Home Free - Fern Michaels [1]
The president struggled to make her words light even though her heart was breaking in a million pieces. How could she keep this returning hero’s dog? She couldn’t, and she knew it. “I did say that, and I meant it. Please, come in and make yourself at home. Looks to me like Cleo needs a few hugs and some Gus Sullivan love.”
The moment the door closed, Gus rolled his chair to the center of the room. The president gingerly sat down across from him. A second later, Cleo was in his lap. The president fought her tears again. Not so, Gus Sullivan. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he nuzzled the huge dog. “I missed you, girl,” he said in a choked voice. Cleo whimpered.
The president looked on. She didn’t know what to do. So she did nothing. She rang for a steward to bring coffee. God, she wanted a cigarette.
It took a good ten minutes for man and dog to calm down. “It looks like it worked out for the two of you. I knew it would. And thank you so much, Madam President, for sending me all those pictures over the Internet.”
The president swallowed and nodded. “Everyone loves her. She visits all the offices, and I think it’s safe to say that everyone here is her friend. She loves romping on the South Lawn. She likes Air Force One, and she absolutely loves the helicopter. She adjusted well, but she did miss you. We talk . . . talked about you every single day. I promised you I wouldn’t let her forget you, and it looks to me like you’re front and center.” Her eyes started to burn again.
Gus finished his coffee, motioned for the dog to jump off his lap, which she did. “I have to get back. My nurses are waiting for me outside. I promised I wouldn’t . . . they just let me out because I . . . Never mind, it’s not important.”
“You’re not taking Cleo with you?” the president blurted.
“Oh, no, ma’am. Is that why you thought I came here? I’d cut off my right arm to take her, but I can’t. I’ve got two more operations to go, then months and months of therapy ahead of me. Right now, I am so full of pain pills that I can hardly see straight. There’s no way I could take care of Cleo and these are her retirement years. She certainly doesn’t need to be taking care of me. I have way too much on my plate right now. The doctors told me that if there was a way for you to bring her by from time to time, they would allow it.”
The president’s insides turned to mush. “Consider it done. Would three times a week work for you?”
“Yessireee, that would work for me, Madam President. Lord, I can’t thank you enough for that.”
“Listen, Gus, how about if I leave you two alone for a few minutes? I think you might want to explain the situation to Cleo, although I think she already knows.” The president literally ran to the small powder room off the sitting room and closed the door. Her shoulders heaved as she tried to stifle her sobs of gratitude now that Cleo was going to stay with her. She dropped to her knees and offered up a prayer, a very short one but straight from her heart. Though her eyes were dry when she walked back into the room, they still burned.
“Gus, I know this is short notice, and I don’t know what kind of restrictions your doctors have you on, but I’d like to invite you to Camp David for Thanksgiving. Since this is August, I’m hoping you will be well on the road to recovery by then. If, for whatever reason, we can’t make that work, how about we plan for you to join Cleo and me over the Christmas holidays at Camp David?”
Cleo pranced and danced around Gus, urging him to comment. “I’ll see what I can do, Madam President, and I thank you for the invitation. Thanks . . . thanks for everything,” he said, suddenly shy.
“Don’t mention it. In here we’re just two people who love this dog. I’ll have my secretary make arrangements for Cleo to visit. You take care of yourself, you hear?”
Gus nodded.
“Cleo, I want you to give Gus a presidential escort out of this glorious building. Can you do that?” She hated seeing the look of pain on her guest’s