Page 3 of Air Force One
She and Andi had spent much of yesterday visiting Terrence in the hospital, her mentor since her first day with the NTSB. His hip replacement had gone well, mostly, but complications were keeping him in the hospital through her wedding. Tante Daniels, who’d been her childhood therapist and then governess after Miranda’s parents died, had a bad flu. They were streaming the wedding for the two of them and they’d already planned a party when both were doing better.
Despite Holly’s whining, Miranda had also invited the Director of the CIA, Clarissa Reese at the First Lady’s suggestion. They had worked together so often and Clarissa had always been nice to her.
Even this morning, after Terrence and Tante Daniels had cancelled, Holly had lobbied against Clarissa. They had never gotten along. She’s the unlucky thirteenth! But that wasn’t accurate. Firstly, statistically, thirteen was not any unluckier than other numbers. Second, with the White House photographer—who had groused about the images being for archival purposes only—and several Secret Service agents circulating as well, they were more than thirteen. And that didn’t count Meg at all. Her therapy dog might not count to others, but she definitely counted to Miranda.
The moment that Miranda forgot all about that was when she saw US Army Captain Andi Wu in her blue service uniform with all her medals on display. She might be a petite five-foot-two Chinese-American, but she looked terribly impressive—even if the top of her head didn’t reach Roy’s shoulders as they waited at the head of the Yellow Oval Room.
Rose and Lizzy had each warned her that the ceremony would go by in a blur. She had largely discounted that as they were both neurotypicals…yet they’d been right. In fact, the dinner in the President’s Dining Room and making married love with Andi as guests in the Lincoln Bedroom that night had also been a blur. One she’d very much enjoyed, but still a blur.
By this morning the effect had dissipated by at least fifty percent, though she estimated by less than sixty-five percent. It was so hard to judge her own emotional state. Others she simply didn’t understand, but she kept hoping that someday her autism would allow her to understand herself. Not yet.
Over breakfast with the First Couple, Roy kept teasing Andi about sharing Lincoln’s bed. Andi rarely blushed but she certainly did now. Miranda pointed out that the bed there probably wasn’t Lincoln’s. And the room had been his office in the 1860s and not his bedroom, so it was unlikely he’d had sex with Mary Todd in that room.
“You never know, Miranda,” Roy told her. “He was only fifty-six when he died. Trust me, I’m a decade older and I can tell you that he’d still have plenty of interest. Especially with the right lady.”
Rose offered a happy hum that sounded like agreement—even though Miranda hadn’t made a study of hum sounds—as she leaned over to kiss him.
“And you have to admit that married sex is a definite improvement over merely engaged sex.”
Miranda considered. “It is. Measurably.”
“Miranda,” Andi whispered as even the tips of her ears turned red.
“Young things like you two probably had plenty of energy,” Roy continued. He winked for reasons that were unclear.
“We did.”
“Miranda!” Andi hissed out her name—and turned even redder.
“But it’s true. You were amaz?—”
“Just…stop, okay?”
“Okay.” She stopped.
It was only as they were leaving the White House that she fully descended from the heady event and felt as if she once again inhabited her own body. Perhaps it was the freshness in the air of the unusually spring-like temperatures in January, snowdrops were already peeking out around the bed edges in the Rose Garden and the crocuses were exploring the above-ground world with the first tentative spears. The thin cirrus clouds stretching across the brilliant blue sky were very…she wasn’t sure what, but she liked them, too.
It didn’t matter what. Everything felt…better. She looked down at herself. It was her own body, but with a gold band now on her left ring finger. She’d never worn jewelry of any kind before, but it looked pretty and it matched Andi’s, so that too was a good thing. Andi had been right about that.
She’d also been right about the idea of traveling to meet the wild horses of Chincoteague Island for their honeymoon. Especially the rescue and rehab center, as that’s what Miranda had turned her former island home into. Miranda had never had horses on Spieden Island, but she missed her sheep, deer, and flocks of birds that had been stocked there years before she’d inherited it.
Sadly, the wildlife near their new property in the Cascade foothills in Washington State visited her only rarely. Their property backed onto tens of thousands of acres, and the animals could wander away at any time they wished. She had yet to make friends with any of the deer or elk, though there was a rabbit she was growing close to. It probably deserved a name, but she hadn’t found the right one yet.
This morning, they’d journeyed out to Andrews Air Force Base in the Marine One helicopter that smelled of lemon-scented cleansers with the slightest overtones of hot grease from the engines. They waited to see Roy and Rose off on his final foreign relations journey as President—a European and African goodwill tour. Drake stood by the airstairs as he was joining them aboard Air Force One.
After the President and First Lady worked the press line, all of the reporters rushed to the back stairs to board the plane. Anyone not in their seat when the President boarded got left behind. There were more still on the ground, waiting to take the usual departure shots, but the Secret Service kept them back as she, Andi, and the First Couple moved to the foot of the front stairs before stopping to chat.
“You know,” Roy paused with his foot on the bottom step, “If you’d gotten married today, you could have had the wedding in the Rose Garden.” It was thirty-six degrees warmer than yesterday, an April temperature in January, so it was comfortable to do.
“But Roy, there wouldn’t have been any roses in bloom for months yet.”
In answer, he returned from the step, kissed her on the forehead, shook Andi’s hand, and ascended the stairs. Rose’s hug had turned out to be very nice—and thankfully brief. She couldn’t tolerate contact lasting more than a few seconds other than from Andi. Miranda and Drake traded fist bumps, which they’d recently worked out between them as being both personal and the briefest possible contact. He’d saluted Andi very formally, and she’d saluted back.
When Miranda asked why she was crying, Andi just shook her head and wiped away the tears.
Then the Beast, as the President’s limo was called, which had been sent ahead as a diversion of possible attack at the same time as the Marine One flight, waited to take them to the nearby Potomac Airfield. There they’d pick up their rental helicopter to fly out to Assateague Island. Miranda felt a little disappointed not to have the rest of the motorcade travel with them, as she was curious about what that looked like from the inside.
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