Chapter Thirty-one
Candy almost shit her camo pants. “Do you see this?” she whispered to Josh. “Oh, my freaking god. Josh, this is history at its best. It’s pre-1814.”
In the header next to the date was written “White Palace.” Candy handled the paper gently. “Ma’am, I mean, Monica, I think you might have the answer to my question.”
“What do you have?” she asked as she made her way toward them.
Candy pointed to the top of the page. “Does this refer to this building? Palace?”
The first lady’s brows drew down as she picked up the book the sheet sat on. After a few seconds of reading, she looked up at Josh and her. “Do you know what this is?” They shrugged and shook their heads. “Where did you find it?” Monica asked.
Candy gestured at the book in the lady’s grasp. “The edge was sticking out of that book, and I pulled it. Some crumbled when I opened it. Sorry.”
The president came up behind his wife. “What are looking at?” Candy observed how the man stood close his wife. She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Being in Josh’s arms was incredible. She could lean against him like Monica did her husband. She scooted over and back to get closer to him.
At the same second she leaned back, Monica fumbled with the old book she held. Josh reached around Candy to help stabilize the leather-bound relic, completely moving away from her target location. Her arms flailed in the air as her ass headed toward the dirt. She got her hands under her in time to stop her humiliating dirt dive.
Josh was with her in a second, helping her up. When on her feet, she slapped at his hands. “I’m fine. Don’t touch me,” she quietly ground through clenched teeth.
Her mate drew his brows in. “What?” he whispered.
“Nothing. I said I was fine. I tripped. That’s all.” Her mate glanced at the ground.
“On flat dirt?” he asked. She wanted to scream: Yes, on flat dirt, goddammit. But she remained calm as opposed to earlier where she would’ve gone off on his ass. She straightened and turned back to the presidential couple.
“If I’m right,” the first lady said breathless, “these are notes made by James Madison when he was president. He lists items he wanted in the Treaty of Ghent.”
The president leaned over his wife’s shoulder. “Are you serious? This is amazing.”
Candy knew Madison was known as the “Father of the Constitution” and the fourth president but wasn’t sure about anything else.
“Ma’am,” Josh started, “I didn’t pay much attention in American History class. What it the Treaty of Ghent?” Candy dropped her head into her hand. Don’t ask a teacher a question like that and expect a short answer. They knew too much to make it quick. As evidenced by the lecture they received.
Monica laughed, probably seeing their eyes glaze over. “No worries. The only reason I know this is my obsession with this house. When we started campaigning, I started researching. If I was moving in, I wanted to know everything I could about it. And the Treaty of Ghent marks the end of the American-British War of 1812.”
“How does that relate to the house?” Josh asked. Candy elbowed him in the stomach. “What? That’s a fair question,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “For someone who snoozed through school, maybe.”
“It’s okay, Candy. My husband did the same thing as a kid.”
“I beg your pardon. I paid attention and passed the tests,” Mr. President rumbled playfully.
“You squeaked by, dear, if I remember correctly,” the first lady said.
The president looked at Josh. “Word of advice, don’t marry someone you went to school with. You’ll never live down the stupid stuff you did as a teen.”
Josh looked down at her with sparkling eyes. Marriage? she thought. He didn’t want that right away, did he? When she mentioned getting married and kids earlier, she was joking. And kids—no way in hell. Ever. Womb closed for remodeling, eternally.
The first lady pushed on her husband’s arm. “I don’t bring up half the things you did in school. You should be glad.” She went up on her toes and pecked him on the lips. That, Candy could do. Josh was a lot taller, but on her tiptoes, she could reach his lips. PDA as obvious as that would have to wait. Besides, given how her moves were working on him, she’d probably end up kissing his armpit or some shit.
“Back to the question.” The first lady drew her attention. “I didn’t mention this, Candy, but in 1814 when the British set the house on fire, it completely destroyed everything inside except the painting of George Washington that Dolley Madison had cut from the frame and fled with. So this letter dated before that is a miracle.”
“And apparently that book,” Josh added. “What’s the title?”
Carefully, Monica let the book lower while holding the front cover level. She smiled and nodded. “Of course. It’s Dolley’s family bible. She wouldn’t leave without that. The president’s notes she must’ve grabbed on her way out or used them as a bookmark maybe.” The first lady carried the book and letter to a small side table, still talking about the find; the president followed.
“Cool,” Josh said. “History is so much better in person.”
Candy shook her head and rubbed her hand over her face.
“What?” he whispered in her ear. Should she explain to him that history means not being there in person? Nah. She’d let him be happy in his own little world where everyone knew him.
He kissed her on the head and took her hand. “Let’s see what the rest of this looks like before we drag those two farther in,” he said, motioning with his head to the president and first lady.
On the way, she noted a slightly worn path in the dirt. Not much, but they were not the only ones to have walked this. She wondered if this open space was meant for something secret. Not built out yet. Josh tapped her on the arm.
“Babe, shine your light on the ground in front of us,” he said. Kneeling, he examined faded small spots.
“What is it? I don’t see much there,” she said. He pinched the dirt between his finger and thumb and brought it to his nose.
“Blood.”