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Nate stood just to the side of the podium along with the rest of the senior staff. It was Thanksgiving Day and they were gathered in the Rose Garden for the traditional pardoning of the turkey. The lucky tom pecked and scratched casually at the well-manicured lawn, oblivious to his symbolic role.
The President was introduced and Jed Bartlett came striding down the steps with purpose. Nate clapped as expected, but as soon as the President began to speak, he became distracted.
Holidays were always like this. He’d known this when he’d been offered the job working at the White House. He knew it now. Nate had warned his family how things would be when he’d accepted the job. They were accepting and encouraging, even if they still wished he could take the time to be with them.
Nate had managed to call them this morning, getting to speak to his parents and his sisters. It had been wonderful and for several minutes, he’d been able to forget he was still in D.C., having to work.
As soon as he’d thought it was late enough in California, Nate had tried to call Brad. There had been no answer. A little later he’d tried Brad’s cell phone, only to have it go straight to voicemail. He’d tried once again just before coming out to the Rose Garden. There had still been no answer.
Not getting to speak with Brad, in addition to being so far from him, was probably what had Nate so melancholy.
He came back to the present when applause broke out, signaling the official pardoning of the turkey. Nate and the rest of the senior staff all turned to go back inside, and back to work.
Inside his office, Nate tried Brad’s cell one more time. Voicemail.
Next, he dialed Brad’s mom. This time he got the answering machine, to his surprise. He thought for sure they’d all be there, celebrating Thanksgiving like they did every year.
Nate waited for the beep, then spoke. “Mrs. Colbert, this is Nathaniel Fick. Happy Thanksgiving. I’ve been trying to reach Brad with no luck and I thought he’d be there. If you speak to him before I do, please ask him to call me. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your holiday.”
He closed his cell phone just as the secure landline on his desk rang.
“Come on, Nate. Food’s ready.”
Nate glanced up to see Margaret in the doorway of his office. It reminded him that they were having a Thanksgiving brunch brought in for staff since the business of running the country never seemed to let anyone have a day off.
“I have to take this, Margaret,” Nate said apologetically. “It’s the secure line.”
Margaret looked confused and ready to argue when Nate snatched up the handset and answered, “Nate Fick.”
He was still puzzled by Margaret’s reaction when the caller was announced as being from the Pakistani government. Nate didn’t have any more time to wonder about Margaret.
Forty-five minutes and one heated discussion later, Nate hung up the phone. He released a deep breath as he wondered when the Middle East was finally going to figure out that this administration understood the geography and politics of their region. They were no longer trying to apply Cold War policies to the modern world. That had been the other administration.
Nate looked at his cell phone and contemplated calling Brad again. It was probably no use. Brad had to know Nate had been trying to reach him and if he’d wanted to talk, he’d have called by now.
“Okay, let’s go,” said a sunny voice. “We’re waiting on you.”
Nate looked up to see Donna in his doorway. He suddenly remembered Margaret and the announcement about food.
“You shouldn’t wait for me,” Nate insisted.
“Of course we should,” Donna replied, gesturing for him to follow her. “State knows to handle any incoming …”
“Nate Fick,” he answered the ringing line that had interrupted Donna.
He watched her march down the hallway and wondered why it was so important for the most junior of the senior staff to be in the conference room for everyone to eat.
Thirty minutes later, Nate hung up with the government of India. He still didn’t know how they always seemed to know when he’d had a conversation with Pakistan, but Nate was assured that if he spoke with one, he’d speak with the other just minutes later.
His cell phone sat on his desk, the screen dark. There had been no missed calls while he’d been on the phone. There was no voicemail icon showing. Brad had not called. Nate wondered what he’d done wrong. The last time he’d spoken with Brad, things had seemed as great as they always did. There was just no getting around the fact that Brad had gone incommunicado on Thanksgiving Day. That had to be significant and Nate felt his gusts twist in sadness and regret.
“All right, Captain Fick,” Deborah Federer said as she stormed Nate’s office with intent. “State has instructions to field all of your calls unless it means the outbreak of a war. Let’s go eat.”
“I told Donna not to wait for me,” Nate insisted, barely grabbing his cell phone before he was dragged forcibly from his office. There was still a chance Brad would call. Wasn’t there? Nate hoped.
“Starting without you would defeat the purpose,” Deborah said ruefully.
When they reached the conference room, Nate could see through the windows that a table had been set up with catered food in familiar heating trays. Everyone was already assembled and waiting for him.
Deborah pushed the door open and Nate stepped inside.
“I see those vaunted skills of delegation the Marine Corps teaches are serving you well,” Toby Ziegler said from across the room.
Nate quirked a smile. “Point taken. But I said you could start without me.”
“Just like a good officer,” said a familiar, sardonic voice just behind and to Nate’s left. “Makes sure his people have what they need and always eats last.”
Nate spun on his heel and came face to face, sort of, with a smirking Brad. He knew he probably looked ridiculous with his mouth hanging open in surprise but he couldn’t overcome it. Brad was here. He hadn’t answered his cell phone and he hadn’t called Nate because he was here.
“Brad, I tried to call you,” he said, knowing it sounded lame but his brain seemed to have shut down.
“I know,” Brad replied, still smirking. “Everyone was so tired of my ring tone I had to shut my phone off.”
“You’ve been here the entire time?” Nate asked, knowing the answer already. He raked his eyes over Brad’s tall frame, taking in the tailored black trousers and dark blue button front shirt that accentuated his eyes.
“Surprise?” Brad joked.
“It’s good to see you,” Nate finally said, extending his hand, relief washing through him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Brad gripped his hand firmly and pulled Nate forward. Their hands stayed clasped between their bodies as they pounded each other on the back in the common alpha male hug. It lingered longer than it should have and Nate had to resist leaning into Brad more fully. It didn’t last long enough but he would make do.
The room was filled with feminine moans of disappointment. Nate pulled back abruptly from Brad.
“What did you expect?” Josh Lyman asked of Donna, Margaret and CJ. “Hearts, flowers and a soulful kiss?”
“Yes,” the three women said in unison, as if it was obvious.
“They’re Marines,” Josh gestured toward where Brad and Nate stood. “They probably say ‘I love you’ by punching each other.”
“Has anyone ever told you how romantic you are, Josh?” Donna asked sarcastically.
“No, actually,” Josh answered, falling into her trap.
“I can’t imagine why not,” Donna drawled.
“Can we eat now?” Sam Seaborn said, approaching the food-laden table. “The suspense of springing the surprise has me hungry.”
“Everybody dig in,” Margaret said. “We ordered a traditional turkey dinner since ham is …” She broke off with a gasp.
“Margaret?” Donna asked, concerned.
“Is turkey kosher?” Margaret stage whispered.
“Actually, Israel is the largest importer of fresh turkey from the United States,” Toby supplied.
Margaret placed a hand over her heart and sighed in relief. “Oh good. For a second I thought I’d ruined Thanksgiving for Sgt. Colbert.”
“Yeah, thanks for the concern there, Margaret,” Toby said as he stuffed a slice of turkey into his mouth.
“Oh,” Margaret said, realizing what she’d said. “But you work here. Sgt. Colbert is Nate’s guest.”
“He’s also six-foot-four, blond haired, blue eyed and a war hero,” Sam said to Toby. “You just write speeches for a living.”
They filled their plates and all took seats around the conference table. CJ managed to get the chair on Brad’s right, with Nate on his left. She talked in an animated fashion and laughed often. Brad listened to her graciously as he ate; occasionally brushing his hand along Nate’s leg or making sure their hands touched slightly where they rested on the table.
Nate was following an intense discussion between Sam and Toby when his attention was arrested by something Brad said.
“…Nate got me in trouble with my mother,” Brad said to CJ. “I should make him endure the Jewish guilt.”
“What did I do?” Nate asked, baffled.
Brad turned to Nate, eyebrow raised. “You left my mother a message on her machine?”
“I was looking for you and no one answered,” Nate explained.
“You called her Mrs. Colbert,” Brad chided. “Apparently it’s my fault for not making it clear to you that you’re family now. No need for such formality between family.”
“He calls your mother Mrs. Colbert?” Josh scoffed. At Brad’s affirmative, he continued. “He identified himself to her with his full name, doesn’t he?”
“He called himself Nathaniel,” Brad said, in a moment of perfect simpatico with Josh.
“Of course he did. I’m not surprised.” Josh turned to Sam and Toby, “Are you two surprised?”
At Sam and Toby’s negative responses, Nate spoke up. “All right, I apologize for being polite.”
“It’s okay, we know you can’t help being so serious and formal,” Brad said with a smile. “It’s the New Englander in you.”
“Careful when casting aspersions on those from the east coast,” came a strong voice from the doorway.
Everyone looked up to see the President and Mrs. Bartlett in the doorway of the conference room. The all stood up from their chairs and called respectful greetings and wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving.
“Please, everyone sit down,” President Bartlett gestured with both hands. “We didn’t come to interrupt your meal. We just wanted to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” echoed around the room in response.
“And to welcome Nate’s Marine for his visit,” Mrs. Bartlett added, with a nod toward Brad.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bartlett, Mr. President,” Brad acknowledged with a dip of his head.
“You knew?” Nate blurted out before he could stop himself.
“Of course we did,” Mrs. Bartlett replied. “Everyone knew but you. That’s what makes it a surprise.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate said, regaining his composure. “I’m thankful for the gesture.” Words couldn’t begin to express how happy he was to have Brad here.
“You two should stop by the residence before Sgt. Colbert leaves for the day,” President Bartlett interjected. “The whole family is here; it would be good for them to meet the two of you.”
Before Nate could answer, Brad was speaking. “Show the husbands and boyfriends what real men and true patriots look like?”
President Bartlett drew breath to answer, a mischievous glint in his eye. He was interrupted by the First Lady. “Jed,” she said warningly.
“Let’s just say it might do everyone some good to meet someone who has fought for their right to spout their uninformed opinions,” the President answered.
“Jed, that’s enough,” Mrs. Bartlett admonished. “Please just stop by before you leave.” She reiterated.
When the President and the First Lady were gone, everyone resumed eating conversation began to flow once again.
“Oh, you know what we’re forgetting?” Donna suddenly asked. “To tell what we’re thankful for.”
Moans of disagreement filled the room in reply.
“That is just so trite and cliché,” Josh said.
“I’m thankful Nate’s Marine could come and visit so we don’t have to watch him mope anymore,” Toby said pointedly.
“I wasn’t moping,” Nate said, defensively. “I don’t mope.”
Sounds of disagreement came from all around the table.
“Marines don’t mope, they brood,” Brad said from beside him.
“I wasn’t brooding, either,” Nate insisted, only to be met with silence. “All right, maybe I had a few brooding moments.”
Laughter filled the room at Nate’s words.
“So, what are you thankful for, Nate?” CJ asked, as if she already knew the answer.
Nate lifted his glass in salute. “I’m thankful for friends and family. I’m thankful for coworkers who care enough to plot behind my back. And, I’m thankful Sgt. Colbert found time to hop a plane and subject himself to the elitism of the east coast.”
“Here, here,” was heard around the room as everyone lifted their glasses in response.
Nate was warmed by Brad’s hand pressed to the back of his neck. “Happy Thanksgiving, Nate,” Brad said in a low voice.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Brad.”