Election Day (By Design Book 10)

by J. A. Armstrong

  “It’s too soon,” Michelle muttered.

  “It’s only too soon if those two little ones say it is.” Candace clasped her daughter’s hand.

  “Mom, not today. I don’t want to make this day worse for you.”

  “Me?” Candace shook her head. “I know I call you all a bunch of lunatics, but I never thought you were actually crazy. What on earth are you talking about?”

  “This—all of this. You have a house full of family, and I know the last couple of days have been…”

  “Stop,” Candace put the thought to rest. “Stop being my mother. You’ll have plenty of practice mothering soon enough.” She squeezed Michelle’s hand. “Do you want me to get Mel?”

  Michelle nodded reluctantly. Candace started to pull away. Michelle tugged on her hand. “Mom, what if…”

  “It’ll be fine, Shell,” Candace promised. “Wait here.”

  Candace steadied herself as she walked out the door toward the living room.

  “Done already?” Jameson caught her in the hallway. “Candace? Did something happen?”

  Candace shook her head. “Can you get Mel and come to the office?”

  “Are we getting detention again?” Jameson cracked.

  Candace sighed. “It’s Shell. She’s having some contractions.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Not you too,” Candace said. “She’ll be okay. She needs all of us to be okay.”

  Jameson nodded. “Maybe you should get Melanie. I’ll sit with Mel.”

  “See if you can get her to call the doctor.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Where’s Mel?”

  “She was with Marianne in the kitchen last I saw.”

  Candace nodded her thanks. “Take a breath, honey. You look almost as nervous as Shell.”

  Jameson made her way to the office and stopped just outside. “You’d think I would be used to this by now,” she muttered. Here goes. “Shell?”

  Michelle looked up sheepishly.

  “How are you doing?” Jameson asked.

  “Nervous.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Your mom’s getting Mel right now. Maybe you should call the doctor while we wait.”

  Michelle bit her lip.

  “Shell, come on. You’ll feel better once you call.”

  “I left my phone in Mel’s bag.”

  Jameson took out her phone and handed it to her step-daughter. “Use mine.”

  ***

  Candace heard Melanie and Marianne laughing. She hoped that the jovial atmosphere might help to keep Melanie calm. As adept as Candace had become at placating the fears of others, it remained a challenge with those closest to her. Candace was confident that all would be well with Michelle. She’d accompanied Michelle to her last doctor’s appointment. She also understood that this was Michelle’s first pregnancy. Michelle’s inclination to joke often masked her insecurity. Candace knew that too. Melanie would need to be the voice of reason and calm now.

  “Sounds like a party in here,” Candace entered the room.

  “We found JD’s beer,” Marianne explained.

  “Well, I hate to interrupt the pub tour, but I think Mel is needed elsewhere.”

  Melanie turned pale.

  Marianne smiled and took hold of Melanie’s hand while she addressed her mother. “Let me guess, Shell’s in labor.”

  “I’m not sure it’s labor,” Candace said. “You know how this goes.”

  “I seem to have some memory of it,” Marianne quipped.

  Melanie pushed out her chair. “She’s freaking out, isn’t she?”

  Candace chuckled. “A little. She’s in my office with Jameson.”

  Melanie nodded. “Thanks.” Without another word, she headed to find her wife.

  “She’s calmer than I imagined,” Candace observed.

  “Yeah. I don’t think she’s that surprised,” Marianne said. “How about Shell?”

  “She’s scared.”

  “Normal.”

  “Sure is,” Candace agreed. “Want to help offer some moral support?”

  Marianne grabbed her beer.

  “You’re taking that?” Candace asked.

  “Hey, I get to have moral support too.”

  Candace snickered. Lunatics—all of them.

  ***

  Marianne wandered into the kitchen to find Candace at the table sipping a cup of tea. “Shell call yet?”

  “About ten minutes ago. The kids go down okay?”

  “Yeah. What did she say?”

  “They’re sending her home—on bed rest.”

  “Oh, that must’ve gone over well.”

  Candace laughed. “Actually, I think she’s so relieved, she’s okay with it.”

  “How’s Mel?”

  “Tired. Sounds like Shell could go any minute. I think they’d like to push it another week or two if possible.”

  “How’s JD?” Marianne asked. “She looked almost as pale as Shell.”

  “You know her. She worries about all of you.”

  “Mmm.”

  “What?”

  Marianne sighed. “I think she’s worried about you right now.”

  “I’m all right, Marianne.”

  “No offense, Mom but for a politician, you are a horrible liar.”

  Candace toyed with the tea bag in her cup. It had been a long, stressful week. She was used to that scenario. It had also been overwhelmingly emotional. Denying that fact seemed pointless. Marianne would see through it just as Jameson could. “It’s been a long week.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Marianne asked.

  Did she? Candace had cried plenty of tears in Jameson’s arms since her mother’s stroke and subsequent death. She’d shared memories and thoughts with Jameson. She hadn’t waded into her feelings. Candace wasn’t entirely sure what she did feel. The emotions that coursed through her seemed to change like the wind. She’d kept them in check during the day. When evening fell, Candace lost all hope of willing her heart into submission.

  “You don’t have to, Mom.”

  “It’s not that,” Candace replied. “For once, I’m not sure what to say. I know that’s hard to believe.”

  “Not really. That’s how I felt when I heard the news about Rick.”

  “I wish you had never had to go through that. Not the same, honey. Rick was…”

  “It’s not the same but it’s similar.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “I know you don’t think so,” Marianne stopped her mother’s protest. “One the hardest parts of losing Rick was having to decide to let him go. I knew that’s what he would want. I knew he was already gone. Somehow, that’s been the most painful thing to reconcile.”

  Candace understood. She’d been lying awake every night. Inevitably, the thought passed through her mind that she was responsible for her mother’s death. Logically, she knew that wasn’t true. Logic failed to reason with the guilt she felt.

  Marianne watched her mother closely. She’d had many conversations with her mother after Rick’s death. They’d grown closer than they had ever been. Marianne had made peace with her husband’s death, as much as any person could. She enjoyed a closer relationship with her mother than ever before. Her friendship with Jameson had blossomed, something she was certain Rick would have loved to see. And, she had met Scott. Scott would never be Rick, but she did love him, so much so that she anticipated they would take their relationship to the next level. Marianne had one benefit that Candace did not. She had always been aware of Rick’s love for her. He’d been more than a husband and lover; he had been Marianne’s best friend. She had no questions left unanswered about how he viewed her or how he felt about their marriage. Candace had not enjoyed a close relationship with her mother. That left questions unanswered. Marianne imagined those questions had to make Marjorie Stratton’s passing doubly hard for her mother.

  “Mom, you know those were Grandma’s wishes?”

  “I know. She wouldn’t have wa
nted to see herself that way. I know that. That doesn’t make it easier.”

  “Not now, but it will. In time, it will.”

  Candace smiled. “She never wanted me to go to law school, you know?”

  “Really?”

  “After your father and I got married, she couldn’t understand why I would need a career.”

  “What did Grandpa think?”

  “I don’t know.” Candace chuckled. “What your grandfather thought tended to be overshadowed by what your grandmother told him to think.”

  Marianne laughed. “She was larger than life.”

  Candace sobered. Was she? “Maybe. It’s a funny thing, Marianne—the way you see life as you get older.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. I’m not sure it’s anything that I can explain. Tonight, when I saw Shell, my heart dropped. I just wanted to make it all okay. That never changes. No matter how old your children get, no matter how many children they have themselves, they’re still that little boy or girl with the scraped knee.”

  “I think I get that.”

  “It’s the same with your parents. They’ve always been there—good, bad, ugly—they’ve been part of your world since before your first breath. As much as you know they’re likely to leave you, you’re never ready to let them go. Almost as if you expect them to be immortal.”

  Marianne listened attentively. She remembered when her grandfather had died. Marianne had been nine. Michelle was only five and Jonah was still in diapers. She remembered her mother weeping in her father’s embrace. She hadn’t witnessed great affection between her parents often, and that image had stuck with her all these years. Candace’s revelations brought the memory back vividly. It left her with a pit in her stomach. One day, she would likely mourn her parents.

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you remember when Grandpa Stratton died?”

  “Of course. You were nine.”

  “I don’t remember it all that much except seeing Dad holding you in the kitchen while you cried.”

  “None of us saw that coming,” Candace said. “Your father was a rock for me.”

  “Really?”

  Candace smiled. “Your grandmother made a point to be in control. I think she dabbed a few tears at his service. She didn’t say much. She made plans. That’s who she was.”

  “And Dad?”

  “Your father is a good man, Marianne; you know that. I wasn’t good for him and he wasn’t good for me. That doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other.”

  “Did you? Love him?”

  “Of course. I was never in love with him. I think he would say the same. I’ll tell you the truth. I was mad as hell at my daddy for leaving me to deal with your grandmother.” Candace chuckled. “Daddy was easy. My mother? Impossible to please—at least, for me. Your father knew that. It made me feel awful. She didn’t comfort any of us. And, she didn’t want us to comfort her. I remember David pounding his fist against the side of the house. He was so angry with her.”

  “Do you think Grandpa loved her?” Marianne asked.

  Candace’s eyes glistened. “I do. I don’t know how much she let him love her, though. I’m not sure she let anyone love her, Marianne. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, your father and I, we weren’t always kind to each other. I always knew he cared about me. He still does.”

  “I know.”

  “I still care about him. You and your brother and sister mean the world to us both.”

  “I know that too.”

  “It’s hard for him to show that. He tries. It’s hard for him. It was hard for him with me too. In some ways, he reminds me of my mother.”

  Marianne nodded. Her father struggled to show affection. He’d made a considerable effort to get to know all his children in recent years, but she accepted that he would never be the parent to bandage skinned knees or broken hearts no matter how much he wanted to. He was closest to Marianne, and even she recognized his struggle. “I can see that,” Marianne commented.

  “He tries,” Candace observed. “More now than when he was younger.”

  “And, Grandma didn’t—try, I mean.”

  “I used to think that.”

  “And, now?”

  Candace sighed. “Now, I wonder who my mother was. I wonder what happened to make her so afraid to love. I spent most of my life angry with her. Now? Now, I wish I had asked that question.”

  “Do you think she would have answered?”

  “I don’t know.” Candace paused for a long moment. “I tried.”

  “She knew you loved her.”

  “Mm. I meant that I tried not to. I think I almost convinced myself that I didn’t. I did. I still do. I had convinced myself she didn’t love me.”

  “Mom…”

  “I had, Marianne. Then I remembered this time when I was about six. The last few days, I’ve been remembering,” Candace’s thought trailed off.

  “Mom?”

  “Sorry. More like impressions, not memories. She did love me. I wish that made it easier. Somehow, it just leaves me with more questions.”

  “Well, for whatever it’s worth, I love you.”

  Candace smiled. “It’s worth everything.” She stood and placed her teacup in the sink. “I should head up. Jameson probably thinks I’ve polished off the wine rack by now.”

  Marianne laughed. “Night, Mom.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Candace kissed Marianne’s head. “Thanks for the talk.”

  Marianne watched as Candace left the room. Her thoughts drifted through memory after memory of the woman who had given her life. She closed her eyes to savor them. Loss had a way of reminding a person to value each moment and every person. Not everyone was blessed with parents they could both admire and trust. Marianne had the privilege of getting to know her mother in a way that many children never would. She recognized the woman that Candace was. She could see the way Candace loved Jameson, the persona she took on when she campaigned, the wisdom of a grandparent, and even the insecurities of the child Candace had been. That didn’t change the fact that first and foremost, Candace Reid was her mother.

  There was one thing Candace had not expressed that Marianne was positive plagued her mother’s fears—the day she would lose Pearl. Marianne found herself offering a silent prayer that it would be many years before she would have to mourn the woman who had given her life. That loss would leave a hole that Marianne found unfathomable. It took her breath away. “I love you so much, Mom.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JUNE 1st

  “Are they really going to call Mom to testify?” Michelle asked as she patted her daughter’s back gently.

  “Looks like it,” Jameson said.

  “What the hell? Right before the convention? That’s not deliberate,” Michelle observed sarcastically.

  Jameson shrugged and finished fastening a diaper around her grandson’s waist. “What do you think Brody? Nana can handle those good ‘ole boys, can’t she?” She put Brody down in the portable crib.

  “How is Mom?”

  Jameson laughed when her granddaughter spit up all over Michelle’s shoulder. “Better than you,” she said.

  “Ha-ha.”

  Jameson shook her head with amusement. Amanda and Brody had arrived three weeks early—right on time for a pair of what Jameson imagined would be precocious twins.

  Michelle handed Jameson the baby. “Can you take her while I change my shirt?”

  “Sure. Just don’t ask me to pump anything.”

  “Why not? I’ll bet Mom does,” Michelle called from the next room.

  Jameson rolled her eyes. “Your mother is nuts,” she told the baby in her arms.

  “I heard that! And, it runs in the family!”

  “Can’t argue with her there, little one. Just know, that runs on the Fletcher side.”

  “Sure, it does,” Michelle said as she c
ame back into the room. “That’s why Mom calls you a lunatic all the time.”

  “Survival technique.”

  “Right. So? Mom is really okay with this?”

  “You know your mother. She’s not going to give them the satisfaction of being rattled.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not testifying to anything.”

  “Very funny.” Michelle took Amanda from Jameson and placed her next to Brody in the crib. “I meant your meeting with Dana.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “A media relations person? Come on, Shell? Who cares about me?”

  “You’re kidding right now.”

  “No.”

  “JD, seriously? You do realize that when Mom gets elected you will have a staff too? You’ll have formal appearances and…”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Michelle sighed. “People want to connect with you.”

  “Why? Shell, I’m an architect who likes to get my hands dirty.”

  “Yeah, I’d be careful how you phrase that one. And, leave the Bible out.”

  “Cute.” Jameson groaned. “Hire a media adviser? A press secretary? Who’s gonna’ want that job?”

  “How about me?”

  Jameson stared at Michelle blankly.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “It’s not that. You? Shell, don’t you have enough on your plate right now?”

  “I hear Gollum is looking for a job if you’d rather give him a call.”

  “No thanks. I like my ankles in one piece.”

  “Okay, so let me help you out.”

  “Oh, I get it. You help me, and that means I get more diaper duty.”

  “We can negotiate.”

  Jameson laughed. “Shell, seriously—you have enough to deal with right now.”

  “Seriously, JD, I love being here with the twins. More than I thought I would—if you want to know the truth.”

  “I know you do.”

  “But, it’s been three weeks and Mel is ready to kill me already.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Yeah, it is. I need to help somehow. I can’t travel with Mom, not at the pace she has to keep. I can help you. Even Dana thinks it’s a good idea.”