Irene Kennedy- THE ART OF HER LIFE

Chapter 3

Time made its way through February and everyone's life is already on track. Every day, Jack and Irene would wake up at 8 and Irene would spend her mornings reading some medical journals and evenings on painting or gardening.

In a tenderly February afternoon, Irene was writing swiftly on the stack of paper, occasionally giving punctuation to words and phrases, occasionally holding her head and ponder.

"Mrs. Kennedy?" even the timid voice seemed abrupt in the serene afternoon.

"Yes, Tiffany." her voice was cold, for that everyone did not dare to interrupt her thoughts.

"Mr. Kennedy would like to inform you that you two are going to Europe for a five days trip."

"Oh, when are we going?"

"You would have to talk to Mr. President. I'm sorry I don't know, Mrs. Kennedy. "

"I will do it. If he is ready, I would go talk to him."

"I'm sorry, he is in a meeting right now with the English ambassador. He just wanted you to have a preparation. He knows you have a tight schedule." Tiffany smiled gossip-apishly.

"What a fool Jack was, that's not how people do things these days." Irene stood up, and squeezed Tiffany's cheeks," what a fool you were, stop thinking about that."

"I am going out for a walk in the rose garden, Tiffany, you are free to call me if and when our president's free," paused," and do remember to tell me if he's stressed."

***

John and Irene Kennedy were seated quietly in the dark blue Lincoln Continental arriving at the Buckingham Palace.

"Irene,"

"Yes, sir."

"I know it is a waste of words to tell you how wonderful you are, isn't it?"

"Get to the point." Irene blushed, but she always held her golden temperament despite her husband's flirtations.

"Whelp, that was my point." he looked sincere enough.

Irene reached out for his tie and retied the tacky Four hands Tie into a Half Windsor one. It was neater and more considerate.

Through the process, Jack did not dare to move his sight of her, always reminded of how honored he is to have her.

"Mr. Kennedy, we are here," Fletcher said as the limousine approached the palace.

He held the door open while the two stepped out, Jack first, Irene followed.

Irene's actions were gentle and frugal. The pleated skirt with pink daffodils and scattered flowers dragged on the floor. Her body is covered with gold silk and thin green chiffon. Her temples are inclined and inlaid with pearls and jasper jade. The umber eyebrows are opened wide, her demeanor dyed with spring smoke, giving them a cloud-like aura. The shoulders are cut, the waist is smooth and the skin freshly bathed. She was arrogant but seductive.

It's snowing in February England. But it was light, not even a centimeter of frosting on the marble staircase.

Irene reached out a hand, just about her eye-level, and caught some tiny particles tingling down. She marveled at the vistas of vast land stretching beyond, flower bands filled with newly born buds, and the silver world under the azure sky.

But what she missed out, was the crystal snowflakes that fell leisurely on her flowing hair.

The world paused as she marveled at the world. Not only is she surveying them, but she also conveyed another beauty to them.

Cameras clicked as Irene scrutinized the surroundings.

She, Mrs. Kennedy would forever be idolized in that picture. That serene but innocent, dignified but tangible figure would forever be admired as the perfect representative of American woman.

Jack saw every bit of that. He once again showed the wide and pleasing smile as he reached out for her hand.

It just then did Irene noticed what a naive thing she did and looked into her husband's eyes.

But no blame nor criticism was to be found there, only love, pride and adoration.