Ripple Effect

Chapter Six: ...the storm.

Stevie

2:54 PM

Stevie lugged the stack of files over to the cabinet in the corner of the office, dumped them on top, and eased open the drawer. The drawer grated as it slid along its railings, and then clunked to a stop with a reverberation that tingled through her fingertips. One by one, she lifted down the files, examined their labels, and returned them to what she hoped was the correct section. She fought back a sigh. And some of her friends still thought working at the White House was glamorous...

The rain pelted the windowpane next to her in a pattering thrum, and the chill seeped through the glass, stained the air and crawled over her skin. The hairs of her arms stood to attention. In the corridor outside, staffers bustled past in a flurry of suits and whispers, the clomp and clack of their shoes and heels half a beat too fast. Her own pulse jumped to keep up.

"Is there something going on that we don't know about?" Stevie asked, and when Adele looked up at her expectantly, she tilted her head towards the doorway, her eyes wide, just as three men in black suits marched by and headed towards the Oval Office.

Adele chuckled, and as she shook her head to herself, her gaze returned to the paperwork laid out on the desk in front of her. "Honey, there's always something going on that we don't know about. That's government."

Stevie nodded, but her gaze lingered on the hallway and the flutter of disquiet lingered in her veins. She picked up another file and slotted it into its place in the cabinet. What had Harrison said? Something about being raised in a house of secret and lies? As though being a CIA brat was reason enough to be hooked on heroin. Maybe people like them had it better than most; at least they knew that their parents were lying to them, keeping secrets for the good of the nation. Or maybe ignorance really was bliss.

Stevie fingered the edge of the file in her hand. She turned back to Adele. "But they would tell us if there was something big going on, right?"

Adele placed a metal ruler beneath the text and dragged a fluorescent pink highlighter over one of the sentences. "They tell us exactly what we need to know when we need to know it." She dropped the highlighter to the desk and arched her eyebrows at Stevie. "Stop worrying so much about what's going on out there and just you worry about what you're meant to be doing in here." She paused, her mouth open, and then she let out a sigh. "I took a pass at that binder you put together for Russell..." She tugged her lips to one side.

Stevie cringed. "That bad?"

"Not your best work." Adele snapped the file shut and rose up from her chair. She handed the file to Stevie. "There's a reason why Russell never hires interns. Don't let him regret taking you on."

"Got it."

Stevie returned the files to the cabinet, double-checking the labels as she went. At least she could get that right. She hoped.

When there were just two files remaining, Russell stormed through the doorway, his cell phone glued to one hand. He stared down at the screen and punched away at the keypad as he strode straight through into his office. A moment's lull passed, then—"Stevie. In here. Now."

Stevie dropped the file in her hand onto her desk and hurried after him. Beneath the heat of Adele's gaze, a blush crawled into her cheeks. Russell stood at the far side of the room, still texting. When he gestured towards the door, Stevie eased it shut and then crept towards his desk in hesitant half-steps. She clutched her hands in front of her and fought to still her fidgeting fingers; if she had still worn an engagement ring, she would have twisted it around and around and around.

"Look, if this is about the binder. I'm sor—"

Russell pointed to the armchair next to her. "Sit."

But she remained standing. "If you're going to fire me, please can you just do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. It's worse when you drag it out."

He stuffed his cell phone into his trouser pocket and looked up at her. "Your mother's in hospital."

She reeled. "Wh...what?"

"We just received word from her detail. Apparently she collapsed."

Stevie grasped hold of the armrest of the chair, and she sank down onto the cushion. "Oh, wow. Is she...uh...is she...?"

"Her condition's unknown." Russell grabbed a bottle of water from the mini refrigerator behind his desk and handed it to Stevie.

She took it from him and clutched it until her fingers slipped over the condensation and the plastic crackled. She met his eye with a wince. "And what...what does that mean exactly?"

"It means that we don't know what's wrong with her."

"But she's alive...right?"

Russell ran one hand over his head and then held the back of his neck. He shrugged, and his lips quirked in sync. "We don't know."

"Um...okay...wow."

"Things are going to get pretty busy around here and people are going to start talking, so I thought you should hear it from me first." His cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. He frowned down at the screen for a moment, and then let out a deep breath and looked up at her. "Look, I need to go sort out State. Are you going to be okay waiting here?"

"I...uh...I guess." She pushed herself to her feet as Russell strode towards the door, but her legs shook beneath her and she had to cling to the back of the chair for support. Her nails dug into the cerulean leather. "But, what...what should I do?"

"Secret Service agents are bringing your brother and sister in." Russell paused, one hand on the doorknob, and he turned back to face her. His gaze flitted up and down. His voice softened; it sounded like defeat. "You should be with them."

Then he raised his phone to his ear. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything." He hauled open the door—"Talk to me."—and he was gone.

The door swung shut with a clunk. Stevie half lowered herself, half collapsed back into the seat. A hush enveloped the room, broken only by the rain that hammered against the window panes and the tock...tock...tock... of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Once, when she was fourteen, back when they lived on the horse farm, there had been an almighty thunderstorm that had cut out all the power. She, Alison and Jason had huddled up with their parents on their bed, and surrounded by the blankets and pillows and each other's warmth, they had lain there and listened to the rain that pounded the roof above, whilst the only light came from the flashes of lightning through the curtains. Each rumble of thunder had stirred a kind of primal fear in the pit of Stevie's stomach, one that she was far too grown-up to admit to feeling. But without her having to say a word, her mother had reached across and stroked her hair, each stroke like the hands of a clock that counted down the seconds until the storm passed. At some point she must have fallen asleep, lulled by that touch, and when she awoke, the rain had stopped, the light on the landing glowed again and everything was so, so quiet. But rather than slipping free from her parents' bed and slinking back to her own room, she stayed, safe in the warmth of her mother's scent and arms.

The door sighed open behind her, and Adele's voice reached out to her across the room. "I heard what Russell said. I'm so sorry, honey."

Stevie stared down at the bottle of water clutched between her hands, whilst the rain hammered and the clock tocked and a bitter chill stole any last remnants of warmth from her skin. "Why couldn't he have just fired me instead?"