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Sarabande Jane Harper RATING: R for language SYNOPSIS: The morning after the night before. Occurs several weeks after "Tentative Duet". ARCHIVE: Help yourself. HTML version available on request. DISCLAIMER: This world belongs to Aaron Sorkin; I am merely a textual poacher.
Pt. 2 Once back in her office, Sarah fixed herself a cup of chamomile tea, and opened her email. The newest one was from Leo; six words. 'I'm sorry. She'll get over it.' *Maybe,* Sarah thought, *and maybe not. Thank Heaven it's Friday.* And she typed http://www.sfgate.com into her browser and started reading the job ads. Late Sunday morning Sarah was reading the newspaper at her kitchen table when a knock came at her door. She looked through the peephole but could only see a yellow blur. Cautiously, she opened the door a crack, and an arm holding a bundle of yellow roses came through it. Behind them, Leo's voice asked, "Did I guess right?" Sarah took the flowers from him and opened the door the rest of the way. "Must have been a real stretch," she said, smiling, glancing at the quilted wall hanging over her sofa, a riot of yellow roses and daisies sprung from a blue basket. "Why aren't you taking my calls?" he asked, tossing his coat on a peg by the door. "I don't take _anybody's_ calls on Shabbat," she answered. "That was over at 5 yesterday evening." "Damn almanac," she muttered to the flowers as she put them on the table. "Hey," he continued, "I'm over here." He sat in one of the dining room chairs, level with her, eye to eye. "Am I in trouble already?" She hid her face behind her hands in chagrin, and shook her head. "No." He reached up and took both her hands in his, pulling them away from her face. "Mallory will get over this. She's just got her Irish up because we blew her denial away." "What about yours?" Sarah asked. "Mine was gone months ago," he answered. "I'm not goin' back." He leaned over and kissed her quickly, then stood up. "Now get your coat. We're going shopping." "Exqueeze me?" she responded. "You're taking me shopping?" "No, we're taking _me_ shopping. Furniture shopping." "Don't tell me you're finally gonna get out of that hotel," she said as she grabbed her jacket and scarf. "You bet your ass I am," he replied. "Left to myself, though, I'd make the new place about as attractive as a tomb. If I asked Abbey along, they'd have to empty out the store. So-" "Nice to know I'm second choice," Sarah grumbled, then winked at him. "After the First Lady of the United States! You could be in lots worse company." He held out his hand for her keys, locked the deadbolt behind them, and dropped them back in her outstretched palm. "Your car or mine?" "Mine has the handicap sticker," she reminded him. "Yeah, but I can't drive it." "Men!" She laughed. "Why do guys always feel like they have to drive?" "It's a guy thing, Sarah. Not that I know my ear from my elbow about cars, but it's a guy thing!" "Oh well. Learn to live with frustration." She popped the passenger door on her van and went around to the driver's side as he climbed in the opposite seat. "Let's go over to the new place first," Leo said as Sarah started the engine. "I want to make sure you're able to get around." As they turned the corner to his new home, he saw Mallory's car in the driveway. At the same time, she saw the van coming, and started to open her car door to get in. "Block her in," he told Sarah. *What, so she can run me over again?* Sarah thought, but said nothing as she slowed to a halt and shut off the engine. Leo flung his seatbelt off and leapt from the car toward his daughter. Sarah couldn't hear their words exactly but knew they were both shouting; she decided discretion was the better part of valor and stayed in the van until he turned and beckoned to her. Once the van door was closed again and the ramp had retracted, she could hear them both plainly. "Dammit to hell, Mallory, you don't have to love her, but Sarah's important to me so you're goddamn well gonna _respect_ her!" "Respect? That's a funny word coming from you, Dad! If you'd respected Mom the way you should have, you two would still be together!" Mallory got back into her Miata and rolled the window down. "I guess love is a word you're throwing around a lot these days, though. Does it mean anything to you anymore?" She fired up the little car, backed up onto the barren flower beds, drove across what once was a lawn and back onto the street. "I spoiled her," Leo said, rubbing his forehead. "She had everything she ever wanted, or I even thought she wanted-except me. Now I'm... what do they call it?... 'emotionally available'?" He let out a deep sigh. "Available all right, available to be kicked around. I might have deserved it ten years ago, or even six years ago-" "You said it yourself, she's got her Irish up. It'll pass." Sarah reached up and wiped the single tear from his cheek. "I've got a confession of my own, though, Leo." "Uh oh. What?" She grinned at him. "I'm a quarter Irish myself." He smiled back, and pulled out his house keys. "Wait here." Two or three minutes later, Sarah saw the garage door open. It was a huge garage - big for two cars, but not big enough for three - and in the back there was... a ramp! Sarah squealed with delight. "What... ? How... ?" "The previous owner was a little old lady from Philadelphia who only lived here on Sundays..." "Get serious!" "OK," he said, walking behind her to push her up the ramp and into the kitchen. "The previous owner had a teenager who broke his leg in four places and was in a wheelchair for six months. He thought that meant that Mom would start doing his laundry again; he was wrong." The house was huge compared to Sarah's apartment, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, separate dining room, walk-in closets, hardwood floors and a deck. "What, no hot tub?" she asked. "You Californians," Leo muttered, "and your hot tubs. Come to New England for awhile, you'll understand." "Yeah," she laughed, "I heard you folks define a hot tub as the Charles River after a thaw!" After the Grand Tour, he stood in the middle of the family room and opened his arms wide. "So, whaddya think?" Sarah thought hard for a bit. "I think you're not going to be here much, and that when you are, it's going to be a lot of house for you to knock around in all by yourself." "Well," he answered, shrugging, "I was thinking I'd get an apartment in the District so I could stay closer to work, and just use this place to get away." Sarah shook her head. "Will you be any happier in two houses than in one? And besides, when was the last time you were able to 'get away' to anywhere besides Camp David or the New Hampshire house for a working vacation?" "Now you sound like-" "-Jenny," Sarah finished. "No, Leo, there's a difference. I've never known you any other way. I know up front what your priorities are, so if they pinch, I've nobody to blame but myself." She looked at the bare rooms around her and added, "If this place will make you happy, then go for it. But don't do this because you think it's what you're _supposed_ to do." He turned and walked a few steps away from her to stare out the sliding glass doors leading out to the deck. After a little while, he turned back and returned to where she was sitting, and squatted down next to her chair. "Sarah, how the hell do you know me so well?" She reached out and stroked the side of his face. "We're a lot more alike than you think. There was a time when I would move every time I got a new job, so I could live close enough to work to come in quickly every time a patient went sour. I wanted so desperately to be needed, worked so hard at it, and convinced myself that everybody in the ICU would die unless I was personally available. Then this happened-" she said, waving a hand toward her chair, "and you know what? They survived." "Now I'm confused," he said. "First you said I'd never have time to come here, and when I did, I'd go nuts being alone in such a big place. I should get a smaller place closer to the White House. Now, you seem to be saying I should get _away_, because the world will go on spinning without me... which is it?" "I'm saying, do what makes _you_ happy. If it revs your engines to be close to the Oval Office, great! Get a little place in town, and have somewhere more comfortable than the office sofa to sleep when you need to be available. But eventually you'll have to turn over the reins to the next guy's Chief of Staff, and the world _will_ go on without Leo McGarry's personal attention. It will be nice then to have a place outside the District with a dog and a deck. You don't have to do both now, just because you think that's what people expect." "What did I ever do to deserve you, Sarah Cooper?" He reached out to put his arms around her, and hit his knee on one wheel of her chair. Reflexively, he pulled away and stood up. "Ow! How do you live with that thing?" "It's easy when you have no choice," she answered quietly. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing for me to say." "No, you're right, it is frustrating. But we'll figure it out somehow." She turned toward the kitchen and started in that direction. Once they were back in the van, Leo took out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Hi, Margaret, it's me. It's Sunday at about 1:30 in the afternoon. When you pick this message up tomorrow morning would you call the realtor and tell her I've changed my mind about the Alexandria property? Get the keys from me and have them messengered back to her. Thanks." "Ouch," Sarah said as she put the van in gear. "That's gonna cost you a few bucks." "I've got a few walnuts laid aside for the winter, I'll be OK." As they bounced down the Beltway, they sat in silence for a few minutes. "What's next?" She asked with a grin. "Oh, didn't I tell you? We're having dinner in the Residence tonight. it's Zoey's birthday." "Damn. What time is it?" Leo looked at his watch. "Three-thirty. Don't you wear a watch?" "I have a pocket-watch in my briefcase, but of course it's not here - and the van clock hasn't worked since God was a little girl. I'm not usually time-bound on weekends." She glanced over to see him shaking his head. "When was the last time you spent a day without one?" He thought for a long time. "Near as I can remember, basic training. That would have been, let's see, 1968..." "You're kidding, right?" "Nope." "What time are we supposed to be at the Residence?" "Seven-thirty. It's come-as-you-are." "Thank God for small favors. Listen, I still have a little work to do on Zoey's birthday present, so I need to go home. Is that OK?" "Sure. I've got some briefing memos in my car I can read while you do whatever." Sarah pulled into her apartment garage. Leo retrieved his briefcase from the car and they went back upstairs; ten minutes later he was on the sofa engrossed in a two-inch-thick stack of verbosity. Another ten, and she was putting the finishing touches on a quilt with a paisley frog in the middle. Around the border were appliqué letters: Before You Find Your Handsome Prince, You Have to Kiss a Lot of Toads. As she put in the final stitches, Sarah felt hands on her shoulders, and looked around to see Leo behind her, grinning. "She'll love it." "I know. It's so... college-dorm-room." She turned off the sewing machine and packed it carefully away. "I had no idea you could do that kind of thing." "There are lots and lots of things you don't know about me. I made both the quilts on the bed, and I make a lot of my own clothes. It's relaxing. Want me to crochet you a sweater?" "Who would have thought, such an old fashioned girl!" "In some ways," she responded, smiling, as she folded Zoey's quilt carefully in tissue and put it in a box. Gently, Leo took the box from her and laid it on the sofa. "We've got some time before we have to go," he said, brushing Sarah's hair back off her neck, then bending to brush his lips against it. "Want to road-test that engine again?"
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