There Must Be a Way

No changes were made to the Senator’s schedule. She sat through her morning meeting with her Chief of Staff, in which she was brought up to date on everything that had occurred on the hill during her month long absence. She was then briefed by her policy advisors and afterwards by her legislative advisors, and when she finished touching base with her staffers, she proceeded onto the meetings with constituents that had been penciled in shortly before the recess. She had hoped it would only be a few meetings. That not many constituents had reached out for a private audience with her, but there were ten of them and each received twenty minutes of her time.

When she finally finished with her constituents, she had to go to the meeting for the Subcommittee on Immigration and the National Interest. They had to discuss which bills they would allow to reach the floor for a vote and which would be killed outright, and which they would leave on the table for the time being, just in case enough interest could be generated for them. Under normal circumstances, Paulina greatly enjoyed her time on the Subcommittee. It was a favorite area of hers and to have power over the policy agenda was thrilling, but on that day, try as she did to be fully engaged, she couldn’t manage it. To her peers, she sounded passionate enough and looked as she always did, but despite appearances, she was in mourning.

Prince Charles’ death had deeply distressed her. Had she been at all able to, she would’ve left work for the day and gone home to cry, but as the United States Senator from California, she could not allow herself to do so. That would’ve been political suicide. So instead she forced her emotions aside and went about her business. She attended to every single thing on the morning’s agenda, and when she had finished, when she finally had a sliver of time to herself, she decided to take full advantage of it.

She walked into her office with her head held high. Her staffers had spent the morning gossiping about what had happened, wondering how she was feeling. They had watched her closely, fully expecting her to cancel a meeting or to announce that she was going home, but she stayed there, and when she reentered her office, they watched as she walked right up to her personal secretary, Joanna. Joanna had been with the late Senator Stevens for 31 years. She had been hired straight out of high school, and had made a career out of keeping the office running smoothly regardless of where the Senator was at. It was only natural that Paulina reached out to her, and she was fortunate enough to have Joanna agree to take on the position.

“Welcome back Madam Senator,” she greeted her.

“Hello Joanna.” Paulina greeted. “How have things been in here? Do I have any messages? Any –?“

“All the major news outlets have reached out for a comment regarding the Prince of Wales,” she replied. “Ember has yet to give any official word. She has reiterated the fact that you will address them later in the day.”

“Not during lunch anymore?”

“No,” she replied. “Ember stated that it would be issued before the day’s end, but committed to no specific time. She does need to speak with you though. I told her she could have five minutes.”

“When?” asked Paulina.

“Right now,” answered Joanna. “She’s waiting for you in the office.”

“What about my lunch?”

“It’ll be here in five minutes.” Joanna hadn’t left anything to chance. “The intern is on their way back with it.”

“Very well, thank you.” With that conversation over, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside her private office. “Hello Ember,” she greeted her. “I’m sorry about all the crap you’ve been dealing with today. As if you don’t have enough to do with actual politics, now you have to deal with that.”

“Don’t apologize, Ma’am,” Ember replied. “There’s no need for it.”

“We’re in private. There’s no need for Ma’am.”

“Well then there’s no need to apologize, Paulina.” She stood as she waited for Paulina to take her seat. “How are you?”

“I would say fine, but you know me better than that.” Paulina smiled weakly. “I will be fine though. Just have to process it. I mean, this damn well wasn’t what I expected to return to.” She laughed bitterly. “For once, I was looking forward to being called a bitch by the GOP.”

“There’s still time for that.” Ember joked. “In fact, I’m sure I can find an article or at the very least a blog that’ll say that.”

“Well I’m glad they haven’t slacked off on their name calling.”

“It would’ve been an unpardonable offence.” Ember watched closely as the amused little smile that Paulina had momentarily worn, vanished. “Paulina,” she said softly. She knew what tone worked best for each situation. “It’s okay to be sad. You have every right to your emotions.”

“Do I though? It’ll be all they talk about for months.”

“We’ll give them something else to talk about.” Ember stated. “Your reaction will be given it’s time, but afterwards we’ll shove the minimum wage so far down their throats that they’ll barely be able to breathe. I already have an interactive website built, I only need the go ahead to launch it, and we have tons of literature to distribute. Just say the word. I’ll reach out to every major news outlet. We’ll make that the story.” She paused a moment before adding, “And if you don’t feel comfortable releasing a statement, then we won’t.”

“I owe him one.” Paulina said simply. “That man – I know a lot of people didn’t like him. They thought he was an asshole for putting Princess Diana through what he put her through, and I get that, I do. It’s just . . . he was always good to me. When the others treated me as nothing more than a vulgar American, he had my back. He treated me with nothing but kindness and the upmost respect, and . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep her from crying. “. . . and for that, and everything else he did for me, I owe him a public statement.”

“In that case, let me show you a few statements I prepared.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful, Ember. You’ve always gone above and beyond, but I have to do this. It wouldn’t be right not to.” Paulina owed him that much. “When I’ve finished, I’ll personally take it to you.”

“Very well,” said Ember. “One last thing, do you want this to simply be released or do you want to read it?”

“I’ll read it, but make it clear that I will take no questions.”

“Okay.” Ember stood. “I’ll partner with Joanna and Jeffrey to find an opening in your schedule, and I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Muchas gracias (thank you) Ember.”

“De nada (don’t mention it),” Ember smiled. “Do you want me to tell Joanna to hold your calls?”

“She already knows.” Paulina walked Ember to the door. “I’m just getting up to get my food. According to Joanna it’s supposed to be here as soon as this is over.”

And sure enough, when Paulina opened the door, a to-go bag was sitting on Joanna’s desk. She took the food into her office and locked the door behind her. The food was taken out of the box and set atop a placemat that she kept in her desk, but when she set down to eat the soup and salad, she found herself without appetite. Instead, it was tequila that she craved. So she went over to her bar area and poured a generous glass.

Right beside the bar she had a media center. It wasn’t much of a media center; there was only a stereo system and a carrying case that housed part of her CD collection. She was in the mood for Pavarotti, for some heart wrenching opera, but even in her office, she knew she wasn’t truly at liberty to feel what she felt. So instead she put on The Alabama Shakes.

The moment that Brittany Howard’s vocals tore through the silence, Paulina burst into tears. Finally she was free to feel. No one would hear her. No one would see. She was free to cry uncontrollably as she mourned the death of the man who had once been so close to being the grandfather of her children. She cried harder when she realized that now that he was dead, now that he would be in heaven, he would finally know of the existence of Thea. Would her little girl have been the first angel he encountered? In her heart, she felt she would’ve. In her heart, she felt her little Thea would’ve been waiting for him at the pearly gates, grinning all the while. The mere thought of Charles holding Thea, overwhelmed her.

“My baby has her Papa Charles . . .” she found herself whispering between sobs.

She stood there sobbing awhile longer, and when the tears somewhat subsided, she returned to her desk. She took a long drink for courage, and then reached into the last drawer of her desk. She took out all the crap she had in there, and when she reached the false bottom, she lifted it and then punched in the code to her personal safe. Inside, was an assortment of letters and pictures. There was nothing truly controversial or damning in there, but they were things that she preferred to keep private. And so she took out the little jewelry box, and opened it up to reveal the faded sonogram that acted as the only evidence that Thea had ever existed, beneath that were love letters that she and Francis had written during the seven months that he was in Boston and she was in Washington, and beneath all that, were a few pictures and letters from another life. She took the one from the top of the pile. It had been sent to her shortly after she won the Senate Seat, and she knew it by heart, but still she felt an inexplicable need to see the writing.



The letter had been personally delivered by one of Charles’ protection officers. He didn’t want to risk compromising her promising political career by having it fall into the wrong hands. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed by what he had written, but he knew that her opposition would use it as evidence that she was loyal to the crown. As such he sent a plain clothed protection officer to deliver it, and although Paulina initially hesitated, she eventually accepted it. The letter soon became one of her favorites. It was simple, but she knew Charles well enough to see the honesty and genuine love behind his words. He had been good to her. He had treated her like daughter, and the last time that they’d seen each other, back when she was in the hospital recovering from the accident, he had implored her to reconsider staying. He had offered her Highgrove as a place from which to recover, he had told her that he loved her and had hoped to legally have her for a daughter. He had even kissed her forehead before he left.

He had been good to her. He had been kind. He would’ve been a fantastic father-in-law and a loving and indulgent grandfather. She had nothing but love and respect for the man who had welcomed her into his family with open arms, for the man who had taken on his sovereign for her, to the man who had sent for a cake to be made to celebrate her graduation from Oxford. She thought about all that as she wrote the press release that her office would release to the world, and she cried as she wrote it, but in the end, when she signed her name – when she went to return the letter to the jewelry box, she saw a picture of her standing alongside Charles and Harry at Highgrove House. She had been so focused on the fact that Charles had died, so determined to do right by him in the statement she released, that she had completely forgotten about Harry.

He had lost his father.

The only parent he had left had died.

Suddenly, she felt faint. Her chest grew tight at the thought of his suffering. Where was he when he heard the news? Was he with William? Was he out with Skippy and Jake? Or was he alone? Her heart broke at the thought of him all alone, crying in some dark room, hitting the bottle hard, because Harry wasn’t good with grief. He had never gotten over his mother’s death, whenever the anniversary of it came around, he became an absolute mess. So how was he feeling with his father’s? How was he getting on? Was William there? Had his grandmother summoned him to Buckingham? Was Alistair at least there to make sure he was okay?

The more she thought about it, the more distressed she became. The twenty-second anniversary of his mother’s death had literally only been a couple days ago, so she knew Harry was still grieving that. It always took him awhile to pull himself together, it didn’t matter how many years had passed, whenever August 31 came around he took to crying and drinking a bit more than was good for him. So she couldn’t imagine how he was dealing with things. His heart was raw from mourning his mother and now – now all of a sudden he was confronted with the cruel reality of losing his father.

Tears streamed down her face as she thought of him crying somewhere. She was tempted to Google him, to see whether or not he was at least in the UK, because last she heard he was abroad in Africa, tending to his duties in Lesotho.

Overwhelmed, she allowed her emotions to take control and they did the only thing they could think of, they fished her private phone out of her briefcase and called the only person that could be of any help.

“Hello there Paulin,” came Alfred’s familiar voice. “You’ve called at the perfect time. I’ve only just pulled up to the house and I’m quite certain the girls will be thrilled to hear from their aunt.”

“D-D-Don’t give them the phone,” she stuttered out, her voice hoarse from all the crying. “Please don’t, Alfie.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, all trace of happiness gone from his voice. “Are you alright? Did someone try to hurt you again? I thought you had security! Aren’t they meant to –?”

“I’m alright, Alfie.” Paulina cut him off. “No one’s done anything to me.”

“Then why do you bloody sound like that?” he asked. “Because I know you’re voice and that’s not how it’s meant to sound.”

“It’s not,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is I need a favor.”

“Whatever it is, it’s done. Just name it.”

“I need you to dial a number for me,” she began, hesitantly. “And then I’m going to need you to leave the phone in a room.”

“What?” Alfred scrunched his nose in confusion. “Why would you –?”

“Please Alfred.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “Will you please do this for me?”

“I will,” he replied. “I just don’t understand why you can’t give whoever it is a wrong. Who could it possibly be that you can’t dial their – oh.” It suddenly dawned on him. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“What if it was?”

“If it was it’d be a stupid idea.”

“Alfred!”

“It would be!” he argued. “What business do you have calling him?”

“What business would I have?” she asked. “There’s nothing happening there.”

“Then why do you want me to give him a ring?”

“Because I can’t!” she cried out.

“And why the hell not?” he asked.

“Because if my phone records are ever subpoenaed they’ll see I called him and I can’t have that happen.”

“Well if you can’t have that happen, then you shouldn’t bloody well call him.” Even after nearly a decade, Alfred still despised Harry. “After all, what would Francis say?”

“You leave him out of this.” Paulina got on the defensive. “I’m not doing anything shady.”

“Then call him from your mobile!”

“You said you’d help!”

“That was before I knew what you were up to!” he countered. “You’ve no business calling him.”

Frustrated, she blurted out, “Haven’t you heard what happened to his dad?”

“I have, along with the rest of the world.” Alfred replied. “But it’s not your place to call him.”

“Then whose is it?” she asked. “Because after everything we went through, I owe it to him to give him a call.”

“Paulina –”

“He lost his dad, Alfie.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. “And I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“And what’ll you say to him?” Alfred thought it was stupid idea she’d ever had. “You get him on the phone and what then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why call?”

“Because I need to know he’s not doing something stupid.” She couldn’t help it, a fresh wave of crying struck her. “I know it doesn’t make sense, Alfie. Believe me, I know, but I have to know he’s not in any danger. I have to know that he’s okay. He’s lost so much already. He’s lost so much . . .”

“As have you!” he countered.

“And that’s why I need to make sure he’s okay, because I know how reckless people can get. So will you call him for me? Will you please let me check up on him? He might not even answer. I don’t even know if he still has the same number! It’s been years! But I have to try. I have to . . .”

“What’s the number then?”

“What?”

“His number,” he repeated. “Go on. Give it before I change my mind.”

Even after nearly a decade, she knew his number by heart. Alfred switched over to three-way calling and when he heard the phone start to ring, he told her that he’d give them some privacy. And so Alfred left the phone inside his car while he went upstairs to be with his wife and daughters.

Paulina held her breath as the phone rang. With each passing second she grew more and more afraid that he wasn’t going to answer. She was an idiot for thinking he’d have the same number. It had been eight years. Surely he would’ve changed it at least once by then. At some point during that time it might’ve been compromised, someone could’ve proved untrustworthy and leaked it.

Twenty seconds had gone by when she began contemplating whether or not she ought to hang up. She was just wasting her time. He wasn’t going to answer. It probably wasn’t even his phone anymore! But she couldn’t bring herself to hang up, because there was still the possibility that it might be his, and she had to wait – at least until the call went to voicemail.

And so she waited for the call to do so, she sat there with bloodshot eyes waiting for it to happen, but on the last ring the phone was picked up. She had rushed into the phone call, she hadn’t thought about what she would tell him, she hadn’t even thought about the effect that talking to him would have on her. All she had thought about was checking up on him, on making sure he was okay, that had been her sole concern, but when he answered, she went into shock.

“Hello?”

His voice was raspy, undoubtedly from all the crying he’d been doing.

“Hello?” he repeated once more. “Are you going to bloody answer or did you only ring to mess about?”

“I . . .” she began, hesitantly.

“You what?” he snapped, not recognizing her voice. “How did you get this damn number? I’ve only given it to a select few and you are most certainly not one of them. You better not be from the fucking press. If you are, I swear I’ll –”

“I’m not from the press.” Her voice was shaky. “I promise.”

“P-Paulin?”

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Her voice quivered. “When I found out, I couldn’t believe. It was like . . . I just – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you’re going through this.”

Harry was taken aback. He hadn’t expected to hear from her. After the way things ended, he didn’t think he’d ever hear from her again. So to have her on the phone, to be able to hear her voice welling with emotion the way it did, it was overwhelming. It overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t speak, and so he sat there in silence.

“I shouldn’t have called,” spoke Paulina after what felt like an eternity. “This was stupid of me! I should’ve listened to Alfie. He said not to, but I – I don’t know I had to. And I get that that was selfish of me. I didn’t even stop to consider the fact that you might not want to hear from me, and I – I’m sorry. I’ll hang up now. I just . . . I needed to hear your voice. I needed to know – well, I don’t even know what it was that I needed to know, but I’ll hang up now. I’ll –”

“I’m an orphan,” he croaked out before she could end the call. “I’ve no mother, no father.”

And for the umpteenth time that day, he lost it. He didn’t even try to control himself. The phone slipped from his hands as he hunched over and cried. He thought he’d have his father around for at least another twenty years, that he’d live to be at least ninety, but no – his last living parent had been taken from him and all Harry could do was cry. He might’ve been 34 years old, but he felt as helpless as he did when he lost his mother in his childhood. Only this time, he didn’t have his father to sit up with him at night, he didn’t have a parent to love him and tell him it would be alright. This time it was just him and Wills, and he didn’t even have Wills all to himself. Wills had a wife and would be taking on the responsibilities of the Prince of Wales, this time Harry was in it alone and so he cried out of desperation and sadness.