Regrets Only

by Sally Quinn

  He picked her up and carried her into their small bedroom in back, put her down on the open sofa bed, and began to stroke her and caress her as he climbed on top of her and held her to him.

  Des was right. He made her forget that she felt bad, and miraculously, as he made love to her, all of her fears seemed to evaporate. Nothing else mattered except for her and Des. If only she could have him around all the time, she knew she wouldn’t be plagued with indecision. It was only when they were apart that she couldn’t make up her mind about anything.

  “You are mine now,” he whispered as he pressed his body to her. “Oh, God. Oh, hold me, baby, hold me.” He was coming now, and his ferocity overwhelmed her, so that when she came she could feel herself slipping into a faint, and the last thing she remembered was Des’s breath on her shoulder and his voice crying out in passion.

  * * *

  Rosey had been in great spirits since Sadie had told him she would stay with him and give up Des.

  Somehow, even though Des had made it sound so right, she had felt guilty about lying to him again. It was the deception before which she had despised so. And it was the deception that had caused her to tell him she was leaving him in the first place. Now she had signed on for nearly four more months of it. Not that she was actually thinking rationally about any of this. Jenny had told her that these last few weeks, she was certifiable.

  “Delirious is what my doctor calls it,” said Sadie, smiling weakly. She didn’t really feel like smiling. She felt so sick she could barely sit up in bed. She hadn’t been able to eat in a week, and then only clear soups and tea. She had refused all calls from Des. Her private phone was in her study, and she was too sick to go in there anyway. She had asked Jenny to tell him that she was too sick and too confused to talk and that she needed some time alone to think. She had in fact come down with pneumonia, as she always did when she was under tremendous stress. She couldn’t have been more relieved. She did exactly what she had wanted to do: she went to bed and stayed there. Rosey slept in the Lincoln bedroom to avoid getting sick. He came to see her briefly each evening when he wasn’t on the road, but he was busy and preoccupied, and she was glad when their short visits ended.

  Jenny was her constant companion, either perched on the edge of their king-size bed or curled up in an armchair she had dragged over close to Sadie so they could hear each other better.

  “Jesus,” said Jenny. “It’s a good thing Allison’s not around. She’d be on to this in five minutes.”

  “What do you mean? Where is she?”

  “You are out of it, aren’t you? If you’d been reading The Daily you’d know that she’s off the White House beat and covering the Republican candidates.”

  “Wonder why she did that.”

  “On your list of worries, my dear, I’d say that was at the very bottom.”

  “What’s at the top? Remind me. I’ve forgotten.”

  Jenny ignored her attempt at humor.

  “You haven’t told either of them?”

  “Now who’s certifiable? Are you kidding? Exactly how would you suggest I phrase it: ‘Oh, by the way, I’m pregnant’?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Oh, Jenny, I’m so terrified. Don’t make fun of me.”

  “Des called again this morning.”

  “I can’t bear it.”

  “You’ve really got to talk to him. It isn’t fair.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Ever since my meeting with him I’ve just been racked with doubts and misgivings. You know Des has a way of making everything sound so simple, so that when I’m with him I agree, and then I get away from him and I’m all confused again. Besides, all the advice he has given me is without knowing that I’m pregnant. Don’t you see how awful this is for me? Whichever one I decide to stay with will have to accept a child which might not be his. It’s an intolerable situation. I don’t see how I can rightly stay with either of them.”

  “You’re delirious.”

  “Well, Jenny, just think about it.”

  “Think about it, she tells me. Do you think I have thought of anything else this past year? We could be in the midst of a nuclear war and I wouldn’t know it.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe Rosey will accidentally push the wrong button and blow us all away and then I won’t have to deal with this. I think I’ll speak to him about it. He said he’d do anything to get me to stay.”

  “I can’t help thinking there’s a simpler solution.”

  “Abortion?”

  “Well…”

  “Oh, God.”

  “It’s certainly the most viable solution. After all, you are forty and you’ve got two practically grown children. And don’t forget your heart condition. Giving birth could endanger your health.”

  “I could never keep it a secret.”

  “Yes, you could. Say you’re having a D and C.”

  “Rosey would find out. Somebody would find out. I just don’t think it would work.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “Yes.”

  Jenny looked at her.

  “No… What if it’s Des’s baby? It would be my love child. And what if it were Rosey’s? It would be a brother or sister of Outland’s. Rosey gave me my beloved Outland. How could I do away with another Outland? I just couldn’t.”

  “So what are your alternatives?”

  “I can tell Des it’s his, leave Rosey after the nomination, and go into seclusion. But that might cost Rosey the election. I can leave the White House and go off somewhere to Europe to stay with Outland and write and have my baby there. I can stay with Rosey and go into seclusion here claiming I’m sick until the election. Then leave him. I can stay with Rosey pretending the baby is his and remain a prisoner in the White House for the next four years.”

  “None of them sound very attractive—or very realistic, for that matter.”

  “They all sound horrible.”

  “You could lie to Rosey and tell him you used a diaphragm with Des. He’ll never know. For that matter, you could lie to Des and say you used one with Rosey. But the fact is that you will be showing before the election, and if you are showing you will have to stay with Rosey. If you want to go with Des, you have only one choice.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Have an abortion.”

  Sadie closed her eyes and lay back on her pillow. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and though she thought it must be her imagination, she could have sworn that she felt the baby’s heartbeat as well. Whatever it was, she felt a quickening in her body, and she instinctively put her arms around her belly to protect her child within.

  “Jenny,” she had finally said, “you’ve got to do something for me. I can’t bear to talk to Des. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m too afraid to tell him I’m pregnant for fear of what he’ll say. You’ve got to tell him for me that I am not sure anymore of what I’m going to do. That the decision is harder than I had thought it would be. And that he must try to understand what I am going through and how difficult it is for me. Please tell him that for me, Jenny. Tell him I will let him know what I decide as soon as I am well and can think properly. Please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. I’ll have to find a way to tell him myself. Oh, and Jen? Tell him I love him.”

  * * *

  Monday was the first day she had actually gotten dressed. She had called Ivan, her hairdresser, to go with her on Air Force One to San Francisco, and he had brought his makeup specialist with him. Ivan had worked her over for what seemed like hours before they were to leave the White House, trying to make her look healthy.

  “Mrs. Grey,” he had said, “you are still very sick. Are you sure you should go with the President? Why don’t you stay in Washington and fly out Thursday for the acceptance speech? You really are not well enough to go today, and frankly, if I may speak the truth, you do not look well. Three more days and you would look more like yourself.”

  She still did feel extremely weak,
and she didn’t see how she would be able to handle the appearances she would be expected to make if she did go out with Rosey that afternoon. And too, she would have to deal with the jet lag, which always knocked her for a loop.

  The Weekly had called and asked her to be its special guest of honor at a luncheon on Wednesday of that week. Jenny had approached her with that message. She still hadn’t responded. Jenny didn’t know whether Des had been responsible for the invitation or not.

  When Ivan suggested she not go, she called Jenny and asked her to come up to her dressing room right away. She presented her with the argument that she not go until Thursday, and Jenny, seeing the desperation in her eyes, agreed and called Rosey to tell him she was still too weak to go with him.

  Rosey was nothing but solicitous. He came from finishing last-minute preparations in the Oval Office and took her into the bedroom with him and shut the door.

  “I am so sorry you’re still feeling poorly, sugar,” he said. “I’ll miss you very much, but I think you’re doing the right thing. The suite will be a zoo, with people running in and out, and I’ll be busy meeting with people, so I won’t have any time to concentrate on you. Besides, I want you feeling wonderful and looking like my beautiful bride for Thursday night when I accept the nomination. I promise you that Friday afternoon, you and I are heading up to East Hampton, and we’ll stay there at least two weeks, and I plan to concentrate on you and you alone. I love you, my darling Sadiebelle. I love you more than life itself. And I promise you that you have made the right decision.”

  Sadie kissed him goodbye, went into the bathroom, and ran a hot tub, turning the water on full blast so that nobody would hear her cry.

  * * *

  The weather in San Francisco was perfect. Clear and warm, without a trace of fog, and fifteen degrees cooler than the scorching heat across the Bay.

  Sadie had arrived at about four in the afternoon—just enough time, really, to get dressed and made up and have Ivan do her hair. She had chosen a white knit suit with a white silk blouse and ropes of pearls. The irony of wearing white while she was pregnant with one of two men’s baby appealed to her in a macabre way.

  The backdrop in the San Francisco convention hall was bright blue and red, and she thought that the white would not only complement the colors but also stand out against them. It also did wonderful things for her auburn hair, and it didn’t make her look as washed-out as a bright color would, considering that she had been sick for so many weeks.

  The Presidential Suite at the Huntington was soft and elegant, with beautiful flowers everywhere and a spectacular view of the Bay. But it was so crowded with staff and aides that Sadie was delighted to have arrived only at the last minute.

  Rosey rushed to greet her, and the two disappeared into the bedroom for a moment alone.

  “You’re going to be proud of me tonight, sugar. As proud of me as I am of you. I have a surprise for you. I’m not going to tell you what it is, but I think you’ll like it. I’ve got to go over the speech one more time. I’ll leave you alone now to get dressed. I love you.” And he looked fondly down at her and kissed her lightly on the nose, squeezing both of her hands in support.

  “Good luck” was all she could say as he walked out of the bedroom to meet with his waiting staff.

  Ivan really had worked miracles, as had his makeup person. She not only looked healthy, she looked radiant. She couldn’t believe it was her own image in the mirror that she was seeing. The transformation from a pale, wan, sickly creature to vibrant, glowing beauty was extraordinary.

  She practically held her breath in the limousine going over to the convention hall, where she would take her place in the family box next to the podium and wait for Rosey to appear. Jenny was with her in the car. She was her life-support system. Taking Jenny away from her would be like pulling the plug.

  “Will he be there?”

  “Of course. He’s a journalist.”

  “Where will he be sitting?”

  “On the other side of the podium from where you’re sitting. The press is on the opposite side.”

  “Will I be able to see him?”

  “Not from where you’re sitting. You can see him when you join Rosey on the podium. He’ll be to your left.”

  “How is he, Jen?”

  “Frantic.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “He can’t believe you might change your mind. And he’s really angry that you won’t talk to him.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s why he’s frantic.”

  “I can’t bear it.”

  “You can’t cry, Sadie—you’ll smudge your makeup.”

  “To hell with my makeup.”

  “Listen, the networks are going to interview you when you’re in the family box, and they’re going to be doing close-up shots. Now, I’ve got you out of any interviews in the network booths. They all know you’ve been sick. But you can’t look like you’ve been crying. Please, Sadie, pull yourself together.”

  “What am I going to do, Jenny?”

  “You’re going to make up your mind. And you’re going to tell Des one way or the other—that’s what. I can’t live this way any longer. It’s tearing me apart. And I can imagine how Des feels. Do you have any idea what that man has been going through the last few weeks? You can’t do this to him. Or yourself, for that matter. You’re going to have to decide, Sadie. And you’re going to have to do it now.”

  They were escorted to the holding room behind the podium from where they would then be taken to their seats in the box. Sadie felt as though she were walking in a daze as they came up in the elevator and then climbed the blue-carpeted stairs to enter a series of small, windowless rooms with a narrow hall. Looking at her white clothes, she suddenly imagined herself an Aztec maiden being led to the top of the pyramid to be sacrificed. She could imagine blood on her dress and herself crying out, as she had so many times in her feverish dreams of the last few weeks. Her urge to break away and run back down the ramp and out of the hall was overwhelming, but somehow she managed the polite smiles and handshakes that were required of a First Lady.

  As she walked into the tiny holding room behind the podium, she saw her son, Outland, standing tall and straight and smiling at her as he held out his arms.

  “Outland! Oh, my baby, my baby, Outland!” she cried as she threw herself into his arms and held on as tightly as she could, not wanting to ever let go.

  “Hi, Mama,” he said, laughing at her tears. “Hey, calm down. It’s a surprise. I’m coming, not leaving.”

  “Sadie, here,” said Jenny. “Ivan gave me a little extra makeup in case of emergencies. I would say this is an emergency. I told the President this surprise was not a good idea. But he wanted Outland to be here and not have you know about it. It’s a get-well present, he said.”

  Sadie saw Annie Laurie, standing behind Outland, and turned to give her a hug. At least now, with her family here, she knew she could make it through the evening. She let Jenny fix her makeup and calmed herself down as much as she could under the circumstances, then proceeded out to the family box, flanked by her two children, to tremendous applause. She stood and waved for minutes while the band played “Sweet Georgia Brown,” and then, when the demonstrating had died down, the three of them sat down. No sooner had they been seated than she heard others come into the box and she turned to see her parents, G, and Miz G. She almost burst into tears when she saw her mother, but Miz G’s presence there helped her to control herself.

  “It’s a surprise, darlin’,” said her mother. “Rosey said you’d been so sick he didn’t want to bother you with plans. He just wanted us all to be here, the family—to be with you.”

  Sadie couldn’t decide whether she should be angry at Rosey or sympathetic. Obviously he had gathered the whole family around as reinforcement for her, for him, for them, their marriage.

  “Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Grey.” The network correspondents were converging upon the family box with the
ir earphones in place, their microphones held high toward her face.

  “How are you feeling after your bout with pneumonia?” one of them shouted.

  “I feel much better. I had a good three weeks in bed and enough time to recuperate because I wanted to be sure I could be here tonight.”

  “Didn’t you get pneumonia during the last weeks of the campaign four years ago?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is this your way of getting out of campaigning?”

  She was an ace by now at turning potentially hostile questions into jokes.

  “Funny, you’re not the first one to suggest that. My husband asked me the same question.” And she laughed a disarming laugh.

  “How do you feel about your husband getting nominated tonight?”

  “Well, I know he feels that he has done a lot so far in this job, but there are so many things that he’s started he’d like to see finished. He’s hoping to get that chance.”

  “What about you, Mrs. Grey? Are you looking forward to another four years in the White House?”

  For a moment she thought she was going to lose her composure, but she managed to smile and look enthusiastic before she could come up with an answer.

  “Four years is a long time,” she started to say, and then caught herself before she continued that thought. “You can get a lot accomplished in four years. My husband will need that time to do what needs to be done, and I look forward to seeing someone of his quality elected to carry out the programs that he and his Administration have begun.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Grey.”

  Her neck was getting stiff; she found it difficult to turn her head all the way either way. She scanned the floor while her friend Senator Malcolm Sohier was addressing the convention to see if she could find Des, but he wasn’t down there. Once she saw Allison talking to one of the network floor reporters, but she vanished back up on the other side of the podium to the press section before Sadie could get a good look at her.

  Mercifully, Rosey had been introduced and had appeared on the podium, to tumultuous applause. The demonstration went on forever, and Rosey looked ecstatic standing there waving to the crowds. He really did belong there, Sadie knew. He belonged in that office. He should be President. The country needed him. The question was did the country need her?