A Political Affair

by Mary Whitney

  “Yeah. I bet.” He smirked as he gave Stephen a halfhearted handshake.

  Once everyone was comfortably seated, Elton stared at Stephen. “So what’s going on here?” The phrase was casual, but the delivery was one from a career prosecutor—cold and direct.

  Anne watched as Stephen’s body language changed. As if he was having a heart-to-heart with disgruntled constituents, he casually leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped. He was confident and engaged in his response.

  “Mr. Norwood, I suppose Anne has told you the basics, and I can understand why you’d be unhappy with our relationship. No parent would wish for this. And I know we’ve put you in a hard spot, politically. I’m sorry. I also wish I had met Anne under different circumstances. But despite the problematic situation we’re in, I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us.”

  “Humph.” Mark shook his head, as if he was listening to sheer stupidity. “The regret comes later, in case you didn’t know.”

  Stephen was undeterred; he sat upright and smiled at Anne as he took her hand. Meeting Elton’s stubborn glare, he spoke determinedly. “I don’t regret anything because I love her. And if she agrees, one day I hope to make her my wife. I understand I’ll have to earn your blessing.”

  “You two want to get married?” Mary Beth screeched.

  “Someday,” Anne replied in short, not wanting to dwell on the marriage issue.

  “Oh my God,” Mark mumbled, as he rubbed his eyes.

  “Will you knock it off? I don’t want to hear it from you,” Anne snapped. “You’re twenty-five years old, and the most serious relationship you’ve ever had was a summer fling in high school with Tammy Brewer, and all you did was sneak off to the barn every day.”

  Anne’s jab at Mark had a collateral effect besides shutting him up—Mary Beth had someone new to be angry with. She scowled at Mark, obviously furious her son had messed around with the pastor’s daughter in their barn.

  Elton quieted the room as he asked a critical question for everyone involved. “Who knows about you two?”

  “My immediate family—my mother, sisters, and my brother-in-law. They’re very supportive of Anne and me, especially my mother. Anne’s become a friend of the family, and most of the time we spend together my family is around.”

  Anne examined her parents’ reactions. Her mother nodded, as if she found some comfort in the respectability his family’s presence brought to their relationship. Her father’s expression remained impassive.

  “Greg knows, too,” Stephen said with a nod.

  “So that’s why he dropped you off,” her mother said. “I wondered why.”

  “Greg’s been very helpful. My mother thought it would be wise to tell him.” Stephen eased into the sofa and squeezed Anne’s hand. “Also, my family’s closest friend—who is like a father to me. He knows of us.”

  “Who’s that?” asked Elton, as he tapped the arm of his recliner.

  “Senator Grayson York . . . and his wife, Laura. A few weeks ago, they hosted my mother, Anne and me for dinner. Grayson was my father’s best friend. He’s my sister’s godfather and my closest colleague in the senate. He would never hurt us.”

  “I’ve always liked him,” Mary Beth admitted with a small smile. She glanced at Elton and shrugged. “He’s funny . . . and a moderate.”

  “Yes, Grayson is a wonderful person. He likes Anne a lot.” Stephen looked at Elton and said in a more sober voice, “Our family attorney is also aware of the situation.”

  Elton’s expression instantly changed. His eyes skewered Stephen, and Stephen answered his glare at once. “I think you’d understand it was wise to inform him. You shouldn’t take it as a sign of anything else. In order to protect everyone involved, including Anne, it’s better he not be caught flat-footed.”

  Elton took a deep breath. “At least you understand this is bound to come out. Politicians in your situation usually have so much hubris they delude themselves into thinking nothing will happen.”

  “Dad, haven’t you been listening?” Anne said, irritated by her father’s attitude. “This isn’t like that.”

  Stephen gave Anne a brief look, as if to warn her against fighting with her family. He turned to Elton. “Obviously, it’s better for everyone involved, including you and your family, if our relationship is kept quiet until after my reelection. That’s the desired outcome, but we’re taking precautions in case something does become public.”

  Quiet for a moment, Elton crossed his arms over his chest and reclined in his chair. “So your story is Anne became a friend of yours and your family. You two became involved, but you kept things private for obvious reasons.”

  “It’s not a story,” Anne muttered. “Those are facts.”

  “They are facts,” Stephen agreed. “And because it’s my personal life, I haven’t commented on it.”

  “We both know the personal is political here. You’ll have to comment.” Elton’s tone changed from conversation to interrogation. “What will you do when it comes out?”

  Without flinching, Stephen met Elton’s stare and spoke politician to politician. “I’ll address it publicly with my family and—hopefully—Anne at my side, though that’s her choice. I’m also certain Grayson would make a statement of support to corroborate the truth of things.”

  Anne imagined the scene, which in the past she’d envisioned with dread. Despite the terror of it, she knew she’d want to be there with him. She nodded. “I’d be there.”

  “And you’ll be the butt of a million jokes,” Mark said, this time with concern rather than sarcasm. “Your career will be over. Think about it.”

  “I told you I’m willing to take the risk.” She shook her head. “The negative publicity won’t last forever. It never does.”

  While he was the least political person in the family, Mark was the first to address what had been left unsaid. His voice saddened in disappointment with his sister. “And it could hurt Dad.”

  “Dad, you know I’m sorry, don’t you?” asked Anne with some sadness.

  Elton glanced at his wife and was silent for a moment. He sighed, in deep thought. “Politically, this is more of an annoyance than any harm to my career. I’ve been around too long. That said, it’s going to be a problem for some of my relationships within the party.” He looked at the heavens as he thought of how it might play out. “I’m going to hear about it.”

  “What will you say? What will you do?” asked Anne, scared to hear the answer.

  “I’ll say I love and support my daughter, but she’s an adult who makes her own decisions. This was a decision I don’t agree with.” He looked at his wife to confirm his statement. “That will be the only thing said publicly by the family.”

  “I understand, and I appreciate it,” Stephen said with sincerity. “Given the situation, I wouldn’t expect any more from you.”

  “And none of you will tell anyone, regardless of what happens, right?” Anne looked at each member of her family to confirm their answers.

  “That’s right,” Mary Beth said with a grim smile. “It’s best for everyone involved.”

  As Mary Beth finished speaking, the phone at Mark’s side rang. He picked it up and curtly answered, “Norwood residence.” Seconds later, he sputtered in surprise, “Oh. Hello . . . Mrs. McEvoy. No, this isn’t Elton. I’m Mark Norwood, Anne’s brother.”

  Elton and Mary Beth looked at one another in astonishment. Anne smiled at Stephen and whispered close to his ear. “Did you know she’d call?”

  “Not at all. I only told her this morning I’d be here today.” He smiled. “She’s much smarter than I am.”

  Another moment passed and Mark said into the phone, “It would be nice to meet you, also.” He glanced up at Mary Beth and pointed to the receiver. “Let me get my mother for you.”

  Mary Beth took the call and answered in a chipper voice, while still acknowledging the social stature of the woman on the other line. “Hello, Mrs. McEvoy. Thank you
so much for calling. I truly appreciate it.” She listened for a moment and said, “Well, thank you, Lillian. You’re really very kind to call.” As the two women spoke, Mary Beth left in search of a private room.

  Elton’s expression and demeanor finally changed. The concern and anger vanished for a moment as he chuckled at his wife talking with Lillian McEvoy. He smiled at his daughter. “Oh, Anne . . .”

  It was midmorning the following day when Anne joined the extended McEvoy family at their mansion off Cheeseman Park in Denver. The visit was initially social, but when Greg arrived it turned into a campaign meeting.

  The entire family sat around the giant dining room table. Lillian had made tea and coffee for everyone, with shortbread cookies to tide them over until lunch. She called the meeting to order. “Well, the news is out now. Dan Langford has raised over a million dollars in the last quarter. That’s a significant amount of money for someone like him. Before things get hairy, I want a family consensus on financing the campaign with family money. Personally, I’d rather not, but I suggest we do if it becomes necessary. Patty agrees.”

  Patty was firm. “I think it’s best, though we need to handle it carefully.”

  “We don’t want to appear to be ‘buying’ a Senate seat to keep it in the McEvoy name,” remarked Megan. “Langford would have a field day with that in the media.”

  “And I don’t want it to appear that we don’t have supporters for the campaign, because we do. At the moment, fundraising isn’t an issue,” said Stephen.

  “But these days people expect wealthy candidates to contribute to their own campaign,” Anne said with a shrug. She didn’t understand why they were worried about appearances. Everyone knew the McEvoys were rich.

  “It’s the amount that’s the issue . . . and timing.” Greg shook his head. “I would wait until the last possible minute and contribute the minimum amount.”

  Patty concluded the discussion. “Mom, I think we’re all in agreement.”

  “If it’s settled, then let’s talk about how we message this—” Megan’s ringing phone stopped her train of thought, and after she read the caller’s name, she frowned. “Washington Post. I need to take it. I’ll be right back. They’re probably already looking for a quote on Dan’s numbers.”

  Megan was out of the room for only a few minutes. When she returned, her face was grim. “Walter Smith has set up an independent expenditure campaign to defeat Stephen. What do you want to say?”

  Stephen collected his thoughts. Walter Smith was public enemy number one for Democrats. Any comment from Stephen about Walter needed to be pitch perfect.

  Patty jumped in. “No. I’m the campaign manager. This is entirely political. I’m the appropriate messenger here, not Stephen.”

  Stephen nodded. “She’s right.” He chuckled in admiration of his fearless sister as she scribbled on a notepad. “Let’s see what Patty has to say.”

  Handing a piece of paper to Megan, Patty said, “Here. Read it to him.”

  Megan took the call off hold and said, “Stu. Hi. This is from Patty McEvoy, Senator McEvoy’s campaign manager.”

  She paused a moment before relaying Patty’s statement. “Quote: ‘Bring it on. The McEvoy family has never been afraid of a fight.’ End quote.” Waiting a few seconds, she asked, “You got that?”

  Late in January, Stephen turned off the flashlight to darken the tent as Anne laughed inside their joined sleeping bags. She stripped down to her underwear and stowed her clothes at the bottom of the bag to keep them warm during the cold West Virginia night.

  “Okay,” she said, snuggling down into the bag. “You promised to keep me warm if I went on this ridiculous expedition with you. We could be comfortably in your bed back at the cabin.”

  “Just give me a second, and I’ll warm you up. I want to get out of my clothes, too.”

  The pitch black rendered Anne blind, but she heard him lower the zipper so he could join her. As he stashed his clothes at the bag’s foot, she reached out and touched his long underwear.

  “One good thing about the middle of nowhere is we don’t have to worry about being too loud.” She giggled.

  “If you keep teasing me, I promise I’ll be very, very loud.” He kissed his way behind her ear, leaving a trail of tickles she felt everywhere.

  “Really?” She smiled into the darkness and slipped her hand into his fly.

  The next morning at dawn, Worthington Clements and his dog were out for their morning constitutional, snowshoeing around his property. The snow did little to muffle the sounds of enthusiastic sex coming from the red tent a hundred yards away. Initially, the elderly gentleman rolled his eyes in disgust, but he caught himself quickly. He thought of his younger days and smiled. “Aw, hell. You’re just jealous,” he mumbled aloud.

  When he came closer, his booming accent, born of the hollows of West Virginia, overrode the laughter coming from the tent. “I can hear you’re enjoying yourselves in there, but I’d like to inform you that unless your name is Clements or McEvoy, you’re trespassing. Now, I know it’s not Clements because I have no living relatives and no heirs. And I seriously doubt you’re a McEvoy.”

  Inside the tent, Anne’s wide eyes stared in shock at Stephen, who lay on top of her. Not two minutes before, he had yelled her name in orgasm. Closing his eyes, Stephen smiled. When he opened them, his voice was loud. “Actually, Judge Clements, it is a McEvoy.”

  “Judge? A local judge?” she whispered in panic.

  “Federal,” he murmured.

  She closed her eyes and threw an arm over her face.

  “Stevie? Is that you? What are you doing out here?” the judge asked.

  Stephen donned his shirt, propped himself on his elbows, and zipped open the door of the tent enough so he could peer outside. Judge Clements, a dear family friend, poked his head into the tent’s rain-fly; the man’s blatant curiosity brought a smile to Stephen’s face.

  “Morning, Judge. I’m sorry. I must’ve crossed over onto your property.”

  Judge Clements laughed. “Well, it’s good to see you, son. Are you here alone?”

  Stephen caught the hint. The judge knew full well he wasn’t alone, but as a southern gentleman, he asked for the lady’s benefit. Stephen grinned.

  “No. I have a friend with me.” He turned to Anne, who’d raised her arm only enough to glower in complete disbelief. “Anne, I’d like to introduce you to Judge Worthington Clements.”

  Glaring at him, she grabbed her own shirt. Once clothed, she rested on her elbows as Stephen further unzipped the tent. “Judge Clements, please meet Anne Norwood. She’s a very good friend of mine and my family.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norwood.” The judge grinned as she shyly peeked out and waved.

  “Good morning, Judge Clements.” The judge’s dog pushed his nose in between his owner’s legs and Anne smiled. “I see you’re not alone either. Your dog is pretty.”

  “This is Buster. He’s a mutt just like me.” He played with the dog’s ears. “Why don’t you two strike your camp and head over to the house? I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “Oh, Judge, that’s very kind,” said Stephen with a glance at Anne. “But—”

  “Please,” the judge pressed. “Breakfast is the one thing I know how to cook well.”

  Well-mannered Anne nodded to Stephen, and he smiled. “Then we’d be honored, Judge. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes or so.”

  When the judge went on his way, Stephen zipped the tent door. He turned back to Anne, though she wasn’t to be seen. Her body was hidden in the bag as her voice filled the tent. “I. Am. Mortified.”

  After they arrived at the judge’s cozy lodge, Anne straightaway took him up on the offer of his guest bed and bath. Given her nervousness, Stephen guessed she was as interested in the opportunity to escape from further embarrassment as she was in the hot shower.

  While he assembled the makings of steak and eggs, the judge struck up a conversation. “So, Stevie, I
haven’t seen you up here for a while now. Is the busy life of a senator keeping you away?”

  Stephen leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table. “In part.”

  Judge Clements nodded silently as he seasoned the steaks. “And Anne? Who is she?” he asked, his attention remaining focused on the food.

  “She’s special.” Stephen smiled, but his tone had a serious edge.

  The judge met Stephen’s eyes and returned the smile. “Well, that’s obvious.”

  Worried Judge Clements was jumping to all the wrong conclusions about Anne, Stephen rallied behind her. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking, Judge. Anne is different. She—”

  “Of course, she’s different, Stevie. All evidence points to that.” He threw two steaks in a cast-iron skillet and turned to Stephen. “I’ve never seen you hike out here with anyone besides your father—let alone go camping with a woman. I’m a confirmed bachelor with eighty-six years to prove it. I was pretty certain you’d be a lifelong bachelor as well. I know if you’re bringing a woman into a part of your life which has always been solitary, she’s very special to you.”

  “You’re right.” He smiled.

  “She’s lovely, and she’s got to be smart to hold your interest.” The judge turned his attention again to the steaks. “She’s a little young, though. Correct?”

  “Correct.” Stephen took a drink of strong coffee before he elaborated. “And I should tell you, our relationship isn’t public.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s an intern in my office at the moment.” He said it matter-of-factly and trusted the judge to keep quiet until he told him otherwise.

  Judge Clements raised his eyebrows to the point of crinkling every bit of wrinkled skin on his forehead. “But you said she’s a friend of the family. I’m guessing Lillian knows? What does she think of all this?”

  “I’d say she’s cautiously accepting—more so every day.” Stephen nodded. “It hasn’t been long, but Anne has become part of our family.”

  Without skipping a beat, the judge smiled again. “Well, if that’s so, I also approve.”