The Senator's Choice

by Combs, Sasha

  “I don’t think that any one gesture on my part could ever prove to you that I love Pamela.”

  “I never said that I don’t believe you love my daughter.”

  “You didn’t have to say it, your actions implied that my love couldn’t be real. But presently that isn’t the point that I want to address.”

  William’s face held little emotion when he spoke again. When he heard the sound of his own voice, he’d imagined there would be more inflection...more feeling; but there wasn’t.

  “I’m stepping down from my senate seat. I’ve drafted a letter that Frederick will release and the announcement will put an end to my campaign. I won’t risk exposing Pamela to the questions that our relationship might generate. She doesn’t deserve that, neither does Morgan. I only want happiness for them both. And if the only way I can make that happen is by stepping down...then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  William watched as both men stood dumbstruck staring at him; unable to believe what they were hearing. It had not been a surprise to Michael when William became a favorite in his political position. After his first few years, a low rumbling in certain corners had began pointing to the possibility of adding his name to the list of potential candidates to run for president. When Michael shared this information with William, he had noticed how humble his friend had been; citing the reports were nothing more than mere gossip. But Michael’s sources were highly credible and he knew that not only was William being groomed for something much bigger than his senate seat. He believed that soon, William would need trusted people to build his camp. Michael had already made the difficult decision to leave his practice when and if his friend expanded his political ambitions. William would need people around him that he could trust and Michael would be a person he could depend on.

  So, when he spoke, it was from this train of thought that Michael had wisely chose his words.

  “William, stepping down won’t be necessary. Do you actually think that Pamela isn’t up to the task? She’s perfectly suited for political life and I’m sure she won’t let you down. Pamela will make you proud to say that she’s your wife.”

  “I don’t doubt that Pamela will be the perfect politicians wife but that isn’t what troubles me.”

  William looked at Frederick, hoping that he would chime in to explain his position. Frederick nodded, he wasn’t shy when it came to stating facts and for this William was truly grateful because he didn’t relish the idea of citing rhyme and verse.

  “Michael...before we arrived at Barn Wood Hudson, I thought it would be helpful to poll William’s constituents. I didn’t want us flying blind, especially since William had planned to remarry. When I considered the numbers, I concluded that William needs to publicly announce that he has remarried and this information must be relayed by the end of the week. If he waits longer than that, the voters might interpret his hesitation negatively. They may think that he has something to hide.”

  Michael had never been a big fan of polls but he wasn’t to far off from agreeing with Frederick. Shortly after William’s senate honeymoon period had worn off, his likability had lingered, leading to the reporters tagging him with a nickname, Massachusetts’ Golden Boy. William never knew exactly where the Golden Boy name had come from. It had been Michael who’d found out the nicknames meaning. Everything that William touched in the senate, had a way of turning into gold. He was an outstanding negotiator. This led to countless offers to join several committees. Unlike most neophyte senators, William was lucky enough to have the option of being selective because he was the one being sought after. He leafed through the numerous offers, earnestly toiling over his decision. This honor was generally given to only a select group of senators and now William was a part of that discriminating class.

  Michael wouldn’t allow William to discard his position without giving his decision more thought. He’d been a hard ass, and he didn’t want to be William’s reason for walking away from his job in Washington.

  “William...before you decide to throw everything away, I think you need to talk to Pamela. Soon, we’ll be going back to the cabin to check on her progress with Morgan. I think you should wait until then, before you come to any conclusions.”

  Michael thought it imperative to be frank. Even though they were in the middle of nowhere, and it was unlikely that this story would get out; Frederick had equipment able to leap above the trees, to reach beyond and out into the world. He didn’t want to chance William instructing his campaign manager to report his decision to the press before discussing this change with Pamela.

  “William...you should listen to Michael. He makes a valid point. Life changing decisions shouldn’t be made in haste. You need time to weigh all your options.” Frederick said and William noticed the sound of sincerity in his voice. Frederick didn’t sound like he was saying what was expected of him as William’s campaign manager. His words held within each syllable, a desire to do what was best. William had to admire their honesty but he wasn’t so sure that either man realized how much he risked losing. This was his life and William wouldn’t gamble, chancing that all would come out standing upright and properly on end.

  __________________________

  Chapter 9

  End of the road

  Pamela stretched, then rolled over onto her stomach; grimacing as her sensitive nipples ached due to their tenderness. Her eyes had not opened and she was still halfway asleep. In her groggy state, she had forgotten that lying on her stomach was off limits. She turned back onto her side, clinching her jaws, as a shiver seized her gut, buzzing down to the space in between her sealed thighs. She held her position still, waiting for her body to settle in a place of normalcy.

  Streams of light shined through the window, brightening up the room with a glow of morning promises. She thrilled at the prospect over having one more day to spend time alone with Morgan. When William had said that he would return in two days time, before he left Pamela had not definitively synchronized their watches. In fact, based on what he’d said, William could arrive today or tomorrow. Who knew that two days could mean more than one thing. He could arrive on the second day or after the second day has passed. Depending on how it’s interpreted, it could argued that both meanings are equally correct. Two days current or two days passed. She wanted to clog her head for not thinking of this before hand. While she’d been holding back her tears, she should have taken the time to clarify his meaning.

  Pamela slipped from underneath the blanket, setting her feet firmly on the cold floor. She tapped the ground with her feet, searching for her socks. She’d slipped them off last night, leaving them beside the bed to wear in the morning.

  Once her toe came upon the soft cotton fabric, she pinched the sock in between her toes, lifting it up from the floor to her hand, then she did the same to find its mate. Once she held both socks, Pamela put them on. She stretched once more, before rising to a standing position. Her stomach grumbled with a confusing craving. On one hand, the nausea greeted her but on the other hand, her brain was listing out foods that would ease the horrid taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, most of the items on the list weren’t in the cabin. She would have to be content with whatever she could drum up from the supplies that she had on hand.

  Pamela padded across the floor in her socks to a small alcove specially crafted to be a grooming area. She splashed water on her face, then dry brushed her teeth with tooth paste. The thought of gargling, then spitting in the face bowl had almost grossed her out the first time she did this, so instead, she swallowed the toothpaste without the aid of using water. Once she’d freshened up, Pam headed in the direction of the half opened door that led to the kitchen. When she reached the archway she remembered a can of pineapples that she’d seen buried in the back of the cabinet. The tart taste would do the trick to settle her stomach. This idea brought a smile to her face.

  Standing in front of the iron crafted stove, Pamela fed three small logs into its belly. She lit a match to light the kindling,
and small twigs. Once the fire didn’t threaten to burn out, Pamela turned to look up towards the loft. It was quiet, and normally sounds of movement would be heard at this time of the day. Morgan was not a late sleeper.

  Pamela walked over to the ladder, staring at the thing as if it weren’t an inanimate object. In someways, to her it wasn’t. It had become a symbol of power and control. On some days the ladder reigned as ruler because without it, the loft would be inaccessible. Leaning in, Pamela placed her hand on the ladder, to brace her body. She arched her head to the side, while straining her ears to listen for the smallest sound. When she heard nothing, she braved climbing the first few steps, just enough to peep over the ledge.

  “Morgan...” she said in a questioning voice. She didn’t know why she was waiting for a response because Morgan still had not broken off from her silent treatment. The sad thing about their interaction had occurred yesterday after her fall. Had she not required first aid attention, Pamela was pretty sure Morgan would have gone the entire time without having to talk to her at all. Her injury had forced her to speak. As Pamela bandaged her cut, she’d alternately looked at her expression. Morgan’s lashes laid low, looking down in the direction of the floor. Pamela had never witnessed such devotion to stubbornness. William wasn’t like that, so she imagined that Bianca had to possess the stubborn streak. Then on the other hand, after witnessing Wallace’s performance, Pamela suspected perhaps Morgan’s grandfather was the reason for her pigheadedness.

  Taking a big chance, Pamela climbed to a height that would allow her to see the entire open space. Once she was at the top, her eyes scanned the area, but the loft was empty. Even the bed had already been made up.

  Pamela climbed down the stairs so fast, she missed the second to the last step, causing her to fall the rest of the way. Her chin collided with the ladder, just before she fell back, landing butt first on the floor.

  “Crap...” she spat angrily. She was quite sure it was to early in her pregnancy to injure the baby, but her pride had not escaped unscathed. For this reason, she was happy to be alone without witnesses. This wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to be remembered for.

  Coming to her feet, Pamela stood and immediately was greeted by a sharp pain racing down the center of her back. She wondered if perhaps she’d cracked her tailbone. But she couldn’t worry about that now. It wasn’t like there was an emergency room down the street with an x-ray machine to quickly diagnosis her. If something was fractured, cracked or broken, it would have to wait because right now, she needed to find Morgan. Thoughts of Morgan running off in the night like she did before; these images raced in her brain. Pamela was in no mood for a repeat performance. Not now...especially with an aching back and a butt that didn’t feel much better.

  Pamela stepped out onto the porched, hoping and praying to find Morgan sitting on the edge of the deck. The girl would sit with feet dangling, for hours staring pass the trees into nothingness. But the place that had been her favorite spot was empty and for the first time Pamela craved for the sight of her back. Anything would be better than not seeing her at all. She went to the stairs, her eyes darting wildly in every direction.

  “Morgan...” she shouted. The word was carried off in the wind. It wasn’t until then that Pamela noticed the position of the sun. From where she stood, the glowing ball looked to be resting on top of one of the trees, sitting there O, so pretty.

  “For goodness sake...” she exclaimed. It was far later than she thought. Pamela climbed down the steps, standing motionless in the clearing. If Morgan rose at dawn, she could be hours away now, in any direction. When they traveled to the cabin, they had used up most of the daylight to get there. The light had made traveling there safe. Even so, Pamela had not been looking for landmarks to guide her. She’d been focusing her eyes on William’s back as he led the way, or pointed her father in the right direction as he walked beside her.

  In short, Pamela was up a creek without a paddle because she couldn’t go out in search for Morgan. She didn’t know the area, which meant she would be the one lost. The area surrounding William’s property was federally owned and she couldn’t count on running into anyone. More importantly, she couldn’t chance being mistaken by a hunter as prey. Moving beyond the cabins clearing was simply to risky. Pamela had no other choice but to wait until William returned.

  Earlier before she left her room, she’d been looking forward to seeing him again. Last night had been difficult for her and her tears primarily fell due to William’s absence. Yet now, as she looked at the forest that mocked her; Pamela dreaded the expression that she knew would cover William’s face.

  “How could I be so thoughtless?” She said. She’d taken every precaution to safeguard Morgan. Pamela followed her every move. She even slept with the door to her bedroom open. She had toyed with the idea of placing her sleeping bag in front of the cabins door to prevent Morgan from leaving. At the time, the idea sounded silly in her head but now she was wishing she had done that very thing.

  A creaking sound startled her, causing Pamela to turn in the direction of the noise. Clack... This sound she knew. It was the outhouse door, being closed, then locked.

  Pamela ran in this direction, her heart pumping fast, giving her the energy that she would need. She didn’t even feel the pain in her back until she’d reached sprinting speed but the dull ached didn’t stop her jubilant glide.

  As she galloped towards her, Pamela’s body jerked back, sending dirt along with other debris scattering due to her abrupt stop. Morgan stared at her odd body language, then her eyes took in her face. An expression of horror was there, then her face shifted and the appearance was that of a person highly concerned.

  “Morgan...” Pamela spoke in a low unthreatening tone.

  “Honey...walk towards me. Don’t run but...try to get to me quick, without running.”

  Morgan’s face twisted and contorted. She didn’t know what would suggest to Pamela that she would ever run into her arms, like the children in ‘The Sound of Music’. She didn’t do sloppy mushy things like that with strangers or people pretending to be her friend. It didn’t matter that her soul searching had changed her mind, but that had only been a tiny bit. Morgan had planned to spend the day continuing her soul searching because she didn’t want to do anything that would disappoint her dead mother. This was the least she could do.

  Pamela’s feet wouldn’t move. She knew this because she had tried to take a few steps in Morgan’s direction but any sudden move made by her... Any sign indicating that her body’s approach was imminent would cause the large bear to move more in Morgan’s direction. At one point when she’d called out, talking to Morgan; the large bear had reared up, standing only on its hind legs. Pamela thought she should yell out, telling Morgan to run but when her eyes locked with the bears, she knew the yelling might trigger the oversized animal to charge forward. These weren’t bovine eyes.

  Pamela’s heart was beating so fast, she could hear the drumming roar in her ears. Then, she felt the salty burn of tears welling up in her eyes. She had to do something but currently she didn’t know what to do.

  Pamela tried to calculate Morgan’s distance from the bear. She wondered if the young girl was closest to her to make a mad dash; she would grab her then toss her backwards, instructing Morgan to run back to the cabin, then she would lock them both inside. If only Morgan would speed up her steps but she was doing one of her stubborn impersonation.

  Pamela’s brain was juggling several things at once. The most important thought was a weapon. Her eyes darted briskly, taking in her surroundings in multiple tiny shots. The cabin had not been created to remain for lengthy stays. Which is the reason not much in the way of yard tools was ever stored here. During her lightning speed glances, Pamela did spy the ax on the side of the house but covering that distance to retrieve it would take her even farther from Morgan...placing the bear closer to the young girl.

  Pamela knew that she had to do something, because now, as Morgan neare
d her, the bear was on the move again. In a split second, she knew what she needed to do.

  Simultaneously, she said and did these things. Running towards Morgan at an angle leading away from the bear, and going in the direction of the house; Pamela extended her arm, while spreading wide her hand. They had to get inside of the cabin it was the safest place and the most logical way to protect themselves. Since she couldn’t run directly to Morgan, because this would take her away from the house, Pamela believed, if she ran at an angle taking her near Morgan but back in the direction of the house; she could accomplish two things at once. She shouted her command, then ran with all her might.

  “Bear...bear... Run Morgan. Take my hand. Run...” she said in a rushed voice. Morgan had traveled to these woods since she was a little girl. She knew the dangers that lie in wait beyond the tree line, in the woods. So, when she heard Pamela say bear, she didn’t waste precious seconds turning to look behind her because Morgan didn’t need to see the creature for herself. Pamela had no reason to lie to her.

  Forcing her legs to work, even as fear gripped her; Pamela ran but her eyes never left the bears. Morgan had reached her, taking hold of her hand, sooner than she thought she would. She didn’t waste precious breaths, telling Morgan to run faster. Pamela was tugging the girl so hard, she feared dislocating her arm. Their brisk run was the only sign that Morgan needed to understand that danger loomed behind her.

  They were just a few feet from the house. Pamela could see the steps, they just needed to round the corner and she would kick the door in. Already in her mind, she was working out what would need to be done. The wooden shutters would have to be closed to keep the bear from breaking the windows to enter from that point. Next, she would send Morgan to the loft and tell her to pull up the ladder. If the Bear got inside, that would be the safest place. She would line up the knives on the table to use as weapons if it came down to it. Then there was the fire in the stove. She imagined the bear wouldn’t like the feel of a scolding hot log slammed into its muzzle.