Madam President (27 page)

On her second attempt Anna Strayer tried sleeping pills, but ended up vomiting before they could do much damage. The result was a killer headache and six months of institutionalization, at the end of which, she was functional. She was sent home with an armload of anti-depressant drugs and, ironically, a prescription for sleeping pills... in the event that her insomnia should make a reappearance.

But those days seemed far away, even as the pain from this most recent attempt came in fresh waves. Howard had gone to the cafeteria for a much needed cup of coffee, leaving Lauren alone in the room with her mother.

Spring sunshine poured in through the sparkling clean windows, warming the room that was painted in soothing tones of green. The writer's eyelids felt heavy, but she knew she was too wired to sleep. Instead, she sat quietly, watching over the person who was supposed to watch over her.

Lauren felt chiefly sad. But there was also anger and a crushing guilt, because a big part of her wondered if her mother wouldn't be better off finding the peace in oblivion she so obviously craved. Was it selfish to force her to continue when she so clearly didn't want to? This was no cry for help. Howard was supposed to be gone for the morning, and, unlike Anna's other attempts, this couldn't be painted as half-hearted. She had wanted to die. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Who were the doctors, or Lauren herself, or her father, to tell her that she couldn't?

Anna stirred, slowly turning her head toward Lauren and opening her eyes for the first time since the day before. "Hi, honey," she said softly, when her gaze landed on her daughter. Anna's expression was the very picture of despair, and Lauren watched in agony as her mother's face contorted with pain as she took in her surroundings, realizing what had happened, and what the likely outcome would be.

"Hi, Mama," Lauren croaked weakly. Her chin quivered slightly, but she took a calming breath and slowly made her way to her mother's bedside. What could she say? 'I'm glad you're alive, even though I know that you're not. Daddy and the doctors saved you, only so you can spend God knows how long back in the institution or spaced out on drugs'?

Anna tried to lift her arms. She looked with wide, dazed eyes at the strong bindings that strapped her to the bed. "I can't do anything right, can I?" she whispered brokenly, then turned away from Lauren, wallowing in just one more failure.

A soft knock on the door caused Lauren's bowed head to swing around.

Anna Strayer tried to sit up, confusion written all over her face. A low keening sound suddenly erupted from her throat. Why wouldn't everyone leave her alone?!

"Shh... rest now, Mama," Lauren said quietly, doing her best to block out the almost inhuman noise that was hurting her ears and shredding her heart. She tenderly straightened her mother's covers, intentionally keeping her eyes away from the wide leather straps that tightly held her arms and legs to the bed, and the stark white bandages that wrapped her wrists. "I'll go see who it is."

Lauren bent and placed an awkward kiss on her mother's cheek, then headed for the door, which was already being pushed open by a heavy-set black nurse. "Yes?" Lauren asked, wondering why she'd bothered to knock.

"Ms. Strayer?" The woman's voice was deep, her thick accent drawing out each word and adding syllables where there were none.

"Yes."

"You have a phone call, ma'am. It's from the White House," the nurse said, awe reflected in her warm chocolate eyes. "The doctor said you could take it in the conference room, even though it's for staff only. You need to come now. It's urgent, ma'am."

Lauren nodded slowly, another kernel of worry blossoming in her belly.
What now?
“One second." She turned back to her mother. "I need to take this call for work, Mama. I'll be right back."

For a moment she thought her mother hadn't heard her. But then Lauren noticed that the gray eyes, whose color so closely matched her own, were vacant and unseeing, staring off into space. She was awake but somewhere else. Lauren had tried to understand... tried to figure out where her mother went when she just disappeared inside herself. Tried to reach her and begged her to come home...

It wasn't until she was a teenager that Lauren fully grasped that that far away place would forever be Anna Strayer's alone. Despite her best efforts, in her heart she fully believed that there was no bringing her mother back, no helping her find her way home. Ever.

With a soundless sigh, Lauren stepped out into the hall with the nurse. "Let's go."

At the end of the hallway was a small room with a round table and six chairs, a coffee maker, and a phone with video link. That was all.

"You can take the call in here, ma'am. When I get back to the nurse's station I'll tell the operator to transfer it."

"Do you-"

"I'm sorry," she nurse said sincerely. "I don't know anything more." She shut the door quietly, and Lauren wrung her hands for the thirty seconds it took for the video link to fire into life.

An image of Jane, from the shoulders up, appeared above the phone and across the small table from Lauren. The older woman's eyes were teary, and lines of worry cut deeply into her forehead. "Lauren?"

Lauren paled at the expression on Jane's face. She licked her lips. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to have to be..." Jane paused for a moment to collect herself, and Lauren felt her anxiety ratchet higher. Whatever it was, it was bad. Very bad. "It's Dev... there's been an accident. Umm... no, that's not right," Jane corrected herself quickly. "She's been shot, Lauren."

Lauren blinked, staring stupidly at Jane's image, the secretary's words not quite penetrating her brain. "Wh... what?"

"Devlyn's been shot, Lauren." This time Jane's voice was firm. "About twenty minutes ago. David asked me to call you."

Lauren swallowed around an enormous lump in her throat.
Devlyn's been shot? Someone shot her?
Jesus.
She felt sick. "Is she... is she?" The blonde woman choked out the words.

Jane shook her head. "Not at last report, dear. But we don't know how bad it is yet."

Lauren's eyes fluttered closed. "Oh, thank God," she muttered softly, her stomach still roiling. "Thank God." She let out a shuddering breath and scrubbed her face with slightly shaking hands. "What happened?"

"She had a speech at a local high school today. When she was leaving the stage someone opened fire. We're still putting all the information together." Tears leaked from Jane's eyes and trickled down her round cheeks. "David wanted me to call you. He didn't want you to think... well, he wanted to make sure you didn't just hear it on the news."

"So... so, the kids were at home. They didn't see. They're okay, right?" Lauren asked in a rush, her mind desperately trying to process what she was being told.
I need to get back there. I need...

"The children are safe with Emma and Amy. They haven't been told yet. We didn't want to tell them until we had some real news." Jane hesitated, knowing she was putting Lauren in a terrible spot just by mentioning it. But she needed to. "Should I tell David you'll be coming back? Or..."

"No! I'll be there just as soon as I can." There wasn't a second's hesitation. She could tell her father on the way out of the hospital. "Where is she?"

"David will send someone to meet you at the airport. They'll take you to her then. Her location is classified. They'll be doing a press announcement in about five minutes."

"Classified? Shit! Fine. I guess I'll come into Dulles. I'm not sure when." Lauren rubbed her temples. "And I'm not sure what airline. Maybe I can book a private plane or..." She was starting to panic.

"Lauren, calm down, dear. I'll make all the calls. Just go to the airport. We'll get you to her no matter what. I'll call you on your cell phone and let you know where to go."

Lauren nodded furiously. "Okay, okay. I'm leaving right now." She jumped to her feet, swaying a little as her knees threatened to give way. Lauren was on her way out of the room before she realized she hadn't said goodbye. She turned back to Jane. "You tell Devlyn... well... just... you tell her not to do something stupid like die, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can, Jane." Without waiting for a reply, Lauren ran out of the room, leaving Jane to hear the fading sound of her pounding footsteps as they echoed down the hospital hall.

*
 
*
 
*

David stood at the front of the limousine, pushing his hands in and out of his pants pockets over and over again as the private jet he'd arranged to pick up Lauren taxied to a stop. She'd made it from the hospital in Nashville back to Washington D.C. in just a little more than three hours. The jet door burst open and Lauren jumped out, toting a small carry-on bag. She broke into a dead run for the thirty or so yards it took to reach the Chief of Staff.

She was panting by the time she reached David and skidded to a stop.
Please don't let me be too late. No, David wouldn't be here if she were...
"David! Is..."

He waved her off, indicating the press hounds that were waiting nearby, their cameras snapping away and tape recorders waiting to pick up any part of the conversation. The world had simply imploded since the announcement had been made. The Press was everywhere, dogging every move every White House staffer made. Looking for hidden meanings behind every activity or decision.

David pulled open the limo door and hustled Lauren inside the car. The door had barely slammed shut when the car jerked forward, a police escort clearing their path.

He took a seat across from her. The first words out of David's mouth once they were alone were, "She's alive."

Lauren let out a shuddering breath and said another prayer. But before she could even savor a moment of relief, a wave of anger assailed her, overwhelming her and guiding her action. She leaned forward and poked David in the chest with a furious finger. "Where was all her security, David?!" The volume of her voice increased with every word. "They were supposed to protect her!"

Guilt clouded his eyes. "Lauren, she was shot leaving the stage. They reacted quickly, exactly the way they're trained to. They got her out of there and to the hospital. They caught the assassin." His jaw clenched. "You know as well as I do, if someone is determined enough, nothing will stop him!"

Lauren lowered her hand, but her posture remained challenging. "Those sound like nothing but excuses to me. If they were doing their job, they would have gotten the assassin
before
she was shot!" She slumped back in her seat with her arms crossed. Lauren knew she was being unreasonable. That she was lashing out at someone who didn't deserve it. But she was furious, and she felt like she was losing the tenuous control she had of her emotions. It was too much at the same time. Her mother. Dev.

David took a chance and moved next to Lauren who remained deathly still. He could see she was trembling slightly, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. "Have you cried yet?"

Lauren violently tried to shove him away, unable to stand the closeness, not wanting to let go of the fraying emotional thread she was clinging to. But David didn't move. He was as solid as a rock. Lauren's pushing soon gave way to weak pawing, punctuated by ragged, pained breaths as the writer fought more with herself than David. "I... don't... need... to... " She tried to grind out the words between clenched teeth, but her speech was interrupted by her quivering chin and by broken sniffles she foggily realized were her own. She felt long arms tighten around her, and she sank into their warmth and comfort. Another sniffle and the dam simply broke. Lauren buried her face in David's chest and began to cry in earnest. For everything.

"That's it. Get it all out. It's okay," he soothed softly, knowing damn well that he'd be doing the same thing in his wife's arms tonight. "Get it out before we get to the hospital."