I Do Solemnly Swear (4 page)

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ve...already made plans.” She wasn’t pleased with his disappointed look. “Can I take a rain check?”

“Rubbing elbows after hours is an important part of politics,” McDermott said. “It could help your career if you went with the flow a little more.”

Sure, Chuck. Me and the boys’ll break some bread, slam down a few Cuervos. Then back to your place, huh? Maybe do some lines? Dust off the video camera? A little gang-bang, perhaps?

“Can I call you later and let you know?”

His patronizing smile didn’t fool her. “Yeah. Sure.”

Olivia grabbed her briefcase and stood. She straightened her suit jacket and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt. McDermott didn’t get up. As she walked toward the door, self-conscious that McDermott was ogling her butt, she remembered something.

“Do you think President Miles can find thirty minutes for me?”

He gave her a peculiar look. “For what purpose?”

“I’d like to share some PR strategies with her.”

McDermott’s voice tightened. “I’ll run it by her, but it might not be for several days.”

She wasn’t going to hold her breath waiting. “Thanks, Charles.”

***

Peter Miles bent over to tie his shoes, and Kate feared the seam on his pants might tear. He’d recently had eight suits altered, and already, they were too tight. “Anything we need to do?” Peter asked.

“McDermott is handling everything,” Kate said. “By Saturday evening, we’ll be sleeping on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Whoop-de-do.” He whirled his index finger in the air in an apathetic manner. “What do you suppose my new title will be? First Man? First Gentleman? Or maybe they’ll refer to me as the fat ass sleeping with the president.”

“I know this isn’t easy for you, Peter.”

“You have
no
idea.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Run for governor of Kansas again.”

“I understand what it’s like to be on the sidelines.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you have a problem being married to the president?”

“Did I have a
problem
being married to a governor?”

Kate stopped brushing her hair and stared at Peter intently. “I thought you were happy for me. You said you wouldn’t mind taking a short break from your practice.”

“That was before we moved to this godforsaken city.”

Kate slipped on her navy-blue suit jacket and inspected her shoulders for stray hairs. She noticed Peter’s slacks and didn’t care for the way they looked.

Considering his sensitive mood of late, she was unsure how to diplomatically suggest that he change. “I’d love for you to wear your charcoal suit to the funeral.”

Peter stood upright and let out a heavy breath of air. “Ben needs help with the Alexander trial.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to catch a plane in about two hours.”

Kate darted to the other side of the bedroom. She folded her arms across her chest. “You’re
not
attending David’s funeral?”

“Doesn’t appear that way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did.”

Lately, they could feud about almost anything. “David’s funeral services begin in an hour. Try to imagine how humiliated I’ll feel if my
husband
isn’t standing by my side.”

“Let’s not get all melodramatic, Kate.” He fastened his belt. “Nobody’s going to miss me. You’re the president. I’m just an unemployed lawyer.”

Again, he was wallowing. He’d had numerous opportunities to work in Washington. In fact, as the vice president’s spouse, dozens of high-profile law firms had tried in vain to recruit Peter. But Peter had come up with one excuse after another why he turned down every job offer.

“If you have to fly to Topeka, I certainly understand. But can a day make a difference?”

“Every minute I spend in this city is like hanging by my thumbnails.”

“Please, Peter, your timing couldn’t possibly be worse. I would deeply appreciate it if you would reconsider. You can leave tomorrow or even later today.”

He appeared to be considering her request. He put his hands on top of her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. This trip
is important to me. But I can postpone it for a day. Just do me one favor. I don’t need any Secret Service agents protecting me from the boogeyman. The last thing I want is a couple of dark suits camping out in my back pocket while I’m in Topeka.”

“I’ll talk to Cranston.”

***

On her way to the funeral, Katherine Miles was surrounded by a caravan of Secret Service vehicles. McDermott was on one side of her, his knee bouncing up and down, and Peter sat on the other side. Walter Owens sat across from her folding and unfolding his hands. Kate felt a strange detachment from the rest of the world, as if her life were a dream, one in which she was a spectator among participants. McDermott was talking about policies and protocol, outlining her agenda for the next few days, and Peter sat quietly, looking like he’d rather be anyplace else on Earth. Kate passively listened. In the forefront of her mind was the crisp memory of how this roller coaster ride to the White House had all begun.

***

“Kate Miles calling for David Rodgers.”

“Mr. Rodgers is in a meeting.” The secretary’s voice was unfamiliar, saccharin sweet.

A meeting? Why do they always use the meeting excuse?

“This is quite urgent. Would you please interrupt him?”

“As I said, he’s in—”

“Young lady, this is Governor Miles. Please tell David I’m on the line.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Governor. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kate tucked the receiver between her ear and shoulder. Her fingers danced on the Toshiba laptop. Tonight, Kate would stand before the local chapter of the National Organization of Women and deliver a lecture on women in government. Kate frequently
encouraged other women to enter politics. She wasn’t always certain that her motives were as honorable as she wished them to be. She often believed that her support and positive approach repressed a hidden “misery loves company” agenda.

David Rodgers’s voice broke her concentration. “Thought I’d be hearing from you soon. Hope you haven’t been holding too long.” His tone was bright and spirited.

“Great interview with Piers Morgan,” she said. “It’s not every day that a successful billionaire announces that he’s running for president on the Independent ticket.”

“Well, if the assholes in Congress knew how to run the country, I’d just sit in my cushy office and run Global Transportation. But I guess I’m more patriotic than I thought.” He paused.

“Are you furious with me?”

“Beyond elucidation. A federal marshal should be knocking on your door any minute.”

He huffed into the receiver. “I promised to give you another week, I know. But Piers pressed me. It was a golden opportunity, Kate. You
have
decided to accept...haven’t you?”

“It’s a conspiracy, right? Daddy and you put your conniving little heads together and figured you’d double-team me.”

“Can I take the fifth on that?”

“I’m driving to the ranch for the weekend, David. You and I need to have a heart-to-heart.”

Silence.

“David?”

“How about noon Saturday?”

“That’s fine.”

“Anything I should do to prepare?” Rodgers asked.

“Eat a big bowl of Wheaties. And bring your boxing gloves.”

***

With the top down, the sun warming her face, the spring air blowing through her hair, Kate approached the White Stallion Ranch in her red Mustang convertible. The narrow road, lined with blossoming sugar maples and elm trees, colorfully announced spring’s arrival. She passed harvested corn fields and acres of golden winter wheat. John Deere tractors worked tirelessly, plowing the earth, preparing the fertile soil for a bountiful summer.

She stopped in front of the main gate and pushed the floor shift lever into park. Thirty years ago, Kate had helped her father construct this front gate, digging holes with the post-hole digger, hand-mixing concrete for the four-by-four supports, nailing the crossbeams. She looked at the scar on her pinky and recalled how terrified she’d been when she cut her finger on the rusty nail. Kate had other scars, though. Deep scars etched into her heart. Time hadn’t healed all her wounds.

Above the gate was the ranch logo. Two white stallions stood on their hind legs facing one another; above their heads in an oval circle were the letters
WSR
, painted black.

Familiar memories flooded her mind.

This was where she’d spent her childhood, where her appreciation of nature and love of animals began. It was a haven unmolested by the frenzy of big-city life. Free of politics and people in a hurry, there was no obsession with status here; people living in Linwood, Kansas, were just plain folks.

Of all the picturesque places on earth, the White Stallion Ranch was Kate’s favorite.

She pulled up to the main house, a two-story log cabin her father had built. She parked the Mustang next to the brokendown tractor. When she got out of the car, she stretched toward
the sky, trying to get the kink out of her upper back. She removed her luggage from the trunk and stood silent for a moment. Kate could hear a choir of birds, a dog howling, a rooster crowing. The sounds of midwestern America.

That her father was not on the front porch waiting to greet her did not surprise Kate. How many times had other priorities taken precedence over his only child? She carried her luggage up the steps and dropped it in front of the door. The hinges squeaked, and the front door swung open. Plump as ever, four-foot-eleven Maria Martinez greeted her with a warm smile. Her ebony-colored eyes glistened. Kate’s father was lucky to have found such a nurturing housekeeper and cook who kept his domestic life in order. Kate stepped inside, and Maria embraced her.

“Miss Kate.” Maria’s Latino accent seemed more pronounced than Kate remembered. “Your father tell me you come today. I have missed you.”

“You’re looking well,” Kate said. “Is Daddy still working you like a
burro
?”

“Oh, since your father retire, he no the same man. I do my business, and he stay out of way.”

Kate could smell cilantro and garlic. “Are you preparing my favorite dish?”

“Burritos de pollo con salsa verde.”

“Wonderful!”

Kate’s eyes surveyed the expansive main living area. Her father always had a flair for southwestern decor. The room emulated authentic American Indian culture, complete with a life-size wooden sculpture of an Indian chief guarding the entrance to her father’s private study.

“Where is Daddy?”

“He go to town. Promise to be back before you come.” Maria lifted a shoulder, her face apologetic. “He always
el embajador
. I make coffee? Hazelnut?”

“You’re a sweetheart.”

After pouring herself a mug full of coffee, Kate went outside and stood on the front porch. In the distance, she could see her father’s Chevy Blazer kicking up a cloud of dust as it raced toward the house. As his face came into clear view, Kate felt a knot twist into her stomach. He’d always made her nervous, expected so much of her. He’d talked her out of entering veterinary school, a childhood ambition, and convinced her to get a law degree from Cornell. He had said, “It will yield greater opportunities in the ‘real world.’” Kate wasn’t yet sure what the real world was. It seemed to be a place that continued to outdistance her.

Trevor Williams parked the Blazer next to Kate’s Mustang. She’d intended to buy a BMW convertible, but her father, a diehard domestic loyalist, had given her his classic lecture on the trade deficit and how foreign products have hurt our economy. Kate, ready to sign a contract, walked out of the BMW dealership and leased a Ford. At the age of forty-five, her decisions were still profoundly affected by him.

Hunched slightly forward, Trevor lumbered to the front porch and hobbled up the steps.

“My sweet Kate.” He sounded wheezy, out of breath. “I’ve missed you.” He gave her a bear hug.

“Is your back bothering you again?” she asked.

“A touch of sciatica. Nothing to worry about.”

Her father was not as handsome as he’d been in years past. The blistering Kansas sun had left its signature on his weatherworn face. But his prominent jaw, spirited eyes, and trim phy
sique made him appear to be ten years younger than sixty-nine. Once the president of Global Transportation, one of David Rodgers’s most successful companies, he now spent most of his retirement mending fences and tending to his horses.

They sat together on the glider. Kate sipped her warm coffee. Trevor draped his arm around her shoulders. Kate gazed beyond the porch railing, her hungry eyes absorbing acres of rolling hills, horse stables, and barns, the stockade fence disappearing over the horizon. At this particular moment, she felt physically and spiritually close to her father, yet there was still a void in her heart since her mother died when she was so young. Time could never erase the years of loneliness she had felt as a child.

“I had an interesting conversation with David Rodgers,” she said.

“How
is
David? Haven’t seen much of him since I retired.”

She knew he was lying. “So you sold me out, huh, Daddy?”

His reaction was a classic double take. He looked at her, and the muscles at the corners of his eyes twitched to a faint smile. “Just looking out for my little girl’s future.”

Her political career began when she was twenty-five. Running on the Democratic ticket, she’d been elected to the city council of Topeka, where she painfully learned that the sacred brotherhood of men possessed a ravenous appetite for women with idealistic political ambitions. After nearly fifteen years serving on the city council, winning every election by a huge margin, Kate Miles taught the male population a humbling lesson when she defied the odds and the polls, and became the first female governor of Kansas.

“This is a big step, Daddy. I’m not sure I’m ready for Washington politics.”

Trevor Williams pulled her closer to him. “If you wait until you’re ready, it’ll never happen. This is the opportunity of a life
time, honey. You have at your fingertips the ability to change the course of history.”