Chapter Eighteen
The morning guts me.
I feel helpless.
Utterly, completely.
Worse?
Unlike when Charles and Tory died,Iam the one restricted in how close I can appear to be to Kev.
When we arrive in Montana, Kev, Chris, Leo, and Elliot all act as pallbearers, along with Lauren’s cousins, to unload her coffin from Air Force One to transfer it to the awaiting hearse. Prophet’snormally calm and steady mask is shattered, the nation crying with him as tears roll non-stop down his cheeks as he helps carry her coffin.
Her parents are understandably distraught and inconsolable, and we all gave them space on the flight out, keeping the kids out of the suite as much as possible.
Kev rides in the limo with Lauren’s parents, and of course I have to let him. This is the trade-offwe make to lead such public lives, a lesson I’ve already learned the hard way.
A lesson I’d hoped never to experience again.
At the church it’s standing-room only for the funeral service, which makes Secret Service nervous as hell. We’ve had cameras put in, feeding to large screens in the social hall next door, as well as outside, to handle the overflow crowd.
Chris and I are paying for allof it.
Part of me wants to hope that people are here because of Lauren, but I suspect it’s more a case of this is a moment in history and they want to be a part ofthat.
Call me a cynic—well, I am.
For the funeral, Kevin and her parents sit at the graveside, while Chris, Elliot, Yasmine, the kids, and I have been put off to the end, separated from the crowd and protected by Secret Service andlocal sate and county law enforcement. There’s a direct line from where we stand to our limos, an emergency egress path that’s SOP no matter what the function.
Leo sits behind Kevin and rests a hand on his shoulder, doing for my Sir what I cannot in this moment. I’ve asked Leo to stay with Kevin, shadow him, take care of him and do whatever he can for him in this moment. They’re friends, so it’snot going to create an image crisis.
Unlike in Washington, this service is only for her family and friends, not for us, not for the nation. If I try to insert myself for Kev’s support, I will look like I’m trying to turn this into a campaign moment.
Once the service ends, the crowd begins to disperse. This makes Secret Service nervous because of traffic, but in this case I will not leave yet.I have Yasmine take the kids and head for the motorcade. But I don’t move. Not even when Chris subtly taps my shoulder where his arm is draped around me.
I can’t.
Eventually the only ones remaining at the graveside are Lauren’s parents, Kev, and Leo, who’s moved to the front row to sit next to Kev and keep an arm around him for comfort. Her parents say something to Kevin and he nods, closinghis eyes as his shoulders slump and his body is wracked by his sobs.
Leo rises, looks around, catches my eye, and walks over, where Chris and I lean in.
“They’ve asked him to come to the wake at their house and stay overnight. They told me I can come, too.” He drops his voice. “I think they think I’m his secret boyfriend. I guess Lauren hinted but never named him.”
That hits me like a gut-punch.“Oh.”
“It’s okay,” Chris says. “Please stay with him. We’ll ask Secret service to leave someone with you and transport you back to DC tomorrow on our personal tab.”
“Sure.”
“Thank you, Leo,” Chris says. “Ireallyappreciate this.”
“No problem, sir.”
Chris keeps his arm around me, the tips of his fingers just digging in to my shoulder, a silent warning not to follow Leo.
But Lauren’s parentsrise, her father noticing we’re still there. He walks over as Lauren’s mother stands there and stares at her daughter’s coffin.
His voice sounds haggard, hoarse. “Thank you, President Samuels, for bringing our baby home for us.”
