anna pointed out with a serpentine grin.
"I don't think the president will enjoy hearing that you think New Hampshire is hell."
"I'm a registered voter and a Democrat," she said. "He needs my vote and my opinion is mine. How are you, Leo?"
"Things are good," he said believing it mostly true. "With yourself?"
"As well as can be expected with you refusing to save my son from himself," she sighed.
"Anna...," he sighed.
"Leo Thomas McGarry, don't you Anna me," she said boldly. "I know you think I'm being foolish. But you didn't get that phone call."
Leo conceded that point with a curt nod. He wasn't even the one who made the phone call. I wished he had, but there wasn't time. The job came first. It always came first. That August night in 2000 was no different.
"I realize that," he abdicated. "Mrs. Bartlet called you as soon as there was information to give you. I'm just glad you didn't have a television on. I can't image what that would have been like--to see the news breaking on CNN. It was hard enough being there."
"I would rather have been there than to have the
governor send a state trooper to my door to keep the..." Anna paused.
She needed to remind herself from time to time that those were merely bad
memories now; the awfulness had passed. "I sometimes wonder if I
it would have been better if no one told me until morning. Sitting
by the phone, hoping every hour that there would be news while at the same
time praying the phone would not ring because it might not be good news.
The damn airports closed; no way to get to Washington until the next day.
I sat up all night waiting to find out if I was going to bury
another child."
"I really don't know how to respond to that without coming off as cruel and callous," Leo admitted.
"Good," she said, fishing in her purse for a moment before extracting a photograph. "Then don't. Here. Look at this."
She handed the old print to him and watched as he blanched with recognition.
"My god..." he exhaled. "When was this taken?"
"There isn't an note on the back of it, but I'm pretty sure it was a Fourth of July picnic," she said. "Josh looks about 8 or 9. Do me a favor, I probably won't see him at all in the next 48 hours. Give him this picture. Tell him it's for the box. He'll know what that means."
The print was slightly out of focus, as was much of that time in Leo's recollection. What he could discern were three figures: two men sitting at a picnic table locked in deep discussion and a young boy standing at the shoulder of one man while listening to the other with rapt attention. Leo was taken aback. He found it hard to believe that he was ever that young himself, not a shred of gray in his hair. What was most startling was the man opposite him. He had never changed. From the moment Leo met Noah Lyman until the days before he died, the man did not seem to change at all.
"I found it in the attic," Anna said, pleased by his reaction. "It was in with some of Noah's things. There is a lot of junk in boxes that I am still sorting through, but occasionally I find a little treasure."
"Josh certainly doesn't listen to me like this now," Leo scoffed. "Wonder what happened."
"He grew up, Leo," she sighed.
"Not enough if you ask me," he chided. "He did something today that's got CJ on the warpath. Between he and Sam there are days I think I'm running a daycare. But that shouldn't surprise you. Well, this picture is an unexpected stroll down memory lane."
"I keep looking at it," she said. "I was always so amazed at the way a child as restless as Joshua could concentrate on something when it caught his interest. Do you see the way Josh is looking at the both of you? You could light a firecracker next to that child's head and he's not going to flinch. He likely has no clue what you and Noah are talking about, but he's soaking in every word."
"Yeah, well, Josh is weird like that," Leo shrugged and tucked the photo safely into the breast pocket of his overcoat.
"I can't get him that interested in anything I say."
"Hey, be happy he was interested in something productive," Leo said. "When I was his age, I was more interested in picking fights with my father."
"Oh, I know," she relented. "I just wish... Well, back then, I didn't think his listening to you talk about politics could ever be dangerous. But, as the years have passed, I can say honestly I would have preferred he was interested in something safer like accounting.... or teaching.... or drag car racing."
"I've ridden with Josh before," Leo added. "The drag car thing may not be a just a dream."
"You know what I mean," she said as she stifled a laugh then made herself a mental note to remind Josh to drive more carefully. He wouldn't listen and might even read her the litany of reasons she must cease her worrying, but for her own peace of mind she needed to tell him.
"You don't have to like his choices, Anna," Leo said. "And really, statistically speaking, the chances of you turning on CNN again and seeing... Well, it's not going to happen again. You can have faith in that."
Anna shook her head. She knew all this. And even if she didn't, Josh was constantly arguing Leo's very points to her. However, she conceded that Leo was correct on one count: She did not have to like Josh's choices.
"I know he wasn't the target, but he is all I have left, Leo," she said, explaining herself unnecessarily. "I've spent most of his lifetime my life thanking God that I didn't lose him sooner. But that hateful Carl Leroy is still alive and…"
"Anna," Leo interjected. "He's in prison for the rest of his life and Josh wasn't his target."
"That hasn't stopped him," she countered. "He sends Joshua those letters."
"What letters?"
"Oh, you don't know this?" she said, glad Leo was getting dose of what she felt when dealing with her son and his idea of need-to-know. "Of course not. Why would Josh tell you that? It would be the safe and logical thing to do."
"He should tell me," Leo scowled and removed his phone from his jacket and began dialing. "He should tell me right now. We can get it stopped right this second."
"Can you?" Anna said, placing her hand over his and halting his call. "You can overturn the First Amendment? You can make this beast stop using the US Postal Service? He's a member of a white supremacist group, Leo. They proudly tattoo Swastikas on their hands. Do you honestly think being in jail is going to change what he thinks? I can tell you that he's not happy his partners missed Charlie, but he hasn't lost a wink of sleep knowing they at least shot a Jew. And he's not the only one who sends the letters, Leo. He's just the one who signs his name."
"Josh told you this?"
"No, Toby did," Anna said. "I confronted Josh
about it and he said the DC police know about it but that hate mail is
par for the course when you work for the government then made some crack
about he and Toby keeping tallies to see which of them gets more letters.
It's a contest between them, I think."
"I'll look into it," Leo promised. "Anna, I just think.... You know, if he's not scared, you shouldn't be either. Josh is pretty smart. I think we can trust his judgment."
In that instance, Leo's phone trilled to life. He answered it in his gruff tones with monosyllabic responses. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he looked toward the windows of the restaurant; the view of the outside was nearly obliterated by the squalling snow. He disconnected with a guilty expression.
"I'd like to retract part of my earlier assurance," he said. "The part about trusting his judgement. Your son's an idiot, Anna."
Leo blew into the campaign headquarters, bringing a decent portion of the whirling snow in with him. The new volunteers couldn't tell if the scowl adorning Leo's face was due to the weather or if Leo was the cause for the weather. He approached the remaining senior staffers at a conference table.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded. "You're telling me Josh just up and left?"
"Leo," CJ began.
"CJ, I don't have time to hear one of your cover-ups for Josh's lack of control," he roared. "I specifically told him to stay here until after the primary. I swear to god, I'm going to find a way to ground him."
"Have you been talking to his mother?" Sam asked, hoping to add levity to the already thick cloud hanging over them.
The look on Leo's face convinced Sam that his mouth would be better off sticking a doughnut in it. "Okay, bad timing," he nodded and reached for a pastry.
"Leo," CJ said, "we were sitting here running hypotheticals when Doug called."
"What did Doug have to say?" Leo asked.
"He found the leak," Toby said simply.
"He what?"
"He wouldn't go into details over the phone, but Carl Johnson is apparently our mole"
"Which clears Josh completely," Sam stated as his
focus turned to the Communications Director. "Carl admitted to it.
Case dismissed."
"For the moment," Toby countered.
"And now you're telling me that Josh decided to drive back to Washington? When did he leave?" Leo asked.
"He left about six hours ago," CJ said.
"Six hours?" Leo repeated. "And I'm just finding out about this now?!"
"Leo, for what it's worth, I tried not stop him," Sam said.
"And how did that work for you?" Toby countered.
"Well, I'm just saying I tried," Sam responded.
"Leo, this is Josh," CJ said with a resigned expression. "Sometimes you can't stop him; you can only hope to contain him."
"So this is an across the board failure?" Toby asked with the hint of a grin. "If the blizzard is less severe further south, they should be half way there. There's nothing we can do except maybe out jobs so..."
"He drove?" Leo asked again in amazement.
"Well he certainly couldn't fly," Sam said. "No planes are allowed to take off. Air Force One couldn't in this blizzard."
"You'd think with all its technology, that plane could take off no matter what," CJ said.
"I still think its got…"
"Will the two of you just knock it off?" Leo sighed, the tiredness in his voice apparent. Leo was finally starting to show the effects that the other members had experienced long ago.
"I wouldn't worry about him too much, Leo," CJ offered. "He's not alone. Donna went with him."
"That's perfect," he moaned. "Heckyl and Jeckyl take
a road trip. Tell me they were smart enough to bring phones? Anyone?"
The guilty stares that ringed the table were not due to
lack of knowledge. They knew the answer and for each there was a
different concern because of it.
"I... I tried to stop him," Sam said with a serious expression that had little to do with road conditions and more to do with the close and unsupervised quarters of the two missing staffers. "I tried to call a couple hours ago but couldn't connect. I think it's the storm; I hope."
With a heavy sigh, the Chief sat down.
"Fine," Leo said. "Let's worry about the primary and then I'll think of ways to ring his neck."
************
"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Donna asked. "We might be able to get something in now--we just passed a city, I think."
"It was Philadelphia," Josh responded without answering her question.
"So do you mind..."
"Yes."
"You don't want it on?"
"No."
"Will it bother you?"
"No."
"But you don't want it on?"
"No," he said again. "It doesn't work, Donna. It doesn't matter where we are. The radio doesn't work. We could be parked on the station's own antenna and we are still not going to get any reception."
"Are you sure?" she asked again and received the curt glare that was the most clear non-verbal answer she knew.
She had been nervous about the trip but excited as well. She had traveled many times with the White House staff, but those were always formal arrangements where she just had to be to the plane on time; she had driven cross-country to join the campaign originally, but she traveled alone. This was her first actual road trip.
"Okay, so how do we pass the time now?" she asked genuinely. "We've gone over everything you want to say and do to Carl but won't because it's either illegal or simply impossible. I'm thinking of car games, but since it's a complete white-out so playing Eye-Spy just isn't going to work."
"What?"
"The game," she said. "You know, you play it on long car rides."
"Never did," he said simply.
"You never took long car rides as a kid?"
"Sure."
"So what did you do to pass the time?" she asked.
"Read," he replied simply.
"I'd throw up if I read in a car," she said, feeling green at the mere thought. "That's one of the reasons we used to play the games, to keep us from getting carsick. I remember on time, we were going to my aunt's for Easter an my sister and I..."
She trailed off suddenly and bit her lip.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"About what?" he asked.
"You didn't play those games because you..."
"Because what?" he said.
"You didn't have anyone to play against," she said feeling awkward. "Do you ever wonder what you life would have been like if your sister were alive?"
"No," he said easily. "It's pointless. She's not. I know she existed; I have a few memories and that's it."
Donna had conflicting reactions to his response. She marveled that he could be so frank yet she also was appalled at how cold he sounded. She did not think she could be so nonchalant if she lost one of her siblings. In fact, she could not imagine what her life would be like if she didn't have them.
"I don't think I could have survived or anything if something like that happened to my family," Donna said earnestly.
"Broken hearts still beat," Josh said candidly.
"What?"
"My mother said that to me sometime after, you know, the fire," he said. "I wondered... Well, I... didn't understand why the world kept going on like nothing had happened. My mother explained that it didn't matter what happened to us because the sun was still going to rise and set every day; the seasons were still going to change; and we would move on with our lives even if it hurt. That's just how things go. That's how she said it: Broken hearts still beat after all."
"Well, I couldn't do it," Donna said, thinking how devastated she was when she arrived at the emergency room and learned Josh had been shot.
Her own heart felt as though it had stopped cold that night; as the arduous hours of waiting for the surgeons to finish the surgery dragged on, she was acutely conscious of the sound of her own heart--it beat in her ears like a bell tolling for the dead. She shook her head and looked at him, again feeling the surge of thankfulness she felt that he had pulled through.
How different would my life be if Josh had not made it?
It was a question she asked herself asking from time to time. It was troublesome because there was no immediate answer, but she would learn one day. If they did not win the election, she would no longer be his assistant. Or, if they did win, they would have at most four years left together. Then he would walk out of her life. The thought caused unexplainable shivers deep in her stomach.
She realized she had been silent too long and launched into a discourse about her family. Her father had had a brother who died in childhood, something Donna didn't learn until she was a teenager. Even though she never knew her deceased uncle, she said she grieved his loss all the same.
"That's because you're a sensitive person," Josh said.
"You're not exactly a walking callous.... all the time," Donna offered. "I'm just saying that I don't know how anyone ever makes it through something like that. I know they do, but I don't understand how it can fade and become history rather than a part of your life everyday. That's why I've decided that my children are going to know all about their family. I'm going to tell them about every family that I've ever even heard about."
"Must be nice," he said.
"What?" she asked. "Wanting children?"
"Knowing enough of your family history to have something to pass on," Josh said. "There isn't a single record that my great grandparents existed and knowledge of every previous generation that were lost when Germany was riding high. My grandfather explained that to me, though, personally, it's not the kind of topic I would haven choose for a bedtime story."
Donna's face softened as dual pictures entered her mind. First, that of Josh as a child being tucked in by an aging man with a thick accent (unfortunately telling him Holocaust tales). The second, one that caused the corners of her mouth to curve upward, was that of Josh doing the honors for his own son. Then she started to laugh.
"I'm sorry," she giggled. "I'm just picturing you telling a bedtime story. 'Once upon a time, there was a mean-spirited Senator who tried to tank a health care bill...'"
"I could leave you by the side of the road," he said.
"Oh, stop it," she relented. "It's cute, Josh. I know you can be kind of abrupt, but I'd bet you'd be a wonderful father."
"I had a great role model," he said contentedly.
"From what I've heard, your father was an amazing man," she agreed softly. "He'd be very impressed with everything you've done."
"Yeah, he'd have the ultimate in bragging rights: My son runs the country," Josh said. "He liked the President, too. I think they would have gotten along. I can imagine it: my father the litigator and history nut sitting down to talk with President Bartlet. Now, there's a conversation that would never end."
"See, you do have things to tell your children," Donna said. "Besides your parents, you've got this surrogate family, too. You know the President of the United States; you help run the country. That's pretty special. It'll mean more to your children than knowing 10 generations of obscure names."
"Your entire family has strange names?"
"You know what I mean," she protested.
"Rarely," he sighed. "But let me say, my mother would appreciate your faith in me. She gave up all hope of grandchildren long ago when, as she says, I married democracy. She sometimes wonders out loud what she did wrong."
"She didn't do anything wrong," Donna replied. "You're one of the good guys, Josh. You just need to be reminded to act like it every so often."
"Every so..." he said. "I don't need reminding."
"Well, you can be a little harsh," Donna said.
"Harsh?"
"And sarcastic," she added.
"Me?"
"On the whole, you don't need a whole lot of work," she continued. "Compared to some."
"Compared to whom?" he asked abruptly.
"I wouldn't exactly qualify you as high maintenance," she said, ignoring his question. "There's nothing major, but there are a lot of little things."
"Okay," he interrupted. "You can stop."
"Like..."
"Thank you," he said. "That's enough."
"I'm just trying to be helpful," she said.
"I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do," she said affirmatively. "Like with patience. You should cultivate some."
"I've held off getting rid of you," he said. "Does that count?"
"Not when you say it like that," she responded. "And you should learn to take constructive criticism better."
"This from a woman who refuses to see her own flaws," he commented.
"Flaws?" she repeated. "What flaws?"
"Nothing," he said dismissively.
"Josh!"
"Donna, you're no different than CJ or Sam or even me," Josh argued. "You're pretty sure you're right most of the time. When anything threatens that, you get defensive."
"I do not," she said, folding her arms.
"You're doing it now," he pointed out. "Then you pout, like you're doing now as well."
"I don't pout."
"Fine," he agreed. "You sulk."
"You said flaws," she continued. "What else?"
"Let's drop it," he said.
"I want to know," she said hotly. "What else?"
"Well, you're nosy," he said eagerly.
"I'm curious," she argued.
"And your thoughts can be a little too scattered some days," he offered.
"That's not a flaw," she countered. "I'm diverse. I have many ideas."
"Well, just don't be surprised if on your 50th birthday your children put you and your many diverse ideas in a home," he said.
"They won't."
"They will," he said. "Don't worry. I'll visit."
"Ha!" she scoffed. "Like you'll even be around."
"Yeah, I'll probably be dead."
She gasped and slapped his shoulder as she scolded him.
"Don't say that!" she scolded. "Josh, don't say that. I was joking. You said that seriously."
Her voice cracked as she reprimanded him. She recovered quickly, but he had heard the tremor in her tone. He cast a brief glance at her. She was biting her lip and staring at her knees.
"Okay," he said evenly, touched by her downcast expression. "I'm sorry, Donna. Look, I... I promise not to be dead when your children commit you to a home for the elderly and deranged. I'll even help them pick out a place--something featured on a 60 Minutes expose."
She sighed and looked at him through the corner of her eyes. He was smirking in the way that brought out his dimples, making her shiver for reasons other than the weather.
"You make it very difficult for people to like you," she said.
"When something is worthwhile, it doesn't have to be easy," he said. "Get some sleep, Donna. You're exhausted."
"So are you," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but I'm driving," he said.
"That's supposed to make me feel like sleeping?" she asked. "No, I'll stay awake. I'm here to keep you company."
"Great, then you drive and I'll sleep."
"Do you want me to?"
"No," he said firmly.
"I can," she offered. "Josh, do you want to sleep?"
"Yes," he said. "I want to sleep, but no I won't."
"Your mother's right," Donna said. "You're too stubborn to take practical advice."
"Why did you say that?"
"Because you are," Donna replied matter-of-factly.
"No, why did you say my mother said that?" he queried.
"Because I'm sure she does," Donna said quickly.
"When did you talk to my mother?" he asked.
"Today," Donna said quickly.
"Yeah, she said she came in 20 seconds before I did so you two didn't have much time to speak," Josh asserted. "When else have you spoken with her lately?"
"I haven't spoken to your mother," she answered truthfully.
"Yes, you have," he said. "You've spoken to her on several occasions."
"That's right," Donna agreed. "But not recently."
"Not in person, per se," Josh offered.
"Exactly."
"Exactly?" he repeated. "So you are talking to her, or is it closer to say communicating?"
Donna said nothing. She realized her mistake too late. Sam was fond of saying Josh was not a real lawyer, but no one could claim he couldn't argue. She blamed her mistake on her lack of sleep. Normally, she would not have fallen for such a simple set up.
"You sent her e-mail, didn't you?"
"That's not of your business," Donna said haughtily.
"That's a glaring yes," he stated. "Donna, she's my mother."
"Anna is my friend," she replied.
"Anna?" he said. "You call her Anna?"
"That's her name," Donna informed him.
"I know that," he said. "I know what her name is; Mrs. Lyman is also her name."
"She asked me to call her Anna," Donna said. "She said that's what her friends call her."
"And you're her friend?"
"We're pen pals," Donna replied brightly.
"You're pen pals with my mother, who you call Anna?" he surmised.
"Jealous?"
"No."
"Nervous?" she asked pointedly.
"Of course not," he said. "Why? What did she say?"
"Oh, nothing," Donna said, enjoying the worrisome look on his face and the curiosity in his voice.
"Donna!"
"Don't be such an egomaniac," she told him. "Everything in her life does not revolve around you. We talk about all sorts of things. Your name hardly ever comes up."
"But it does," he ventured.
"On occasion," she said.
"And what does she say?"
"Well, usually it goes something like, 'Now, don't tell Joshua but…'" Donna laughed.
"What?"
"Watch the road, Josh," Donna commanded as he turned his full glare in her direction.
He stared ahead into the dizzying swirl of white flakes, his jaw tight, and the tiny muscles quivering under the strain.
"I'm kidding," Donna said calmly. "She asks how you are; I tell her you're a slave driver who abuses my schedule and better nature."
"Well, that explains a few things," he said after a moment.
"Such as?"
"Why she stopped her harangue about me not calling more often," he explained. "She's getting dirt from you."
Donna sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I don't give anyone dirt on you," she said. "Why did you think she had laid off asking you to call more often?"
"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I was kind of getting worried something was wrong or that she had... met someone."
"You mean a man," Donna said with a definite nod.
"She's married, Donna," he said firmly.
"She's a widow," she said.
"She's married," he said again.
"You may be her child, but you don't have to be a child, Josh," Donna said. "Your mother is an active, vibrant woman. If she met someone..."
"Has she?" he asked quickly.
"Well, she's having dinner with Leo right now," Donna taunted. "I think that has some possibilities. Sitting together in a cozy restaurant with no chaperons..."
Josh stared firmly ahead. He looked dejected and betrayed. Donna suppressed a smirk as she shook her head.
"Oh Josh, I'm kidding," Donna said. "She and Leo aren't having a fling and she isn't keeping some young stud in the pool house to keep her company on cold winter nights. But there would be nothing wrong if she did. Don't you want her to be happy?"
"She is happy," he said instantly.
"What if she was lonely?"
"She has friends," Josh said.
"It's not the same," Donna replied in a heartfelt tone.
"You can get used to being lonely," he said.
"No one should have to, Josh," she countered. "Having a special someone in her life might make her happier."
"Well, she's got you," Josh replied. "The only thing that would maker her happier is a daughter-in-law and some grandchildren, but we've already had that discussion."
"No we haven't," Donna said startled.
"No you and I," he said. "Her and I."
"Oh," Donna said, feeling the head rush subside.
"She really doesn't mention me?" he remarked again.
"Oh for God's sake, Joshua!" Donna said exasperated. "Yes, she does. She mentions you all the time. She's your mother! You are her favorite subject. But don't worry; she hasn't told me anything about you I didn't already know or suspect. From the way she talks about you, it's obvious she loves you very much and she couldn't possibly be prouder of you. Of course, she does worry."
"No kidding."
"That's right, no kidding," Donna replied. "She's a mother, Josh. You may be an adult, but to her, you'll always be her baby. She can't help worrying about you so don't ask her to try."
"You're starting to sound like her," he said.
"Am I?" Donna said, sounding flattered.
"You're going to tell her what I said, aren't you?"
"About thinking she had a secret boyfriend," Donna said suggestively. "Well, what Anna and I talk about is between the two of us."
Josh sighed.
"Anna and Donna?" he said, shaking his head. "My mother and my assistant. That just can't be good."
*****************
Josh Lyman, White House Deputy Chief of Staff
February 4 12:06 A.M.
I-95, just north of Washington
It's official. I haven't seen a single recognizable landmark of any sort--and that includes road signs... hell, that includes the road! --in the last four hours. So I'm making it official: I hate snow.
I never used to, but I've had my fill. In fact, the color white is going on my list. That's the List Of Things I Could Do Without Ever Seeing Again. It's not a long list, but it's not short either. I mean, I have no way to bring the list to fruition, but my lists are serious business. They must be or I wouldn't make them and remember them. So, the color white. That's on there. Maybe they could paint the outside of the office. Green is a good color.
This is unbelievable. Donna's still sleeping. How does she do it?
I can't close my eyes for more than an hour straight lately, but Donna manages to nod off for the last three hours with no trouble. She's so peaceful. I envy that.
I mean, I'm glad she got some sleep--she needed it--but I was sorry when she drifted off. I've missed talking to her. We don't talk much lately, unless it's me giving orders and her providing information or you know, not. But the thing is, we don't have what she used to call "our special time" any longer. There just doesn't seem to be time. I actually miss it.
I admit it.
I miss Donna.
Something else I admit: I'm glad she came with me.
I could have done this alone, but there's something comforting about having Donna around. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because she's one person I know that actually listens to me--not only because she has to (which she does) but also because she wants to. She's interested in what I have to say. Nobody gives her enough credit. They don't know what this woman can do; what she did during the filibuster last year--it didn't surprise me one bit. She can be naive sometimes, but Donna is amazing, in a demented kind of way. She is sharp; she picks up on things quicker than the majority of Congress. I'm only half-kidding when I refer to her as my secret weapon. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without her for the last four years. I don't know what I'd do without her some days.
I mean professionally, of course.
Obviously.
I mean...
What else could I mean?
Okay, this is Joey Lucas's fault. Well, that and the fact I haven't slept for even five straight hours since September. And maybe that's why in the few spare moments of quiet I find lately, I catch myself thinking more about what Joey said to me last year, about how Donna had feelings for me that were not strictly job-related. Donna says and does things from time to time that make me wonder if it's true (and I don't even want to get into whatever it was that happened on New Year's Eve); I don't have time for that. And even if I did, it's not my style. Bosses don't date their assistants. It's bad form and just asking for a sexual harassment lawsuit when the thing goes south, like it inevitably will.
Not that I've considered dating Donna.
Because I haven't. Not really.
Not seriously.
Then again, it's not like it would actually be a lot different than what we do now. We see each other a dozen hours a day; we take meals together pretty often; when the President screens a movie every couple Fridays she and tend to go together. But we don't know each other out of the office often--unless it's a bunch of us and then yeah, I frequently see that she gets home. But that's not often any more. Of course, that's because, well, neither of us is ever really out of the office.
And it would be wrong if we did. Go out, I mean. As something other than... well, her and I and our thing which isn't a thing.
Okay, here's the thing: I am her boss. I can't ask her out--even if I wanted to, which I don't. But if I did, it could be construed as sexual harassment. I think I covered that already--damn I'm tired. But even if I did ask--which I won't--and she said yes, the veil of impropriety would be there. As it should be...
God, I when did I get so damn conservative? After all, we are adults. We can conduct ourselves with the dignity befitting our posts. We're not horny college students on spring break. If....
If?
I am not going to do that. There are so many, many things wrong with even thinking that Donna and I could.... I mean, we could. Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure we could. If we wanted to that is, and I'm not saying I do.
I do?
Oh god! Is that what my mother is up to? She's playing matchmaker? I won't quit this job she hates so is she trying an end run to get something out of the deal that she wants: a daughter-in-law?
No, that's crazy. That is not my mother's style. She knows better than to try that. She knows I haven't settled down yet because, well, the entire concept doesn't fit me. I can't settle--I won't; I need this frenetic life; it's why I breathe. I've done this so long, I can't remember not doing it. It wouldn't be fair to subject someone else to my schedule, my lifestyle, my whims, my stress. Look where it got Toby and Leo. They're both still in love with their wives years after they divorced. They have regret. I have enough of that without looking for more. Why would I want to set myself up for that? What kind of woman would even consider allowing it?
Donnatella Lyman?
That sounds like one of those screwball characters in SJ's books. No, Donna would have to be crazy to want to be around me for the rest of her life.
Then again, I do wonder about Donna some times--her sanity that is. I'm fairly astute at dissecting people and their motives, but I honestly don't understand Donna. What it comes down to some days is that I am certain there has to be a lab some place that's missing a patient or test subject.
There's just something about her that... How do you understand some one who puts up with the stuff she does? Maybe there is no understanding her. I don't know.
It doesn't matter either, because I don't have to know. We are employer and employee. Deputy and assistant.
Okay, so we're more than that. We're colleagues. Okay, more still. She's right. We're friends. Yeah, Donna is my friend and that's all.
Friends like I am with Sam and CJ and... Okay, maybe not entirely like that, but close. It is the same, but it's not.
With the others it's different. Donna is... special. She's like no one I've ever known.
She's pen pals with my mother?
My mother. Anna Lyman is not a pen pal kind of woman. She doesn't believe in frivolous conversation. What could she possibly talk to Donna about? And why Donna? My mother has dozens of friends she sees all the time, friends of her own generation.
These two have nothing in common. My mother is from a different world; Donna... she might be from a different planet. The only thing they share is... well, me.
*****************
"Hey, copilot!" Josh said, jostling Donna's shoulder after parking the car in the designated area across from the White House. "Get up!"
Donna's eyes fluttered open and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He watched her, feeling guilty her slumber was disturbed but also grateful to have his companion back.
"We're here?" she said. "Already? Oh, Josh! I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Don't worry," he said. "I noted the time. I'll dock your pay. Come on, we've got work to do."
*****************
To: nalyman@soconn.net
From Donnatella.Moss@whitehouse.gov
Date: 06FEB2002
Time: 22:03
Subject: The road trip
Dear Anna,
Sorry we left so abruptly--hopefully Leo explained. And, just so you know, we made it back to Washington! As you know, when Josh wants to move, he moves. We trekked through the white out (I'll spare you the details because as a mother you don't need to hear that your son lacks self-preservation instincts when politics are on the line). Thankfully, we arrived, exhausted but unscathed.
And then the real fun started.
I've seen Josh do some amazing things in the time we have worked together, but this definitely makes the 10 greatest moments list. For someone people frequently dismiss as having less than stellar interpersonal skills, your son can turn on the charm and finagle just about anything he wants when he wants it badly enough.
Now that part of the fiasco is over, we are here holding the fort in the west wing while the capital digs out from the blizzard. Everyone else is due back a little later. We watched the returns from New Hampshire and Josh is proclaiming himself to by some sort of minor deity. I've told him we should call it a night, but he is naturally refusing to leave. He's awake therefore there is work he could be doing; therefore I must stay as well. While everyone else is winging their way back from New Hampshire in the comfort of an airplane, I sit here and eat Chinese food for breakfast... well, looking at the time, I'll call it a very late dinner or a jump on an early breakfast. It was supposed to be dinner after we arrived, but there was work to be done first. I've told him hundreds of times that he can't go days without sleep or regular meals--which he'll wind up sick and unable to work at all. He denies that is possible. I don't know if that's because he's too exhausted to reason or if he is starting to believe his own hype about being superhuman. Anyway, while I write, we're finally eating. Which is where my private show begins.
At this very moment, Josh is sitting in his office grumbling because his food got cold while he was not sleeping and not eating. I must say, I find it both astounding and hilarious that someone as intelligent as Josh doesn't think of the obvious solution (putting his food in the microwave down in the Mess). No, he'll sit there with his feet on his desk and keep complaining instead of taking the two minutes it would take to rectify the situation. I would offer to assist him in fixing this problem, but it's entirely too entertaining to stop at this point. He thinks I'm listening to him--and I am, kind of--but all I have to do is say "uh huh" or "really" every so often and he keeps going. Josh does have his own reality some times.
I must tell you that the drive here Josh uncovered our clandestine correspondence. You were right about his suspicions. He did wonder if you had a man stashed away some place. I'm not sure I should tell you, but he seemed disturbed that you might. In his mind, you are a married woman. As always, loyalty to his father is paramount. But, should the occasion ever arise, I believe he could be made to understand that his mother is still a woman with feelings and needs. Keep that in mind if any distinguished gentlemen start asking for your phone number!
Oh, I better sign off. Someone is leering at me in the doorway. Apparently I didn't respond fast enough during the last round of griping. He gets so sensitive when he thinks he's being ignored. Hope you are weathering the weather!
-Donna
"What are you doing?" Josh asked suspiciously.
"I'm working," Donna replied quickly as she dispatched her message and cleared her screen.
"You were typing," he said.
"Sometimes I type when I work," she said.
"Were you writing to my mother?"
"Not everything revolves around you," she said.
"Donna?"
"I just was letting her know we were back here," Donna replied. "I don't suppose you called her."
"No," he shrugged.
"Then is there anything wrong with me telling her we're alive?"
"Yeah," he said, perching on the corner of her desk "It makes her worry that there was a reason we might not be. What else did you say?"
"That's none of your business," she replied folding her arms defiantly.
"Did you tell her how I fixed everything?"
"I may have mentioned something," she replied.
"Did you use the word amazing?" he asked. "Because, you said it yourself earlier. You said amazing."
*****************
The hours slowly faded with the storm as Donna finished her filing. It didn't bother her that this was her third time organizing the filing cabinets. She had nothing better to do and no where to go as her roommate called to tell her there was no heat in their building. Remaining at the office was the only way to stay warm. Donna knew she should find a spare couch in one of the conference rooms to rest, but Josh was still working. Taking a break while he remained on the job felt treasonous somehow to her. So, she spent her time processing the mail; answering the phone (all two calls) and popping off an email to her brother Ralph. The White House was still buzzing, but without the President here, the pace had considerably slowed.
Donna was about to begin rearranging the binders, when Josh emerged from his darkened office.
"Results yet?"
"Yeah," he said. "We're winning."
"I know that," Donna replied. "I meant..."
"I won't know for a few more hours," Josh said. "Donna, what are you doing right now?"
"Performing an aerial trapeze act," she said. "And I need complete silence to do it."
"You know, I have resigned to the fact that I will never understand what goes on inside that head of yours," he admitted.
"Good," she replied. "Keeps the relationship fresh between us."
"Keeps the…," he said shaking his head. "Donna, we need to head to the basement."
"Why?"
"So I can lock you up," Josh said. "We're turning it into an insane asylum and I've nominated you as the first inmate."
She offered him her perturbed stare but was unable to pull it off with the needed gusto. Her weariness was bone deep.
"We need to sort through some boxes in that conference room," Josh relented.
"Josh," she sighed. "I've had enough of boxes to last me three lifetimes."
"Well, get ready to start your fourth," he said. "I just got off the phone with Leo and he wants a some old report or something that he swears in in one of them. So, since your organization skill are legendary…"
"Shut up. Let's go get this over with."
After two hours and dozens of boxes, Donna collapsed on the old, faded blue couch and took a final swig of the warm beer she had been nursing with Josh since they dove into the boxes at midnight. She placed it on the arm of the couch as Josh reentered the room after treading back up the stairs to his office to call Leo and inform him that their endeavor proved unsuccessful.
"Leo upset?" she asked.
"When isn't he lately," Josh responded as he joined her on the couch.
"It was my first road trip," she said, handing him back the beer bottle they were sharing.
"Was it good for you?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "I have nothing to compare it to. We'll have to do it again some time."
"Yeah, in better weather," he suggested.
"To some place warm," she said. "And we'll get a convertible."
"You can drive," he said. "I'll sleep."
"You are responsible for a lot of my firsts, Josh," she offered.
"Such as?"
"My first work in politics," she said. "And all the things that go with that: primaries, election night, inauguration..."
"Disasters, filibusters, media storms, international mayhem, domestic calamities..." he continued.
"Deputy Downer returns," she chuckled as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Josh, for being a progressive optimist..."
"A what?"
"Progressive optimist," she repeated. "I made it up just for you--just now. You don't realize it, but you're pulling out of your... well, the funk you've been in for so long."
"Fascinating," he said dryly. "What are you talking about?"
"A progressive optimist is someone who is a realist about how things work but still dares to dream he might somehow make it a little bit better today," she said.
"Okay, you're cut off," he said, standing up.
He placed the empty bottle on the long conference table then returned to his seat. He draped his arm around her shoulders as she lay her head back on his.
"Josh, are we going to win?" she asked after a moment of silence.
"I refuse to acknowledge to the definite possibility of defeat," he said valiantly.
Donna shook her head and looked away, trying to keep the smirk off her face. The atmosphere was so charged with his self-assurance--tired though he was--she could almost hear him grinning. She glanced at him briefly. She felt her face grow hot and red as she saw his dimples. The feeling intensified when her gaze locked on his gentle, warm, excited eyes.
"We make a good team, Josh," she said.
"Do we?"
"Yeah, like Major Nelson and Jeanie," she ventured.
"You're not planning on parading around this office in sheer pants and a skimpy vest, are you? Because if you are..." he paused suddenly at a loss for words.
*****************
At 5 a.m., Toby traversed the hall, a note from Josh in his fist. The immediate crisis was over, thankfully, now all that was left was the clean up. Toby idid not think a heart rending mea culpa was in order, but he did want to tell Josh was out of line for the way he had treated him in recent weeks. The good thing about Josh, Toby knew that des[ote Josh's hotheaded reactions he did not take such things personally.
Toby opened the door to the conference room. The single light on the corner of the table burned, but there was no one seated around it. Toby sighed then turned to leave. It was then that he saw them.
They were sitting huddled together on the couch. Donna's head was resting on Josh's shoulder; both were lost in a comatose oblivion of much needed rest. Toby quietly left the room and closed the door.
Leo was fast approaching with a stern look in his hard-bitten eyes.
"Josh in there?" he asked. "Security logs shows he hasn't left yet."
"He is," Toby said, standing strategically in front of him. "But don't go in there."
"Why?"
"'Cause he's asleep," Toby said.
"I just got the word," Leo informed him with pleased exhaustion. "Final numbers are gonna be about 61 percent. We needed 55 to get out of there without starting the MS news cycle over again. I asked him to break that and he did it."
"He'll hear about it later," Toby said.
"Toby, he's gonna want to know this," Leo insisted. "I'll just be a second."
"And Josh needs about a 100,000 seconds of sleep after what he did to get here while the rest of us were sitting in a hotel room playing cards and talking about ancient tribal rituals to bring about spring," Toby said hotly, though he kept his voice down.
"Okay, all right," Leo said backing off. "And, really, it was the President who was talking about the dances for the seasons, not me."
"But you're here right now," Toby said. "Leo, I think we should leave Josh be for a while. I think we're better off if he gets his head back some before we start the next phase of the battle."
"Yeah," Leo relented. "We all could use some sleep. You sure we shouldn't wake him and send him home?"
"I doubt he wants to get back in a car just yet," Toby observed.
Leo nodded and continued down the hall. Toby turned around and smiled at the closed door. He still didn't see the subtext that so worried Sam and Leo, but the look on Josh and Donna's faces was enough to comfort him. He envied them their peace; there were precious few tranquil moments in a political campaign and Toby felt privileged to have witnessed one.