Candidate: A Love Story (34 page)

From a PR standpoint, Kate’s work mind told her it was a resounding success. Not only because it made for good print—family affair, working class, upper class, all the key triggers were there—but also because it was genuinely good and progressive for a city she loved. Her personal mind, her heart, was a very different story. She was proud of her father and her brothers, she always was, but she had never been more proud of anyone in her life than she was of Grady at that moment.

He was so brave. He’d come out of the shadows, and allowed people to see him outside of his father or his wealth. She watched him shake hands and talk with people as they entered the new building and she wondered if this was the way he had to do it. Maybe he had to start in the background and slowly work his way into ownership, adulthood. Maybe that’s how everyone came of age, in his or her own way, at his or her own pace. She was certainly no expert, but in her own life she had learned to take her time, that all things arrived when they were supposed to.

Everyone had entered and was now touring the building. Kate stood from the bench she was sitting on just across the street. Her job was done, Mark had texted her his thanks and that he would see her on Monday, Election Day. Kate was free to leave, she felt good about her work.

Grady had not looked at her once during his speech, she hadn’t expected him to. There had been no phone calls, no texts even. The reveal of things he wanted kept private was too much for him, too much for their relationship. She knew that and her heart broke. Not along the same scar as it had when her marriage fell apart. This wound was different, deeper, because she thought she had known love with Nick, thought she had felt all of the feelings acted out and crooned over in song, but she hadn’t, she had never felt anything like what she felt with Grady. Buttoning up her jacket, Kate was certain she never would again. She suddenly wanted the warmth of her home, her couch, where she would heal this time, not fall apart, and move on. Life was good. She had done good work and her city was richer for it. Kate got in her car and went home.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

K
ate woke up on Wednesday, November 5th, with a headache that promised to only get worse as the day went on. She lay in bed staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long it would take, how many weeks, months, after today it would be before the pain eased. She knew it would never completely go away, but relief . . . when would that come? She already missed him, terribly, everything about him. It had only been two days—forty-eight hours—but her heart knew he wasn’t coming back. Not from this. Her phone buzzed on her nightstand and she snatched it up. Hoping, maybe. Nope, it was an email from Mark outlining today’s schedule. Technically she didn’t need to be there, Grady had certainly moved on and grown up. He no longer needed a babysitter, so Kate should be free to skip, but she would be there anyway to help Mark out, finish the job they’d started.

Kate swung her feet around and slid her feet into her slippers. It was time to get up, democracy had worked its magic last night, and her company was successful. They had been instrumental in re-electing a United States senator. That was huge, an accomplishment, Kate told herself. She turned the shower on and hoped by the time she was at her front door, leaving for the office, she would actually believe the bullshit she was feeding herself.

After she dressed, still thrilled to see all of her shoes in a closet instead of boxes, Kate watered her two plants, ate her oatmeal on the couch, and watched the early morning coverage. The same political talking heads groaning on about what happened on election night and how things would be different now that . . . blah, blah, blah. She’d never liked politics, the spectacle of it all, which was ironic, she knew, considering her job, but politics was different because, unlike celebrity, it pretended to be human, standing tall in expensive suits and promising things it knew it would never be able to deliver. Kate didn’t like the dishonesty, but she was good at her job. And once again as she grabbed her keys, she realized she needed to be good at something.

Later that same day, Senator Malendar stepped out of the back seat of a black sedan and asked his driver to wait. If Grady even agreed to speak with him, he wouldn’t be long, and chances were pretty high the newly re-elected senator would never even get the chance to say two words. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Still, no answer. The senator took a deep breath and went around the back of Grady’s house. He found his only son reclined on a wooden chaise with a cream-colored cushion. He had a coffee cup in one hand and a book in the other.

For a moment, the senator’s pride actually stopped him in his tracks. Grady had grown into a wonderful man. The frenzy of the election, the last-minute reveal, and the re-election win had all been a spin, but now things had settled. The senator was standing on the deck of a beautiful home, and for maybe the first time he saw his son as separate from himself. The man in front of him was solitary, of his own making, and his heart hurt, the pride was so strong. This wasn’t going to be easy.

He took the chaise next to Grady and looked out over the green rocky shore at a winter ocean, raging with nearly as much anger as his son. Grady didn’t look up. He set his coffee down and turned the page of his book.

“Do you have any more of that?” his father asked. Grady opened the small cabinet next to him and handed his father a cup. He pushed the French press across the round table between them, and both men sat in silence. The only sound was the occasional page turning.

“What are you reading?”

Grady looked at his father, no expression, and held up the cover.

“All right, that’s enough. Christ, it’s like you’re seventeen again and I took your phone.”

Grady raised an eyebrow, still saying nothing.

“We need to talk,” his father said, loosening the tie around his neck and unbuttoning his collar. Grady closed his book and set it on the table.

“There’s not much to say, Dad.”

“Well, I think there is.”

Silence again as both men looked ahead.

“We won.”

They both sipped their coffee.

“The election. We won,” the senator reiterated.

“I knew you would,” Grady said in a calm steady voice. “You always do,” followed no louder than a whisper.

The senator ignored it and tried to move forward. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re a huge part of this win, and you have my sincere gratitude, Grady.”

Grady laughed. “I don’t want it.”

“You don’t want what?”

“Your gratitude.”

“Oh come on.”

“What’s this about, Dad? You’ve won the election. I’m happy for you. Are you here because you feel guilty that you won that election on the back of my foundation?”

There was a pause as both men looked at each other.

“No, actually I’m fine with that. The discovery of your foundation did help, and I’m grateful, even if you don’t want it. Why would I feel guilty?”

“Because you have to take, touch, everything that is mine. Put it under your big bad senator umbrella until it’s yours.”

“That’s probably true.”

Grady was taken aback by his candor. “It is?”

“Yeah, your mother is forever telling me that I’m overpowering. I’m a—what the hell did she call me again? Oh, yeah, an eclipser. I shut people down. Kill their light.” The senator took a sip of his coffee. “I’m not sure I know how to be any other way.” He looked at Grady.

“Bullshit, you know exactly what you do, but oh boo hoo, you can’t help yourself? I’m not buying it. My whole life—it’s been this way for thirty damn years. Hell, even my girlfriends loved you. Shit, everyone loves you. Dad, it’s your thing.”

“You used to like that about me. Follow me around, remember when you went to school for career day as your dad?” The senator smiled waiting for a look from his son that might ease the lump in his throat. He stood and moved toward the edge of the patio.

“Oh, yeah,” Grady mocked, “was that before or after you screwed my favorite math teacher?”

The senator turned to face him. This conversation had been a long time coming, buried deep in the wall that had divided them since Grady was fifteen years old. “Well, hell, it must have been after,” Grady continued. “I was in high school when I came home and . . . do you remember that day, Dad?”

The senator said nothing.

“Probably the first and last time you were ever caught with your pants down, am I right?” Grady’s laugh was laced with such anger, so much disgust, that his father physically felt the squeeze of it. He poured some more coffee, hands a bit shaky, and sat back down next to Grady.

Silence hung between them for a beat.

“That was a mistake. I told you back then, but you didn’t want to hear me. You shut me out after that. I’m a human being, son. I fuck up just like everyone else. Did I not tell you that when you were growing up? Did I give you the impression that I was—”

“A good man? A committed husband? Yeah, you kind of did, Dad. At the very least, we all had the impression you were an honest and decent father that would never risk his son walking in on—”

“You were ditching class. You should have been at school.”

“Yeah, and I sure as hell never ditched again.”

“And I
am
a good man, committed husband and an honest father. I messed up. Made a mistake at a time in my life when mistakes happen. I was figuring things out and I took a wrong turn.”

“Pfft . . . you think? I mean on the desk and everything, Dad. I suppose now that I’m older, I should say, ‘Well done!’”

The senator turned on him so quickly, Grady started. His father held his arm and despite the years, Grady’s accomplishments, his own physical strength, he was a child again. Preparing to receive his punishment.

“Don’t you dare. I am still you father. I don’t owe you a damn man-to-man explanation. I messed up and I have apologized.”

Grady looked right into his face. “Did you ever tell Mom?”

His father returned his glare. “No.”

“Don’t you think that’s the honest thing to do?”

“No.”

“Too much of a scandal for the political career? Afraid she’ll leave you?”

“No.”

“No? Then why not clear the air, let her know you screwed a twenty-four-year-old teacher on your desk in the middle of the damn day. A teacher that you knew your son had a crush on. I mean shit, let’s get it out there if you’re such a decent guy.”

His father released his grip on Grady’s arm and sat back in the chaise.

“This has nothing to do with politics. Telling your mother, bringing her into my mess, serves no purpose. It was a long time ago, it was one time.”

Grady snickered and his father turned to look at him.

“It was one time,” he said slowly. “One lapse in judgment. She doesn’t need to know. It serves no purpose. I love your mother deeply. She is my best friend and I owe it to her to live with the guilt and prove myself deserving of her love.”

Grady’s head dropped.

“Which I have done. I am not a scumbag. It has taken me a very long time to get here, but I rest easy, Grady. I’ve forgiven myself and I’m wondering why you can’t do the same.”

Grady laughed. “Do you have any idea what it was like walking in on that, on you?” Grady stood up, suddenly restless and boiling with so many things he realized were not as simple as anger. He turned to his father. “I worshiped you. You were everything, and then you were just some cheating bastard, like the rest of them, with your pants around your ankles.”

The senator stood and walked toward him.

“Grady, we are not defined by one act in our lives. You can’t—”

“Oh Jesus, please don’t quote some inspirational poster from your campaign headquarters. You were, defined as you put it, in that moment for me. I was fifteen, Dad. Confused, awkward, and trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. That time wasn’t, shouldn’t have been, about you. I wanted you to be, needed you to be, a father. My father.” Grady looked at the man in front of him and despite all his best efforts, his eyes watered and the senator reached for him. Grady pushed his hand away. “Shit, I don’t know. It was just a blow.”