The candidate, p.10
The Candidate, page 10
Alex took another sip, the warm burning sensation giving her instant courage. “No, but doesn’t the next President of the United States have that power?”
Alex watched Jane silently move to a wall of framed photos. She paused pensively in front of a picture of President Kennedy and a youthful looking man Alex knew from old news articles was Jane’s father, the former governor. On the wall beside it was another photo of Joe Kincaid, this time with Bobby Kennedy. He was more aged in the picture with Jimmy Carter.
A grandfather clock chimed nine times, breaking the silence.
“My mother’s right, of course.” Jane sighed, running a finger tenderly around a wood picture frame.
“Right about what?” Alex swallowed nervously. There’s chemistry between the two of you . . . Electricity. Maria Kincaid’s words repeated in her mind. Was it true?
Jane still had her back to Alex, was still staring at the old photos that she surely must have studied hundreds of times before. “About playing to a more national audience. She’s very astute about those things. I guess I’m more like my father. I relate better to people one-on-one or in small groups. Not millions at a time.”
Alex took a step closer to Jane and tried to ignore the very powerful desire to reach out and touch her. She felt her chest constrict painfully. “Did your father ever want to run for president?”
“Yes. Several times. He never did, though. He thought he had a good chance of being Bobby Kennedy’s running mate, but of course . . .” Jane’s voice trailed off.
Yes. Bobby Kennedy. He was the reason Alex was even here. Until his assassination, candidates didn’t come under Secret Service protection before the party nomination was complete. Now, almost all declared candidates got protection.
“He loved being governor of Michigan, and once his third term was over, he knew that his brand of politics had become antiquated. So he threw his energies into mentoring others and being a power broker behind the scenes.”
Jane turned around, languidly leaned against a bookshelf, and sipped her drink with deliberation. She looked far more intense than an after-dinner drink called for. Perhaps she was considering her father’s legacy and all its dauntless burdens and gifts.
Alex was struck by the power in Jane’s stillness, and she felt the startling realization that it was as if destiny were at work. It felt like some sort of brush with greatness or royalty, being in Jane’s presence. Alex had seen it, felt it many times before with Jane. A word, a look, a touch, was often magical. She spoke from the heart. Always. And she was attentive, thoughtful. She made people feel as if they were the most important person in the world in that single moment. It was truly a natural-born gift.
Yet part of Jane’s power was also in what she held back. Alex had seen Jane readily reveal a feeling or a thought or an experience that was meaningful to her in a substantial way, even to strangers. But there was always the sense that it was really only a fraction of what Jane wasn’t revealing, and might never reveal to anyone. There always seemed to be so much more there, so many more layers. It was damn alluring.
Jesus, Kim. You’re wrong. The way this woman affects me . . . I’m not starstruck because I’m new to the job or new to a presidential campaign. She’s really got to me because she’s so incredibly special.
Mute panic seized Alex like a fist, and her heart thudded in her ears. She felt helpless in the face of her own feelings. They frightened the hell out of her. She ached for Jane to tell her things—things she didn’t tell anyone else. She wanted to be scooped up and carried off into Jane’s intimate and heady journey toward destiny, to greatness. To be there, by her side. To matter to Jane, as Jane mattered to her.
Alex felt nauseous. Sweat was beading thickly on her forehead. This couldn’t be happening. In her job, she was supposed to be immune to such things, to such people, to such feelings. It just wasn’t acceptable. Professional detachment was expected. It was vital. And in spite of what she’d just promised to Jane’s mother, she had to get a grip and remember why she was here.
“Alex, you’ve gone all pale on me,” Jane said worriedly. “You okay? You look like you’re about to have an anxiety attack.”
Yes, I am, and I need you to take me in your arms and tell me that I’m not losing my sanity, that everything is okay. Alex blinked harshly to clear her mind, but the effort was futile. She took a drink of the warm, bronze liquid and tried to sound casual. “I’m fine. Sorry. We were talking about your father.” Alex desperately needed the conversation to be so not about her right now. “Did he want you to go into politics?”
Jane’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She finished off the rest of her drink and went for a refill. “More?” she asked without turning around.
“No, thank you.” It was a lie, she did want more of the calming elixir, but she needed to keep her wits about her.
Jane took a drink from her refilled glass, held it for a long, savoring moment before swallowing. She reclaimed her wing-back chair by the fire, and Alex followed her cue, still feeling slightly dazed, and sat in the matching chair.
Jane slowly brushed her hair from her shoulder, as if she were in no hurry to answer Alex’s question. She studied the contents of her glass in the flickering firelight. “My father . . . He always had grand designs for at least one of us to follow him into politics. I absolutely loathed the idea in the early part of my life.”
Alex felt disbelief. “You did? But . . .” Jane was so damn good at politics. A natural, as if she’d been born to do it.
Jane laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. Why would I fight something I seem so suited to?”
“Exactly.”
“My brother . . . he was two years older than me.” Jane took another long sip and stared into the fading fire, cloaked in her own private memories. “He was the anointed one,” she said, barely loud enough for Alex to hear. “But he died of leukemia when he was twenty-three.”
“I’m sorry.” Alex could hear the unmistakable grief in Jane’s voice, even after so many years.
“And my little sister was seven years younger than me . . . she was just a kid. So I became my father’s obsession.”
A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, leaving Alex to wonder if she should end the conversation, say goodnight. But then Jane suddenly laughed dolefully, her voice low.
“My lazy, aimless days ended in a hurry, that’s for sure. You see, the year before my brother died, I’d dropped out of college to travel around Europe. I was just basically a lazy, rich kid, going where I wanted, doing whatever pleased me, having affairs, drinking too much, smoking dope, hanging out with other aimless rich kids.” She took another drink, then looked up at Alex with an expression that was hard to read. “My brother was the rising star in the family . . . he was in law school before he died. He was playing the role of prodigy . . . the smart, ambitious kid who never disappointed. While he was getting all that attention, I could just kind of melt into the background. Do my own thing.” Jane took a deep breath. “Then, once he was gone . . . I couldn’t very well sit on my ass anymore and hide. There was suddenly this huge vacuum in the family, this role to fulfill. There was an unspoken, but very clear pressure, to take on that responsibility.”
Jane quieted again, studying the diminishing contents in her glass. Alex leaned closer.
“In the back of my mind, I had always wanted to be a doctor . . . some day. Like, way down the road, once I had my fun and grew up. After my brother died, I figured it was a way for me to make my parents proud without trying to emulate him. So I got on my horse and that’s what I did.”
“And your father was okay with your choice?”
“Yeah, he was okay with it, as long as I promised to consider politics eventually. But man, I resisted. Big time. No way was I going into politics. We argued and fought over it for years. I mean, I had my calling, you know?”
Alex drained her glass. “So, what made you finally do it?”
Jane’s faint smile turned bitter. She stared at the glowing embers. “Circumstances in my life changed. My husband died. I got disenchanted with my profession. Then my father died. All those awful things in quick succession. Suddenly, I had no harness on me. Nobody with any expectations of me. I could do whatever I wanted. I was totally free for the first time since just before my brother died.” She looked at Alex again, this time with resolve. Her right hand curled into a fist. “And that’s when I wanted it. Like I’d never wanted anything before. If I was going to make a difference in the world, I knew it had to be in the political arena.”
Alex stared, transfixed, delighted to see the familiar spark and fierceness in Jane. She felt awed and honored that Jane had just shared something so special with her. Was she becoming a friend, someone Jane could talk to, like Maria said? Oh, Lord. This is all so wrong, but I can’t seem to stop it. And I don’t want to stop it!
Jane stood up somewhat awkwardly. She smiled tiredly. “Alex, I’m sorry to have talked your ear off.”
Alex stood, too. She smiled, reached out and squeezed Jane’s arm affectionately, answering the urge to touch Jane in some silent seal of acknowledgement of what Jane had just shared with her. “I’m glad you did.”
Jane smiled again. “I’m glad, too. Alex?”
“Yes?”
“For some time now, I’ve felt I really do have a special talent for politics, a sort of gift with people. I know that sounds totally immodest of me, but I’m being truthful.”
“I know.”
“Alex, I really was born to do this. I’m doing what I was meant to do, even though I fought it for so long. I hope I convey that to people. That they don’t look at me as a phony, an opportunist. Someone just riding on daddy’s coattails.” She looked unsurely at Alex.
Alex swallowed around the lump in her throat, reminded of their moment in Philadelphia, when Jane had tearfully confided in her that she didn’t always feel worthy of her ambitions. Alex inherently felt such moments of human misgivings were very rare for Jane, and rarer yet for her to express them.
“Jane, you are not a phony. And you don’t ever come across that way. Just keep being yourself.”
Jane winked at Alex. “Whether I can do that on TV is the big question, isn’t it?”
Alex laughed. “Hey, with your looks and . . .” She felt herself blushing, and then her words got caught up in her throat. “Ah, I just mean . . .”
Jane laughed. “Oh, Alex. You don’t have to mean anything. I won’t take offense. You’re far too polite, you know.” She set her empty glass down on the nearby table. “Now, I do believe I’m well on my way to getting drunk. Will you help me up to my bedroom, or do you only reserve such special treatment for my mother?”
Alex dutifully began guiding Jane out of the room, smirking at the hint of jealousy in her voice. “Just show me the way, ma’am.”
Jane chuckled, shooting a wickedly flirtatious grin at Alex. “I didn’t know it would be so easy to get you to my boudoir.”
Alex gasped. “Did you just—”
Jane laughed, louder this time. “Yes, Alex, I just made an inappropriate joke. You’re not going to sue me for sexual harassment, are you? I dare say that would put an end to my campaign in one hell of a hurry.”
“What, and put myself out of a job? No way!”
Alex was still pleasantly buzzing from their joking when Jane beckoned her into her spacious bedroom. She closed the door behind them and leaned against it, her humor clearly gone. Alex felt nervous in the glare of Jane’s suddenly acute appraisal.
“Alex, I get a funny feeling at times that I make you uncomfortable. Do I?”
Alex reeled in surprise. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I think you do.” Jane moved to the four-poster bed and sat down on its edge. “I think I make you nervous for some reason.”
“You think so?” Oh, God, Alex thought, trying to buy time. Am I being that obvious? It felt like déjà vu all over again with her friend Kim’s pointed questions.
Jane sighed impatiently. “Okay. You drift off, Alex. You go to another place. You get all quiet and nervous on me. Just in these little flashes, and then you’re fine again. Have there been other threats against me? Is that it?”
“No,” Alex said quickly, surprised by Jane’s astuteness. “We’ve told you everything.”
Jane patted the bed beside her until Alex obediently sat down. “C’mon, Alex. I want to help make this better.”
Alex felt her body sag in defeat. She propped her elbows on her knees. You can’t help, Jane, not when you’re the cause of it!
An arm snaked around Alex’s shoulders and the warmth and intimacy of the one-armed embrace immediately weakened Alex’s resistance. It reminded her of the close contact they’d had in Philadelphia, when Alex had consoled Jane. Now it was the other way around.
“It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself.
“Dammit,” Jane snapped. “I knew it.”
Alex jumped up, suddenly needing to put distance between them. “I mean, no, that’s not what I meant.” She needed to set things straight—somehow.
“Alex, what have I done that’s upset you so?” Jane’s voice had turned soothing, like warm liquid. “Please. I want to know.”
“It’s me, not you.” Alex knew she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the anguish she felt. “I don’t feel I can protect you properly. That I can do a good job anymore.”
“What are you talking about, Alex?”
Alex leaned against a low, thick windowsill. Her heart was pounding like a freight train. Foot chases and armed takedowns had never been this hard, but it was too late now. Jane needed an honest explanation. “I’m not sure I can do this anymore. I’m going to ask for a transfer when we get back to Washington.”
“What?” Jane jumped to her feet, hands on her hips. Bewilderment was quickly morphing into anger. “What the hell is going on, Alex? Jesus Christ! Tell me this is a bad joke.”
Alex jammed jittery hands into her pockets. Now she’d done it. Gone and pissed Jane off, and in such a personal way. That’s twice in one day, Alex. “Jane, I . . .”
Jane stepped closer, her arms crossed over her chest. “This is not the confident, super-human Alex Warner I’ve come to know and rely on. Why are you wanting off my detail?”
Alex spoke haltingly. “I . . . I feel like I’m in way over my head, Jane.”
Jane’s expression softened. She dropped her arms. “Oh, honey.” It was spoken so naturally that Alex almost thought she hadn’t heard it. Honey? Alex soared at the endearing term. “Some days I feel like I’m in so deep, I can’t even see the sky anymore,” Jane said. “It’s normal in this business. You just have to trust that you’re doing what you were meant to do. Didn’t you tell me words to that effect in Philadelphia? And didn’t we just discuss that a few minutes ago downstairs? You’re good at what you do, Alex. Very good.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Jane. I have no choice.”
Jane tenderly touched Alex’s arm. “Honey, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. I can help you.”
“No, Jane. You can’t.” And if you keep calling me honey, I’m going to melt into a little puddle on the floor.
“Alex, I can fix anything.”
Alex was adamant. “Dammit, Jane. You can’t fix this. Don’t you know what I’m trying to tell you?”
Her feelings were bubbling so close to the surface now. Tears threatened and she shoved them down with sheer determination. Goddammit, I will not cry!
Jane cocked her head but said nothing.
“Jane, I’m too close.”
“To what?”
“To you. I care about you, more than I should. I care whether you’re doing well in the campaign. I care if you’re unhappy, or upset. I care what you think. What you feel. It’s affecting the way I do my job, it’s . . . I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore. I can’t think clearly.” An unwelcome tear slid down Alex’s cheek, and she angrily brushed it away. She hadn’t felt this out of control, this exposed, since Julia had left her more than four years ago.
Jane stepped closer until she was just inches from Alex. “Oh, Alex. I care for you, too. You’ve been there when I needed you. You’re always there, Alex. A rock. My rock.”
Jane reached up and unabashedly touched Alex’s cheek, brushing the wetness still there. Her caress was soft, tender, affectionate—everything Alex knew it would be, and she melted into Jane’s palm, nuzzling it, embracing the warm sensation coursing through her. She’d stopped breathing. Everything had stopped. All that mattered was the soft, warm fingers gently stroking her face, sending tiny jolts of electricity through her. My God, Jane.
And then Jane’s arms tightly threaded around her, and she clutched Alex tightly. “It’s okay to care, Alex,” she whispered into Alex’s neck. “I want you to care for me. If I thought you didn’t, I’d never feel safe with you. I’d never trust you. Don’t you see?”
Alex was silently choking back more tears, feeling numb in Jane’s arms. She was afraid to return the hug, afraid of needing it so badly. “No. You don’t understand. It makes me weak,” she rasped. “It could get us hurt. Killed.”
Jane pulled away abruptly, her face reddening with each pulse. “This is all my fault, Alex.”
Alex stood stunned as Jane rushed to an empty suitcase and began haphazardly throwing clothes into it.
“What are you doing?” Alex was quickly regaining her composure. This was not going well. Not going well at all!
“This wouldn’t be happening if we weren’t stuck here like hostages. I’m leaving, Alex. I’m going back to Washington, where we can forget all of this ever happened.”
“No, Jane. You can’t. I’m sorry, but you can’t go anywhere.”
Jane had that immovable look about her and Alex knew it was going to be a fight. “Yes, I can,” Jane ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m getting the fuck out of here, now, Alex. And you can’t stop me.”
She threw the half-filled suitcase to the floor and made a dash for the door, but Alex deftly jumped in front of her and barred the way.
