Campaign Trail

by J. A. Armstrong

  Jameson took a seat at the kitchen table. Pearl’s words stung with the truth.

  “Jameson.” Pearl pulled out a chair and sat across from Jameson at the table. “I remember this cocky, witty, beautiful young woman sitting here at this table giving Candy hell.”

  Jameson smiled. “I still give her hell.”

  “I’m sure she’d agree. Things this last year have turned your world upside down more than you expected,” Pearl said. “It happens. You can’t lose yourself in loving them.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “I can’t answer that. You need to do something solely for you. Candy can say that she didn’t want to run this campaign; she did. She wants it, and she wants it as much for herself as she does any cause she cares about.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you should realize that you’re also allowed to have something meaningful in your life outside of this family.”

  “I…”

  “You know, Jameson tending a family isn’t just about being physically available. It’s about being able to be present even when you can’t be right with them.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No? Sure it does. What do you do when Jonah calls or Marianne for that matter?”

  “I don’t see what that…”

  “What about when Candy was in Washington most of the week? Do you think she’d say you weren’t there for her? Did you think she wasn’t holding up her part of your relationship?”

  “Of course not.”

  Pearl smiled.

  “Okay, I understand what you are saying. Pearl, there is Cooper to think about now, and the family has changed since Candace and I met. It’s…”

  “It’s bigger,” Pearl said. “Closer and probably a whole lot more complicated.” She laughed. “And, I hate to tell you, but it’s not going to get any easier as you go.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “I am. I’ll tell you a secret.”

  Jameson was genuinely curious.

  “It’s not easy for me to give you all your space. Surprised to hear that?” she asked. “It isn’t. I don’t enjoy watching people lash out at Candy or any of those kids. I worry about her. I worry about you.”

  “We worry about you too, you know?”

  “Well, I should hope so!”

  Jameson laughed.

  Pearl held up a finger. “I have something for you,” she said.

  Jameson watched as Pearl got up from her place at the table and walk out of the room. She chuckled. Pearl was in many ways the thread that held the family together. Pearl was Candace’s rock. She was the person everyone could count on for a healthy dose of the truth—straight, honest, but always with love. “What is she up to?” Jameson mused.

  “You know; I ask myself that same question about you almost daily,” Pearl replied as she walked back into the room. She handed Jameson a piece of folded paper.

  “What’s this?”

  Pearl shrugged. “Something I thought you might be interested in.”

  Jameson opened the paper and read the notes written on it. She looked up at Pearl.

  “Well?” Pearl said. “Seems there are some people besides Candy and this crazy crew that could use your help.”

  Jameson looked back at the paper. She’d seen a story in the paper about a house that had been devastated by fire in nearby Berne. It was a short piece. She sighed as she read the note Pearl had written. “Do you know these people?” Jameson asked.

  “No. I know Reverend Howe,” Pearl replied. “His name is there at the bottom. He’s been raising some money to help the family.”

  “Where are they staying?”

  “With family, although not all together. The father is with the oldest son in Maryland. The mother is staying with her sister in Cobleskill. She has the younger two with her.”

  “I’m not sure what I can do to help.”

  “Well, maybe you should talk that over with Reverend Howe.”

  Jameson looked up at Pearl.

  “He told me they have to tear the whole thing down,” she explained.

  “Insurance?”

  Pearl shook her head.

  Jameson sighed.

  “The Greers don’t have much money, Jameson. Reverend Howe told me Chris Greer was laid off from his construction job two years ago. Not a lot of building happening in this area. You know that.”

  Jameson shook her head. She did know. Development or lack thereof was a constant sore spot with Candace. There were parts of New York State that were falling into disrepair. The once thriving agricultural communities had been hit hard by industry and conglomerates. Albany had not been spared either. While parts of New York were thriving, there were pockets where whole communities struggled to get by. That reality drove Candace’s initiatives as governor. It was a reality that was mirrored across the country, and Jameson knew that was one of the reasons Candace had felt compelled to seek the presidency.

  “Do you know…”

  “What I know about the Greers and their situation is on that paper,” Pearl said.

  Jameson nodded.

  “What I suspect is that you might be able to help the good reverend piece together a solution.”

  “Pearl, I can design a house—no question. With some help, I can even build it, but I have no idea what they are looking for or what resources they have.”

  “You can do a lot more than design a house and build it.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “Jameson, you are one of the most gifted people I know when it comes to solving problems. It’s one of the reasons Candy loves you. She respects you. You know how to take the pieces of what looks too broken to fix and make it into something even better. Not many people can do that. And, I’m not just talking about that damn leaky roof in the barn.”

  Jameson smiled. “I think you give me too much credit.”

  “The hell I do,” Pearl put the thought to rest. “Most of this family thinks Candy is the glue that holds it together.”

  Jameson chuckled. “You’re the glue,” she said. “You hold Candace together.”

  “Mmm. Sometimes I still do,” Pearl admitted. “But I have taken a back seat to this snarky architect who wandered into my kitchen about five years ago.”

  Jameson shook her head. “You don’t take a backseat to anyone.”

  “Yes— I do, and that’s how it should be. It’s not the easiest role to play,” Pearl admitted. “You need to step away from it occasionally—get your mind into something else. Besides, if you don’t do something soon, I’m apt to find the yard’s been turned into a replica of London or something.”

  Jameson laughed. The day Pearl had seen the castle Jameson built she had rolled her eyes and asked Jameson whatever happened to letting kids play with boxes and blankets. “It’s not that big.”

  Pearl’s brow shot up. “It’s big enough. It’s up to you,” Pearl said. “I will tell you this; if Candy gets elected your life is going to be less your own than ever before. It won’t last forever, but you will need to find something to preserve your sanity—start now.” She offered Jameson a wink. “Now, I have to pick up Marianne and the kids from the pediatrician and take her to get her car.”

  “What’s wrong with her car?”

  Pearl shrugged. “Mice.”

  “Mice?”

  “Or squirrels. Can’t really say. Chewed through some wires. Had to have it towed this morning.”

  “Why didn’t she call?”

  Pearl laughed. “She did. She just didn’t call you. I’m down the street; remember?”

  Jameson sighed.

  Pearl shook her head. “Call Reverend Howe. That’s probably the closest I’ll ever get you to church. I’m not getting any younger,” she said. “I need to score some points.”

  Jameson laughed. She looked back at the paper. Call the reverend, huh? Maybe I will.

  ***

  “Slow down, Coop!”

  Cooper ran through the Ex
ecutive Mansion in search of Candace. “Mommy!”

  Candace came around the corner from the kitchen and laughed. “My goodness, what have you been up to?”

  “Momma and me went to the Rebrend’s house. He’s got a huuuge tire swing!”

  Candace looked over at Jameson curiously. “No trains?” she asked.

  “Long story,” Jameson said.

  “Did you eat dinner yet?” Candace wondered. Jameson shook her head.

  “I had cookies,” Cooper said excitedly.

  “I can’t believe it,” Candace teased him. “Does that mean that you don’t have any room for my lasagna?”

  Cooper’s smile widened further.

  Candace grinned. “Well, why don’t you go wash up. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”

  “’Kay!” Cooper barreled up the stairs.

  Candace chuckled.

  “You made lasagna?” Jameson asked. “I thought we’d find you tucked away in the office—well, that or asleep.”

  Candace sighed. “I closed the office door a little after noon.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “The things that matter are.”

  Jameson nodded. “The campaign matters, Candace.”

  “Not more than you and Cooper, it doesn’t.”

  “It matters to me and Cooper too.”

  “I know.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Jameson observed.

  “I told you; I closed the door on work hours ago. What I didn’t tell you is that I took a nap.”

  Jameson smiled. “What prompted that?”

  “I can’t control what anyone is going to do.”

  “No, but you can plan for it.”

  “Can I? Really?” Candace sighed. “I’ve been spinning, spinning in so many directions. I don’t know why. It’s not like me.”

  “I know why.”

  “You do?”

  Jameson nodded. “You want this.”

  Candace groaned.

  “Don’t apologize for that. You want to win this election.” Jameson looked up at the ceiling. “I want you to win this election.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is still only the beginning. I keep telling everyone to prepare for the long haul. I need to take my own advice.”

  “Just your own?”

  Candace laughed. “Okay, so maybe Pearl called.”

  Jameson leaned in and kissed Candace.

  “What was that for?”

  “Seems Pearl set us both straight today.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Do you remember that story a couple of weeks ago about the family in Berne whose house nearly burned to the ground?”

  Candace nodded. “Of course, I spoke to Mayor Laughlin that week. Awful. I know the community was trying to raise money to help them.”

  “They are.”

  Candace narrowed her gaze.

  “Insurance lapse,” Jameson explained.

  Candace’s eyes closed in defeat. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. The house is a total loss, Candace.”

  Candace opened her eyes and looked at Jameson.

  “I told you; it’s a long story. Probably an after-dinner story to explain it all. The short of it is that Pearl is friends with the pastor at the Congregational church there.”

  “Ah, that explains rebrend,” Candace mimicked Cooper’s pronunciation. “You went to see Gabe Howe.”

  Jameson nodded. “Yeah, and I think we might need a tire swing after that visit.”

  Candace rolled her eyes. Just what we need another way to support the emergency room.

  “Anyway, he filled me in on most of the details, took me out to the property.” Jameson shook her head. “It’s a mess.”

  “Why do I think you have an idea how to clean it up?”

  “I have a few.”

  Candace smiled. Of course, you do. “And?”

  “They need to raise a lot more money,” Jameson admitted.

  “How much more?” Candace asked.

  “A lot.”

  “A number might be helpful, Jameson.”

  Jameson sighed. “They’ve raised a little over twenty-thousand.”

  “And?”

  “Even if I can get contractors to donate their time, and materials donated—Candace, to rebuild that house the way it was would cost at least fifty-thousand.”

  “And?”

  “And, I can’t build it the way it was. It wasn’t safe. They’re lucky they all got out.”

  “Jameson,” Candace began cautiously. “What are you telling me?”

  “I want to help them out.”

  “By helping rebuild this house or by funding the project?”

  Jameson sighed.

  “Honey, you can’t fund every person who faces tragedy.”

  “I know.”

  Candace sighed knowingly. She wished that she could finance the recovery of every lost soul or struggling family. That would never be possible. “How much do you need to get it started?”

  “Candace, I’m not asking you…”

  “How much?”

  “Probably another fifty-thousand.”

  “Have they applied for any programs?” Candace asked.

  “A few. You know how long that takes.”

  Candace did know how slowly the wheels of assistance turned. They turned like the wheels of justice, in a painfully slow rotation. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to make an anonymous donation—not from you. I don’t want this to…”

  “Jameson, you’ve been extremely successful financially. You don’t need my permission.”

  “I would never make this kind of decision without you; elections or not.”

  “I know. Neither would I. Listen, there might be another option.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Do you remember Len Stacey?”

  “Senator Stacey?” Jameson asked.

  “Right.”

  “Lost me.”

  “When he retired, he set up a non-profit that helps families like the Greers.”

  “Yeah, but Senator Stacey is from New Hampshire.”

  “I know they have worked with families in Connecticut and in Maryland. Let me make a call.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Jameson, I wish I could make those calls for every family. I can’t.”

  “Candace, I…”

  “Let me call Len. This has obviously struck a chord with you.”

  “It has.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I wish I could do more. Reverend Howe said the lowest estimate they got was three-hundred-thousand. That’s worse than highway robbery, Candace.”

  Candace grinned. Ever the protector. “Sometimes, it’s not your wallet that makes the greatest impact.”

  “No, but you still need money to get things done.”

  “And, knowing what you can work with and where to find that money is the biggest battle. It’s just like politics.”

  Jameson laughed.

  “So, why don’t you figure out what you can work with, and I will work on what you need to finish.”

  “You have enough on your plate without…”

  Candace pressed two fingers to Jameson’s lips. “This is a partnership, Jameson. Maybe we both lost sight of that for a minute. It’s give and take and give some more. Lately, you’ve been doing most of the giving.”

  “Candace, you give to everyone until you…”

  “Until I’m so dry that I’m not giving enough to the one person I love the most,” Candace said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “But I do. Loving you is my anchor. Maybe you don’t realize that. I do need you by my side, but no more than you need me at yours. I told you when we set off on this road not to forget that you are the most important part of my life. You are.”

  “I know. You’re the most important person in mine.”


  Candace smiled. “So, maybe it’s time we took the time to remember that. I want you to be happy, Jameson. I don’t just mean with us or with this family. I want you to do the things that make me crazy.”

  “Oh, you mean like the climbing ladders and the…”

  Candace silenced Jameson with a kiss. “Let’s not get into the details.”

  Jameson sniggered.

  “I can’t promise I will always be able to step away like I did today.”

  “I know.”

  “But I promise that when I can, I will make a point to. You can’t wait around for those breaks in my schedule, honey. You need to do the things you love and trust that I will be waiting right here, just like I trust you to be there when I need you.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Now, what do you say to a glass of wine before Cooper comes back looking for dinner?”

  “I’d love to as long as mine can be beer.”

  “Negotiating already?” Candace teased.

  “No, I’ll save the negotiations for later.”

  Candace grinned. “I look forward to that presentation.”

  So, do I.

  Chapter Thirteen

  December

  “This is bullshit.” Jonah shook his head at the television.

  “Jonah,” Laura called for his attention.

  “They’re trying to call Mom a traitor.”

  “Jonah.”

  “What? Did you hear that?”

  “Yes, I heard it.”

  “How can you be so calm?”

  Laura took hold of Jonah’s hand. “Your mom will handle it.”

  “It’s bullshit. I’m tired of those assholes.”

  Laura’s eyes closed.

  “Shit,” Jonah groaned. Laura’s father was still leading the charge against Candace, at least, he was on the television screen. The latest was to demand an investigation into her knowledge of the embassy bombing in Russia after John Merrow’s assassination. “I know that this isn’t easy for you.”

  “It’s not that,” Laura said. “Your mom knows what she’s doing.”

  “Maybe she does. She looked so tired last time I saw her.”

  “She is tired,” Laura said. “She’s juggling an important job, a campaign and a family.”