Domestic policy, p.1
Domestic Policy, page 1
part #13 of By Design Series
DOMESTIC POLICY
JA ARMSTRONG
© Copyright 2020 Bumbling Bard Creations
All Rights Reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
Alarm clocks be dammed. Candace wasn’t sure why she bothered to set alarms. She received calls twenty-four hours a day. She often laughed when she heard reporters refer to “the president’s schedule.” A schedule would be refreshing. Seldom did Candace Reid’s daily activities follow the schedule she’d been handed. She rolled over and wrapped her arm around Jameson.
Jameson pulled Candace into her arms. “Please tell me you intend to ignore that.”
“I shut it off, didn’t I?” Candace replied.
“Do you think they’d let you call out sick?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“If you need to—”
“What I need is to lie here a while longer,” Candace confessed.
“You have been keeping an insane pace, even for you.”
“The midterms matter. Finding the right candidates isn’t easy. Funding them is harder.”
“I know. You need a bigger majority in Congress.”
“If I hope to get my agenda passed—yes, I do. It isn’t only that.”
“No?”
Candace propped herself up on an elbow. “Somehow, we have got to push through these partisan divides. I’ve never seen it like this in my lifetime. And I’ve seen things get contentious.”
“And you think more Democrats in office will help?”
“No. I think advancing some policies that people will feel in their pocketbooks and their homes will help.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?” Candace was always curious to hear Jameson’s perspective. Jameson didn’t approach matters of state, issues on the campaign trail, or stories in the press with a political approach. She didn’t hold back truth. She had only one concern: Candace’s welfare. “Tell me what you’re thinking?” Candace requested.
“I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
“I’m accustomed to listening to things I’d prefer not to hear.”
“I just think there is blowback.”
“Blowback?”
“Yes. To you. To us.”
“Because we’re lesbians?”
“You know there is,” Jameson said. “You’ve said it yourself a million times.”
“True. But I’m not sure that’s what’s driving the wedge between the parties.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Fear.”
“Of?”
“Change.”
“Like I said—”
“I agree. We’re the poster women for that change,” Candace confessed.
“But?”
“What people fear is losing their place,” Candace said. “A level playing field terrifies them. You know that as well as anyone.”
“I know you are determined to level that field.”
Candace collapsed back into Jameson’s arms.
“You’re worried about something?” Jameson surmised.
“Not worried. Aware.”
“Go on.”
“History would suggest that when we fail to create fairness, we have it created for us.”
“You mean like a war?”
“No. Wars are never fair. They don’t even odds, Jameson. Wars are all about power. Every one of them.”
“Okay. A tornado?”
“Something like that—yes.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Jameson asked.
“I can’t tell you something I don’t know,” Candace replied.
“Tell me what you do know.”
Candace gripped Jameson tighter.
“It’s not finding or funding candidates that’s keeping you up at night,” Jameson said.
“It’s everything.” Candace closed her eyes. “Right now, I’d like to forget about it all.”
“Or you could pray a little.”
Candace shook lightly with laughter.
“Too tired?” Jameson guessed.
“No. Too comfortable.”
Jameson stroked Candace’s back. “How long do you think we have before the phone rings?”
“I don’t know. I don’t intend to move until it does.”
“Good.” Jameson kissed Candace’s head and felt her relax.
Sleep wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity. Candace struggled to rest for weeks. She’d always kept long hours. Jameson continued to marvel at her wife’s stamina. She also worried about Candace’s wellness. Leaving it at the office was not an option for The President of the United States. Office hours didn’t end. She found it laughable when anyone in the news media faulted Candace for taking a few days of vacation. She doubted she and Candace would enjoy a full day of vacation until Candace’s presidency ended. They’d hadn’t been in the White House for a year. Jameson would never admit it, but sometimes she hoped this adventure would end at the four-year mark. Only sometimes. Lately, sometimes seemed to be a more frequent occurrence. Nothing mattered to Jameson more than Candace’s welfare. She was grateful that Candace chose to indulge in a quiet morning.
“Stop worrying about me,” Candace advised.
“That is never going to happen.”
“I know when to slow down.”
Jameson tensed.
“I do.”
“You know when you have no choice but to slow down,” Jameson corrected her wife. “You push yourself to the limit.”
“I’m all right.”
“I know. You’re not happy.”
Candace sat up and looked at Jameson. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re not.”
“Jameson, I am happy. I’m happy with us. I’m happy with our family and—”
“Are you happy in this job?”
“I’m gratified.”
“Not happy?”
“Gratified,” Candace repeated. “There are moments when I am ecstatic to be in this house, to walk its corridors, and to govern.”
“But?”
“There are also times it’s daunting. The world isn’t black and white, Jameson. I wish it were. We’ve talked about this a million times. Most days, I don’t have a perfect solution to anything. I have choices to make—educated guesses. No matter what direction I take, someone benefits, and someone doesn’t. I have to try to make sure no one suffers in the process. Sometimes, that’s unavoidable.”
“I know. I worry when you don’t rest, Candace. I never want to get a call again that you—”
Candace stopped Jameson in her tracks with a kiss. Candace had only been hospitalized a handful of times. She seldom got sick. That was because she made her health a priority. The one thing Candace always struggled to master was rest. Jameson still reeled from Candace’s gallbladder surgery. It wasn’t the surgery that lingered for Jameson. It was the call from Michelle that she thought Candace was having a heart attack. Jameson confessed she’d never been as scared. Candace understood that part of Jameson feared the worst might happen one day if Candace didn’t slow down. “I’m all right, Jameson.”
“Stress is the silent killer, Candace. You are under more stress than any person on this planet.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“No?”
“No. I know you worry about me. I promise, I won’t push past what I can handle.”
Jameson scoffed at that assertion. “Yes, you will.”
“I—”
“We both know you will. Don’t expect me not to call you out on it when you do.”
“Fair enough. Now, can we lie down a while longer?”
“As long as you want,” Jameson replied.
“Just for a while.” I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.
***
“Late start?” Don Milton asked.
“Boss’s prerogative,” Candace replied dryly. “What do you have for me?”
Milton handed Candace the Daily Security Briefing.
Candace lowered her glasses and opened the file. “Give me a half hour to review this.”
“You have a meeting with the Senate Minority leader at 10:30.”
“It’s 9:30,” Candace said.
“Yes, but don’t you want to—”
Candace peered over the top of her glasses. “I want to review this briefing. In silence. 10 a.m., Don. You can bring the team in at 10 a.m.”
“Yes, Madame President.”
Candace sighed when her Chief of Staff turned to leave the Oval Office. “And, Don?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure all my calls are held until then.”
“All of them?”
“Unless it’s an emergency.”
“What about Jameson?”
“Unless it’s an emergency.”
Milton nodded.
Candace returned her focus to the document on her desk. A myriad of topics kept her up at night. She was anxious to dive into today’s briefing. Its purpose was not to provide minute details of everything that might threaten national security. It outlined hot spots, burgeoning issues, and potential threats of every kind—anything th
China always enjoyed a sizable section of the morning brief. There were notes about trade, about China’s relationship with allies and adversaries, military movements, and always a line or two about potential new viruses. For the last week, what normally spanned a sentence or two had grown to a paragraph, then two, now three. Candace feared that without more detailed information, this section would take over the entire document soon. She reviewed the latest information. She read it again, and then a third time. She picked up her phone. “I need Joshua Tate. I also need Don back. Five minutes ago.” Candace pulled a pen from her desk and circled a few key phrases. “I don’t like this.”
***
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Pearl observed.
Jameson sipped her coffee and nodded.
“Don’t tell me. Candy decided to take a vacation.”
“If you call spending an extra hour in bed a vacation—yes.”
“A whole hour?” Pearl teased.
“No kidding. I’ll take it. Pearl?”
“Hm?”
“Has Candace seemed—I don’t know, stressed to you the last few days?”
“You mean more than usual?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know if she’s stressed. There’s clearly something weighing on her mind.”
Jameson groaned.
“Didn’t tell you what it is, huh?”
“No. I have a feeling it’s because she doesn’t know what it is.”
“Well, she does deal with some obscure things,” Pearl commented.
“It’s not like her.”
“What’s that?”
“I mean, it’s like her to be concerned. I haven’t seen her this restless since she thought we might lose custody of Coop.”
Pearl set down her cup of coffee. “That’s not good.”
“No.”
“Well, you know Candy. She’ll tell you first when there’s something she can say.”
“I know. Until then?”
“All you can do is what you do every day.”
“Which is?”
“Be there for her when she’s ready.”
“Great.”
“Maybe you and Candy should get away with Cooper for a couple of days,” Pearl suggested.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I don’t know if Candace will be open to that.”
“Don’t ask.”
Jameson laughed.
“I’m serious,” Pearl said.
“Are you hoping to have this place to yourself?”
“Jameson, do I ever have this place to myself?”
“You could come with us.”
“No. I think you three could use a little time together.”
“I guess we’ll see what she says.”
“I told you, don’t give her the option.”
“Pearl, she’s the president.”
“Not before she’s your wife.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Don’t ask—tell.”
Jameson chuckled.
“Ha-ha. I didn’t say, don’t ask, don’t tell. I said, tell.”
“Can I quote that as policy?”
“If you think it will work.”
It might.
***
It was a rare occurrence that Joshua Tate noted weariness in President Reid’s eyes. The first months of her first term in office were fraught with crisis. Most times, the public had no idea of the challenges a president confronted. Candace proved masterful at deconstructing problems before they developed into full-blown disasters. That was her job, and she was determined to execute her duties as faithfully as she’d promised when taking the Oath of Office. Today, Candace’s eyes crinkled with concern rather than consideration.
“What do we know?” Candace asked.
“It’s sketchy,” Tate confessed. “There’s no question that a novel virus has infected people. How many? How virulent?” Tate sighed. “It’s China, Madame President.”
“Who do we have on the ground?” she inquired.
“There are a couple of doctors embedded in their health service.”
“Known or unknown quantities?”
“Both,” Tate replied.
“Get them on this. Now.” Candace turned to Don Milton. “Arrange a call with President Wu.”
“That’s not—”
Candace held up her hand. “Make it happen, Don.”
“When?”
“Yesterday wouldn’t be too soon.”
“You realize he’s not likely to be transparent,” Don reminded her.
Candace stopped herself from an uncustomary outburst. Of course, she knew. She took a deep breath, then another, and then a third. “I will handle President Wu.”
“Candy—”
“Stop,” Candace warned her Chief of Staff. She directed her attention back to Tate. “Who would know?”
“You mean the best way to approach the conversation?” Tate asked for clarification.
“Yes.”
“We have a few experts on China.”
“But?”
“If I were going to ask someone how to approach Wu, I’d ask Jane.”
Don Milton snapped to attention. “Merrow? Why would the former First Lady have information about Wu?”
“Jane knows him,” Tate gave as a reply.
“Visiting with his wife on a State trip hardly—”
“She knows him,” Tate said flatly.
Candace nodded her understanding. “I want to hear from your experts as well.”
“I figured,” Tate replied.
“Don? Have someone get Theresa on the line.”
“At least, there’s one directive that’s easy to make happen,” he said.
Candace grinned. “And, call the Senate Minority Leader. I want to reschedule for tomorrow with the Gang of Eight.”
“That might be premature,” Don offered.
“No such thing,” Candace disagreed. “Make it happen.”
“Anything else?” Don asked.
“If you have a crystal ball or a magic potion, I’ll take it,” she deadpanned.
Tate laughed. “Do you want me to call Jane?”
“No. That one I can handle myself.”
***
“JD, you know that I understand.”
Jameson grimaced. Mitch Daniels was a newbie on the First Family’s security detail. Jameson made it her practice not to make special requests. In fact, she made every effort not to make any requests at all. That policy extended beyond White House Staff and the Secret Service. She did her best not to ask more of Candace than Candace confronted daily as president. It didn’t take her long to understand what her role as First Lady, or as she preferred to say, First Spouse, entailed. She had her agenda. That agenda entailed helping to support and draw attention to the addiction and mental health problems that lead to incarceration, homelessness, and a host of other issues. She was focused on adoption and reforming and supporting the foster care system. She made appearances on behalf of Candace. She “pressed the flesh” as Candace liked to call it, so the president could focus on governing. Jameson’s primary role was to support Candace emotionally. Most days, listening to Candace, giving her space without demanding her time, encouraging her, and taking what she could off Candace’s plate with their family met the requirements of being the president’s wife. Occasionally, she needed to take an active approach. Something was on the horizon. Jameson didn’t know what drove Candace’s restlessness. It could be an economic downturn, a potential terrorist plot, a foreign plan to interfere in elections or other state affairs, or a threat from within. It could be anything. She had reason to believe it was more than one thing. Candace needed to take a breath before the next impending storm arrived.
“I realize it’s a big ask.”
