Divide and Conquer Read Online Free Page B

breathing heavily, a look of rage in his narrow blue eyes. His fists were white-knuckle tight at his sides.
    “Michael, are you all right?”
    He glared at her. She had never seen him look so angry and—disoriented was the word that came to mind. It frightened her deeply.
    “Michael, what is it?”
    He looked back at the mirror. His eyes softened and his hands relaxed. His breathing came more easily. Then he slowly lowered himself into a walnut side chair in front of the dressing table.
    “It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m fine.”
    “You don’t look fine,” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “A moment ago, you looked like you wanted to take a bite out of something,” Megan told him.
    He shook his head. “That was just leftover energy from my exercises,” he said.
    “Your exercises? I thought you were at a meeting before.”
    “I was just doing isometrics,” he told her. “Senator Samuels does them for ten minutes every morning and evening. He says they’re a great tension releaser when you can’t get to the gym.”
    Megan did not believe him. Her husband perspired easily when he exercised. His forehead and upper lip were dry. Something else was happening here. He had seemed increasingly distant the past few days, and it was starting to scare her.
    She stepped forward, coming to his side, and touched his face.
    “Something’s bothering you, hon,” she said. “Talk to me.”
    The president looked at her. “It’s nothing,” he said. “These past couple of days have been rough, that’s all.”
    “You mean the calls at night—”
    “That, plus everything else that’s going on,” the president said.
    “Is it worse than usual?”
    “In some ways,” he said.
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “Not right now,” he said, forcing a little smile. His deep voice had regained some of its vigor and confidence, and his eyes had a little sparkle now. The president took her hands in his and rose. He stood just over six-foot-four. He looked down at her. “You look beautiful.”
    “Thank you,” Megan said. “But you’ve still got me worried.”
    “Don’t be,” he said. He looked to his right. There was a shelf with a gold clock that had belonged to Thomas Jefferson. “It’s late,” the president said. “I’d better get ready.”
    “I’ll wait for you,” she told him. “And you’d better do something about your eyes.”
    “My eyes?” he said, glancing at the mirror. He’d gotten up even earlier than she had that morning, and his eyes were severely bloodshot. It was bad for an individual in a position of great responsibility to look weak or tired.
    “I didn’t sleep very well last night,” he said, touching and tugging on the skin around them. “A few eyedrops will take care of that.” The president turned back to his wife and kissed her gently on the forehead. “It’s all right, I promise,” he said, then smiled again and turned away.
    Megan watched as her husband walked slowly toward the bathroom and shut the door. She heard him turn on the shower. She listened. Michael usually hummed rock and roll oldies when he showered. Sometimes he even sang. Tonight he was silent.
    For the first time in a long time, Megan didn’t believe what her husband had told her. No politician was entirely truthful on the outside. Sometimes they had to say what voters and political rivals wanted to hear. But Michael was an honest man on the inside, at least with Megan. When she looked into his eyes, she knew whether or not he was hiding something. When he was, Megan could usually coax him into telling her about it.
    But not today, and that bothered her deeply. She was suddenly very scared for him.
    Slowly, Megan walked back toward her own dressing room. She pulled on her gloves and tried to concentrate on what she had to do for the next four hours. She had to be an outgoing hostess. She had to be gracious and complimentary to the delegates’ wives. At least she would be with people she didn’t