“Skeletons?”
“Yeah, any skeletons in the closet? Anything you didn’t put in here.” He thumped the folder. “Your life story is squeaky-clean. No one is this good!”
Bill didn’t respond immediately, thinking about Katherine. He had heard nothing from her, about her, since he flew home from New York. For a week after reaching Hamilton, he had jumped every time someone knocked at the door or a car stopped outside on the street. She had not gone to the police, though. Probably would never say a word to anyone. Would marry Steven Richardson and forget it all.
“Well? Anything?”
“No skeletons.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what we’re against. Give it some thought. Something minor, even, a DUI arrest with the charges dropped mysteriously, a tax return that was not filed. Remember the judge who didn’t make social security payments for his maid?”
“Nothing like that,” Bill laughed. “I’ll think about it.” Katherine wouldn’t be a problem, he surmised.
“You’re not married.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are you gay?”
“What? No!”
“Sleeping around?”
“No.” A truck whizzed past, doing at least ninety. Bill thought about Marci. “Well, I’m not a saint.”
“Any of them angry at you?”
“Not as far as I know. Most don’t know my real name.”
Chris was quiet. “That might not be good. Might see your picture in the newspaper, appear suddenly.” He straightened the papers and pushed them into a large brown envelope. “Any prospects for marriage?”
Bill bit his bottom lip, not sure how to respond. The truthful answer was no, but if it was important…
“Marriage isn’t essential, but you will be running a ‘family-values’ campaign. Some will think it odd that a candidate who is devoted to the joys of family life doesn’t have a family. So, any prospects?”
Bill considered how he might respond. He could say no, but Chris might hear of his frequent claim that he would marry Katherine. A denial would compromise his credibility with Chris. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to mention the rumor. Katherine would never know.
“If you spend any time in Hamilton,” Bill hoped that Chris would spend little, if any, time in Hamilton, “you will hear that I’m going to marry Katherine Jackson. I’ve known her since high school, dated her occasionally, people assume we’ll be married, but, well, I don’t know.”
“Katherine Jackson.” Chris made a note.
“You might have met her father, Tom Jackson.”
“Certainly. I’ve met Tom Jackson. Met his daughter too, but Katherine doesn’t sound familiar.”
“You likely met the younger daughter, Mary. Katherine has been away at school. Works in New York now.”
“Mary Jackson, that sounds right.”
They were on a bridge and Chris turned, looking at the river below. “I grew up near a river like that, Bill. Used to spend most of the summer on the water, swimming, fishing, boating.” They spied two men in kayaks, floating slowly. “Look at those guys. Must be freezing out there today.” He waved to the two men as the car rumbled past. “Ever been in a kayak, Bill?”
Bill shook his head. “Never. They are sort of like canoes, though, aren’t they?”
“Similar, but more stable.”
“I canoe,” Bill said. “I was in a race a couple of months back. It was no contest.”
“I’d love to be out there now,” Chris said.
There was a bump as the bridge ended. Bill’s hand flew up and his coffee soaked his right leg. He started to swear, but Chris laughed.
“Good thing we’re not on the way to give a speech,” he said. “That happened to me once. The guy with me—my candidate—didn’t have a change of clothes, so we had to stop to buy a new pair of pants.” He shook his head. “The stories I could tell you about campaigns.”
Chris glanced down at his note.
“So, marriage to Katherine Jackson, is it a possibility? I mean, a wedding, a beautiful bride.” He glanced at Bill. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Without question.”
“Good.” Chris nodded. “What does Katherine do in New York? An attorney like her father?”
“No, she’s a doctor. Works in,” Bill paused, afraid of what Chris might think, “a hospital ER.”
“That’s great!”
Bill couldn’t believe the excitement in Chris’s voice. “It is?”
“Certainly! Works with the underclass, helps the most vulnerable, knows the common man. It’ll sell in a campaign.”
Bill toyed with the idea of marrying Katherine.
Am I crazy?
Surely, that wasn’t even a remote possibility. She would go wild, if she’d even listen to him. Bill cast about for a way to change the subject. “I will give it some thought.”
Chris started to laugh.
“About six years ago, I was working with Jonathon Bull, Congressman Bull now. He was unmarried when he announced, and it was causing us all sorts of problems. His opponent paraded his pregnant wife before the voters, floated rumors about Jonathon. According to one, he was gay, according to another, he had a mistress and they had a child.” Chris turned toward Bill.
“Jonathon had a friend, a girl he’d known for years. They had fooled around from time to time, sort of like you and Katherine.”
Fooled around? Right.
“Well, he called her up one night and proposed marriage. He agreed to buy her a big house, give her a big allowance, let her continue to work—she was a doctor, too, as I recall—as long as she made it to campaign events.”
“Tied himself down in order to be elected?”
“You have to really want public office if you want to go to Congress, Bill, the fire in the stomach and all. Besides, it didn’t tie him down.” Chris smirked. “He moved to DC, she stayed home, no one asked questions. Signed premarital agreements just in case.”
“What happened?”
“Still married. She had a baby last fall. It might even be his. There is a lot more to marriage than romance.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting that you do anything like Bull did. Not at all. Your district is very different from his, and I don’t expect your marital status to be an issue. Still, should something develop, it would only be a plus for us.”
***
Steven fetched his car from the garage where it sat, not driven most of the time. He seldom needed it in New York. He had a car because, well, he’d had a car since he was fifteen, and he couldn’t imagine living without one. It was useful at times like this.
As Steven drove across the Brooklyn Bridge, he pulled out the directions to Martine’s house. He wouldn’t think about Katie, he decided. I’ll enjoy dinner—enjoy the day.
He located Martine’s apartment without difficulty. He had no more than accepted the offer of a glass of wine from her husband, Philippe, and settled himself into an overstuffed chair when Martine appeared, holding a photograph of a pretty, dark-haired woman. She held it out to Steven.
“Her name is Susanne. She works with our delegation to the United Nations. A wonderful person. You will love her.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Martine. It’s nice to see you, too,” Steven replied.
He and Philippe both laughed.
“She has a one-track mind, Steven. Romance, it’s always romance. You’ll have to excuse her.”
Martine glared at Philippe. “I’ve never known you to object in private to the track my mind takes. In any case, Steven has found that Katie Jackson is a…a…I don’t know the word in English, but she is not for him. He needs a new friend.” She put her hand on Philippe’s arm. “I tell him that French women make the best lovers. You disagree?”
“Not at all, my love.” Philippe patted her hand.
“Susanne will be good for you, Steven. You will soon forget Katie Jackson.”
Steven hesitated. “You know that I�
��ll be going home to Atlanta for Christmas. After that, I’ll go to England, a week of vacation, the lecture series, the opening of their exhibit. In any case, I’ll be gone a month. I won’t be back before the first of February. Maybe I will see her when I’m back in New York.”
Martine gave him a big smile.
“You’ve invited her to dinner, haven’t you?” Steven glared at her.
“I’ve invited many people for dinner, Steven. That is traditional, right? A big event, not only three or four?”
***
Katherine thought about the bartender and his family as she rode the subway across town. Her entire body was tense and she felt angry. She imagined crossing the street to confront the man, and she rehearsed what she might have said to him in front of his family. She imagined the look of shame that would cross his face, his attempt to apologize, his wife’s reaction, the shock and anger that his wife would feel.
Finally, she pushed those thoughts away. Not today, she told herself. She left the subway an exit early and walked through the almost-empty streets. The cold air helped her to clear her mind, and she turned her thoughts back to the parade.
She smiled when she recalled one of the balloons, a massive snowman, careening from side to side as the wind caught it, almost crashing into the building across the street. She realized that she had not smiled in weeks, not at a television program, not at Becky’s puns, not at the jokes that passed around the ER. The parade had been terrific, she decided, even better than she’d expected.
Reaching her apartment, she called home. “Hi, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, Katherine. What are you doing today?”
“I just got home. I saw the Macy’s parade live this year.”
“I know you enjoyed that. Will I hear tomorrow that you and Dr. Richardson were spotted on television again?”
“No, Dad, you won’t hear that,” she snapped.
There was a brief silence on the line. “I was just teasing, Katherine. What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m fine. I know you were teasing. Steven and I, well, we’re not really seeing each other anymore.” She sank onto the sofa.
“I’m sorry. Anything I can help with?”
“I don’t think so, thanks.” Katherine blinked and wiped away a tear. It was the first time she had told someone that she and Steven were no longer dating. Saying it aloud made it seem so real, so final.
She gave her head a shake. “What’s Mom up to?”
“Getting dressed for dinner. We’re going to Emma’s. You’re lucky to have reached me. She was on the line for over an hour, talking with Mrs. Moore.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Something about the little Dawson girl.”
“Dad, the ‘little Dawson girl’ is my age.”
“I guess she is.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t paying attention, but it’s surely something to do with a man.”
“Emily Dawson left Hamilton the same time I did. She hasn’t lived there in a decade.”
“I know.” Her father sighed. “But do you think that makes a difference? You know how they gossip!”
“I know, Dad, I know,” she said quietly. “Anyway, have a nice dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”
***
Bill dropped his bag to the floor and stretched. They had driven for over seven hours, including a stop for lunch. They’d had to search for a restaurant. Not much was open on Thanksgiving Day, but his mid-day meal at a Waffle House had been good, if not traditional.
He was supposed to be at his mother’s house for Thanksgiving, but he had to set priorities. In any case, his sisters were in town, one from DC, one from Seattle. He would call them later. The boot camp would start tomorrow at noon, and he did not want to miss even an hour. He was glad that they had decided to come today, rather than tomorrow. That would have been one early start.
The trip had been tiring, but he and Chris had become better acquainted, and that was good. Bill had originally targeted the state legislature for next year, but their Congressman was calling it quits now, after fourteen years. The only announced candidate was rather liberal, and the opportunity was too good to take a pass.
Chris specialized in helping “new talent” run their campaigns. He only worked with conservative candidates, and the family-values theme was Chris’s idea. Two of Bill’s supporters were paying his salary under the table.
Chris had questioned him about almost everything he had ever done, from high school forward, clubs he had joined, grades in school, his friends, his girlfriends, his law practice, his family. He’d said it was essential to know everything so that they could emphasize his strengths and downplay his weaknesses.
He had cited Jonathon Bull again, as an example—before the campaign, he’d been afraid to speak in public. On the high school debate team, he’d had panic attacks before each debate.
“Can you imagine?” Chris had said with a chuckle. “And he wanted to run for office. He’s a lot better now, but I knew that we had to really control his public appearances. I mean, debates were off the table. On the other hand, he wrote very well, very convincingly. Several OP ED pieces prepared the ground for his candidacy.”
Chris had waved a finger toward Bill. “We don’t want surprises. Good or bad. We want to be in control.”
Bill thought about Katherine. Might she be willing to marry him?
He laughed at that. He’d certainly taken care of that last month. She likely wouldn’t even see him, definitely wouldn’t listen to any harebrained marriage proposal. She might even become angry enough to have him charged.
On the other hand, if he could induce her to listen, if he could present the idea in just the right way. He imagined what he might say.
It would be an opportunity for you to move home, be near your family. You can join an established medical practice, work with Dr. Nelson, do pro bono work for the poor. I’m the only one who will marry you now. You can have the children you want, a marriage with no strings attached, a place in Hamilton society, the kind of life you have always wanted—and perpetual silence.
Well, she might be receptive. If she still felt shame at what had happened, it might be a way out for her. Bill picked up his coat and headed out. He would call her mother, just to check on her.
Now, where might I find some excitement?
***
Susanne was as beautiful as her picture and as nice as Martine had said she would be. They sat next to each other at dinner, and talked for some time afterwards. She was really bright, Steven had thought. Good sense of humor.
He drove her home, and the moment he walked through his front door the telephone rang.
“You will call her, Steven? When you return from England?” Martine asked.
“What did I say about a blind date? Une inconnue?”
“But you will call her?”
Steven sighed. “She seems to be really nice, Martine. I will call her.”
“Good, you will forget Katie Jackson.”
Steven hung up and headed for the bathroom. The gray afternoon skies had turned to rain and a cold wind was blowing. A hot shower and a glass of wine by the fire sounded good.
As the hot water ran over him, Steven recalled what Martine had said.
You will forget Katie Jackson.
He wondered if that were true. He actually had thought of her very little during the day, but he supposed that it would take more than a “good French woman” to make him actually forget her.
After toweling dry, he dressed for bed, poured his wine, and started the fire. Of course, Katie had made it clear that she had broken up with him. Either he could wallow in self-pity or he could try to forget her.
He sipped the wine. It would take time to get over Katie, and perhaps Susanne was the answer. Susanne or someone else.
Steven walked to his desk. As he knew, Professor Spence had hoped to lure him back to Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, however, he had written
of his difficulty in arranging an appointment for Steven. He had been relieved, not wanting his old professor to find him a position, only to have to refuse it. But things had changed. Perhaps he could find him a visiting appointment. Get him away from New York for a few months.
Steven placed his glass on the desk, found his stationery, and began to write.
Proposal
Katherine tore open the letter from her mother. Her note was attached to a clipping from the Richmond Times-Dispatch. “I thought you would be interested.”
Katherine began to read the clipping.
William R. Wilson, an attorney from Hamilton, announced yesterday that he will be a candidate for the Congressional seat currently held by Representative Charles Brown. Rep. Brown has announced that he will not seek re-election next fall, a move prompted, in part, by the revelation that a senior aid had been accepting money from constituents who were seeking Rep. Brown’s assistance in matters before various federal agencies.
In his announcement, Wilson described himself as the candidate who supports “family values in government.” Without mentioning Rep. Brown by name, he asserted, “We need integrity in government.” He called for “a return to morality, to the America that we have known in the past, one in which parents can feel safe when their children are playing in the park, one in which women can feel safe walking along a neighborhood street after dark, where a man’s word is his bond, and his home is his castle, a castle where he feels it is not necessary to post guards along the walls nor to draw the bridge at sunset.”
Chris Watkins, Mr. Wilson’s spokesman, said that Mr. Wilson will support legislation that strengthens the family unit, and he will work to assure that all children have access to adequate healthcare, nutrition, and education.
“Gag me!” Katherine said aloud. “Bill Wilson and family values. This must be a joke.” She re-read the second paragraph. “How many platitudes can they pack into a single announcement? A woman should feel safe walking along a street. How about when helping a friend to his room?”
The Handfasting Page 17
