Page 4 of Revisions (By Design #17)

I laugh gratefully. Congressman Thomas Briggs won an unlikely seat in a predominately red district in Indiana. Many would call him a Blue Dog Democrat, although he doesn’t claim admission to any caucus. He’s a center-right Democrat who might have found a home in the Republican party of my youth. I like Tom. We disagree on some things. He’s a reasoned politician—someone who wants to get things done. He knows that passing lasting legislation takes time. He also understands there is a need for fighting, silence, and compromise. His reelection is seen by most as an uphill battle. A few of his advisers counseled him to keep a distance from me. Tom understands something political wonks who focus on polls and the press don’t. Everyone knows he’s more aligned with me than he is opposed to my policies. As Luke pointed out, Indiana may not be Reid Country, but I have more enthusiastic supporters than any poll reveals. Tom knows that. Avoiding me risks alienating them. And he needs them to show up on election day.

“Thankfully, Tom seems to know to keep his hands to himself,” I say.

“Mm. Didn’t he have a crush on you?”

I laughed. “Stop.”

“He wanted to be First Lady. I think his wife told me that.”

“Jameson!” I laugh harder. “You really are a lunatic.”

“Well, I am committed.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Who pissed you off today?”

I sigh.

“Candace?”

“No one. The American Brethren are planning to protest at Tom’s rally.”

“I heard.”

“You did?” I ask.

“Yeah. Shell called me in a snit about an hour ago.”

“That might explain Luke’s suggestion.”

“Don’t tell me. He wanted you to skip it?”

“Okay. I won’t tell you,” I reply.

Jameson sighs.

“Jameson?”

“You can’t skip it,” Jameson says.

“But you wish I would.”

“Sure. You wish you could, too.”

I chuckle.

“Ryan would have told you if he thought you needed to change your plans.”

“I know.”

“That isn’t why you called. Do you want to talk about it?” Jameson asks.

“Lawson.”

“You mean Laura.”

“Can I separate the two?” I ask.

“No. Not really. Candace, you can’t keep beating yourself up for what that asshole says and does. I know you want to protect Laura. She knows that. You can’t. All we can do is remind her that we love her. You know this.”

“He fans the flames, Jameson. Lawson is determined to make life miserable for me. I can deal with that. Laura?—”

“Knows who her father is,” Jameson says. “Call Grant.”

“What?”

“Call Grant. It will make you feel better.”

Jameson’s suggestion shouldn’t surprise me. It has taken her time to accept Grant Hill as an extended part of our family. I can’t blame my family for their initial skepticism about Grant and his intentions. My breakup with his mother left scars on all my children. And Grant’s conservative upbringing and political affiliation didn’t inspire immediate trust. I’ve always understood the conflict between Grant’s heart and his mind, as it battles endlessly with reason.

For a long time, my kids held animosity towards my ex, Jessica. The publicity surrounding her infidelity made them perceive her affair in isolation—as though it were the sole reason for our breakup. I never doubted that Jess loved me. Living with me proved more challenging for her than she had anticipated. It wasn’t my kids or the caustic comments my mother made under her breath that widened the distance between us. My kids were older, concentrating on school and friends, while my focus narrowed in on my career. The media and political chatter intensified about my possible run for governorship, cabinet positions, and even a future bid for the White House. My time was in constant demand, which meant I received constant attention. Jessica struggled with jealousy, and the truth is, I didn’t pay close enough attention to her insecurities. If I was idealistic about anything, it was our relationship.

Coming out as a lesbian in my forties to my family was stressful. My public profile only heightened the anxiety. Jess and I didn’t publicly acknowledge our relationship for nearly a year after I came out. Jonah was still in junior high school and faced the brunt of the fallout, mostly teasing from his peers. Despite the stress and upheaval of revealing to my family and the world that I was a lesbian, I ultimately felt a sense of relief. I didn’t realize the weight I had been carrying until it was lifted. Jess was wonderful—supportive and patient. I thought we would conquer the world together; for a time, it felt that way. A million things impact a relationship, and if you aren’t paying attention, they can add up to destruction.

We both had high-pressure jobs. I had the kids, and then Grant found Jessica. She told me about the baby she placed for adoption and how she often wondered about him. She never expected Grant to reach out to her, and in some ways, his entrance into her life amplified her insecurities. His adoptive parents were conservative Christians, openly opposed to the idea of same-sex relationships, abortion, and climate change. It was tough for Grant and painful for Jess. He wanted Jess in his life—wanted us in his life—but he feared his parents’ rejection. She carried so much guilt about her decision to place him for adoption, and even more guilt because her sexuality and the notoriety of our relationship created conflict for him. Those insecurities manifested in unexpected ways, creeping between us. She was close to my kids—to Shell most of all. Grant didn’t want anyone but us to know he’d reached out. Jess felt like keeping it a secret from my kids was a betrayal. She worried about how they’d react if and when they learned about Grant. She also worried about how that might affect me. There were so many questions and conflicts raging within her. I wasn’t paying attention—not the way I should have. I don’t believe Jess was seeking comfort from another woman. I think, subconsciously, she hoped to sabotage our relationship. It hurt us both. It hurt the kids. And it also hurt Grant.

Grant reached out to me about a year after Jess and I ended our relationship. He had been working at Family Values International for a few years and quickly climbed up the ranks. Lawson Klein had just taken over as the media director. Klein’s fixation on me raised red flags for Grant, prompting him to send me information about FVI’s political research and strategies. I tried to persuade him to leave the organization. His father had close connections with Lawson and Glenn Stanley, one of the founders. Grant wanted to please his parents while remaining true to his beliefs. I’ve often wondered if accepting his help was the right thing to do. He is as persistent as his mother.

“Candace?”

“Sorry.”

“I lost you for a minute,” Jameson says.

I sigh.

“You know Grant will help any way he can.”

“I know. I hate it, Jameson.”

“What do you hate?”

“Keeping him at arms’ length.”

“Then don’t.”

“You know how much resistance there is in my administration to Grant’s involvement—publicly.”

“Since when do you care about resistance?” Jameson asks me.

“I don’t. I care about how it affects him.”

I hear Jameson sigh.

“Candace, you can’t continue to carry this guilt about Grant and his parents. He loves you and Jess. I don’t care what their political beliefs are; they should be able to understand how he feels.”

“It’s not just that. Jameson, my presence complicates his relationship with Jess. It always has.”

“No. Their bigotry complicates his relationship with Jessica and you. That isn’t on you or Jessica. Don’t say a word,” Jameson tells me. “I understand you better than even you give me credit for. I know you want to find the best in everyone—to believe there’s a way to bring people together. It’s one reason I love you. But you know you can’t force people to change. Grant’s parents are who they choose to be.”

“They’re a product?—”

“Of their upbringings?” Jameson asks. “Sure. My mom and Uncle Jerry grew up in the same house with the same parents. They attended the same church. Jerry chooses to be hurtful. Maybe he believes all the things that come out of his mouth. I can’t say. And while I know you don’t believe me, I don’t care. I did. For a long time, I wondered how to make him accept me. I thought there must be a way to make it easier for my mom—easier for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. How do you think I felt when he took to the airwaves to try to hurt your candidacy?”

“Jameson, you know there wasn’t anything you could do to?—”

“Ah-ha.”

I laugh. “Point taken.”

“Look, things with Grant and his parents have caused you all pain—you, Jessica, and Grant. I understand more than you think I can. Klein making a run for the White House, these hate groups winding people up—it’s another reminder of that time in your life. I get it. It takes you back to losing Jessica. And it also makes you think about your mom.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Not to anyone but Pearl and me. Grant has accepted that he can’t change his parents. You need to follow his lead, Candace. If you want him to come back as an adviser, ask him. That’s your choice. Trust him to make his.”

“Are you sure you don’t want my job?” I tease.

“I’d be impeached inside of a week, Candace.”

“Lunatic.”

“I love you, Candace. But I think you might need to look in the mirror.”

“Are you calling me crazy?”

“Yes. Only a lunatic would ask for that job,” Jameson says.

I laugh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I miss you.”

“That’s just because you’re headed to the Bible Belt.”

“Jameson!”

Jameson chuckles. “Hey, I tell it like I see it. Call Grant.”

“I will.”

“Good. Call Jess, too, while you’re at it.”

“Jess?”

“Yes, Jess. Candace, you need someone outside this loop to talk to. Cassidy is part of the administration now. You need someone who isn’t in your political life—someone outside this?—”

“Mouse house?” I ask lightly. I hear Jameson cough. “Mm. I know you feel trapped sometimes.”

“So do you.”

“Fair,” I agree.

“Don’t second guess your instincts,” Jameson says. “You’ve wanted to bring Grant back for a while. You need his help. And he wants to help.”

Jameson is right. My hesitation isn’t because I fear resistance from those closest to me. I worry about Grant. I’m aware that people in my administration think Grant left his role as an adviser because of the pressure exerted on me. He left because I didn’t want his position or relationship with me to strain his relationship with his parents further. I could silence opposition to his presence when I was in a room. Tamping down the skepticism and negativity he experienced outside my office proved difficult.

“Candace?”

“I know you’re right.”

“And I know you want to protect him. You want to protect all of us. We’ve been through this. We all need to feel we can protect you . If it makes you feel better, Shell is back. She may have initially questioned Grant’s motives; she loves him. There are different dynamics around you now.”

“Thank you.”

“Mm. If you’re still on the fence when we hand up, look in the top righthand drawer of your desk,” Jameson says.

“Did you leave me something?”

“Just open the drawer when we hang up if you’re still wrestling with this.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jameson promises.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll have Coop call you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you, Jameson.”

I hate ending our call. I look at the drawer of my desk and slide it open slowly. I’m surprised to see an envelope addressed to me. I’m curious If Jameson left me scripture to study or if she’s warning me to expect a remodel of the White House.

You thought I left you another fortune cookie.

I did.

If you want your fortune told, look in your briefcase.

I chuckle.

I know you have a million things on your plate and a billion more on your mind. It hasn’t been easy the past few months. You always amaze me. You can handle anything that comes your way. I believe that. Don’t let anyone make you second guess your instincts. You never make a decision without considering everyone’s perspective and all the facts you have before you. But in the end, you’ve been successful because you understand people. Your gut tells you how they are likely to respond to your decisions. I see it with the kids. I even see it in Bible Study.

Lunatic.

I felt the tension from you last night. Trust you, Candace.

I love you more than anything.

Jameson.

I close my eyes and slip the note back into the envelope. Jameson says I amaze her. Laughable. She surprises me daily—in the best of ways. That began when I opened the door to find her standing on the porch. I can only imagine my expression.

It’s interesting; people often ask Jameson what she thought and felt when she met me. I’m always touched by her heartfelt recounting of that day. People seldom ask me what I thought when Jameson landed on my doorstep. I confess I assumed JD Reid was a man. I shouldn’t have. That assumption was made because JD was Steve Russo’s best friend. The moment Jameson smiled, I lost my heart. I’m sure most people would think that’s a romantic retelling. I assure you it isn’t.

I’ve met many people who exude confidence, poise, fear, or insecurity. But I’ve encountered only a few whose authenticity radiates through their smile. Finding a partner to share your life isn’t easy for anyone. Having a public persona often complicates that. My career and public profile never concerned Jameson. She saw me from the moment we met. Jameson accepts people as they are and meets them where they are. Her only expectation of me is honesty. That’s all it’s ever been. And I value hers more than any words could express.

I take a deep breath and place the call I’ve avoided. “Hi, Grant.”