Commander in Chief

by J. A. Armstrong

  “Really?”

  “He doesn’t think so. He is; so is our son Cooper. Well, if what you like in art is trains and dinosaurs or genies.”

  Rick laughed. “Thanks again, Ms. Reid.”

  “JD,” Jameson said. She held out her hand again and shook his. “Just JD. And, thank you.” She started to walk away and turned back. “I’d love to hear that story sometime,” she told him.

  He watched as Jameson climbed back into the car. “What just happened?” he muttered.

  ***

  “Are you nervous?” Maureen asked Candace.

  “A little. I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”

  “I can’t even imagine. I know it hasn’t hit me. My daughter-in-law is actually going to be the president tomorrow.”

  “Somehow, hearing you say it makes it seem real.”

  “How’s JD holding up?”

  “You know Jameson; she’s been the picture of calm on the outside this week,” Candace said.

  “But?”

  “She’s nervous. I can tell. She’s also excited.”

  “She’s proud of you. We all are.”

  “I have a lot to do to earn that,” Candace said. “The election was the easy part.”

  “Says you.”

  “It’s the truth,” Candace offered.

  “And you? Are you excited?”

  “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use. More like awestruck.”

  Maureen smiled. “I still can’t imagine.”

  “Jameson keeps telling me to enjoy tomorrow.”

  “She’s right.”

  “I know. The truth is that there will be a million things waiting on my desk the moment we step through the White House doors.”

  “Regrets?” Maureen wondered.

  “I wish I could say yes, but no; I don’t regret any of it. I do understand that it’s not about elections any longer. The speeches do matter. Tomorrow matters. It sets the tone for my administration.”

  Maureen had heard Candace practicing her speech with Michelle. She thought it combined both lofty idealism and practical principle—the foundations of Candace’s campaign. She admired that about Candace. Candace could schmooze with the best of hobnob society. She exuded confidence and eloquence in her public demeanor, but she never appeared aloof or snobbish. And, Candace did not lie. Maureen knew as well as anyone that Candace couldn’t always offer details about her plans, but she always endeavored to be upfront about the spirit of her intentions and her beliefs. Maureen respected her daughter-in-law as a woman and as a policy-maker.

  “From what I heard, you have nothing to worry about.” Maureen offered.

  “Mmm. It’s difficult to address our issues and remain idealistic at times. It can make a person sound arrogant or it can instill a sense of optimism. It’s always a gamble,” Candace said. “Hopefully, it will speak to more people than those who carried me through the election, at least, to some of them.”

  Candace grew quiet. Maureen was curious where Candace’s thoughts had traveled.

  “I know it will take time,” Candace said. “For people to move past their prejudices, whatever they may be—that I’m a Democrat or that I’m a woman or that I’m a lesbian. Some never will. I know that. I can’t accept that. If I do, I’m in danger of falling into the trap called complacency. I haven’t taken the oath, and I see evidence of that malady everywhere.”

  “Complacency?”

  “Yes. Don’t get me wrong; I know the American people by and large believe that this town is self-absorbed. I wish I could say they’re wrong.”

  Maureen listened intently. She loved to discuss politics with Candace. As a history teacher, Jameson’s mother had always been fascinated by government. Political science classes and history books offered comparatively little insight when held up to a conversation with Candace. Candace had spent a lifetime around politics, and most of her adulthood holding office. She had a command of more than facts and figures, laws and traditions. Candace had developed an acute understanding of the way relationships motivated change. She also provided a unique perspective on government’s role in shaping public perception. It seemed to Maureen that Candace had been mulling over her many years of experience as she prepared to take office. She wondered if this transitional period had offered the next president any new revelations.

  Candace continued to share her thoughts. “I know people see us as removed from them. The truth is, we are. Most of us have been running campaigns and sitting in conference meetings, attending roll calls longer than many of our constituents have been voting.” She chuckled. “It’s not a lack of care that drives the stagnation in Washington. It is, I’m afraid, a lack of connection to the people who sent us here. It’s complacency. Too much comfort with what is familiar and not enough courage to pursue something new. We’ve lost our imagination, Maureen. Perhaps with it, we’ve also lost our resolve.”

  “Candace, I don’t mean to speak out of turn. I’ve watched you with people. Connecting to others is not a problem for you.”

  “No. But it would be easy for it to become mechanical. That doesn’t happen because people don’t care. There are so many moving parts. There is always the next campaign. There are competing agendas. It’s easy to get lost in all of it.”

  “Are you worried that people won’t come to the table?” Maureen asked.

  “Not worried—aware. The legislature needs to connect to my vision or they need to connect with me. If they don’t, I need to find a way to get their constituents to make that leap. That will force their hand. It’s not unlike campaigning. It is more nuanced, and the stakes are much higher. The battle has already begun. My agenda begins the moment I step onto that platform tomorrow. I know that.”

  Maureen regarded Candace thoughtfully. She sat in awe of Jameson’s wife. Candace was articulate and intelligent. Many people possessed those qualities. It was Candace’s earnest desire to make a difference that set her apart in Maureen’s eyes. Candace continued to connect people with issues and with her because she demanded she never forget that why she held office. She lacked hubris. “You know,” Maureen began. “I think there is one thing you left out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t have the seat you do,” Maureen offered. “I’m not meeting with Congressional leaders or heads of state. I’m not conversing with the president in the Oval Office. I sit at the kitchen table and watch from afar like the most people. I have an advantage over them. I get to sit across from you at my kitchen table from time to time. I know you, Candace. There is more than chaos at work, more than complacency. There’s also ego.”

  Candace smiled. Managing people’s egos was half the battle in a room full of politicians.

  “I don’t think anyone can get where you are without possessing confidence. The difference between confidence and hubris is measurable. I’ve never heard you speak with self-importance. You always talk about your role, not your rein.”

  Candace chuckled. “We do have some self-appointed kings and queens in our midst.”

  “I can’t imagine what you are feeling now. I can’t. I’ve tried. It has to be overwhelming. If anyone can make a difference, it’s you.”

  Candace took Maureen’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “After managing this family, and my daughter; the world should be a cinch.”

  “Maybe I can entice the world with my lasagna like I do this family.”

  “Or you could offer them wine.”

  Candace burst out laughing. “I might just add that to the top of my agenda.”

  ***

  Rick Blunt opened the door to his apartment and felt his jaw drop for the second time that day.

  “You must be Rick,” Michelle said.

  “Yeah.”

  Michelle chuckled at the realization the young man had recognized her immediately. “I still get to wander freely,” she said. “For the most part.” She gestured to the agent standing a few paces behind her. “Shell,” she introduced herself.r />
  “Hi. I’m sorry. It’s not every day you meet the president’s family.”

  “Well, we’re not quite the president’s family yet.”

  “You sound like Ms. Reid.”

  “JD’s pretty smart. Don’t ever tell her I admitted that.”

  He chuckled. “Come in. I was just about to wrap the canvas.”

  Michelle took a step inside. The painting immediately caught her attention. “Wow. That’s it?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s incredible.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. JD said you were studying law. Why? You’re like Picasso or something.”

  “Hardly,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that too.” Michelle watched as the young man wrapped the canvas in plastic and placed it in a cardboard shell. “My mom is going to flip when she sees that.”

  “Really?”

  Michelle laughed. “You like that word, huh?”

  “Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Nah. I’m a teacher by trade,” Michelle offered. “And a mom. That’s me.”

  “And, Candace Reid’s daughter.”

  “There is that.” Michelle grinned. “She’s just Mom to me,” Michelle said.

  “Yeah, not to most of us.”

  Michelle nodded. No matter how much time she spent on the campaign trail with her mother, she was never able to fully grasp the way people perceived Candace. “So, why law?”

  He sighed. “It’s not that interesting.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Rick hesitated.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m just curious. I like lawyers. My mom and dad both were lawyers.”

  “My father went to prison when I turned twenty,” Rick explained.

  “And that made you want to learn law?”

  “He didn’t have the money for an attorney.”

  Michelle sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It happens. It happens to addicts all the time,” he replied.

  “I don’t mean to pry; was it a drug conviction?”

  He nodded. “Third offense. They hit him with intent to sell. He’ll be in prison for another ten years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Art is great. I couldn’t do anything to help him as an artist. Painting was never going to help him.” He taped the box around the painting of Candace. “It’s all set.”

  Michelle reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t you want to open it?”

  “I trust it’s good,” he joked. He handed Michelle the box.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He walked Michelle to the door and opened it. “Umm,” he fumbled. “Tell your mother I’m glad she’s the one up there tomorrow.”

  Michelle gestured to the envelope in his hand. “Tell her yourself,” she said with a wink.

  He watched Michelle disappear with her escort down the hallway and opened the envelope. He unfolded a piece of paper and gasped at the tickets inside. Then his eyes fell to the writing.

  Rick,

  I enjoyed meeting you this afternoon. Your work is amazing. I know Candace is going to cherish it. I also know my wife; she’ll want to thank you herself. I hope you aren’t too busy tomorrow evening and can find someone to accompany you. I’d like you to be our guest at the Arts and Culture Ball. I’m sure it’ll be more colorful than some of the other functions we have to attend.

  I hope Shell didn’t give away all our family secrets. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Maybe you’d be willing to tell us your story. I’d love to hear it.

  Hope to see you tomorrow night. Thanks again.

  JD

  Rick fished in the envelope for the folded check. “Oh, my god,” he held his breath. His eyes scanned the comment line.

  It’s worth a lot more than two-hundred bucks.

  He shook his head. “Five-thousand dollars? Is she insane?” He laughed. “At least, I can afford a tux for the ball.”

  ***

  “Where did you disappear to?” Candace asked when Jameson walked into the bedroom they were sharing.

  “I didn’t disappear.”

  “You most certainly did.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Are you going to disappear again?”

  “I’m not Houdini. Just close your eyes.”

  Candace complied reluctantly.

  Jameson grabbed her gift for Candace from the hallway. She’d asked Michelle to wrap it for her. Shell may have delighted in giving Jameson a hard time; it seemed she understood that this gift was special. Jameson was amazed at the beautiful paper that covered the canvas. She was anxious to give it to Candace. She walked toward the bed where Candace was seated and placed the package on the floor at her feet. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  Candace‘s eyes narrowed at the colorful package. “What’s this?”

  “Open it,” Jameson suggested.

  “Jameson, you didn’t need to get me anything.”

  Jameson made no reply. She was intent on watching Candace’s expression as she unwrapped the picture.

  Candace tore away the paper carefully. “Jameson… Where did you … When did you…”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s… It’s gorgeous.”

  “Like you.”

  Candace smiled through watery eyes.

  “When I was out today, we passed a street vendor.” Jameson reached behind a chair and retrieved the items she’d bought earlier that day. She pulled out a T-shirt. “I saw this and I had to stop.”

  “You bought a T-shirt?”

  “No, I bought ten—one for each of us. And, some buttons for the kids.”

  Candace shook her head affectionately.

  “Anyway, I started talking to the kid who was selling them. He told me he painted the picture and turned it into merchandise.”

  “Industrious.”

  “I thought so too.” Jameson took a breath. “He was so nervous,” she chuckled. “He reminded me a bit of Cooper the first time I met him, only older.”

  Candace grinned.

  “I asked him if he had the original, and he did, so…”

  “I love it.”

  “I wanted you to have something special. It’s part of the reason I went out. I never expected to end up finding what I wanted from a kid selling T-shirts.”

  “Something tells me there is more to this story.”

  Jameson nodded. “I talked to him for a while. He’s a law student at Georgetown.”

  “Law?” Candace looked at the painting.

  “I know; I had the same reaction. He said he wanted to be an artist once. Now, he sells the stuff to help pay his tuition for law school.”

  “You liked him.”

  “I did. His name is Rick.”

  Candace took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Is it strange?”

  “What’s that?” Candace asked.

  “I feel like it was a sign—me asking Don to drive by The Capitol—finding that stand, meeting him.”

  “I don’t think it’s strange at all.”

  “I had Shell pick up the painting while we were at dinner.”

  Candace waited, knowing there was more to Jameson’s story.

  “I invited him to the Arts and Culture Ball.”

  Candace smiled brightly.

  “Is that okay?”

  Candace set the painting aside and made her way to Jameson. “It’s more than okay.”

  Jameson sighed with relief.

  “I love you.” Candace brought her lips to Jameson’s. “So much, Jameson.”

  “So, you like the painting?”

  “I love it. I love all the reasons you bought it. I love that you thought to invite that young man. You,” Candace took Jameson’s face in her hands. “Remind me every day why I
love you so much.”

  “It’s just a painting.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s the reasons you chose that painting. It’s the time you took to talk to that young man. It’s the thought you had to send Shell to get it while we were at dinner, and the gesture you made by inviting him tomorrow. I couldn’t ask for a better partner, Jameson. Not just as my wife, but as a parent, and as a president.”

  “I think you give me too much credit.”

  “Not at all,” Candace disagreed. Her fingertips caressed Jameson’s cheeks. “Let me make love to you.”

  Jameson lost her breath the moment Candace’s lips found hers again. When, she wondered, would that feeling end? Never.

  Every ounce of tension and apprehension faded into oblivion the moment Candace felt Jameson’s tongue dance with hers. Jameson moaned, and her lips became demanding, seeking more with urgency. Candace pulled back and tugged gently on Jameson’s bottom lip with her teeth. “Shh.”

  Candace’s fingertips trailed down the side of Jameson’s neck like a whisper, barely felt yet somehow making Jameson aware of every nerve in her body.

  “Candace,” Jameson sighed through her wife’s name.

  Candace’s body pulsed with desire fueled by raw emotion. The irony of love always astounded her. Jameson was both the wind in the sails of Candace’s life and the anchor that kept her steady. Contradiction became complement; it’s what made being in love intoxicating. Love never overshadowed the desire that burned in Candace’s veins when she touched Jameson. Love didn’t taper the power of lust; it ignited the spark between them. Candace had already become lost in the exploration of the woman she loved. She let her lips fall to the hollow of Jameson’s throat, her tongue sliding lower until it reached the opening of Jameson’s blouse.

  Jameson closed her eyes. She could feel Candace’s fingers tugging at the buttons of her shirt, methodically releasing them one by one. The warmth of Candace’s mouth continued on its downward path and lingered over Jameson’s cleavage until Candace released the final button. Jameson sighed when she felt the blouse pushed aside and off her shoulders. Less than a second passed and her bra pooled at her feet beside the discarded blouse. Her heart hammered wildly. She opened her eyes and met Candace’s passionate gaze. Could Candace be sexier? Jameson lost her breath at the sight. How had she managed to get this lucky? The woman looking at her was everything; not because Candace had accomplished amazing things or because she was a wonderful mother. It wasn’t because Candace was beautiful or intelligent. It wasn’t only the compassion that lingered in every touch Candace offered Jameson; it was all of it, every piece that drew Jameson to Candace. She’d often heard people say that it was possible to love more than one person. Jameson felt certain she would never love another human being as deeply or as completely as she loved her wife. She’d discovered love with Candace; love that hungered for closeness.