See disclaimers in part 1
****
White Noise 3/3
By Lacy
It takes me a half-hour of juggling to reschedule the Sheldon
appointment for Monday lunch. It's another fifteen minutes before I
can work up the nerve to call Dr. Wilborn's office.
"Dr. Wilborn's office, Terri speaking."
"Hi, Terri," I reply, using my best 'I work at the White House' voice.
"This is Donnatella Moss. I was hoping to set up an appointment to
meet with the doctor."
"Oh, Ms. Moss. Dr. Wilborn's been expecting to hear from you. She
asked that you be transferred directly to her when you called. Could
you hold please?"
"Sure." She's been expecting my call? I'm beginning to suspect that
she really is gifted. Although, I'm not sure how I feel about being
on her 'hot list'. How unstable am I, that I rate immediate transfer
privileges?
"Donna?" he voice interrupts my thoughts.
"Hi, Dr. Wilborn."
"It's Stella."
"Right, sorry. Stella."
"Is everything all right between you and Josh?"
"Yes, thank you. We talked things out like you suggested."
"Great," she replies. "And now the nightmares have begun?"
I'm stymied. Yes, I think that's the perfect word to describe what I
feel at this moment. There are others, of course. Dumbfounded,
staggered, flabbergasted, astounded. But I think 'stymied' has the
best ring to it.
"Have you been looking into your crystal ball again?" I ask when I
locate my voice. "Reading bones, perhaps?"
"Am I freaking you out?"
"A little bit."
"I'm sorry. Really, Donna, it's not ESP, it's science and experience.
You've had a lot on your mind lately and your brain simply
prioritized it all. Knock one problem down and the next one takes it
place."
"That's not very encouraging."
"It's not as bad as it sounds. Sometimes the next problem is 'what am
I going to wear to work today?"
"I miss those problems."
"There's a shock."
"Yeah."
"When did they start, Donna?"
"Night before last."
"Same dream?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you can pat yourself on the back for recognizing the need for
help before the problem escalated."
"Josh made me call."
"You can pat him on the back, then. How do Mondays sound to you?"
"Mondays?" She's as good at changing the subject as I am. She
probably has to be.
"Uh-huh," she responds, and I recognize the tone of someone flipping
through an appointment book as they talk. "Standing appointment. I
understand that you have a difficult schedule and an even more
difficult boss. I can take you in the evenings. How does six to
seven sound?"
"Uh," I articulately reply. "That would be fine, I guess."
"Do you think you'll be okay between now and then? We can set up an
emergency if you think you need it."
"No, I'll be fine. I'll see you next week," I tell her.
"See you then," she rings off.
I pencil the good doctor into my schedule for the next few weeks,
before remembering that Josh asked for something when I first arrived
back. For the life of me I can't remember what that was.
"Josh?"
"Yeah?"
"What was it you needed again?"
His eyes widen, and I know that he's surprised I'm asking. It's rare
for me to forget an assigned task, even if it was mentioned off-hand.
"DOT findings?" he prompts.
"Oh, right."
"Did you call?"
"I have an appointment on Monday evening. Oh, and Sheldon has been
rescheduled for Monday lunch."
"Okay."
"Josh?"
"What is it?"
After a second to consider, I step all the way into the office and
close the door behind me. Josh and I have had a lot of closed-door
conversations lately, and I'm well aware of how observant the other
West Wing employees are about such things.
"I'm going to start showing in a couple weeks," I say.
"Yeah."
"We should probably tell people before that happens."
"Yeah."
"We haven't even told my parents yet, or your mother. We should
probably tell them first, don't you think?"
"Yeah."
"And CJ will be pissed if we don't give her a heads up."
"Everybody's going to be pissed. Everybody, except Sam, that is."
"Why Sam?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why won't Sam be pissed?"
"Because he knows."
"Sam knows? Why does Sam know?"
"He was there," he tells me, as though that clears everything up.
"Where there?"
"In the hospital. He was there and I needed someone to tell."
"So you told Sam."
"Right."
"'Can't-Keep-a-Secret-to-Save-His-Life Sam'?"
"He can keep a secret," Josh defends his best friend. "If he
couldn't, he wouldn't be working here."
"You know that keeping secrets is not his strong suit."
"He's being very good. He's working very hard at it."
"Oh, well that's a relief."
"Was that sarcasm?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
"It'll be fine."
"Maybe I should go talk to him."
"I've already talked to him."
"Okay. But two heads are better than one."
"Donna, our secret is safe. Sam is bucking for godfather."
What the hell? "Sam wants to be the baby's godfather?"
"Yeah."
"And what did you say?" I ask between clenched teeth.
Josh looks into my blazing eyes and his forehead wrinkles up.
"I…uh…said I'd have to discuss it with you first?" he ventures.
"Good boy. I'm just going to…." Opening the door, I indicate with a
jerk of my thumb that I'm headed towards the Communications bullpen.
"Donna!"
"Just give me a few minutes."
I move so fast that I shock even myself, as I stride purposefully to
Sam's office. He's buried so deep in a thick law tome when I enter
that he doesn't even notice my presence.
"Hey, Sam," I greet.
"Donna, what's up?"
I close the door softly behind. His eyebrows go up. It's not often
that we need to talk behind close doors, but I certainly don't want
anyone overhearing what might pass between us. Sam whips his glasses
from his face and sets them on top of the book he's reading, as I pace
back and forth in front of his desk.
"Am I in trouble?" he asks.
"Anything's possible," I smile.
"Uh-oh. Why are you here?"
"I'm here about a little thing called damage control."
"Damage control?"
"Yes. Loose lips sink ships, Sam."
"Ah. Of course," he says, catching on.
"So…you know what I'm talking about?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea."
"Good. You're aware that the West Wing has an extremely prolific
rumor mill."
"I think I've had plenty of experience being grist for that rumor
mill. And as such, I'll go to great lengths to see that my friends,
and their personal lives, are kept out of it."
"So, we're safe?"
"Perfectly safe," he replies with a nod. "I am the Fort Knox of
secrets."
"Whatever, Sam."
"Need I remind you that you did not find out about the dress from me?"
"Yes, you were resolute. Impressively so."
"Thank you."
"I just want to be sure," I tell him.
"You can count on me, Donna."
His vow floods me relief. I don't know why, but I just needed to talk
to him about it myself. I needed for him to be aware of my feelings
on the issue. Standing her in front of my desk, I remember something
I'd forgotten in the craziness of the last month.
"You were in the hospital when the police came."
"Yes. Someone needed to protect your interests."
"Were you the one who convinced the police to keep my name out of it?"
"I was. But only until Proctor's trial date is set. Once his lawyer
gets the opportunity to depose you, I'm afraid it's going to be easy
pickings for the press."
God. Not once in the last four weeks did I think about having to
testify in a trial. Now, the thought of facing Leon Proctor in open
court sends chills up my spine. "When will that be?"
"The courts are backed up right now, Donna. It could be another two
or three weeks before a trial date is set. And that date could be
months away."
"You're keeping in touch with the detectives?"
"I am."
"Why? Did Josh ask you to do that?"
"No. I'm doing it because you're my friends." Sam stands from his
chair and slides his hands into his pockets. "I'm doing it because
you've had a tough year and I want as little of this to touch you as
possible. I don't want you to have to worry about anything, Donna.
You just concentrate on yourself for now, okay?"
"Okay," I whisper. Twisting the knob as I open the door, I turn back
to him. "In case I forgot to tell you when I was in the hospital --
thanks, Sam. For everything - for being there."
"It was my pleasure," he smiles.
I'm not sure about Sam being my child's godfather. I mean, I think we
all know that he's not the most responsible guy on the Wing. Sleeping
with a prostitute? I could go on and on, but what would be the point?
I had every intention of going in there and telling him myself, but
Sam being Sam, looked up at me with those big puppy dog eyes and I
just couldn't break his heart.
Plus, he was at the hospital and since then, he's been handling the
police like a pro. So much so, that I haven't heard a thing from them
since they showed up that last time in the hospital.
"Donna!" The mellifluous tones of Josh's voice waft out of his office
as I pass by.
"What is it, Josh?"
"DOT!"
Damn! I forgot all about it again. "Sorry. Calling them now."
Josh sends me home after six. He's very conscious of my time these
days. Besides, I've recently begun to suspect that the only reason he
used to keep me late was because it cut into my social life. Now that
he no longer worries that I'm going out with a string of men who
aren't him, it's easier for Josh to let me go at the end of the day.
He still reminds me to go straight home and to lock the door when I
get there.
I'm starving when I get home, and since most of my cuisine for the day
has consisted of very little except crackers, I make dinner for
myself. After I eat, I decide that hot bubble bath in my Roman oval
tub would not go amiss.
It's been a long day, and there's been a fair share of tension, most
of which stemmed from worrying about my first obstetrician's
appointment. I lug some candles down from the bedroom fireplace
mantle and carry them into the bathroom. A tub the size of this one
fills up slowly, so I take the opportunity to undress and slide on my
green satin robe as I wait.
I light the candles with a long match from the fireplace and dim the
lights. When the bubbly bath is ready, I untie my robe and step into
the tub, careful not to slip. The heat of the water, and my body
adjusting to it, leaches away the day's tension, and my muscles become
fluid. My eyelids droop in the candlelit semi-darkness of the bath
chamber.
But still my mind runs apace. Dr. Burgess's handfuls of advice this
afternoon are swarming around in my brain. I find myself looking
forward to my meeting with Dr. Wilborn. Stella had said that nobody
could ever really be ready for a baby, the best they could be is
prepared.
I'm going to have to get prepared. It shouldn't be a problem. I
mean, I can organize Josh's life and keep him on schedule and what
else is he but a big baby? I'll start tomorrow. I'll make lists --
and a few rules couldn't hurt either. Sam said that Proctor's trial
date probably wouldn't be set for a few weeks. There's no way I can
get out of testifying. Not that I would if I could - it just scares
me.
"Do I have to lecture you about the dangers of falling asleep in the
tub?" Josh's voice breaks through noise in my head. I didn't hear
him come in.
"I'm not that sleepy," I tell him. "My brain is running on turbo --
too much to think about. Want to help me shut it off?" I ask, with
what I hope is a wicked leer.
"Whatever can I do to shut off your brain?" he asks, as though he
doesn't know the answer.
"Well, for starters, you can take your clothes off and get in here
with me."
"I usually get dinner first. You make me feel delightfully cheap."
"Take your clothes off, Joshua."
"You just love ordering me around at home, don't you?" He tugs his
tie loose and discards it on the floor. The rest of his clothes
follow at a leisurely frustrating pace. His shoes and socks, shirt
and undershirt, pants and boxers - until, at last, he's ready to join
me.
I slide forward in the tub, drawing my knees up to chest, so that he
can step in behind me. After he settles in I'm able to lie back
against his chest, his arms wrapping around me.
"Water too cold?" I ask.
"Just right," he sighs and kisses me on the temple. The water sloshes
around us both, as the bubbles slowly dissipate.
"Did you get caught up with Sam on 683?"
"Yeah. We're covered." He picks up a bath sponge from the lip of the
tub and dips into the water. Sensually, lovingly, he massages the
line of my neck and shoulder with the sponge, the warm water easing
away even more tension.
"Mmmm. The latest numbers from Texas?"
"Kaiser called. Things are back under control."
"Good."
"Can we stop talking about work now?"
Then his hands set me on fire and in an instant work is the last thing
on my mind. My head no longer spins with plans or rules, or any of
the stuff that plagued me earlier. No doctors, and their unending but
useful advice. No Sam, with his puppy dog eyes and honorable
friendship. No imminent nightmares to destroy a peaceful night's
rest. I can stop running. I can shut out the white noise that's been
dogging me for two days and just...feel. There is nothing outside of
this room. There is nothing inside of my head.
There is Josh, and the things only he can do to me.
The End