“You have got to be kidding me. How did you get her on board with this crazy idea?”
“Wasn’t my crazy idea; it was hers.”
Jameson’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t look so surprised. Mom knows you better than anyone. You’re going to be forced to make more appearances without her. You know that. I can help you with that. I want to, so let me.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t say anything to me.”
“I asked her to let me talk to you about it. JD, look, the truth is I miss you guys. And, I want to help…”
Jameson held up her hand. “You don’t have to take anything else on. You’ve helped your mom plenty.”
“I don’t see helping you as taking anything else on. JD, I don’t want to sit the rest of this campaign out. Believe it or not, I do have some idea what I’m doing. Mom trusts that I can handle this. Dana thinks it’s a win. Mel does too. Can’t you at least give it a try?”
Jameson did believe that Michelle could handle it. She’d been worrying about her ability to do Candace justice on the big stage. Jameson wasn’t a public speaker and she’d never desired public attention. She did need guidance. She trusted Michelle. Jameson understood Candace’s reasoning. She resented the fact that Candace had blindsided her. That was not Shell’s issue. She took a deep breath. “Okay, Shell.”
Michelle smiled. “You’ll have groupies before you know it.”
“Great.”
***
Candace took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. She’d been running at full speed since before the sun came up. Meetings, conference calls, more meetings, legislative proposal reviews, a few more calls, and a convention all needed her attention. She heard the rap on her door and groaned. “I don’t want any!”
Jameson opened the door and peered inside. “Okay, I’ll take it back.”
Candace laughed. “Get in here. What are you doing here? I thought you were at Shell’s?”
“You mean you thought I was meeting with my media adviser?”
Candace grimaced.
“Um-hum. When did you plan to tell me about this master plan you two concocted?”
“Jameson, I…”
“I get it. I wish you would have told me.”
“Shell wanted to pitch you the idea.”
Candace’s words struck a nerve. Jameson had been trying to calm her anger on the drive to Albany. “Pitch me the idea? What am I, one of your minions?”
“Jameson…”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I have no idea what is going on.”
“That wasn’t my intention or Shell’s.”
“I know that. I’d rather hear what you’re thinking from you and not your daughter.”
“Point taken.”
“I know that you’re stressed. I can see it. Don’t shut me out.”
Candace sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t shut me out, Candace. This isn’t easy for me.”
“I know that. I want to help.”
“You can help by telling me what you’re thinking. My God, you discussed this with Dana? Shell? Shell discussed it with Melanie?”
“You made your point,” Candace snapped.
“Did I? Are you even listening to me?”
“Are we seriously going to argue about this?”
“We are if you aren’t going to take it seriously,” Jameson replied evenly.
“Why are you so opposed to this? I know you aren’t in love with the idea of making speeches and doing interviews. I was trying to make that a little easier for you. Shell is a pro, Jameson—a pro who loves you.”
“I love Shell. That’s not the point and you know it.”
“What is your point?” Candace asked harshly.
A disbelieving chuckle passed Jameson’s lips. “You know what? Maybe you were right when I knocked.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jameson turned and opened the door. “I’ll leave you to it, Governor. You let me know when my wife is available.” Jameson walked through the door and let it close behind her.
Candace threw her head back. “Shit.”
***
“Momma?” Cooper called for Jameson’s attention.
“I’m sorry, Coop. What did you say?”
Cooper frowned. Jameson had been telling him a story and had drifted into silence after he had asked her a question. “Are you mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Cooper, why would I be mad at you?”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Jameson said.
“Are you mad at Mommy?”
Jameson smiled. Way to go, JD. “I’m not mad at anyone, buddy; I promise.”
“How come you yelled?”
“When did I yell?”
“On the phone with Grandma.”
Jameson mentally slapped herself. Her mother had called when Cooper was in the bathtub. She’d recapped her conversation with Michelle and the argument that followed with Candace. True to form, Maureen Reid had attempted to calm Jameson. Jameson perceived that as her mother siding with Candace—again. Sometimes, they both made her feel like a child. That was not a feeling Jameson appreciated. She was angry. More than that, Jameson was hurt. She accepted what loving Candace meant. That didn’t prevent her from struggling with certain realities. Speaking in front of large crowds, giving solo interviews on television—those inevitabilities were far outside Jameson’s comfort zone. She was content to stand in Candace’s shadow. The spotlight unnerved her. Now, she would be forced to stand in it without Candace by her side. The last thing she needed was to feel pushed aside. It wasn’t Candace’s idea to have Michelle coach her that upset Jameson. It was the knowledge that everyone had input into the idea except Jameson. When her mother expressed the possibility that Jameson was overreacting, Jameson had cut off the conversation abruptly, not quietly.
“I’m sorry, Coop. I’m not mad. I’m just a little tired.”
“Want me to tell you a story instead?” Cooper offered.
Awww, Coop. “I love your stories.”
Cooper beamed. “’Kay.” He patted his bed. “Lay down, Momma and I’ll tell you a good one.”
Jameson laid down beside her son and pulled him into her arms. She thought her heart might burst from the gratefulness she felt. Her thoughts immediately spiraled to Candace. She hated being angry. She and Candace seldom fought. This was one of the few instances when Jameson felt the need to hold her ground, even if it tore her apart inside.
“Once upon a time,” Cooper began.
***
Dana was surprised to see Candace at her desk. “You’re still here?”
“Why not? You are.”
Dana’s brow furrowed. Candace tended to be even-tempered. She was sure that Candace was tired; everyone was. Something else was nagging at the governor. “Want to tell me who pissed you off?”
“Not really.”
“So, someone did piss you off.”
Candace chuckled uncomfortably. “More like I pissed someone off.”
“Well, no offense, but that is a daily occurrence.”
Candace laughed.
“So? What gives?” Dana asked.
“Jameson gives.”
“Come again.”
Candace closed her laptop and reclined in her chair. “Jameson—she talked to Shell today.”
“She doesn’t like the idea of Shell working with her?”
“More like she didn’t like the fact that everyone knew about that idea before she did.”
“I don’t think I…”
“She’s right,” Candace said. “She usually is.”
“I’m not following.”
“Well, I brought the idea to you. You thought it was great.”
“Right… Shell’s been nagging you since she was in the hospital to let her help somehow.”
“That’s not the issue. I discussed it with you. We brought it to Shell. Shell talked
it over with Melanie…”
“Oh, boy… and, JD was the last to hear it.”
Candace’s brow arched in acknowledgment.
“I think I understand, but no one did that intentionally.”
“No, but that’s almost worse. I’ve been so caught up in keeping up that I kept her out.”
“What are you talking about?”
Candace rubbed her eyes. “I did. She’s right. I shut her out.”
“Candy, you have had more on your plate than anyone should have to deal with since you clinched the nomination. Aside from all the everyday responsibilities you have here, you lost your mother; Shell had the twins, you’ve had the convention and vetting Vice Presidential candidates. I mean—come on, give yourself a break.”
“Maybe so. Put yourself in her position, Dana. Jameson has given up everything to support me.”
“I don’t think she sees it that way.”
“No, I know she doesn’t see it that way. She’s had to compromise more than anyone. The one thing she asked of me was not to shut her out. That’s exactly what I did. I made a decision that affects her like I would a decision about a stump speech.”
“That’s not what you did.”
“Isn’t it?” Candace shook her head. “I fucked up, Dana.”
“So, tell her that you’re sorry.”
“I don’t think sorry is going to cover this one.”
“Candy, JD loves you more than anything.”
“That’s why she’s so hurt,” Candace observed. “And, she has every right to be.”
“Beating yourself up isn’t going to make it better.”
“Maybe not. I can’t help it right now. She’s the last person I want to see hurt in any of this craziness. And, I’m the one who hurt her.”
Dana often marveled at the change in Candace since meeting Jameson. She did not doubt that if Jameson asked Candace to bow out of the race, Candace would. She’d known Jameson for more than twenty years. One thing Dana was certain of, few people loved each other as completely as Jameson and Candace Reid. To many looking in, the couple appeared picture-perfect. They weren’t. They were human. Dana witnessed exhaustion, regret, and pain in Candace’s eyes. She also recognized what Candace needed now. “Go home,” Dana said. “Tell her, not me.”
Candace nodded. “Thanks.”
“It’s my job.”
“And you do it well.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.”
“Candy?”
“Hum?”
“Any closer to making that pick?”
Candace smiled. She hadn’t told anyone that she’d settled on a running mate yet. She had. It occurred to her who she needed to share that with now. “I’ll let you know.”
Dana grinned knowingly. “Night. Governor.”
“Goodnight.”
***
Candace peeked into Cooper’s room and smiled. Jameson was asleep. Candace was surprised to see Cooper reading a book. “Did Momma put herself to sleep?” she asked her son.
Cooper smiled. “Hi, Mommy,” he whispered.
“Why are you still awake?”
Cooper shrugged. “I was telling Momma stories.”
“You were?”
“Yep. Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you mad?”
“Mad?”
“At Momma?”
Candace sat down on the edge of the bed. “No, sweetheart.”
“Momma was mad tonight. She yelled at Grandma on the phone.”
Candace nodded. “She had a long day.”
“Yep. Then she was sad.”
“She was?”
“Yeah. I could tell.”
“So, you told her some stories?”
“Yep.” Cooper looked over at Jameson. “I don’t like it when she’s sad.”
“I don’t either.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Cooper?”
“Never mind.”
“Cooper?”
“Can you stay with us tomorrow?”
“I wish I could, sweetheart. I have to work tomorrow.”
Cooper looked down sadly.
“What about if I promise that we can have pizza tomorrow night when I get home—just the three of us?”
“Really?”
“I promise.”
Cooper threw himself into Candace. The motion stirred Jameson from her sleep. She squinted to bring the room into focus.
“Hi,” Candace said.
Jameson smiled. “What time is it?”
“It’s late,” Candace replied.
“Coop put me to sleep.”
“So, I heard.”
Cooper grinned proudly. “Yep. I told Momma about when Genie drove the train.”
“It’s a good one,” Jameson said as she pulled herself from the bed.
“Mommy says we can have pizza tomorrow.”
Jameson nodded. “Pizza, huh?”
“Yep! Just us.”
“Just you and Mommy?” Jameson teased.
“No! And you, Momma.”
“Oh, I get to have pizza too?”
“Yep!”
“Do I have to make it?” Jameson asked.
“No. You buy it, Momma!”
Jameson chuckled. “All right, pizza boy. Lights out.”
Cooper pulled up his blanket and snuggled his pillow.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Candace kissed Cooper’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“’Kay.”
Jameson flipped off the light and followed Candace from the room.
“We need to talk,” Candace said.
“I know. No offense, you look exhausted. It can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” Candace disagreed. “Not this.”
“Do you want to go downstairs?”
Candace felt her heart drop. “I’d rather go to our room.”
Jameson nodded. She held out her hand to Candace and led her down the hall. She closed the bedroom door and was taken off guard when she turned to find tears in Candace’s eyes. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m so tired, Jameson.”
Jameson folded Candace into her embrace. “I know that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know that too. What I don’t know is why you’re crying.”
Candace stepped away. “I told you; I’m tired.”
“I can see that.”
“You weren’t wrong earlier.”
Jameson listened.
“I should have talked to you first. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“Maybe because it didn’t occur to you that you needed to,” Jameson offered.
“Jameson, I…”
“Just hear me out.”
“Okay.”
“You’re so used to having to direct everyone and everything that I fell into that category. I know you didn’t mean for that to happen. That is what happened, Candace. It didn’t seem like a big deal. I know it didn’t—not to you. You did what you would do with any decision on your campaign. You brought it to the experts.”
Candace covered her face. Jameson had nailed it. That’s exactly what she had done. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, I know. You need to slow down for a minute.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Candace snapped.
Jameson raised her brow.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to take a breath, and not just for me. You can’t be everything to everyone all the time. You’re running so fast,” Jameson stopped and pointed to her head. “Up here. You are always running. You haven’t taken any time to be quiet. You aren’t sleeping. You can’t go on like this. I can’t go on like this. You need to talk to me, Candace. And, lately? It feels like you are avoiding that. Ever since your mom…”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t fill up that hole with work.”
Candace collaps
ed in defeat onto the bed and put her face in her hands. Jameson knew her better than anyone.
“What happened with us earlier, that happened because you are on auto-pilot,” Jameson said.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are the last person I want to hurt.”
Jameson sat beside her wife. “I know that. I know you. Candace, everyone is spinning in circles around you. You need be the one to slow that down. I may not be the political wonk in this family. I do know that you can’t go on like this. You can’t.”
“What about you?”
“What about me? I love you. Do you understand why I’m upset?”
“I didn’t mean to make you an oversight.”
“That’s exactly my point. You didn’t mean to, but it still happened. You’re on autopilot when you’re home lately. The campaign? Your job? Those aren’t the cause. Those are your escape. Talk to me.”
Candace looked up and met Jameson’s expectant gaze. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Your mother?”
“Not just that. That, but… How did she get that way? What happened to the woman I remember putting ice on my lip? She just disappeared. How does someone disappear when they are still there? What makes a person do that?”
Jameson took Candace’s hands with hers. “I think you know that answer.”
“Do I?”
“Look at the last few weeks. You’re doing the same thing without knowing it. Maybe not the same way. You say, ‘I love you.’”
“I do love you.”
“You’re not listening to me. You’re hurting—more than I think I have ever seen you hurt. This has brought it all back up for you—every loss. Tell me that I’m wrong?”
Candace closed her eyes.
“You’re scared. You can control this campaign. You can get people marching in line without them even knowing it. You can’t control life and death. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jameson. I look at Cooper and I find myself terrified. What if something happens to me? What was I thinking? I’m sixty. Look at you; you have your whole life in front of you.”
“So, do you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“We’ve been through this for years. When are you going to let this go?”
“I don’t want to let you down, Jameson. That includes leaving you alone. Cooper—the kids. Jesus. Then, I start thinking about my mother again, and then Pearl.”
Election Day Page 7