determined look as Samantha’s lit his face. That thing burrowed a bit deeper.
“Are you really prepared—legally—to pursue something like this?” Justin cut in, breaking the trance, scattering the thing deeper into hiding.
“Yes, I am,” Chad stated emphatically. “I’ve been preparing for months. And I’d like you to work with me on the legal end.”
Justin looked at his wife.
“You realize that once this process begins and the wheels are in motion, the momentum will be too powerful to stop,” Vaughn said, imagining the ripple effect on the Hill, the sides that would be taken on both sides of the aisle—and most of all the toll it would take on her family. She studied the eager and determined expressions of her children, of Chad, who was like a son, and looked across at her husband, whom she trusted beyond measure. She spoke only to him. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m behind you.”
Justin squeezed her hand and nodded, both of them knowing his decision.
Chad sighed audibly, then slowly smiled. “We can do this,” he said in an almost hushed reverence. “And when we do—everything will change.”
Simone helped Vaughn gather up the dishes and load the dishwasher while surreptitiously stealing glances at Samantha and Chad, who were locked in animated conversation, peppered with musical notes of laughter and light touches on a hand or arm.
Her stomach bobbed up and down like a buoy on rough seas, and the tightness in her throat was the only thing that kept her from screaming.
But at what? she wondered, frowning as she turned the dials and the machine churned to life. She had no hold on Chad, no claim on his heart. He was a free man. Free to do as he chose, as was she. So was Samantha. All unclaimed. Then why did it feel as if that weren’t true?
Chad was spending his first night in Justin and Vaughn’s guest room, both of them adamantly refusing to let him spend the night in a hotel.
Samantha and Simone said their good-byes, giving their parents the ritualistic kiss, hug and promise to call.
Simone stood aside as Chad embraced Samantha, lightly kissing her cheek and conveying something she could not hear. She glanced away.
“We’ll talk,” Simone suddenly heard close to her ear as her sister sped away. She turned and Chad was at her side, gazing at her in that familiar way of his.
Simone looked up. “Sure.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. His lips stayed pressed against her flesh for a moment too long and the old sensations roared to the surface. Did he feel it, too? Her heart pumped faster. “It was good seeing you again, Simone,” his voice caressed. “You’re more beautiful than I remember.” His finger stroked her cheek and it took all her will power not to tremble.
“Maybe we could get together—for lunch or dinner.”
“I’m really busy, Chad…”
He held up his hand. “Hey, no explanations needed. I understand. Maybe some other time.” He opened the car door and held it until Simone was behind the wheel.
She stuck her key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. She pressed a button and the window lowered halfway.
Chad leaned down. “Get home safely.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled and backed out of the driveway.
Chad watched the car until it turned out of the drive and tore off down the smooth, black-tarred road.
Slowly, he turned back toward the house and quietly shut the door behind him.
That night, lying in bed, Chad stared through the sheer curtains that billowed with the light spring breeze and out onto the seamless blue blanket, sprinkled with star dust. He was home, among those who loved him, and it felt good. Very good.
It all seemed so quiet, so perfect, as if all was right with the world. How deceptive a quiet night could be. Behind closed doors, strategies were devised, lies constructed, papers read, televisions watched and lovers loved. He and Simone were perfect examples of a quiet night, both projecting a picture of cool control, an emotional distance, while still maintaining a tangible warmth. He turned on his side, his thoughts still turbulent.
She’d changed. That was obvious. There was a toughening of her edges, a new aloofness that he didn’t remember being a part of who she was. Perhaps it was the work, the things she’d seen and had to find a way to deal with. There was no way she could successfully coexist in the world of politics without developing a tough exterior. A shell to ward off the blindside attacks and sudden assaults of the opposition. Beltway politics at its meanest.
Had Simone become hardened inside as well? She wasn’t the woman he’d left four years ago. But neither was he the same man. His journey into the abject misery of the Third World, with its many plagues of hunger, disease and war, had awakened something deep inside him. He saw everything around him now with new eyes, saw beyond the obvious to the essentials of things. Yes,Simone had changed. And it was apparent from her response to him that she’d moved on and had no intention of revisiting the past. How did he feel about that?
Truthfully, it was a mixture of regret and relief. Regret that there wasn’t a special someone waiting for him, that she was not what he’d imagined during his time away, and relief that he wouldn’t be called upon to live up to or recreate what had once been. The memory was always more perfect than the reality. The mind always played tricks with time and emotion.
Maybe it was just as well. He came back for one major reason—to make a difference. That was what he would concentrate on.
Samantha stepped out of the shower and walked nude to her bedroom. She’d completed a full hour of aerobics, light weights and stretches upon returning from her parents’ home.
Her smooth, brown, heavenly sculpted body glided by the full-length mirror. The long, sinewy legs, tight thighs—and just the right amount of curve and lift to her behind to make a man holler—moved in perfect motion about the room. She hadn’t reached a point yet where gravity had gotten a lock on her, dragging everything toward the ground. Her 36B breasts were still high and firm and she worked hard at keeping them that way for as long as possible.
Samantha sat on the side of the bed, took a cloth band from the night table, grabbed a handful of her locks and fastened a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She checked her bedside clock and disconnected the alarm. Tomorrow she planned to sleep late—at least until eight and not her usual six.
She switched off her bedside light and slid beneath the cool, mint green sheets that matched perfectly with the patterned borders of her off-white walls. Even in the brutal heat of the D.C. summers, stepping into her room always reminded her of an oasis.
Samantha took in a long breath and slowly pushed it out. This had been an incredibly hard week, and the worst was yet to come. Of that much she was certain. But at least she knew she had her family’s support. And now that Chad was home—
The sudden rush of adrenaline caused her heart to beat faster and her skin to warm. The notion of what he wanted to undertake had no precedence, at least not on a national level. To be a part of it—to possibly add a page to history, change lives and laws, was a Herculean feat that left her in awe.
She
