The Reluctant First Lady

by Venita Ellick

  Sienna had introduced Ashley to him when they were in high school. Michael went to school with Sienna in Sacramento while Ashley grew up and went to school in Berkeley. He loved to tease Sienna about how she saddled him with an albatross, but she always countered with her own form of warfare. She’d married Michael’s best friend, Jim, so was quick to point out that he’d done his fair share of damage to her life.

  Ashley anticipated that Michael’s special group of advisors would want to talk to her. She wasn’t looking forward to what most likely would be a confrontation, but she wouldn’t back down from it either. She turned her attention to Sienna.

  “Well, the headhunters have come in search of blood and a human sacrifice. I should probably get off the phone. The more time I give them to think, the more deadly they may become.”

  Sienna’s radar zeroed in on Ashley’s voice. She could always tell Ashley’s state of mind by just listening to her voice. It was like a windsock. “Go on; pick up where you left off,” Sienna demanded. “I’ve already been on the phone with half the family. Most of them think you’ve lost your mind.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s true; sometimes I think I’ve lost my mind. I also know some of our relatives probably didn’t even vote for Michael. What’s to say that I haven’t already said a hundred times before? I don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to accept change. I know it’s highly possible that I just started the debate of the century although that wasn’t my intention. I didn’t anticipate speaking to the reporter. I walked out on the stage and just snapped. It all seemed so stupid. I should have given the same stock answer I’ve been giving for months, but I also think this is an issue that’s reached its time.”

  Sienna responded, “Whether it was intentional or not, you’ve just challenged the status quo, and it’s a slap in the face of tradition. There’s no way to predict how the public will respond to your being honest with them. However, if I were you, I’d pack my suitcase, grab your passport, and get out of Dodge.”

  Ashley agreed. “Probably excellent advice. Really, we’re all speculating about how everyone’s going to react, but I’m preparing for the worst. When Michael first entered politics, I told him I wasn’t interested in being a politician’s wife. At the time, we honestly believed we could manage everything—his career, mine, the kids. We thought we could find compromises so we could both continue to do the things we love. Neither of us wanted to stop the other from following our passions. But, God, this is a mess. I can’t believe how naïve I’ve been. Michael has never accepted my decision not to join him in the White House. He never intended for us to work through this situation because he’s been banking on me changing my mind.”

  Sienna cut in. “I don’t envy either of you. The next days, weeks, and months are probably going to be pretty rough. Remember, I’m here if you need a safe place to land. Don’t misunderstand. I do support you and your decision; I always have. But, I’m sympathetic to Michael and what he’ll be dealing with too.”

  Ashley stood up. “I need to run. Thanks for calling. It was good to hear a friendly voice, but I might as well hit this subject head-on with Michael and his team. I’ve been waiting to have this conversation for a long time, so I certainly don’t intend to back down now. Love you. I’ll be in touch.”

  Ashley looked in the mirror. She braced her arms on the top of the dresser and leaned in closer to view her reflection. What was she made of? Sugar and spice? No, not anymore. She was ready to go into battle for her beliefs. She’d never wanted to be a politician’s wife, but her judgment had been faulty. She thought she could have it all. She thought she could balance everything without anyone being neglected or getting hurt. Now the question was what price would she have to pay to stand up for her beliefs?

  In all of the years they’d been married, she’d never stopped loving Michael. She remembered the first time she saw him. He took her breath away, although she would have died before admitting that to anyone, including Sienna. He was tall with golden brown hair and sky blue eyes and the cockiest walk she’d ever seen. He exuded masculinity from every pore of his body, but it was his exceptional intellect and hilarious sense of humor that were the pièce de résistance.

  She’d also learned early in their relationship that Michael didn’t have to say a word to cut her down to size. He had the ability to stop her dead in her tracks with just a look. In the early years of their marriage, she’d been severely wounded by his particular nonverbal form of warfare, but she had learned. While he fought silently, her retaliation in words made him think twice before leveling his deadly looks at her. They were evenly matched, both mindful of the effect they had on one another.

  There had always been only one man for her. But how many times in their marriage had she sacrificed what she wanted in order to keep Michael happy and keep the peace? Sometimes she resented him for the times her love for him had been the impetus causing her to back down from her own goals. Time and maturity had been superior teachers. Now, more often than not, they found a way to compromise so they could both achieve their goals—until now.

  5

  Ashley took a deep breath and walked into the dining room. The conversation stopped as each member of the team began assessing her in a new light. Before now, they’d always found Ashley charming and gracious. Now they viewed her as selfish and the creator of a bitch of a problem. She faced the speechless team ready for all their arguments.

  She sat at the only empty chair at the table and said, “I’m guessing—just a wild guess, mind you—that you’re here to make me see the error of my ways. I suppose the sooner we have this delightful conversation, the sooner we can all go to bed.”

  Ed took her statement as an opening. “Ashley, I don’t know where to begin. You’re throwing an American tradition out the window and into the faces of the very people who voted for your husband.”

  Ashley spoke softly. “I know that’s what you all believe, but it’s not what I believe. I know there’s no precedent for the issue I’m forcing. I believe only fools follow tradition blindly. I’m choosing—emphasis on choosing—not to be the First Lady. I’m not interested in having a role thrust upon me merely because my husband has been elected president.

  “I don’t happen to believe it should be an expectation; it should be a choice. Each woman, or possibly one day a man, should choose what to do, not just have the role thrust upon her because that’s the way it’s always been done. I think the American people, when they hear my story, will possibly identify with me and not be as outraged as you think. It’s not going to affect them personally, and it won’t affect the president’s policies.

  “Wouldn’t a more pertinent discussion be how to present my decision to the public without damaging Michael? Have any of you come up with a plan for defusing the situation?”

  Jack answered. “We have a couple of ideas, but first let me ask you, would you be willing to postpone returning to New York? If you stay put for a while, you might help calm things down.”

  “How long would I need to stay? A month? Six months? A year? No matter how long I stay, when I go back to New York, this whole conversation is going to resurface. I don’t think that’s the solution. Michael, you need to hit this head-on, take control of the story. You’re the only one who has exclusive access to me and what I’m thinking. That’s an advantage. Tell the public you’ll be presenting a plan to compensate for my decision during the transition process. It won’t stop the pundits or the opposition party from coming after you, but it will put you a little more in the driver’s seat.”

  “That’s one solution we discussed before you joined us,” Michael said. “We’re holding a press conference tomorrow morning, and I’d like for you to be there.”

  Everyone in the room was trying to find a place to put their eyes. They hadn’t expected Ashley to be so vehement. When they entered the suite, they thought they were dealing with a wrinkle that needed to be ironed out. It was clear, now, that they needed to create a whole new w
ardrobe.

  Ed cleared his throat. “I think I’ll have that drink. I didn’t realize how badly I was going to need it.”

  Michael knew what they were up against; he had hoped someone else might be able to reason with Ashley. God knows, he hadn’t had any luck. He wished they could agree on a compromise but doubted very much that they would reach one tonight, if ever. All of the diplomatic experience he had wasn’t enough to prepare him for dealing with the likes of his wife.

  Ed asked Ashley, “Do you see the possibility for any sort of compromise?

  “That’s a fair question, and I wish I were brilliant enough to find one. I’ve thought about this until my head feels like it’s going to explode. I’m not interested in giving up my career, and I’m not remotely interested in politics. Plus, personally, I don’t believe the First Lady position is a necessity. I’ve seen highly intelligent, educated, capable women enter the White House to become international hostesses. Important work, but not my work. Michael doesn’t agree with me, but he isn’t the one making the decision.”

  Ashley deliberately made eye contact with each person at the table. “All of you are here to support my husband, to see that he was elected, and you did an amazing job. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked, and I congratulate you on a job well done, but my constituents are the patrons and public who visit the Cameron Museum of Art. It has one of the finest art collections in the world, and I love my job just as much as Michael loves his. So everyone here can quit hoping I’m going to see the error of my ways and change my mind. That’s not going to happen. My advice is to schedule the press conference and let’s get this three-ring circus underway.”

  Jack announced, “I’ll contact the press immediately and schedule a press conference for tomorrow morning at nine. After what they heard tonight, everyone is going to be chomping at the bit to hear what you have to say officially. I also think it would be a good idea to have your son and daughter present to show family solidarity. It’ll give the public and the media a chance to see that you aren’t at odds over the decision within your family.”

  Ashley almost choked out her words. “That’s not true. Of course, we’re at odds over my decision. You know Michael wishes I’d fall in line. And, as for our kids, they have their own opinions.”

  Michael watched his wife lock horns with his communication director. “Look, there’s no point in prolonging this discussion. Ashley and I will be at the press conference tomorrow, but as for the kids, I don’t know. They aren’t children. It’ll be up to them.”

  Ashley added, “I’ll call them and let them know they’re invited, but it’s their decision. I don’t really see how having them there will help. I always hate it when a politician is in trouble, caught having an affair or misappropriating funds, and his handlers haul out the wife and kids to stand there looking as if they support him. It’s a pathetic attempt to try to make everything look normal when nothing is.”

  “Thank you, Ashley,” Ed said. “I appreciate you asking them. Before we go, would you like to walk through what you want to say at the press conference? Or would you prefer to work with one of our speechwriters to prepare a statement you can read?”

  “Neither, thank you. I don’t want what I have to say to feel rehearsed. I’d rather speak from my heart.”

  “I understand, but I don’t think you realize how aggressive the press can be.”

  “There you go again, Ed, underestimating me. I didn’t just come off the farm, or have you forgotten I deal with the press all the time at the museum? Granted, it’s usually not over something so controversial, and the press has never been hostile to me, but I can handle it. Plus, isn’t it Jack’s job to control the press conference if things start to get out of control? I’ll say what I have to say, and if I think a question is inflammatory or stupid, I’ll refuse to answer it. I look at this press conference as a good thing. I realize none of you feels the same way, but for me, it’s long overdue.”

  Jack stood up. “If there’s nothing else to discuss, I need to get started notifying the media to set up tomorrow morning’s press conference.”

  Michael nodded. “I think we’ve all had enough for one day. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  As the leadership team left the suite, they were as congenial as ever to Michael but avoided making eye contact with Ashley. She was amused by this rather than annoyed and not surprised at all. It was so typical of politicians. You were either with them or against them. There never seemed to be any middle ground.

  Ashley hoped Michael wouldn’t continue the conversation they had been having prior to the team’s arrival. There was no point. She needed a distraction.

  “I’ll call the kids and tell them about the press conference. Do you want to talk to them?”

  “Only if they want to talk to me.”

  Ashley called Jeremy on her cell. “Hi, kiddo, it’s me. How are you?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Mom. I’m pretty depressed. I haven’t come up with a foolproof way to break you out of jail—yet. I’d like to be prepared for any possibility. It’d be nice to have a plan in place.”

  Ignoring her son’s outrageous sense of humor, Ashley asked, “And, your sister? How’s she doing?”

  “Ah, you know Juliette. She’s a major drama queen. She’s already got you and Dad divorced over this. What’s up?”

  “First, Dad and I would love to have breakfast with the two of you tomorrow. It would be nice to have a little family time. How about meeting us here at seven?”

  “Sure, I’ll tell Juliette. I know she’s anxious to talk to you both.”

  “Good. Second, a press conference is being scheduled for nine in the morning. I’m finally going to get a chance to speak specifically about my position on the whole First Lady thing. Ed and Jack asked that you and your sister be there. Your dad and I told them the decision was yours. What do you think?”

  “Yeah. I’m in, but you’ll have to talk to Juliette. Hold on.” Ashley could hear the mouthpiece of the phone being smothered by Jeremy’s hand. He was only off for a moment. “Juliette says she’s in too. How’s Dad doing?”

  “Here, you can talk to him yourself.”

  Ashley handed the phone to Michael.

  “I’m here, Jeremy.”

  “Hi, Dad. How you holdin’ up?”

  “About as good as can be expected after taking a nosedive from total elation after winning the election to your mother’s answering the reporter’s question. It was a huge emotional shift by anyone’s standards.”

  “Dad, I’m really proud of you. You’ll be a great president. The only thing Juliette and I are worried about is how all this is going to affect you and Mom.”

  “Try not to worry about your mom and me. Somehow, it’ll all work out. Listen, Jeremy, I’m about to drop where I’m standing. Let’s continue our conversation at breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Sure, Dad. Goodnight.”

  Once Michael was off the phone, he turned to look at Ashley. She was removing her jewelry as she headed toward the bedroom. She was unaware that he was watching her. As she moved around the bedroom undressing and hanging up her clothes, he marveled at the desire she could still evoke in him.

  Michael and Ashley prepared for bed in silence, deep in their own thoughts and unaware they had begun to distance themselves from one another. So much was at stake, far more than they’d ever believed possible.

  Ashley sat down in a chair next to the window. She parted the curtains and looked outside at the darkness beyond. All she could see was her own reflection superimposed over the inky gloominess. It was a perfect visual analogy for her despairing mood.

  Breaking the numbing silence, Ashley said, “Examining just the facts, the future does look dismal. I’ve never wanted to hold you back from anything you wanted to do. Likewise, I don’t want to be pressured into doing something I’d despise. You’ve always known I dislike politics. I hate the microscopic lens directed toward politicians and their families. I simply cannot, wi
ll not, live under a microscope. I don’t want people debating what I say or do or wear. People need to accept there’s a difference between their right to know about their elected officials and the privacy of the elected official’s family.”

  “You just don’t get it,” Michael argued. “I’ve just been elected president. No matter what you do, your actions, what you say, and yes, even what you wear, are going to be scrutinized, dissected, and discussed. Rejecting the official title isn’t going to change that.”

  “I won’t be a puppet on a string for you or the country. Granted, there will be a huge focus on my actions for a while, but I think as time passes, the interest in me will begin to wane and the media will move on to juicier and more relevant issues.

  “I hope you know that if I did go along with you, it would kill me. My body would keep moving and I’d still smile and respond, but I’d be dead inside. I’d be like a Stepford First Lady.”

  Michael let the silence hang in the air. It didn’t seem to matter what he said; he and Ashley didn’t want the same thing. He sighed. “Your decision has the potential to cripple me in being able to effect real and positive change. Plus, you’ve just given the opposition a weapon to use against us. Isn’t any kind of compromise possible?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Being the director of the Cameron Museum of Art is as important to me as becoming president is to you. It’s a huge responsibility, and I love every minute of it. I don’t want to leave my work. We each have jobs we love—granted yours is a whopper—but at the end of the day, I’d still like us to find a way to remain a family.”

  Michael wanted that too, but for the time being, they were talked out. What else was there left to say?

  6

  Ashley was being pursued by a dozen men on horseback. She could hear the horses’ hooves pounding on the solid, bone-dry earth, an indication they were getting closer. If they found her . . . She could hear the church bells beckoning from a distance. She ran toward the sound, hoping to make it to the unseen sanctuary before being captured. She didn’t want to die.