Authors: Mary Whitney
“Well, sure, but I always consider the little sliver I have of Sonoma County as kind of sleepy place. Nothing much goes on here. It’s like a throw-back to another era.”
“Do you know how offensive you’re being at the moment?” she asked with a burst of laughter.
“Hey, didn’t you call your constituents ‘hicks’ the last time we talked?”
He added a wink at the end, and she desperately wanted to swat his arm for it. “That was a joke, and you know it.”
“Maybe so.” He smiled. “I didn’t mean to be offensive either. I just meant things still work well here. I don’t hear too much about it. Obviously, I need to tell my staff to refer your calls to me because there are pressing issues here that I’m missing.”
“Possibly.”
He leaned a little closer to her—not enough to raise a passerby’s eyebrows, but close enough for Lily to smell the soap he’d used that morning. His voice was teasing. “So, is that one of your talking points when you go negative on me?”
She stopped a smile as she shook her head because her worst fears were taking place before her eyes. He was flirting with her while talking about the campaign. It didn’t feel like he was trying to trip her up, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. With a shrug, she snapped back, “It’s an honest criticism.”
“Easily explained away.”
“Whatever.” She narrowed her eyes and taunted him. “I won’t have to use it because I won’t need to go negative.”
“Oh you won’t? You’re predicting you’ll win, or you think Charles is going to leave the rest of us in the dust.”
“Either one.”
“Is that so? Because either one applies to me as well.”
“So cocky…” she said with a slow shake of her head.
“Does it come off that way?” His tone changed to a more earnest one.
“A little.
And
I remember your Stanford cap.”
His lips drew up into a smile, as he eyed her as he was calculated. After a moment, he asked, “So that negative campaign you’re going to end up running against me. You know I have the perfect response.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“When you say I’ve been ignoring Sonoma County, I can say that the area is represented by such accomplished and effective county supervisors like yourself that you don’t need me.”
“Now what does that get you?”
“Well, I think I just got a smile from you.”
She looked down and shook her head. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
“That’s too bad.”
As they shared a smile, Lily once again felt that same giddy anticipation she had when he flirted with her. It was a feeling of warmth and fun, and a special excitement otherwise lost from her life. His hazel eyes lit up with mirth, like an invitation to dance with him. She took a deep breath, because she knew if she wasn’t who she was and he wasn’t who he was, she would gladly take his hand.
Her better—or at least her more cautious and realistic—angels fought to be heard as a small voice uttered one question inside her head.
Why? Why is he doing this?
All of Jordon’s warnings came back to her. She had nine months before the primary the following June. If she kept up this flirty banter with him for nine months, at a minimum it would distract her from her goal. At worst, he’d use it against her. Regardless, it would be a problem, and there was no reason for her to be running for Congress if she couldn’t handle herself around another candidate. Things needed to change.
Her smile faded as determination set in. Speaking up for her better angels, she called the question. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have some kind of grand plan with this flattery?”
“No…”
“Are you
sure
you don’t have an agenda?” She raised an eyebrow.
“What are you getting at?” His expression had changed from playful to one of concern.
“I don’t know…” She intentionally trailed off her voice, though it was obvious there was no confusion in her thoughts. She was on a mission to find out what his intentions were with her. “It just seems odd for you to be flirting with another candidate.” Her eyes bore into him. “Why are you doing it?”
“Uh…” He took a step away, both physically and mentally taken aback. “Well, I would say that we met under a different circumstance than the one we find ourselves in now.”
“True, but things
have
changed.”
“Yes, but there’s no reason we can’t be friendly with each other.”
“You want to be my friend?
That’s
the reason why?”
“What other reason would there be?”
“You could have another agenda.”
“Do you think I’m messing with you? I’m being deceitful?” He asked the questions, but his voice was full of realization he’d hit upon what she was getting at.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know you. I just know it’s not a good idea that you’re saying these things to me.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe her words. “I suppose I can see what you’re insinuating, but let me tell you, that’s not the case.”
“Really?”
“I …” He stopped and stared at her. When he spoke again, it was in awkward exasperation. “I don’t have an agenda. I’m not trying to screw you over somehow. I enjoy talking with you—just like I did when we first met, and I thought you did too. I’m sorry if I got carried away.”
His words touched Lily’s heart. She wanted to believe him because she liked talking with him also, but if she took what he said as the truth, it simply conjured up a whole new set of problems. She glanced out the window for a moment and again hardened herself to her goal. She was running for Congress to win—not to find a guy.
She looked back up and said flatly, “Regardless of how we met, I’d appreciate it if you treated me just as you would any other candidate.”
Jack’s nose twitched as if he’d heard something annoying. “I’m friendly with everyone.”
Lily hated being caught in a circular argument, and a circular situation was even worse. Already frustrated by her predicament, the irritation in his voice bothered her even more. When she saw Jordan step out from the double doors and wave her inside, she lost her patience altogether. She glared at Jack and muttered, “Then on second thought, you should treat me differently. Don’t be friendly to me at all. It will be better for both of us.”
With a quick turn, she headed straight to the doors where Jordan stood with an impatient scowl. Though Jack’s voice rose behind her, “Lily…,” she didn’t look back.
***
After the event, Jack stood outside speaking with members of the Del Norte Chamber of Commerce who had driven down from Crystal City. The conversation flowed easily, and Jack felt he was making headway with them. No thought of Lily entered his mind at all. He had a unique ability to divorce negative feelings from his drive to win. At that moment, his entire concentration was focused on showing the man and woman in front of him that a San Francisco liberal could understand the concerns of rural California.
As he spoke about recent bills in the state legislature, a soccer ball rolled up to where they stood. For over twenty-five years, Jack had played soccer and still continued to play a pick-up game a few times a month. His movements around a soccer ball were as innate to him as walking. When the ball rolled up, the two others immediately took note, by first glancing down at the ball and then looking for its owner.
Jack paid little heed. A glimpse of the ball caused him to react as if a stranger had accidentally bumped into him from behind. He responded without interrupting a second of his speech. His right foot trapped the ball, and his left firmly kicked it away. He didn’t look around or miss a beat as he spoke.
Less than a minute later, the ball returned to the threesome, and he again was the only one not to find its owner, though this time his eyes drifted downward in curiosity as to what was at his feet. The sight of a rogue ball was second-nature to him, so he didn’t think twice about another kick off to the side. He knew he’d sent it off with a force that ensured it wouldn’t return.
When the ball came back, swift and hard, it hit him on the right foot. The speed and strength behind the ball was enough to shift his attention along with that of his companions. It wasn’t a stray ball rolling around the grass—someone had intentionally passed it to him. Though he was in dress shoes, he reacted as he would on the field if one of his teammates had playfully sent him a ball. With his left foot, he moved the ball just far enough behind him so he could kick it up to his hands. After his little kick, the couple from Del Norte laughed and complimented him, while he looked for the ball’s owner.
Twenty feet away from him stood a young boy dressed in a shiny yellow soccer uniform, with long yellow socks and muddy cleats. Jack smiled and lifted the ball toward him. “This yours?”
“Yes,” the boy answered eagerly. “You’re good. Will you play with me?” A few seconds passed before he quickly added a “please” as if he’d remembered his manners.
Jack tossed the ball to the boy and laughed—as did the couple from Crystal City. They said they should let Jack go and talk to other people. Shaking their hands, he said goodbye and turned around. The crowd from the event had dwindled to only a few, and he’d spoken with most of them. He spotted the boy again, who seemed to have resigned himself to playing alone as he slowly dribbled the ball.
“Hey!” Jack called. “Do you still want to play?”
The boy turned and grinned. “Sure!”
Spying some stairs near the boy, Jack walked over to the railing and hung his sport coat over it. He rolled up his sleeves and turned to the boy. “I’m not wearing my cleats, so you need to give me a break.”
“That’s okay.” He kicked the ball over to Jack.
Once again trapping the ball underneath his foot and flicking it up to catch it, he walked over to the boy and extended his hand. “My name is Jack Bengston. What’s yours?”
“Luke Harris.” Still smiling, he shook Jack’s hand. “Can we play now?”
“Sure.” Jack chuckled. He looked off into the distance. “But where are your parents?”
Luke pointed to a bench where an elderly man sat reading a newspaper. “That’s my grandpa. We’re waiting for my mom.”
“Okay.” Jack nodded to the bench. “Why don’t you introduce me to him?”
The request for an introduction wasn’t motivated by Jack’s desire for a potential vote. He simply wanted permission to spend time with the boy.
Jack followed Luke to the bench where the man was engrossed in
The Wall Street Journal
. He heard Luke say something to the man, but Jack didn’t understand it and the man didn’t move, so Jack extended his hand. “Hello, sir. My name is Jack Bengston. I’ve met your grandson, and he asked me to kick the ball around with him. Is that all right with you?”
Whether it was from failed hearing or his concentration on the paper, the man startled when Jack spoke. “Ah! I’m sorry. I didn’t catch all of that. At my age…,” he said with a thick accent. He smiled and shook Jack’s hand. “I’m Pablo Robles. You’ve met my grandson?”
Jack smiled because he didn’t want to admit that he also hadn’t caught the man’s name. The man’s accent was simply strong, and Jack was distracted wondering about the exact lineage of this fair-haired boy and this dark, Latino man.
Bouncing with excitement, Luke interrupted the conversation. “Please, Abuelo. Can we go play on the field over there?”
The grandfather responded in Spanish and pointed toward the field, and Luke replied in Spanish as well. Jack’s knowledge of the language was limited, but when the man waved them goodbye with a smile, he saw they’d received his blessing.
Jack nodded. “Thank you, sir. We won’t be long.”
The grandfather nodded and returned his attention to the paper.
As they kicked the ball around the field, Jack asked Luke about his team and how long he’d been playing. He would’ve asked more questions, but Luke was focused solely on the ball. He’d comment on their play and occasionally ask Jack to stop and show him how to do a maneuver.
Twenty minutes after they’d been on the field, Jack was jockeying with Luke for control of the ball when he heard a familiar voice call out, “Luke!”
Luke didn’t stop and stole the ball from Jack, but Jack turned to look toward the voice. There was Lily, standing with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
Jack turned back to Luke. “Hey, is she your mother?”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna stop playing,” he answered, not looking up from the ball.
“You have to.”
Jack looked again at Lily who glared like she might lunge and take him out. He once happened upon a mama grizzly with her cubs in Glacier National Park. For a split second, that same feeling of fear came over him. Only this time, it wasn’t a mortal fear, but rather one of disappointment. He feared Lily thought he was ingratiating himself to her by hanging out with her son.
Wanting to correct the notion immediately, he approached her. “Hi. Sorry about this. Luke is your son?”
She glared at him. “Yes, he is. What are you doing with him?”
Jack held up his hands in surrender and confessed everything. “Listen. Lily. I had no idea he was your son. He asked me to play soccer with him, and I asked where his parents were. He said he was waiting for his mother, but his grandfather was right over there.” He pointed to the bench and took a breath. “I introduced myself to the man and asked if it all right. He said yes, so we’ve just been kicking the ball around for the last few minutes.”
“Aw, Mom…” Luke whined from a few feet away.
They turned to Luke who slowly dribbled the ball over to them. He grumbled with a pout. “I was just having fun. Jack is really good. He taught me some things.”
She smiled, but was firm. “It’s okay, but we need to leave for your game. Go over and get your bag from Abuelo.”