Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  “You have found a way to keep my children entertained. Congratulations. Go prepare for your big speech. Try not to be too sappy.” Caroline laughed as Christine spun around and walked away. “I think the Commander in Chief just stuck her tongue out at me. She’s lost my vote.”

  “She’s not running, sweetheart.”

  “That’s hardly the point.” Caroline crouched next to his chair, double checking the brake. She did it every time they went anywhere. It drove Jack crazy.

  “Christine already set it,” he said. “You don’t trust her?”

  “She’s not used to doing it. I don’t want you to be able to roll away without me.”

  Humor. That was how they dealt with everything lately. It was far better than the bad feelings they’d fostered during their first awkward moments together in California. And Jack needed humor. He’d spent a couple of weeks in the hospital and wasn’t thrilled when they moved into his Georgetown brownstone and discovered how many stairs it had. So many things they’d never considered until they became issues.

  The place was still in decent condition, and she and Jack made do with the first floor guest bedroom. They left the upstairs to the girls. It was good enough until they figured out their next step. Almost all of their possessions in the Pennsylvania’s Governor’s Mansion had been destroyed by Jack’s successor. But no matter. They were only things. Jack and Caroline reserved all sentimentality for their real homes. They still hadn’t checked on their houses in Rockville and Philadelphia. Too much to handle emotionally. Maybe when their plate was less full.

  Caroline was going to focus on the positive. She was seeing her friends. She was spending time with her bestie. Christine had encouraged them to stay in the White House with her but Caroline didn’t want that amount of attention. The summer would end soon and campaign season would kick into high gear. Christine was still trying to undo all the damage Santos had done and had tight security at all times.

  After Santos’ death, there was no need to keep the ICC indictments under wraps. They were unsealed and released to the public, but not until Caroline had the opportunity to explain their contents to her children. Thankfully, it hadn’t changed their behavior toward her. If anything, she’d noticed an increase in affection and kind words.

  President Sullivan had a generally open door for the press, but they had to prove themselves again. She never declined any credentials but those who had turned a blind eye or normalized the actions of the Santos Administration garnered a closer look. Chrissy was smart. She knew who to trust. The people who had remained outspoken, who had done so at risk of livelihood and life, were given a front row seat at all her press conferences. She was ridiculously transparent in all her dealings, which had gone a long way in repairing the relationship between the media, the citizenry, and public servants. Yes, Caroline was fiercely proud of her president. The kind of world leader who would wheel an injured hero down the halls of the White House when there were plenty of other people around to do it.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked Jack.

  “I’d feel much better if you were grinding against me.”

  “Jack, really. What about the girls?”

  He cupped her chin in his palm. “You think I care anymore?”

  Eh, they’d probably just ignore it. “Will it hurt your leg?”

  “I’ll deal with it,” he said, smiling as she slid onto his lap. She was about to adjust herself and lean in for a kiss when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “None of that, Princess. We don’t want to watch you two getting busy on such an important occasion.”

  Oh, that lost moment would be regained once they got home. Maybe Caroline could convince the girls to go out for a very long dinner. She grabbed Jones in a huge hug. “Hi.”

  Marguerite strode over. “Thank God. You saved my eyes.”

  He reached in to give her and Sophie hugs, before shaking Jack’s hand. “Sir,” he said. “How you feeling?”

  “Getting there.”

  Honest to a fault, her husband. “Where are the guys?” she asked.

  Jones released her and stepped back. “Crunch is parking the car. Hard to find a space close to the White House, you know.”

  Caroline slapped him on the arm. “Seriously. Where are they?”

  “Gig had to take a piss,” Crunch said, coming up behind her. “Didn’t want to be stepping back and forth on his lumbering feet while the president said sweet things about him.” He kissed her on the cheek. “You look good.”

  A compliment that today of all days she would take in stride. “Thanks.”

  Jack held up his hand. “Ah, here are Mr. Gigowski and Dr. Haddad, bringing up the rear.” He accepted the hug Natalie offered. “How’d you get stuck with the three of them?”

  “We were staying at the same hotel so what the hell,” Gig said, though Caroline could swear she saw his face redden.

  “Glad you’re all here.” Caroline tipped her head up to look over his shoulder. “Anyone else coming?”

  “Several of our colleagues couldn’t make it,” Natalie said. “The president is having a separate ceremony in California later this month.”

  Natalie looked tired. And she was missing someone. “Where’s Mark?” Caroline asked.

  “He, uh, stayed behind.”

  Caroline put her arm around her. “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what you think it does. I want to finish my residency, maybe move closer to you guys and…he wanted to settle in California.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She wondered why Natalie hadn’t called. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Natalie said. “The guys helped cheer me up last night.”

  “We’re gonna go drinking after this shit is over,” Jones said. “My treat.”

  Gig gave Caroline a big bear hug, completing the affection trifecta. “How ya doing?”

  “I miss you guys,” Caroline said. “You need to visit more often.”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” Jones pointed out. “You can always come to Baltimore.”

  “I know. I just miss you.”

  Jones and Crunch had gotten an apartment near the Inner Harbor. They seemed to be getting by. Gig had gone back to Chicago to run a private security firm. Funny how so many things had happened in a matter of weeks. Life kept changing and she couldn’t keep up with it. She was happy to be back in the United States but hadn’t anticipated how much she’d wish she could take everyone with her when she came home. Maybe she could ask Jack if they all could stay in the mansion in Philadelphia once they completed the inevitable renovations that would have to take place. Caroline spontaneously gave Jones another hug.

  “Do you miss me most of all?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Fucking A.” He pumped his fist and turned to Crunch. “That makes me the Scarecrow.”

  “I’m the Tin Man,” Gig said.

  “Yup,” Caroline agreed.

  “Son of a bitch.” Crunch shoved Jones. “You made me the goddamn Cowardly Lion?”

  “Hey, man.” Jones sounded offended. “Don’t shove me, shove her. Not my fault she likes me better.”

  Caroline nudged Crunch playfully. “You know I love you.”

  Crunch nudged her back. “Yeah, I know.”

  Gig grinned. “The Cowardly Lion isn’t so bad. He has courage. You’ve got a ton of that.”

  “You all do,” Caroline said. “Jack and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

  “Hear, hear.” Natalie raised an imaginary glass.

  “Is Aunt Chrissy going to get us soon?” Sophie asked. “I’d rather wander around the East Room than listen to all of your inside jokes.”

  “Are we that intolerable?” Caroline said.

  Marguerite winked at her mother. “We are counting the minutes until we can leave.”

  She might have sounded mildly annoyed, but Caroline knew her daughter loved being in the heart of American gover
nment. There were plenty of things to work on. Federal offices had to be rebuilt. New Supreme Court Justices had to be appointed, temporary Cabinet positions assigned. State governors had to appoint temporary members of Congress. The election scheduled for November included almost every available House and Senate seat. Christine had juggled it all with a short-term Congress and a dearth of qualified people. Caroline and Jack occasionally offered assistance when asked, but neither one felt comfortable taking on a large role. This was Christine’s show. They wanted a break.

  “I’m sure someone will be in to retrieve us soon,” Caroline said.

  Of course, the instant she said that Christine poked her head in the door. “They’re assembling the press in the East Room. A staffer will be here shortly to lead you in.”

  “What about you?”

  “I get introduced all by myself. Jealous?”

  Caroline decided to mess with her light mood. Just a little. “No,” she said. “Incredibly proud.”

  “Honestly, Punky. You do that on purpose.”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “The room is full of cameras. Ready to face your adoring press?”

  The president may have forgiven the media but Caroline was not so gracious. She and Jack had been bombarded with requests for interviews and they’d declined them all. Maybe someday. Or maybe she’d just write a memoir and be done with it. She’d be damned if she’d let them control her narrative. “Don’t remind me.”

  Christine straightened her hair. “Do I look all right?”

  Like she didn’t always look incredibly beautiful. “It doesn’t matter.” Caroline squeezed Jack’s upper arm. “We all know who they’re here for.”

  Christine sat down in one of the chairs in the corner, pulling a few notecards from her jacket. “If you don’t mind, I have to change this speech to make sure I don’t accidentally say anything nice about you.”

  Marguerite handed her a pen. “I’ll help.”

  *****

  The East Room was crowded, the press corps silent. Caroline tried to ignore the cameras. Jack looked uncomfortable. He had to be. FDR refused to be photographed in a wheelchair, and Jack was likely confronting a lot of the same feelings. He wouldn’t always need to use it; when he was at home, he used a cane or simply hobbled from room to room. But when long distances were involved, he was forced to utilize the chair. Despite his exuberant mood, he despised having to use it. Caroline had caught him kicking the wheels in frustration on more than one occasion, usually after a brutal physical therapy session.

  She reached for his hand, and he kissed the back of it. “Nervous?” she whispered.

  “Not a chance.”

  The doors to the East Room opened, and Christine was announced. How cheesy. She was probably loving every minute of the pomp and circumstance.

  “Help me,” Jack said. “I want to stand.”

  He didn’t have to do that. Christine understood. “Jack-”

  “Help me stand for her.”

  Caroline leaned over and put her arm around his waist, helping him to his feet. He stood proud and strong, though she saw his injured leg shaking slightly. She tightened her grip. “You’re sitting down as soon as she gets here.”

  “I’ll do what I want, sweetheart.”

  It wasn’t worth arguing over. She knew why he wanted to stand and wouldn’t take that moment away from him. Not even if it meant that later tonight she’d be icing his leg and he’d be doing his best to convince her he wasn’t in pain.

  Christine crossed the stage, shaking all of their hands in turn. She pulled her edited notecards out of her jacket pocket, stepping to the podium.

  “Well,” she said. “It’s time these dedicated Americans get the recognition they deserve. Shall we?”

  Epilogue

  Five Months Later

  Caroline sat up in bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. She did that sometimes. More than sometimes. More often than she’d care to admit, at least to Jack. She had a hard time sleeping, though they’d returned to the security of their estate in Philadelphia. The nightmares still came, except now they were mostly about her husband. And the Oval Office. In all the times she visited Christine, she couldn’t quite bring herself to enter that room. Chrissy understood. She herself had temporarily relocated to the East Wing for the first few months she was in the White House, too haunted by what had happened on the other side of the building.

  Powell and Murdock were still awaiting trial in The Hague, which gave Caroline good reason to see a therapist regularly. A real one, as she jokingly told Natalie. To her great joy Natalie had moved to New York City, so she was a short train or car ride away. Natalie was finally completing her residency at Columbia. She hadn’t completely gotten over Mark, said she wasn’t ready for a relationship, but Caroline knew she’d move on eventually.

  She placed her hand on Jack’s stomach. He didn’t stir. Nowadays he slept sounder than she ever could. The pain meds helped. His hair hung lazily over his eyes, but it wasn't enough to wake him up. She brushed it away anyway, curling toward him and wrapping her arm around his waist. She closed her eyes, might have drifted off for a moment, until she felt both of his arms circling her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She yawned. “Good morning.”

  He tucked one arm under the back of his head. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been awake for a while?”

  “You've been watching me sleep for years. Thought I'd return the favor.”

  “Were you afraid I'd run away?”

  She didn't like when he made self-effacing jokes like that. Not when he couldn’t even jog yet. “Of course not.”

  Jack rolled over to get out of bed and she was instantly at his side. “Caroline, really,” he said. “I don't need your help.”

  He didn't say 'not anymore,' but she heard it anyway. Months of rehabilitation had produced positive results but her husband usually walked with a cane. The specialists didn't know how many surgeries it would take or whether they'd ever get the results Jack wanted.

  She supposed she could count her blessings that they were still able to engage in as much adventurous sex as they did. Not that it mattered to her. They could have found a way around it. Jack said he didn’t care how much mobility he got back, as long as he could kneel down between her legs for extended periods of time. Caroline would have found such a statement flattering, except he said it in front of his doctor during their last office visit.

  She was hoping the doctor would forget by the next time they saw him. Was that something he’d put in his notes? Maybe she would skip that appointment. She could find a plausible excuse. Although Jack was male enough that she almost had to be there, too afraid he wouldn’t verbalize his concerns on his own. He was a proud man, convinced his body wanted to do more than it could. His ambitious view of his level of physical activity would need a few more surgeries to come to fruition.

  In the end, it was immaterial. Whenever they encountered friction she’d just tell herself the one thing that always kept her going. He’s alive. We’re both alive.

  “Get ready for the day,” he said. “I’m not doing my weights alone.”

  He hardly ever did. She was more than happy to spend the time with him, even when he was yelling, when he was frustrated, when he was spouting profanity after profanity in an effort to get through all his repetitions. Caroline threw her hair back in a ponytail. “Fantastic. Let’s get it out of the way before the girls get up.”

  They’d spent an ungodly amount of money renovating their estate. It hadn’t been in terrible shape when they moved in, but Caroline wanted it fitted to accommodate Jack’s ever changing condition. They took the ballroom down to the studs and converted it into a giant master suite with walk-in closets, a well-apportioned bathroom, and a large area for physical therapy. A therapist came in three days a week; otherwise, it was up to Caroline to keep Jack motivated. She did it through positive reinforcement, but he had his moments. If he snapped at her she’
d snap back, and he’d get the message pretty quickly. She had a feeling he wouldn’t snap at her today.

  Their bathroom had Jack and Jill doors, with one leading to the master bedroom and the other leading to the therapy room. An additional study lay beyond their bedroom. Caroline hoped the therapy room would soon just be a workout room, but that was likely months or years down the road.

  “Why don’t you try walking without the cane?” she asked. “It’s not long.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re going to push it already?”

  “May as well get you mad so you can make it up to me later.”

  He rested his cane against the wall next to the nightstand. “Fine.”

  She helped him. He didn’t complain, didn’t tell her to stop. But her help was constantly changing. A few months ago he’d had to lean on her for support, and her back would hurt for hours afterward. But today he only took her hand, occasionally balancing himself on the bathroom vanity or the shower railing. Standing unsteadily as they both brushed their teeth, washed their faces, went through the morning refresh. It took a few minutes to get to the first machine.

  “Arms first?” she asked.

  He grumbled something she couldn’t make out. Not a good start.

  “Hold on,” she said, and retrieved two hats from the bedroom. “Put this on.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. “What is this?”

  She maneuvered him onto the first machine, plopping the red and white hat onto his head. “You’re Santa, I’m the elf,” she said.

  “Since when do elves get to boss Santa around?” he asked. “I want the green hat.”

  Caroline kissed him. “Don’t be obstinate. Santa knows better than to be naughty.”

  He patted her ass affectionately. “If I do my exercises, will the helper elf sit on my lap and tell me what she wants?”

  She smiled at him. “I already have everything I want.”