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chapter fifty-five

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am i ready for forever?
oh, god, show me a sign
'cause if we're to be together
then it's got to be divine
-Dana Glover, "Thinking Over"

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December 27, 2003
7:40 pm

"Martin?" Sam asked quietly, stepping out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

He glanced up as he heard her footsteps moving closer, but his hands were still working at fastening the last button on his dark blue dress shirt. "Yes?"

He felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw her standing in the bathroom doorway, her periwinkle blue dress clinging to her figure in all the right places and her new diamond jewelry sparkling in the soft light of the room. Even after all of these months, every time he looked at Sam he found himself struck by just how beautiful she was.

"How come you didn't tell me President Bartlett is going to be at this party tonight?" she asked softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

Martin stepped forward and motioned for her to sit on the edge of the bed. The bed dipped as he knelt behind her and began to slowly massage her shoulders; she was really tense about this party tonight. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I didn't know myself until just yesterday; I thought the President was still going to be in Michigan with his family. The First Lady and Nancy Adair are old friends, so I have a feeling that has something to do with it."

"Okay," Sam sighed, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes.

"Sam," he breathed, "It's going to be fine. There's nothing to worry about."

He knew that she was nervous. She would never admit it, but she had been a little bit on edge as the day wore on. She had been fine all morning while they had been with his family during the party his mother insisted on throwing together for Alex and Natalie. Rebecca protested the idea at first, but eventually gave in to the guilt to avoid fighting with Victor.

In the end, Martin was glad that Rebecca had agreed to the party. It was a low-key event as far as his mother was concerned, but it was good for her to have an official outlet to dote on her newest grandchildren, both of whom she had fallen in love with already as Martin had predicted.

He wondered one day, what his own children might be like. Although Sam would deny it at all costs, she was a natural with his nieces and nephew, and seeing her holding them, becoming comfortable with them, made his heart skip a beat.

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's okay, Sam," he rubbed her back as he spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "It's really not going to be a big thing."

Sam turned her head and gave him a skeptical look. "That's easy for you to say."

"Would it make you feel better if you brought your gun, just in case?" he teased, trying to lighten her mood.

She grinned at him and rolled her eyes as she replied, "Don't worry. I was planning on it."

xx

9:50 pm

Martin took hold of the wine glasses that the bartender held out to him and walked back over to where Sam was standing with Colin and Nancy Adair, First Lady Jamie Bartlett, and Charlie Hughes, the Senate Majority Leader. He smiled to himself as he watched her; when he left to refill their wine glasses, she had been deep in conversation with Hughes and holding her own. Not only was he with the most beautiful woman in the room, but he was with one of the only ones who could hold a conversation about something other than frivolous interests: hair, clothing, Capital Hill gossip, etc.

Not that Sam wouldn't be able to participate in gossip-oriented discussions, of course. He noticed on several occasions the tabloid issue magazines that Sam would purchase, although when asked she would always either deny it or change the subject.

"Here you are," he said as he returned to her side, holding one glass out to her.

She smiled as she accepted the glass. "Thank you," she replied.

"Martin," Charlie Hughes turned to him, his voice rattling like that of a man who smoked for many years, "How come you didn't tell us that Samantha knew Natasha Tzetcovich?"

"Natasha Tzetcovich?" he asked, his mind racing as he tried to place where he had heard that name before. "You mean the famous teenage violinist?"

"Mmhmm," Sam nodded and sipped from her wine glass. "You probably don't remember, but she went missing a few months ago and we were the team that investigated it. It was just before your aunt's biopsy came back..."

"Oh, that's right," he said with a small nod. He had a vague recollection of her mentioning a violinist who had gone missing, but the time surrounding Aunt Bonnie's diagnosis was mostly a blur to him. "I think I remember that now."

"We were just saying how nice it is that she's decided to start playing again," Hughes commented, crossing his arms over his chest. Hughes turned to address the First Lady, "You went the last time she came to the Kennedy Center, right?"

"She was magnificent," Jamie replied emphatically, "So incredibly talented."

"She's rescheduled a few dates for this summer although she's cut back significantly," Hughes added.

"Well, she's sixteen," Sam said, shrugging her shoulders. She spoke with confidence and finality in her tone, but managed to express herself without sounding too challenging or confrontational. "She wants to have a normal life. It's hard to argue with that."

The group fell silent as each seemed to contemplate their own thoughts, the air filled with the general rumble of other groups' conversation and the music from the string quartet. Martin smiled at Sam and wrapped his free arm around her waist, enjoying being out in her company. He could tell she was still feeling a bit uncomfortable and out of her element, but she was handling herself with the poise and grace of someone who had been doing this her entire life.

Furthermore she seemed to have endeared herself to Nancy Adair, which Martin learned was one of the fastest ways to assure your approval amongst Capital Hill society. Colin Adair was not only his senior and mentor in the Senate, but one of the most well-liked and respected members of their party. Her over twenty-five years of experience as a Senator's wife, coupled by her long-time friendship with the First Lady, made her one of the leading women in the political circles with which Martin kept himself allied.

He was secretly pleased that she seemed to have made a good impression on Nancy and Colin Adair. Colin had even mentioned the four of them getting dinner together the next time an opportunity arose, which he took as a good sign. Colin was more than just a respected colleague and mentor, but had become a good friend over the course of the last two years since he first approached Martin to encourage him to run for the open Senate seat.

xx

Martin heard the knock on his office door and sighed as he looked up from his computer screen.

"Come in," he said.

"Mr. Fitzgerald?" Teresa, the petite woman who was one of the office secretaries, opened the door ajar and poked her head inside his office. "There's a visitor here to see you."

He nodded resolutely, hitting 'save' on his computer screen before closing the spreadsheet he had been revising. "Send them on in." He watched as Teresa bit her bottom lip; there was something she wasn't telling him. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's Senator Adair, sir," Teresa replied, trying to fight back a giggle. Teresa frequently had her head in the clouds and was attracted to money and power. She was a sweet girl, but very immature and flighty. There were rumors going around that she was interested in him, but then, there were rumors going around that she was sleeping with Jimmy Dalton, the corporation's heir apparent. Furthermore, Martin would never be interested; he liked more substance in the women he dated.

Martin had met Senator Adair on one occasion when he had been invited by President Bartlett's Chief of Staff as an expert to make budget recommendations. "Well, then," Martin said, "Go ahead and send him in."

Teresa disappeared in a flash, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and after a few moments there was another soft knock and the door swung open on its hinges.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," Senator Adair shut the door behind him and held out his hand.

"Senator, sir," Martin replied, rising from his desk and walking over to shake the Senator's hand. "It's a pleasure. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm here on behalf of the Democratic Party and President Bartlett's administration," the Senator began. "Russell Porter is going to announce next Monday that he will not be seeking re-election in November. The party was very impressed with your suggestions for the budget, and we are prepared to give you our full support if you decide to put your name out there."

"I'm sorry?" Martin furrowed his eyebrows in shock and confusion. He had been planning on trying to break into politics on the local or state level first before trying to break into national politics. Suddenly, his father's cryptic phone message from the night before made sense; his father had referenced 'something big' that he heard was about to happen. "Me?" Martin asked, still slightly stunned at the Senator's frankness.

"You're everything the party is looking for right now: you're young, you have new, fresh ideas, you've done some great pro bono work through the Corporation, and you have the full support of the party and the President if you want it," Senator Adair replied matter-of-factly. "The only drawback in the eyes of the public will be that you're not married, but you have your family and you're young enough that it won't matter."

"I'm... I'm honored," he replied.

Senator Adair smiled. "Think about it. The President is having a dinner at the White House this weekend for some of the Party Leaders, and you are welcome to attend if you want to get a closer look at things."

"I will."

"Excellent," Adair replied, holding out his hand. "Here's my card. Don't hesitate to contact me if you have any questions."

"Thank you," Martin took the card readily and immediately put it in his top jacket pocket so he would not lose it.

Senator Adair gave a quick, subtle nod of his head. "Have a good afternoon, Mr. Fitzgerald," he said, and then he was gone.

Martin sighed heavily as he shut the door behind him and sat back down at his desk. His mind was racing at warp speed as he tried to process what had just happened and hold onto coherent thought.

After almost five minutes of staring blankly at his computer screen, watching the screensaver shift, he pulled out his phone book and began to sort through it. He was going to need to make a phone call to his travel agent.

xx

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sam asked softly as she looked up at him, pulling him from the memory.

He smiled and hugged her closer, thinking how much his life had changed for the better since that day nearly two years ago when he sat all alone in his office in New York. "Shouldn't my thoughts be worth at least a dollar?"

She grinned. "I think you're overestimating the degree to which the rest of us value your thoughts, Mr. Senator," she joked, poking him lightly in the chest.

"Ouch, that was low," he laughed. He kissed her temple lightly and said, "I was just thinking about what a natural you are at these things; if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd been doing this your whole life."

"Hardly," she scoffed, chewing tentatively on her lower lip. "I feel like I have 'Out Of Place' tattooed on my forehead."

He dropped his arm from her waist to link their hands together, entwining their fingers and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Not at all," he shook his head, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. He exhaled and looked deep into her brown eyes, "It's like you were meant to be here."

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