Thanksgiving is a holiday not forgotten after Trident. Other than Thanksgiving, Christmas is in a month or so. Then in the summer in place of Independence Day, we now do “Remembrance Day”, still on July 4th but in remembrance for all the lives lost from Trident, a way to honor both the way things used to be and the way things are now. Each township does something to honor the lives lost, like in Omaha we plant trees in the Trident Arboretum. But, those three are the only holidays we still formally recognize.
Normally, we just have a day off work and enjoy extra time and food with our own families. A feast put on for the entire township is definitely not the norm for Thanksgiving. Although we will still have to be dressed in formal wear, I am kind of excited for this. I only wish all the townships could do it. I’ll add that to the list of things I would want to do if I make it to the end of this. I have to keep thinking like that or I will never keep smiling enough to get these votes.
So we have another meet and greet and a Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. Then Friday we have an interview, and it marks one week until the first vote results. On Thursday we will get the results from the townships of Denver, Vegas, and Galveston. The other half of the results will be on Friday.
The votes are all done digitally. Jamie’s brother Jaden was in charge of the program used to tally and take the votes. He designed an amazing program over the last few years in which each person uses a personal code they create in advance to sign on and vote on two computers on a secure server in the townships. As a hacker, he says he made it “unhackable”. That gives me peace of mind knowing that Hadenfelt can’t tamper with the votes we actually do acquire.
Although I feel confident the tour went well, I still don’t know if it was enough. I guess only the votes will tell us. It’s eating away at me though. I want to get this first round of voting over with. There were roughly three weeks from the final four to the first vote. Then there will be two weeks before the second vote getting us down to the final two. Then there will be two more weeks and the announcement of the new Presidential Couple will be made on New Year’s Eve, with them being sworn in and taking office on the start of the New Year.
It’s weird to think I could possibly be the next Madam President in just a little over a month. But it’s also weird to think very far past this first vote. Can we really make it to the final two and bring my family here? It seems so far off, but in reality, could happen by Christmas. If we get that far anyway.
I must have fallen asleep on the plane, which is a first, because the next thing I know I’m being carried in those muscular arms I know and love. He even tucks me into my fluffy bed still in my dress, though he takes off my heels for me. Although I am kind-of-sort-of awake, I am too tired to form words.
Lyncoln leans over and kisses my hair at my forehead. “I love you more than you know. Sleep well, gorgeous.”
Chapter 11
I wake with a jolt and hear something from the bathroom. I check the clock, and though it’s still dark in my room, it is 0800 hours.
HOLY CRAP! Why didn’t someone wake me?!
I jump out of bed, still in my dress from yesterday, and find Gertie in my bathroom readying the tub with her famous butter bath.
“I am so sorry,” I say panicked.
She holds up a hand to stop my freak out. “Don’t be dear. I’m the one who is sorry because I woke you. The meet and greet is at 1100 hours and the feast at 1300 hours. I wanted to give you as much time as possible to rest up after the busyness of this week.”
Oh. Thank goodness.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile, taking a deep breath of relief that I didn’t oversleep. “Do you know what Frank has lined up for us to wear today?”
“Oh yes, dear,” Gertie smiles. “He has been working on your outfits for the feast, for the interview tomorrow, and for the first two votes since before we left.”
“That madman,” I scoff then add, “What an overachiever.”
She laughs. “Oh, he absolutely loves it. He loves it much more than working in the communications tower when he isn’t needed for being a fashionista.”
Sometimes I forget that Gertie and Frank don’t do this as their careers. They had to apply to do this for the Culling. It’s sad that any and all forms of art are dying post-Trident. All the focus has been on rebuilding and fixing things. No one has stopped to realize that the way we will remember the pre-Trident era is their art. How will the next generations remember us if we have none?
I gladly take the butter bath Gertie had ready to relax. As I’m eating a bagel for breakfast afterward, Frank comes in with a steaming cup of coffee and the dress bags. He has Lyncoln’s previous attendant, Royce, with him also. They quickly get everything hung up. There had to have been at least four bags. Honestly, how many clothes do we need for today?
“My darling, how are you feeling?” Frank asks excitedly.
“Good. It feels good to be back in Denver. And even better to have gotten some decent sleep,” I say honestly.
Gertie hands me a glass of iced tea knowing that for me it is never too early for my beverage of choice.
“Fantastic all around,” Frank nods in agreement enthusiastically as he sets his coffee down then claps his hands together, rubbing them back and forth. “So. I have had my seamstress and Royce working ‘round the clock on your next few pieces.” He unzips the first bag and holds out the loveliest yet simplest strapless deep purple dress I have ever seen. “Do you like?”
“I love,” I nod eagerly.
“It was decided the candidates are to wear formal ball wear for the feast, with all you ladies wearing traditional poufy gowns. But I knew you wouldn’t like looking so overdressed and over the top compared to everyone else, so I made sure to keep it as simple as possible,” Frank explains.
“It looks so comfy. And soft. And it’s poufy but not too poufy. I love it.” I nod vehemently. “What is Lyncoln wearing?”
“Black pinstripe of course. Deep purple matching dress shirt, black pinstripe vest, and a purple tie with a small checkered design.” As he explains, Royce pulls it out and shows me.
“We will match perfectly,” I nod in approval.
“You always do,” he winks and the way he says it makes me wonder if we are talking about clothes anymore.
Later, standing in front of the mirror for what must be the hundredth time since starting the Culling, I think that Frank is a genius. My hair is all up, but in an extravagantly braided bun. The dress is tight around my chest and snugly forms a “v”, but in a way that I don’t have any hideous cleavage like Marisol does with her dresses. It’s skin tight to the hips, where the big skirt takes over. But instead of being heavy, it’s a soft, flowy material that goes outward around me. And, of course, in true Frank fashion there’s a slit up the leg, but it’s only seen when I walk. The slit might have been made to help me walk easier this time rather than to show off my legs like the usual purpose.
My favorite part is that underneath the layer of deep purple material all around me is a layer of the same material in a light lavender color. You can only see it by the slit when I walk, or if my dress moves up off the floor. What a very simple but profound way to make this dress even more elegant. The little details are what make something so simple, extravagant.
“Frank. Was this your idea?” I ask as I bunch up the dress so the lighter color peaks out.
He nods.
“It’s my favorite part,” I say as I swish back and forth and look at the colors dance in the mirror.
Frank chuckles, “Darling, most girls would be in awe of the diamonds around your neck that cost an upwards of one-hundred-thousand pre-Trident dollars.”
Holy crap. I don’t ask about the jewelry because I generally don’t want to know. Am I usually wearing that much in diamonds?! Holy crap! This is one of the simpler necklaces I have worn too.
“Well Frank, we all know she most definitely isn’t like most girls,” a velvety voice says from behind me.
I turn ar
ound with a smirk, but it fades immediately. This isn’t playful Lyncoln. This is a hunter looking at me like I’m his prey. I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
“What?” he asks confused.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not your target or your prey. Honestly, Frank has me more covered up now than he does some days,” I scold Lyncoln.
Frank bursts out laughing, and I glare at him. He’s supposed to be on my side. Frank shrugs, still smirking, as he gets back to work picking up.
Lyncoln is grinning when I turn back to him. “Regs, you just have the uncanny ability to make something so simple look so…” he pauses, looking me over, starting at the bottom of my gown and moving up as if searching for the right words. When he settles back to my eyes I know he has explained himself just fine. “Enticing? Exquisite? Ravishing? Take your pick.”
I roll my eyes again. “Men,” I say as if it explains everything.
He steps forward and I am again in awe of how he can move so relaxed, but always so aggressive. The deep purple of his shirt brings out both colors of his eyes amazingly. “Want to know my favorite part?” he asks softly.
I nod because I can’t seem to find words at the moment. How does he always smell so dang good anyway?
“This.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles just above my engagement ring. “Because it lets the world know you’re mine.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m pretty sure if anyone has predatory eyes right now, it’s me.
****
“Whaaaaat?!” I squeal and run like a child through a bunch of people to get to Vanessa.
“Hey!” she grins. She is wearing one of her gowns from the Culling and looking as beautiful as ever. Oh, how I have missed her.
“How the heck are you?” I give her a hug even though I know neither one of us are real huggy people.
“I’m good, back to the usual routine again and it feels great,” she smiles.
I know the Culling was never really her thing, but she wanted to do her best for her dad, who is in the military.
She quickly looks over at Marisol and Henry, whispering, “What in the world happened there?”
Ugh. “Long story.”
“Well you had my vote anyway, but you should hear what people are saying about those two. Anyone who knows Henry or the President knows that something is definitely up,” she says, shaking her head. “We aren’t buying it.”
I sigh with relief. “Good.”
“Vanessa, introduce me to your friend?” an older man with gray hair approaches us. He has the same nose and mouth as Vanessa.
“Dad, this is Reagan--I mean, Ms. Scott!” Vanessa corrects with a smile.
I playfully roll my eyes at her and smile reaching my hand out. “Please. You may call me Reagan.”
“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Scott. I have heard only wonderful things about you,” he smiles.
“Thank you, Mr. Holt,” I smile back. Good thing I know his last name from Vanessa.
“Well if it isn’t Major Holt,” Lyncoln says as he finally catches up, and much to my surprise, hugs the man.
I look to Vanessa surprised and she gestures with her hand. “Military buddies.” The way she says it is like that should explain everything. Still. I haven’t seen Lyncoln hug another person like this… other than his mom and me.
“The Major here oversaw military training back when I first had basics,” Lyncoln explains with a smile. I can tell by looking at him that he cares deeply for the man. As if the hug didn’t clue me in.
“I am so sorry,” I say to Vanessa’s father while shaking my head with a laugh. “I know he was quite the hothead. Still is on occasion.”
This makes everyone laugh and Mr. Holt says, “But look at him now. Wearing purple. Proposing. Kicking butt and taking names. I have never been prouder.” He smiles at Lyncoln and then chuckles once, like he can’t believe it.
“By the way, those radios really saved our asses in Detroit,” Lyncoln says and they start up their own little side conversation. I find it funny that Lyncoln only cusses when talking about military related things. Must be part of the camaraderie and brotherhood. I’m not sure I’ll really ever understand it, but I definitely respect it.
“What does your dad do?” I ask Vanessa. I know she wasn’t all that forthcoming about it during the Culling, but now that the Culling is over, I doubt she cares.
“He is the Head of Communications for the military now, the go-between for regular coms and military coms. And he still helps with training sometimes, too.” She shrugs.
“Wow. Why didn’t I know this until now?” I feel like a bad friend. Her dad sounds super important. Head of Communications for the military? Maybe I should have asked back when she was still in the Culling.
“Don’t feel bad. I make it a point to not tell people. I love everything about communications but my whole life people have thought I do it just because of my dad.”
The way she says it reminds me of Henry. I look his direction to see him with a bunch of Hadenfelt supporters. We lock eyes and even though he doesn’t smirk or blink or have any emotion on his face, I know what he is telling me. He hates this. I nod once to let him know I understand.
“So you’re engaged,” Vanessa says with a sly smile, changing the topic back to me.
“I am.” A blush warms my cheeks.
Why is getting engaged embarrassing? It isn’t a license to have sex, but sometimes the way people say it, I feel like it is. They look at me like I am about to fling myself at Lyncoln at any given moment.
Who am I kidding though? Sometimes I am.
“No regrets?” she asks. I know she’s referring to my choice between Lyncoln and Henry.
“None. Henry is still one of my best friends,” I explain, “but I love Lyncoln. Always have, I think. I just fought it.”
She laughs. “You were doomed before you even met him. Remember when we each picked a picture and you took his? I just knew you were screwed.” She looks at me suggestively, “No pun intended.”
I blush multiple different shades of red but ignore her suggestive comment as she laughs hard, finding joy in my discomfort. I shake my head, “Marcia just reminded me of that same thing!”
She asks me how Marcia is and who else I saw. We chat for a while about the tour. I leave out the part about Detroit even though I know she probably knows. As we finish up, I hear Lyncoln tell her dad that he will need him to help with ideas for a new training program he wants to implement on the heels of the Culling, pending we win.
“Absolutely. And you will win, son. You are definitely capable. You’ll do a fine job,” he tells him, slapping him on the shoulder.
Shortly after talking with Vanessa and her dad, we find Lyncoln’s mom, Wyatt, Lyncoln’s cousin Lilly, and her husband Jason.
“Congratulations. I could not be happier,” his mom says as she hugs us both. I know she is referring to our engagement.
“I’m just sorry you couldn’t be there.” I smile at her warmly.
This is my first time meeting his cousin and her husband, but I like them right away. I know Lilly is an only child also, which is very odd in this day and age. Lilly’s mom passed away when she was younger trying to give birth to her sister. She was raised by her dad’s mother, her grandmother, after her father turned to alcohol. She has always been close Audra.
Wyatt tugs on my hand impatiently.
“Hiya, Wyatt.” I smile at the dressed up little man who seems to be itching to take off at a sprint.
“Hey, are you going to be my cousin now too, since you are going to marry Lyncoln?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, I am. Is that okay with you?”
He jumps up excited and pumps his fist in the air once. “Yeah!” He looks toward Lilly, “Mom! Did you hear her? She’s going to be my cousin too! The next Madam President will be my cousin.”
“Jeez. What am I? Chopped Liver?” Lyncoln asks, pretending to be offended, and we all laugh.
It does m
y heart good to see Lyncoln surrounded by so many people that love him unconditionally. He doesn’t even know it either.
****
The meet and greet is crazy. People are everywhere, a lot of whom are dressed military men on guard. I have met some of these people before, but I’m again surprised at how large the population of Denver is. There has to be three times as many people as in Omaha. I have to remind myself that Denver is not just for the cabinet and President, there are military officers across different areas, there are just as many people in communications as there are in the military, and a whole army of soldiers. Not to mention the teachers, registrars, office workers, and more.
Dougall makes an announcement for all of us to head in to where we will be seated to eat, which is inside the very large coliseum where there will hopefully be enough tables and seats for all of us. Lyncoln and I are slowly walking in after speaking with a military officer Lyncoln knows.
As I look ahead of us, half paying attention to what they’re saying and half people watching, something catches my eye. I watch in horror as I see a young man shove a small boy out of the way. As the child falls to the ground, the man grumbles, “Watch it, kid!”
I hurry over to help the boy up, appalled at what I saw. I would go after the man who shoved him, but he is already lost in the crowd. Why be so rude to a small child? It’s a holiday, for Pete’s sake. And we are all, kids included, trying to cram into a huge building at the same time. A little grace wouldn’t be hard to give.
“Are you okay?” I ask the little mister. He can’t be older than four.
“I think so,” he says quietly with a nod although I know he must be a little scared. His eyes widen in surprise as he figures out who I am. “Are you Ms. Scott?”
I’m surprised he knows who I am, but considering we are somewhat celebrities with the interviews going on, I probably shouldn’t be. “I am. I’m so sorry that man shoved you. That wasn’t very nice of him.”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 15