Free Jack's Widow by Eve Pollard Page B

fitting into a teeny baby-doll-style negligee of peau de soie, in palest pink.
    In one hand she held a copy of the Washington Post, open to an inside page, the headline referring to the nationwide success of the film set in Washington.
    Behind her was the clear outline of the headboard in the Lincoln bedroom in the White House. In front of her, lying on the pleatedcotton bedspread, were various private presidential folders both open and closed with their highly recognizable letterhead.
    On her knees, kneeling forward, the star is smiling, looking up. Her outstretched hand is being held by the photographer.
    The interlocked fingers are a little out of focus but there was little doubt who they belonged to.
    Consuelo James contended that the note and the photograph had been addressed to her and were therefore her private property.
    The president thought of the widow who had left so early and the nightmare of the days ahead.

CHAPTER Six
     
     
    F or the rest of his life Deck would wonder how he had ended up in his car with just the former First Lady by his side.
    For some reason as he left the White House driveway he headed north.
    Had she suggested it? Or had he taken that route because it seemed the best way to avoid photographers?
    For the first few minutes they drove in silence. He expected that her Secret Service men would catch up with them at any moment. When a few minutes and several miles had swirled by without their appearance, he consoled himself that they had been taken by surprise as much as he had.
    How had he been dragged off on this wild-goose chase?
    Twice he asked her if they were going in the right direction.
    All she did was nod. It was a while after they left the capital when he realized that they were not meeting up with the others. But she was so quiet, he felt he had no option but to continue.
    Maybe she had just seen him as a way of escape, he thought. Maybe the day had just driven her over the edge.
    She had been right about one thing, the streets and the roadswere empty. Just as they had sat in front of their television sets last November 22 so the nation had collectively returned there just twelve months later.
    He asked if she wanted more heat. He was worried about the cold. She hadn’t left his side in the White House so she was wearing no coat over the little black suit.
    She only smiled in response.
    He moved to switch on the radio but she put her hand out to stop him.
    “No noise, please, not after that,” she said.
    He was right, the quick escape, the silent treatment now. Today had spooked her.
    He would have to choose his words with care.
    He had no idea where they were going.
    This, being alone with Jackie, was just what he wanted to avoid.
    Like most people Deck didn’t know what to do with death. Both his parents had died when he was too young to learn. Like most people he was uncomfortable, didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do.
    After Dallas he had written, of course, not only to Jackie but to Rose and Joe and Bobby and Ethel too.
    He had known them all for so long. It felt as if a member of his family had passed away, except that he wasn’t, strictly speaking, related. Sadly for him, when they were mourning he rarely got the call; in this the Kennedys were self-sufficient. There were just so many of them, who needed more? So the Bobby lunches and dinners were a godsend.
    At first he felt that he was only grudgingly welcomed, because he didn’t rant and moan enough about the new president. Deck was aware of this but he just couldn’t bring himself to dance to another brother’s tune. It was only when he proved to be the most accurate of storytellers, the one who remembered all the little details, that he truly gained acceptance. He could always be counted on to describe exactly what had happened on this or that occasion. Suddenly Bobbyunderstood what his use to Jack, other than being an adaptable good-time guy, had really been.
    Deck would throw his mind back to fish