Running

by Dave Milbrandt

  “I just got a text from mom… Ohmygosh! Aunt Melissa’s gone into labor and they’re headed to EV Community.”

  “She’s not due until December. Is everything OK?”

  “It doesn’t say. Let me text Mom back and find out.”

  Mentally mapping the quickest route to Emerald Valley Community Hospital, Jim failed to see the piece of metal in the road until it was too late.

  The loud pop from the blown tire shocked them both, but Jim quickly found a parking spot along the street and pulled the car out of traffic. He called AAA for a tow to a nearby garage and then phoned Brian to come and trade cars so Jim could get to the hospital while his chief of staff dealt with the repair.

  As they waited, Rebecca took a picture of the tire and uploaded it to the campaign’s Twitter feed.

  Jim raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you worried that showing us with a flat tire will suggest our campaign is ‘broken down’?”

  “Actually, I think it shows that we’re not going to let a little nail in the road stop us from winning.”

  “You know, you’re pretty amazing at all this.”

  She smiled. “I had some good teachers.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jim’s car was headed to the shop while he and Rebecca were off to the hospital.

  _____

  The afternoon and evening were an unending series of doctors and nurses and contractions and groans of pain. More than once, the couple agreed that this was the last kid they were going to have.

  After one particularly painful contraction and conversation about going through this again, Melissa held out the smallest finger on her right hand. “Pinky promise?”

  “What are we, five?”

  “Not quite. I was thinking that if you get me pregnant again, I’ll cut off your finger. Deal?”

  The gleam in her eye proved to Jim her humor remained despite the pain. “Uh, I don’t think so. I like all my digits right where they are, thank you very much.”

  The two laughed as she rubbed her husband’s cheek. “You look almost as bad as I do.”

  “Gee thanks. I would argue with you, but I’m sure that would come out as an insult somehow. Anyway, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You were never very good at it.” She smiled. “Seriously though, you should take a break and get something to eat. The doctor said it’ll be at least another hour, so as long as you’re back in about 30 minutes, you won’t miss any of the fun. Just send Elizabeth in while you’re gone.”

  “OK, if you insist. But have someone text me if you need me to come back sooner.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I love you, beautiful.”

  “Love you, too. See you in half an hour.”

  _____

  As he entered the cafeteria, he checked his phone to note the time. 7:28. The polls would close at 8 p.m., but for the first time since Memorial Day, politics was the last thing on his mind. Jim grabbed a turkey sandwich and filled a cup with broccoli cheddar soup. But when he searched for a seat, each table had at least one person already. He found a table with a man a few years younger than him and asked to join him.

  “Sure,” the man said. His half-eaten burrito sat lonely on his plate, his gaze transfixed on a spot just below the TV. The cable news pundits were discussing voter turnout estimates and what it would mean for the presidential candidates.

  The hospital security officer who had been asked to keep an eye on Jim in the hospital began to approach in an overabundance of caution, but Jim shook his head to wave him off.

  After finishing his soup, Jim noticed his table partner had not moved or said a word. Unnerved by the silence and the man’s obvious melancholy, he introduced himself and learned that the man’s name was Will and he was a new father to a boy named Andy.

  “We named him after my dad, who goes by Andrew. They have different middle names, though.”

  “When was Andy born? Earlier today?”

  Will shook his head. “Ten days ago. He’s up in the NICU. He was born seven weeks early and his lungs hadn’t fully developed yet. They took him away from us almost immediately and rushed him upstairs and put into one of those incubators. Have you ever been up there?”

  Jim shook his head.

  “Well, they buzz you in, which makes you feel bad and good all at the same time. I mean, I’m thankful that they are so secure, but it feels like the babies are experiments in a laboratory. Anyway, there are several different things they look for before they’ll send him home, and the doctors say he’s almost there. Hopefully just another day or two.” Will paused. “Sorry for babbling on like that.”

  “No, no worries. In my job, I usually do all the talking, so it’s nice to listen for a change.” He looked at his phone. “Listen, I’ve got about five minutes before I have to get back to my wife, who’s about to give birth to our second child. I know you don’t know me very well, but do you mind if I pray for you? You sound like you could use it.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. I haven’t been to church in a while, but I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  The two bowed their heads for a few moments before leaving. Jim ate the remainder of his sandwich on his way to the elevator.

  _____

  A few minutes before 9 p.m., the second child of Jim and Melissa Mitchell came into the world. The girl, weighing in at seven pounds exactly, passed the APGAR newborn response assessment with flying colors, particularly the part on crying.

  Jim shook his head. “Man, that girl’s got a set of lungs on her. Mark was so quiet.”

  “You know what they say: every kid is different.” She smiled at the newborn in her arms. “It’s so weird. This morning we woke up and we were the parents of one child, a three-year-old boy who loves his Legos more than anything. Now we have a boy and a girl.”

  “I know, and she’s healthy as can be, which is so amazing to me right now.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Jim explained his encounter with Will in the hospital cafeteria. “You assume everything’s going to be all right, but you never know. Andy could have lung problems for the rest of his life. And even if a child’s healthy, like she is, you never know what’s going to happen down the road.”

  Melissa’s brow scrunched. “Where’s this coming from, hon?”

  “I want to be there. I don’t want to miss a minute more of her life than I have to.” He paused as he looked at his daughter and then at Melissa. “I can go out there right now and tell them ‘I quit’.”

  “James Trenton Mitchell, you will do no such thing. You worked hard to get that seat, and you’re not giving it up. You keep running away from jobs. Not intentionally, maybe, but you do. You need to stick with this one and see where it takes you. We’ll work it out. We always do. I knew what I was signing on for when you decided to run for office, and I haven’t changed my mind since then. It won’t be easy, and I might have to cut back to part time after I come back from maternity leave, but I’m not letting you give up. You’re where you are for a reason and, until God makes it clear you need to leave, that’s where you need to stay.”

  “Well, it’s good to know you’re not indifferent on the topic.” The two shared in a bit of laughter to lighten the mood. “You know, we should decide on a name before the doctor decides we name it after him.”

  “His name is Harold, and there’s no way I’m calling our daughter Harry.” She sighed. “This was so easy when we picked out names six months ago, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Jim thought for a moment, the softly beeping monitors tracking the passing moments. The baby was handed from mother to father and the silent deliberation continued. “I know we liked Grace for a first name, but how about we name her after her cousin. Rebecca has been such an important part of the campaign, but the way she’s being talking about what she would do if we had a girl, I can tell she’ll be a major part of her life. And, with two kids now, we need all the help we can get.”

  “That’s true, but we want her to have her own first name
and not have to share it with someone already in the family. Mark’s namesake has passed away, but Rebecca is alive and well.”

  “How about Becca?” Jim looked at his daughter, who stirred in her striped swaddling blanket. “Does Becca sound good to you?”

  Their eyes locked, and she offered the slightest of grins.

  “Well, that’s settles it,” Jim said. “She looked straight at me and smiled. It’s probably gas, but at this point, I don’t care. I’m taking it as a sign. We’ll put Rebecca Grace on the birth certificate, but I give you your daughter, Becca Mitchell.”

  As he passed Becca to her mother, the infant began to cry.

  “See, she loves her daddy already. I knew that kid had good taste.”

  Melissa snorted. “Fine, that just means you get up every morning at two and walk her until she falls asleep.”

  “Now, now, little lady. No need to use fightin’ words,” Jim said in his best John Wayne impression. “Seriously though, I’m not going to be home enough as it is, so I’ll be happy to hold her whenever I can.”

  Rebecca knocked before entering the room. “I’m so sorry to disturb you guys, but Tammi Cunningham from the Courier has a deadline in 15 minutes, and she’s called me three times to see if can give her a quote. I told her I wasn’t sure, but that I would talk to you.”

  Jim stood. “Sure, I can talk to Tammi.” He shifted his gaze from Rebecca to his wife and daughter. “I will be back in five minutes, tops. While I’m gone, you can introduce Rebecca to her cousin.”

  He quickly ducked out of the room while their niece met her namesake.

  _____

  Mitchell Likely to Win in 42nd District

  By Tammi Cunningham

  STAFF WRITER

  Incumbent Jim Mitchell (I) has been re-elected to his seat in the 42nd Assembly District, early results show.

  As of 10 p.m. Tuesday evening, Mitchell was leading his Democratic opponent Kenny Burdo, 50 to 45 percent. Republican Linda Dooley, who left the race last Friday citing family concerns, likely received much of the remainder of the vote, experts predicted. The results indicated about 200,000 voters cast a ballot either today or in early voting by mail.

  In addition to his expected win, the assemblyman has another reason to celebrate. His wife, Melissa Jenkins, a reporter at the Courier, gave birth to a baby girl, Becca, shortly after the polls closed.

  “While I’m thankful for the support shown by the voters, I think I’m more excited that my wife and our new daughter are healthy and resting,” he said. “I am blessed beyond measure.”

  Mitchell, a former staffer for Assemblywoman Delores, was appointed to her seat in early August after she was shot and killed Aug. 2 in front of Emerald Valley City Hall.

  Emerald Valley resident Gregory Booker was arrested last week on suspicion of killing Holcombe and planning a terror attack in downtown Los Angeles.

  Foothill University Professor Frank Holland said that while the race was a chaotic one, with an unprecedented $20 million being spent by in-state and out-of-state groups seeking to either cement or thwart a Democratic supermajority in the state legislature, the final outcome did not surprise him too much.

  “Republicans have about a 5 percent margin in the district, but 20 percent of voters are independent. The fact that Mitchell worked for Holcombe gave him an edge with Republicans, and being an Independent seemed to make up for his lack of political experience,” he said. “He and his team did some good, old-fashioned pounding the pavement and getting to know the voters and what matters to them, which helped him temper the tsunami of money being spent in this race.”

  Alisa Britzman, 23, a fourth-grade teacher at D. Marie Smith Elementary School, voted for the first time in this election.

  “I normally don’t care too much about politics because all they do is fight against each other, but Jim Mitchell seems different,” she said. “He’s a regular guy who wants to make a difference. I just hope he’s successful.”

  Tammi Cunningham covers Emerald Valley for the Southern California Courier. Follow her on Twitter @TammiSCCourier.

  17

  Monday, December 26

  In the weeks since the election and birth of his daughter, more had changed at home than in the office. One of the key differences was that Melissa was now working completely from home and leaving the Courier for good. While she was sad to be quitting her job, she valued the secondary benefit almost as much as the freedom to stay with Becca—that no one could accuse the publication of a conflict of interest in its coverage of Jim. Starting the first of the year she would have two jobs: a public affairs position at EV Community Hospital that allowed her to file stories remotely, and part-time writer for Lion Life, the alumni publication for Foothill University. With an at-home team comprised of her mom and sister, along with Jim’s aunt Patty, things were fairly well under control.

  While there was some dissension at work, Jim had learned a long time ago that was par for the course when it came to politics. For years people had complained that the legislative districts were purposefully designed to keep the same individuals, or at least the same party, in power every year. A few years back, a ballot initiative called for a panel of everyday citizens to redraw the lines more fairly. The result was differently shaped districts with the same political parties in power. The November election hadn’t changed any of that. The split was still 54-25 and 1, with Jim being the lone assembly member with no political party affiliation. And like before, that meant everyone was knocking on his door looking for support on this or that piece of legislation.

  Jim had planned to go to the office for just a few minutes the day after Christmas, but things went badly as soon as he sat in his chair. Three emails awaited him, none of which were complimentary. Two of them were from Democrats in his district and one from a Republican. All threatened they would hold it against him if he didn’t support their position on the new climate change legislation slated to be introduced when the Assembly met in a couple of weeks.

  “Can’t please everyone apparently,” he said as he opened the Channel 5 News website. Reporter Sara Switzer was doing a live feed from the mountains. The setting looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it at the moment. He clicked the sound button and then picked up some letters to open and read.

  “—here at the former retreat center where the bodies of 28 New Creation Fellowship members were discovered eight years ago today following their mass suicide.”

  Jim turned to face the screen directly as the reporter continued. There can’t be a good reason she’s there.

  “In just a few minutes, Larry Holcombe, widower of Assemblywoman Delores Holcombe, who was killed in August at Emerald Valley City Hall, will give a press conference about her death. It will be the first time he has spoken since the shooting, although the exact reason for calling the media here today is as yet unclear. We will cover his comments live when they happen. Back to you in the studio, Rick.”

  Jim called Brian, apologizing for interrupting his planned week off.

  “That’s OK. Actually I'm just picking up a coffee and bagel from Classic Grounds. What’s up?”

  Jim explained what he just saw. “I have no idea what Larry’s going to say, but I doubt it’s good. Call Mina and have her meet us here at the office to figure out if we need to respond.”

  He then texted Melissa and told her turn on the news. He turned up the volume again when he saw Holcombe approach a group of reporters holding microphones. Jim recognized the man standing next to the assemblywoman’s widower in a flash: Adam Bashore, the lawyer who had used some questionable means to defend John “Jackie D” Douglas, the star athlete from Foothill University who had sexually assaulted his girlfriend. He also helped Dylan Shaw, who had killed his mistress, the wife of Jim’s friend, professor Fred MacKinnon. I don’t like the looks of this one bit.

  Holcombe introduced himself and thanked the reporters for coming before glancing at his notes. As Jim remembered, the former city councilman
was a pretty good extemporaneous speaker and likely wouldn’t be referring to his notes very much.

  “Eight years ago today, heroic first responders were called to this retreat center to discover that 28 people had been coerced to take their own lives by a megalomaniac, a mad man born Gerald Hartley, who was calling himself Jeremiah Harmon. Shepherd Jeremiah to be exact.

  “One of the people who died that day was our daughter, our baby, Angela. She may have been an adult, but she will always be my little girl. And Mr. Hartley took advantage of her and used her for his own twisted purposes and, when he was done with her, he threw her away.”

  Holcombe wiped away a tear that likely was all too real. Jim remembered that, when he would run into the former local lawmaker over the years, the topic of his daughter’s death was off the table in a way that it was not for Delores. Looking at the picture of Becca on his desk, Jim could, for the first time, understand how Holcombe would have felt like a failure as a father and a man.

  “And while I don’t absolve that evil man for anything he did, he did not act alone. Others were complicit in this crime. Ones who have not been held accountable.”

  Oh Larry, where are you going with this?

  “While it could be argued that there should have been an IRS audit done of Hartley and his fake counseling business that was basically a front for a blackmail scheme…”

  A scheme you paid into so people would not know your daughter was a recovering drug addict.

  “There is one person in particular who knew what was going on and did nothing about it. That man is Assemblyman Jim Mitchell, and it’s high time he paid for his crimes.”

  Brian knocked at his door and Jim waved him in. The strategist was watching the press conference on his phone. “Did he just call you a mass murderer?”