Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir by Clint Hil (best novels for teenagers txt) 📕

local citizens had shown up to greet Mrs. Kennedy at the Shalimar Gardens when we arrived just before sundown. Covering more than forty acres, the exquisite seventeenth-century terraced gardens were built by Shah Jahan, the same Mughal ruler who had commissioned the Taj Mahal in Agra, India, and they were truly impressive. Marble pavilions stood like thrones amid manicured flower beds overflowing with countless varieties of trees, fruit-bearing plants, and seasonal flowers, all of which were watered by an ingenious canal system. It was truly an oasis on the outskirts of Lahore, with more than four hundred fountains, cascading water, and shallow pools mirroring the brilliant fuchsia, violet, and yellow flowering plants and well-tended lawns.

As the sun began to set, the trees lit up with thousands of twinkling lights, and the effect was magical. President Ayub Khan had walked with Mrs. Kennedy through the gardens and urged her to say something to the people who had come to see her. I was surprised when she obliged, and stepped up to a microphone that had been set up under one of the pavilions.

“I’m so happy to be here today,” she said. “All my life I dreamed of coming to the Shalimar Gardens. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have it happen, especially after yesterday’s thunderstorms. I thought fate would never get me here, but it is even lovelier than I’d dreamed. I only wish my husband could be with me and that we had something this romantic to show President Ayub when he came to our country.”

The press was furiously taking notes and frantically setting up cameras as this was the first public statement Mrs. Kennedy had made since beginning the trip eleven days earlier. She seemed to be very much at ease as she continued to speak to the appreciative crowd that had gathered in the gardens.

“I must say I’m profoundly impressed by the reverence which you in Pakistan have for your art and for your culture and for the use that you make of it now. My own countrymen too, have a pride in their tradition so I think that as I stand in these gardens, which were built long before my country was born, that’s one more thing that binds us together and which always will. We’ll always share an appreciation for the finer things. Thank you.”

Later, at the dinner reception, Mrs. Kennedy couldn’t stop talking about everything that had happened throughout the day, and how it would always remain in her memory.

“Today at the horse show, I was so impressed with the daring riding which took place—all the qualities I have always admired, so daring and brave.” She seemed to be somewhat melancholy, and added, “I bring a message of esteem and friendship from my husband, and I hope I will be forgiven if I say that he has those qualities, too. I am only sorry that he is not here in your country, where he would feel so much at home.”

I was so proud of her. I knew how much she hated being in the spotlight. She would have much preferred to attend the horse show and walk through the Shalimar Gardens as an ordinary tourist, but she accepted her role graciously, and the result was that she had created a respect for America that hadn’t existed before. In the eyes of the Pakistani people, Jacqueline Kennedy represented all Americans. And they loved us.

We were all exhausted by the time we got back to the governor’s residence. But Mrs. Kennedy had one last request of me.

“Oh, Mr. Hill, wasn’t today just wonderful?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kennedy, it certainly was special.”

Her eyes were weary, and her makeup had all but been worn off.

“May I ask you to do something?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Can you please clear the schedule for tomorrow morning? I just want a day to sleep a little bit late, and more than anything I want to ride Sardar just once before I have to leave him. It’s all I can think about.”

“No problem, Mrs. Kennedy. I’ll take care of it.”

She grabbed my hands and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill, I haven’t had a chance to tell you this, but I’m so very glad you’re now the Agent in Charge. You understand me.”

“I just want you to be happy, Mrs. Kennedy. Happy and safe.”

“Good night, Mr. Hill.”

“Good night, Mrs. Kennedy.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Mrs. Kennedy slept late, got dressed in her riding attire, and rode Sardar for the first time.

I had seen her ride many times, of course, on many different horses, but there was something special about the way she rode Sardar. It was truly like they had a unique connection. Sardar had captured her heart. They understood each other.

When she dismounted, she had a look of sheer joy on her face.

Rubbing his neck, she praised Sardar and kept telling him how wonderful he was.

Then she turned to me and said, “Mr. Hill, Sardar is mine, all mine. No one is going to be allowed to ride him except me.”

THE NEXT STOP was Rawalpindi, the temporary capital of Pakistan. The scene in Rawalpindi along the six-mile motorcade route from the airport was literally wall-to-wall people. The four hundred thousand residents of Rawalpindi apparently had all turned out to welcome this American guest of honor. There were bagpipe bands, marching bands with drums and trumpets, and it seemed like every person along the route was waving an American flag. At various points people held up signs that said, LONG LIVE MRS. KENNEDY.

The welcome was warm, friendly, and loud. Her only other activity for the day was a private dinner, a garden party, with President Ayub Khan celebrating Pakistan Day, similar to our Fourth of July.

The next morning, our gracious hosts—President Ayub Khan, his military aide who had been so helpful throughout the trip, and Ambassador McConaughy—accompanied us to the Rawalpindi airport as we departed for Peshawar.

I had come to really like the Pakistani president—he was gregarious, fun, and sincere. On the day of our