“You mean like a driver's license?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid they'd hear it.
“That would be fine.”
“I don't have one. Someone stole my purse a couple of days ago when I was at a Laundromat.” She swallowed. “Is that what this is about? Did you find my purse?”
She saw their hesitation. They thought they had her, but they weren't absolutely certain. A spark of hope flared inside her. If she'd been positively identified, there'd be a battalion of agents here, not just these two.
“We'd like to talk with you privately, ma'am. Could we go inside?”
Once she let them in the house, they could interrogate her for hours. “I'd rather talk here.”
Mat came roaring up like the cavalry. His T-shirt clung to his chest and one of his sweat socks had collapsed near his ankle. “What's going on?”
“I—I think they found my purse,” she managed.
Mat didn't miss a beat. He immediately turned to confront them. “Do you have her purse?”
Neither agent responded. Instead, the woman asked for his driver's license.
Lucy, looking wide-eyed and nervous, ran up as he handed it over. She had the basketball clutched to her chest as if it were a life jacket. She recognized authority when she saw it, and Nealy realized she thought they were after her. “It's okay, Luce. They want to talk to me.”
“Why?”
“Do you have any identification at all, ma'am?” Agent Williams asked her.
“Everything was in my purse.”
“She's my wife,” Mat said. “Nell Jorik. That's all the identification you need.”
The female agent gave him a hard look. “Mr. Jorik, we happen to know you're single.”
“I was until a month ago. Nell and I got married in Mexico. And why do you know anything about me at all?”
“Whose children are these, sir?”
“My ex-wife's. She died about six weeks ago.”
Lucy crept closer to Nealy.
Williams spoke. “Ma'am, could we step inside so we can talk in private?”
She shook her head. “No, the place is a mess.”
She could see that they wanted to press the issue, and she blessed the Fourth Amendment. She decided to take a chance. “Luce, this is Agent DeLucca and Agent Williams. They're looking for Cornelia Case.”
“And they think you're her?”
“I guess.”
All the tension left Lucy's body. “Nell's not Mrs. Case! This is because she was in that contest, isn't it? That was my idea because I wanted to win a television so my baby sister could watch Teletubbies, but all I got was a power drill.“ She turned to Nealy. ”I didn't mean to get you in trouble.”
“You didn't get me in trouble.” Nealy felt a twist of guilt. Lucy was defending her out of perfect innocence.
The agents exchanged glances. They knew something wasn't right, but Lucy's obvious sincerity had been effective, and they still weren't certain of Nealy's identity.
The female agent gave her a woman-to-woman look designed to inspire camaraderie. “You'd really help us out if we could sit down in the house and talk this through.”
“There's nothing to talk about,” Mr. Tough Guy said. “You want in the house, you come back with a search warrant.”
Williams gazed at Nealy. “It seems to me that someone who doesn't have anything to hide would be more cooperative.”
“It seems to me that you should have better things to do than hassle a pregnant woman,” Mat countered.
Nealy stepped in before he got himself arrested. “Maybe you'd better go. We can't help you.”
Agent DeLucca gave her a long, clear-eyed gaze, then turned to Lucy. “How long have you known . .. Mrs. Jorik?”
“About a week. But she's nice and everything, and she wouldn't do anything wrong.”
“So you just met her?”
Lucy nodded slowly.
“You don't have to talk to them, Luce,” Mat interrupted. “Go on inside.”
Lucy looked confused, but she did as he asked. Button squirmed in Nealy's arms and reached toward Mat. “Da...”
He took her.
“Boy or a girl?” Agent DeLucca asked, glancing toward Nealy's stomach.
“Boy,” Mat said without hesitation. “For sure.”
Nealy pressed her hand to the small of her back and tried to look frail. “He's a big baby, and I've been having a hard time. I'm not really supposed to walk around too much.”
Mat slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Why don't you go on in, honey, and lie down?”
“I think I will. Sorry I couldn't help.” She gave the agents what she hoped was a wan smile and turned away.
“MA!” Button squealed at the top of her small lungs.
Nealy turned back.
Button threw up her arms—So big—then reached out.
She took her from Mat and buried her lips in that dandelion hair.
* * *
Neither Toni nor Jason spoke as they drove away from the house. Toni took a left when they reached the main drag, then pulled into a KFC parking lot. She found a place off to the side, turned off the ignition, and stared through the windshield at the Burger King across the street.
Jason finally broke the silence. “It's her.”
“Did you see a freckle by her eyebrow?”
“She was wearing too much makeup.”
“She's pregnant! Barbara Shields didn't say a damn thing about that!”
Toni reached for her cell phone, and a few minutes later she had Shields on the phone. Their conversation was short and to the point. When she hung up, she looked over at Jason.
“At first she said it wasn't possible. Then she admitted she didn't get a clear look at her stomach because the baby was in the car seat, along with some groceries. And Jorik blocked her view when he stepped in front of her to pay.”
“Damn.”
“You're right. It is her,” Toni said.
“She sure doesn't want to be found.”
“Did you see the way she looked at those kids? Like they were her own.”
“Maybe she isn't Aurora.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Do you believe that?”
“I don't know what I believe.”
They watched two businessmen come out of the restaurant and walk toward a new Camry.
“We can lift some prints from the door of the motor home, but we'll have to wait until dark to do it,”
Toni said.
Jason gazed straight ahead and asked the question that was on both their minds. “Are we going to contact the boss now or later?”
“Do you want to tell Ken that we talked with her but still aren't sure if we have Aurora?”
“Not particularly.”
“Neither do I.” She reached for her sunglasses. “Let's give ourselves a couple of hours and see what else we can come up with.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
* * *
Mat walked out onto the sunporch and regarded Nealy grimly. “Looks like the jig's up.”
She pressed her lips to the baby's soft cheek, trying to shut everything out except this wiggly little bundle.
“I'm sure Button didn't know what she was saying when she called me ma.”
“Hard to tell.” The expression in his eyes mirrored her own feelings. “Nealy, they've got you.”
“Not yet. They don't know for sure. If they did, this place would be swarming with Secret Service.”
“The day's still young.”
She gave him her best attempt at a cheeky smile. “You were coming on out there like Public Enemy Number One.”
“I've always wanted to talk back to cops, and I decided this was the best chance I'd ever get. As long as I'm with you, I figure I've got diplomatic immunity.”
“I wouldn't push it.” She gazed out into the backyard. “I need to find Lucy.”
He gave her a long slow look. “Are you going to tell her?”
“I used
her out there. Now I have to make up for it.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. I have to do this by myself.”
She searched the house and the motor home before she found Lucy sitting in the hollyhocks that grew behind the garage. Her knees were tucked against her chest, her shoulders bowed.
Nealy eased down next to her. “I've been looking for you.”
At first Lucy didn't respond. When she finally glanced over at Nealy, her expression was wary. “Did they come here because of your husband?”
“Sort of.” She took a deep breath. “But not the husband I told you about.”
“What do you mean?”
Nealy watched a pair of bumblebees explore the skirt of a bright yellow hollyhock blossom. “My husband was President Case, Luce.”
“No!”
“I'm sorry.”
She jumped to her feet. “You're lying. You're just saying this. You're Nell! You're—” Her voice broke. “Just say you're Nell.”
“I can't. I'm Cornelia Case.”
Lucy's eyes filled with tears. “You lied to us. You lied to all of us.”
“I know. I'm sorry.”
“Did you tell Mat?”
“He figured it out a couple of days ago.”
“And nobody told me.”
“We couldn't.”
Lucy was smart, and she already understood exactly what this meant to her. A shudder passed through her. “You won't marry him now, will you?”
Her insides cramped. “There was never a question of the two of us getting married.”
“Yes, there was!” Her lips trembled, and she looked as if her entire world had crumbled. “You like him! You liked him a lot! And you cared about me and Button!”
“I still care. This doesn't change the way I feel about the two of you.”
“But this means you won't ever marry Mat. Not after you were married to the President. And somebody like you wouldn't ever adopt Button.”
“Lucy, let me explain ...”
But Lucy didn't want to hear any explanations. She was already running toward the house.
First Lady
19
Mat found Nealy in the hollyhocks a short time later. He sat beside her in the same place Lucy had been, except he was crushing part of a plant. He'd taken a quick shower and his damp hair had finger marks where he'd run his hand through it. Drawing up his knees, he propped his forearms on top and gazed over at her. “I'm guessing you've had better days.”
Nealy rubbed her eyes. “What's Lucy doing now?”
“Charlie showed up to take her swimming right after she ran into the house. At first she told him she wouldn't go, but he said Bertis was making fudge and her feelings would be hurt, so she grabbed Button and they took off.”
“You let her take Button?”
“Lucy protects Button better than the Secret Service protected you.” He straightened one leg, gazed out into the backyard of the house behind them. “And the baby needs time away from us.”
“What do you mean?”
“She's ...” He looked uncomfortable. “She's getting pretty attached.”
Even though she knew what he meant, a chill crept through her. “Babies are supposed to get attached. That's what being a baby is all about.”
“Nealy . . .”
She rose to her feet. “People are supposed to get attached.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
She walked away from him and hurried into the house. As soon as she got inside, she went upstairs to put away her clothes, anything to keep from thinking, but she heard his tread on the steps.
The bed was still rumpled, the place where they'd made love last night. Things like making beds had always been done for her, and she kept forgetting she needed to do it for herself.
He stopped inside the door. “I can't keep those kids. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep them.”
She grabbed the sheet and pulled it up. “You should have seen Lucy's face when I told her who I was. She's built this fantasy around the two of us. I know we both told her it wasn't realistic, but she refused to believe it. She thought if she clung to her dreams hard enough, she could make them come true.”
“That's not our problem.”
Her frustration boiled over, and she rounded on him. “What's so great about that manly, solitary life you're trying so hard to get back to? Tell me, Mat. What's so great about a life that doesn't include them?” And me, she wanted to cry. What's so great about a life without me?
“You're not being fair,” he said steadily.
“I don't care! I saw Lucy's face, and fair doesn't do it for me right now.”
“I don't have to justify my life to you.”
She turned away from him, busied herself with the bed. “No, you don't.”
“Listen to me, Nealy. I didn't make this situation. It was forced on me.”
“Yes, I believe you've mentioned that before.” The sharpness in her voice came from pain. Maybe they'd only been together for a week, but during that time, they'd been a family. While that bond was a burden to him, it meant everything to her.
“Is this about the kids or is it about us?”
He didn't have a high tolerance for subtlety, and she should have known he'd plunge right in.
“There isn't any us,” she managed, praying he'd disagree. “We both know that. Not beyond what exists right now.”
“Do you want there to be?”
Oh, no. She wouldn't let him do this to her. “How can there be? I'm female, remember? Part of the evil empire. Not to mention a national institution.”
“You're really pissing me off.”
“And you know what? 1 don't care.”
Everything was out of control—her emotions, her life, her love for this man who didn't love her back. They couldn't even rationally discuss all the reasons that a marriage between them was impossible because his feelings for her didn't run that deep.
She waited for him to stomp away, but he didn't. Instead, he came closer, extended those long arms and pulled her into them. “You're being a brat,” he said gruffly.
That wonderful kindness. She felt his big hands in her hair, and a sob caught in her throat. She swallowed it and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I know.”
His lips brushed her hair. “Will it make you feel better if I fight with you?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. Take off your clothes.”
If only it were that easy. She sighed. “We can't solve this with sex.”
“Take 'em off anyway. I need to be serviced.”
“Serviced? Is that any way to talk to the First Lady?”
“You're my First Lady, and I'm just getting started.” He reached under her top. One of the ties ripped as he pulled off her pillow. “Damn, I hate this thing.”
“Of course you do. You hate everything that has to do with children.”
“You're not playing fair.”
“Sue me.”
“I've got a better idea.” Her eyes flew open as he told her, in very earthy language, exactly what he had in mind.
Desire, as powerful as her pain, rushed through her. “Are you sure you can keep up with me?”
“I'll try my best.”
Their clothes flew off and, within moments, they were in bed. He rolled on top of her and ravished her with his mouth. She opened herself to his hands, his big body, and, inevitably, welcomed the hard, deep thrust.
Their lovemaking was fierce and reckless, with neither of them holding anything back .. . except the love words she couldn't say and he didn't feel.
After it was over, he caressed her as if she were small and delicate. He kissed her forehead, the corners of her eyes, the tip of her nose. Kissed her as if he were memorizing her face.
She dipped her thumb into the hollow beneath his collarbone, pressed her lips to his chest.
He stroked her shoulde
r, buried his face in her hair. Gradually, she felt him tensing again, and she trailed her fingers over his flat stomach to encourage him.
His voice was the barest whisper. “I have something I need to tell you.”
He sounded so grave, and time had become her enemy. She let her fingers move lower. “Later.”
His breath caught as she touched him. He closed his palm over her wandering hand. “It has to be now. I've already put it off too long.”
“The girls will be back soon. One last time.”
He rolled on his side so that he was facing her. His mood was so sober that she felt her first trickle of foreboding.
“I should have told you last night—even before—but I kept chickening out. You're not going to like it.”
Her sexual lassitude disappeared. She waited, and when he hesitated, she began to feel sick. “You're married.”
“No!” His eyes flared with outrage. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
Limp with relief, she sank back onto the pillow. Nothing he could tell her would be as bad as that.
“Nealy, I don't work in a steel mill.”
She turned her head, gazed up at him. He looked so upset. So serious. She wanted to comfort him, tell him that whatever was bothering him didn't matter.
“I'm a journalist.”
Her world tilted on its axis.
“I tried to tell you at the restaurant last night, but I was selfish. I wanted another night together.”
A long silent scream built inside her.
He began talking. Explaining. “.. . working in L.A. .. . tabloid television ... hated my job ...”
She was flying apart.
“. .. looking for a big story so I could hold my head up again, but—”
“A big story?” His words finally penetrated.
“I'd sold out, Nealy. And I discovered the hard way that money doesn't mean anything if you don't respect yourself.”
Her voice seemed to be coming from a faraway place. “That's what I am? Your big story? Your ticket to self-respect!”
“No! Please don't look at me like that.”
This was too cruel. Her most private moments hadn't been private at all. She'd been sleeping with the enemy.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said.
“You won't write about me?”
His hesitation lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough. She sprang from the bed, reached for her clothes. “I'm leaving as soon as I tell Lucy good-bye.”
First Lady Page 27