Chessa tried to step past him to go upstairs and escape any more verbal abuse. She had noticed out of the corner of her eye the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the living room end table.
Her husband grabbed her by the arm to stop her, pressing his fingers into her flesh. She tried to pull her arm away, but he held tighter.
“Darren, stop, please. You’re hurting me.”
“I’m not done with you yet.” He gripped firmer. She couldn’t help it. She slapped him in the face with her free hand.
Chessa heard the blow to her own cheek before she felt it, like a resounding crack. Darren let her go, watching her stumble backward. She stared at him, rubbing her jaw in disbelief.
He only sneered at her. “You hit me first. People always say, ‘never hit a girl,’ but my mother always said, ‘if she hits you first, then she deserves it’.”
Tears of pain—emotional more than physical—welled up in Chessa’s eyes.
“Oh, now you’re going to cry,” Darren said, making fun of her. “That figures. Well, you’re hurting me and my candidacy. I better never hear that you go to another Al-Anon meeting again.” He picked up his cell phone. “And I’m calling Bob to tell him to warn that stupid wife of his not to meddle in our affairs.”
CHAPTER 6
Leif
President Martin Greene sat alone in the Pressroom of the White House watching various news stations on the monitors before him.
It was seven a.m. and all of the stations were covering the state elections from the day before. The top story involved Leif Mitchell’s brother Will winning the election for Governor of Maryland and recounting Leif’s own former “heroic win” against Leon Slater and subsequent re-election into the Kentucky Governor’s office three years ago.
Good Morning America actually had Leif sitting in the studio doing a live interview.
The president sat incredulous as the smiling cowboy—he was dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, boots, and a cowboy hat—strapped on his guitar and sang “Trail to Somewhere.” The tanned, handsome thirty-three-year-old from Shepherdsville was still single, the young female anchor chirped, dubbing him the newest “Most Eligible Bachelor in America.”
After his ditty, Leif thanked the viewers and congratulated his brother. But William Mitchell’s win wasn’t what captured viewers. The anchors on CNN, MSNBC and the network news channels still focused on Leif’s bold move to uncover the terrorist backing of his opponent in his bid for governor, and how it had led him to become one of the most visible and adored politicians in the country.
“Leif Mitchell has certainly remained popular following his re-election, and his brother’s win only brings the story to the public mind all over again,” one anchor said to a panel he was interviewing. “No one can forget Leif’s efforts to not only uncover the terrorist backing of his opponent, but to stop what might have become another 911. And yet, the White House administration has not seemed to be able to capitalize on any of this.”
The president leaned forward in his chair, turning up the volume.
“I believe the administration is going to have to finally step it up a notch in doing more to protect Israel from being invaded from terrorists in the future,” a gray-haired political scholar from Georgetown University being interviewed on FOX News sternly said. Greene flipped from that channel to another, turning up the volume.
“… I hope it lights a fire under the president, and that he finally gets something done over there to fortify Israel,” Democratic Senator Mike Meese from Indiana said on CNN. “It’s about time. Leif Mitchell has been called a hero, and rightly so. He got the ball rolling but it doesn’t seem like Martin Greene has picked it up and run with it yet. Now that his first term in office is half over, let’s see if he can finally take some action. It’s my opinion that the President needs to wipe out our enemies over there and stop them once and for all, instead of wheeling and dealing with them all the time like his predecessor did.”
After about a half hour of watching the various television stations, the president wearily left the room and headed out to his private chambers for breakfast with his wife. He needed the comfort and support of the one person whom he trusted. He needed to vent. Not one announcer or political “expert” had asked how Leif had gotten his information about Leon Slater’s terrorist connections years ago in the first place. If they had asked, Leif must have remained mute on the issue, just like Martin had asked him to do.
Unbeknownst to the American public, Vice President Greene had pulled Leif aside after dinner the night of the July Fourth benefit concert in which he had performed and spoke to him privately for a few minutes. The vice president had given Leif some invaluable advice on his opponent Leon Slater: that he was suspected of possibly having terrorist backing.
Martin Greene handed Leif a piece of paper that night telling him to open it after he left and was alone. On the paper was a list of sources within the CIA, NSA, and FBI that he had cleared to talk to Leif about Slater.
It was up to Leif to do the digging, but the cowboy singer would have never known to even begin searching, much less where and how, without Martin’s help.
And now the whole thing had backfired. Leif Mitchell was a hero and he, the president of the United States, would sink even lower in the public eye until he took action against the Palestinians and Islamic extremists—or at least punished another major terrorist leader.
If he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t get reelected to another term. It seemed to him that the American people were reaching lynch-mob fervor and all eyes were on him. He may even be impeached.
Martin knew his mind was wandering in a dangerous direction, and he was becoming paranoid. He needed to talk to Carol and get some relief.
He met her in their private dining room. She looked like a butterfly in a light yellow suit, which contrasted with the dark ringlets that framed her face.
He kissed his wife on the cheek and sat across the dinette table from her. Before he had a chance to unload his resentment about Leif on her, Carol started the conversation.
“Our youngest daughter has asked me to ask you a favor,” she said, her eyes twinkling with merriment.
“Why wouldn’t she just ask me herself?” Martin took a big bite of the turkey sandwich they had just been served. He was starving.
“Because you’re always busy, understandably so, and she just hasn’t seen you. Besides, it involves a young man, and I think she could talk about it more easily with me.”
“So what does she want?” Martin asked absentmindedly, wolfing down his sandwich, his mind elsewhere.
“She wants to invite this young man here to visit her,” Carol said, smiling. “It seems she’s developed a crush on him.”
“Do I know him?”
“In fact, you do. It’s Leif Mitchell.”
It was a good thing Martin had swallowed the last bite he had taken or he probably would have choked. He gasped, grabbed his glass of iced tea, and gulped it down, regaining composure. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Why, what’s wrong with Leif Mitchell? I just saw on the news how he helped his brother win the governor’s seat in Maryland, gaining another Republican state victory. I would think you’d approve. You seemed to be friendly enough with him when he was here to do the benefit concert. I thought he was a perfect gentleman and would be a wonderful suitor for our Wendy.”
Martin left the remains of his sandwich uneaten and rubbed his temples. He had suddenly lost his appetite and had a headache. He knew what his wife meant when she said that Leif would be good for “their Wendy.”
Their youngest daughter was known for her wild, impetuous streak. She had partied through college out at Stanford University, being caught on camera at various bars with dozens of men, despite her father’s constant warnings. It hadn’t helped his presidential candidacy any.
Wendy was a natural beauty, although she was constantly “updating” her appearance, as she would say, adding highlights and extensio
ns to her naturally long blond hair and wearing a variety of outfits, some a little revealing or risqué in Martin’s opinion.
Ever since she had come back home to DC about a year ago, she had calmed down a bit under the threat from her father that he would cut her off financially if she didn’t shape up. She got a job as a bank manager, which forced her to wear more conservative clothing, didn’t frequent many bars or parties, and had only dated one young man for about a month before breaking it off.
“… don’t you think, dear?” Carol brought her husband out of his reverie.
“I think it’s a terrible idea.”
“But, Martin, this young man is a hero.”
“Yes, only because I made him one.” Martin’s blood pressure started to rise hearing the word ‘hero’ for the umpteenth time that day, and he finally told his wife what he had wanted to tell her all along: how he had set up the victory for Leif Mitchell the first time and how it had eventually backfired when the young Republican had turned around and stolen his glory.
Martin mulled over his wife’s suggestion. His daughter could be a potential embarrassment to the White House if she was “out there” in the news and on social media. And he didn’t want to swell Leif’s ego any further by matching him with the daughter that obviously adored him.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized a match between one of his daughters and Leif Mitchell might actually be a good thing. If Leif became a suitor and thus, frequent visitor to the White House, he would attract the media along with him. The favorable limelight that seemed to follow Leif Mitchell would be cast on all of them, just like it had been with the benefit concert. And his eldest daughter wouldn’t be as likely to cast any shadows once in that limelight as her younger sister might.
“Like they say, hold your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“What, dear?” Carol was confused.
Martin didn’t realize he had spoken the words out loud. “I’ll talk to Victoria.”
“But I don’t think she’s even interested in Leif Mitchell.” Carol was perplexed, as she was often lately by her husband’s brooding and seemingly rash decisions.
Martin smiled. “We’ll see.”
“But what about Wendy?”
“She’ll get over it and find another young man in a heartbeat. There are plenty, I’m sure, just standing in line.”
Carol started to object again but was met with her husband’s deep frown. So she kept quiet, knowing once her husband had made up his mind it was futile to try to change it.
Victoria had thrown a fit when her father sat her down to talk to her about having Leif visit more and possibly court her. Martin had lied, saying Leif was interested in dating his oldest daughter.
“Well, I’m not interested in some cowboy rock singer, even if he is a governor,” she protested. “I’ll find my own man when I’m ready, thank you very much, but right now I’m only interested in getting my master’s degree and furthering my career.”
Victoria was extremely smart like her mother, and goal-oriented and driven like her father, and right now she was only focused on climbing the corporate ladder at one of DC’s biggest marketing firms.
When her father pushed a little more, she pushed back. “There is no way I’m going out with Leif Mitchell and that’s final,” she said. So Martin gave up.
Fortunately his wife wasn’t one to say “I told you so,” so he went back to tell her she was probably right and he was willing to give her idea a try with their youngest daughter.
Martin watched his wife smile triumphantly when he told her Victoria had said “no way.”
“Don’t worry, dear, you have enough to do, I’ll handle this one,” she said.
As Leif had quickly learned, in politics there was no rest for the weary. Once his brother was elected, it was time to turn his focus once again on his own campaign for gubernatorial re-election coming up the following year.
Still, he managed to take time off every once in a while and when he did, he turned his sights back home to Little River for some much needed rest and relaxation. His parents had assembled the family, the farmhands, and everyone at the ranch for a family feast to celebrate Will’s victory.
Leif took advantage of the opportunity and, after everyone left, lingered until dusk settled on the farm, breathing in the familiar barn smells that for him were like aromatherapy, helping him focus and maintain his feeling of serenity amidst the rapidly changing world around him.
After spending the night, Leif took Monday off, and visited the stables, cherishing the rare moments to be around his favorite thing in the world—his horses.
He expelled some pent-up energy by taking a ride on one of the newer colts in the stable. The animal was almost untamed and galloped for nearly an hour through the pastures and woods until both horse and rider were exhausted and covered in sweat, despite the winter chill.
Leif needed a shower and was removing his dust-caked boots upon entering the mud room in the main house when his father walked in and handed him the phone.
“Dad, can’t you take a message?” Leif whispered, disgruntled. He had come to the farm for some peace, hoping to escape the madness for a little while, and wasn’t ready to give it up and face the real world just yet. He had been looking forward to just sitting before the blazing fire. Besides, he was covered in grime.
“I don’t think so, son. It’s the president.”
Leif listened as President Greene invited him to the White House for a weekend stay to discuss an “objective” he said he wanted to talk to him about in person.
“Of course Mister President, I’ll be there this Friday,” Leif said, winking to his dad, who stood watching him, smiling proudly.
When the limousine dropped Leif off at the White House security entrance, a press mob was waiting. Thankfully, three Secret Service men shielded him from the barrage of microphones and questions, so the media had to be satisfied with photos and video footage.
When he had come to the White House the first time, Leif had been escorted right to the East Room to set up for the concert. Today, he had been told the president’s daughter Wendy would be giving him a full tour and would meet him in the Blue Room. He would then meet with the president over a private dinner.
He remembered Wendy because she had sat across from him at the White House dinner following the benefit concert he had given. She was pretty, he remembered. Still, Leif had had so much on his mind that night that he really hadn’t paid her too much attention.
But he couldn’t help noticing her now as she walked toward him in a smart, form-fitting royal-blue dress with a scoop neckline, the hem cut mid-thigh. Her smooth blond hair was hanging down below her shoulders, pulled playfully back on one side with a matching blue barrette. She looked even more stunning now than she had in her full-length gown the night of the concert, carrying herself with more poise and confidence than she had years ago.
Her eyes sparkled as she extended her hand to shake his. Leif suddenly felt like a bumbling teenager instead of the governor of the state of Kentucky, and he was tongue-tied.
“Hi, Governor Mitchell. Welcome back to the White House.” Her genuine smile was radiant.
Leif finally snapped out of his reverie to answer her. “It’s good to be back. And it’s nice to see you again.” He took off his cowboy hat and gave her a slight bow.
“So are you ready to see our humble abode?”
Leif looked around him at the anything-but-humble surroundings. Even on a non-holiday, the Blue Room, where she had received him, was usually ornate with its blue-and-gold trim. It looked out on the South Lawn, which was presently covered in a blanket of snow that had fallen the night before and glistened in the midday sun as if it were covered with millions of diamonds.
Since it was December though, the Blue Room was spectacularly adorned with the official White House Christmas tree. The Christmas theme this year as planned by the First Lady was called “Birds of a Feather,” and the twen
ty trees throughout the White House were decorated with handcrafted birds, each from various states, that looked and even felt real. The eighteen-foot-tall Douglas fir in the Blue Room was the biggest and most beautiful, trimmed with white doves to symbolize national unity and peace, captivating the hundreds of thousands of visitors that were lucky enough to schedule a Christmas tour.
Leif was mesmerized for a minute, then turned to his hostess. He knew she was just teasing with her choice of words; still, they were evidence of her education and upbringing and piqued his interest in her.
“Lead on, Miss Greene,” he said, and crooked his arm, through which she slipped her hand and led the way.
“Please, call me Wendy.”
“Only if you call me Leif.”
“Deal.” He felt an instant comfort and warmth between them as she led him through the elaborate halls decorated with enormous wreaths made of a variety of evergreens, flowers, berries and pinecones.
She showed him all of the main rooms and some of the residence rooms, which were off-limits to the public, then the indoor and outdoor recreational facilities, including the bowling alley, movie theater, tennis courts, track, and swimming pool.
They passed by the White House kitchen, from which emanated the smells of fresh-baked breads, roasted lamb and apple pie. A half-dozen cooks, led by three chefs, were scrambling about and didn’t even notice them.
“The kitchen is extra busy this time of year,” Wendy said, glancing at her watch. “Wow, it’s going to be dinnertime soon. This was so much fun I didn’t realize what time it was. Do you want me to show you to your room so you can relax a little bit before meeting my father?”
Wendy led Leif down a long hallway to the guest rooms. “We have a total of 132 rooms in the White House. Which one would you like?” She smiled teasingly.
His room had already been chosen. When they arrived at his door, Leif faked a frown.
“What’s wrong—you didn’t like our tour?” Wendy asked, concerned. “You don’t like the White House?”
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