3 Thank God it's Monday by Robert Michael Read Free Book Online Page B

breath and glanced at the Captain who had
already begun to return to the jet. Jake noted the lines of worry on her face.
    “The Senator is generous, Hallie. Just go and I will meet
you and Macy back at the house in two days. I will even take out the dry
cleaning and organize the garage.”
    She smirked.
    “You won’t remember where everything goes.”
    He grabbed her hands in his.
    “I will just start it all anew. The same thing for us,
Hallie. I don’t always remember everything, but I am committed to the present
moment. I am committed to you. It tears me up to let you go even for just two
days. We have no real choices. Our family is our priority now,” Jake explained.
    She looked worried.
    “The Senator wants you to save the world and you are worried
about us? What kind of hero are you, Monday?”
    Jake felt a stab of pride and wonderment at this woman with
so much confidence in him.
    “I’m no hero, Hallie,” he said, his voice choked with
emotion. “I just want to make up for what I have done. I know it will never be
enough, but I still have to try.”
    She shook her head.
    “You don’t have to atone for anything, Jake. Just get your
butt back to us in one piece.”
    He hugged her, pressing her hair into his face. He needed
her strength. He watched her scale the steps, glancing back and waving. He
would miss her. He knew in the hours ahead he would probably regret letting her
go. He swore then that he would never do this to her again. If another time
presented itself.

Chapter 6

Wings like Eagles
    E ven with the view from south-facing windows, the
approximately eight hundred square feet of the oval room felt like a prison. The
most comfortable prison ever constructed. He held a folder in his hand,
astounded that it was not an iPad or a tablet. So much has changed in
technology, but I still hold a manila folder in my hand , he thought.
    He hated waiting on people. He was the President of the
United States. He should not have to wait. He smiled in spite of himself. He
was prone to these bouts of self-importance and pouting lately. Gabriel Scott
Vine, 46 th President, would not live to see the 47 th President take office. That was a sobering and depressing realization.
    It was obvious to him that he would not avoid being murdered
at some point. It was everything he could do just to prevent his son from being
the one who pulled it off.
    More security would not solve the problem. The bunker was
out of the question. In the meantime he had to continue to rule and to hope
that his son was safe.
    He had avoided telling Catherine. She would only tell him to
have Jake jailed. Or worse. He did not need that headache on top of everything
else. It was a struggle to consider the nation he served in the face of
imminent, inescapable death. He had to pay for his past sins in some manner; he
just wished it would be something less definite. Less final.
    A furtive knock sounded at the west door.
    “Come in.” He knew it was not Carol, his assistant secretary.
She had left for the evening.
    The sun had not completely set yet. Catherine would be
waiting for him. She had the kitchen staff on hold. Special day. The day they
met at a rally just over a decade ago. He was never so sentimental, but he
understood that Cat held some days special above others. He usually humored her
and managed to get flowers or a special gift. He gave Carol the order to send
the flowers with a note that he would be late. A note. Should have been a text.
Or a tweet.
    “Mr. President.” The gravelly voice was familiar and always
gave him a sense of peace and safety. He needed that right now.
    Gabriel turned, forcing a warmth that he did not feel.
    “Harold. I am glad you came. I have some more issues I want
to discuss.”
    “About your son?”
    “Yes. About Jake,” he gestured to the chair on his left. “Come
sit.”
    He sat at the Resolute desk, its wood almost two centuries
old. Something about the size and age of the desk gave him comfort.