Set twenty-four years after the events of When Mercy Died, the story shifts focus to the hero’s son—Sam Stanton Jr., or simply Junior—who has been trained and prepared to follow in his father’s footsteps. Now, it is his turn to take center stage.
Father and son are drawn into a perilous political conspiracy after receiving confidential intelligence from within the White House. They uncover that members of Congress have been coerced into backing the President’s aggressive plans to dominate foreign nations. Determined to expose the corruption, they turn to The Washington Post, believing that shining a light on the President’s unlawful actions could lead to his impeachment and removal from office.
Their efforts succeed in part: both the President and Vice President are impeached by the House of Representatives. But in the Senate trial, the required two-thirds majority for removal falls short. Disillusioned and fearful for the nation’s future, Sam and Junior resolve to take matters into their own hands—through drastic, irreversible measures.
Amid the turmoil, an unexpected romance blossoms between Junior and the President’s daughter. Their relationship introduces a poignant emotional layer, intertwining themes of love, loyalty, and moral conflict with the high-stakes world of political intrigue.
The rain battered the White House grounds relentlessly,
drenching everything in sight. Sheets of water cascaded from
rooftops, pooling on the walkways, while the wind carried the
storm’s fury through the trees.
Despite the early morning hour, Secret Service agents
remained at their posts, unwavering beneath the shelter of
overhangs. Their sharp eyes swept the darkness, scanning for
threats, their earpieces crackling with occasional radio chatter.
It was four a.m., and much of the grounds lay swallowed
in thick, impenetrable blackness.
Had one of the agents been stationed farther out on the
south lawn, away from the protective glow of the floodlights,
he might have witnessed something extraordinary—a massive,
unseen presence descending silently onto the rain-soaked
grass. It was invisible to the naked eye, yet the faintest hum
accompanied its arrival, so subtle it would have gone unnoticed
unless one stood dangerously close.
The moment it touched down, a panel slid open with an
almost imperceptible whisper. A ramp extended from the void,
but no light escaped from within. The darkness inside was as
absolute as the night itself.
Then a figure emerged.
Like the vessel, he was unseen, moving with deliberate
precision. The ramp retracted. The panel closed.
Through the downpour, the invisible intruder advanced
toward the South Portico, where two agents stood beneath
the glow of overhead lamps. They spoke in hushed tones, their
gazes sweeping the lawn periodically, unaware of the presence
slipping past. Behind them, the door leading to the Blue Room
soundlessly opened, then closed. A few seconds later, the door
to Cross Hall followed suit.
The figure moved quickly, purposefully, through Entrance
Hall, up the Grand Staircase to reach the second floor—the
private domain of the First Family.
The door to the West Bedroom opened and closed, and a
few seconds later it opened and closed a second time, as if the
presence was searching for something or someone that was
not there.
Ten seconds later, the door to the East Bedroom opened
and closed, and a few seconds later it opened and closed a second
time.
Finally, the door to the Lincoln Bedroom opened and
closed. This time, it did not open and close a second time.
Inside, a woman lay sleeping, her breathing steady,
unaware of the presence now sharing the space with her.
A dim lamp on the desk opposite the bed cast long, jagged
shadows, warping the room into something surreal. Papers
and books lay scattered across its surface—remnants of a late night
study session. Had she been awake, watching the door,
she would have witnessed something impossible: a man materializing
from the air itself as he moved toward her bed.
He reached her in seconds.
A firm hand clamped over her mouth.
Her eyelids fluttered open, unfocused in the semi-darkness.
For a fleeting moment, confusion flickered across her
face as her mind struggled to make sense of the shape looming
above her.
Then panic. She thrashed instinctively, but his grip was
unyielding. Her thoughts raced.
Stay still.
Don’t resist.
Don’t make him angry.
“Don’t be alarmed. I only want to talk to you,” the man
said. “I apologize for waking you the way I did. I’ll remove my
hand and not touch you again if you promise not to scream
or call for help. Please nod if you’re willing to promise that.”
The woman thought about her predicament. Was he being
truthful, or was it a ploy to prevent her from shouting for
help? She couldn’t make up her mind, but she wanted him to
remove his hand, so she nodded.
“What do you want from me?” she asked him when he
withdrew his hand.
“You agreed to promise you wouldn’t scream or call out.
Please promise me that before I answer your question.”
“I promise as long as you don’t hurt or assault me. What
do you want from me?” she repeated.
“As I said, I only want to talk to you. I’m aware you’re
being held here against your will by your father, the president,
and the only way I could think of to discuss that with you is
by sneaking into your room at night.”
“I don’t want to talk to you about that or anything else.
You’re a horrible person for giving me the fright of my life.
I won’t be able to sleep for days, knowing someone like you
could come into my bedroom.”
“I know, and I apologize again, but my intentions are
totally honorable.”
She thought he was lying. How could his intentions be
honorable after he invaded her bedroom in the middle of the
night?
“Explain yourself in that case.”
“So you agree to discuss your predicament with me?”
“I only want you to explain to what extent your intentions
are honorable. That can’t be classified as a discussion.”
“True, Jocelyn. May I call you Jocelyn?”
“No, you may not!” she said, almost shouting.
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to call you Miss Thompson
instead?”
“I don’t want you to call me anything. Tell me about your
so-called honorable intentions, then leave and never come
near me again!”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I understand, considering
the circumstances. I’ll explain.”
The president’s daughter pushed her pillows against the
headboard and sat up, instinctively pulling the blankets to her
chin. Her breath was shallow, her pulse a steady drumbeat in
her ears.
Her eyes locked onto the man standing beside the bed.
He looked young—no older than twenty-four or twenty-
five, around her age. His form was clad entirely in black,
the fabric sleek—some kind of uniform. It covered him from
head to toe, save for a head covering that lay folded at his
shoulders—like a hood.
She studied his face, searching for something—anything—
that might explain who he was and why he was here.
The dim glow from the desk lamp did little to illuminate
his features, but even in the low light, she could see he was
strikingly handsome. His face was symmetrical, his features
sharp yet not severe. His hair, a tousled blond, stuck up in
unruly spikes. Was it from the head covering? Or was that
simply how he wore it?
His expression was unreadable. Solemn.
He made no move, no sound.
And she had no idea why he was here.
“As I said a moment ago, I’m aware you’re being held
against your will here by your father. You don’t agree with
what he’s done in the months since his election, like withdrawing
from every possible treaty and agreement with other
countries and organizations like the UN and NATO, to embark
on his USA One and Only program.
“But then you discovered he’d used malicious means to
secure the support he needed for the program from members
of Congress. You discovered papers to that effect here at the
White House, and you confronted him with them, threatening
to leak the papers to the media if he didn’t stop what he was
doing. That’s when he confined you to this part of the White
House and took away your cell phone and tablet.”
“How do you know all that?” Jocelyn asked him, her eyes
wide with surprise.
“One of the advisors who worked for the previous president
told me. When the advisor met your father after he was
elected, your father, in no uncertain terms, told him he wasn’t
needed due to differences between them that were too large
to bridge. When your father retained part of the White House
staff, he didn’t consider the possibility that some weren’t
sympathetic to what he’s doing, and the advisor I just referred
to has been kept informed of developments. He asked me to
meet with you to possibly arrange your escape. He would like
to see you inform the media of what you’ve found out.”
“What’s the name of the advisor?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”
“The only advisor I know who fits what you’ve described
is the person everyone calls Guardian. He was respected by
everyone here at the White House, including me. When I was
an intern for the previous president, I was attached to his
staff. He’s disappeared and no one knows where he is. I need
to meet with him to tell him what I’ve found out. He’d know
what to do.”
Jocelyn looked downcast when she said this. Both were
quiet for a while. If she had looked closely at the face of the
man standing next to the bed, she would have noticed a look
of unease flicker across his features.
“So, do you want to escape from here?” the man said in an
effort to resume their conversation.
“Yes, but how? There are Secret Service agents everywhere.”
“Come with me. I’ll take you out of here.”
“You’re crazy. The whole idea of coming here to wake me
up like you did, to suggest I try to escape, is crazy.”
“I’m sorry. I was hoping you’d trust me enough to let me
take you away from here.”
“You have a vivid imagination and an irrational view of
the predicament I’m in. If we left this room together, you’d
be shot, and I’d be captured. I’d no longer be able to freely
roam the rooms on this floor and the next. I’d be confined to
just this room and the adjoining sitting room, with a Secret
Service agent at the door.”
“I’m willing to take my chances, just like I did in coming
here. Trust me, we’ll make it.”
Jocelyn hesitated. She again studied the face of the man
who had invaded her privacy and woken her so cruelly from
the sleep she so badly needed after everything that had happened.
She was tired and anxious about being held captive.
There were so many things she wanted to do that had now
become impossible. She hated this man who was suggesting
she should trust him. The idea of going with him to escape
was ludicrous.
But as she sat there looking up at him, he returned her
steady, intent look in a way that made her reconsider her earlier
decision that he was crazy. He had, after all, made it to her
bedroom without being discovered. He might just be able to
help her escape. A strange feeling overcame her, and then a
sudden surge of adrenaline gave her courage.
“Okay, I’ll go with you.”
“Good. I want you to wear this suit.” He took off the
backpack he was carrying and pulled a suit from it. “It’s like
mine—black.”
Jocelyn threw the blankets aside, got up, and stood in
front of him.
“Take off your pajamas. This suit needs to fit over bare
skin.”
“But I’m not wearing anything underneath except for my
panties.”
“I suspected that. I’ll look away while I help you put it on.
You don’t need to take off your panties.”
Jocelyn was surprised to find herself agreeing to his help
while she was largely naked. She found it hard to accept that
her opinion of this strange man had changed from crazy to
credible.
It took Jocelyn a while to get into the suit. With his guidance,
she carefully stepped into the pant legs, adjusting to the
snug fit of the attached foot covers, which were reinforced
with sturdy soles. One by one, she slipped her arms into the
sleeves, her fingers finding their place inside the fitted gloves.
He showed her how to pull the suit over her back and
shoulders, securing it in place. Then, with precise movements,
he demonstrated how to fasten the two halves together—from
the waist up and vertically along her front, sealing it all the
way to her neck.
She marveled at the impeccable fit. The suit molded to her
body like a second skin, surprisingly comfortable despite its
structured design. The inner lining was soft, velvety against
her skin, while the outer surface was rough, textured like fine
sandpaper with thousands of tiny grooves.
The man stepped closer, gathering her hair so it was
evenly distributed over her head and along her neck. Then,
with practiced motion, he pulled the head cover into place,
enclosing her face entirely.
Jocelyn braced herself, expecting discomfort, but to her
surprise, her vision remained clear, her breathing unimpeded.
The suit felt strange—alien—but somehow she sensed it
was meant for her.
“I’m happy the suit fits you like I thought it would. Is it
comfortable enough?”
“Yes, very comfortable.”
“Can you show me what you want to take with you?
Remember, it will be a while before you can return—please
hurry.”
Jocelyn quickly selected a sizable part of her wardrobe
and placed the items on the bed, together with the books and
papers from the desk.
“That won’t fit into my backpack. I’ll have to return to
pick that up later.”
“I’ve hidden some documents beneath the blankets that I
also need.”
In saying that, she reached under the blankets and
retrieved three sheets of paper and also placed them on the
bed.
“Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“Cool, now wait a moment while I activate our suits.”
Jocelyn watched as he slung the backpack over his shoulder,
then retrieved two small, cell phone-like devices from his
pocket. With a quick flick of his fingers, he pressed a button
on each.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he reached for
her hand.
And then—he vanished.
One moment, he was standing before her. The next, there
was only empty space where he’d been.
“Be calm, Jocelyn, and forgive me for calling you by your
name. I know you don’t want me to. Please bear with me while
we do this.”
“But where are you? I can’t see you, but you’re here because
I can feel your hand in mine.”
“We’ve both become invisible. You can’t see me, and I
can’t see you. No one can see us. Hold on to my hand as we
leave, okay?”
Jocelyn’s mind reeled with confusion, but she held on to
his hand tightly, the only tangible proof he was still there.
At the door, she felt a subtle pressure on her hand—he had
stopped. She assumed he was listening for any movement on
the other side. Moments later, the door opened, and she followed
him into the hall, moving cautiously in the darkness.
He closed the door.
They crossed the corridor in silence, descending the
Grand Staircase with measured steps. When they reached
the entrance to the Blue Room, he gently tightened his grip,
signaling her to stop. She obeyed, straining her ears for any
approaching footsteps.
After a pause, he led her forward again. They slipped
through the room, stopping once more at the door on the far
side.
Again, they listened.
The weight of the moment pressed down on her. Every
nerve in her body was on edge.
“Be as quiet as you can and when I open the door, hold
your breath until we’re on the lawn,” he whispered.
He eased the door to the portico open, careful not to make
a sound. Outside, the two agents remained engaged in quiet
conversation, their gazes fixed on the south lawn. Neither
noticed as the door behind them silently closed again.
Jocelyn followed the invisible stranger down the portico
steps.
A dog barked sharply in the distance.
Her heart pounded, but before the animal could pinpoint
them, she felt herself being guided swiftly up a ramp.
The moment she stepped inside, the ramp retracted and the
entrance closed.
A soft blue light flickered on.
Still holding his hand, Jocelyn gasped as the man materialized
before her. His form took shape in an instant, solid and
real once more.
He gently pressed her into a seat, securing her with a
complex safety harness that locked into place with smooth,
mechanical precision. She stared at him, searching his face for
answers, but said nothing.
Without a word, he climbed into the seat in front of her
and gripped a joystick.
Jocelyn’s breath caught as she felt the craft lift off—
straight into the air.
Then, it hovered. She turned her head, realizing that part
of the surrounding structure had been fitted with large, transparent
panels. The world unfolded beneath her.
The White House. The illuminated grounds. The dark
expanse of the city stretching beyond.
She was airborne.
And she had no idea where she was going.
He swiveled his seat around to look at her. “Where do you
want me to take you, now you’re free?”
“Who are you?” she asked in return, her voice tinged with
admiration.
“Why ask me that now, when a little while ago you considered
me nothing more than crazy and weren’t at all interested
in who I am or in having a conversation with me?” he
said. “My name is Sam. Now, tell me, where do you want me
to take you?”
“I have an apartment in Bethesda. That’s where I’d like
to go, but the Secret Service will want to search it as soon as
they’ve discovered I’ve escaped.”
“Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend I can take you to?”
“Neither. Being the daughter of a man running for president
of the United States and then being the president’s
daughter hasn’t helped me make friends.”
“Okay. You need to be off the grid for a while. I’ll take you
to a safe house where you can’t be found. Do you have things
in your apartment that you want to take with you to where
we’re going?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be a few hours before the Secret Service discovers
you’re missing. While you’re at your apartment, I’ll return
to the White House to pick up everything you’ve put on the
bed.”
Jocelyn recited her address, and Sam tapped a pen-like
device against the map displayed on the screen in front of
him. The aircraft adjusted course, swiftly yet smoothly.
Minutes later, they touched down beside her apartment
building. The rain had stopped, but the streets were still slick,
reflecting the dim glow of streetlights.
Hand in hand, they moved toward the entrance, invisible
once more. Jocelyn quickly entered the access code on the
keypad, and the door clicked open. They stepped inside and
rode the elevator to the third floor in silence.
At her apartment door, she retrieved a key from beneath
the large doormat. After unlocking the door, she slid it back
into its hiding place.
Sam watched, easily deducing that it was a spare—likely
there for the times she forgot her regular key.
Inside, he scanned the spacious, well-furnished apartment,
checking each room with methodical precision. Satisfied that
they were alone, he deactivated the invisibility function of
their suits.
In an instant, they became visible again.
Jocelyn turned to him, her expression unreadable.
She was home.
But something told her this was just the beginning.
“Please keep your suit on, Jocelyn. We might need to
become invisible again. But you can lift the head cover from
your head for now, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, again wondering at her docility after
wanting to get as far away from him as possible not so long
ago.
***
Sam returned to the White House and again landed on the
south lawn, now carrying a suitcase with the same invisibility
property as his suit and his backpack. He gained entrance
as he had before. On entering the Lincoln Bedroom, he placed
the suitcase on the bed and filled it with the items Jocelyn had
selected to take with her.
Finally, he looked around for anything else she might
need. To his surprise, he found her diary on her nightstand. He
leafed through it and found notes on what had happened the
previous day, which she had obviously written before going
to sleep. He also put that in the suitcase. Not finding anything
else of importance, he closed the suitcase and left the room.
Sam’s walk to the south lawn was uneventful when he discovered
the two agents on the portico had left. He was back
at Jocelyn’s apartment building within thirty minutes. He left
the backpack and the suitcase in the aircraft. He went inside,
entering the code she used to open the door to the building,
and walked up the stairs to her apartment. He knocked on her
door and decloaked when she opened it.
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, I’ve put everything I want to take into this suitcase.”
“I’ll carry it. You’ll know where I am by watching it. I’ll
hold it in my left hand. Please follow close behind. We’ll take
the stairs to avoid the security camera in the elevator recording
our ride to the first floor. Whoever decides to check
the video footage will see the suitcase and deduce how you
escaped. We want to keep them guessing about how you did
that.”
Jocelyn couldn’t fathom how anyone could connect their
escape from the White House to something as insignificant as
a suitcase in an elevator. The idea seemed absurd.
Before they left the apartment, Sam helped her pull on her
head cover, ensuring it was properly adjusted before activating
the invisibility function of their suits.
At 6:45 a.m., they stepped outside. A sliver of the sun had
crested the horizon, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets.
Once again he guided her up the ramp and secured her in
her seat with practiced efficiency. He then deactivated their
invisibility, removing their face covers.
Sam input their destination into the flight computer, then
leaned back, letting the aircraft handle the ascent and the
flight. As the world below shrank away, he swiveled his seat
to face her.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment.
She had applied subtle makeup—just enough to accentuate
her features. She was pretty. Most men would say beautiful, he
thought.
The sleek suit she wore fitted snugly, tracing the lines of
her figure. He forced himself to push the thought aside.
They weren’t exactly friends.
As the aircraft accelerated, the lights below smeared into a
soft, glowing haze. Jocelyn looked up—and met his gaze.
“How long have you been watching me like that?”
“Ever since we lifted off.”
“May I ask why?”
“I’m trying to figure you out, that’s all.”
“What’s there to figure out?”
“Well, for one thing, whether your dislike of me has
changed into appreciation, if not admiration.”
“You’re presumptuous, to say the least.”
“I would disagree.”
“Do you mind telling me why?”
“Because my experience with women of your age tells me
you now actually like me.”
“That’s more than presumptuous—that’s preposterous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a pity because I was about to say I like you and
respect you for what you’ve had to contend with.”
“Well, I don’t like you.”
“Are you sure? Your behavior says you do.”
“What behavior?”
“Allow me to explain. At first you didn’t want to talk to
me, but you’ve got to admit, we’ve had an excellent conversation
about your situation. Next, you refused to let me call you
by your name, but the last few times I called you Jocelyn, you
didn’t object. And when I explained what my intentions were,
you were moved by what I told you. You also came to trust
me, and you agreed to come with me when I asked you to, to
escape your prison. Finally, you allowed me to help you put on
the suit you’re wearing while you were naked. All that adds up
to you now liking me.”
Jocelyn bit her lip as the man sitting less than four feet
away finished his unnervingly accurate analysis of her behavior—
every reaction, every shift in her resolve since the moment
she had first laid eyes on him.
And he was right.
Somehow, he had dismantled her initial determination
to resist him, breaking it down piece by piece until all that
remained was an unsettling willingness to follow his lead.
But she wasn’t about to admit that.
No way.
“You’re wrong about your conclusion. I hate you for being
so damn smug about the situation, and after you’ve taken me
to where I’m safe, I never want to see you again—not ever!”
“That’s a pity because, as I said, I really like you, for reasons
that’d require more time to explain,” Sam said, smiling
at her. “Still, if you really don’t want to see me again—ever, as
you say—I’ll make sure you don’t.”
Jocelyn bit her lip again. She had overreacted. The truth
was, she wanted to hear him explain why he liked her. And
more than that—she wanted to see him again, even after he
had taken her to the safe house.
Now she wondered how she could take back what she had
said.
Before she could dwell on it further, the aircraft slowed,
shifting into a steady hover. Sam turned away from her, swiveling
his seat 180 degrees to focus on the landing.
Moments later, they touched down smoothly. Without
hesitation, he reached for the lever that operated the access
panel and opened it.
“Jocelyn, listen, while we were having this conversation
we were flying back into time as it were. It’s dark outside
because it’s only four in the morning here in California. I’ve
landed the plane on Santa Monica Beach because we shouldn’t
arrive at the safe house until after seven. It’s nice and warm
outside, so we could lie down on the sand and get some sleep
or go for a swim and continue our conversation. What do you
want to do?”
“But we can’t be in California. We’ve only been flying for
about fifteen minutes,” she replied.
“Well, we are. Take a look outside. The sky is clear, and you
can see the ocean glistening in the moonlight.”
Jocelyn shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.
You’re crazy, as I said before.”
Sam had now become exasperated by Jocelyn’s obstinacy
and her refusal to believe him.
“You bother me to no end, Jocelyn. It’s time I proved a
point.”
He stood up, released her from her seat belt, effortlessly
picked her up, and walked down the ramp with her in his
arms. The walk to the shoreline was more than a hundred
yards, and she struggled all the while to free herself.
When the water reached his waist, he stopped. “Look
around you, Jocelyn. This is the Pacific Ocean, and that’s the
Santa Monica Pier. Now, do you believe me?”
Jocelyn had stopped resisting him. She secretly liked what
he was doing, and she held on to his neck tightly.
“I’m sorry, Sam; you’re right.”
“That’s the first time you’ve said my name. But I’m not
going to let this opportunity pass without giving you a proper
dunking.”
He released her, and she plunged into the water—but her
grip on his neck was firm enough to pull him down with her.
They surfaced, face to face, water streaming down from their
hair and face. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Something shifted in Sam. The closeness, the weightlessness
of the water, the way her eyes locked onto his—it made
him want to kiss her.
Without thinking, he cupped her face, his fingers brushing
against her damp skin, and pressed his lips to hers. She tensed,
struggling against him at first. But then, something changed.
She stopped resisting.
And then—she kissed him back.
When Sam released her, neither of them spoke. The air
between them was thick with unspoken words, but neither
dared to break the silence. Instead, he reached for her hand,
his grip firm yet gentle.
She didn’t pull away.
Without a word, they walked together, back to where he
had landed the aircraft.
“I’m not sorry for kissing you, Jocelyn,” Sam said when
they reached the aircraft and he had let go of her hand. “By
kissing me back the way you did, you proved that you like
me.”
“You took advantage of me by kissing me to see if I’d
return your kiss, only to be able to say it proved that I like
you. You’re a terrible person. Never kiss me again!”
Jocelyn had already put several steps between them, the
distance between them increasing while she spoke. Sam didn’t
respond right away. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step
toward her.
Then another. Closing the space between them, one step
at a time.
“What are you doing?” Jocelyn asked him as she took
another step backward.
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
“No, you’re not.”
When Sam reached her, she instinctively raised her arms
to push him away—but he caught her wrists and gently guided
them around his waist.
Then, cupping her face once more, he kissed her.
This time, there was no hesitation. No resistance.
Jocelyn melted into him, returning his kiss with the same
intensity, the same urgency.
Their breaths mingled, their bodies pressed close, neither
willing to pull away—until air became a necessity.
Finally, they broke apart, breathless, eyes locked, the
moment between them charged with something undeniable.
Sam was the first to regain a measure of composure. “So
can we be friends now?”
Jocelyn blushed. “Okay, Sam.”
“Shall we now try to catch up on some sleep?”
“Yes. I’m exhausted. I’ve been sleeping badly the last few
weeks, and the stress of the last few hours hasn’t helped.”
Sam retrieved four blankets and two of his sweaters from
the aircraft. Back on the beach, he spread two blankets on the
sand, then folded the sweaters into makeshift pillows.
With a quiet pat on one of the blankets, he gestured for
Jocelyn to lie down. She hesitated only a moment before settling
onto the soft fabric.
Sam lay down beside her, pulling the remaining blankets
over them both. As she turned on to her side to face him, he
wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close.
She closed her eyes, her senses acutely aware of everything—
the rhythmic splash of waves, the warmth of the
blanket, and the faint scent of Sam lingering in the sweater
beneath her cheek.
The suit she wore felt surprisingly comfortable, but more
than that, she realized something unexpected.
She was happy.
A quiet, unfamiliar kind of happy.
Within minutes, she drifted into sleep.
***
Jocelyn woke to the gentle warmth of the morning sun.
She stirred, stretching slightly before noticing Sam was no
longer beside her. A flicker of anxiety passed through her as
she propped herself up on an elbow, scanning the beach.
Then she saw him.
About thirty yards away, speaking into his cell phone. His
gaze found hers, and he lifted a hand—either in greeting or
simply to acknowledge she was awake.
She exhaled in relief and waved back before settling onto
her blanket once more, staring up at the sky.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was warm, the breeze
soft, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed
herself to simply relax.
But a few minutes later, a presence stirred the air around
her. Jocelyn opened her eyes just in time to see Sam leaning
over her.
He kissed her.
Without hesitation, she reached for him, drawing him
closer, returning his kiss without a second thought.
“I don’t know what’s happening between us, Jocelyn, but
whatever it is, I like it.”
“I do too.”
“I was going to take you to the safe house I mentioned
earlier, but I’ve decided to take you to my house instead. You’ll
be totally safe there. I live with my parents in Los Angeles. I
talked to them on the phone just now. Both of them are home
because it’s Saturday. They agreed you could come home with
me, provided we keep the exact location of where we live a
secret from you. You’ll understand the reason when we get
there. Are you comfortable with that?”
“Sure. Is the secrecy necessary because of who you are and
your ability to make things invisible?”
“Yes, but let’s talk about that some other time, okay?”
Sam shook the sand from the blankets and his sweaters
and returned them to the aircraft. Once inside, he helped her
with her seat belt. He looked at her while he did. She smiled.
***
The flight to their destination took mere minutes. As Sam
hovered in the air before descending, Jocelyn could see a large
house set some distance from the road in a large garden below
her. They landed on what was once part of a tennis court. The
net had been removed, and the lines delineating the edges of
the court and the service boxes had faded. When they walked
down the ramp, a man with an assault rifle hanging from
his left shoulder, making it easy to grab with his right hand,
walked toward them.
“Hi, Keith,” Sam said, raising his right hand to offer him a
high five. “Who’s on watch at the front?”
“Hi, Junior. John is,” Keith replied as their hands clashed.
“Leona and Sam are on the deck.”
“This is Jocelyn. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
“Sure,” Keith said. “Hi, Jocelyn.”
Jocelyn returned the greeting, offering her hand for Keith
to shake.
They walked through an opening in a hedge, into the garden
and across the lawn to access the sun deck, which surrounded
a large rectangular swimming pool. A woman was
sitting on the deck drinking coffee, a newspaper folded on the
table in front of her. A man was swimming up and down the
pool in a front crawl, employing a steady rhythm.
“Hello, Mother,” Sam said as they walked to where the
woman was sitting. “This is Jocelyn.”
“Hello, ma’am.”
“Welcome, Jocelyn. Please call me Leona. My husband
wants to finish his laps before joining us. Can I offer you something
to eat and drink? I don’t suppose you’ve had breakfast
from what Junior told me on the phone this morning.”
“No, we haven’t. I’d love something to eat, and coffee,
please.”
Leona stood up, and when Sam nodded to indicate that he
too would like breakfast, she went inside to arrange breakfast
for both of them.
“Why did Keith, and now your mom, call you Junior when
your name is Sam?” Jocelyn asked him.
“Because my father’s name is Sam as well, and everyone
has called me Sam Junior, or just Junior, ever since I was a boy.
I really don’t mind, but I prefer you to call me Sam.”
When Leona returned, the man swimming laps in the pool
decided he was done. With a final stroke, he reached the shallow
end and pulled himself out of the water.
Dripping, he grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and
began walking toward Sam and Jocelyn.
The moment Jocelyn saw him, she gasped, her hands flying
to her mouth to stifle the words threatening to escape.
But she couldn’t hide the sheer joy in her eyes.
Without hesitation, she ran to him, throwing her arms
around him in a tight embrace.
“Hi, Jocelyn. I knew I’d see you again at some stage.”
“Hello, Sam. It’s good to see you. I’ve been thinking a lot
about you because I need to hear what you have to say about
the predicament I’m in.”
“I know all about that because I receive a steady stream of
information from people who now work for your father. I’ll
sit down with you and others this weekend to discuss the situation.
But first, let’s join Leona and Junior.”
When Jocelyn returned to where Junior was standing, she
shoved him away, using both hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me who your father is when you
invaded my bedroom? It would’ve made me trust you from
the very start. Instead, I had to fight to find the confidence
and trust to escape from the White House with you. It caused
me a lot of anxiety.”
Jocelyn’s accusation didn’t surprise Junior, and he had
prepared his answer to her complaint well before she confronted
him.
“I knew you were going to be cross with me when you
found out who my father is, and I apologize for taking the
long road to winning your trust and securing your friendship.
But I feel our friendship is stronger for it. I doubted my
resolve not to tell you who my father is just a little when you
told me you wished you could meet him again—to tell him of
what you’d found out because he would know what to do—
but I decided against telling you. I wanted to break down the
walls you’d built up around yourself.”
“I also want to apologize for Junior’s behavior, Jocelyn,”
Leona said. “He means well, but he often chooses the hard
road to achieve something. We’ve talked to him about that
several times, but to no avail.”
To apologize for not telling Jocelyn who his father was,
Sam Jr. put an arm around her waist and kissed her on the
cheek. Jocelyn smiled at him, which made Leona and Sam
Senior share a look of understanding.
Adrienne, the domestic help, brought Jocelyn and Junior
breakfast, which she set out on the table. They thanked her
and wasted no time sitting down to eat and enjoy the coffee.
When they finished, Leona took Jocelyn inside to show her
the guest room, while Junior walked to the aircraft to retrieve
her baggage.
“It’s not exactly the Lincoln Bedroom, Jocelyn, but the
friendliness of the people here will make up for any comfort
your room might lack,” Sam Jr. said as he placed her baggage
on the bed.
“Go away, Junior. Jocelyn will want to take off the suit you
had her put on.”
“It’s actually very comfortable to wear,” Jocelyn explained
to Leona after Junior left. “I’ll change into something else
after I’ve taken a shower.”
“When you finish unpacking and changing, you’ll find us
on the deck.”