There Must Be a Way

“Absolutely not,” she said calmly. “While I am undoubtedly flattered that the President requested my presence, I must insistence to be left out of this.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

“Why is that?” She did her best to reign in the violent emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her. “If there must be a Congressional delegate then why not have it be someone in leadership? Take the Speaker or the Majority Leader. Let it be them.”

“You know as well as I that it can’t be them.”

“It’ll look bad!” she argued, momentarily forgetting herself. “Do you honestly want me to secure the noose around my neck and watch as you kick the chair out from under me? Because that’s what this is!” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain composure. “I have worked too hard to separate myself from their world. I can’t afford to be seen with them. Can you imagine the hell I’d be put through if I were to be photographed with him?” She didn’t dare say his name. Her heart ached at the thought of his suffering and she was terrified that if their paths were to cross, she’d do something reckless. “I would never recover from that. You know my career would take a devastating hit. So send someone else. I’ve no business attending that funeral.”

“Are you done now?” spoke Samuel. His tone sounded like that of a father who has patiently waited for their child to finish throwing a fit. “Or are you going to ramble on a little longer?” He watched as she shook her head. “Then let me tell you something, I want to keep you as far away from that funeral as possible.”

“Then why are you –”

“Let me finish,” he cut her off. “The President and myself feel it is in the best interest of the party to keep you from attending the funeral and being seen with the British Royal Family, but unfortunately for us, there are extenuating circumstances that require your attendance.”

“What circumstances?” she practically cried out. “You just said you don’t want me there!”

“But Buckingham does.”

“What?”

“An invitation to the funeral came directly from the Queen. It was personally delivered to the hands of the President by one of her protection officers. In said letter, she extended an invitation to the President, the First Lady, and a Congressional delegate – whom was handpicked by the Queen.”

“I –”

“She has requested your presence.”

“Of course she did,” said Paulina. “But tell me, who else knows about the invitation?”

“Only the President and I.”

“Has it been properly discarded?”

“The fireplace in the Oval Office saw to that.” Samuel assured. “There is no evidence to link your attendance to a request from the Queen. Everyone will believe it was the President who asked you. Now I understand that you don’t want to go. I understand it from a political standpoint and from a personal one. It’s best not to place yourself in a potentially compromising situation, but rest assured that we will take every possible precaution to ensure that you are at no point in time in direct contact with Prince Henry. We have even gone so far as to request that he not be there to welcome the President when he arrives in London.”

“You did that for me?”

“We look after our interests,” he said, nonchalantly. “The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge will be the ones to welcome the President. They have been informed not to expect any bows or curtsies.” He paused. “We don’t want you there, but if you must go, then you’ll be well looked after.”

Paulina sat there in silence, weighing her options.

“Who brought her invitation?” she eventually asked.

“One of her protection officers,” replied Samuel, unsure as to why that mattered.

“What was his name?”

If it was one of two names, she would go.

“His name?” he repeated. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“Kamal,” he replied. “President Woodbury said it was Kamal.”

At his name, she smiled. Kamal had defied direct orders from Harry, he had given her a fighting chance and sure things didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped, but he’d given her the opportunity and for that, she would be forever grateful.

“Alright then,” she said slowly. “I’ll go, but on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Ember and Jeffrey will accompany me,” she told him. “Along with my security, there’ll be two of them.”

“There’s no need for them on this trip. You’ll have Secret Service.”

“I’d rather have mine.” She told him. “So can all four of them be accommodated?”

“Is this really your condition? You can ask for time with the President. You can ask for a future favor.”

“I just want my staff.”

“Then yes, we’ll accommodate them, but tell them that they have to be ready to leave by – well, I’m not entirely sure what time the President will be leaving, but it’ll be after midnight. Once all the details are sorted, I’ll inform you of them.”

“That’s fine. They’re not going to say no to London.”

“Well in that case you’re free to go.”

“Before I do, there’s one last thing I want to ask.”

“Did you suddenly realize you do want time with the President?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m sure he’ll call me into his office at some point or another. What I do want to know is that if Francis agrees, can he go?”

“We can find room for him aboard Air Force One, that’s no problem, but I doubt there’ll be room for him at the funeral.”

“So long as I’m there, they’ll make room. You can depend on that.”

“Well then extend the invitation.”

And she did, except it wasn’t received as she had hoped.

“What do you mean you can’t go?” she asked him. “It’ll only be two days.”

“I get that, I do. It’s just that I have a hearing for that collusion case I’ve been working on. It’s scheduled for tomorrow, and there’s no way to get out of it. I have been pushing for months to get it before a judge and it’s finally happening, and I’m sorry Aurelia – I am.” He paused briefly. “If I could, I’d be there with you. You know I would. I don’t want you within a hundred miles of him, but I have to stay in Washington.”

“I knew it was a long shot, but I figured I’d still take it.” She smiled weakly. “I’m gonna go home then, got a lot of packing to do.”

“What time are you leaving?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Samuel just told me I had to be at the White House by one,” she replied. “I already have Ember and Jeffrey packing, and James and Wilson will get to the house before midnight.”

“And what time do you get back on Saturday?”

“We actually get back Sunday.”

“I thought you said it was only going to be two days.”

“Two business days,” she corrected. “We fly out Thursday, get there in the early evening and settle in. Then on Friday, there’s going to be something in Parliament. I can’t remember what it is exactly, but it’ll be a huge thing for all the politicians flying in, then on Saturday is the funeral, and later that same night, we’ll fly back.” She scrunched her nose in annoyance and said, “So much for our quiet weekend. All I wanted was to wear shapeless clothing and be lazy with you and Thea. Is that too much to ask for? Because it feels like the universe thinks its way too fucking much to ask for. I mean, why do I even have to go? Why do I have to be there? I hadn’t talked to him in nearly a decade? But now I’m going to the funeral and I don’t want to seem like an ingrate, but it’s just . . . I don’t want to go” Her nostrils flared. “I’ve never wanted to not go anywhere as much as I do this.”

“It’ll be alright though.” Francis knew she needed reassurance, and although he didn’t want her in direct contact with the British Royal Family, he knew it was his duty as her boyfriend to reassure her that everything would be okay. “You’ll be with the President and First Lady the entire time. And even if you were to be with contact with them, it’s not like you’ll be forced to be with them the entire time. There’s going to be a shitload of people there. Dignitaries from all over are going to fly out for this. So just relax. You got this.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” Her gaze dropped. “But being back there . . . I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “What happens if someone takes a picture of me and the Queen? Will they say that I’m conspiring with the monarchy? That after the death of the Prince of Wales, I want to give them the United States? Because as ridiculous as that sounds, there are going to be assholes that’ll say just that. And even worse, what if there’s a picture of Harry and I?”

“Why would there be a picture of you two?” Francis asked. His jealousy was poking through. “You’re not going to be hanging around him, are you?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” She raised her gaze to meet his. She felt guilty for having called Harry, guilty for having stayed on the phone for an hour with him, and guiltier still that Francis didn’t know she had. “I am going to actively avoid him! If I see him coming, I’m gonna find a way to get to the other side of the room, but even with that, at some point I’ll have to see him. I have to give my condolences! There’s no getting around that. You always give condolences to the family at funerals. And since it’s going to be broadcast internationally, there’ll be video of me shaking his hand.”

“Calm down, Aurelia.” Francis stared at her in confusion. “There’s no need for you to get so worked up.”

“Sorry.” She said, suddenly remembering herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I’m all over the place right now.” She reached out for his hand. “All I wanted was to start work on raising the minimum wage, but instead I’ve got to deal with this, and it’s not that I didn’t love him, because I did. Prince Charles is always going to hold a special place in my heart. Despite how everything turned out, he was always so good to me and treated me with such warmth and kindness, and I love him for that. I really do, and if things were different, I wouldn’t be so worked up over attending his funeral, but things aren’t different. I’m not just some lawyer. I’m a Senator who can’t afford this shit, but who’s being forced to go because her President called upon her.” She was keeping that lie. It was one of the conditions she had made Samuel and the President promise to. “So now I have to go. And I hope I don’t cry. I really fucking hope I don’t cry, because that’ll ruin me.”

“Then don’t ruin yourself.” Francis gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t let this put you in a hole that you have to spend the next year climbing out of. You are going to attend that funeral. You will treat it with the respect and solemnity it deserves, but you will not cry. Because you are a Kennedy and Kennedys never lose face.”

At that, her bottom lip quivered. She felt horrible for having called Harry. She should’ve listened to Alfred when he was trying to talk her out of it, but she’d been stubborn. The bit of her heart that had remained loyal to Harry had taken control, it had demanded to hear his voice, and that momentary control left Paulina in the awkward position of feeling as though she’d somehow cheated on Francis.

“What’s the quivering about?” asked Francis, confused as to why she looked as though she were about to burst into tears. “Was it something I –?”

In one fluid movement, she got on her tiptoes and with her free hand grasped Francis’ dress shirt so as to make him jerk forwards enough for her to capture his lips. It was an innocent kiss, their tongues never met, but it gave her the reassurance she so desperately needed.