Five Days in Paris (16 page)

She'd have to stop pulling her little disappearing acts though. She had done things like that for a while after Alex died, taken off for a few hours, disappeared for a night somewhere, she was usually at her brother's or her parents'. This had gone on for longer than in the past, but he had never truly had a sense that she was in danger. He knew she'd turn up eventually, he just hoped she didn't do anything stupid in the meantime. And he told her just what he thought of it before they left for the embassy, and told her what was expected of her now. At first she had said she wasn't going with him. And she had objected vehemently to the story they were releasing to the press about her.

“I sound like a complete moron,” she said, horrified. “A brain-damaged one at that,' she said, complaining bitterly about the story.

“You didn't leave us much choice. What would you like us to say? That you were dead drunk in a hotel on the Left Bank for three days? Or should we tell the truth? What was the truth, by the way, or do I want to know it?”

“It's not nearly as interesting as anything you'd make up. I needed some time to myself, that's all.”

“That's what I thought,” he said, looking more bored than annoyed. He did plenty of disappearing acts himself, but he was subtler than his wife about it. “Next time, you might leave me a note, or tell someone.”

“I was going to,” she said, looking embarrassed this time, “and then I wasn't even sure you'd notice.”

“You must think I'm completely unaware of what goes on,” he said with a look of annoyance.

“Aren't you? About me, at least.” And then she gathered her courage in both hands and said what she had planned to all along. “I'd like to speak to you this afternoon. Maybe when we get back from the embassy.”

“I have a lunch,” he said, losing interest in her immediately. She was back. She hadn't embarrassed him. They had satisfied the press. He needed her at the embassy, and after that he had other things to think of.

“This afternoon will be fine,” she said coolly. She could see the look in his eyes that told her he didn't have time for her. It was a familiar look to her, and not one that endeared him to her.

“Is something wrong?” he asked with a look of surprise at her. It was rare that she demanded his time, but he didn't in any way suspect what was coming.

“Not at all. I always disappear for three days at a time. What could be wrong?” He didn't like the look in her eyes or the way she said it.

“You were damn lucky I was able to clean that up for you, Olivia. If I were you, I wouldn't be so snotty about it. You can't expect to go wandering off like that, and have everyone be amused when you get home. If the press wanted to, they could really rake you over the coals for it. So why don't you just back off,” he said. He was all too aware that stunts like that could badly damage his chances.

“Sorry,” she said, looking grim. “I didn't mean to cause you so much trouble.” He had never said a single word about being worried about her, or afraid she might have come to some harm. In truth, he had never thought about it. Knowing her as well as he did, he had remained convinced that she was hiding. “Why don't we talk after you get back from your appointments this afternoon. It can wait till then.” She tried to say it calmly. But she was angry at him too. He always let her down. He hadn't been there for her in years now. And it was even more difficult now not to compare him to Peter.

Peter was all she could think of, and when they left for the embassy a little while later, it almost broke her heart when she saw him. She had been afraid to make any sign to him. She knew that the press would be watching her closely for a while. They were probably suspicious of the concocted story too, and every little tidbit they could ferret out would please them.

She was lost in her own thoughts, the whole time they were at the embassy. And Andy didn't ask her to join him for lunch afterwards. He had a longstanding appointment with a French politician. But when he came back at four o'clock, he was in no way prepared for what she told him. She was waiting quietly in the living room of the suite, sitting in a chair, and staring out the window. Peter was on a plane to New York by then, and it was all she could think of. He was going back to “them,” the other people in his life, the ones who didn't care about him. And she was back in the hands of the exploiters too, but not for much longer.

“What's the big deal?” Andy asked as he came in. Two of his assistants were with him, but when he saw her face, and how serious she was, he rapidly dismissed them. He had only seen her look that way once or twice, when his brother died, and when Alex did. The rest of the time she always seemed withdrawn from him, and removed from the world he lived in.

“I have something I want to say to you,” she said quietly, not sure where to begin. All she knew was that she had to tell him.

“I figured out that much,” he said, looking more handsome than any man she knew. His blue eyes were huge, and his still-blond hair made him seem boyish. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and as he sat down in one of the brocade chairs he crossed his long legs. But Olivia wasn't dazzled by him anymore, she wasn't even charmed. She knew how selfish he was, and how obsessed, and how little he cared about her.

“I'm leaving,” she said simply. That was it. It was out. It was over.

“Leaving where?” he said, looking puzzled. He didn't even understand what she was saying, and she could only smile at that. It was beyond his understanding and imagination.

“I'm leaving you,” she translated for him, “as soon as we get back to Washington. I can't do this anymore. That's why I went away for the last few days. I had to think about it. But I'm sure now.” She wanted to be sorry about what she was saying to him, but they both knew she wasn't. And he didn't look sorry either, just startled.

“Your timing's not great,” he said pensively, but he didn't ask her why she was going.

“It never is. There's never a good time for something like this. It's like getting sick, it's never convenient.” She was thinking of Alex, and he nodded. He knew how hard that had hit her. But it had been two years. In some ways, he thought she had never recovered. And neither had their marriage.

“Is there anything specific that brought this on? Is something bothering you?” He didn't bother to ask her if there was someone else. He knew her better than that, and sensed easily that there wasn't. And he was absolutely convinced that he knew everything about her.

“There's a lot bothering me, Andy. You know that.” The two of them exchanged a long look, and neither of them would have denied that they had become strangers. She didn't even know who he was now. “I never wanted to be a political wife. I told you that when we got married.”

“I can't help that, Olivia. Things change. I never expected Tom to be killed. I never expected a lot of things. Neither did you. Things happen. You do your best to face them.”

“I've done that. I've been there for you. I campaigned with you. I've done everything you expected, but we're not married anymore, Andy, and you know it. You haven't been there for me in years. I don't even know who you are now.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and he sounded sincere, but he didn't offer to change it either. “This is a bad time for you to do this to me.” He looked at her with a pointed look that would have frightened her if she had known what he was thinking. He needed her desperately, and there was no way he was willing to let her go now. “There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. I didn't make the final decision until last week.” And whatever decision it had been, it was equally clear to her that she had been no part of it. “I wanted you to be among the first to know, Olivia.” “Among the first,” but not the first, it was the whole story of the recent years of their marriage. “I'm going to run for the presidency next year. It means everything to me. And I'm going to need your help to win it.” She sat staring at him, and if he had hit her with a baseball bat, he couldn't have hit her harder. It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting it. She knew it was a possibility, but now it was real, and the way he said it to her brought it home like a bomb in her hands, and she had no idea what to do now. “I've been thinking a lot about this, knowing how you feel about political campaigns. But I would imagine there's a little appeal to being first lady.” He said it with a small smile, encouraging her, but she did not smile at him in answer. She looked horrified. The last thing in the world she wanted to be was first lady.

“There's no appeal to it whatsoever,” she said, shaking.

“But there is to me,” he said bluntly. It was the one thing he wanted, more than he wanted her, or any marriage. “And I can't do it without you. There's no such thing as a separated president, much less a divorced one. That's not news to you.” She was a political pro, after growing up with her father. But as he looked at her, he had an idea. If nothing else, he had to salvage what he could from this, though he made no effort at all to convince her he still loved her. She was too smart for that, he had already put too many stamps in the coupon book. It had gone too far, and they both knew it.

“Let me suggest something to you,” he said thoughtfully. “It's not exactly a romantic idea, but maybe it would suit both our needs. I need you. Practically speaking, for the next five years at least. One for the campaign, and four more for my first term. After that, we can either renegotiate, or the country will have to adjust to our situation. Maybe it's time for people to understand that even their president is human. After all, look at Prince Charles and Princess Di. England survived it, surely we will.” In his own mind, he was already the president, and people were going to have to adjust to him, just as she did.

“I'm not quite sure we're in those leagues,” she said ironically, but he didn't seem to notice.

“Anyway,” he went on, ignoring her, thinking ahead and concentrating on making it sound appealing, “we're talking about five years. You're very young, Olivia. You can afford that, and it will give you a cachet you never had before. People will not just feel sorry for you, or curious about you, they will come to
adore
you. My boys and I can make that happen.” She wanted to vomit as she listened to him, but she let him continue. “I will put five hundred thousand dollars in an account for you at the end of each year, after taxes. At the end of five years, you'll have two and a half million dollars.” He held up a hand to anticipate any comment. “I know you can't be bought, but if you're going to go off on your own afterwards, that's a nice little nest egg with which to do it. And if we have another child,” he smiled at her, sweetening the deal, “I will give you another million. We've been talking about that recently, and I think that could be an important issue. You don't want people to think that there's something strange about us, or say that we're both gay, or you're obsessed by tragedy. They say enough of that already. I think it's time for us to move on, and have another baby.” Olivia couldn't believe what she was hearing.
“We've been talking about a baby,”
meant he and his campaign people. It was beyond disgusting.

“Why don't we just rent a baby?” she said coldly. “No one would have to know. We could just take it on the campaign trail with us, and then give it back when we get home. It would be a lot easier. Babies are so incredibly messy, and so much trouble.” He didn't like the look in her eyes when she said it.

“Comments like that are unnecessary,” he said quietly, looking like exactly what he was, a rich boy who had gone to all the best prep schools, followed by Harvard undergraduate and law school. He had lots of family money behind him, and he had always believed that there was nothing he couldn't have if he either bought it or worked hard enough for it. He was willing to do both, but not for her. And there was no way in the world she was going to have another baby with him. He was never around for the first one, even once he had cancer. It was part of why Alex's death had been so hard on her, and somewhat easier for Andy. He hadn't been nearly as close to their son as she was.

“Your proposal is revolting. It's the most disgusting thing I ever heard,” she said with a look of outrage. “You want to buy five years of my life, at a sensible price, and you want me to have another child because it will help you get elected. I may throw up if I sit here and listen to you for much longer.” The look on her face told him exactly what she thought of his proposal.

“You always liked children. I don't understand why that's a problem.”

“I don't like you anymore, Andy, and this is why, or part of it. How can you be this crass and insensitive? What has happened to you?” Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry for him. He wasn't worth it. “I love children. I still do. But I'm not going to have a baby for a campaign, with a man who doesn't love me. What were you suggesting, that we do it by artificial insemination?” He hadn't slept with her in months, and she didn't really care. He didn't have time, and he had other resources he exploited regularly, and she didn't have the interest.

“I think you're overreacting,” he said, but he was faintly embarrassed by what she was saying. There was some truth to it, and even he knew it. But he couldn't back down now. It was too important to him to win her over. He had told his campaign manager that she would balk at having a baby. She had been terribly attached to their first child, distraught when he died, and he suspected that she would never be willing to have another. She was much too afraid now to lose it. “All right, I'd like you to think about it, though. Say a million for each year. That's five million dollars for five years, and another two if you have a baby.” He was serious and all she could do was laugh now.

“Do you think I should hold out for two a year and three if I have a baby? What does that make,” she pretended to consider it, “let's see …that's six if I have twins …nine if I have triplets. I could take Pergonal shots …maybe even quadruplets …” She turned and looked at him with wounded eyes. Who was this man she had once believed in? How could she have been so wrong about him? Listening to him, she wondered if he'd ever been human, yet deep in her heart, she knew he had been, way, way at the beginning. It was because of the person he once had been, and not the one he was now, that she stayed and listened. “If I do any of this for you, and I doubt that I will, it will be out of some distorted sense of loyalty to you, not out of greed, or because I'm trying to get rich off you. But I know how badly you want this.” It would be her final gift to him, and then she'd never have to feel guilty for leaving.