America the Beautiful

by Laura Hayden

  Trainor tapped the copy of the note with the pencil. “A man will do a great deal to win the favor of a woman he loves . . . or at least lusts after.”

  “And a betrayed woman never forgets . . . ,” Nick added darkly. “If Emily is manipulating Gilroy for any reason, it’s because she still hates me and has no qualms against using him. He was a tool in Connie’s hands. How hard would it be to lead him astray again?” A mixture of emotions reflected in his face—regret, confusion, and anger. “You know . . . Emily never forgave me for our marital problems. I guess ‘going over to the enemy’ and joining Talbot was the last straw for her.”

  Trainor picked up on Nick’s train of thought. “So you think it’s possible she used the man’s infatuation against him and sent him to New Hampshire to kill you?”

  Nick nodded and Kate shook her head.

  “No way,” she said with a building sense of resolution. “This is all crazy talk. Even if I could possibly accept that my best friend might have—in a moment of weakness—sent me that note in hopes of stirring up some controversy, I can tell you categorically that she did not conspire with Gilroy. She didn’t meet with him, play on his affections or whatever, and send him off with orders to shoot Nick.”

  “Why? Why can’t you believe she hates me enough to do something like that?”

  “Three reasons.” Kate held up her forefinger. “One, because the man was completely inept with guns. Wes will corroborate that. If Emily were to send in a shooter, I guarantee he would have been an expert marksman and would have gotten his target. If Emily sent somebody after you, Nick, you’d be dead. And no one else would have known it was a setup and no one else would have been hurt. And two, Pete Shaiyne is smart enough to figure out how to get the evidence without leaving any trail leading back to him.”

  “And three?”

  She fought to control her rising anger. Help me, dear Lord. Make me an instrument of your peace here. I don’t want to lose it now. She spoke in a low voice. “Nick, I realize what you’re doing. Trying to use rumor, conjecture, and maybe even some pure lies to put a wedge between me and Emily.”

  Kate stood up, her arms crossed. “Sorry, boys, it didn’t work.” She shot Trainor her coldest, most contemptuous glare. “If I see or hear from you again, I’ll be talking to your superiors about this little meeting. And you . . .” She turned to Nick, fighting to keep her indignation from turning into a righteous fury.

  “If you really have found God, then you need to ask his forgiveness for this stunt. God knows, my faith says I should forgive you, but I can’t find it in me right now. For both of our sakes, don’t you ever call me again.”

  Kate was lucky she hadn’t been pulled over for speeding on the way home. Twice, she looked down at the speedometer to discover she was pushing ninety. It wasn’t like her to let her emotions overrule her common sense.

  No, that was something Emily was more apt to do.

  Kate’s stomach flared and she almost pulled off to the shoulder of the road to throw up. Once she reached home, emotionally and physically drained, she dragged herself inside, crawled into bed, and gave herself permission to have a good cry.

  But she had no tears.

  All she had were a thousand questions running through her mind, threatening to keep her awake all night.

  Could Emily have gotten so mad at Nick, so upset by his involvement with Talbot’s campaign, that she’d take such a drastic action to have him killed? It was a complicated question that had to be broken down into its component parts.

  Did Emily hate Nick?

  Yes.

  Did Emily hate Nick enough to want to kill him?

  Maybe.

  Did Emily hate Nick enough to arrange to kill him?

  No. Emily’s vindictive streak was such that she’d much prefer watching him live in fear of death than watch him actually die.

  Kate grabbed that small thread of logic spun from her faith in her friend and held on for dear life. Then she reached out to find other threads of logic and braided them together to give her a stronger lifeline.

  Emily wouldn’t have made Nick a martyr.

  She wouldn’t have cut a sensitive deal with an unstable person.

  She wouldn’t have sent a threatening note to scare her best friend.

  Divide and conquer were tools of desperation. And since Emily wasn’t desperate, the person behind this just might be Talbot via his henchmen Nick Beaudry and Jim Trainor.

  And the flicker of something for Nick that hid in her heart? It was no more than Christian concern for another human being. Nothing more than that.

  Kate allowed herself a small smile as she decided that this had been nothing more than a test of her faith in Emily.

  And she passed.

  EARLY MOMENTUM in the primary race had been the first critical goal of their campaign plans. The overwhelming success of Tsunami Tuesday took that early momentum and turned Emily into a force to be reckoned with. In fact, their early success caused the remaining primaries to become Benton landslides. True to Emily’s prediction, Bochner had stepped out of the race the morning after his distant second-place finish on Tsunami Tuesday and only two mostly inconsequential candidates remained, neither of them holding more than a couple dozen delegate votes each.

  Working under the radar, Kate started the machinery to initiate private talks with Bochner by first contacting his campaign manager, Sheila McIntosh, feeling her out about the vice presidential slot. They’d met several years ago and had a basically congenial professional-to-professional relationship. Kate was encouraged by her honesty and the answers she relayed to some very tough questions asked of her about her boss.

  In Kate’s opinion, Bochner and McIntosh had played it smart by playing it clean. There would be no unfortunate insinuations to be swept under the rug and no private retractions necessary in order to bring Emily and Bochner into the same room. The same could be said about Emily and Kate—they had found no need to use what little dirt they’d turned up against the man. Life was always easier if you started with a clean playing field.

  And Kate’s resolve to conduct her political life in accordance with her personal values hadn’t been tested again as it had early in the primary cycle, for which she was profoundly grateful.

  Best of all, Bochner would give the ticket a grounding of Midwest sensibilities. It was the only region in which Emily lacked a personal or familial presence. Her Virginia upbringing gave her a theoretical foothold in the South, even if she didn’t personify a true Southerner. Then there was the fame or, in some cases, infamy associated with the Benton family name both in the Northeastern states and on the West Coast. All she lacked was a strong relationship with mid-America.

  But a decidedly male vice president born and raised in the Heartland, his Chicago-born academician wife, and his family of three picture-perfect male moppets (and one less photogenic and somewhat rebellious teenage son) would help sway the holdouts who still found gender a big roadblock to stumble over or around. Add to all that Bochner’s four-year stint in the army and he looked like the perfect running mate on paper and, in Kate’s estimation, in person as well.

  After several calls, first from one manager to the other, then one candidate to the other, they set a date for a face-to-face meeting.

  When they finally met, Emily held out her hand first and Bochner accepted and shook it warmly. “It’s so nice to have a chance to talk without microphones being shoved in our faces,” she said.

  “What’s the old joke?” Bochner flipped up the collar of his sports jacket. “Please step closer and talk into my lapel?”

  His bit of humor helped break the ice, and Kate watched as Emily relaxed a bit. At one time, Bochner had been known as the boy wonder of the House, thanks to his youthful face and eagerness in facing his duty to his country in the political arena as well as earlier in a uniformed capacity. In the intervening years, he’d matured in looks and tempered his enthusiasm without losing it completely. His constituents, as well as
the press, described him as a dedicated Everyman.

  Kate excused herself to allow the two to talk alone, something Emily had insisted on and with which Kate had readily agreed. The day’s discussions would be more philosophical and theoretical ones. No immediate offer would be made as a result of their confab. No promises made. Bochner also knew he wasn’t the only person under consideration as the running mate. Emily had meetings arranged with three other potential vice presidential candidates.

  But Kate had her money on Bochner. There was just something about the man she respected—his style, his grace, his deeply felt faith. She thought he brought qualities to a Benton/Bochner ticket that would make it even more viable against a Talbot/Whomever one.

  Three hours later, Emily emerged, shook hands with Bochner once more, and they went their separate ways.

  Kate waited for Emily to report, but she said nothing. Finally Kate stuck her head in Emily’s office and prompted with a “Well?”

  “I’m not sure.” Emily wore her inscrutable look, which meant getting details from her would be like getting state secrets from a closemouthed spy.

  “Politics, personality, or what?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it. Let me think for a while—digest everything that was said.”

  “Is he at least a possibility?”

  “Yes, he’s still in the running.”

  Kate didn’t pry any further. Instead she pulled out the master calendar to brief Emily on her updated travel schedule.

  Kate had set up an ambitious pattern of travel for the next few months until the convention was held in Denver in August. Emily’s rotation included two weeks on the road, talking, visiting, and otherwise speaking directly to the people, then back to Virginia for a couple of days to recharge her batteries and reassess their plans; and then she’d strike out again. Kate spent part of the time on the road with Emily but just as much time, if not more, holding down the fort at the main headquarters and making plans for the next volley of speaking engagements.

  The tone of their campaigning had changed once Emily’s candidacy was all but official. Now she had new responsibilities to her party and its leadership and, because of that, spent a lot of time behind closed doors talking international and domestic policies with higher-up party officials. Many of the cities they chose to visit were because Emily needed to have a closed-door meeting with an organization or group headquartered there. In addition, funds still needed to be raised, and that meant organizing and attending various “Benton for President” galas in major metropolitan areas.

  By the end of April, they’d raised another $34 million. By the end of May, they’d reduced the number of days in the air or on the road between locations, spending more concentrated time in a specific area—staying for days rather than hours in one general part of a state. During this time, they had more meetings with Burl Bochner as well as one other potential vice president. Two earlier contenders had removed themselves from consideration for reasons they didn’t disclose.

  Their loss.

  July was a patriotic blur, tinged in red, white, and blue. It wasn’t until the end of the month that Emily finally made her decision of a running mate. She’d used Kate as a sounding board initially, discussing each candidate’s attributes, their shortcomings, their influence, their political agendas, what philosophies meshed with hers and what didn’t, which personalities she respected and which qualities she could tolerate.

  Which ones she couldn’t stand . . .

  When the discussions petered out, Kate knew Emily had made her decision. Kate’s money was still on Burl Bochner, but Emily was keeping her decision close to the vest.

  August was more of the same. Kate couldn’t allow herself to call it the “grind” because the intensity was ramping up, but in some ways, it was just more of the same—harder, faster, more concentrated—travel, speaking engagements, and fund-raising.

  All work and very little play.

  Plus the party convention loomed ahead like some giant behemoth. Their initial campaign tactic had been to keep the gender issue on the back burner, not ignoring it by any means but presenting it as simply one of the qualities this worthy candidate happened to possess. There had been female candidates for president before and there would be again.

  But now they were treading in—for the lack of a better word—virgin territory with Emily about to be named the first female, party-nominated presidential candidate. Gender would jump to the front burner, especially with the unprecedented selection of a female convention chair and female cochairs.

  It didn’t help that one of the more irreverent online news sites came up with a lead story headlined, “Political Chastity Belt at the Convention—All Women, Locked Up Tight. No Men Need Apply.” Their tabloid-style story insisted that Emily was considering only fellow females as her running mate. More serious news agencies had jumped on the story and it had started a fair amount of debate as to whom she would choose—a man or a woman.

  The media was betting female.

  Kate figured the smart money should know better.

  In reality, Kate knew Emily hadn’t interviewed or otherwise talked with any women for the job. When asked, Emily had said, “I’m gearing up to win the election, not make a statement on any amendment, equal rights or otherwise.”

  Emily had intended to wait until the morning after being crowned as the party candidate to name her choice for vice president, but the pressure and burden of travel reached such a point that she and Kate decided that an official running mate could take up some of the slack for them, allowing the Benton campaign to literally be in two places at once.

  So, on August 5, Emily climbed the steps of the beautifully recreated Governor’s Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, and spoke to the crowd and the cameras assembled.

  “Thank you for coming. I appreciate having you with me as we take a new step on this journey together.”

  She indicated the large historical building looming behind her. “Colonial Williamsburg. More than two hundred years ago, the pursuit of freedom, independence, and equality fueled a movement that continues to influence the world today. People like Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, and George Washington played major roles in defining the true meaning of freedom and liberty; and many others have helped build this great nation by going about their everyday lives. It’s important to have our history come alive in a place like this.”

  Her smile bore just the right amount of nostalgia. “I loved coming here as a child. One day when I was eight years old, I told my father that I wanted to live in the Governor’s Palace someday. He had to break it to me that this wasn’t where the governor of Virginia actually lived.”

  There was polite laughter in response.

  “As you know, I did end up spending four years in the executive mansion as the governor of Virginia, so I guess I did fulfill that childhood dream in a way. But—” she thumbed over her shoulder at the house behind her—“it would have been cool to have lived here, don’t you think?”

  The laughter increased in intensity.

  “But we aren’t here to talk about the goals I’ve set and fulfilled. I’m here to discuss the aspirations I’m still striving to reach. This morning I’ve had the privilege to speak with several courageous, talented patriots who, at my request, have discussed at length the qualities and desires they possess to become my running mate and candidate for vice president of the United States of America.”

  The camera flashes increased as the press realized this was the speech they’d been waiting on for at least three weeks since rumors started running rampant about her possible running mate.

  “Each of the individuals with whom I’ve spoken could effectively fulfill this role, and all of them have the qualities to lead our country in their own right. However, I can choose but one person to be my running mate.”

  The murmurs in the crowd included whispered speculations, ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime.

  “The person I’ve chosen
understands American values and has defended those values here and abroad in service to his country.”

  Kate watched as the crowd’s speculations narrowed to two politicians whose military service had been an important part of their biographies.

  “He returned from a military career to become a champion for the very people whose freedom he fought to protect. He’s a family man whose character, experiences, and talents have prepared him well for leadership.

  “I’m pleased to announce that, with your approval, my candidate for vice president of the United States of America will be Senator Burl Bochner from Missouri.”

  The crowd erupted in applause, indicating their enthusiastic approval of her selection.

  Kate watched from the sidelines as Emily continued praising Bochner in public, something she hadn’t really done much in private. Behind closed doors, he simply was a means to an end. If she wanted the presidency, she needed a second who possessed the elements that America thought she needed and didn’t have. And that included a nuclear family and testosterone. Bochner appeared ready to throw his lot in with Emily’s, to take the right stances, make the right remarks, shake the right hands, but to never, ever steal the spotlight from the candidate herself.

  As long as Senator Bochner remembered he was second in command, second in importance, played second fiddle in all other areas to Emily, he’d do just fine indeed.

  Welcome to my world, Kate thought. Hold on, because it can be a bumpy ride.

  Burl Bochner came to their campaign with a complete staff of his own, people who had worked with the same sort of tireless dedication as the Benton staff to make their candidate outshine the competition. But now their mission was different; Bochner was no longer the star quarterback but a tight end who might be asked to run or catch, depending on how Emily called the plays.

  How Emily called the plays. . . .

  The mission of his core staff was no longer how to spotlight Burl as a single person but how to present what strength he brought as part of the Benton team. However, no matter how much of a valued player Burl Bochner might become, it would remain the Benton team who shaped the campaign. One of Burl’s first duties was to learn that it was the party line he needed to espouse—Emily’s interpretation of it and not necessarily his own.