Angel in Disguise

by Patt Marr

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re Sam’s boy.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s a long road to the White House. If Sam hadn’t been waylaid by the morality crowd, he’d have made it himself. I need a wife who knows the ropes. Sunny’s perfect.”

  Margo handed him a tissue. “If you want to be perfect yourself, you might want to wipe my lipstick off your mouth.”

  He grinned, complying. “How’s that?”

  “Lovely. Let’s see what Eleanor’s serving. I’m starving.”

  “You leave first. I’m going to mingle a while.”

  Bruce watched her meander toward a group sipping cold drinks under a white tent that shaded them from the hot California sun. In the gazebo a small band played the easy-listening music Eleanor Keegan preferred at these affairs.

  Two young women wearing oversize Easter bonnets organized an egg roll contest for the kids of a hundred or so financial supporters and political operatives who chatted around the pool and garden. No one was eating yet, but under shady trees were tables laid with pink linen, silver and baskets of flowers.

  One of Sam’s aides approached the band and whispered something in the keyboard player’s ear, probably an order to play the senator’s theme song, for the band broke into it, and Sam emerged from the house, Eleanor on one arm, Sunny on the other.

  They were a handsome family, waving at their guests, accepting applause. Eleanor’s sleek blond coiffure and pink designer outfit suited her petite stature, but she paled beside the senator and Sunny. So alike no one would question their relationship, the pair had the same vivid coloring, slim build and magnetic smile. From here the senator looked the picture of health, and Sunny, in her yellow suit, was a bright beacon.

  She seemed different than she’d been a year ago, more confident and sure of herself. She’d be an asset to his career, all right. He couldn’t afford to mess this up today.

  Sam and his advisers had planned this day as carefully as any campaign event. All he had to do was lay low, allowing Sunny time to get comfortable with the guests, most of whom she hadn’t seen since the wedding. After she filled her plate, he would stroll up and give her a friendly peck on the cheek.

  If that went well, they’d share a table with her parents, chat about her work at school and segue into how much they all missed her. When he got her alone, he’d grovel and promise anything to get her back.

  If that didn’t work, they would go to Plan B. He sincerely hoped they wouldn’t need “B,” but bottom line, a man did what a man had to do. At least it would give them a photo.

  To Sunny, it was déjà vu from the moment they gathered in the drawing room to this ridiculous parody of a royal family greeting their subjects. She stood by her parents, waving to people she thought she’d never see again. The past year might never have happened. She’d vowed she wouldn’t get caught up in politics again, but if she were to have a relationship with her parents, this was the price.

  At least she’d gotten them to church today. Mother hadn’t been real happy about her wearing Grandmother’s pearl-and-diamond pin with a casually styled suit, even it if it was silk, but everything else seemed to go well.

  She hadn’t been able to tell if her parents enjoyed the service or not. Daddy could beam at a crowd and mutter, “Parasites,” under his breath. Mother could rapture over a two-piece harmonica band as if it were the philharmonic. With them, you never really knew.

  Greeting guests, shaking hands, exchanging hugs, Sunny was amazed at how easily the routine came back to her. She’d dreaded this, but either the Lord had smoothed the way or she’d underestimated the compassion of her parents’ friends.

  Mother was astonishingly gracious, and Daddy looked as if he would bust his buttons, bragging on how she’d coached her team to the regional championship. Too bad he’d missed every game.

  Once she had taken all this for granted, but since tacos with the team had been her social highlight, she noticed the extravagant elegance. On the buffet table, an ice-sculptured bunny appeared to dance on fresh flowers. She leaned toward her mother and said, “I love the bunny, Mother. Top hat and all.”

  “Isn’t he adorable. It’s Fernando’s work, of course.”

  Fernando? She wasn’t in the loop anymore, but maybe next year, for the basketball banquet, Fernando could sculpt a girl doing a lay-up. That would knock ’em out in the school cafeteria.

  Passing the dessert table, she noticed Cook had outdone herself as usual. Caterers prepared everything else, but nobody did sweets like Cook, and her mother left those to her.

  There was pastry-covered brie topped with apricots and walnuts, caramel-almond crepes, berry and lemon tarts, meringue baskets filled with fruit, bunny-shaped sugar cookies and her favorite, a Royale Chambord chocolate-raspberry cake.

  She smiled, knowing Cook had made it for her. The kitchen would be off-limits right now, but later there would be time for hugs and catching up with those who’d lovingly raised her.

  Returning to her mother, she said, “Cook’s goodies look out of this world. I want some of everything.”

  Her mother laughed gaily and gave her a hug.

  Eleanor Keegan had never been a happy, hugging mother. Vicious quips and negative critique were more the norm. The way Eleanor was today, her girls would say aliens had stashed the real mom in a body pod. She’d say her mother may have found the Lord. That would be the most glorious thing.

  “I’m filling plates for your father and me. Why don’t you choose some food so we can sit down together?”

  Sunny couldn’t remember when her parents had eaten with her at one of these things, but it would be lovely, and she was suddenly starved. From the bountiful selection, she helped herself to several jumbo shrimp and a tender slice of beef brisket, passing a rack of lamb and a huge Virginia ham with their sauces.

  “Make sure you have some of the lobster salad,” her mother insisted. “That’s new this year. And I had the caterers make the hot fruit compote especially for you.”

  Sunny was overwhelmed. Her mother had made an effort to please her. She didn’t especially care for hot fruit compote, but she spooned a little onto her plate along with some of the orange-glazed carrots, a few asparagus spears and one of the tiny French-fried potato baskets filled with baby peas.

  “Tell your father to stop socializing long enough to eat,” her mother said, momentarily stopped by one of the caterers.

  Sunny smiled. It felt good, being part of the family.

  Thank You, Father, for all of this. You promised You’d never give me anything too hard to bear. You said that morning comes after night, and You’ve brought me this far. I have confidence that You’ll help me, no matter where the path leads.

  It was a little tricky, carrying her plate, walking down uneven flagstone steps in her high-heeled pumps and looking across the crowd for her father. She had just spotted him when she lost her footing and lurched forward awkwardly.

  “Careful.” A hand steadied her.

  Bruce. She dropped her plate, and the sound of shattering china made everyone look.

  Bruce took her in his arms as if he had the right. “Don’t worry about the plate, babe. We’ll get you another one.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She pushed him away, breathing hard, embarrassed and angry. “And don’t call me babe.”

  Her father stepped in, shielding them from curious eyes.

  “What’s the problem?”

  She wheeled on him. “Daddy, I asked you. I asked you twice if Bruce was going to be here. You knew I didn’t want him here.”

  “He doesn’t have to be,” her father said calmly, soothingly.

  “No, I don’t,” Bruce agreed almost frantically, “not if it’s going to upset you. In fact, I’m gone. See, I’m leaving.”

  As good as his word, Bruce vanished into the thick landscape of trees and shrubbery.

  “I’ve got to sit down,” she murmured, realizing her legs were very shaky.

  Silently her father led her to a
wrought-iron bench in the shelter of a tree where she used to play.

  “I can’t do this, Daddy. I can’t go back to the way things were. I’m not that stupid anymore.”

  “You’re getting yourself all upset for nothing. Bruce just wants to be friends.”

  “What happened?” Her mother hurried toward them.

  “Sunny’s had a little nervous spell. She just saw Bruce.”

  “Bruce? Where is he?”

  “He apologized when he saw she was upset and left.”

  Her mother stared at her with contempt, her eyes so icy blue, Sunny felt the chill. Again, it was déjà vu. She was afraid because her mom was really mad. But she wasn’t a child anymore.

  “He left? A guest of ours had to leave because our daughter couldn’t stand the sight of him?”

  “Bruce isn’t a regular guest,” Sunny argued, fighting for equal ground. She would not let her mother beat her down.

  “Doesn’t that church of yours teach you anything about forgiveness?” Disgust contorted her mother’s delicate features. “Why can’t you let bygones be bygones? It’s Easter, for goodness’ sake! Surely you could manage to be civil today.”

  Guilt, layers of it, piled on Sunny’s head, and she felt ashamed. Bruce had done a terrible thing to her, betraying her on their wedding day. The way her parents had supported him, and not her, was also bad. But was she any better if she couldn’t lay her bitterness aside?

  The Lord had His way of dealing with people. Bruce was God’s responsibility, not hers. God gave people second chances, even more if they needed them. As His child, she should, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her head bowed. “I can do better.”

  “Sure you can, Sunshine.” Her father squeezed her arm.

  “I’ll find Bruce and apologize.” In her prayers, she’d told the Lord she had forgiven Bruce. If she meant it, she ought to tell Bruce, as well. “I’ll never go back to him, Daddy, but I do want to love him in Jesus’ name.”

  “Let’s not worry about Bruce,” her father said, patting her hand. “We’ll get some food, sit down, relax and enjoy the day.”

  He led her back to the buffet, and her mother followed, greeting people along the way as affably as if nothing unpleasant had happened. Sunny hoped her apology had placated her mother, but it wasn’t likely. Her mother could hold a grievance forever.

  The three of them sat down at one of the quartet tables, her father collapsing as if he were unusually tired.

  “Try to eat something, Sam,” her mother said, looking at him anxiously, though she only picked at her own food. “Oh, it’s no use,” she said, putting her fork down. “I’m so upset, I can’t eat a bite.”

  “Let it go, Eleanor,” her father said.

  “I can’t! Alexandra, after all you’ve put us through, we came to you, prepared to do anything that we might be reunited as a family. But you! You have ruined our last—”

  “Eleanor, that’s enough. I said, let it go,” her father rasped between clenched teeth.

  “Not this time. There is no time! She’s got to grow up now and do the right thing. Oh, my head feels as if it will burst. Alexandra, pu-lease see that your father eats something.” Throwing down her napkin, she left the table.

  Her father’s eyes followed her mother, and his sad expression broke Sunny’s heart.

  “I’m so sorry I ruined our meal, Daddy.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, patting her hand.

  “I always upset Mother, but I want to please her.”

  “You please her, Sunshine.”

  She glanced at him sharply. For a man who could interpret the most subtle international nuance, that was blatant denial. But then, wasn’t that his motto? Deny a thing long enough, and people forgot what was real.

  “Instead of dwelling on the bad things, remember the good, like how much I love you. Never forget that, Sunny.”

  Her father never talked this way. It wasn’t like him at all.

  “I wasn’t there for you much as you were growing up, though every politician sings that tune. But I believe in you, Sunshine, and I want the best for you. Always. Remember that.”

  She nodded, stroking his hand, willing him to see the love in her eyes.

  He looked across the lawn where her mother crouched beside a little boy who was showing her how many eggs he had collected in his basket. “I want you to promise that you’ll always be there for your mother, Sunny. Someday she’s going to need you.”

  It was a strange thing for him to ask, but easy to answer. “I’ll be there for her if she’ll let me, Daddy.”

  “I know your relationship with her has been a bit difficult.”

  More than a bit, she thought, wondering at her father’s introspective mood.

  “But she does many admirable, wonderful things, Sunny.”

  “I know.”

  “I couldn’t have made it in politics without her.”

  She’d heard him say that many times.

  “I didn’t come through for her, though.” He sighed deeply, regret dark in his eyes. “She’d have made a great First Lady.”

  The White House had been her mother’s dream as long as Sunny could remember. It had been ages since they’d talked about it, but she remembered the year her father almost won the nomination. Losing it had been a terrible blow. Away from the hubbub, secreted in their room, not really aware she’d been there, too, her mother had sobbed. Her father watched, grim defeat on his face, grieving more for his wife’s loss than his own.

  “Sunny, no matter what it seemed, my anger at you this past year hasn’t been personal. I wanted your mother to have what she’d always wanted, even if she had to live her dream vicariously through you and Bruce. When you threw it back in our faces…”

  “But, Daddy, I couldn’t marry Bruce!”

  “I know. You thought Bruce betrayed you, and you’re as stubborn as your dad. I told everyone, ‘Give the girl some time. She’ll come around.’ I still believe that, but, Sunshine, we’re running out of time.”

  Her head spun. What was all this talk about running out of time? Would the pressure never end?

  Leaning toward her, his gaze fiercely intense, he said, “If you love me…and I know you do…you’ve got to give Bruce another chance.”

  “Oh, Daddy, there’s no—”

  “Don’t say no,” he interrupted. “Give it some time.”

  But she could tell him right now. There was no way.

  Shrieks from the children drew their attention to the terrace. A man-size Easter bunny wearing a top hat and tails danced merrily across the lawn, playing with one child and then another, making his way to a purple throne. Her mother lined up the children to sit on the Easter bunny’s lap and have their pictures taken with him. As each child stepped down, a shapely young woman in bunny ears, leotard and tights presented the child with a basket of candy and toys.

  One little girl seemed terrified of the bunny. Twice her daddy scooped her up and plunked her on the bunny’s lap, and twice the child bolted, screaming hysterically.

  “C’mon, Sunshine,” her father said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s show that little tyke she has nothing to be afraid of.”

  Still reeling from their emotional conversation, Sunny trotted with her father to the purple throne, feeling more than a little foolish.

  “Look, sugar,” he said to the child, “my little girl’s not afraid of the Easter bunny.”

  Sunny did her best to play along, allowing him to guide her to the bunny’s lap. “Watch out, Easter Bunny,” she said. “I’m a little heavier than the other children.”

  The silent bunny patted his lap and held out his arms, inviting her to have a seat. Gingerly she sat on his, or her, lap, trying to keep the bunny from bearing her full weight. But the bunny pulled her in snugly to his bunny body. He, and it had to be a he, was a very strong bunny, and affectionate, too. He laid his bunny head against her and let the audience know he liked his little girls on the mature side.

/>   Knowing chuckles from the men in the audience made her grit her teeth. “Bunny,” she muttered, “cut it out. Right now!”

  The bunny shook his head vigorously and hugged her with both arms, his paws locked under her chest in a rough caress.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “Don’t hold me like this.”

  He answered with a tighter squeeze.

  Not only was it the wrong answer, it hurt. “I’m not kidding,” she muttered, beginning to struggle. “Stop it.”

  One paw shot up in the air.

  That was better.

  But, holding her just as securely with one arm, he used the free paw to pat her tummy!

  “Ooooh,” murmured the children. Even they recognized a naughty bunny.

  She shoved against his arms, determined to break loose, but the bunny was stronger. She looked to her father for help, but he had his head together with a couple of men, all of them laughing, enjoying the show.

  “Let me go, Bunny!” she cried, pounding on his arms.

  The crowd laughed harder.

  “Alexandra!” her mother called.

  Gratefully Sunny looked for her in the crowd. Her mother wouldn’t put up with this weirdo rabbit.

  Spotting her mother, she felt such relief. For a second. Until she realized her mother’s frown had her name all over it, not the bunny’s.

  “Your skirt!” her mother exclaimed in shocked disapproval.

  The hem of her skirt rode high on her thighs, but what did her mother think she could do about it? She could use a little help.

  The bunny raised one paw.

  Oh, no. Not that again.

  The children screamed, horror in their faces. She whipped her head around.

  With his free paw, the Easter bunny had managed to remove his head. Without his head, he wasn’t the bunny anymore. Breaking character was bad for the children, but worse for her.

  The man’s hair was disheveled and his face flushed, but the smile was as vote-worthy as ever. A camera flashed, catching her in the arms of Sir Skuzz, Congressman Daniels.