Chapter 5 Mud Ear

CJ Cregg's lips split into a toothy grin. ". . . And on a personal note, I'm happy to tell you that Josh Lyman was discharged yesterday from The Baptist Heart Institute in Memphis. He'll be spending a few weeks at a private farm near the city before returning to the White House."

Katie Walker's hand shot into the air. "Why so long, CJ?"

"Katie, he's just had major vascular surgery two weeks ago. He won't be cleared to fly for another three months and it will be at least three weeks before he's up to the trip by car or rail."

"CJ," Jason Whitney's voice rose above the rest. "Can you tell us anything about where he's staying?"

"Yes, I could tell you a great deal about it, Jason," her face hardened. "That's a full lid, folks. See you tomorrow."

CJ Cregg walked as fast as her heels would allow down the corridor to her office.

"CJ?" Danny Concannon sprinted behind her, panting as he caught up.

"I'm not telling you anything, Danny," she warned.

"Good, 'cause I already know." She pivoted and glared at him but he continued. "Hickory Grove in Rosemark, Tennessee, is the family home of Colonel Jackson Taylor, US Air Force, retired, and his wife, Dr. Evangeline Hall Taylor, also retired Air Force and Chief of Surgery of The Baptist Heart Institute. Colonel Taylor is a Senior Pilot for FedEx and Dr. Taylor is a pioneering cardio-thoracic surgeon and good friend of Dr. Abigail Bartlet. They, and their five children, live at Hickory Grove-a thousand-acre farm that has been in Taylor's family since they share-cropped it after the Civil War."

Cregg's eyes dropped to the floor. "Then you know everything, don't you, Danny?" she said acidly.

"No, I don't, CJ," he grabbed her arm and her eyes met his when he spoke again. "I don't know the only thing that matters: how's Josh?"

Late afternoon's golden rays were not enough to tint the pallor on Josh Lyman's face as he shivered in an overstuffed chair near a double-width window overlooking a field spiked with the gray stalks of cotton plants from the previous harvest.

Donna Moss sat on the arm of the chair, pressing the backs of her fingers to his temple. "Do you have fever?"

He shook his head. "Just cold," he whispered, tugging to his chin the soft, ancient quilt she'd draped over him. "I thought it was supposed to be warm in the South," he grinned wanly.

"It's a cool spring, according to Buddy Sanders."

"Who's Buddy Sanders?"

"The County Agent," Donna deadpanned.

Josh grinned wanly. "You mean, like Hank Kimball?"

Donna shook her head, open mouth interrupted by a loud thunk from the fireplace.

"What the hell?" Josh struggled to his feet, following Donna to the metal door covering the woodbox.

Another thunk startled them and Donna quickly unlocked the small door, a mahogany face smiling from the outside.

"Muddear thought you might be cold," the face belonged to a young man about sixteen. The outer door closed and, in an instant, opening the front door revealed the rest of the young man. "She sent me to start a fire for you." He moved to step over the threshold but stopped. "Is that okay?"

"S-sure," Donna stammered and the youth, whose head nearly brushed the top of the doorway, kneeled on the old brick and stoked the hearth.

"I'm Jebose Taylor," he explained over his shoulder.

The house guests introduced themselves.

"My sisters, Bechi and Chigozi, have been dying to get out here," he continued slyly, "to see you for themselves." Flames licked at the wood. "They're nosy." He nodded toward the window where two more faces peeked in.

"Curiosity is a good quality," Donna said, smiling quietly.

The young man dusted his hands in the fireplace, then stood. "Not in little sisters," he grinned wryly. "Anyway, Muddear wanted me to ask you if you needed anything-- before dark sets in."

"Thank you, um, Jebose?" Donna confirmed his name. "I can't imagine anything we could possibly need after your mom . . ."

"I can," Josh interrupted and the young man's eyebrows rose. "What in the hell is a Mud Ear?"

"I am she," a slight figure appeared in the still-open door, tugging two teenage girls-the window-peekers-behind her. "I'm Eugenie Taylor." She held out her hand, her tiny grip firm.

Josh towered over her-Jebose looked like a giant in comparison. Her carriage was steel but her voice was velvet. "And these busybodies are my grandchildren."

"It's very kind of you to share your hospitality with us," Donna blushed while Josh murmured concurrence, then slowly lowered himself into the nearest chair.

"You're quite welcome," the older woman's eyes were sharp and clear. "Dr. Bartlet was very kind to Jackson and Evangeline when he had his surgery."

"You know the First Lady?" Josh's voice betrayed weariness but also curiosity.

The older woman peered into the refrigerator. "She repaired my son's aneurysm back in '91-after the Gulf War." Satisfied that it was well-stocked, she shooed the children out of the door. "She's a fine woman."

"Yes, she is," Josh said firmly, looking at Donna. "A fine woman." His eyes lingered for a moment before returning to their guest.

"Well, ring the house if you need anything-the number's next to the phone." The visitor paused at the door, realizing the house guests were trying not to stare at her and her ears.

She sighed a big sigh, rolled her eyes before explaining, as if to small children, as she walked out the door, "It's short for Mother Dear."