Page 108 of Jackie

That old Guy Lombardo song.

—

She is walking next to him, her long legs keeping stride with his, and as they cross the lawn under that free November sky, an unfamiliar feeling sweeps through him, something sweet and brutal and sad. Not pleasure. He’d recognize that. This is different, clear and strange.

Happiness. Would that be the word? For this moment, this walk, this life, the echoing sound of his footsteps on the stone under the trees, the shade and the cool autumn air. John is singing some tuneless song he’s made up, and the four of them are just walking, listening for birds, or a pattern in the rustle of leaves, or silence, Caroline clutching his hand. He can feel the moist beating warmth of her palm pressed hard to his. His back hurts, his shoulder hurts, and none of that matters; the pain seems almost irrelevant against the looming depth of this new feeling, the ache that comes with this kind of happiness.

The spaniel bolts across the path, Clipper in pursuit, and the children run after the dogs, the breeze ransacking their hair, and it strikes him that life has never felt as close as this. She is telling him quietly that she’s going to peel off soon, walk down to the stables, and, if he doesn’t mind, she’d like to take a short ride. Sure, he says, and they keep walking. The light is sharp. Blades of liquid silver on the leaves.

…

Thursday, November 21.

On his desk, a stack of newspapers and an updated schedule for the next few days: ten hours on the ground, three major cities, five motorcades.

1:30 pm Arrive San Antonio

1:40 pm Motorcade through city

2:25pm Arrive Brooks AFB to dedicate Aero Space Medical Health Center

3:30pm Depart for Houston

4:15 pm Arrive Houston

5:00 pm Arrive Rice Hotel

8:20 pm Drop by reception of Latin American Citizens in hotel

8:35 pm Depart Hotel for Coliseum dinner

He skims halfway down the page to the second day, November 22.

11:35 am Arrive Dallas Love Field

2:35 pm Depart Love Field for Austin

I’m going to need an hour rest somewhere is what he’s thinking when Evelyn Lincoln appears in the doorway.

“Ambitious schedule, Mrs. Lincoln.”

“Time to go, Mr. President.”

—

He’s told Jackie to pack her hats. Unless there’s rain, the cars will be open.

“What about a bubbletop?” Pam Turnure had asked.

“Hats,” he repeated.

The conversation ended there.

—

Two days ago, before Salinger left for Japan, Jack said to him, almost in passing, “I wish I weren’t going to Texas.”

—

---