Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [123]
A youngish, gangly individual who looked uncomfortable in his boxy suit looked up at the president’s appearance, startled and pale beneath his African-American brown. He was already reaching for the portable defibrillator as he said, “Sir, are you feeling—?”
“Relax, I’m fine.” Carson sat down in the chair opposite the person known colloquially as Defib Man, the doctor who trailed after him in case he had a heart attack. “Sit, sit.”
The president looked over at the ultraportable computer Defib Man had set back on his lap. “Catching up on the news in the real world?”
“No, Mr. President, I’m e-mailing my daughter, Shona.”
“What school is she in?”
“Well, it’s a special school. She’s crazy about horses.”
“Does she ride English or Western? My daughter rides—”
“Neither, Mr. President. She’s got Asperger’s syndrome. She concentrates very well, especially on the things she likes, and in that sense she’s something of a genius, but she has no emotions.”
The president’s brow furrowed. “I don’t follow you. Surely she loves you and your wife.”
“She doesn’t, Mr. President, not in the normal sense, anyway. She doesn’t feel anything—joy, sorrow, fear, love.”
“And yet you said that she’s crazy about horses.”
“Yes, she’s discovered a way to breed them that’s some kind of breakthrough, though to be honest I don’t get it. They fascinate her, but on a level neither my wife nor I can fathom. Maybe they operate on her level, who knows? Basically, she’s in a world of her own making. It’s as if there’s a glass bell jar around her that nothing can get through. What makes it all the worse is that she’s perfectly self-aware. She’s a prisoner of her own mind, and she knows it.”
With a pang the president thought of his own daughter who, in hindsight, had been lost to him a long time ago, there was no use pretending otherwise. He couldn’t understand her the way Jack seemed to; worse, he was losing patience with her. Whatever she had gone through was over and done with, why couldn’t she put it behind her like a normal human being? There was only so much time he could devote to her and her issues. He was used to solving problems, not having them continue to unwind like an endless ball of twine. How the devil had he and Lyn given life to a creature who seemed to feel nothing toward them except contempt? Of course that begged the question of what he felt about her. Of course he loved her, he had to love her, she was his daughter. As such he would protect her with his life, but that didn’t mean he had to like her, or that he should accept who she was. What did she know of the real world, anyway? She exhibited only disdain at the compromises he had been forced to make in order to gain and retain his political power. These days his emotions tended to swing from praying she’d pull out of her depression or whatever the hell she was wallowing in to being fed up with her unacceptable and childishly narcissistic behavior. Lyn had always been in the habit of acceding to her whims and threats, never more so than now, but he was coming to the end of his tether.
Defib Man stirred uneasily causing Carson to think, Heartache here, too. We’re both unlucky fathers, there is no real difference between the two of us. He said, “I’m truly sorry . . .”
He was groping around in his memory when Defib Man said, “Reginald White, sir. Reggie.”
“Yes, of course. Reggie. Very good.” He trusted his kilowatt smile to burn away his lapse. “I’m hungry, Reggie. Are you hungry? What say we get something to eat?” He reached for a phone, but one of his protectors got there first.
“What can I get you, sir?” the Secret Service agent said.
“How about a burger—no, a cheeseburger deluxe. How would you like that, Reggie?”
White seemed slightly terrified, as if his world had been turned upside down. “Surely, Mr. President, you have more important things to do than have a burger with me.”
“As it happens, Reggie,