Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  Jack stood up. “I don’t,” he said softly, and pulled her into an embrace. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  “You have your workout,” she said.

  “It can wait.” He kissed her. “I have a different way to work out.”

  Hmm. “Have we done it in this room yet?”

  He tugged at her pajama top. “If you don’t know the answer to that question, we clearly haven’t done enough to christen this home with our highly questionable amorous activity.”

  He misunderstood her. “No,” she said. “We’ve been moving from room to room so frequently that I don’t remember.”

  Jack led her over to one of the chairs in the corner, plunking her down on his lap. “Have you been a good girl this year?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I saved American democracy. Is that good?”

  “I suppose.”

  She kissed his neck. “Other than that, I don’t know if I’ve done anything notable.”

  His hands moved steadily down her torso, around her waist, to her thighs. “Have you been naughty too?”

  She slid a finger under his waistband. “Always,” she murmured against his lips.

  Jack pulled her pajama top off. “This is the kind of therapy I love.”

  Caroline shifted on his lap until she was straddling his waist. Arm work, leg work, breakfast, piles and piles of presents…they could wait for as long as it took. She unbuttoned his shirt. “Me too.”

  *****

  “Worked up an appetite,” Jack said. “I’ll make you and the girls chocolate chip pancakes.”

  She rubbed a towel across his head, drying his hair. “The joint shower was nice. You sore?”

  He grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. “A little. Arm day is a bitch.”

  “It’ll get better,” she said, picking up a brush. “Will you wear the Santa hat at breakfast?”

  Jack sat sedately as she fixed his hair. “Only if you’re my little elf again.”

  She handed him a sweater. “Get dressed. I’ll wake the girls.”

  *****

  Mid-morning and her children were still asleep. My, how holiday habits evolved as the years went on. Two teenagers who would stay up until the break of dawn only to catch a few hours of sleep afterward.

  Marguerite and Sophie had taken over the newly decorated second floor. Much to Caroline’s chagrin, Mo had foregone an application to Notre Dame in lieu of Villanova. Probably because her stepfather was able to pull a few strings to get her admitted at the last minute. She said she wanted to be close to family, which was quite touching but Jack still rubbed it in every once in a while. If Caroline had been smarter about it, she should have tried to sell the kid on Temple or LaSalle.

  Marguerite spent her first semester of college in the dorms but was weighing her options for the next academic year. She came home every Sunday for dinner, more often if she was feeling homesick. She was trying to have as normal a college experience as possible, which was admirable considering that just about everyone knew who her parents were. Caroline was determined to keep her humble.

  Sophie settled in at a local private school, performing in the fall production of Guys and Dolls. She found her voice through art and made an eclectic group of friends. All things considered, Caroline’s daughters were about as well adjusted as could be expected, although they were also seeing a psychiatrist. It couldn’t hurt.

  When she wasn’t in treatment, Caroline distracted herself by writing. She wasn’t ready to put her experiences at The Fed into a memoir, but poetry and fiction gave her an inexplicable release from stress. She’d taken on painting as well, expressing her anger, frustration, and grief using vibrant colors set against dark backgrounds. Her paintings were probably a symbol for something. She’d have to ask her therapist.

  Caroline decided to be as obnoxious as possible, knocking on both of their doors as loudly as she could. “Rise and shine,” she called. “Breakfast won’t make itself.”

  Sleepy eyes and a few grumbles, but it didn’t take long for them to stumble into the kitchen. They almost instantly started helping Jack assemble the ingredients for the pancakes. This was what Caroline needed. This was her home. But she had more than a few things to accomplish on this holiday.

  “Speed it up, guys,” she said. “I’m meeting the president in an hour.”

  *****

  A brisk, cold, sunny Christmas morning. It had snowed almost every day the past week and there was a solid six inches on the ground. Caroline trudged through the snow covered grass, across the cemetery. She saw the cars parked around the Episcopal church in the distance. Last service of the morning. Caroline didn’t think about God all that much anymore, but she hoped he was with her today.

  The Secret Service stood clustered in the distance, which meant Christine had already arrived. Caroline had never been to this place before, but when her best friend asked for emotional support she gave it. She drew closer to the agents, who waved her past them.

  Two headstones, marking sites where no bodies lay. There had been a small memorial ceremony at the White House after Susannah returned from France, but Christine wanted something more permanent. Her daughter visited the site every now and again, planting flowers, laying wreaths, whatever seemed appropriate. Caroline had never been there. Until now. She knelt down and brushed the debris off the markers as Christine laid a small bouquet of flowers across each stone.

  “Good morning, Caroline,” she said. “It’s cold. I hope you didn’t soak through your jeans.”

  Mysteriously maternal aversion. “Do you want me to give you more time alone?” Caroline asked.

  Christine squeezed her hand. “No. I’d rather have you here. They turned out rather nicely, don’t you think?”

  The names were spelled out in cursive, both set above the Sullivan family coat of arms. Thomas Desmond Sullivan. Jessica Siobhan Sullivan.

  “He forced me to give her that middle name,” Christine said, shaking her finger at Jessica’s memorial. “It grew on me after a while but I hated it for a long, long time.”

  “I like it. I like the crest too. Lamh foistenach abu,” Caroline read. “Is that Gaelic?”

  “The family motto,” Christine said. “There are several different translations but it’s traditionally understood to mean ‘the gentle hand to victory.’” She rearranged the flowers on Tom’s headstone. “It seemed appropriate.”

  Caroline gave her a little hug. “It is.”

  Christine held out her wrist, drawing back her coat sleeve. “Gave myself a little Christmas present. I had this adjusted so I could wear it. Still a bit large but I don’t care.”

  Caroline looked closer. Tom’s watch. “It looks perfect.”

  “I miss them,” Christine whispered, a small sob escaping her lips.

  She gave Chrissy another hug, and didn’t bother letting go. “I miss them too. But they’re watching over you. Over us. They always have.”

  They didn’t speak again until they heard the sound of bells carried to the cemetery by the wind. The morning service had ended.

  “Susannah is trying to get me to go out with one of the older partners at her firm,” Christine said. “He reminds her of Thomas.”

  “Do you think you’re ready for that? I mean, emotionally?”

  “I don’t know.” Christine gave her a small smile. “I think he’s scared to go out with me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  She looked at the watch again. “Just a vibe I get from Susannah.”

  Caroline shrugged. “He’s probably afraid you’ll cut his dick off.”

  “Caroline!” she admonished. “Language! We’re in a cemetery. That Episcopal God over there can probably hear you too.”

  “If he’s anything like Catholic God, I think he’s used to me by now. But I’ll clean it up for you. He’s probably afraid you’ll cut off his member.”

  “Better. Do you think he’ll find me intimidating? Thomas never did.”

  “Let
’s see. You’re abrasive as hell and you’re a soon to be former President of the United States. Why on earth would he be intimidated by that?”

  Christine leaned in for a hug. She had gotten so much better at that now, especially after meeting her grandchildren for the first time. Spontaneous displays of affection had become commonplace. “I love you, you know.”

  Caroline tweaked her scarf. “I do.”

  Christine held onto her for a long time before pulling away and wiping her eyes. “We can go now.”

  They hadn’t been there for more than a half an hour. It was cold but not unbearable. “We can stay longer if you want.”

  “I want to go. You’re going to need help making that big Christmas meal.” She sniffled. “I can come back whenever I need to.”

  She had a few more weeks before Roger Bailey would be sworn in as the new, legitimately chosen President-elect. As a show of goodwill and respect, he’d offered Brian Capwell his choice of positions in his administration. It had been a close election but for the first time in as long as anyone could remember, it was relatively clean, positive, and focused on policy as opposed to personality. Caroline had high hopes that Bailey could undo the damage done by Santos. Some of it might never come to pass but good people were bound and determined to try.

  “Traffic from the church has cleared out,” Caroline observed.

  They’d both skipped Mass the previous evening. All of them had. No need to keep up appearances. They could go back when they were ready, if that day came.

  “Yes,” Christine said. “Should my people follow your people?”

  “You mean, should your official super special limo follow my rather ordinary Nissan back to my altogether garish estate?”

  Christine took her hand, smiling at her as they walked to their cars. “Works for me,” she said. “I call the mashed potatoes.”

  *****

  Susannah, Jacob, and the twins spent Christmas at Jack and Caroline’s along with Christine. Christine’s relationship with Susannah’s husband had warmed to the point that she was quite nice to Jacob during the afternoon and evening. Susannah’s children were just toddlers, bursting with energy. Sophie got a kick out of them and Susannah appreciated the break. When Susannah and Jacob packed up the kids and said their goodbyes, Christine managed to slip out the door as well, promising Caroline she’d swing by the next day so they could spend more quality time together. She’d given Caroline Tom’s Notre Dame letter jacket and a host of other collectibles, making a cryptic statement about how she suspected Caroline would find an appropriate place for them.

  Even though Christine’s term would end after barely seven months in office, a number of activists groups had solicited her for speaking engagements, and she was likely to be out of state off and on for much of the new year. Requests had been pouring in for Caroline and Jack as well, but they had turned them all down. So far.

  Caroline had consumed far too much Moscato, and Marguerite and Sophie had stuffed themselves with cookies and pie. But they still had a few presents to open. She and Jack had told the girls not to get them anything. Aside from an updated family photo, they didn’t need anything else. Mo and Feef had remained tight lipped. Caroline was convinced they were up to something, especially after they’d spent some time hidden away with Susannah in the library after Christmas dinner.

  New laptops for the girls. Some new clothes. And Caroline had rather comically placed a small card inside a giant box, which Marguerite allowed Sophie to open.

  She pulled out the card and read it. “A dog?” she asked. “Really?”

  “Really. Whatever kind you want, but I’m very pro-shelter dogs, so you know.”

  Sophie threw her arms around her. “I want a puppy. I don’t care if it’s a mutt. I’ll take care of it.”

  “You’d better,” Jack said. “I’m not walking a damn dog across the grounds in the winter. Pup’s gonna have to learn that snow is cold on his own.”

  “Oh, we’ll need puppy pads, and toys, and…oh my God this is going to be so much fun!”

  “Calm down, Soph. I bet the pound isn’t even open until like two days from now. Breathe.” Marguerite slid an envelope from under the tree. “We have to give mom and Jack their present.” She handed it to Jack. “It’s more for you but I think mom will appreciate it too.”

  Interesting. “Whatever could it be?” Caroline asked.

  Jack slid his finger across the seal. “Only one way to find out.” He took a stack of papers out, examining them before handing them to Caroline. He didn’t speak.

  “Jack?” she asked softly.

  “Just look,” Sophie said.

  She wasn’t practicing anymore, but Caroline could whip her way through legal documents when she needed to. “These are consent forms,” she said, turning to Jack. He had his hand over his eyes. “I-”

  Marguerite crouched on the floor next to the couch. “It’s probably just a formality. I just thought-”

  “We thought,” Sophie corrected. “It was my idea too. And Susannah helped.”

  “We want you to adopt us,” Marguerite said. “If that’s all right.”

  He hadn’t spoken but was breathing heavily. “Jack?” Caroline whispered. “Are you okay?”

  He brought his head up. There were tears in his eyes. “I must say I didn’t expect this at all.”

  Sophie grinned. “We figured we’d take you by surprise.”

  It would indeed be a formality but an important symbolic gesture. Caroline and Jack had considered doing it themselves after they’d gotten married and updated their wills. In the end they’d decided against it because they didn’t want to diminish the girls’ relationship with Nicky. But time and experience had a way of changing perspectives.

  “I’m damn surprised, I’ll give you that.” Jack wiped his eyes. “Are you sure this is what you really want?”

  “Well, I reserve my right to change my mind during the hearing-” Marguerite yelped when Sophie hit her arm. “But I doubt that will happen.”

  “I’m not your father. I would never want to take his place. I-”

  “We know,” Sophie said. “But you’re our dad in every way that counts. Daddy would understand. It’s what he’d want too, I’m sure of it.”

  Jack turned to Caroline. “Are you on board with this, sweetheart?”

  Caroline bit her lip. “I didn’t know they were planning this, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m in support of it if you are.”

  The girls both leaned in for hugs, and Jack let a little sniffle out. “I’m very much in favor of it. Thank you.”

  Marguerite kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas.” She turned to Sophie. “They both cried. You owe me ten bucks.”

  “Don’t ruin a good moment,” Sophie said, snuggling in between her parents. “This is the best Christmas ever.”

  Caroline couldn’t think of any reason to disagree.

  *****

  After a few more tears and a lot more conversation, the girls slunk off to bed after gorging on candy canes and cookies. Caroline and Jack retired to the library, which was still her favorite room in the house. It hadn’t been in terrible shape when they moved in, but they renovated anyway. The cherry wood shone a little brighter, the piano was tuned, the fireplace lit. She was looking forward to some light reading before retiring to her own bedroom.

  “Early night,” Caroline said. “We must have worn them out.”

  “I suspect they went upstairs so we could have some time alone.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind? I left my elf hat upstairs.”

  “Close your eyes,” Jack said. “Time to revive an old tradition.”

  She didn’t need any more jewelry. She had enough. He wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Jack-”

  “Indulge me.” He guided her across the library. It was a short walk. “Open your eyes,” he said.

  They were standing in front of the door to his old study. “What’s going on?”

&nb
sp; “You have the least patience of anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll have you know that I showed this to Christine earlier today and she approves.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Caroline asked.

  “You tell me. Close your eyes again.”

  Maybe he should have blindfolded her. All his directions were a pain. He pulled her through the door, toward the middle of the room. He squeezed her shoulders. “Open them,” he said softly.

  Caroline looked around the room and gasped. The walls were covered from almost floor to ceiling with pictures, magazine covers, plaques, and baseball jerseys. Pictures of her and Jack, of her and Nicky and the girls, of Christine and Tom and Jess. Jen and Katie and Ellen. A great shot of Caroline and Bob at a campaign stop. Her favorite pieces of correspondence. Mementos from her time in Baltimore as a state prosecutor, and from her stint as a federal prosecutor. Her diplomas and awards, including her Congressional Gold Medal and both presidential commendations. Bookshelves filled with sports memorabilia and her favorite novels and nonfiction. Her beloved Wrigley Field turnstile was set up in the corner of the room. A few jerseys hung on mannequins, with one left empty. Perfect for a Notre Dame letter jacket.

  She bit her lip. “Jack, where did you – how?”

  “I went through the house in Rockville,” he said.

  Caroline had refused to go inside after seeing the condition the living room and entryway had been in. It had hurt too much. She and Sophie had sprawled out on the grass in the front yard trying not to cry while Marguerite and Jack had taken a quick look around, declaring the home unlivable. It had solidified her decision to relocate permanently to Philadelphia. They maintained their brownstone in D.C. but Washington held very little appeal to her.

  She put her hand over her mouth. “But I thought-”

  “Mo and I went back and rummaged through the debris. We saved what we could. I got Marquette and Notre Dame to send me new diplomas.”

  He’d packed a lot into one room. She could spend hours getting lost in all that memorabilia. All those memories. She absently tapped the top of a Cubs bobblehead sitting on one of the bookshelves. “This is very impressive.”

  Jack brought his arms around her from behind. “It was hard. A lot of things were destroyed. I had to recreate some photos. I hope this is okay. I don’t want to make you sad.”