Page 4 of Campaign Season (By Design #18)

Chapter

Two

Pere Marquette River

Scottville, Michigan

Campaigning wasn’t Jameson’s favorite sport.

There was a reason people referred to certain elected leaders as political athletes.

Running for national office required more than charisma or clear messaging.

Becoming a successful candidate demanded mental sharpness, emotional toughness, and physical endurance. It was nothing less than a sport.

Her thoughts turned, as they often did, to Candace. Normally, Candace thrived in the chaos of campaign season. This year, though, it was Jameson who found herself enjoying the trail more.

Campaigning could be a long slog, but Michelle and Dana had made most of Jameson’s travels tolerable. Today’s event, however, felt different. Instead of a grind, it felt almost like a vacation.

The river's surface shimmered like fractured silver before Jameson and Aubrey Peters. Jameson inhaled the scent of pine and damp earth, savoring a fleeting taste of freedom. The rustling leaves couldn’t mask the murmurs of staffers managing the press pool across the bank.

Even from a distance, the faint click of camera shutters reminded Jameson that this was still a performance.

But here, standing hip to hip with a fishing rod in hand, she felt more like herself than she had in weeks.

She found Aubrey Peters refreshing. The Michigan State Representative carried herself with a rare authenticity—aware of her rough edges, smoothing them for public appearances without sanding herself down to nothing.

Their scheduled fishing trip had a purpose: to capture photos of the First Lady and a promising congressional candidate doing something relatable.

Usually, such stunts left Jameson counting the minutes. This one didn’t.

“Seems like you’ve done this before,” Aubrey commented.

“I have two brothers and a slew of outdoorsy cousins. Never got into hunting, but I seldom turned down a chance to camp or fish.”

“How does the president feel about that?”

Jameson chuckled. “Camping or fishing?”

“Either.”

“She’s not opposed. She grew up with two brothers, too. I think it’s the bugs that deter her more than the bait or the dirt.”

Aubrey nodded thoughtfully.

“Does that surprise you?” Jameson asked.

“No. I’ve never met President Reid. I suppose I’m curious.”

“About the president or about Candace?”

“Is there a difference?” Aubrey asked.

Jameson drew a slow breath as she cast her line again, the lure plunking into the current with a satisfying splash. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Truthfully?”

“It’s not about truth,” Jameson said. “Candace is the president. But the presidency demands things of her that no one can fully understand until they’ve taken the oath.”

“Do you wish she’d stayed governor?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Jameson smiled at her. “Really. It isn’t easy… living in the mouse house.”

“The mouse house?” Aubrey chuckled.

“My description, not hers.”

“You mean it’s like living in a cage.”

“Sometimes it is. A little.” Jameson adjusted her grip on the rod. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? The leader of the free world doesn’t enjoy much freedom.”

“Yeah. I can see that. I don’t think I’d want that job.”

“No?”

“No. I can’t imagine running for anything beyond this congressional seat.”

Jameson nodded, studying the way Aubrey’s line drifted across the current. The young woman wasn’t just making small talk; she meant it.

“I’m serious,” Aubrey said.

“I believe you.”

“But?”

“No ‘but,’” Jameson said. “I watched you earlier. People connect with you—not just with what you’re saying, but with you. That can’t be taught.”

“You sound like a campaign manager.”

Jameson laughed. “Hardly. I never had any interest in politics. I read the paper. I voted. But being in politics? No, thank you.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Aubrey teased.

“Clearly, not the way I planned.” Jameson grinned. “I like watching Candace with people. If I’m honest, I like meeting folks, too. But the spectacle? The nastiness? No thanks.”

“Yeah. It gets ugly. My parents were skeptical when I decided to run. I think they worry it’ll keep me from finding a husband and giving them grandkids.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Eventually. I won’t settle, though. I was with the same guy from my senior year of high school until two years ago.

Everyone assumed we’d get married once we both had careers established.

Then I ran for the State House. I put my law career on the back burner for a shitty paying, thankless job. That ended his foregone conclusion.”

“Uh-oh. He didn’t approve?”

“Oh, if he’d seen this in my future, he might’ve thought differently. But I didn’t see it either—not four years ago.”

“What changed?”

Aubrey reeled in her line and cast again, her brow furrowed. “Candace.”

Jameson tilted her head.

“I never thought I’d see a woman in the White House. That’s probably awful to admit, but it’s true. Men get a pass for things she’s pummeled for daily. It isn’t right, Jameson.”

"JD," Jameson said.

“JD?” Aubrey echoed.

Jameson smiled. “Everyone but Candace and Pearl calls me JD. Maybe it’s because I’m secretly always in trouble with them.”

Aubrey laughed. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Trust me. I’ve put them both through the paces. They hate my ladders and tree climbing.” Jameson shook her head. “It isn’t right—the double standard. Some of it’s gender, but a lot of it is Candace. She’s her harshest critic. Believe me.”

“I do. Watching her made me realize how important it is to have more women in leadership. And how badly we need people willing to do more than campaign constantly.”

“That’s the truth,” Jameson agreed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Can’t promise I’ll have an answer.”

“How do you handle being out here after what happened in New York?”

Jameson paused, fingers tightening slightly on the reel. She spun the line once, giving herself a moment to steady the lump in her throat. Across the bank, a camera shutter clicked like a woodpecker hammering against bark.

“I’m sorry. Too personal,” Aubrey said quickly.

“No.” Jameson’s voice was calm. “It’s an understandable question—from someone stepping onto the national stage.

The truth? It’s still hard. Harder than I let on.

” She glanced at the current carrying her line downstream.

“Candace isn’t prone to fear—at least not to letting it rule her.

She always says she’s ‘aware.’ I think that’s the best answer I can give.

It was eye-opening. You can’t live life expecting danger at every turn or suspecting everyone of wanting to harm you. ”

“Do you worry?”

“Sure. Who wouldn’t? I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear like that. I was stuck on an airplane. I don’t know what was worse, the fear or the helplessness.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine,” Aubrey said.

“It’s made her more determined,” Jameson remarked. “But coming that close to death? It’s also a reminder that we’re all living on borrowed time. Can I ask you something?”

“Seems fair.”

“Do you love it?”

“Huh?”

“Being in elected office—campaigning… aside from the bullshit, do you love it?” Jameson asked.

“Yeah. I do.”

Jameson felt a tug on her line.

“Shit! You have something,” Aubrey said, her eyes widening.

The pole bent sharply, the line singing as it cut through the current. Jameson planted her feet, the rod straining in her hands. “Oh yeah. That’s a fish.”

Aubrey scrambled closer, grinning like a child. “Big?”

“Feels like it.” Jameson’s arms flexed as she worked the reel, careful not to jerk. The steelhead fought hard, thrashing below the surface and sending ripples across the river. Camera shutters chattered in the distance, each click punctuating the moment.

“Don’t let it go!” Aubrey shouted.

Jameson chuckled through gritted teeth. “It’s not about brute force. You have to give a little when it runs—let it wear itself out. Then you reel it in, steady and patient.” She tugged, paused, let the fish surge, then reeled again.

A flash of silver broke the water, sunlight catching the arc of the trout as it leapt. Aubrey gasped.

“That’s a monster.”

Jameson’s smile widened. “Steelhead. They don’t give in easily. Grab the net!”

Aubrey seized the long-handled net, awkward at first, then steadied herself as Jameson worked the fish closer. “You’ve got it!” Jameson urged.

The trout thrashed once more, but Aubrey slipped the net beneath it and hauled it up, water spraying as the fish writhed, glinting like liquid metal. She laughed, exhilarated. “We did it!”

Jameson studied the fish for a moment before nodding for Aubrey to lower it to the shallows. Together, they freed the hook, Jameson’s hands guiding while letting Aubrey take the lead.

“Here’s the thing, Aubrey—politics is a lot like this,” Jameson said.

“You cast your line not knowing what’s out there.

You pick your bait, make your case, and sometimes all you reel in is weeds.

But once in a while, if you’re patient—if you know when to fight and when to give slack—you land something bigger than you ever imagined. ”

Aubrey glanced from the fish to Jameson, her expression caught between awe and thoughtfulness. “You think there’s something bigger out there for me?”

“I think you’d be a fool to rule it out.” Jameson smiled and nodded toward the river.

"You're going to let it go?" Aubrey asked.

"I am. He fought a hell of a battle. He's earned his freedom."

Together, they released the fish, watching it vanish with a flick of its tail.

“Don’t close yourself off, Aubrey," Jameson said. "You never know what’s waiting on the line.”

"Are you sure you don't want to be in politics?"

Jameson laughed. "I've learned a lot from being with Candace, not only about politics. There's always a time to push and pull, and there's always a time to let go."

"I'm surprised you didn't keep that fish."