Brian came alive. “Tell your teacher why you got to know the results. I’ll bet he’ll grade it right away.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “And we hit the books right now.”
Suddenly, Brian didn’t look so happy. “What about our math test tomorrow? I thought we were going to study for it tonight.” He needed Matt to help him as much as Zeth did.
“We can wing it,” Matt said.
Brian stomped off, unhappy to be studying on his own “Right. Wing it.”
It was a quiet dinner in the family dining room in the official residence. The table had been shortened to make it more intimate and Sarah sat opposite Pontowski while Maura and Maddy faced each other. “Did you know,” Sarah said, “that everybody’s name here but mine starts with an M? Maura, Madeline, and Matthew.”
“And there’s Matt,” Maura said, thinking of Pontowski’s son.
“Let’s see,” Pontowski said, making a show of it. “The letter M is the thirteenth letter and shares the center of the alphabet with N.”
“Do you always think in terms of numbers?” Sarah asked.
“Sorta,” Pontowski conceded.
“Good,” the little girl announced. “You can help me with my math homework.” She slipped off her chair and dragged him to the family room.
Maura shifted and came to her feet. “I’ve got to lose some weight,” she moaned. She followed Maddy. “I’m glad you invited him to dinner,” she murmured.
“Well, he is in town and I wanted to talk to him—”
“About the boys, no doubt.”
“Exactly,” Maddy replied.
“He’s a hunk,” Maura murmured.
Maddy raised her eyebrows. “Do you think so?”
Maddy was content to let Sarah dominate Pontowski’s attention as he helped her with her homework. Maura’s knitting needles clicked in the background as she watched TV and gave an old-fashioned patina to the evening. Finally, it was Sarah’s bedtime and Maddy hustled her daughter off to bed. Maura stirred to follow her. “No, I’ll tuck her in,” Maddy said, leaving them alone. Sarah set a speed record getting into bed and gave her mother a good-night kiss. “Mom, I really like him.”
“So do I. But that’s a secret between you and me.” She gave Sarah a playful tickle. “So don’t tell anyone, Chubs.” She kissed Sarah on top of her head and turned out the light. “Sleep tight.”
Pontowski was talking quietly to Maura when she rejoined them in the family room. Maura faked a yawn and excused herself, claiming it had been a long day. Once alone, they made small talk, taking little steps of discovery on the path to a stronger relationship. An inner voice told her it was time to take a giant leap forward and see where they landed. Regardless of how they felt about each other, she was, above all, the president of the United States.
“Matt, I was talking to Robert, General Bender, the other day about the ‘Quadrennial Defense Review’ and the subject of women in combat came up. He said there were problems we need to address now, before it’s too late. Doesn’t your fighter wing have women?”
“Yep, sure do.”
“Are you having problems?”
Pontowski sensed why she had brought the subject up. “Maddy, I’m personally against women in combat. But the military is an extension of the government and we implement government policy. If my government wants women in combat, I’ll put them in combat. But every decision has a price. Unfortunately, in the military, the bill comes due in combat when lives are at stake.”
She took his hand in hers and held it. “You never answered my question.”
“We have problems. But my wing is a reserve outfit so what I’m experiencing may be unique. The real problem is that I’m not allowed to talk about it. My bosses tell me to integrate women. End of discussion. Problems and results are not part of that equation. So I stand tall in the grass, salute, and say ‘Yes, sir,’ and do the best I can.”
His tone of voice was matter-of-fact, his manner easy and relaxed. He was not challenging her or asking for a special understanding. Maddy’s intuition shouted they were on the same wavelength. “Can you be more specific?”
Again, his answer was straightforward. “The attrition rate among women is too high, which means a decrease in readiness.” He felt her hand stiffen at the word Bender had focused on. Misreading her reaction, he automatically started to massage her hands as he talked, concentrating more on her hands than on his words. “On the flight line and in maintenance, women suffer more physical injuries, which means more medical care. That’s not a problem in Missouri, but it will be in a forward operating location where there’s limited medical care and I need every person I’ve got available for duty.”
“Ummm,” she murmured. “That feels good. Matt, would you—” She gave him a pleading look.
He laughed, enchanting her. “You want your feet rubbed!”
She scooted back and brought her feet up, dropping them in his lap. “How did you know?”
“You’re dealing with a fighter jock here, Madame. We know the way to a woman’s heart.”
She stifled her reply. Instead she asked, “When do you leave?”
“It’s back to Knob Noster tomorrow—”
“Knob Noster?”
He laughed, again drawing her to him. “That’s the name of the town where my base is located. It’ll take me a couple of days to clear my desk and turn the wing over to my replacement. Then it’s on to Luke Air Force Base for a quick refresher in the F-16. I’ll be there for five weeks, then off to Poland.”
“Will you be in the States for Christmas?”
“That’s the plan. I finish training on December twentieth.”
She glanced at her watch. “Matt—”
“I know, time to go.”
Maddy reached out and touched his cheek. “It was a lovely evening.”
“It was. Thanks for inviting me.” They stood and she walked with him into the hall. Outside, an intern from the social office was waiting to escort him out. Again, they said good night and shook hands. But it was really more of a caress than a formal goodbye.
She closed the door and sat down by the phone. After thinking for a few moments, she picked it up and called Dennis. “Is it set up?” She listened for a few moments and said, “I’ll be right down.” She walked to the window and looked out over the park as images of Pontowski kept demanding her attention. “Only daydreams,” she murmured to herself. She walked out into the hall.
Behind her, the Secret Service agent on duty spoke into his radio. “Magic is moving.” In the Secret Service command post directly below the Oval Office, the lighted panel traced her steps as she rode the elevator to the basement and headed for a small staff break room not far from the kitchen.
Dennis was waiting for her. “He’s on his way.” Turner nodded and stepped inside. On one table was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a tumbler of water, a bowl of peanuts, some glasses, and a root beer. She sat down and poured herself a drink from the bottle of root beer.
“This will do fine,” she told Dennis. “We used to meet late at night in party headquarters in Sacramento. I’d cry a lot, he’d drink, and we’d talk.” For a moment, she was back in California, a freshman state senator, in over her head, and very alone.
“Madame President,” Shaw said from the doorway. He smiled when he saw the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He knew what she was doing. “Just like old times.” He sat down and poured himself a drink. Then he grabbed a handful of peanuts and munched a mouthful. He glanced over his shoulder at Dennis who was sitting beside the closed door. His presence announced the rules had changed. “Patrick,” she began, her voice friendly and relaxed, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week. I like your approach.”