Balance of Power

    As Lara kissed him, he could feel the smile on her lips. "I'm not worrying about birth control."

    With that, the President and First Lady stopped talking altogether.

TWENTY-THREE

"I liked it when you danced with me," Marie informed the President.

    Together, Kerry and Lara laughed at an image from the evening before—Kerry in white tie and tails, scooping up a six-year-old in a frilly pink dress for a makeshift waltz. "We'll send you lots of pictures," the President promised.

    He had come to see off Lara's family; the motorcade waited at the East Gate, their suitcases already in the trunk. Quickly, Kerry said goodbye to each in turn, Joan last. "Come back soon," he requested. "And, please, call me if there's anything you need. I don't think there's much more I can screw up, and we want to see you two through the rest of this."

    Joan kissed him on the cheek, then gazed up at him, her face expressing gratitude, and more. "I still say Lara's lucky," she said, and then trundled Marie into the black limousine.

    Saying goodbye to Mary, it struck Kerry that, once more, the youngest was the last in line. "You don't have to wait for the others," he told her. "Part of being single is that you can come see us anytime."

    Smiling, Mary said she would, and then Lara squeezed her husband's hand. "Meet you at Andrews," she told him, and Kerry left for his national security briefing.

    First, however, he placed a call to the head of the San Francisco security service recommended by Peter Lake. "Have your people meet them at the airport," he requested of Tom Burns. "With all of this publicity, I don't want them bothered."

    "Mr. President," Burns answered, "it's as good as done."

* * *

    Amidst flashing lights and shrieking sirens, the First Lady and her family headed for Dulles Airport.

    Eyes narrowing in a mock wince, Inez murmured, "It gives me such a headache." But Marie could hardly contain herself—squirming in her seat belt one way, then the other, she watched the Metro police lead and follow on motorcycles, intersection by intersection, from the E Street Tunnel onto Interstate 66.

    "Why do they do that?" Marie asked her aunt. "The sirens and everything."

    "To protect us," Lara answered, and then, rather than explain the risks attendant to First Families, she resolved to focus on the intricacies of protection—the leapfrogging of motorcycles, the interplay of police and Secret Service, which kept Marie enthralled until the motorcade reached Dulles.

    They proceeded to an empty building in General Aviation, home to private planes, which was easiest for the Secret Service to secure. The airport police were waiting—from here, Peter had explained, the police would escort Lara's family to their gate, putting them on their flight before the other passengers. They had four first-class tickets, a gift from Kerry and Lara.

    Lara knelt in front of Marie. "I'm like Kerry," she told her niece. "I absolutely demand that you come back."

    Marie looked at her solemnly, then gave her mother a tentative glance. "Do you think we can bring Daddy?" she asked Lara, then looked hastily away. "If he's good to Mommy, I mean. I don't want him to feel bad."

    Lara and Joan shared a look of surprise; with a child's sensitivity to forbidden subjects, Marie had not mentioned her father since arriving. And yet, Lara knew, a child's desire for the archetypal family, a mother and father who loved her and each other, was profound, and the slow death of such a dream created damage of its own. At six, Marie still nurtured the dream, an image of family where her father did not feel the pain she felt. Kneeling, Joan put her arms around her daughter. "We'll see," she told Marie. "I want Daddy to feel better, too."

    Lara saw the ambiguity of Joan's answer reflected in the child's eyes. But there was little else to say. And so she kissed Marie's forehead and then, standing, hugged her sister. "I'm sorry," Lara told her. "Sometimes I'm a hard sister, I know. But I love you very much."

    Joan looked at her steadily. "So do I," she answered, and kissed Lara on the cheek. Suddenly, Lara recalled them sleeping together as children, heads beneath the sheets, whispering so their mother would not hear, innocent of all that would come. Silent, she held her sister close.

    But it was nearly time for them to go. Turning to Mary, Lara said, "I meant that bouquet for you."

    Mary flashed an ironic smile. "You can't manage everything, sis. But Marie's promised I can be her Maid of Honor."

    Lara kissed her mother last. "Go," Inez said firmly. "You'll be late for your own honeymoon." But she fought the tears in her eyes.

    Lara smiled at this. "I won't," she promised. "You have no idea what a good wife I'm about to be."

    In spite of her emotions, this elicited from Inez a look of wry humor. "Oh, I believe you, Lara. You've never failed at anything you wanted."

    Tentative, a policeman approached, waiting until Lara acknowledged him with a look. "Ready, Mrs. Kilcannon? We should get your family on the plane."