“I’m holding my own. There are a lot of secret rules to learn. And I’ve met some good people along the way.”
“That helps.”
“Of course, the nicest one - and don’t blush - is definitely you.”
Caroline, naturally, blushed on cue. “That’s not saying a whole lot. This town is full of assholes.”
Jack scowled at her. “Caroline, seriously. I know you delight in being self-deprecating but you really need to give yourself more credit sometimes. That is not what I meant at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m sure you must suspect that there are a great many people who both like and respect you around this place. Even those who may not be speaking to you right now.”
The Minority Leader. Who was still pissed about her vote for Speaker Allen. And not even bothering to hide it.
“Guess I shouldn’t have kept my promise to Bob, huh?”
“I’m glad you did. I bet Langlade respects you more for it, even if he’s angry with you. That bought you a lot of praise from newly elected Republicans.”
“And I’d been seeking their approval. Thank God.”
Jack laughed. “I’m reminding you not to forget that maybe there’s a reason you are one of the most well liked people on the Hill, and it’s not because there are a lot of jerks here, too.”
Caroline decided she’d had enough of this topic. Jack always seemed to bring their conversations back to her.
“Are you making any progress on the book I let you borrow?” she asked.
“The Shulamith Firestone one? The Dialectic of Sex? The one you foisted upon me?”
“Yes.”
“Who names their daughter Shulamith?”
Caroline decided to pull out some useless knowledge. “It’s the feminine form of the name Solomon. Her parents were Orthodox Jews.”
“I’m impressed. You’re like a jaunty Wikipedia page, except with far more obscure material.”
“Hush. Have you read any of it?”
She and Jack regularly engaged in some particularly intense discussions about feminist theory and political philosophy. Caroline had a range of books on both topics and took to forcing them on him whenever she had the chance.
“I’ve read some of it,” he said. “It’s hard to get through. Some of what she says is pretty off the wall.”
“I know. I don’t agree with hardly any of her theories.”
“You loaned me a book you don’t like?”
“I didn’t say I don’t like it, but I don’t necessarily agree with it. It challenges me and that’s why I flip through it every once in a while. I have a ton of books by Friedrich Nietzsche and I don’t agree with much of what he says at all.”
“You don’t strike me as much of a nihilist.”
She returned his smile. “I guess not. The Prince, The Leviathan, anything by Marx and Engels, and just about everything by Nietzsche…they all have their issues. That doesn’t mean they’re useless.”
“So if I loaned you The Fountainhead would you read it?”
“Hell no.”
“Atlas Shrugged?”
Caroline made a face. “No way.”
“I thought you had an open mind.”
“I hope I do, but objectivism breaks my heart. It’s so contrary to anything loosely related to a spiritual life or a higher sense of purpose. I was put on this earth to help others, not look out for myself.”
“That’s a somewhat simplified version of Rand’s theories but I’ll admit I have a hard time reading her works too. In fact, I can’t stand most of them.” Jack smiled again. “I wanted to see how you’d react if I suggested the two books that drive so much of the ultraconservative wing of the Republican Party.”
“I do like Anthem. Have you read it?”
“Indeed I have. I’m also a big fan of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I got into a lot of Catholic and Christian fiction authors when I was at Villanova. Philosophers too.”
“The Order of St. Augustine schooled you well, then,” she said.
“They sure did, on a great many subjects. As you know from my history, I’m a good Catholic boy through and through.”
Caroline sniggered and helped herself to more dip. “I bet your salad girls would have a different take on that statement.”
Jack looked a little uncomfortable after she said that, and she flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Jack. Your personal life is none of my business.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s not like I can make my past go away. It was a pretty easy way of attacking me during the campaign.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
He looked her in the eyes. “I wasn’t referring to what you said.”
“I know.”
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of. And I knew all my skeletons would come out once I ran for office. But what I didn’t count on was realizing that I actually regretted some of the decisions I’ve made. Maybe having other people scrutinize your behavior teaches you a little bit about whether or not it’s worthwhile.”
“Or it teaches you that it’s really none of their damn business.”
“That may be true as well. But it’s the way the game is played and we can’t do much about it, can we?”
“We can still try to hold ourselves above the fray. I hadn’t spent a single moment engaging in negative campaigning until last year. I deeply regret that misstep, too. I hated the way I felt and I don’t ever want to feel that way again. The game isn’t worth it for me.”
“I’d agree with you but my conscience isn’t as fully formed as yours,” Jack said. “I had no problem attacking my opponent and feeling clean as the driven snow the next day. Clearly the Jesuits do a better job of instilling an appropriate amount of humility in their students than the priests at Villanova.”
“Come on, Jack. Now you’re the one not giving yourself enough credit.”
Their sandwiches arrived and they chatted while they ate.
Caroline presented a somewhat disjointed diatribe on American hypocrisy regarding family values, parenthood, and public behavior. This was followed by a long-winded statement on feminism, non-revenue sports, and Title IX. She realized she’d been giving a monologue for a very long time without a response, and that Jack was focusing more on her words than on his food.
“You’ve got the best burger in Capitol Hill half eaten on your plate,” she said. “Did the Title IX thing bore you?”
“Not at all. I’d never thought about it that way before, having played a revenue sport myself in college.” Jack took a bite of his burger to mollify her. “And it’s the best burger according to this particular establishment,” he said. “Go down the street and see what they say about their food.”
“Why would they lie?” Caroline asked with mock bewilderment. “What would they have to gain?”
He took another bite. “You’re very easy to talk to. Sometimes I’d rather listen to what you have to say than eat another run of the mill burger.”
“I don’t think my philosophies on public policy are that engaging,” she said. “I assumed you’d stopped talking because you were falling asleep with your eyes open. My theories on the evils of the designated hitter are far more compelling than anything I have to say about the merits and hypocrisies of the feminist movement.”
Jack smiled. “You’re very genuine. I like that. It makes me quite comfortable with you. I’m sure that’s why other people respond to you the way they do. You really are nothing like I thought you would be. I might have made some assumptions about you during the last campaign that weren’t fair.”
“I think we’ve both made up for it now, don’t you agree?”
“Completely. Hey, how’d that slumber party go last week?”
“Having six ten and eleven year olds in your house on a Friday night is quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to a single parent. I’m pretty sure some of their behavior violated the Geneva Conventions. Never again.�
��
“Did Marguerite have fun?”
“She had the time of her life. She had a sugar hangover the next morning. I didn’t know such a thing existed. And I’ve eaten my fair share of sugar. She did mention on Sunday that she and Sophie want to have you back over for dinner more often. They think you cook better than I do.”
“Really? I thought my efforts were pretty lousy.”
“Better than mine. Their daddy was the cook in the family.”
Caroline felt less gloomy than she had anticipated, mentioning her husband in front of Jack. But he paused for a respectful moment anyway.
She cleared her throat. “Do you ever wish that you had kids?”
He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Sometimes. But I think that ship has sailed.”
“Anything is possible. You’re still pretty young.”
“I doubt it. I think I’m too selfish to be a good parent, anyway.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself.”
“You don’t think I’m selfish?”
“You’re not selfish around me.” Caroline grinned guilelessly. “You are paying for my lunch, after all.”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
“Nope. I don’t forget the important things, like free meals.”
“I think you’re doing quite an admirable job,” Jack said. “It’s clear that you’re devoted to your daughters, and they adore you. You’re a wonderful little family. I’m sorry you’re still having such a trying time.”
“It’s been better lately. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I’ve got another person in my life to help me laugh a little more.”
Jack feigned shock. “Surely you don’t mean me? Because I’ve noticed you mostly laugh at my expense.”
“That’s why I’m glad you’re around.” Caroline laughed. “Nicky used to say the same thing you just did.”
Jack looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour. The snow has stopped. Shall we make our way back to the salt mines?”
“Sure.”
* * * * *
After lunch they had his driver drop them off near the park in front of the Capitol. They took a short stroll to the reflecting pool even though Caroline was wearing stiletto heels, which were incredibly impractical in the snow. But the groundskeepers did a good job shoveling and the salt kept the sidewalks from turning into much more than wet pavement.
Caroline was captivated by the layer of white covering the grass, the benches, and the trees. It made everything pure and clean. She knew that it would soon turn gray and slushy but she didn’t care. There was no one else around, not even staffers or other members of Congress; most of them were quite happy to take the underground tunnels until spring reared its head.
She and Jack meandered along the reflecting pool and pretended to say deep, profound things to one another about how they had been inspired by the dirty water to commit themselves to a better life, before deciding to walk through the park back to their offices.
On a whim, Caroline grabbed a handful of snow off a park bench and made a tight snowball. Jack hadn’t noticed her stop, and he was more than a few feet ahead of her. She whizzed the snowball at him, hitting him square in the back.
“Hey!” He sounded angry, but when he turned around he was smiling. “What was that for?”
“Just a reminder that feminists have good aim.”
“Oh really?” He crouched down to grab two large handfuls of snow for himself.
“I bet you throw like a girl,” Caroline taunted.
“I’m going to tell the National Organization for Women you said that.” Jack packed the snow carefully. “They’re gonna revoke your membership.”
“Not a chance,” Caroline said. “I’m too likeable. Charming feminists are a rare breed in Washington.”
“Indeed they are,” Jack said. “But lest you forget, I did play Division I basketball.”
“Basketball players almost never learn how to play baseball properly,” Caroline said. “Too caught up in running suicides and doing dribbling exercises.”
He held up the snowball he’d made with his thumb and forefingers. It was significantly bigger than the one she had thrown at him.
“Wanna try those odds?” Jack asked.
Caroline spread her arms wide. “Go right ahead.”
Jack threw the snowball at her and it grazed her left arm. She was mildly impressed. “Nicely done, Mr. Point Guard.” Then she saw the bemused look on his face. “You weren’t aiming for my arm, were you?”
“Of course I was,” he said.
“You Republicans lie oh so well.”
“Wanna try those odds again?” He grabbed another large pile of snow.
Caroline ran into the snow covered grass despite the fact that she was wearing a skirt suit under her coat. The cold against her almost bare feet shocked her but she kept going. This was kind of fun.
He marched after her with a fresh snowball in his hand and she darted back and forth. “It’s probably a lot harder for you to hit a moving target,” she said.
The act of weaving through the snow in heels caused her breath to speed up. It took much more effort than if she had been wearing boots. Her feet were wet and she knew she’d have to change before she went to the hearing she was scheduled to attend later. Luckily she had a few spare pairs of nylons, shoes, and other clothing items stashed in her office in case of emergencies. Caroline started breathing even faster, realizing she’d lost some of her stamina. She really had to get back to the gym.
“It’s actually a lot easier.” Jack threw the second snowball as hard as he could, clipping her in the shoulder.
The large snowball smashed all over the place. Some of the wetness caught Caroline in the eyes and she instinctively started to wipe it away.
Jack dashed over to her. “Let me do that. Your mascara might run.” He quickly pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbed at the moisture on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you quite so close to your face.”
“I might have goaded you into it.” Caroline laughed nervously. “And it’s good to know that I was right. Your aim really isn’t that great after all.”
She was surprised at how gentle his touch was, and resisted a very unexpected urge to seize onto his coat lapels. Jack tenderly wiped the last of the snow off her face, brushed her hair back behind her ear, and put the handkerchief in his pocket.
“Well, then,” he said. “We’d best get back to work, right?”
It was strange, Caroline thought, as they walked in almost complete silence back to Rayburn. She was overanalyzing what happened. She and Jack were just friends. They’d become quite chummy since January and she enjoyed spending time with him. But the way he looked at her after he’d started wiping away the snow….
It was almost as if he was going to kiss her. But it had been her imagination. Jack didn’t view her in that way. Caroline wrapped her arms around herself and quickened her pace. She didn’t want to admit that there was a part of her, a very small part, that wished he did.
Chapter Seven
Caroline
April
It was shortly before Easter. Jack had come over for dinner that night and cooked for all of them, including Christine. Chrissy didn’t say much during the meal and muttered something about work as soon as she was finished eating. She still passive-aggressively refused to call Jack anything other than John or Representative McIntyre, a sure sign that she was not pleased to have to spend time with him.
Marguerite and Sophie enjoyed dinner very much, taking several friendly pokes at their mother’s inability to provide them with healthy yet tasty meals. Sophie then insisted that Jack read her a story before bed. She was an incredibly shy child, and Caroline was shocked that she seemed so comfortable with Jack. Marguerite kissed them both goodnight and went upstairs shortly after Sophie went to sleep.
Caroline gave Jack a piece by piece tour of her memorabilia collection. He seemed fa
scinated by her knowledge of baseball history, although he thought her decorative scheme was a little unique. Nicky had felt the same way. He spent hours trying to figure out why she enjoyed buying jerseys, helmets, gloves, and shoes that had been worn by other men, many of whom happened to be easy on the eyes.
After her tour, which Jack tolerated with surprisingly good humor, they settled onto the couch. Caroline pressed a DVD set into Jack’s hands.
“You have to watch this. Ken Burns’ Baseball. It’s incredible. And I bought it straight from PBS so it’s dripping with charitable goodness.”
He held it up by the corner. “Ew. I suppose you expect me to watch this during the hours of free time I have?”
“Make time,” she said firmly.
“I’d much rather spend it with you.”
“We could watch it together, then. I’ve seen it more than a few times.”
“I’d like that.” Jack turned so that he was facing her on the couch. “I hear Murdock is trying to get you to date him.”
“Who told you that?”
“I have sources.”
Jeffrey Murdock, a Democrat from Scranton and the surrounding area, had asked her out after a Homeland Security hearing earlier that week. It was the second time he asked, and the second time she said no. He’d also done it a couple of months after Nicky died, which Caroline found to be disrespectful and in very poor taste. Mostly because he wasn’t all that gentlemanly about it, propositioning her at a Democratic social gathering after more than a few drinks. For the most part, using lewd and inappropriate language to describe her anatomy was not the best way to convince her to go out with anyone.
Caroline thought he was slime and Christine confirmed her beliefs. Not that Representative Sullivan wasn’t biased; there weren’t all that many Democrats in the Pennsylvania delegation to begin with. But he was definitely a slug. Caroline hated the rumors floating around that he was hoping to move up to bigger and better things once he made a name for himself in the House. He certainly didn’t deserve to be rewarded for being such a horrible person. It drove her nuts that he was allowed to sit on one of the most sensitive committees in Congress.
She knew Murdock only asked her out because she was considered to be a rising star, and he’d do anything to get ahead. There was simply something about him she didn’t like. Caroline wasn’t one to speak ill of other members of Congress but if anyone asked her for her honest opinion of him, she had no trouble giving it.
The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Page 8