she was set to deliver after a tour of the White House she was giving to a group of senators’ spouses.
The president did not seem to notice his wife’s disappointment. His stomach was unsettled for one simple reason.
Guilt. Massive, unrelenting guilt.
He had given his word to General Pak that he would carry through on all that they had planned. He had said this to Pak face-to-face. And now the man was dead. The president had actually sent agents out to kill him, but Pak had taken his own life. And had told the agents to be sure to tell him, “Go to hell.” If the positions had been reversed the president would have done the same thing. He had betrayed the man, pure and simple. And now he had been told that Pak’s adopted children had probably been sent to the labor camps, most likely for the rest of their lives.
I betrayed the man. I killed the man. I’m guilty of murder.
“Dad? Dad?”
The president shook his head and glanced around.
His daughter, Claire, had come down to breakfast. “I wanted you to look at the term paper I did for American Gov class.”
“You think I know anything about government?” he said, attempting a weak smile.
“No, but Mom is obviously busy,” she retorted with a broad smile.
He laughed while Eleanor looked on, amused. Then he continued to proudly watch as his daughter dug into her breakfast while scanning notes for what looked like her math class.
He watched warily as his son shuffled into the room wearing his school uniform. The boy had gone from a public school to one of the most elite institutions in the country. The transition had not been without some hiccups.
“Hey, big guy,” said the president. “Sleep okay?”
“I’m not a big guy. I’m the smallest kid in my class. Even the girls are taller than me.”
Claire put her spoonful of cereal down and cracked, “And smarter too.”
“Shut up!” exclaimed Tommy.
“Claire!” said her mother sharply. “Leave it alone.”
Claire smiled triumphantly and returned to her notes.
The president said, “Tommy, I’m six-two. Your mother is five-nine. You’re going to be tall. Simple matter of genetics. I bet in a couple of years you’ll shoot right past your sister. You just have to be patient.”
Claire snorted and Tommy scowled.
“And we have three more years in this place,” said Tommy. “Whoopee.”
“Seven more when Dad wins reelection,” pointed out Claire gleefully. “Right, Dad?”
The president was staring at his son and didn’t answer her.
Eleanor quickly rose, did an inspection of Tommy’s appearance, and went into full-scale mom mode, tidying his hair, tucking in his shirt, redoing his tie, and smoothing down his collar.
“You’re running a little late,” she said. “Better hurry with your breakfast.”
Tommy plopped down and stared glumly at his plate.
Eleanor glanced quickly at her husband, but he had returned to gazing off. She had resigned herself, after a bit of kicking and screaming, that so long as they were in this house and he held his office, he was mostly gone from them. The problems he had to deal with were too immense, the vitriol too intense, the stakes too high. She felt like a single mother. But she had lots of help, and she was well aware that there were many women who were truly single struggling to raise families with far fewer resources than she had. Still, it wasn’t easy. Family was hard, regardless of how much money one had.
But seeing his son had given the president something to think about.
Family.
He rose and dropped his napkin on his plate.
Eleanor looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Just forgot something I need to do before I fly out.”
He rushed off.
Eleanor turned her attention back to Tommy and coaxed him into eating a few bites of his breakfast. Then she watched her children head off with their Secret Service protection details. They would drop Tommy off first and then Claire. A Secret Service agent would remain in the classroom with them throughout the day.
As the mini-motorcade pulled off, Eleanor did not notice the group of tourists congregating near the side gate to the White House. The place where the first family would leave and enter the White House was very private and not really visible to the public.
Most of the public.
A man and a woman held up their cameras and were snapping pictures of everything they could see. They had sought positions that would give them the best view into this private area while the guards at this location were deliberately distracted by queries