Lauren checked her watch, then looked back up at Jeff. She wasn’t exactly mad at Dev, she decided, more like supremely annoyed. It was 2:45 p.m. “Give the children their message now, please. And you can tell Devlyn to stop by in about,” she grinned and slapped Jeff on the back, “oh, 45 minutes or so. Dinner’s on me.”
* * *
Thursday, January 13, 2022
DEV TOSSED FOR THE thousandth time; sleep, apparently, was not on her agenda for tonight. She rolled over to face Lauren’s side of the bed. It was cold and empty. A little sheepishly, she grabbed the pillow Lauren normally used and tried to connect with her absent partner. But her linens had been freshly changed and all she could detect was the faint scent of the fabric softener, which smelled good certainly, but not like her longed-for companion.
She sat up and then swung her feet over the edge of the bed, pushing them into her slippers as she reached for her robe. Sighing, she padded to the window and gazed out at the moon that hung low and full in the sky. “You’re pitiful, Marlowe.” She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest gently against the cold glass, feeling foolish and lonely. “She’s only been gone for 10 days.” And that meant four more until she’d be home.
Devlyn opened tired eyes and looked out at the gently falling snow. A thick blanket covered the ground, looking clean and pristine, and she smiled, thinking that her kids and Lauren would love to go out and make a snowman.
Dev wondered if she would go insane before the writer returned home from her business trip. She knew that Lauren couldn’t spend all her time in Washington. The younger woman needed to conduct interviews in Ohio and several other states before flying to New York to deal with her publisher. Still, Dev had hated to see her go and had felt a little unsettled since she’d been gone.
To need someone this much was as discomfiting as it was wonderful. Even when she and Samantha were married, the irresistible first Mrs. Marlowe could go on a trip, which she frequently did, and Dev had always managed just fine. Maybe it’s just because I’m older now. I get all sentimental. But somehow Devlyn knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
With Samantha, so much of Dev’s focus was on herself, her career, what she wanted, how she felt, the bright future that Sam and the children would share in. On many levels Dev realized that she’d been much more selfish with Samantha and that Lauren didn’t let her get away with any of that. This time they each had their own ambitions and expectations, and somehow Dev found herself much more comfortable with that. Despite her role as the most powerful person on the planet, she didn’t feel that she eclipsed Lauren. She had met her match and it was a relief.
That didn’t mean, however, that she liked being separated from her.
“Shit,” Dev mumbled, pushing off from the window and returning to the bed. She yanked up her pillow and left her room, wandering down the hall to Lauren’s room in her pajamas. The Secret Service agents at each end of the hall pretended not to notice as a disheveled Dev quietly walked past the portraits of previous presidents and an antique settee.
Trying the knob on Lauren’s apartment, she found it unlocked. No matter how much she’d prodded, Lauren had insisted on keeping her own separate quarters. It had been controversial when Lauren moved into the White House to observe the President for her work on Dev’s biography. Now, however, the press was having a field day over the two women living in the same house — a house owned by the taxpayers — while being engaged. Lauren had insisted on not adding fuel to the fire by officially moving into the Presidential living quarters, though Devlyn suspected that Lauren’s motives for wanting her own space were far simpler than that. Life with a boisterous family, for someone who was generally a quiet, independent person, was still a lot to take; even after a year at the White House, Lauren needed her privacy.
Devlyn stepped inside the large room. It was mostly dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bluish light streaming through the window. She took a deep, comforting breath. The room held traces of Lauren’s perfume. Her gaze flicked under the bed. She waited to hear a familiar growl before she remembered that Gremlin and his lady love, Princess, a prize Pomeranian that Devlyn inherited from her mother when the show dog was knocked up by the randy Gremlin, were sleeping with the children while Lauren was away.
Dev ambled across the floor and pushed off her slippers as she crawled into bed, snuggling up to Lauren’s pillow and tossing her own to the side. “Yup. Pitiful,” she murmured, letting the familiar scents wash over her. “Ahhh… Much better.” She closed her eyes to give her exhausted brain some much-needed rest.
It was bad enough that Lauren was out of town and Dev felt like a spoiled child denied her favorite toy, but the State of the Union address was only a few days away, and the President was, as her father would say, “As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Because there was no way to deliver a realistic address only a few weeks after taking office, she had dispensed with the State of the Union address in her inaugural year, as many presidents before her had done.
But this year the address was not only expected, it had been in the planning stages since late November. In just a few days she would take that walk into the Capitol, where both houses and the nation would wait to hear what she had to say. She almost wished that President Wilson hadn’t revived the practice of the president actually delivering the speech and that she could use Thomas Jefferson’s method of having clerks read it to both houses independently. Then she wished she had back the time that she had wasted learning tidbits of information that were better suited for Trivial Pursuit than real life. A wry smile curled her lips. At least I usually win.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this sort of thing before. Every year she had delivered the State of the State address to the citizens of Ohio. But as Governor she wasn’t standing before the entire world when she spoke. And she’d never, ever, had a year like she’d just had.
There had been a bombing of civilian targets by a violent anti-government militia. Dev’s move to quash the group had been bold and decisive, but not without loss of life. And, in her mind at least, it had not been one of her shining moments.
There had been an assassination attempt that had very nearly claimed her life and was still the source of sporadic nightmares and physical pain. If it weren’t for the support of her closest friend and political ally, her chief of staff David McMillian, and Lauren, Dev wasn’t sure she would have made it through the months of rehabilitation, both mental and physical.
Then there was the on-again-off-again turmoil that surrounded Lauren’s presence in her life. Her own party had nearly deserted her when her business relationship with Lauren had deepened and turned decidedly romantic. Lauren, however, wasn’t ready to quit as Dev’s biographer and Starlight Publishing had saved the day by buying out the party’s contract for Lauren’s services. Now, she was trying to juggle a new relationship and three children, while running a nation. God, no wonder I’m tired.
Dev’s first year in office had been a roller coaster, and there were days when she felt like she was going to be thrown from her seat. President Truman had said, “Being president is like riding a tiger,” and Dev couldn’t agree more. She made sure to count her fingers every night to see that none had been bitten off.
It was no wonder that the dream started the way it did…
Dev was in her office pouring over the speech she was about to give. David was pacing nervously around her office, while various aides made sure she knew exactly what points needed to be stressed and which should be glossed over.
“Would you sit down?” Dev growled in David’s direction. “You’re making me a nervous wreck.”
The tall, red-haired man grumbled and took a seat. He began chewing at his thick mustache in a way that Devlyn usually found endearing. At the moment, however, it was just plain annoying. When Dev looked closer, she realized he was also wearing a feather boa and a ridiculous hat. “I don’t care if they are in style, David. Get rid of
it; you look hideous.”
The scene shifted; suddenly she was standing in the Capitol, outside the massive doors, waiting for the Sergeant at Arms to make the formal announcement of her arrival. Dev twitched at her skirt, wishing she’d selected a pair of trousers instead. As she stared at the doors, a small panel slid open and a very mischievous set of green eyes stared at her before asking, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“What?” Dev felt the panic rising in her chest.
The voice was impatient. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“Umm…” Dev stood dumbstruck, trying to figure out how to answer this question. “Depends on what day it is and if I’m PMSing,” she finally said, taking a step forward. She was late; she didn’t have time for this nonsense. “Now, let me in.”
“Bad witch,” the voice squeaked as the panel slammed shut and the eyes disappeared.
Dev looked around the hallway where she was waiting; it was empty, except for small wind-up monkeys, which skittered around the polished marble floor as they played their cymbals and drums. She tried to shake the vision, but they only got bigger as they came at her. Just as she felt she was about to be attacked by the mechanical monsters, the doors flew open and she stumbled into a room full of laughing people. People laughing at her.
“Aw, shit,” she muttered as she fought to maintain her balance. “This is my worst nightmare.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that indeed this was a nightmare, and she watched with fascination as face after face in her dream shifted and changed, morphing into an entirely new person each time. They were all there — everyone who had ever meant anything to her. Her parents, her children, Lauren, her staff, everyone. Very soon they all became a blur and the room felt like it was spinning out of control. Colors flashed as the spinning got worse and voices blurred into a single white noise that nearly drove Dev to her knees.
Suddenly, the spinning stopped and there was but a single, hauntingly familiar voice. “Dev?”
The tall woman spun around to find Samantha standing a few feet away wearing a beautiful, flowing gown made of white silk. She was an angel, and the sight of her brought tears to Dev’s eyes.
Her throat felt dry and her tongue heavy. “Samantha?” She took a hesitant step forward.
“Why, Dev?” Samantha’s eyes held the bewilderment of a child, but her warm voice was all woman.
“Why what?” Dev tried to step closer to the radiant vision of her deceased wife, but her feet felt as though they were encased in cement.
”Why are you leaving me?”
A sudden stabbing pain in Dev’s chest made it hard to breathe. “I’m not leaving you. I love you.”
“Then why are you marrying her?” Samantha pointed and Dev looked over her own shoulder to find Lauren standing behind her.
Lauren was wearing a pair of faded jeans, no shoes or socks, and a soft white cotton shirt. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was slightly mussed from running her fingers through it, and she had a pencil tucked above her ear — the way she did when she was working. She smiled gently at Dev, the action creasing the skin around her eyes and making Dev’s heart feel as though it might burst.
“Dev?” Samantha’s smooth voice prodded.
“I- I- I…” Dev sputtered and shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn’t know what to say. She told herself this was just a dream, then watched with a slightly open mouth as Samantha floated over to Lauren and hovered next to her. The two loves of her life stood very close to each other, but not touching. Dev looked for it, but couldn’t see any animosity between them.
“It’s all right, Devlyn,” Lauren drawled gently. Her eyes shone with understanding and love. “No matter what, you can tell us the truth.”
Dev nodded and shifted her attention to Samantha. “No matter how much I love you… loved you… you’re gone, Sam.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I’m marrying Lauren because I need to get on with my life and because I love her. She’s my future.”
The words were still hanging in the air when Lauren vanished into thin air and Samantha began to morph into Louis Henry, the teenage boy who had tried to assassinate her. Dev watched in horror as he raised his gun and pointed it at her head. Her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to move, but her feet were still rooted firmly to the ground. The sounds of gunshots exploded in her head, so loudly they hurt. Her hand flew to her ears, and then the scene changed again.
Dev was now standing before the joint session of Congress. The expectant, somewhat impatient look on everyone’s face made it clear she had been saying something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. She glanced around the huge gallery and felt a cold sweat across her upper lip. Her pulse began to thump wildly in her ears as the moment stretched on endlessly. Finally, in a near panic, she shouted, “I quit!”
Dev shot up in bed. She was twisted in the sweaty covers and breathing hard. She knew instantly that she’d been dreaming. “Jesus Christ on a crutch.” After a moment of carefully sorting through the mental jumble, she was able to sigh in relief and even smile a little ruefully. “I’m cracking up.”
She started to settle back into Lauren’s bed when she realized she wasn’t alone. Glancing behind her, she found that Aaron had found his way there, too. She smiled and lay back next to her son, who curled up against his mother without ever waking. Guess I’m not the only one missing Lauren.
It was close to 4 a.m. when Lauren opened the door to her room, carrying her computer case and a small travel bag. Closing the door behind her, she was just about to flip on the light when she saw several lumps in her bed. She nearly screamed, but one lump in particular looked familiar. Setting down her luggage, she carefully crossed the room.
Devlyn, Christopher, and Aaron were practically lying in a pile on her bed, with Dev on the bottom. Ashley was resting crossways along the headboard with one leg on Christopher’s head and her arm on Aaron’s head. The 8-year-old was in her pink footie-pajamas and snoring nearly as loudly as Devlyn.
The Marlowes’ sleeping arrangements reminded Lauren of the puglies, Gremlin’s half-pugs, all of them such ugly puppies that Dev had cleverly given them away as “gifts” to her ex-friends and staff. But instead of a pile of canines, they were a pile of people, their limbs braided together and contorted bodies twisted around each other. Lauren questioned briefly how Chris could breathe with his sister’s leg draped over his face.
A smile worked its way across her face as she took in the scene. She marveled for the millionth time how she had lucked across an entire family who loved her. A little guiltily she realized that it had been two days since she’d called Devlyn, but far longer than that since she’d talked to any of the kids. Before the Marlowe children she’d never given parenthood a second thought. Then, without her knowing quite how, they’d wormed their way into her heart to stay. Only she wasn’t as good at showing that yet as she wanted to be. She would work to change that, she promised herself. They deserved that. No more trips this long, not alone at least. My publisher and everyone else can just go to hell.
Lauren stripped off her coat and clothes, slipping into a pair of thick sweat pants and a well-worn University of Tennessee T-shirt. She yawned and looked longingly at her bed. It was king-sized, but everyone was lying at such odd angles she didn’t see a spot where she could fit in. Suddenly, she caught a glint of light as it reflected off Dev’s eyes. Damn, she’s beautiful, Lauren’s mind whispered, everything else forgotten for a moment.
“You’re home early.” Dev’s voice was rough with sleep.
Lauren walked around to where her lover was lying and pushed back a shock of dark hair to kiss her on the forehead, then she moved down and brushed her lips against Devlyn’s, humming into the sweet but brief contact. “I was missing you guys like crazy,” she whispered. “After the first few days I realized I was a hopeless case so I worked extra long so I could finish early. I didn’t want to say anything in case I couldn’t pull it off.” S
he gazed down fondly at Dev and quietly said, “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay…” Dev replied. She rolled over and pushed Christopher, and before Lauren’s eyes the pile of children shifted dramatically, but no one woke up. Dev opened her arms and Lauren eagerly fitted herself into the space that had been created just for her.
When their bodies touched, both women sighed.
“I’m so happy to be home,” Lauren said quietly, her eyes already closing. “I missed you all.”
“Not me,” Dev answered, feeling Lauren’s lips curl into a smile against the sensitive skin of her neck. “I didn’t miss you at all. Same with the kids. We hardly knew you were gone.”
“I can see that,” Lauren chuckled weakly, Dev’s words barely penetrating her tired brain.
“Welcome home, sweetheart.”
But a warm puff of air and Lauren’s gentle snore were Dev’s only answer.
* * *
Friday, January 14, 2022
DEV SAT BEHIND her desk in the Oval Office while Lauren was perched on one of the room’s two couches. The television news, with the sound so low it could barely be made out, was playing in the background, and the three-dimensional image of an anchorman hovered near the door. They had already had their first two meetings, and now the women were enjoying a quiet breakfast together. Almost. The food had been delivered a half-hour ago and was still sitting untouched on the table while both women worked in their respective spots, Lauren compiling notes on what she’d observed and Devlyn reviewing several documents from the Secretary of Homeland Defense.
The smell of bacon was finally too much for Lauren to ignore. She set down the hand-held computer as she contemplated what she could safely eat considering she’d stopped working out with Devlyn in the mornings several weeks ago. The answer was nothing, so she promptly disregarded that conclusion and thought about something else. “Devlyn, your mother is going to kill us for foisting the wedding plans on her.”
First Lady Page 2
