Angel in Disguise (19 page)

“Make sure you have some of the lobster salad,” her mother insisted. “That’s new this year. And I had the caterers make the hot fruit compote especially for you.”

Sunny was overwhelmed. Her mother had made an effort to please her. She didn’t especially care for hot fruit compote, but she spooned a little onto her plate along with some of the orange-glazed carrots, a few asparagus spears and one of the tiny French-fried potato baskets filled with baby peas.

“Tell your father to stop socializing long enough to eat,” her mother said, momentarily stopped by one of the caterers.

Sunny smiled. It felt good, being part of the family.

Thank You, Father, for all of this. You promised You’d never give me anything too hard to bear. You said that morning comes after night, and You’ve brought me this far. I have confidence that You’ll help me, no matter where the path leads.

It was a little tricky, carrying her plate, walking down uneven flagstone steps in her high-heeled pumps and looking across the crowd for her father. She had just spotted him when she lost her footing and lurched forward awkwardly.

“Careful.” A hand steadied her.

Bruce. She dropped her plate, and the sound of shattering china made everyone look.

Bruce took her in his arms as if he had the right. “Don’t worry about the plate, babe. We’ll get you another one.”

“Don’t touch me!” She pushed him away, breathing hard, embarrassed and angry. “And don’t call me babe.”

Her father stepped in, shielding them from curious eyes.

“What’s the problem?”

She wheeled on him. “Daddy, I asked you. I asked you twice if Bruce was going to be here. You knew I didn’t want him here.”

“He doesn’t have to be,” her father said calmly, soothingly.

“No, I don’t,” Bruce agreed almost frantically, “not if it’s going to upset you. In fact, I’m gone. See, I’m leaving.”

As good as his word, Bruce vanished into the thick landscape of trees and shrubbery.

“I’ve got to sit down,” she murmured, realizing her legs were very shaky.

Silently her father led her to a wrought-iron bench in the shelter of a tree where she used to play.

“I can’t do this, Daddy. I can’t go back to the way things were. I’m not that stupid anymore.”

“You’re getting yourself all upset for nothing. Bruce just wants to be friends.”

“What happened?” Her mother hurried toward them.

“Sunny’s had a little nervous spell. She just saw Bruce.”

“Bruce? Where is he?”

“He apologized when he saw she was upset and left.”

Her mother stared at her with contempt, her eyes so icy blue, Sunny felt the chill. Again, it was déjà vu. She was afraid because her mom was really mad. But she wasn’t a child anymore.

“He left? A guest of ours had to leave because our daughter couldn’t stand the sight of him?”

“Bruce isn’t a regular guest,” Sunny argued, fighting for equal ground. She would not let her mother beat her down.

“Doesn’t that church of yours teach you anything about forgiveness?” Disgust contorted her mother’s delicate features. “Why can’t you let bygones be bygones? It’s Easter, for goodness’ sake! Surely you could manage to be civil today.”

Guilt, layers of it, piled on Sunny’s head, and she felt ashamed. Bruce had done a terrible thing to her, betraying her on their wedding day. The way her parents had supported him, and not her, was also bad. But was she any better if she couldn’t lay her bitterness aside?

The Lord had His way of dealing with people. Bruce was God’s responsibility, not hers. God gave
people second chances, even more if they needed them. As His child, she should, too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her head bowed. “I can do better.”

“Sure you can, Sunshine.” Her father squeezed her arm.

“I’ll find Bruce and apologize.” In her prayers, she’d told the Lord she had forgiven Bruce. If she meant it, she ought to tell Bruce, as well. “I’ll never go back to him, Daddy, but I do want to love him in Jesus’ name.”

“Let’s not worry about Bruce,” her father said, patting her hand. “We’ll get some food, sit down, relax and enjoy the day.”

He led her back to the buffet, and her mother followed, greeting people along the way as affably as if nothing unpleasant had happened. Sunny hoped her apology had placated her mother, but it wasn’t likely. Her mother could hold a grievance forever.

The three of them sat down at one of the quartet tables, her father collapsing as if he were unusually tired.

“Try to eat something, Sam,” her mother said, looking at him anxiously, though she only picked at her own food. “Oh, it’s no use,” she said, putting her fork down. “I’m so upset, I can’t eat a bite.”

“Let it go, Eleanor,” her father said.

“I can’t! Alexandra, after all you’ve put us through, we came to you, prepared to do anything that we might be reunited as a family. But you! You have ruined our last—”

“Eleanor, that’s enough. I said, let it go,” her father rasped between clenched teeth.

“Not this time. There is no time! She’s got to grow up now and do the right thing. Oh, my head feels as if it will burst. Alexandra, pu-lease see that your father eats something.” Throwing down her napkin, she left the table.

Her father’s eyes followed her mother, and his sad expression broke Sunny’s heart.

“I’m so sorry I ruined our meal, Daddy.”

“It’s all right,” he said, patting her hand.

“I always upset Mother, but I want to please her.”

“You please her, Sunshine.”

She glanced at him sharply. For a man who could interpret the most subtle international nuance, that was blatant denial. But then, wasn’t that his motto? Deny a thing long enough, and people forgot what was real.

“Instead of dwelling on the bad things, remember the good, like how much I love you. Never forget that, Sunny.”

Her father never talked this way. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I wasn’t there for you much as you were growing up, though every politician sings that tune. But I believe in you, Sunshine, and I want the best for you. Always. Remember that.”

She nodded, stroking his hand, willing him to see the love in her eyes.

He looked across the lawn where her mother crouched beside a little boy who was showing her how many eggs he had collected in his basket. “I want you to promise that you’ll always be there for
your mother, Sunny. Someday she’s going to need you.”

It was a strange thing for him to ask, but easy to answer. “I’ll be there for her if she’ll let me, Daddy.”

“I know your relationship with her has been a bit difficult.”

More than a bit, she thought, wondering at her father’s introspective mood.

“But she does many admirable, wonderful things, Sunny.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t have made it in politics without her.”

She’d heard him say that many times.

“I didn’t come through for her, though.” He sighed deeply, regret dark in his eyes. “She’d have made a great First Lady.”

The White House had been her mother’s dream as long as Sunny could remember. It had been ages since they’d talked about it, but she remembered the year her father almost won the nomination. Losing it had been a terrible blow. Away from the hubbub, secreted in their room, not really aware she’d been there, too, her mother had sobbed. Her father watched, grim defeat on his face, grieving more for his wife’s loss than his own.

“Sunny, no matter what it seemed, my anger at you this past year hasn’t been personal. I wanted your mother to have what she’d always wanted, even if she had to live her dream vicariously through you and Bruce. When you threw it back in our faces…”

“But, Daddy, I couldn’t marry Bruce!”

“I know. You thought Bruce betrayed you, and you’re as stubborn as your dad. I told everyone, ‘Give the girl some time. She’ll come around.’ I still believe that, but, Sunshine, we’re running out of time.”

Her head spun. What was all this talk about running out of time? Would the pressure never end?

Leaning toward her, his gaze fiercely intense, he said, “If you love me…and I know you do…you’ve got to give Bruce another chance.”

“Oh, Daddy, there’s no—”

“Don’t say no,” he interrupted. “Give it some time.”

But she could tell him right now. There was no way.

Shrieks from the children drew their attention to the terrace. A man-size Easter bunny wearing a top hat and tails danced merrily across the lawn, playing with one child and then another, making his way to a purple throne. Her mother lined up the children to sit on the Easter bunny’s lap and have their pictures taken with him. As each child stepped down, a shapely young woman in bunny ears, leotard and tights presented the child with a basket of candy and toys.

One little girl seemed terrified of the bunny. Twice her daddy scooped her up and plunked her on the bunny’s lap, and twice the child bolted, screaming hysterically.

“C’mon, Sunshine,” her father said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s show that little tyke she has nothing to be afraid of.”

Still reeling from their emotional conversation,
Sunny trotted with her father to the purple throne, feeling more than a little foolish.

“Look, sugar,” he said to the child, “my little girl’s not afraid of the Easter bunny.”

Sunny did her best to play along, allowing him to guide her to the bunny’s lap. “Watch out, Easter Bunny,” she said. “I’m a little heavier than the other children.”

The silent bunny patted his lap and held out his arms, inviting her to have a seat. Gingerly she sat on his, or her, lap, trying to keep the bunny from bearing her full weight. But the bunny pulled her in snugly to his bunny body. He, and it had to be a he, was a very strong bunny, and affectionate, too. He laid his bunny head against her and let the audience know he liked his little girls on the mature side.

Knowing chuckles from the men in the audience made her grit her teeth. “Bunny,” she muttered, “cut it out. Right now!”

The bunny shook his head vigorously and hugged her with both arms, his paws locked under her chest in a rough caress.

“Stop it,” she whispered. “Don’t hold me like this.”

He answered with a tighter squeeze.

Not only was it the wrong answer, it hurt. “I’m not kidding,” she muttered, beginning to struggle. “Stop it.”

One paw shot up in the air.

That was better.

But, holding her just as securely with one arm, he used the free paw to pat her tummy!

“Ooooh,” murmured the children. Even they recognized a naughty bunny.

She shoved against his arms, determined to break loose, but the bunny was stronger. She looked to her father for help, but he had his head together with a couple of men, all of them laughing, enjoying the show.

“Let me go, Bunny!” she cried, pounding on his arms.

The crowd laughed harder.

“Alexandra!” her mother called.

Gratefully Sunny looked for her in the crowd. Her mother wouldn’t put up with this weirdo rabbit.

Spotting her mother, she felt such relief. For a second. Until she realized her mother’s frown had her name all over it, not the bunny’s.

“Your skirt!” her mother exclaimed in shocked disapproval.

The hem of her skirt rode high on her thighs, but what did her mother think she could do about it? She could use a little help.

The bunny raised one paw.

Oh, no. Not that again.

The children screamed, horror in their faces. She whipped her head around.

With his free paw, the Easter bunny had managed to remove his head. Without his head, he wasn’t the bunny anymore. Breaking character was bad for the children, but worse for her.

The man’s hair was disheveled and his face flushed, but the smile was as vote-worthy as ever. A camera flashed, catching her in the arms of Sir Skuzz, Congressman Daniels.

She could see the tabloid caption now: The Bunny And Sunny, Together Again.

“Let me go!” she demanded, stomping on his foot.

Pain registered up to Bruce’s eyeballs, and he lost his grip on his prey. Twisting free, Sunny landed an elbow into his bunny belly. The punch didn’t hurt, except for his pride.

What was she so mad about? She wasn’t the one sweating like a pig in this hotter-than-Hades costume.

“Wear the bunny suit,” her dad had said. “Sunny will love it.” Boy, was her dad wrong. That picture better be worth it.

“Hey, boys and girls!” she said in a loud teacher voice, taking charge in an astonishing way. “Look! We have an Easter Bunny Man! Everybody say, ‘Hi, Easter Bunny Man.”’

They did. With his bunny paws, he smoothed his wet, sweaty hair back, put a big smile on his face and answered, “Hi, kids!”

“Bunnies can’t talk,” complained one little smarty.

“That’s right,” Sunny agreed. “Easter Bunny, if you’re not going to wear your head, you’ve got to try harder to look like a bunny. Can you do that?”

Look like a rabbit? Not a chance. He looked at Sam, knowing he’d get him out of this silly scene.

“Do it,” the man mouthed.

Ridiculous. How low did a man have to stoop? It was a good thing he was an incredibly good sport.

Imagining the cartoon bunny, he raised his eyebrows high, opened his eyes real big and did that
repetitious, smacking thing with his upper teeth against his bottom lip. The kids laughed, approving his efforts, and he got into the role, wiggling his nose and making quick rabbity head movements.

The crowd seemed to love it, except for Eleanor Keegan. So what? The woman had no sense of humor.

“He’s a funny bunny, isn’t he, boys and girls?” Sunny said.

“Yeeesssss,” they all agreed.

“Poor Bunny looks so hot. I bet he could use a nice, cold drink.” Sunny took a glass of ice water from a table.

He was plenty thirsty, but it looked as if someone had already drunk from that glass.

“Uh-oh, boys and girls, Bunny can’t have this nice water. Do you know why?”

“It’s got somebody’s germs on it,” yelled a tyke.

“That’s right. But Bunny’s so hot,” Sunny crooned.

“Oooh.” The children sighed.

He’d never seen her like this before, so in control, so comfortable with a crowd.

“Bunny, would you like this water anyway?”