White House Autumn by Ellen Emerson White

Their mother brought her hand over to his face, holding it there, and he burst into even harder tears.
    “I hate him,” he said, then ran out of the room.
    “Steven,” her mother tried to call after him, her voice sounding terrible.
    “I’ll take care of it,” Meg’s father said. He bent to kiss her cheek and whispered something, her mother nodding. Then, he straightened up and motioned towards the door. “Come on.”
    “Can I—” Meg swallowed. “I mean, just for a minute?”
    He looked at the doctors, then nodded. “Just for a minute.”
    When he and Neal were gone, she looked at her mother.
    “I, uh, I’m really sorry,” she said.
    Her mother nodded, and wrote, “I’m sorry for all of us.”
    “Do you hurt?” Meg asked. Which was a really stupid question.
    Her mother shook her head. “How are your brothers?” she wrote.
    “Okay,” Meg said. “Steven’s having a harder time.”
    Her mother nodded. “What about you?” she wrote.
    Meg started to say that she was fine, but instead, began crying. Her mother reached over for her hand, holding on with surprising strength. Meg gripped back, knowing that she had to be a little kidfor a few seconds, let someone else be the strong one. But, it didn’t seem right to be
taking
strength from someone she should be giving it to, so she let go, getting herself under control with a deep, shaky breath.
    “Meg,” her mother said hoarsely. “It’s okay to—”
    “Madam President.” One of the doctors indicated his throat.
    Her mother looked annoyed, but pulled over her legal pad, turning to a fresh page. “Let yourself get upset,” she wrote. “Don’t try to hold it in.”
    “I’m fine,” Meg said.
    Her mother looked at her, and Meg felt even more power from the concentrated gaze that she had felt from her mother’s hand. She wouldn’t have looked away, but a nurse tapped her shoulder, gesturing towards the door.
    “I have to go,” Meg said. “I mean, they want me to.”
    Her mother nodded, most of the power fading from her eyes, something like vulnerability or loneliness replacing it.
    “I’ll be back as soon as they let me.” Meg bent down, not wanting the doctors and nurses to overhear her. “I really love you,” she whispered, kissed her mother’s cheek, and swiftly left the room. Remembering that she had been crying, she wiped away the last of the tears with her hand, and four agents accompanied her down to the waiting room where her father and brothers were, all three of them looking up when she came in, Steven’s face tear-stained.
    “Hi,” Meg said, and sat in an empty chair, very tired. She hadn’t gotten much sleep. Felix and Gary had helped her move a cot into Steven’s room and once she was settled, Steven had fallen asleep, and she was the one lying alone and afraid in the darkness. Even holding Vanessa hadn’t helped. It must have been almost dawn by the time she dropped off, because she remembered watching the sky change colors through his window.
    She leaned her head against the hard vinyl back of the chair, studying the ceiling. People in the room were talking, maybe even toher, but she concentrated on the ceiling, too tired to follow a conversation. The fluorescent lights hurt her eyes, so she closed them, not wanting to get an even worse headache than the one she already had. It was nice to rest for a minute. Just for a minute.
    A hand touched her shoulder and she opened her eyes, startled to see Josh sitting in the chair next to hers. She stared at him in confusion, not sure where they were, or why she had a blanket over her, with just the two of them in the room.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said. “You were having a bad dream.”
    She squinted at him, still not sure what was going on. “Josh?”
    “Hi,” he said, with such a nice smile that she decided that this
was
Josh, and she
was
awake. “Are you all right?”
    “Um—” Her face felt damp and she realized that she must have