Josiah for President

by Martha Bolton

  “Josiah is a common name among the Amish,” Mark said. “Like Mose. There are probably hundreds of them in Lancaster County alone. But feel free to start looking.”

  Emily hesitated. Mark hoped she was reconsidering his earlier request. After all, even if she did find Josiah, she wouldn’t be able to film him, because of his Amish beliefs. Apparently deciding to stick by her word and drop the inquisition for the moment, she smoothly changed the direction of the interview. Mark appreciated it.

  When they were off camera and off the record, though, she asked the congressman.

  “I don’t know why I’m giving you a pass on this, Stedman.”

  “Because you want the same things for our country I do.”

  “Same things? Politically, we’re polar opposites. You do know that, right?”

  “Oh, I think we have more in common than either one of us wants to admit.”

  Whether or not Mark’s assessment of Emily was right, she gave a slight nod. “Promise me his first interview?”

  “You have my word.”

  “A man’s word? What does that mean anymore?” Emily asked.

  Mark smiled. “It means something there in Lancaster County.”

  “I’ve got you on record, Congressman. His first interview.” Emily thanked the former candidate for his time and then nodded at the cameraman to start shutting down the shoot. “This is certainly an unusual election year,” she said. “Without the incumbent in the mix, it’s anybody game.”

  “Well, something’s gotta give,” the cameraman said. “Unemployment hit 12 percent last week, and the economy’s been in the tank ever since Holt took office. No wonder we’re all looking for someone who’ll take us in a new direction.”

  “Moving farther to the right or farther to the left?”

  “Maybe neither,” he said.

  Emily gave him a puzzled look. “The center?”

  The cameraman shook his head. “Maybe it’s back … to what really matters.”

  HARLEY PHILLIPS TOOK FULL ADVANTAGE OF MARK STEDMAN’S controversial endorsement of the Amish man by jumping on the publicity bandwagon and attempting to woo the congressman’s supporters over to his camp.

  “Do you want a president who can lead or who can bale hay?” Harley said on one prominent evening news program. He didn’t leave it there, either.

  “The nation should be thankful that someone with judgment as bad as Mark Stedman’s has dropped out of the presidential race,” he commented on a morning talk show. “He did us all a favor. What would he have done as president? Outlaw electricity?”

  From television to radio to print, Harley Phillips made the rounds, distancing himself from Mark’s “preposterous idea” and courting Stedman’s floundering loyalists. Harley knew they were wondering what they should do when they stepped into the voting booth come November. If they couldn’t vote for their man, then who should they vote for?

  Harley Phillips, of course.

  Harley was salivating at this recent turn of events. If he couldn’t have Mark’s official endorsement, then painting his former opponent as incompetent was the next best thing. Congressman Stedman, in Harley’s opinion, had shot himself in the foot and had managed to cast serious doubts on his mental stability. And he had done it all himself. That was the beauty of the situation. Harley hadn’t had to go digging around in Mark’s past to destroy him. The congressman had handed Harley the votes himself.

  Stedman had also proven that he knew nothing about Amish culture, since it was widely known that the Amish traditionally didn’t run for national office. Their line between church and state was a well-established historic fact, and they intended to keep it that way — Harley was certain of it.

  MEANWHILE, MARK WAS MAKING THE PUBLICITY ROUNDS HIMSELF, ultimately landing the most sought-after spot of all — The Sunday Morning News with Mitchell Maxwell.

  “I’ll jump right in, Congressman Stedman, with the question everyone’s asking,” Maxwell said at the beginning of the program. “How can someone such as this man Josiah, a virtual unknown, be elected president if he isn’t doing television interviews and isn’t even on the ballot?”

  “First of all, he’s Amish,” Mark said. “The Amish don’t approve of being photographed or having their image recorded. As far as an interview goes, it’s against Amish teaching to seek the limelight. They are a humble people.”

  “Case in point, Congressman. A presidential candidate who doesn’t seek the limelight would hardly stand a chance of getting elected.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Folks might think it’s a refreshing change.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Maxwell said. “I realize humility and politics don’t often go hand in hand, but seriously, Congressman, aren’t you simply wasting everyone’s time and, quite possibly, their vote?”

  “Wasting their time or trying to save the country?”

  “With all due respect, sir, has the man even agreed to run? Other than some local elections, the Amish don’t typically get involved in politics, do they?”

  “If the people draft him, it is my sincere belief that he will serve.”

  “He’s told you that?”

  “Not in those exact words.”

  “In what exact words, Congressman?”

  Carl watched Mark from the side of the stage. He wanted to be loyal to the congressman he had believed in for so many years, but now he had serious doubts about Stedman’s new political direction. And though he didn’t want to doubt Mark’s judgment, he was also beginning to have serious doubts about the stability of that too.

  “Well, that went well,” Mark said sarcastically when he and Carl stepped out of the studio following the interview.

  “You held your own,” Carl reassured him. His assessment was an honest one, even though he wasn’t convinced his boss was doing the right thing. Mark had answered some very difficult interview questions, and that needed to be acknowledged. At times during the interview, Stedman may have sounded as though he’d lost his grip on reality, but he hadn’t lost his charm.

  “So when are you going to tell Josiah?” Carl asked.

  “Have you seen the latest polls?”

  “Yeah. Your man’s running sixth.”

  “Not bad for someone who’s not even on the ballot, huh? Unbelievable!”

  “You’re not going to tell him for a while yet, are you, sir?”

  Mark smiled. “I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe I’ll wait until he’s in third or fourth place. Why spoil the surprise?”

  HARLEY SURPRISED EVEN HIMSELF WHEN HE APPEARED AT THE much-anticipated Montgomery/Stead/Ross Foundation Dinner and kept his remarks to nine minutes, forty-seven seconds. It bothered him a little that he’d had thirteen seconds to spare, but he managed to let it go. He had stayed under the ten-minute requirement, and that, he figured, should make the powers that be happy enough to invite him back sometime in the future.

  More importantly, according to his own analysis, he’d hit a home run. He’d gotten a standing ovation at the end of his talk. He’d been the final speaker, and the group was being dismissed at the same time, but still, Harley would certainly spin it as a standing ovation for himself in his next press release.

  Harley now concentrated his campaign efforts on the upcoming New York and Pennsylvania primaries, passing on Delaware and Connecticut with their smaller pool of delegates up for grabs. It was late April, and since no single candidate had yet been declared the runaway front-runner for either party, fund-raising efforts were challenging, to say the least. Campaigning had to be selective. Sure, Harley was leading in the polls for his own party primary, but that could change overnight in this fickle environment.

  MARK SAT AT HIS OFFICE DESK, READING THE MORNING PAPER.

  “Son of a gun!” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Nate said, opening another box of Josiah for President posters and taking a bite of a granola bar. The bar wasn’t tasty, but he figured it would cancel out the two glazed donuts he’d eaten an hour earli
er.

  “We’ve moved up. Says here we’re fourth in the polls now. Seems the more Harley campaigns, the better we do.”

  Mark shoved the newspaper article across the desk to Nate, who was rightfully impressed by the showing, especially considering Josiah wasn’t doing any campaigning himself and still didn’t even know he was running. Still, Nate remained cautious.

  “Look, all we’ve got are enough votes to potentially hurt both parties but not to win it ourselves. Gotta do better than this, Mark,” Nate said.

  “Fourth!” Mark repeated. “Did you catch that? A write-in Independent candidate polling in the number-four spot? This is unheard of!”

  “I won’t argue with you there, sir.”

  “Harley Phillips, eat our buggy dust!”

  “So what do we do now, sir?”

  “Now we tell him!”

  MARK TURNED OFF THE HIGHWAY AND RETRACED HIS JOURNEY through Amish country.

  He passed by the ditch where he’d gone off the road and then turned down one street, followed by another, before finally driving up Josiah’s driveway. Elizabeth and the kids were in the garden and didn’t immediately recognize Mark in his personal car, even though he gave them a friendly wave.

  “You said I could come back,” Mark said as he got out of his silver Lexus.

  “Yes, and we meant it,” Elizabeth said, smiling that shy, sweet smile of hers when she finally recognized him. “Your family didn’t come with you?” she asked, clearly disappointed.

  “Not this trip. Josiah around?”

  “He’s out working in the field. You want me to send one of the kids out there to get him?”

  “No, I’ll walk on over there. Thank you. Good to see you again, Elizabeth.”

  Mark looked across the field and spotted Josiah plowing. He walked toward him and waved, but Josiah didn’t see him until he turned the plow to start up the next row. When Josiah did spot Mark waving at him, he immediately stopped his work and walked toward Mark.

  “Mark, good to see you, my brother!” Josiah said when he got close enough. “You’re not stuck in a ditch again, are you?”

  “No.” Mark laughed. “But I told you I’d be back.”

  “That’s right, you sure did. But lots of folks say that, and you never see ‘em again. Glad you’re not one of ‘em.” Josiah removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Josiah …” Mark said with a sheepish grin and a slight raise of his eyebrow.

  “Jah?”

  “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “YOU WHAT?” JOSIAH SAID, TRYING TO MAINTAIN A CERTAIN degree of composure, but finding it a bit difficult given the nature of Mark’s revelation.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Mark said, “but just hear me out. What good does it do to have all your wisdom and not share it with the rest of the country? Especially now.”

  “I’m Amish, Mark. Are you trying to get me excommunicated?”

  “No, just elected. You’re running fourth in the polls right now.”

  “How? I’m not even in the election!”

  “I know. But fourth! Did you hear me? No one’s ever done that as a write-in candidate. Fourth!”

  “A write-in candidate? Don’t I get a say in this? Folks can just write your name down on a ballot, and the next thing you know you’re president? They can’t do that, can they? I have rights, don’t I? I’ve got a farm to manage here. I’m happy here. Mark, what have you done, my friend?”

  “We can’t elect you without your consent, of course. These are just polls. Sort of a what-if scenario.”

  “So I pulled you out of a ditch, and now you’re trying to drag me into one?”

  Mark laughed but continued to press Josiah. “You’re exactly who we need, Josiah. And there’s still plenty of time to fill out all the necessary paperwork for your candidacy in the states that allow a write-in candidate.”

  “I can’t do it, Mark. This goes against our Amish ways, you know that. You’re going to have to clear this up, my friend. Tell everyone it was a joke, a mistake, delirium, whatever you want to say. But you’re going to have to let them know there will be no Amish candidate. I can’t believe you’ve done such a thing.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “I’m not your desperate measure. You’re going to have to look elsewhere, my friend.”

  Josiah wasn’t sure if he agreed with Mark about his assessment either. To him, desperate times called for simple solutions — good old-fashioned common sense, hard work, and an ample dose of prayer. Not that those things weren’t in Washington already. They were. Especially hard work. Congressman Stedman could no doubt attest to that. Politics was hard work. But whatever desperate times America found herself in, it wasn’t up to an Amish man from Lancaster County to fix it. He would continue to live his life, love his family, and obey whatever laws were put in place, but that was all that could be expected of him, friendship or not.

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not interested,” Josiah said emphatically.

  “Will you at least think about it?”

  “I just did. Still not interested.”

  “Well, then, can I ask you to at least, you know, pray about it?”

  “I’m praying right now. Praying that this whole notion of yours is a nightmare that I shall awake from soon. Besides, if it were in God’s will, the bishop would tell me and I would feel a stirring in my soul. But this goes against our Ordnung.”

  “Ordnung?”

  “Our rules for living. They vary from district to district, but ours are very clear — we don’t run in national elections.”

  “You’re the perfect candidate, Josiah. You’re as outside the system as one can get. Besides, you said yourself that it doesn’t matter if anyone listens. What matters is that you say what you believe. Say it, Josiah! Tell us the truth! We’ve been lied to long enough … by too many candidates on both sides. Say what needs to be said, and we’ll listen! I’ll listen! Who knows? Maybe the whole country’ll listen! You pulled me out of a ditch once. Now pull us all out.”

  “You’re right, Mark. I did pull you out of a ditch. But you’re making me wonder now if I should’ve left you there.”

  “How do you know you wouldn’t enjoy being president?”

  “You’re not hearing me, my friend. My answer is no. I cannot break the rules of the Ordnung.”

  “Is that no as in no, or no as in ‘Let me think about it’?”

  “It’s no, Mark. Two letters — n-o. I can say it in Pennsylvania Dutch if you’d like, but it’s still no.”

  “That’s your last word on the matter?”

  “It has to be, Mark. You’ve got to put a stop to this foolishness right now!” Josiah said with more forcefulness than usual. He wasn’t accustomed to raising his voice, but Mark hadn’t been listening to what he had been saying. He had to make sure the politician had heard him — his answer was no. Undeniably, indisputably, unwaveringly no.

  “All right, I won’t say another word about it,” Mark said as he turned and started walking back toward his car. But then he stopped and turned around. “Not another word except to say that I would be happy to speak with your bishop about it. I’ve been told I have a knack for swaying others to my way of thinking.”

  “Then you should use it for gut, Mark, and leave nonsense such as this alone. President? What were you thinking, brother?”

  “So it’s still a no?”

  Josiah looked at Mark and wondered what it was about politics that caused such a severe hearing loss in some of those who entered it.

  “It’s a no today, tomorrow, and every day after that,” he said as emphatically as he could without coming across as rude.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to accept that. It’s been good to see you, Josiah.”

  “And you as well, Mark. Come back anytime.”

  Mark nodded, then got into his car. Josiah watched him drive away. Up until that moment, he had never s
een Mark as someone who might disrupt his life and his home with outside temptations. He thought the former congressman respected the lifestyle he and Elizabeth had chosen. But now the stranger had stepped over their boundaries, and it troubled him.

  THAT EVENING, AS ELIZABETH PREPARED FOR BED, SHE ADMITTED to Josiah that she had seen the two of them engaged in what appeared to be a serious discussion.

  “What were you talking about?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you what it was about, Elizabeth. Mark wanted to know if I would be interested in running for president.”

  “Of what?”

  “The United States! I don’t know where he would get such a notion.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “Well, I thought he was joking at first. But when I realized he was serious, I told him the only thing I could tell him — no, of course. The bishop would never approve. I’d be risking a shunning for sure. And I wouldn’t blame the bishop either. Anyway, who’d take me seriously as a candidate? I’m just a farmer. I didn’t go to some fancy law school, and I’ve never been elected to any political office in my life, not even local ones. The only experience I have is running our farm and raising a family.”

  “You told him no, so that should put an end to it, jah?”

  “I hope so. I certainly can’t allow it to go on. Why, do you know he said I’m already running fourth in the polls?”

  “How could that be? You’re not even a candidate.”

  “Apparently he’s told a lot of people about me.”

  “They’d vote for someone who’s not even running? And they call us a peculiar people.”

  “It seems our friend Mark is quite the salesman. The English sure get some wild ideas sometimes, jah?”

  They both laughed and shook their heads over this crazy notion of their former houseguest. But the matter would soon resolve itself, they were certain of it. Mark would withdraw Josiah’s name from the campaign, and then it would be over. No real harm done.

  Elizabeth got into bed and scooted closer to Josiah. “The vet comes tomorrow for the horses,” she said.