The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn)

by Cecilia London

  Christine smiled. “Congratulations on finally getting up to speed.”

  “Do you want it? I think it might help you.”

  “Why are you doing this now?”

  Caroline was not about to start crying in front of Jeanine, no matter how much she liked her. She looked down at her sling, thinking of that day at the Capitol in July, of the past year and a half when Christine had helped her through all of her rough patches without question or judgment. “You know why,” she said softly.

  Christine’s eyes clouded over for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “So it’s not because you ate all my favorite candy?”

  Caroline threw her good hand up in the air. “For Christ’s sake. I will buy you another bag. Of nothing but caramel and dark chocolate.”

  “Make sure they’re sea salt caramel.”

  What a little fussbudget. “You’re so goddamn picky. Fine.”

  “And I’m starting a swear jar for when you’re in my office,” Christine added.

  Caroline made a mental note to put some small bills in her purse. She’d soon be shelling out buckets of cash. “In any event, if you want my endorsement, you can have it,” she said. “I’ll even campaign with you if you want.”

  “You hate campaigning more than I do,” Christine pointed out.

  “I’ve recently discovered that it sounds much more appealing when I’m doing it on behalf of someone else.”

  Christine turned to her campaign manager. “Jeanine, what do you think of all of this?”

  “It’s a phenomenal idea,” Jeanine said. “The two of you together might play well, particularly among suburban female voters.”

  “She means the ladies who lunch,” Caroline said.

  “Thank you for the translation, Caroline,” Christine said. “I do usually understand what my campaign manager is trying to say.”

  Jeanine gave Christine a confused look. Maybe she was too young to appreciate classic Broadway musicals.

  “Don’t look at me,” Christine told her. “I’m grateful any time I understand Representative Gerard’s obscure references.” She turned back to Caroline. “Would you really campaign with me?”

  Christine was practically glowing. It was the happiest Caroline had seen her in weeks. “Jeanine and I came to the conclusion that it might be fun. Seeing as I’ll be unemployed in about fifteen months, I may as well keep myself occupied until then.”

  Christine got up from her desk, sat down on the armrest of the couch, and squeezed Caroline’s good hand. “Well, then. Let’s figure this out.”

  “How about over lunch?” She was still starving.

  “That works.”

  Caroline heard cheerful, high pitched voices outside Christine’s office, even with the door closed. Marguerite and Sophie had wandered in from next door. “Is it okay if the girls come along?”

  “You bet.”

  “What about your interns?”

  Christine laughed. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Past

  The dress wasn’t cream colored. At all. It was barely off white. Tea length and cut to perfection, it made Caroline look positively virginal. Not the message she wanted to send during their wedding ceremony, especially when it was her second kick at the cat. She sat down on the couch in a tiny room in the church alcove trying to calm her nerves. Almost showtime. Jen and Kathleen helped her get ready, trying to keep her distracted.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Jen said. “Are you nervous?”

  “No,” Caroline said. She rubbed her palms together. Friction. Movement. Distraction. Maybe that would help.

  “She’s going to pass out,” Kathleen said.

  “I am not.” Caroline took a deep breath. “Can I have some water?”

  Kathleen handed her a bottle from the mini fridge in the corner of the room. “This church has everything,” she said. “Do you think the priest blessed this bottle? Maybe some extra holiness would help you right now.”

  “Hush.” Caroline took a sip and gave her a pointed look. “I am not going to pass out.”

  “You don’t look all that steady to me.”

  “I’m fine.” She recapped the bottle. “I’m just a little upset that Jack didn’t want to see me before the ceremony.”

  Caroline made her feelings on that particular wedding day tradition well known, since it was based on the ancient belief that the husband should never see the wife before the wedding for fear that he’d find her unattractive and flee the scene. But Jack insisted that it be a surprise. He didn’t want to hear about the dress, didn’t want to know about the flowers…all he cared about was seeing her that afternoon at the altar.

  “He sucks,” Caroline said. “I’m nervous as hell.”

  Jen smiled triumphantly. “I knew it.”

  “It’s been a long time since I did this. Don’t I have a right to be a little uneasy, even though I’m making the right choice?”

  “No,” Jen said. “You must stay calm and collected, for that is what we expect from you at such a monumental moment in your life.”

  A hell of a time for Jen to place expectations on her. She’d been less nervous before her keynote address. Caroline turned to Kathleen. “Remind me to give Jen a hard time when she’s trying to hold it together at her own wedding.”

  Jen waved her off. “I have a year to prepare.”

  “It’s never enough time,” Caroline said. “Never.” She swallowed hard. “Marriage is permanent.”

  Kathleen snorted. “Just like divorce.”

  At least she hadn’t mentioned death. Caroline shuddered.

  Jen put her hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to go get Christine?”

  She took a deep breath, trying to quell her panic. Why was she getting so upset? “I want you to go get Jack.”

  “That won’t happen,” Jen said. “He’s been hiding from all of us. He knows we’ll just drag him to see you.”

  “Go get Bob,” Kathleen suggested.

  “Good idea.” Jen squeezed Caroline’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

  Kathleen shut the door after Jen left. “Are you okay?”

  Caroline rolled the half-empty water bottle between shaking hands. “I don’t know. What’s wrong with me?”

  “I’ve never been married, so I don’t know what to tell you. Are you nervous about the ceremony?”

  “No, I’ve done it before. I just-”

  Kathleen sat down next to her on the couch. “What is it? Come on, I don’t have time to go back and forth with you.”

  “I barely got a decade last time,” Caroline whispered.

  Kathleen put her arm around her. “Is that what you’re worried about? He’s not that much older than you. You two will probably be together for at least fifty years.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said. “Anything can happen.”

  “You can’t live your life dwelling on things like that. Would you rather not have him at all?”

  “No.” Caroline straightened up and swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Kathleen snatched a tissue from the end table and handed it to Caroline. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time. Don’t wreck your makeup.”

  “It’s waterproof mascara. Super heavy duty.”

  “Then we’re probably safe. Did you talk to Jack about this?”

  Caroline laughed. “Of course not. He’s so insecure sometimes. I didn’t want him to think I had cold feet.”

  Kathleen hugged her. “You’ll be fine. You just need to stop thinking so hard.”

  Jen burst back into the room, dragging a tuxedo-clad Robert Allen behind her. He didn’t appear all that happy. “Found him,” she said.

  “She found me, as she so gracefully put it, right when I realized I needed to take a piss,” Bob said. “I was about to walk into the men’s room when she started in on me.”

  Kathleen waved him toward the other side of the room. “Do your business in that single stall bathroom over ther
e. Try to avoid the beauty products. Caroline left her waterproof mascara on the vanity if you need something to bring out your eyes.”

  “I let him take care of it before I dragged him in here,” Jen said.

  “Yes.” Bob straightened his tie. “Thank you for that small favor, Ms. Whitcomb.” He smiled at Caroline. “You okay, sunshine?”

  “That’s our cue to leave.” Jen grabbed Kathleen by the arm. She nodded at Bob. “Mr. Speaker.”

  He waved her off. “Get out of here. She’ll be fine.” He shook his head once they were out the door. “She’s going to be trouble once she takes your seat. I can tell already.”

  Jen had announced her candidacy a few weeks before the wedding, after handing in a tearful resignation. “She’ll be great,” Caroline said.

  “What about you? Why did she come barreling out into the church looking for me?”

  “I’m a little nervous.”

  “You have no reason to be.”

  Of course he’d whip out the logic right away. “I know.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  She felt guilty, since she could say this to Bob and not Kathleen. It was somehow easier to burden him. “Marriage is forever,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d do it twice.”

  “You can’t control those things.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re happy,” Bob said. “Your kids are happy. McIntyre is happy. Can’t you see why that might be a better situation than what all of you were in before?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s okay to be nervous. Just don’t be nervous for the wrong reasons.”

  A valid point. “Jack went with me to Nicky’s gravesite last week.”

  That got his attention. “Oh?”

  “He asked him for permission to marry me.” She didn’t know for sure, but the signs were there. He told her he wanted a few minutes alone so she wandered around some of the larger memorials and vaults as she waited for him.

  “That was nice.”

  It was easier to ask the next question if she detached herself a little. “Do you think Nicholas would approve of what we’re doing?”

  “He’d want you to be happy, sunshine.” Bob rubbed her shoulders affectionately. “Life is too short to spend it being unhappy. You know that.”

  She probably should have voiced her concerns earlier than her wedding day, to someone with a sympathetic ear and a sensible mind. Bob had made her feel infinitely better with a few pithy phrases. “I know,” she said.

  “We’ve only got a few more minutes. I need to get you the hell out there before people start to think you ran away.”

  Caroline laughed as he yanked her to her feet. “Like I could run away in these.” She gestured toward her three inch strappy heels. Dancing shoes cleverly disguised as wedding attire. Too high to be sensible, too low to be unworkable. Her feet were going to be killing her at the end of the night.

  “Your shoes are fine. I wouldn’t expect anything less than impractical from you on a day like today.” He led her out the door. “Let’s go.”

  She could hear the prelude music playing. Had she wasted that much time pining in the alcove? Where was the photographer? And her children? Were they with Chrissy like they were supposed to be? Were they behaving themselves?

  Bob saw the look on her face. “Stop worrying. Everyone has everything taken care of. And you owe me at least two polkas tonight,” he added.

  Caroline smiled. Her mother’s side of the family was Polish. Part of the reason she’d fallen in love with Milwaukee while at Marquette. Chicago had a strong cultural history and she had a deep appreciation for her hometown, but no one did ethnic festivals quite like their sister city to the north. During college Caroline would make the short drive up on occasional summer weekends so she could spend a day by the lakefront absorbing the atmosphere. She’d always loved Polish Fest the most. And Bob was still trying to calm her down, which she appreciated.

  “Deal,” she said. “I added a couple of your favorite songs to the playlist, aside from some Frankie Yankovic.”

  Bob raised his eyebrows.

  “We might be subjecting the guests at the reception to more than one version of ‘Sweet Home Chicago,’” she said. “I hope you approve.”

  “I do.” He cleared his throat. “You really do look beautiful, sunshine.”

  She could barely muster a whisper, afraid she’d start crying. “Thank you.”

  A new tune began to play. The wedding processional from The Sound of Music. Bob grinned at her. “You’re a strange one, Representative Gerard.”

  He wasn’t the only one in good spirits. Caroline could hear the rumblings in the church. The familiar melody sparked a few giggles among the attendees. “My Captain von Trapp is waiting for me at the altar,” she said.

  “At least you were kind enough not to abandon any nuns behind an iron gate right before you walked down the aisle.”

  “My period of celibacy was thankfully short.” She waited for the first stanza to end. They’d timed her entry during the rehearsal. “I think that’s our cue.”

  Bob extended his elbow. “Then let’s get you married.”

  * * * * *

  The door to the suite swung open.

  “Jack, you don’t have to do this,” Caroline said.

  “Of course I do. It’s tradition.”

  “And I’m so big on that.”

  “That must be why you kept your name.” He lifted her up in his arms and carried her through the door, setting her down on the couch. “Your accommodations, my lady.”

  She sank back into the cushions. “Only for tonight.”

  “I’m going to carry you across every threshold we encounter for the next month.”

  “You might hurt yourself.”

  “And you can nurse me back to health.” Jack sat down on the couch next to her. “Don’t take off your shoes,” he said.

  “Why?” She was tired. And a little buzzed.

  “You’ll see.”

  “My feet hurt.”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  Caroline sat up straight, and took a minute to recover from the rush. She suspected she was going to have a hell of a Moscato headache on the plane the next morning. Jack started loosening his tie and taking off his jacket.

  That didn’t seem fair at all. “How come you get to undress?”

  “Oh, you can undress if you want. Just leave your shoes on. And any sexy underthings you might be wearing under that virginal white dress.”

  “Pervert. It’s off white.” She kept correcting people all night, and they kept insisting she was wrong. They laughed when she told them she’d ordered it in cream. Damn her bridal shop.

  “I am indeed a pervert, but I’m merely pointing out it’s easier to dance with proper footwear.”

  “Ooh, dancing. Didn’t we do enough of that downstairs?”

  “It’s not possible to do enough dancing, baby.”

  Caroline reached over to help him with his tie. “Does it bother you that I’m keeping my name? I didn’t change it last time, either.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I bet bloggers will be all over the analysis of that one,” she said. “Particularly the conservatives.”

  “I don’t care. Doesn’t matter what your name is. Now you’re my wife and I can do whatever I want to your body, Ms. Gerard.”

  “You did that before we were married.”

  “But now I’m contractually allowed to do it.”

  “You might need a little refresher on American law regarding marital relations,” Caroline said. “And I have no problem using your name socially. I’ve just always felt odd about the term ‘Mrs.’ I can’t explain why. It sounds matronly.”

  “Boarding school matron matronly, or old dowager matronly?”

  “A little of both. Maybe more Ann-Margret in Prison movie matronly.”

  “There are all sorts of kinky possibilities that could stem from that statement,” Jack said, slid
ing a hand under her dress.

  “Monty, you’re so wicked.”

  “You know you love it, Mrs. McIntyre. That’s right. I’m calling you that whether you like it or not.”

  “Monty and Mrs. McIntyre. That sounds more like a lighthearted nighttime serial than a porno.”

  “I’ve worked out several seasons of storyline.”

  “I bet you have.”

  Jack stood up and took her hand. “Are you going to dance with me, or what?”

  Caroline got to her feet. “Of course.”

  He led her toward the center of the room. It was a giant suite with a decent amount of furniture, but had a clear space suitable for dancing.

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “That’s an order from your husband.”

  She laughed and shut her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Jack whispered, his demeanor changing. He leaned in to nip at her neck. “I want you to say it more often. But I’m not ready to capitalize on it just yet.”

  Filthy, dirty man. But he was right. It wasn’t time to be naughty. Not with serious dancing business to be had.

  He broke their connection for the briefest of moments, and the room soon filled with music. Caroline recognized it immediately. One of her guilty pleasures. She had many: Jack Jones’ “Wives and Lovers,” “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” from The Sound of Music, “Hello” by Lionel Richie (her favorite stalker song), and the selection currently playing, “Someone to Watch Over Me.” She smiled as Jack came over to take her in his arms.

  “I know you prefer Ella Fitzgerald’s version of this song the best.” He started to guide her across the floor. “You can open your eyes now.”

  She was quite content to keep them shut and lean in, but opened them anyway to find him smiling at her.

  “Do you know how happy you make me?” he asked.

  Caroline kissed him lightly. “I have a vague idea. How does it feel being married?”

  “The first few hours have gone exceedingly well,” Jack said. “I love you, Mrs. McIntyre.”

  “And I love you.” She kissed him again. “This lost lamb is completely yours.” She rested her chin on his shoulder as their dancing slowed. “Did you reapply your cologne?”