Over the next week Kay was on pins and needles. She jumped at everything the kids said, and kept forgetting what she was doing. The kids seemed to have forgotten about the men who had visited, but her mother badgered her about it when they were alone in the churchyard on Sunday.
The kids were running around on the grass with some of the other kids, and Kay’s husband was leaning on the fence by the parking lot talking crops with the other men. Kay’s mom threw a bunch of questions at her, but some of the other women came over to talk before Kay was forced to answer her Mom. Her Mom, or course, shot her a look that said she wasn’t done asking.
Kay was beside herself when the women cozied up to her and said, “I hear the FBI was at your house this week!” Kay shot a glance at her Mom, who was innocently straightening the sleeve of her sweater. She looked up at Kay and gave a weak shrug.
Kay looked back at the woman, straight into her eyes, and said, “it wasn’t the FBI, it was the Secret Service. They said I look just like the president’s wife and they want me to pose as a double for her at society events.”
The woman and her friends looked dumbfounded, then broke up laughing. “Oh, Kay! That’s rich!” They wandered off, and the woman who had spoken to Kay leaned close to another woman and whispered in a loud voice, “Poor Kay. She’s cracking under the load. Some women just aren’t cut out for the farm life.”
Kay smiled with satisfaction. Her mother folded her arms and scolded her. “Kay, that’s very funny. Ha. Ha. Ha. Not. Why would you do that?”
“Do what? They wouldn’t have believed anything I told them,” she said.
“Maybe, but still. The president’s wife? Kay, really!” Her mother’s face was reproachful.
Kay’s husband, Dan, waved that he was ready to go. She told her mother good-bye and went to round up the kids. As she was helping them into the van, Samantha, her 7-year old daughter, looked her over intensely.
“Mommy, where are your cracks?” Samantha asked.
Kay was puzzled. “Cracks? What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Jorgensen told Mrs. White that you were cracking up!” the little girl explained.
Kay started laughing and it took her a minute to catch her breath and explain. “Honey, it’s her way of saying she’s worried about me. She thinks I’m working too hard. That’s all.” The little girl looked relieved and settled back into the seat.
When they pulled into the driveway a black car was parked by the road. Two more waited by the house. Kay and Dan exchanged looks. The kids started clamoring about the car and asking questions.
“Kids, go straight in the house and change out of your church clothes. Samantha, can you help Amanda?” Kay asked. She couldn’t believe the men would come back on a Sunday. Was nothing sacred any more?
The kids protested but headed for the house. Dan stayed with Kay, and they watched the men get out of their cars. Kay wasn’t sure if they were the same men as before since they all looked alike.
When the men reached them, Kay introduced her husband. They shook hands with him, then turned to Kay. “We’re here for your decision.”
Kay studied him, trying to see through the mirrored dark glasses. “Can you take off your sunglasses? I’d like to see if there’s a real, living, breathing human behind them.”
Neither man moved for a moment. The man who did most of the talking reached up and removed his sunglasses. He nudged his partner with his elbow, and the other man hesitantly removed his. Kay looked from one to the other. A set of hazel eyes and a set of blue eyes blinked in the sun and gazed back at her.
“Yes,” Kay said. The men blinked and looked blankly at her.
“Yes? Yes what?” they asked in confusion. The speaker continued, “Yes, we’re human? Or yes, you’ll help your country?”
“Yes, I’ll do it, the ‘double’ thing. Though I think it helps the first lady more than it helps the country,” Kay said. “And yes, it’s a comfort to see that you both are actually human. Nice eyes, both of you. You should try going without sunglasses sometimes.”
They snapped the sunglasses back on their faces and stared blankly at her.
“I suppose I’d really be pushing it to ask if you have actual names,” Kay said.
The heads turned toward each other until the mirrored glasses faced one another, then back to her. “Agent Smith. He’s agent Jones.”
Kay gave a snort of laughter and said, “I could have guessed!”
“You will be picked up tomorrow morning at 8:00. This will be a Day assignment for the make-up artists to do a test job on you. You will be returned to your home by 5:00 P.M.” Agent Smith said.
“Okay. Um… do you think you could come in something besides all these black cars? Maybe something discreet, like an old pick-up truck? The neighbors get all excited with these black cars,” Kay asked.
Her husband guffawed next to her. He could just see these guys in an old pick-up truck. “Or maybe she can meet you somewhere in town.”
After a pause Agent Smith said. “No, we’ll pick her up here. We’ll come in something more discreet.”
“What should I bring? Do I need anything?” Kay asked.
“Nothing. Just come as you would if you were going shopping with a friend for the day,” said Agent Jones.
With a nod of their heads they turned as one and returned to their car. The other two men got into the second car, and they left as they had the first time.
Kay let out a long breath. “Whew! I hope I’m not getting in over my head!”
Dan put his arm through hers. “You’ll do fine. I’m proud of you, and I can’t wait to hear your stories. You should keep a journal. Someday after a new president is in the white house, you might be able to write a book about all of this.”
Kay nodded her head. “You’re right! It could be quite a book! Sort of a ‘tell all’, and a bit of adventure. Almost like… a fairy tale, like a regular girl who finds out she’s a princess!”
They walked to the house. Six faces, peering from the windows, suddenly yanked back behind the curtains. A moment later the door opened and they poured out onto the porch.
“What? What is it?” they cried.
Kay and Dan had discussed what to tell the kids, and now Dan said, “Mom is going to do some work for them. Tomorrow is her first day.”
“What kind of work? Is she going to clean their office?” asked Grace.
“Clean their office?” Dan asked, puzzled.
“Yeah. What else does she know how to do?” Amanda piped up.
“Mom knows lots of stuff!” said 13-year old Ben, coming to Kay’s rescue. “She can type really good. Is that what you’re going to do, Mom? Type up their reports and stuff?”
“Maybe a bit of that. I think I’ll be doing a lot of different things. But it’s only when they need me,” Kay said.
“Oh, like a substitute teacher!” said 10-year old Brandon.
“Yes! Like a substitute teacher!” agreed Kay with relief. The kids seemed to understand that.
“I’m going to miss you, mommy!” Amanda said dramatically. But then she jumped up and down. “But Daddy lets me put LOTS of sugar on my cereal, so you don’t have to worry about me eating good!”
When Kay looked at Dan he was looking somewhere else. She led the way into the house. After changing into every-day clothes she went to the kitchen to start Sunday dinner. Farm family or not, they broke tradition and had homemade pizza every Sunday, instead of the traditional fried chicken.
Chapter 2
A New Life
Kay sat nervously on the porch swing. It was almost 8:00. She’d tried to eat a pancake but it felt like cardboard in her mouth. The kids were calm and chattering, which helped soothe her. They were cleaning up the kitchen at the moment.
Dan was going to work around the yard today to keep an eye on the kids. The older ones were good about watching the younger ones, but just in case the kids were anxious about Mom’s job, Dan wanted to be nearby.
He came out on th
e porch and handed her a cup of tea, then lowered himself onto the swing next to her. She smiled at him as he asked, “how are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit of ‘fear of the unknown’.” She sipped the tea and leaned against Dan’s shoulder. They sat in silence, swinging gently. The summery smell of grass was in the air, and birds flew down onto the lawn looking for their breakfast.
A pick-up truck slowed and turned into their driveway. It was an early ‘80s Dodge with a dented fender and rust around the tire wells. Sunlight reflected off a crack in the windshield. It stopped in the yard by the porch.
Kay and Dan stared in disbelief as two men climbed out of the truck. They were wearing worn-out overalls, flannel shirts, and beat-up hats… and mirrored sunglasses. Both removed their hats and said, “Good morning, ma’am, sir.”
“Hi! Nice disguise!” Kay snickered. “I can’t believe you actually came without the black cars and suits!” The agents shrugged uncomfortably. They looked like they wanted to scratch and tug at their shirts.
Agent Smith said, “are you ready?” Kay nodded, hugged Dan, and walked down the steps. Agent Jones held the door open for her to climb in. She scooted to the middle, and the men got in on each side of her. Kay waved at Dan as the truck turned and left.
The late summer sun warmed her through the truck‘s window, and Agent Jones started fooling with the knobs on the dash. “Where’s the gol-darned air conditioner?”
Kay looked at the dashboard and grinned. She pointed to the door. “Right there. It’s called ‘roll down the window’!”
Agent Jones looked in surprise, then cranked the handle around and around and watched the window lower. The breeze ruffled his hair and he tried to smooth it with his hand. A moment later he rolled the window back up.
“You guys don’t get out much, do you?” Kay laughed. “Where did you get this truck, anyway?”
“From the guys who work undercover. Their work is much more… varied.” Agent Smith rolled the window on his side down about halfway. He didn’t seem to mind the breeze. Kay shook her head and let it blow strands of her hair around. Agent Jones pushed his hat down farther and didn’t say anything.
The truck stopped at a red light in the small town nearby. Two women crossed in the crosswalk, and one looked up. It was Mrs. Jorgensen. She stopped dead still in the street and stared through the windshield. The woman with her turned back to see why she stopped.
“Kay?” Mrs. Jorgensen called in disbelief. “Kay, what are you doing in that truck with those men?” The other woman took her arm and hurried her across the street as the light turned green and cars began to move.
Kay sank down further in her seat. ‘Great! The rumor mill is going to be over-flowing today!’ she thought, mortified.
Agent Smith reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He handed them to her without a word.
Kay took them and slapped them onto her face. “Thanks,” she muttered. She was surprised how much better she felt. She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror and was surprised at how different she looked with the sunglasses.
On the floor of the truck, next to the shift stick, were a few more hats like the ones the agents were wearing. She bent down and picked one up and shoved it on her head.
Moments later they pulled into the municipal airport. Leaving the truck behind a hangar they walked to where a small jet was waiting. Kay held back for a moment, suddenly scared. Agent Smith touched her elbow and urged her forward.
A man in a blue jacket helped her into the plane. The two agents climbed in too, and they settled into the seats. There were four rows of seats, two seats on each side. Other than Kay, the two agents, and the pilot, the plane was empty.
Kay buckled her seatbelt and closed her eyes. She’d been on big planes a couple of times, but never anything like this. Seconds later the jet was streaking up into the sky and Kay was pushed against the back of her seat by the force.
When the plane leveled off she opened her eyes. Both agents were watching her closely. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve flown,” she said. “So, where are we going?”
“It’s classified,” Agent Smith said politely.
“Well, how long will it take to get there, then?” Kay asked.
“About an hour,” he replied.
Kay was trying to work out the math in her head, figuring out how fast the jet probably traveled and therefore how many miles it would cover in an hour. She was drawing a mental circle of the radius of that distance to figure out where that would take her.
Agent Smith walked to the back and into a small room. A moment later he returned wearing his suit instead of the grubby work clothes. Then Agent Jones did the same. Both were still wearing the sunglasses.
“Would you like a snack? Something to drink?” asked Agent Jones and he rose from his chair. He walked forward and opened a small refrigerator. He pulled out a can of pop for himself and waited for the other two to answer.
“Toss me a Ginger Ale,” Agent Smith requested.
“Do you have Root Beer?” Kay asked. Agent Jones pulled one out and brought it to her, handing the Ginger Ale to Agent Smith while he was at it.
“There are doughnuts and cinnamon rolls in the box on the counter, and candy bars, nuts, and all kinds of things in the cabinet above it,” he said as he sat back down. He pulled a magazine off a stack on the seat next to him and settled in to read.
“You guys do a lot of these flights?” Kay asked Agent Smith, who was just sitting there. He nodded and she continued. “Does it get boring?”
“Sometimes. Usually Agent Jones and I play cards. We get some heated games of ‘War’ going!” he smiled.
“And I usually win,” said Agent Jones without looking up.
“That’s usually on long flights though. This one is a bunny hop. Wait until you have to go somewhere like Paris,” Agent Smith said.
“Paris?” Kay said, sitting straight upright, stunned.
“Oh, of course, and London and the usual places,” he said. “And sometimes places like the Middle East.”
“The Middle East? Isn’t that dangerous?” Kay asked, her heart in her throat.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t seen anything on the First Lady’s agenda that includes the Middle East,” he assured her.
Kay sipped her root beer, lost in thought. She must have dozed, because the jet was landing when she woke. There were buildings around the airport but she couldn’t tell where they were. She was annoyed with herself because she’d planned to watch out the window as they came in to the airport and try to guess.
She was ushered from the jet into a big black car. Her heart pounded. She was riding in one of those mysterious black cars important people rode in. Maybe a president had ridden in this very one! She laid her hand on the leather seat next to her leg. It felt… regal.
Her eyes raised toward the driver and the front of the car. Through the windshield as they turned at an intersection she caught a glimpse of a tall, white spire. With a sharp intake of breath she turned to Agent Smith. “We’re in Washington DC?”
The mirrored sunglasses looked at her. “It’s classified.”
She sat still, looking out the windows on both sides and in front, but she couldn’t identify any more landmarks before they turned through a gate, which was closed immediately after they passed. They emerged from the car and went through a plain white door.
They walked briskly down a hallway, took an elevator to another floor, down another hallway, and stopped by a door. Agent Smith placed his thumb on a pad and the door opened.
The room looked like a dressing room at a community theater. Clothing hung on long rods along one side of the room, and mirrors covered the other walls. Cosmetics and make-up tools were organized neatly all along a counter, and a beautician’s chair sat to one side.
The door opened behind them and a man and a woman entered. Agent Smith introduced them.
&nb
sp; “This is Gino, and this is Andrea,” he said. They shook hands. “Together they will re-create you as the First Lady.”
Gino and Andrea were already circling her. Then they stopped in front of her and discussed her face, lightly touching her cheekbones and chin. Agents Smith and Jones told Kay they would be nearby and to let them know if she needed anything, then excused themselves from the room.
“First, into the chair. We’ll start with your hair,” Gino said in an accented voice. ‘Italian?’ wondered Kay to herself.
She lost herself in the pleasure of having her hair washed and her scalp massaged. They worked together, then used a blow-drier and comb on her hair. They put a pin here and another there, and she recognized a hair style that the First Lady often wore. But even she could see the color wasn’t the same.
The Double Page 2