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Once I’m up there, I won’t be the President anymore. I will be the President.
I won’t be Jack Hudson. I will be every version of Jack Hudson I’ve ever been.
I won’t be the man who let you down, or the man who feels torn between two women, two families, three children. I will be the man who has let you down, whose heart is in love with two women, who has three beloved children.
I won’t be someone who everyone watches and speculates about. I will be the person no one can watch anymore, but who everyone will speculate about endlessly.
I won’t be a man facing an uncontrollable disease that will take away everything he knows about himself. I will be the man facing the ultimate decision about what to do when it comes to an uncontrollable disease that will take away everything he knows about himself.
And I know what I will do. Nothing will matter but the horizon. I will fly into it, and I will not return.
I am saving all of us from pain and anguish of a different kind. I love you all terribly, completely, infinitely. I have been honored to be called to serve our country. I have been blessed to have met every single person I’ve met. This life was more than I could have ever dreamed, Ruby. I wish you nothing but happiness in every way: in whatever work you decide to do; in watching our girls continue to grow into wonderful women; in someday (hopefully) being a grandmother; in friendship, and finally, in love. Thank you for believing in me when no one else did. Thank you for being by my side through every damn thing. Thank you for our daughters. Thank you for being my wife. Thank you.
Fly high, Rubes—your future is yours, and your power is boundless.
Yours,
Jack
Ruby stops and looks up, tears streaming down her face. She takes off her reading glasses and sets them on the podium as she watches the faces of everyone in the crowd. Surely the news has knocked them all sideways, but even still, these are professionals and Ruby can feel the curiosity brewing.
Helen had been kind of enough to fly down again and sit with Ruby on her deck, going over every potential question that a journalist might ask:How did the President get diagnosed with a fatal disease and not a single other soul in his life knew about it for three months? How long had President Hudson been living this double life with a second family? Had you noticed any neurological changes—was he different? How in the world does a sitting President end up high over the Bay of Biscay in a single-engine plane, all alone? Where was the Secret Service? Do you wish he would have seen it through to the end? How does it feel finding out the truth more than a year after your husband’s death?
Ruby knows the questions are coming—from the people in this room and from the people of the world—but she’s not ready to answer them just yet. The reporters will be here for the rest of the weekend and she’ll encounter them all, granting some of them their requests for a one-on-one, if she feels up to it, but right now she feels like she’s gotten to the end of a long book and needs to stand up and stretch.
“Again, thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being here. As you may have logically guessed at this point, the auction for spots at this event has been to raise money for further research into Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, and I’m pleased to announce that, so far, we’ve raised three point five million dollars.” Ruby’s eyes scan the crowd, letting them know that she more than expects the various news organizations to up their donations to help fund research for a disease that would have ultimately taken the life of a sitting President if he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands. “There will be plenty of time for questions this weekend, and for you to drink your weight in grog.” She pauses here and listens to the appreciative laughter. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need just a moment to catch my breath. Thank you.”
The cameras keep recording under the hot studio lights, and the photographers start snapping their shutters like mad as Ruby steps out from behind the podium, making eye contact with her daughters and her mother. The three women stand and join her, walking straight through the shop as a unit and out onto Seadog Lane.
Ruby straightens her shoulders and holds her head high; the truth truly has set her free.
“Should we walk the beach, ladies?” she asks, taking her mother’s arm as her daughters clasp one another’s hands and walk behind them. The dark, stormy sky has morphed and given way to a fiery sunset over the water as Ruby guides them across the street and down to the sand.
“I raised one hell of a woman,” Patty Dallarosa says, holding onto Ruby’s arm tightly as they step onto the sand. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Ruby says softly, watching the pinks and yellows of the storm-bruised sky as it bleeds into the water. “I’ve had some great examples of womanhood. All three of you inspire me.”
They stop and naturally come to rest with their hips nearly touching as they stand in a straight line, watching the ocean. Each winds an arm around the waist of the woman next to her and they stand there like that, ignoring everything else in the world for a long moment as they turn into four silhouettes against the tropical evening sky.
