Part 3
***
Josh didn't understand. He knew the words, of course: their meanings, and how
they fit together. It was their implication that he could not comprehend.
"Are you saying it's a tumor? It's cancer?"
CJ slipped her arm around his shoulders. She smelled like the apple-mint candies
she kept stealing from Carol's desk. "She honestly doesn't know for certain.
There was a preliminary aspiration that didn't give a clear result, so she's
going in for surgery. Once it's out, they can determine if it's..."
If you don't say the word, then it's not true. Josh thought of his father, and
how neither he nor his mother would actually say "cancer" aloud, not even the
second time. It was unspeakable.
"How does this tie in with Jack?" Josh asked, puzzled.
CJ stiffened. "He's the one who spotted it. Felt it. When he was here a couple
of weeks ago. Donna was sure it was nothing, but she went to the doctor anyway
and it looks more complicated."
He'd had his hands on her. Had made love to her. But if he hadn't, this might
have gone undetected. No, Josh couldn't go there now.
"She's scared, Josh," CJ said quietly. "I mean, seriously scared."
The shame was razor-edged, cutting deeply. "Oh, my God, I am such a schmuck." He
ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head and blowing out a breath. "I've
got to talk to her."
"An apology wouldn't be completely out of line, you know." CJ hugged him. "I
think she'll accept it. Especially if you still look so pathetic and contrite
when you get to her."
"I look pathetic?"
CJ gave him an appraising look from head to toe. She smirked. "Never more so.
Get out there and talk to her before you get your natural whatever back."
He nodded, his head heavy and his neck stiff and sore. On the way out the door,
he turned to her. "Thanks. For getting to the bottom of it."
"It's what I do, Joshua, it's what I do. Now, go abase yourself - I haven't
finished yelling at Toby yet." She waved him away.
On the way out he stole a piece of apple-mint candy for himself, then leaned
back over Carol's candy dish to pick out a second one for Donna.
***
Bartlet hated the distance enforced by the size of his desk. He felt
uncomfortable, as if he couldn't sit down at it and hold a discreet conversation
with someone who might as well have been across a chasm. When Charlie came into
the office, therefore, the President got up and took his usual seat in the
center of the room. Charlie took the offered chair opposite him.
"Leo's coming in a minute," Bartlet said. "Did Deanna get home all right?"
"She hasn't called, but I assume she's either home or at the gym." Charlie's
face was weary and his shoulders were slumped.
"Working off some of that anger?"
Charlie shrugged. "Honestly, Mr. President, I don't think there are enough
freeweights in the world for that. And some of that anger is directed at me."
"Yeah, I figured." Bartlet grimaced at the recollection of Deanna's strident
objections to his well-reasoned arguments. "She got in a couple of good shots at
Leo, too."
"That, she did," Leo said as he entered, straightening his tie. "Sorry, I was on
the phone with Toby, who's doing quite a song and dance about the whole
artificial leg thing."
"How's that going?" Bartlet asked, nodding toward the tea tray in hopes that Leo
would bring it over to the table. There wasn't an unpleasant discussion in the
world that couldn't be made better with tea. He would prefer whiskey, truth be
told, but there was Leo to consider.
Leo set the antique the silver service down with great care. "It's as if he's
trying to get a stay, regardless of his denials. Or maybe trying to get the
White House involved by bringing up Charlie and Deanna." Leo poured a cup and
handed it to the President, then started one for Charlie. "Or maybe it's exactly
what he says it is, that he's genuinely repentant and wants to get punished,
only he wants to do it like a man. Who knows?"
Charlie put a lump of sugar and a lemon wedge in his cup and stirred it,
breathing in the delicate aroma. "That's one of the things we want to ask him."
"So you're going to the prison? That's definite?" Leo asked, pausing with the
sugar tongs just above the bowl.
"I don't see any way out of it."
Bartlet shook his head. "But is it what you want?"
"I don't know," Charlie replied evenly. "At this point, I'm so tired and
emotional that I wouldn't trust myself to choose what to eat for dinner.
However, it's what Deanna seems to want." He stirred his tea again,
absent-mindedly tapping the spoon against the china. "Anyway, that's as much as
I need. As for me, I'd be perfectly happy never to lay eyes on the son of a
bitch. Oh - excuse me," he added, ducking to avoid their eyes.
Leo took a sip of tea and sat forward in his chair. "Not a problem. Especially
under the circumstances."
"Thanks. Monday's going to be been a hard day, and it looks like it's about to
get harder."
"What do you mean?" Bartlet asked, bracing himself for whatever might be
barreling down at him.
"CJ just told me that Donna's having surgery on Monday. They, uh, found a lump
in her breast."
"Good God," Bartlet sighed. "Poor kid must be scared half to death." He saw
Leo's face fall and realized that his friend would be equally worried about
Josh's reaction. "Should we do anything?"
"I wouldn't," Charlie said. "She's pretty freaked as it is, and Josh isn't
likely to be what you'd call a calming presence."
Leo shook his head, a hint of a smile curling his lips. "Don't write him off.
He's got untapped resources. He's there when you need him."
Bartlet wondered where Leo's defense of Josh had been during the "Senatorial
Scandal," and if it had hurt him to offer to sacrifice Josh. Abraham with his
knife at Isaac's throat, stopped not by God but by Abbey. There was some
fascinating irony in there, someplace.
"We were going to cure cancer," Bartlet mused aloud. "Remember when we had Sam
on that for the State of the Union? What a shame we couldn't make it real."
Finishing his tea, he put the saucer on the tray and rose, Charlie and Leo
following his example. "Anyway, keep me posted on Donna and let me know if
there's anything I can do. For her or for Josh. It's hard to be the guy people
depend on to be strong. You know that all too well, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," Charlie murmured.
Bartlet clasped his shoulder. "You've been that guy for so long, Charlie, and
you've done a terrific job. Deanna's a remarkable young woman. She'll come
through this."
"Yes, sir," Charlie said again. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get some papers
together for Debbie."
"Of course, of course." Bartlet watched Charlie leave the room, head hanging,
and turned to Leo. He didn't need to say how much pain he felt, not to his old
friend, who gave him a grim smile and a nod. "Remember, I told you there'd been
a time when he said he'd want to do it himself? Now, he's not so sure. He's
changed a lot."
"That he has," Leo agreed. "He's an extraordinary person. I don't know where
we'd be without him, I really don't."
Bartlet let the silence wash over them for a moment as he reflected on the years
he'd spent with Charlie, which reminded him of Josh, which reminded him of
Donna. "Maybe I should talk to Donna," he said.
Leo shook his head. "Don't. Last thing she needs right now is another man
telling her something's going to be okay when it really isn't."
"You're right. And since I can't do anything for people right here in this very
building, then perhaps I should turn my attention to the rest of the nation."
"Don't take it to heart, sir. Any of it. You'll let Charlie work it out for
himself, and you'll find a way to let Donna know you're concerned without
cornering her."
Smiling, Bartlet got out of the chair and walked back to his desk. "Sage advice,
my friend. I'll follow it to the best of my ability. Listen, I'm going back to
the Residence in a few minutes - don't stick around here too late, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Good night." Leo went through the connecting door and closed it
behind him. Bartlet sat down behind the enormous desk, contemplating distances
real and imagined.
***
Donna was sitting at Josh's desk, scrolling through something on his computer.
The background of the website was pale green, reflecting its color on Donna's
face and turning it a sickly gray. Josh shuddered. She had cancer. She was sick,
being eaten away by something.
Or not. CJ said no one was sure. But. Still.
"I'll be out of here in a minute. I didn't want to look this stuff up where
people could see."
"I'm people," Josh said, wincing at the tension in his voice.
It was worth it to see Donna smile, even if it was just for a moment. "There's
room for debate on that point," she said as she clicked on another link,
scowled, then closed the browser. "What do you need?"
"This is my office, I--" He shook his head. "I'm not looking for an argument. I
came to say that I got it way, way wrong and I'm sorry." He put his hands out,
palms upward. "About all of it."
She pursed her lips. "Don't," she said.
"Don't, what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
Perplexed, he shook his head again. "Like what?"
"Right in the eye, so you won't accidentally glance at my chest and wonder which
one I'm going to lose!" Her voice was way too high, too tight. Too close to
hysteria. She knew it, too, he could tell, because she clasped her hands
together and took a deep breath.
He ran the few short steps to where she was sitting and crouched beside her. Her
hands felt like ice as he took them gently between his. "I'll look wherever you
tell me," he said, his throat thick with fear. "It's just that I don't know what
to do. And since that never happens, I don't know what to do about it, meaning
there's still another thing I don't know."
Even though Donna laughed, a single tear slipped down her cheek, careening
toward her nose before falling on top of their clasped hands. "I'm sorry. You
didn't deserve that. It's just that everyone who knows keeps looking at me,
square in the eye, then dropping down and turning all red, and I know what
they're thinking: left or right?" One corner of her mouth turned up. "Left, in
case you're wondering."
"You don't know that for certain," Josh protested. "CJ said they're going to do
tests, that it might not be so bad..."
"It's not just that, Josh. There are lymph nodes that have to come out, and
there's pain and numbness and God knows how long it'll be before I can DO
anything."
"It's going to be okay," Josh said, then he frowned. "That was so absolutely
lame."
"Know what's even lamer than that? We're the government, so we don't have to
abide by the Women's Breast Health Act or whatever they call it."
"There's a--"
"Shut up." Donna pulled her hands free and used one to point at a folder lying
on Josh's desk. "It says that any insurance that covers mastectomy has to cover
reconstruction. Only ours doesn't. Because we wrote the law but we aren't bound
by it."
"So they'll pay for the surgery and whatever treatment is necessary, but not the
reconstruction."
She looked balefully at him. "It's the same company that wanted you to get
estimates before having your lung repaired, so can you honestly express
surprise?"
"Not really." Josh looked down at the floor, then back up into Donna's enormous,
sad eyes. "I'll take care of it," he declared. "They say that stress can bring
on illness, and God knows I'ved given you enough stress to come down with eleven
different diseases."
"Oh, Josh," Donna sniffed, "that's so insanely sweet. But I'm going to handle
it. I can't have people saying you paid for my boob job."
"One-hundred-and-first senator and conoisseur of plastic surgery," he quipped.
"That'll be my legacy."
Her attempt at a watery smile broke his heart. "We'll have matching scars," she
said very softly.
He remembered the heat of angry tears the first time the bandages came off and
he had seen the damage done to his body. The thought of Donna standing in front
of a mirror, looking...he forced the image out of his brain and cleared his
throat. "'It doesn't matter what kind of scar you have,'" he said, quoting her
from that very day, "'it's what's inside that people will love.' A very smart
woman told me that, once."
Donna blushed, the first normal color he had seen on her face. "I didn't think
you were listening."
He had hung on to every word, but he could not bring himself to tell her that.
Instead, he touched her damp cheek with a finger and gave her the best smile he
could manage.
A shadow fell over them. A literal shadow, and when they looked up, Josh saw
that Toby was standing in the doorway. "Sorry. To interrupt. I can come back."
"No, no, it's fine. What do you need?" Josh asked, getting unsteadily to his
feet.
"Someone called CJ a while ago to say that they'd donate a prosthetic leg to
Ritenour if they could get it back after the execution."
This was becoming a circus. "That's a little grotesque. What did you tell them?"
"I said that executions don't work like that, so we'll see what CJ makes of it."
"Yeah, good answer." Josh could see Toby shifting from one foot to the other,
his hands clasped behind his back. "Anything else?"
Calmly, his voice laden with sympathy, Toby turned to Donna. "I'm sorry about
the mixup, earlier. And even sorrier to know what's really going on. I know it's
not...enough, but if there's anything I can do, you know you can ask me, right?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, you can tell the government to quit passing
laws but exempting themselves from them."
Josh saw the confusion on Toby's face. "She says that our insurance won't cover
reconstruction."
"Because the Women's Health and Cancer Act of 1998 isn't something the U.S.
government actually participates in?" Toby sighed. "That doesn't surprise me. In
their defense, however, I have to say that they did pay for Andi's in vitro
procedures."
"When you were married," Donna put in. Josh steeled himself for what he knew was
coming next.
"And the ones that produced Huck and Molly," Toby said, obviously not
recognizing that he had just stepped on about sixty land mines.
Donna stood up and gestured wildly. "You and Andi got to have multiple tries at
having a baby, at what, twenty thousand dollars each time, when I can't get my
body put back the way it was to begin with?"
The sympathy in Toby's voice had an edge to it. "Donna, I understand your
outrage, and your point has a great deal of merit. But I have no control over
the way the Federal Government exempts itself, nor do I have control over what
our insurance company chooses to cover or not."
"I don't care! No, Josh," Donna added, shaking off the calming hand Josh placed
on her arm, "this is ridiculous. They're not even married. This isn't about a
married couple trying to have a baby - although I'd debate whether that's health
or lifestyle, even if they were - it's about Toby's desperation to get Andi back
and how it overrode his common sense."
Toby's eyes flashed fire. Josh tried to get his attention, tried to communicate
that Donna was distraught, that he shouldn't take any of this personally. Toby
kept his voice dangerously neutral. "I don't think that's any of your concern,
Donna," he mumbled.
"It becomes my concern when you pull out photos of your twins, who were only
born because insurance would pay for their conception! It's my concern that they
spent so much money giving you a pair of designer babies that they can't afford
to give me something approximating the breast I was born with!"
"I am sorry," Toby murmured into the agonizing silence that followed. "I know
you're under a lot of stress, and that you're afraid. I just think this is a
conversation that we'd rather forget."
Tears streamed down Donna's face. "Toby, I know you and Andi love your children.
I'm not saying they shouldn't have been born. God, please, you know I don't mean
that." She brushed past Josh and walked up to Toby, putting her arms around his
waist and burying her face in his shoulder. He looked so shocked that Josh would
have chuckled if his heart wasn't so perilously close to shattering.
Toby hugged Donna very gently. "It is positively archaic that a woman's body is
only considered worth repairing if it can't bear a child," he murmured into her
hair. His gaze connected with Josh, conveying helplessness.
Josh walked up to them and pried Donna loose. She gave them a weak smile, then
went back to her cubicle so they would not see how hard she was struggling to
regain her composure. "You're right," Josh said softly, watching Donna's
hesitant steps, "and that's something we need to talk about. Just not tonight."
Nodding, Toby patted Josh on the shoulder. "I shouldn't have taken the bait like
that."
"Nah, it's your kids. I'd have been disappointed in you if you hadn't." He
glanced at Donna, then back at Toby. "Still. I wish we could do something."
Josh had seen this look on Toby's face before: the one that said his fine mind
was ten steps ahead before Josh was even out of his seat. Something was up, and
Josh felt part of the burden easing even as Toby started talking to him.
"I'm going to get some guidance. I'll talk to you later," Toby said firmly
before turning around and walking over to Donna's desk. He smiled at her with
more warmth than Josh had seen him show in a long time, then strode purposefully
toward the lobby.
***
Sunsets from the portico were a beautiful sight. Bartlet draped his arm around
Charlie's shoulders as they watched this one together in silence.
***
"CJ! CJ! CJ!"
She called on Mike, who asked, "Does Charlie Young have a statement about the
execution of Bernard Ritenour?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Will he and his sister be meeting with Ritenour? I have sources--"
"Not that I'm aware of. Steve?"
***
Josh hit the power button on the remote with more force than necessary, putting
an abrupt end to the next reporter's question. He pushed aside the folder with
the insurance information. He folded his arms on the desk, leaning forward
little by little. Eventually he gave up and laid his head down, letting the
darkness and silence surround him.
***
Toby sat near the end of the row in the back of the sanctuary. He had to crane
his neck to see the Torah scroll be brought out of the ark and laid down for the
reading. The rabbi draped it with the beautifully embroidered mantle. "Now, as
is our custom, we will say a Mi Shebeirach for those in need of healing." He
looked out into the congregation and Toby raised his hand. Before he could open
his mouth, he heard a woman's familiar voice saying, "Donnatella Moss."
He saw the men in the black suits before he saw the woman they were flanking.
Immediately he stood, offering her the seat next to him. "I didn't know you were
here, ma'am."
"My husband said you'd be here," Abigail Bartlet whispered, turning her
attention toward the pulpit, and all at once Toby knew that he'd found the
guidance he needed.
***
End Part 3
Feedback is sweeter than a sweet thing, sweet thing:
marguerite@swbell.net or Marguerite@operamail.com
***
Josh didn't understand. He knew the words, of course: their meanings, and how
they fit together. It was their implication that he could not comprehend.
"Are you saying it's a tumor? It's cancer?"
CJ slipped her arm around his shoulders. She smelled like the apple-mint candies
she kept stealing from Carol's desk. "She honestly doesn't know for certain.
There was a preliminary aspiration that didn't give a clear result, so she's
going in for surgery. Once it's out, they can determine if it's..."
If you don't say the word, then it's not true. Josh thought of his father, and
how neither he nor his mother would actually say "cancer" aloud, not even the
second time. It was unspeakable.
"How does this tie in with Jack?" Josh asked, puzzled.
CJ stiffened. "He's the one who spotted it. Felt it. When he was here a couple
of weeks ago. Donna was sure it was nothing, but she went to the doctor anyway
and it looks more complicated."
He'd had his hands on her. Had made love to her. But if he hadn't, this might
have gone undetected. No, Josh couldn't go there now.
"She's scared, Josh," CJ said quietly. "I mean, seriously scared."
The shame was razor-edged, cutting deeply. "Oh, my God, I am such a schmuck." He
ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head and blowing out a breath. "I've
got to talk to her."
"An apology wouldn't be completely out of line, you know." CJ hugged him. "I
think she'll accept it. Especially if you still look so pathetic and contrite
when you get to her."
"I look pathetic?"
CJ gave him an appraising look from head to toe. She smirked. "Never more so.
Get out there and talk to her before you get your natural whatever back."
He nodded, his head heavy and his neck stiff and sore. On the way out the door,
he turned to her. "Thanks. For getting to the bottom of it."
"It's what I do, Joshua, it's what I do. Now, go abase yourself - I haven't
finished yelling at Toby yet." She waved him away.
On the way out he stole a piece of apple-mint candy for himself, then leaned
back over Carol's candy dish to pick out a second one for Donna.
***
Bartlet hated the distance enforced by the size of his desk. He felt
uncomfortable, as if he couldn't sit down at it and hold a discreet conversation
with someone who might as well have been across a chasm. When Charlie came into
the office, therefore, the President got up and took his usual seat in the
center of the room. Charlie took the offered chair opposite him.
"Leo's coming in a minute," Bartlet said. "Did Deanna get home all right?"
"She hasn't called, but I assume she's either home or at the gym." Charlie's
face was weary and his shoulders were slumped.
"Working off some of that anger?"
Charlie shrugged. "Honestly, Mr. President, I don't think there are enough
freeweights in the world for that. And some of that anger is directed at me."
"Yeah, I figured." Bartlet grimaced at the recollection of Deanna's strident
objections to his well-reasoned arguments. "She got in a couple of good shots at
Leo, too."
"That, she did," Leo said as he entered, straightening his tie. "Sorry, I was on
the phone with Toby, who's doing quite a song and dance about the whole
artificial leg thing."
"How's that going?" Bartlet asked, nodding toward the tea tray in hopes that Leo
would bring it over to the table. There wasn't an unpleasant discussion in the
world that couldn't be made better with tea. He would prefer whiskey, truth be
told, but there was Leo to consider.
Leo set the antique the silver service down with great care. "It's as if he's
trying to get a stay, regardless of his denials. Or maybe trying to get the
White House involved by bringing up Charlie and Deanna." Leo poured a cup and
handed it to the President, then started one for Charlie. "Or maybe it's exactly
what he says it is, that he's genuinely repentant and wants to get punished,
only he wants to do it like a man. Who knows?"
Charlie put a lump of sugar and a lemon wedge in his cup and stirred it,
breathing in the delicate aroma. "That's one of the things we want to ask him."
"So you're going to the prison? That's definite?" Leo asked, pausing with the
sugar tongs just above the bowl.
"I don't see any way out of it."
Bartlet shook his head. "But is it what you want?"
"I don't know," Charlie replied evenly. "At this point, I'm so tired and
emotional that I wouldn't trust myself to choose what to eat for dinner.
However, it's what Deanna seems to want." He stirred his tea again,
absent-mindedly tapping the spoon against the china. "Anyway, that's as much as
I need. As for me, I'd be perfectly happy never to lay eyes on the son of a
bitch. Oh - excuse me," he added, ducking to avoid their eyes.
Leo took a sip of tea and sat forward in his chair. "Not a problem. Especially
under the circumstances."
"Thanks. Monday's going to be been a hard day, and it looks like it's about to
get harder."
"What do you mean?" Bartlet asked, bracing himself for whatever might be
barreling down at him.
"CJ just told me that Donna's having surgery on Monday. They, uh, found a lump
in her breast."
"Good God," Bartlet sighed. "Poor kid must be scared half to death." He saw
Leo's face fall and realized that his friend would be equally worried about
Josh's reaction. "Should we do anything?"
"I wouldn't," Charlie said. "She's pretty freaked as it is, and Josh isn't
likely to be what you'd call a calming presence."
Leo shook his head, a hint of a smile curling his lips. "Don't write him off.
He's got untapped resources. He's there when you need him."
Bartlet wondered where Leo's defense of Josh had been during the "Senatorial
Scandal," and if it had hurt him to offer to sacrifice Josh. Abraham with his
knife at Isaac's throat, stopped not by God but by Abbey. There was some
fascinating irony in there, someplace.
"We were going to cure cancer," Bartlet mused aloud. "Remember when we had Sam
on that for the State of the Union? What a shame we couldn't make it real."
Finishing his tea, he put the saucer on the tray and rose, Charlie and Leo
following his example. "Anyway, keep me posted on Donna and let me know if
there's anything I can do. For her or for Josh. It's hard to be the guy people
depend on to be strong. You know that all too well, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," Charlie murmured.
Bartlet clasped his shoulder. "You've been that guy for so long, Charlie, and
you've done a terrific job. Deanna's a remarkable young woman. She'll come
through this."
"Yes, sir," Charlie said again. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get some papers
together for Debbie."
"Of course, of course." Bartlet watched Charlie leave the room, head hanging,
and turned to Leo. He didn't need to say how much pain he felt, not to his old
friend, who gave him a grim smile and a nod. "Remember, I told you there'd been
a time when he said he'd want to do it himself? Now, he's not so sure. He's
changed a lot."
"That he has," Leo agreed. "He's an extraordinary person. I don't know where
we'd be without him, I really don't."
Bartlet let the silence wash over them for a moment as he reflected on the years
he'd spent with Charlie, which reminded him of Josh, which reminded him of
Donna. "Maybe I should talk to Donna," he said.
Leo shook his head. "Don't. Last thing she needs right now is another man
telling her something's going to be okay when it really isn't."
"You're right. And since I can't do anything for people right here in this very
building, then perhaps I should turn my attention to the rest of the nation."
"Don't take it to heart, sir. Any of it. You'll let Charlie work it out for
himself, and you'll find a way to let Donna know you're concerned without
cornering her."
Smiling, Bartlet got out of the chair and walked back to his desk. "Sage advice,
my friend. I'll follow it to the best of my ability. Listen, I'm going back to
the Residence in a few minutes - don't stick around here too late, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Good night." Leo went through the connecting door and closed it
behind him. Bartlet sat down behind the enormous desk, contemplating distances
real and imagined.
***
Donna was sitting at Josh's desk, scrolling through something on his computer.
The background of the website was pale green, reflecting its color on Donna's
face and turning it a sickly gray. Josh shuddered. She had cancer. She was sick,
being eaten away by something.
Or not. CJ said no one was sure. But. Still.
"I'll be out of here in a minute. I didn't want to look this stuff up where
people could see."
"I'm people," Josh said, wincing at the tension in his voice.
It was worth it to see Donna smile, even if it was just for a moment. "There's
room for debate on that point," she said as she clicked on another link,
scowled, then closed the browser. "What do you need?"
"This is my office, I--" He shook his head. "I'm not looking for an argument. I
came to say that I got it way, way wrong and I'm sorry." He put his hands out,
palms upward. "About all of it."
She pursed her lips. "Don't," she said.
"Don't, what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
Perplexed, he shook his head again. "Like what?"
"Right in the eye, so you won't accidentally glance at my chest and wonder which
one I'm going to lose!" Her voice was way too high, too tight. Too close to
hysteria. She knew it, too, he could tell, because she clasped her hands
together and took a deep breath.
He ran the few short steps to where she was sitting and crouched beside her. Her
hands felt like ice as he took them gently between his. "I'll look wherever you
tell me," he said, his throat thick with fear. "It's just that I don't know what
to do. And since that never happens, I don't know what to do about it, meaning
there's still another thing I don't know."
Even though Donna laughed, a single tear slipped down her cheek, careening
toward her nose before falling on top of their clasped hands. "I'm sorry. You
didn't deserve that. It's just that everyone who knows keeps looking at me,
square in the eye, then dropping down and turning all red, and I know what
they're thinking: left or right?" One corner of her mouth turned up. "Left, in
case you're wondering."
"You don't know that for certain," Josh protested. "CJ said they're going to do
tests, that it might not be so bad..."
"It's not just that, Josh. There are lymph nodes that have to come out, and
there's pain and numbness and God knows how long it'll be before I can DO
anything."
"It's going to be okay," Josh said, then he frowned. "That was so absolutely
lame."
"Know what's even lamer than that? We're the government, so we don't have to
abide by the Women's Breast Health Act or whatever they call it."
"There's a--"
"Shut up." Donna pulled her hands free and used one to point at a folder lying
on Josh's desk. "It says that any insurance that covers mastectomy has to cover
reconstruction. Only ours doesn't. Because we wrote the law but we aren't bound
by it."
"So they'll pay for the surgery and whatever treatment is necessary, but not the
reconstruction."
She looked balefully at him. "It's the same company that wanted you to get
estimates before having your lung repaired, so can you honestly express
surprise?"
"Not really." Josh looked down at the floor, then back up into Donna's enormous,
sad eyes. "I'll take care of it," he declared. "They say that stress can bring
on illness, and God knows I'ved given you enough stress to come down with eleven
different diseases."
"Oh, Josh," Donna sniffed, "that's so insanely sweet. But I'm going to handle
it. I can't have people saying you paid for my boob job."
"One-hundred-and-first senator and conoisseur of plastic surgery," he quipped.
"That'll be my legacy."
Her attempt at a watery smile broke his heart. "We'll have matching scars," she
said very softly.
He remembered the heat of angry tears the first time the bandages came off and
he had seen the damage done to his body. The thought of Donna standing in front
of a mirror, looking...he forced the image out of his brain and cleared his
throat. "'It doesn't matter what kind of scar you have,'" he said, quoting her
from that very day, "'it's what's inside that people will love.' A very smart
woman told me that, once."
Donna blushed, the first normal color he had seen on her face. "I didn't think
you were listening."
He had hung on to every word, but he could not bring himself to tell her that.
Instead, he touched her damp cheek with a finger and gave her the best smile he
could manage.
A shadow fell over them. A literal shadow, and when they looked up, Josh saw
that Toby was standing in the doorway. "Sorry. To interrupt. I can come back."
"No, no, it's fine. What do you need?" Josh asked, getting unsteadily to his
feet.
"Someone called CJ a while ago to say that they'd donate a prosthetic leg to
Ritenour if they could get it back after the execution."
This was becoming a circus. "That's a little grotesque. What did you tell them?"
"I said that executions don't work like that, so we'll see what CJ makes of it."
"Yeah, good answer." Josh could see Toby shifting from one foot to the other,
his hands clasped behind his back. "Anything else?"
Calmly, his voice laden with sympathy, Toby turned to Donna. "I'm sorry about
the mixup, earlier. And even sorrier to know what's really going on. I know it's
not...enough, but if there's anything I can do, you know you can ask me, right?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, you can tell the government to quit passing
laws but exempting themselves from them."
Josh saw the confusion on Toby's face. "She says that our insurance won't cover
reconstruction."
"Because the Women's Health and Cancer Act of 1998 isn't something the U.S.
government actually participates in?" Toby sighed. "That doesn't surprise me. In
their defense, however, I have to say that they did pay for Andi's in vitro
procedures."
"When you were married," Donna put in. Josh steeled himself for what he knew was
coming next.
"And the ones that produced Huck and Molly," Toby said, obviously not
recognizing that he had just stepped on about sixty land mines.
Donna stood up and gestured wildly. "You and Andi got to have multiple tries at
having a baby, at what, twenty thousand dollars each time, when I can't get my
body put back the way it was to begin with?"
The sympathy in Toby's voice had an edge to it. "Donna, I understand your
outrage, and your point has a great deal of merit. But I have no control over
the way the Federal Government exempts itself, nor do I have control over what
our insurance company chooses to cover or not."
"I don't care! No, Josh," Donna added, shaking off the calming hand Josh placed
on her arm, "this is ridiculous. They're not even married. This isn't about a
married couple trying to have a baby - although I'd debate whether that's health
or lifestyle, even if they were - it's about Toby's desperation to get Andi back
and how it overrode his common sense."
Toby's eyes flashed fire. Josh tried to get his attention, tried to communicate
that Donna was distraught, that he shouldn't take any of this personally. Toby
kept his voice dangerously neutral. "I don't think that's any of your concern,
Donna," he mumbled.
"It becomes my concern when you pull out photos of your twins, who were only
born because insurance would pay for their conception! It's my concern that they
spent so much money giving you a pair of designer babies that they can't afford
to give me something approximating the breast I was born with!"
"I am sorry," Toby murmured into the agonizing silence that followed. "I know
you're under a lot of stress, and that you're afraid. I just think this is a
conversation that we'd rather forget."
Tears streamed down Donna's face. "Toby, I know you and Andi love your children.
I'm not saying they shouldn't have been born. God, please, you know I don't mean
that." She brushed past Josh and walked up to Toby, putting her arms around his
waist and burying her face in his shoulder. He looked so shocked that Josh would
have chuckled if his heart wasn't so perilously close to shattering.
Toby hugged Donna very gently. "It is positively archaic that a woman's body is
only considered worth repairing if it can't bear a child," he murmured into her
hair. His gaze connected with Josh, conveying helplessness.
Josh walked up to them and pried Donna loose. She gave them a weak smile, then
went back to her cubicle so they would not see how hard she was struggling to
regain her composure. "You're right," Josh said softly, watching Donna's
hesitant steps, "and that's something we need to talk about. Just not tonight."
Nodding, Toby patted Josh on the shoulder. "I shouldn't have taken the bait like
that."
"Nah, it's your kids. I'd have been disappointed in you if you hadn't." He
glanced at Donna, then back at Toby. "Still. I wish we could do something."
Josh had seen this look on Toby's face before: the one that said his fine mind
was ten steps ahead before Josh was even out of his seat. Something was up, and
Josh felt part of the burden easing even as Toby started talking to him.
"I'm going to get some guidance. I'll talk to you later," Toby said firmly
before turning around and walking over to Donna's desk. He smiled at her with
more warmth than Josh had seen him show in a long time, then strode purposefully
toward the lobby.
***
Sunsets from the portico were a beautiful sight. Bartlet draped his arm around
Charlie's shoulders as they watched this one together in silence.
***
"CJ! CJ! CJ!"
She called on Mike, who asked, "Does Charlie Young have a statement about the
execution of Bernard Ritenour?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Will he and his sister be meeting with Ritenour? I have sources--"
"Not that I'm aware of. Steve?"
***
Josh hit the power button on the remote with more force than necessary, putting
an abrupt end to the next reporter's question. He pushed aside the folder with
the insurance information. He folded his arms on the desk, leaning forward
little by little. Eventually he gave up and laid his head down, letting the
darkness and silence surround him.
***
Toby sat near the end of the row in the back of the sanctuary. He had to crane
his neck to see the Torah scroll be brought out of the ark and laid down for the
reading. The rabbi draped it with the beautifully embroidered mantle. "Now, as
is our custom, we will say a Mi Shebeirach for those in need of healing." He
looked out into the congregation and Toby raised his hand. Before he could open
his mouth, he heard a woman's familiar voice saying, "Donnatella Moss."
He saw the men in the black suits before he saw the woman they were flanking.
Immediately he stood, offering her the seat next to him. "I didn't know you were
here, ma'am."
"My husband said you'd be here," Abigail Bartlet whispered, turning her
attention toward the pulpit, and all at once Toby knew that he'd found the
guidance he needed.
***
End Part 3
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