Chapter 1 #2
"Yes. Cassidy, Claire has walked in a world, one that even I don't fully understand. So has your father. So did my father. I forget that sometimes."
"The world is the world, Alex. This other world you all talk about is about choices."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Alex took a breath. "Yesterday, Candace and I were talking about actions and reactions."
"Uh-huh."
"And she mentioned that she forgets reaction is sometimes a necessary action."
"Not the same, Alex."
"Not the same circumstances," Alex said. "But it is the same reality."
"How did this become about my father?"
"It's about all of us. I agree with you. Our fathers made choices that have affected us. You. Me. Claire. El. Jonathan. Even Jane. We're all living with their ghosts. Trying to understand why they left us—why they kept so many secrets."
Cassidy sighed.
"And you're right. I worry about Dylan. It isn't always for the reasons you think."
Cassidy tilted her head.
"He has ghosts, too. I know Speed loves me. And we both know I love him."
Cassidy smiled.
"But he knows me, Cass. I know I've made mistakes as a parent. Dylan knows me. He's trying to understand his fathers."
Cassidy threw her head back and covered her face.
Alex removed Cassidy's hands. "That's not because you didn't tell him about John."
"Isn't it? That's how I'm like my father."
"No," Alex said. "It isn't."
"But it is."
"John could have approached you. He could have asked—even demanded—a relationship with Dylan."
"He was the president. That would have?—"
"It would have been politically inconvenient."
"It would have been politically catastrophic," Cassidy said.
"Mm."
"You don't think so?" Cassidy asked.
"I think you both feared that, and for good reason. But no one can know if that's true, Cassidy. Just like your father can't know what would have happened if he'd stuck around, or if he'd confronted William Brackett about Claire. Fear crept in. That's what happened. Whose fear?"
Cassidy closed her eyes and shook her head regretfully.
"Your father might seem like he makes excuses."
"Because he does."
"No. He gives you an explanation."
Cassidy chuckled dryly.
"If he were excusing his decisions, he wouldn't be so tormented by them. Just like you feel about not telling Dylan who his biological father is sooner," Alex said. She smiled. "I love you, Cassidy. You're the most honest person I know."
Cassidy laughed.
"You made a judgment call," Alex said. "What were you supposed to do, Cass? Dylan was only six when I met him. What were you supposed to tell him?"
"The truth."
"Mm. And could you trust that John would have been there? That he would have claimed Dylan as his?"
Cassidy sighed.
"We've never talked about this, mostly because you worry about who John was to me. He was my best friend, Cassidy. At least, he was for a long time. But when he went into politics, that changed."
Cassidy's gaze narrowed.
"We didn't spend time together. We talked. We saw each other occasionally."
"Alex, everyone knows that John loved you."
"I'm not denying that, Cass. But he knew I could never love him the way he wanted me to. And even if I had, I would never have wanted the life he chose."
"I know."
"I'm sure John loved Dylan. And while I know what happened between you wasn't a love affair, I also know he cared deeply for you—as the mother of his son and as someone he considered a friend.
But I also knew John differently than you did.
And I'm not sure he would have stepped up to the plate if you had approached him about telling Dylan the truth. "
Cassidy swallowed hard.
"And I think that's the biggest reason you never did."
"It was my decision, Alex."
"Mm-hm. But you also suspected he might resist admitting Dylan was his—at least publicly. And that would have complicated things even more for Dylan."
"We'll never know."
"No, we won't. But we need to project possible outcomes to make sound decisions.
The truth is that we all like to think we project from a place of power, of taking control.
Most of the time, our projections are clouded by fear—fear of what someone else may say or do.
In my experience, those fears are often warranted.
That doesn't mean we can't be wrong about something, and it doesn't mean that our fears lack merit. "
"Maybe so."
"It is so," Alex said, leaning in to steal a kiss. "I need to shower."
"Can you make it upstairs?"
"Yeah. Just a little stiff."
Cassidy arched a skeptical brow.
"I promise, Cass. Just stiff. I need to get back to my morning runs; they help."
"With your back?"
"With everything," Alex said. "I'll see you at work later."
"Do you want me to wait? I can drive?—"
"No. I need to review some things before my meeting with Joshua. It's quieter here."
Cassidy laughed genuinely.
"I know," Alex said. "When did that happen?"
"Don't get too nostalgic, love. It only lasts for a few hours," Cassidy said, retrieving her jacket from the closet.
Alex shook her head. "We're getting old, Cass."
"Well, at least you'll always be older," Cassidy replied. She winked and walked out of the house.
Alex chuckled and headed upstairs. "'At least I'll always be older?'" She shook her head. "Guess that's why she calls me Alfred."
"JD?"
"Hi, Cass."
"I'm on my way in. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. At least, I think so."
"That doesn't sound convincing," Cassidy replied.
Jameson chuckled. "It's nothing dire."
"But it is something."
"Candace told me she's worried."
Cassidy sighed. "I'm sure she is."
"It's not like her, Cass. I mean, sure—she worries about the kids and me. I think she was referring to work. And that isn't like her."
"No. She prefers to be vigilant and open-minded."
"Has she said anything to you? I think you're the person she's most likely to confide in about worries in the Oval Office."
"I don't think that's true. I'm the person who addresses the press most often. It matters to Candace that I'm comfortable speaking on her behalf."
"It's more than that, Cassidy."
"She's my best friend. That's also true. I don't think Candace is expecting a major disaster. The past few months have heightened her awareness about the possibility. I think that's true for us all."
Jameson groaned. "I know. I'm not sure she'd tell me if she thought she was in danger."
"JD, don't project that this is about Candace's safety. Believe me, I understand. I worry about Alex and Claire. I even worry about Candace. The bombing is still fresh. And that experience won’t ever totally leave her.
She's got a hundred things on her desk every morning and another hundred more by noon.
And only the most important or problematic things reach her desk.
It can become overwhelming—if you care. And we both know Candace cares. "
"I just... I worry about her sometimes. Mel’s travel has put a lot of stress on Shell, Pearl’s been helping Dana, and I’ve been here helping more with Coop and Shell’s kids. Maybe this isn’t the best time for me to go. The kids will be here in a couple of weeks.”
"True. But the holidays aren’t usually conducive to heart-to-heart talks, JD—not in families with little kids running around.”
Jameson sighed.
“Listen, I understand why you’re concerned. I know Candace is looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with Cooper this weekend before the holiday chaos and then the craziness that will follow in January. I also know that the kids get their fill of us much faster than they once did."
Jameson chuckled.
"Maybe I can coax her into bringing Coop over on Saturday. I think she could use a little time out of?—"
"The hamster wheel?"
Cassidy laughed.
"She could use some time away from me and the kids. Not Coop," Jameson said. “I know?—"
"You don't need to explain, JD. We all need time away from our kids, our work, and our spouses."
Jameson laughed. "Looking forward to an Alex-free weekend?"
"No. And yes," Cassidy said. "She needs this time with Dylan. The same way you need some time with Marianne and Jonah."
"And you?"
"I always miss Alex," Cassidy confessed. "But I also know it's healthy to miss someone a little. It makes you appreciate them more."
"True."
"I'll see if your wife is agreeable to wine in a box or whiskey from a bottle."
Jameson laughed.
"If I don't see you before you leave, enjoy your weekend," Cassidy said.
"I will. You, too."
Alex traced the rim of her coffee mug. Working from home for a few hours allowed her the space to concentrate without distractions. Funny how the lack of distraction could become the biggest one of all.
The sound of the front door opening startled her.
"Alexis?"
"In here, Mom!" Alex called back.
Helen appeared a moment later. "What are you doing home?" she asked.
"Nice to see you too, Mom."
Helen rolled her eyes. "I'm happy to see you. I'm also surprised you're here."
“I do live here.”
“Cute.”
“I had some things to review. It's quiet here when the kids are in school. I thought I'd take advantage of the silence and Cass's coffee."
Helen peered into the full coffee cup. "How's it working out?" she asked lightly.
Alex chuckled. "Not the way I expected."
"Well, I'm going to grab some of that coffee."
"How come you're here so early?" Alex asked.
"I promised Connor and Abby I'd make spaghetti sauce."
"Tonight?" Alex asked.
Helen tried not to laugh. "Yes. Tonight. Why? Did you expect your wife to indulge your taco obsession before your trip?"
"No."
Helen laughed. "Very convincing, Alexis," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
Alex sighed softly.
"Okay," Helen said, taking a seat at the table. "Let's hear it."
"What?"
"What's going on? You may not like to think so, but I do know you, Alex."
Alex huffed.
"Well?" Helen urged.
"I don't understand what Dad was doing."
Helen took a sip of coffee and set down the mug.
"Do you know?" Alex asked. "Did he ever say anything about?—"
"Alex," Helen gently interrupted. "I didn't press your father about his work."
Alex nodded.