“Are you happy, Devil?” The answer was painfully obvious, but he felt like it was his fatherly duty to ask every once in a while anyway.
Dev beamed. “You have no idea.”
“Can your old man make one more observation?”
“Could I stop you?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I do have an idea, because when I watch you with Lauren and I see the way you look at her,” he paused, blushing slightly. “It’s the same way I still look at your mother, even after all these years.”
“I’ve got it that bad, huh?” Dev’s eyes twinkled happily.
“You’ve got it in spades.”
“Good.”
Frank winked and gestured toward the green, where David was waiting patiently. “Shall we, Madam President?”
“Sure, I can handle another five holes of humiliation.” Dev leaned up and kissed her father’s cheek. He smelled of Old Spice, and she smiled as the scent so familiar from childhood tickled her nose.
As they walked she looked up to the press following them and waved; the faint sound of cameras clicking made her shake her head. “I’m glad my ability to be President isn’t impaired by my inability to play golf.” She leaned on the club, standing side-by-side with Frank, unintentionally creating a memorable photo op while David swung his club.
* * *
Friday, March 11, 2022
IT WAS WELL after midnight and Lauren had had such a wonderful day of not doing much of anything at all that she was now wide awake and in search of a cup of coffee. After a year of living with a self-proclaimed coffee addict, she found herself craving the tasty brew nearly as much as Devlyn did.
She’d spent five days in the cabin on the Marlowes’ property all alone, enjoying the peace and solitude and trying to work her way back to a healthy state of mind. She didn’t work on Dev’s biography or even on the installment in her Adrienne Nash fiction series that she and Devlyn were supposed to do together, but never seemed to have enough time for. Instead, she wrote bad poetry that caused her to burst out laughing when she read it out loud, read trashy paperback romances, ate popcorn for breakfast, and daydreamed to her heart’s content. It was a much needed respite in a life that had somehow spun out of her control, and she was, at last, able to spend a good long while remembering the good things in her life and being thankful for them.
In her pajamas and a robe, Lauren padded slowly down the stairs of the main house that led into the Marlowe kitchen. The lights were off, but the soft moonlight streaming through the windows allowed her to see where she was going. The wooden floors were cold on her bare feet, and she spared a brief, wistful thought for the pair of toasty sweat socks that she knew she had stashed in the dresser upstairs. The house was large and well appointed by any standards, but held a warmth of character that the White House couldn’t match in her eyes. She was glad that Devlyn had grown up here, where love flowed like a river, filling things up. Things here were so bright and hopeful.
When she closed her eyes and thought of the small, working class house where she grew up in Nashville and where her father still lived, one word came to mind… dark. In every way. Her mother had suffered from migraines and debilitating bouts of depression, and the shades at the Strayer house were always drawn tightly together, blocking out the light. And everything else.
“Oh, Mama,” she sighed. “Please let it be that you finally found the peace you craved.” She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache in her stomach that accompanied thoughts of her mother. Anna Strayer’s suicide had been on her mind a lot lately as she fought with her own seeming inability to get a handle on the media and political frenzy that accompanied her engagement to Devlyn. After spending her entire adult life as a professional observer, she found being under such maddening, intense scrutiny more than she could bear at times.
Lauren fiddled with the coffee maker on the kitchen counter, letting out a small, satisfied grunt when she found that the aromatic grounds were already neatly in place, waiting to be brewed. She pushed the “on” button, her mind still on her mother. “Maybe I need to go to the doctor?”
“Are you not feeling well, dear?”
Lauren whirled around at the unexpected voice, inadvertently startling the speaker as much as herself.
“Oh,” Janet gasped, then smiled in apology. She was wearing a thin, red plaid robe and brown suede slippers. She also didn’t look like she’d been to bed yet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Lauren let out a slow breath, her heart pounding so furiously that she was a little dizzy. “No,” she chuckled a little sheepishly. “It’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I heard footsteps.”
Lauren moved away from the counter, the motion bringing the scent of coffee to Janet. She smiled fondly. “You have been spending too much time with my daughter, I see.” She made a face. “I never could drink the stuff. Too bitter. I prefer tea with milk and sugar, I’m afraid.”
A shy smiled twitched at Lauren’s lips. “Even though she’s turned me into a hopeless addict, my time with Devlyn is well spent.”
Janet grinned broadly. Love was such a beautiful thing it made her want to cry. “I imagine it is.” She wove her arm through Lauren’s and led her to a small breakfast table. “Here.” From the deep front pocket of her robe she pulled out a pair of heavy gray socks. “I thought you might need these. The floors are cold at night.”
Lauren’s face lit up. “Oooo… yes, please. You always seem to know. Are you a witch or something?” Happily, she took the socks and sat down. Tugging them on, she sighed as her toes instantly warmed.
“Depends on who you ask, dear.” Janet sat down across from Lauren. Her blue eyes twinkled and unerringly reminded Lauren very much of a shorter, older, salt-and-peppered hair version of Devlyn. “I have my moments.”
Lauren reached across the small table and took her hand, absorbing the warmth and strength of Janet’s grasp. She briefly focused her attention on Janet’s hands, thinking that, despite the fact that Janet Marlowe was a very attractive woman, it was true what people said. The face might lie, but the hands always reveal a woman’s real age.
The older woman’s gaze softened. She remembered looking at her own mother and grandmother’s hands with just the same expression. God, where have the years gone? “How was the cabin?”
“Mmm…” Lauren looked up from their linked hands. “Good, I think,” she said a little hesitantly. “I’m… I’m not sure what Devlyn told you.”
Janet’s eyebrows lifted. “She told me that you needed a place to relax.”
Lauren swallowed, ashamed. “That’s all?”
Janet sighed. “That’s all, honey. Although I did have an interesting talk with Sarah Turner, who called me last week and told me that she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding.”
Janet’s expression turned slightly sour and Lauren wondered why. She didn’t have to wonder long. “That girl has always been a handful, and it hasn’t helped that Devlyn is such a babe in the woods.”
Lauren snorted. “Babe in the woods? The woman who I’ve personally seen stare down the most powerful men and women in the world and either win them over or scare the crap out of them, depending on what she was trying to do? That woman?”
“That would be the one.” Janet patted Lauren’s hand and stood, making her way back to the coffeepot. “Surely you know that you’re far more experienced in matters of the heart than Devlyn,” she chided gently. “Dev married her first love with nothing more than a few random dates under her belt for experience.” She pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and set a kettle of water to boil, spooning some sugar into her mug and reaching into the refrigerator for the milk. The bright refrigerator light illuminated her profile, causing the silver streaks in her hair to nearly glow.
“I was…” Lauren shrugged. “I was a little surprised when she told me she didn’t have much experience.” An understatement and she knew it. “Bu
t she was with Samantha for years.” And it’s not like I’ve ever had a successful relationship for nearly that long.
“Yes,” Janet allowed, “she was. But she learned how to handle Samantha in that time. And that’s about all. When it comes to other women, including you… well, as I said, she’s a babe in the woods. When it comes to politics, she’s as savvy as a fox. When it comes to love…”
“She believes that everyone else is as honest and straightforward as she is.”
Janet nodded. “Exactly. Which is why Sarah threw her for such a loop.”
Lauren glanced up, surprised.
“Sarah told me what happened,” Janet confirmed, pouring a splash of milk into her cup and then putting the milk back into the fridge.
“I… Janet.” Lauren tugged on her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, gathering her courage. “After seeing Sarah and Devlyn… It was hard for me to believe nothing was going on,” she admitted, chagrined. “I should have trusted her more.”
“Mmm…” Janet was noncommittal. “I don’t know. You’re being pretty hard on yourself. Only a fool doesn’t look before she leaps.”
“But I already leaped when I proposed to Devlyn. Isn’t it a little late to be looking now?”
“Isn’t it a little late for Devlyn to be being kissed by other women?” Janet answered reasonably, pulling a bag of lemon herbal tea from a box and placing it into her cup. She poured the steaming water over it, mingling the scent of citrus with the aroma of coffee.
“You both made it through this, Lauren.” She turned to face the blonde woman. “And in the end that’s what counts. Not the arguments or compromises that happened along the way.” She laughed softly, the melodic sound making her seem much younger. “I can’t tell you how many times Frank and I have wrestled through things over the years. But we’re still together and still in love.”
Lauren shifted in her chair and regarded Janet curiously as she filled both their mugs. “You and Dr. Marlowe,” she backtracked at Janet’s stern look, “you and Frank are very different people.” She imagined there were many times when the mild Frank and fiery Janet clashed.
“Like you and Devlyn,” Janet pointed out, retaking her seat at the table and passing over Lauren’s steaming mug.
Lauren smiled her thanks. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other’s company and the fragrant liquids that slid down their throats and warmed their bellies. A gust of wind rattled the kitchen window and both women turned towards the sound.
Janet gently cleared her throat, treading very carefully into unknown waters. “You mentioned a doctor before. Are you ill?”
Lauren wasn’t expecting that, thinking that she’d successfully dodged that bullet earlier. Before she could stop them, tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Oh, honey.” Janet leaned forward a little, searching Lauren’s down-turned face. “What is it?”
Lauren swallowed a few times before speaking. “I haven’t been handling stress very well lately.” There. Starting was always the hard part. “I’ve been getting frustrated or upset far more than I should and… and it’s made me think of Mama.”
Janet was still terribly at sea, but sensed this was something very important to the younger woman. “Devlyn explained that your mother passed away last year. I was truly sorry to hear that.”
Lauren nodded mutely.
“There are still times that I miss my mother.” Janet lifted her tea bag and watched it drain into her mug before dunking it again. “When something good or bad happens, I still find myself anxious to tell her, and it’s been nearly 10 years since she died.”
Pale brows furrowed deeply as Lauren thought. “That hasn’t happened to me once, I’m ashamed to say. We,” she sighed, “we didn’t have a very good relationship. We never did really.” How could she capture a lifetime of disappointment and hurt in a few words? A contemplative look crossed her face. “She loved me the best she knew how, but she was always so remote, just out of reach, I don’t feel like I ever knew her at all.”
Suddenly, Janet’s choice of words replayed themselves in her mind. Passed away… “Janet, didn’t Devlyn tell you what happened with my mother?”
“Well…” she paused as she thought back. “She said that your mother had been ill and had passed away. Other than that—”
“She hung herself,” Lauren said softly. There was a resigned, flat quality to her voice that caused a shiver to race down Janet’s spine.
“Oh, God.” For a moment Janet was shocked into silence as the unexpected words soaked in. “I’m so sorry. You and your poor father,” she uttered quietly. “How horrible.” Then her eyes widened briefly, but she firmly clamped down on herself, not wanting her reaction to cause Lauren to withdraw. Oh, no. “You haven’t been thinking of—”
“No,” Lauren interrupted instantly, still managing to read Janet’s alarm. “I would never do anything like that. I haven’t even considered it. I swear.”
Janet let out a shaky breath. “Thank goodness.” She slumped back in her chair. “You had me concerned there for a moment.” She set down her cup and took Lauren’s hand again. “Then what’s this about doctors and things reminding you of your mother?”
A pained look crossed Lauren’s face. “Mama couldn’t handle stress. Obviously. She never could, even when I was a child. If I caught a cold or twisted an ankle, she’d look at me with such a helpless expression that it would break my heart. Even when intellectually she knew what to do, emotionally she couldn’t handle it. She would just go into her bedroom, lock the door, and stay there.” Sometimes for days. Lauren drew in a breath, memories clouding normally bright eyes. “I would hear her crying and Daddy would insist that I leave her be, that she was dealing with things in her own way.”
Janet’s heart ached for Lauren, and she felt a wave of anger for the child who had to grow up under such impossible circumstances and the woman who would always carry the scars.
“But she wasn’t dealing with anything,” Lauren continued bravely. It was easier to talk to Janet than she thought it would be. On some level, easier than Devlyn, who sometimes couldn’t repress her own anger and outrage over Lauren’s long-dead past. In those situations Lauren found herself wanting to comfort Devlyn more than to continue their conversation. She hadn’t consciously planned it, Lauren admitted to herself, but she and Janet had some time alone together now and she needed to talk. Especially after the solitude of the cabin had allowed her to put some things into perspective.
“Mama was hiding from the world.” Lauren braced herself for the hardest part. “And lately… umm… I’ve been wanting to do the same thing.” She glanced at Janet’s face, worried, half-expecting to see pity or disgust, but finding only empathy and love. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I see,” Janet said slowly. She thought for a moment before saying anything else, but when she did speak, it was with a quiet certainty. “Did your maternal grandmother or father commit suicide as well?”
Lauren blinked. “I… uh… No.” She shook her head. “Grandma had a heart attack when I was four and Grandpa was killed in Vietnam.”
Janet absorbed that information. “Was your mother hounded day and night by reporters?”
Lauren’s eyes widened a touch. “Of course not.”
“And was her every move regulated, scheduled, and guarded with men and women with guns?”
Lauren shook her head, a tiny smile twitching at her lips. It was impossibly easy to love Janet. “No. But—”
“And in the span of less than a year did she go from being someone who could walk down the street in peace to someone whose face was plastered on half the magazines at the newsstand?”
Lauren’s eyes softened as she looked at Janet. Devlyn’s mother would champion her, just as the younger Marlowe would. “No.” She gave Janet a watery smile full of affection. “I guess she didn’t.”
“And I’m assuming she didn’t have three rambunctious chi
ldren pop into her life all at once, needing from her every bit of the love and attention they could get from a second parent. Or…” Janet gave her a curious look, “and forgive me if I’m out of line here, but I do know that you were married to a man and then divorced. Is Devlyn the first woman you’ve had a relationship with?”
Mutely, Lauren nodded, squirming a little in her chair. “First and last, I hope.”
Janet smiled sagely. “And was this a revelation for you last year? Your interest in women?” she inquired gently.
“Not completely new, no.” Lauren fiddled with her mug, feeling her face heat and hoping this wasn’t going to lead to a discussion about sex. “But it wasn’t something I let myself think about much either. And certainly nothing I’d ever acted on.”
“Mmm… Hmm…” Janet tapped the tabletop with her index finger. “So on top of everything else, last year you acknowledged another facet of your sexual orientation for the first time when you fell in love my daughter?”
Lauren’s mouth worked for a few seconds, but no sound came out. She watched as Janet lifted her chin in silent triumph. “I guess I did. God, it’s a wonder I’m not in the booby hatch, isn’t it?” she muttered in awe. Had all that happened in only a year?
Janet chuckled. “Basically.” Then her expression grew more serious. “Please don’t think that I don’t believe your mother had real problems, dear. It’s clear that she must have been fighting horrible demons. But I don’t think, because there are times you need to regroup or you want to push the world away for a while, that you’re anything but normal and healthy.” Her voice strengthened. “You’ve earned the right to pull back and take a deep breath when you need to.” She stared directly into Lauren’s eyes. “Don’t deny yourself, honey, or think you’re crazy for needing it.” She patted Lauren’s hand before releasing it. “Had I been in your shoes, I would have snapped weeks ago. And outright killed that annoying man, Michael Oaks.”
A small laugh forced its way from Lauren’s throat. “No, you wouldn’t,” she told her with a raised eyebrow.
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