In His Good Hands

by Shanae Johnson

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your next state senator, Ginger Dumasse."

  The crowd's applause thundered in Chase's ears. He ignored it in favor of the sweetness on his lips. The voters gathered in the union hall whooped and hollered for Ginger. They could yell, shout, and clap for her to come on stage all they wanted. Backstage, Chase had her in his arms and was not letting her go any time soon.

  His palm cradled the nape of Ginger's neck. He used his thumb to tilt her chin up for better access to her perfect lips. He tried to only sip, to pace himself.

  That plan failed. Chase took healthy gulps of her. He couldn't get enough. He knew he’d never be able to get enough of the spicy-sweet taste of this woman.

  "I know she's back there," said Carla from the stage. There was a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “Maybe a bit more applause will get her out here. Let's show Councilwoman Dumasse that we believe she will be our next senator. Put your hands together, people!”

  Chase latched his hands onto Ginger. He laced their fingers as he continued to take from her lips. But the louder applause got to Ginger. She squirmed in Chase's hold as duty called her.

  With great effort, Chase tore his lips from hers. His mouth obeyed, but his hands refused to cooperate. One by one, he peeled his fingers off her. But as his pinky left her, he dipped down for another kiss.

  "You two, get a room," Carla hissed from the curtain separating the stage from the back of the platform.

  Chase finally let Ginger go. He did it with a cheeky grin that said he would do it again if he got a chance. Ginger showed no remorse either.

  "Or,” Carla grinned, her gaze going shrewd, “he could put a ring on it. Everyone loves an engagement."

  "We're not getting married," said Ginger. "We've only just started dating."

  She said the words adamantly, even crossing her arms over her chest. Something about the phrase didn’t sit well with Chase. The statement simply didn’t sound true.

  Ginger looked up at him. There was a hint of doubt in her clear blue eyes. “We are dating, aren’t we?"

  In response, Chase leaned down and stole one more kiss. "Dinner tonight?"

  She nodded. The doubt was gone from her gaze, replaced with a dreamy look.

  "Come on.” Carla yanked her away. "You've got a job to do."

  Ginger went with her campaign manager, but grudgingly. Her gaze was still on Chase. "Wait for me?”

  Chase couldn't form words. Well, he could. He just wasn't ready for her to hear them. Or perhaps he wasn't ready to admit them to himself.

  At that moment, Chase knew he'd wait forever for this woman. He realized he had been waiting a lifetime for her. He knew for certain that he would spend a lifetime with her.

  He didn’t say any of that. He simply nodded at her. Her smile broke open his heart.

  Chase was so totally marrying Ginger Dumasse.

  Most of her speech brushed over him. He leaned against the wall backstage and took her in. He took in her passion, her conviction, her drive.

  A few words of her platform penetrated his mind. His first instinct was to argue with her health care plan. To rebut her proposal on tax reform. To reject her course of action on interstate trade deals. In the end, he realized the strategies didn’t matter. What did was that she wanted the best for the people of this state, and she was prepared to work hard to make their lives better.

  Wow, he was completely head over heels for that woman.

  Ten minutes after her speech was over, hands were shaken, and pictures taken, she was back in his arms where she belonged. They had pulled up outside her campaign headquarters. The sun lit her face. A small smile played at her lips. Chase could’ve stared at her all day.

  "You did really well back there," he said.

  She preened at his compliment, snuggling into his hold as she leaned into him from the passenger seat. “They believed me."

  "Because you told the truth. You're a novelty; a politician that speaks truth to power."

  She turned her head into his chest, so he couldn’t see her features, but he felt her mouth spread into a grin. “I just hope it's enough to win."

  "You're gonna win."

  "How do you know that?" She tilted her head back and gazed up at him.

  Chase ran his index finger down the side of her face. “Politics isn't about the issues. It's about the people. Even when you disagree with people, you've proven that you'll listen. That's really what they want; someone who listens to them.”

  "Are you speaking for yourself, Sergeant?"

  "I think I know the will of the people."

  Ginger tugged her lower lip in her mouth. Chase had to grit his teeth. If he started kissing her now, he wouldn't stop. They were parked on the street. Even now, someone might be snapping a picture for tomorrow’s headlines.

  "You should go to work before I'm charged with abducting a government employee,” he said. “That would not look good on my rap sheet."

  Ginger brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Thank you."

  "What for?"

  "For supporting me, even when you don't agree with me."

  "We have a lot more in common than we differ."

  "I'm coming to see that."

  Ginger smiled again. Something squeezed in Chase's chest, likely the very last objection to spending forever with this woman. She was going to be late for her next appointment. They both were. Chase threw caution to the wind and captured her lips.

  Just as he was about to deepen the kiss and make them both even more late, a knock sounded at the passenger side window.

  "You two should know you have an audience," said Carla.

  Chase looked over to see photographers snapping away. He shrugged and gave Ginger one more kiss before letting her get out of the car. They were together, and he wanted everyone to know it.

  He watched her walk up the steps, making sure she got inside the building before starting his engine. Though his engines were already raring to go. His head was clear, and his heart was full, and he could not remember how he’d gone from happily single to enthusiastically in a committed relationship in what? Two days? That had to be a Purple Heart Ranch record. He doubted anyone of the soldiers or wives had bet on those odds.

  Pulling into the recruitment center, Chase saw a luxury car parked out front. Standing at the front of the car was a large man smoking an expensive cigar. Ice cold washed over the warm feeling in his body. Chase knew the man.

  "Mr. Dumasse,” Chase said as he came out of the car.

  The man didn’t bother with a preamble. “We need to talk about you dating my daughter."

  He hadn’t expected this. From what he’d seen with Henry Dumasse’s treatment of his youngest daughter, Honey, and what Ginger had told him about her father, Chase doubted the man would care what his eldest daughter got up to.

  But it looked like he was wrong. Maybe Dumasse had a change of heart. Still, what was happening between Chase and Ginger was not the man’s business.

  “Ginger is a grown woman,” said Chase. “She can determine who she dates."

  "This has nothing to do with dating,” said Dumasse. “It's about the campaign, and what my endorsement will do for Ginger. That is if you play ball."

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Ginger, David Jacobs from Charbury Academy is calling, should I take a message?”

  "Yeah,” said Ginger automatically.

  She’d been operating on autopilot since Chase handed her out of his car. She’d never felt more alive than when she was in his arms, and he was holding her, kissing her. Agreeing with her that she would make an amazing leader because she listened.

  “You know what?” Ginger said as her assistant was nearly out of the door. “I should invite Mr. Jacobs to lunch.”

  Her assistant blinked. She gave her head a waggle, like a dog who was uncertain of its human’s command. “All right … I guess I’ll find time in your schedule?”

  “Yo
u do that,” said Ginger. “He and I should meet face to face and work our issues out."

  Ginger’s door was wide open. The campaign office was usually filled with chatter. People working the phones and talking to constituents to get votes. People typing away on keyboards, posting to social media. People chatting with each other, discussing the latest issue and how to solve the problems of the world.

  If it hadn't been for the abrupt and total silence, Ginger may not have ever noticed something was the matter.

  Phones dangled from earlobes like loosened earrings. Fingers were held suspended in the air over keyboards. Mouths gaped open, hanging mutely in mid-sentence. All gazes were wide as they focused on her.

  "What did I say?" Ginger asked no one in particular.

  Carla ushered her assistant out and came into the office. She closed the door and turned to face Ginger. "What has gotten into you, girl? Or rather, should I say who?"

  "Don't be crass, Carla.” Ginger rounded her desk and plopped into her seat. She didn’t face Carla. She swiveled her chair until it faced the window. The clouds were particularly fluffy today, with swirls and swoops like a pillow. She’d bet they’d be just as soft, like a lover’s kiss. “We’ve only just started dating."

  She was dating Chase. He'd said as much. What was she going to wear tonight for dinner? Maybe she should go and buy a new outfit? First, she needed to clean her apartment. It was a mess. Not that he’d be staying over or anything. They were only dating.

  "Gin, I'm happy that you finally have someone in your life because goodness knows, you needed a man."

  "Hey." Ginger swiveled back around to face her friend.

  “The soldier has my approval. But,” Carla held up a finger, “not if he's going to change everything you stand for."

  "He hasn't. He can’t. Chase isn't like that."

  "You just agreed to a sit down with the assistant principal of a private school who is diametrically opposed to your platform on public education.”

  "Because that's the adult thing to do. The two of us have an issue. We should sit down face to face and talk it out like mature, grown people."

  Carla reared back as if Ginger’s words were throwing daggers. “In what world would that work?"

  "In the real world,” Ginger insisted. “Not this hyper-polarized world we all are imagining is the real thing. Nothing is working with everyone in their own corners. We need to come to the middle and actually meet."

  "Huh." Carla pursed her lips. Then she took out her phone and began tapping away.

  "Who are you texting?" asked Ginger.

  "I'm not texting. I'm writing all that down. It's going to go great in your next speech."

  Ginger sighed, but then she rose and rounded the desk. She sat on the edge and hugged her friend.

  "Really?” asked Carla. “Is the soldier’s loving that good?"

  "Yeah,” Ginger grinned.

  Not that Chase had made any declarations of love to her. It was way too soon for that. Too soon for her to even feel anything close to love. Definitely too early to be planning the cut of her wedding dress, or where they might live, or what their children’s names would be.

  Just tell all that to her overactive heart. The thing pounded just at the mention of his name. Yes, she did have it bad …and it was so good.

  Chase had shown her another side of himself last night on the ranch. He’d shown his vulnerable side. It had been painful to watch him suffer, but that episode had broken down the remaining walls between them. It was clear he trusted her enough to let her hold him during his time of need.

  "I don't have to change who I am just because I'm with someone who is on a different side of an issue than me. I think just being with Chase has made me stronger. You know the saying; iron sharpens iron. Right?”

  "I have no idea,” said Carla. “I use a service to sharpen my kitchen knives. I have no idea how they do it."

  "Trust me, that's how they do it," said Ginger. "If all we ever do is try to get strong in a group of like-minded people, we won't get any stronger. It all would get dull soon.”

  "So, you're changing your platform?”

  "I'm not changing the platform.” Ginger took a deep breath as she realized the truth. “I’ve changed. I'm open to listening to others and making the platform stronger by running it up against ideas that aren't wholly mine. We’d leave a whole section of the community out if I got one-hundred percent of what I wanted. There’s enough room for some give. With the give as well as the take, everyone gets some of what they want. It'll make the platform stronger if more people are included."

  Carla took a deep breath herself. Ginger waited, her own breath baited. Luckily, her friend and campaign manager bit.

  "Okay,” said Carla. “I’m with you."

  Once again, the two friends hugged it out.

  “What’s going on up at that ranch?” said Carla. “Maybe I need to pay them a visit, get a soldier of my own.”

  Before Ginger could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Her assistant poked her head in.

  "Ginger, there's a Mr. Chase to see you."

  And there her heart went again. They hadn't been apart for ten minutes, and he was already coming back for more. But when her assistant moved aside, it was a gray-haired man that darkened the doorway. He had Chase's face but under a number of wrinkles. And the smile was wrong. It was predatory.

  "Ms. Dumasse, I'm Lloyd Chase. I believe you are acquainted with my son."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "It's simple, son," said Henry Dumasse, the man also known as the Sugar Daddy due to his family’s sugar plantation.

  Dumasse moved his large frame around Chase’s office, neither sitting or standing still. He sprinkled his presence all over the room, touching surfaces and glaring at the furniture. He was the sugary sprinkles on top of a healthy fruit salad, completely out of place.

  None of that chafed as much as the last word Dumasse had uttered. Chase did not like being called son. Not by this man. Not even by his own father. It had even rankled when drill sergeants had said the word.

  Chase never used it when he was doling out orders to his own soldiers. He gave them more respect than that. If you survived boot camp, you were a full-fledged man or woman. Not a child.

  "My daughter is not going to win this race,” said Dumasse.

  Chase grit his teeth. Wasn’t there a rule that parents had to support their kids? Not just financially but spiritually, socially, in their dreams. The other men in his squad had come from excellent homes where their parents cheered them on.

  But not Dylan Banks. Dylan’s parents, who were New York socialites, hadn’t spoken to him since he lost his leg in combat. Maybe it was rich people’s problems?

  “Norman Dean has too many endorsements for her to have any real impact,” her father was saying.

  Maybe that was it? Maybe money was the corrupting factor? Chase and Ginger came from wealth, but they were both good people. They’d also both walked away from that wealth and struck out on their own.

  “Meanwhile, my daughter has cornered the youth and mommy blogger vote.”

  It was a shame. Chase’s own parents hadn't believed in him. They hadn't been in support of the way he wanted to live his life in service to his country rather than to the family business. They couldn't see that service to his country was serving his family.

  “Dean is too well connected in this community,” Dumasse continued his disparaging tirade against his daughter’s chances at success in the race.

  Chase begged to differ with that last statement. He hadn't seen Norman Dean out in the community, other than his face on a glossy poster at a bus stop. Chase had seen pictures of Dean at fancy dinners in newspapers and in negative television ads.

  The man had never gotten his hands dirty in the trenches like Ginger. Dean hadn't visited the schools and seen the plight of teachers. He hadn't been on ranches and farms and seen the conditions of the laborers. He hadn't been to factories and seen the conditions
of those workers.

  But Ginger had. Not only that, but she had a plan to help each person in this community find their next level of success. True, Chase didn't believe in every one of those plans. But he'd stand behind her and hold her up while she tried to make her vision work. Because he believed in her.

  "She needs a high-level endorsement if she has any hope of beating him," said Dumasse.

  "Well, seeing as she already has her father’s endorsement, I'm not sure how much higher she could get."

  Chase was surprised he got the statement out with a straight face. He held his features still while he waited for Dumasse’s reaction. Ginger’s father glared at him.

  Chase glared right back. He had no idea what was about to come out of the man's mouth, but he knew he wouldn't like it. He also knew he wouldn't stand here and listen to much more of this vitriol about the woman he believed in, the woman who was the right choice to lead this community, the woman he loved.

  "My daughter and I have never seen eye to eye,” said Dumasse. “We are on the opposite sides of most issues. I have every reason to believe the two of you are opposites in most respects, as well."

  Again, Chase held his tongue still and kept his face blank. He would give nothing away to this man. But in the end, he had to know. “What do you want, Mr. Dumasse?”

  "Let me make myself plain, son. I'll support my daughter's candidacy if you broker a deal with your father.”

  Chase’s blank expression turned fierce. Was that what this was about? A business deal? Dumasse was going to sell his daughter out over money. Too bad he had the wrong Chase.

  “I have no say in my father’s business,” said Chase.

  "You're his son."

  "She's your daughter,” Chase countered. “See how that works."

  Dumasse took a deep inhale. He was clearly trying for patience. Chase bet the man wasn’t used to hearing the word no.

  “Your father has always thought he was too good to do business with me. Industry folk have always thought themselves too good to get their hands dirty with agriculture. But my money is just as old as his.”