Page 7 of Revisions (By Design #17)

Chapter Five

Jameson

I admit I thought the excitement of Candace’s helicopter landing on the South Lawn would fade with time, but it never does. Cooper loves to watch Candace step off the helicopter and across the lawn. It is a sight that reminds me of my wife's power—the sight of the three helicopters as they approach—the layers of security ensuring her safety. I always feel a lump in my throat when a young Marine descends the stairs and stands at attention as Candace exits. After two years of living here, I’m awestruck every time.

You might think I’d have moved on by now. Traveling with her is a different experience than watching her. For a moment, I’m just like any American, waiting for the president to appear. Then I see my wife.

I never spent time daydreaming about fairytale romances. It’s not that I didn’t hope to fall in love. Daydreams are often influenced by the expectations of the people around us. It’s strange when I think about it. I don’t recall my parents or grandparents commenting on the handsome man who would win my heart, wedding dresses, or future grandkids. My parents followed my lead. I wanted to keep up with my cousins. They played football. I played football. They played basketball. I played basketball. They helped my dad with construction projects. I refused to be left out. And I loved it.

The truth is, I didn’t do much daydreaming. Scott dreamed of becoming an astronaut. My brother Doug fantasized about being an NFL quarterback. I was always focused on my next goal. I wanted to make the basketball team, so I practiced diligently. I was determined to get into Cornell, so I studied hard. I noticed girls at school, but few captured my interest; I was too busy avoiding my own truth. In college, I dated and had a couple of girlfriends, but I didn’t fantasize about spending a lifetime together. Then I met Candace.

Do you know how people say someone can command a room, making you feel their presence the moment they enter? Candace doesn’t need the dramatic descent of Marine One onto the White House lawn or the backdrop of Air Force One to capture attention. You can sense her presence when she walks down the hallway in a pair of flannel pajamas. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. I felt it the first time she opened her front door for me. It’s easy to overlook the power she wields as president and the weight that responsibility places on her shoulders—even for me.

We constantly search for ways to make this existence feel normal—a game of Monopoly, ice cream sundaes in the afternoon, making lasagna, or watching movies with Cooper. The backdrop never lets you forget where you are—who she is. It’s always present—Candace is the President of the United States. I don’t often think about it that way. It’s her job. But it’s so much more than that. As I watch her appear in the doorway of Marine One, I’m reminded that she’ll be in our grandchildren’s history books. People will teach college classes about her ascension to the presidency. Numerous books have already been written about her. She’s a curiosity for many—someone’s hero, another’s villain. For me and Coop, she’s everything. She belongs to something—to the broader world in ways that not many will ever claim.

I take a deep breath.

“Mom?” Cooper asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good, Coop. Just happy to have your mom home.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Coop agrees.

He looks at Mackenzie. His eyes are bright—almost glassy. It’s an adorable childhood crush, but his friendship with Mackenzie Toles goes much deeper. I don’t predict they’ll defy all the odds and wind up the centerpiece of an epic romance, although stranger things have happened. Look at me. Mackenzie is his best friend. They understand each other. It’s funny. I’ve heard Cassidy comment many times that Mackenzie worships Alex. Candace says the same thing about how Cooper is with me. That’s because he emulates me. I do see it. Mackenzie tries to be like Alex, too. But Candace and Cassidy are both missing something obvious to me. Mackenzie loves Cassidy the way Coop does Candace.

“Hey, there’s your mom,” Cooper tells Mackenzie.

Candace walks beside Cassidy, laughing. I’m grateful that Cassidy agreed to be part of Candace’s team. It’s been good for them both. But I also recognize that there is a trade-off. Cassidy’s role in the administration alters their dynamic as friends. That’s another reason I think it’s helpful for Candace to have Jessica in her life. An outside perspective is something Candace needs.

Candace looks at me and smiles. I can read her body language—relief. She’s eager to prepare dinner in the family kitchen. I doubt she minds whether we end the night with a board game, a movie, or some other activity—as long as it’s paired with ice cream.

Coop tries to be cool—more like a teenager than the nine-year-old we love. I’m sure that’s mainly for Mackenzie’s benefit. But I can see hints of the little boy we brought home, clutching a stuffed frog. I know he loves me, and God knows I love him. Candace is his person. I understand. Sharing her with a large family isn’t easy. Sharing his mom with the entire world is even harder. He does it with a grace that mirrors his mother’s. I think Coop is an old soul—if such a thing exists. It’s another way he and Mackenzie are alike. I fight back the urge to laugh as I watch them try to walk coolly to their moms. They’d love to sprint across the lawn. They don’t. I get it. I feel the same way.

“Hey, there,” Candace greets Cooper.

“Hi, Mom,” Mackenzie says, accepting a hug from Cassidy.

“I thought we could use a few more players for Monopoly,” I explain.

“Mm,” Candace hums. She kisses me lightly.

“Monopoly?” Cassidy asks.

“Yeah, Mom,” Mackenzie says. “Coop says Aunt Candace usually spends all her time in jail.”

Candace rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Cassidy says. “Last time the kids got me to play, I picked a card every turn and paid someone else’s rent.”

Candace laughs. “Well, in that case, we should have a glass of wine while I make dinner—before I’m in the slammer and you’re on the street.”

I laugh as I trail behind the group.

“Ms. Reid?”

I look over my shoulder to see Paul Pfieffer, one of Candace’s aides, running to reach me.

“Paul.”

“I know you’re probably anxious to get inside,” he says.

“Not so much,” I tell him. “It seems my wife and her press secretary have a kitchen date with Chardonnay.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Never mind. What can I do for you?” I wonder.

“Well, the president asked me to talk to you about setting up a tour for some students.”

“Mm. Today?” I ask.

“What?”

“Do you need me to conduct a tour today?”

“Oh. No.”

I hold back a chuckle. Paul can’t be much older than twenty-two. He’s the son of Luke’s college roommate, and he’s more eager to please Candace than she is to uncork that bottle of wine.

“How about we schedule a time to talk tomorrow?” I suggest.

“Oh. Sure.”

“Why don’t you come slumming around 10?”

Paul looks confused. I forget not everyone understands my sense of humor.

“To the East Wing,” I explain. “My office isn’t an oval. I do have coffee,” I promise him. “And I’ll let you in on a secret.”

His ears perk.

“Jameson!” Candace calls out to me.”

“My coffee is better,” I tell Paul before jogging to catch up with Candace.

“Please tell me you didn’t scare Paul,” Candace says.

“Scare him? I invited him to go slumming.”

Candace shakes her head and laughs. “You are an architect, honey. If you really want an oval-shaped office, design one.”

Believe me, if they’d let me, I would.

I’m not sure if it’s the trip, the marathon Monopoly game, or the extra-large sundaes we ate, but neither Candace nor I seem to have much energy, and it’s only nine.

“I’m sorry to be the party pooper,” Candace says. “I think my tiredness found my exhaustion somewhere near the Boardwalk.”

I chuckle and pull Candace into my arms. “Don’t apologize.”

“I think tomorrow will be a late morning for me.”

“You need to get some sleep,” I tell her.

“I wish my mind would let me.”

“Candace? What haven’t you told me?”

“Jonathan called me early this morning.”

I take a deep breath and hold it.

“He’s hiring someone to stay with him full time, starting next week,” Candace says.

“Are things progressing?”

“I don’t know. He said he wasn't in any pain. He’s tired, Jameson. Marianne wanted him to stay with them. He doesn’t want the grandkids to see him sick.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Neither do I. But you know our kids want to be there for him—with him—Marianne most of all.”

“I know, but I also understand how Jonathan feels. Marianne went through hell with Rick. Jonathan saw what that did to her.”

“Yes, but Marianne made it through that, Jameson—stronger.”

“Maybe. Watching her dad die is bound to bring up some serious baggage.”

Candace sighs. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“You can’t fix everything. You know that better than most people. Just be there for them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“No one expects you to drop everything and fly to Connecticut. Just be available to listen. That’s the best you can do for all of them. That’s not the only thing that has you wiped out tonight.”

“I’m worried about the election.”

“This one or the next one?” I ask.

“Both.”

“About losing?”

“That, too,” Candace admits. She shifts to look at me.

“Did you find out more about what happened with the protestors?”

“Nothing specific. I don’t really need the specifics to know we have an issue.”

“What kind of issue?”

“People say they want substance, Jameson—they want solutions. Sometimes, they fall prey to the spectacle. That’s what Klein is counting on. Making me the extremist.”

I sit up. “You? Come on, Candace. The American Brethren are self-proclaimed white supremacists. How on earth is Lawson Klein, or anyone for that matter, going to turn you into the extremist.”

Candace groans,

“Candace?”

“They see me as the extreme.”

“Because you’re married to me?” I ask.

“It’s everything I represent and believe,” Candace replies. “They want to paint themselves as the resistance.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It may be ridiculous. It also may prove effective.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Candace flops back onto the mattress with a sigh.

I want to press the issue, but I won’t. I want to lighten her mood with a fortune cookie or a joke, but that’s not what she needs from me. Not now. I collapse beside her and kiss her softly. “Let it go for now.”

Candace folds herself into my arms and closes her eyes.

“I love you for wanting to take care of everyone. Sometimes, you need to let someone take care of you. Don’t say anything,” I tell her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she quips.

“Maybe so,” I concede. “I let you cook dinner, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Because I knew you needed to take care of us tonight. I knew you needed to be Coop’s mom and not the president for a few hours.”

“I wish I could escape sometimes,” Candace confesses.

“The White House?”

“No. My brain.”

I laugh.

“It is a maze up there,” I say.

Candace finally chuckles and whacks me softly. “Kind of like your mouse house, huh?”

“Mm. I never thought about it. Maybe. Maybe that’s why you had Dana steal Jinx from my office and secretly snuck him into yours—to keep the wheels from spinning so fast.”

“Maybe so.”

“Close your eyes,” I tell her. “Rest. Think about me naked.”

Candace laughs. “That won’t lead to rest, Jameson.”

I kiss Candace’s temple. “I think we’re both too tired to study scripture tonight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop? There’s always morning. They have sunrise services for a reason, you know?”

I feel Candace shaking with laughter against me.

“I can schedule a wake-up call?—”

Candace stretches to kiss me. “Lunatic.”

“It takes a little lunacy to live here,” I reply.

“That it does.”

I pull Candace back into my arms. “Get some rest, Candace. We hit the campaign trail together in a few days. No doubt someone will raise the issue of your relationship with God. We’ll need to prepare, you know.”

I expect a clever reply, but the only sound I hear is a contented snore. I smile, feeling suddenly excited about the campaign trail and the sunrise.

To Be Continued In

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