ITH Ch 20

Inside This House

Chapter 20

The room was electric with emotion, tensions running high in some groups that were still waiting for results, the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat reigning in others. It was no secret to anyone that Kennedy's race had been closely watched from the beginning. She knew it was daring to run an extremely controversial candidate against a well-established incumbent, and so she tried to put it all in a place of ambivalence. She had been a long shot, and despite the positive polls, deep inside she wondered if a gay female half-Comanche with a history of drug and alcohol abuse and a sealed juvenile record, no matter how reformed, really had a chance at all.

People, however, had proven to be fickle and if they were bored, or worse, disgusted with the status quo, they were apt to do unpredictable things. There was unhappiness everywhere. Gas prices were rising. Jobs were disappearing. An unpopular war was raging, sucking up precious resources. Traffic in Austin was maddening and housing costs were rising, boosted by transplanted citizens from other states who had discovered the Texas hill country looked an awful lot like some of the nicer parts of California.

The beloved hills Austinites flocked to for hiking, biking, and general recreating were fast being conquered by housing subdivisions, and nowhere was that blight upon the land more evident than the district Kennedy lived in. At one time there had been an un-marred view of the Austin hills from her home. Now those hills were blanketed with development. Her opponent favored that development, claiming it would boost the economy. Kennedy urged the city and the county to set limits to and, in some areas, cessation of issuing building permits, in order to preserve the natural beauty and resources so many citizens held dear. It was all about to come together, and they would find out which faction had the greater support.

The support for Kennedy, in and of itself, had been surprising at first, to Kennedy most of all, and overwhelming as time went by. Equally surprising had been the venomous verbiage flung at her based solely upon her sexual orientation. The motto "Keep Austin Weird" seemed all out of keeping with a place that would support even a small minority of bigots; however, some extremely conservative citizens chose to live in the most liberal city in Texas, for whatever reason. They were small in number, but quite vocal. She would be glad to be past the election and the daily dealings with zealots. If she won she'd still have to cross paths with them, but perhaps they would at least tire of camping outside her house and save their protests for the capitol building steps.

Kennedy had let it roll off her back, like so much water. She'd dealt with hatred and discrimination most of her life. Even before she had come out of the closet, she'd faced the cruel remarks by class mates regarding her ethnic skin tone and background. Taking it too much to heart led to misery, and the older she got, the more she'd taken a 'fuck 'em' attitude, choosing to let her success and accomplishments speak for her. Now -- a small smile tugged at her lips -- now she also had love. They could bite her.

Those in the party that had staked everything on her winning, however, had been beside themselves, wondering at times if they had made a critical error. Besides the homophobes, there was the Christian right and simply men who did not believe a woman should hold political office, to contend with. Kennedy knew more than one of her original supporters wished they'd gone down a different road.

Ah, well, she sighed, making her way to the scrolling marquee. She'd done her best, or, more correctly, the best she was willing to do without actually becoming a politician. If she won, she would let her record speak for her in the same way she had let her life, generally, speak for her. Playing games with grown men and women jockeying for position while pretending to care about the people who had elected them was not her idea of a good time.

Near the marquee was a flat screen television, which hadn't been on earlier. Now it was tuned to a local news cable channel and appeared to be carrying all election returns, all the time, switching back and forth between national race results, state ones, and local contests. As Kennedy watched, Carson stood next to her, her hand resting lightly on Kennedy's shoulder. Kennedy had her hands shoved in her trousers pockets, plastering on her best disinterested expression. Inside, she was one giant anxious knot. More than anything else, she just wanted it to be over, one way or the other.

Katie appeared at her side and patted her arm. "Hey, Shea. Sorry we didn't get to talk earlier. Juggling two babies who can't walk yet seems to take up nearly all my time these days, even when I'm supposed to be on vacation." She smiled. "But I wouldn't trade them for anything."

"They're beautiful." Kennedy smiled back at her. "So are you. Parker and I were just discussing earlier that we must be the envy of the entire room."

"Did he really say that?" Katie looked over at her husband, who was standing in a corner talking with Joseph and Pete.

"Yes, he really did." Kennedy followed her gaze and frowned, the knot in her gut tightening. She was glad Pete's back was to her. She wasn't in the mood to make eye contact just yet. One nerve-racking situation at a time was enough.

"I know this is going to sound crazy, but it's really nice, after five kids and the inevitable stretch marks, to know your husband still feels that way enough to tell someone else about it." Katie looked down, smoothing the front of her dress. "You know, your folks are so proud of you. So am I. And I think Parker is about to bust the buttons off all his dress shirts."

"I haven't done anything yet," Kennedy objected.

"You're running a competitive campaign at the state level, Shea. No one in your family has done anything like that." Katie peered past Kennedy at Carson, who was watching the election returns, her head held high. She leaned over, speaking low so that only Kennedy heard her, "Someone else is real proud of you, too."

Kennedy felt the heat of her own blush. "She should be. This is as much her race as it is mine. Without her support I would've quit a long time ago."

"You talking about me like I'm not here again?" Carson nudged her.

"I always know when you're in the room with me." Kennedy impulsively grabbed Carson, hugging her to her side and keeping her there, just as district forty-eight scrolled across the screen.

"And now, for the results in a local contest that made national headlines," the announcer glanced at a teleprompter. "With all polling places reporting and accounted for, the winner of the district forty-eight seat in the Texas House of Representatives, with an overwhelming sixty-three per cent of the vote, is Democratic challenger Kennedy Nocona. Incumbent Roy Sanderson has not been reached yet for comment, but with a landslide like that, concessions will hardly be necessary. And now, moving on to races in the Rio Grande Valley, where the hot button is the border wall --"

She felt numb. "Did I -- did he just say --?" Her words were cut short, as Carson turned, grabbing her in a hug, both arms flung around Kennedy's neck.

"You didn't just win, babe, you kicked him in the behind and mopped the floor with him." Carson looked up and letting her guard fly out the window, found Kennedy's lips and kissed her senseless for a long moment.

"Um --" Kennedy pulled back, licking her lips, her forearms bracketing Carson's head and resting on her shoulders. She grinned and leaned down, touching foreheads with her. "I think we just made the front page of tomorrow's Austin-American Statesman."

"Oh, sorry." Carson closed her eyes. Kennedy could feel her shaking, then felt a touch to her back. "Mr. Nocona." Carson released her hold on Kennedy. "Go on. He must be dying to hug you. I'm just glad he's willing to share you with me. Ooff." Joseph grinned and grabbed both of them, one in each arm, as cameras clicked all around them.   Carson glanced up, smiling. Joseph had a handsome profile, with high cheek bones and a perfect nose that he'd passed on to his daughter. His dark hair, streaked with a dignified shade of gray, was pulled back in a neat braid that hung down his back. She leaned over to Kennedy, who met her halfway. "No, now we've made the front page of the Statesman."

"You." Joseph spoke to a shy reporter standing to the side. "You want the real story here?" The reporter pointed at his own chest and Joseph laughed. "Come on over here. These two -- this is your story. In the spring, I'm going to give my daughter's hand to this lovely woman on my other side. Not once, but twice, once here and once in Canada, because they aren't allowed to marry in this country. I've been married to the same woman for thirty-eight years, and I love her more now than I did the day I met her. These two share that same kind of love. It's no different than me and my wife. Love is love. That's your story. Go tell it."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The reporter stepped aside, directing a photographer to take a few photos of the three.

Kennedy spotted Chip across the floor, jumping up and down like a little kid as he spoke excitedly with a gaggle of more reporters and other party officials. Looking past the ring of cameras, she took in the entire room. So many hopes and dreams all in one place. It was beginning to weigh down on her, and then an even heavier weight settled squarely on her shoulders, as her eyes fell on Pete, who held her gaze, his expression somber. Perhaps he was contrite.

Perhaps not.

"Excuse me." Kennedy disengaged herself from her father and Carson. "I have some business to settle." Squaring her shoulders, she approached her younger brother, her stride steady and resigned. "Hello, Pete."

"Hi, Shea." Pete looked as if he wanted to look away, his face on her, his eyes flickering a bit. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." She shoved her hands in her pockets, looking down for a moment and collecting her thoughts. "I'm not sure I have anything to say to you." She looked up, her eyes cold. "But two people I respect a great deal believe my soul will be damaged if I don't hear you out, whatever it is you have to say."

"Shea, I --"

"Hold on." She held up a hand. "I’m not finished. Here's the thing. You know and I know that you left me, and more importantly, Carson, for dead a year ago. I don't forgive that easily, and it's likely for that, there will be no forgiveness. Frankly, I'm not inclined to believe a word you say. As far as I'm concerned, if your lips are moving, you're likely lying."

"Shea, please. I --"

"Eh-eh-eh." She shook a finger back and forth near his face. "If you're expecting me to be proud of you for joining the Army, think again. My pride or anyone else's doesn't matter. What matters is, are you proud? Are you, Pete?" She could tell he wanted to bolt, but she forged on. "Are you truly proud of that uniform you're wearing, because a lot of people have sacrificed their lives for this country wearing it. It deserves honor and respect. It's not something to be mocked or used for personal gain. So if you're just playing GI Joe to get back in Mama and Pa's good graces, then we don't have anything to say to each other."

"Shea, I’m not --"

"No. Not just yet." She spoke as forcefully as she could, without shouting. "I have a few matters to take care of, so you have some time to think. If you're truly proud of that uniform and what it stands for, meet me out on that balcony in thirty minutes. But if you're here just to blow sunshine up my ass so you can feel better about yourself, go on and have a nice life. If I go out there in a little while and you're there, we'll talk. If you're gone by then, we'll both know the truth. I won't even say anything to the family about it, it'll be our little secret. We both know the risks of war, or at least I sure hope you do. If you go out and get yourself killed, I refuse to feel guilty because I didn't forgive you for almost getting me and the person I love most in the world killed. Got me?"

"Y - yeah." Pete drew a heavy breath, obviously hoping she was finally finished.

"Fair enough." Kennedy could see a few photographers swimming in her peripheral vision. "I'll be on that balcony in thirty minutes. The question you need to ask yourself is, will you be?"

"Excuse me, Miss Nocona, would you mind posing for a few pictures with your brother? You must be so proud of him." A young woman, probably a journalism student, gushed, her eyes alight at the shiny buttons on Pete's dress jacket.

"Right now, I don't have time." Kennedy was already moving past her. "In another hour, if he's feeling up to it, then we'll pose for you, alright?"

"Al -- right." The girl frowned in confusion, looking first at Pete and then back at Kennedy.

Kennedy kept walking, not looking back. The anger still simmered and she shoved it down, for the time being. She'd just won something she'd worked very hard for, and dammit, she deserved to celebrate. For the next thirty minutes, that's exactly what she intended to do. Spying Carson standing near the bar, Kennedy's entire face lit up. "How about a drink and a dance, little lady?"

"Funny you should ask." Carson tucked a hand in the crook of Kennedy's elbow. "I saw you coming and I just ordered us a couple of glasses of champagne, congressman."

"I like the way you think." Kennedy's eyes were all over Carson's face, reading the love and concern there. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Carson's ear. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Let's party."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The champagne settled comfortably in Kennedy's stomach, warming it and taking the edge off her wound-up nerves. They'd not made it to the dance floor yet, a steady stream of well-wishers, reporters, and photographers effectively sealing them in, there against the bar. For the time being that was fine with both women, each of them perched on nice, padded bar chairs, Kennedy's arm lazily draped across the back of Carson's seat. She leaned forward and strained to hear a question from someone in the back of a crowd that was seven-people deep.

"The first thing I plan to do once I take office?" The youngish female reporter nodded, obviously relieved to not have to shout her question again. "You mean after I figure out where to park and get sworn in?" This brought a round of laughter. It was a relaxed crowd. Most of the precincts had reported in and it appeared the Democrats were going to have a slight majority in both the Texas house and the senate. Human spirits were high in the room, and liquid spirits were flowing freely. The victory party was in full force.

Kennedy shifted her body, leaning more toward Carson. "The first thing I do will depend on what's on the agenda at the time. As far as my own personal agenda, there are several areas I'd like to concentrate on, but those will also depend upon which committees I end up serving with. I hope to introduce legislation for more controlled land development in Travis and the surrounding counties, and try to get some areas of land designated as state parks and nature preserves. We need to protect the natural beauty of our state for the generations to come."

Her phone rang and she casually lifted it from her belt. At first she glanced at the caller ID, then both brows lifted and she flipped it open, holding up a hand to the crowd. "Hello?" She sat up taller and Carson could feel a nervous thumb brushing back and forth across the back of her shoulder. "Well, thank you. I'm quite pleased, too. I'm looking forward to diving in once the session starts next year . . . I will . . . in the spring? . . . No, I've never seen cherry trees in bloom but they sound beautiful . . . I certainly appreciate it . . . Yes . . . thank you again, I'll definitely be in touch." Slowly she closed the phone, holding as if it might bite her.

"Who was that?" Carson gently took the phone from Kennedy and tucked it back into its belt holster, straightening Kennedy's lapels in the process. "Ugh," she mumbled low, realizing the cameras were eating up her actions. "At this rate they'll have a titillating montage for the front page in the morning."

"That was the house minority leader, calling to congratulate me." Kennedy appeared stunned.

"Honey, he's standing right across the room, why couldn't he just walk over and shake your hand like everyone else?" Carson gestured toward a tall man across the way.

"Not him. She was calling from Washington." Kennedy downed the rest of her glass of champagne.

"The U.S. House minority leader?" Carson's voice rose incredulously and Kennedy nodded affirmatively. "Holy crap."

"Yeah, she -- um -- asked me if I'd like to come speak at a women's environmental action conference next April. You up for a tour of the Smithsonian?" Kennedy grinned, recovering her composure.

"Absolutely." Carson smiled back at her, then frowned, realizing the implications. "You sure they're not grooming your for even bigger things?"

"The only person I'd let groom me for anything is you, sweetheart." Kennedy reached across, taking Carson's hand. "Hey, I need to get that talk with Pete out of the way, but when I'm done, I want to dance the rest of the night away with you."

"You got it." Ignoring the crowd, Carson leaned closer, kissing Kennedy's cheek. "I think Katie and Parker took the kids up to the suite, but your parents are still over at our table. I'll go keep them company until you get back."

"Can't wait." Kennedy slid off the tall chair, holding out a hand to help Carson down from hers. "Hey folks, I need to go take care of some personal business and then we're going to take advantage of the band over at the dance floor. Anyone who wants further interview time, please give my office a call and we'll try to schedule you in."

"Thanks, Kennedy," an older man with a tiny hand-held recorder nodded politely, a chorus of "thank you's" ringing out around her as she eased her way through the crowd and toward the balcony. Carson was holding her hand and she felt a squeeze as they neared the doors to the outside.

"Hey." Carson tugged at her coat-tails. "My phone's on. If you need rescuing, you just hit speed dial and I'll come and call you away."

"Thanks." Kennedy smiled gratefully, reluctantly letting go of Carson's hand. "I won't be long."

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the balcony door open, stepping out into a warm, steady breeze. Pete was in the far corner, his back to the doors as he looked out over the city. She realized she was surprised he'd stayed. "So. I gather that uniform does mean something to you, after all."

Pete turned, facing her, his hands clasped behind his back.   "It may not mean exactly the same thing to me that it does to you, but yes, it does mean something."

"Very well." Kennedy nodded toward a couple of chairs, away from the doors, and out of hearing of any patrons mingling just inside, assuming neither she nor Pete ended up raising their voices. Pete took the hint and sat down, drawing his legs close to the chair and folding his hands in his lap. Kennedy leaned against a support column and crossed her arms and ankles. When it became apparent she didn't intend to sit down, Pete sighed and sat up a bit taller. "Thanks for giving me a chance."

"Not giving you a chance. Just listening to my better half's suggestion that I hear you out, so start talking. It's a really nice party in there and Carson is waiting for me to dance with her. We don't get to do that very often and every minute spent with you is taking away from that."

Pete flinched and hunched over a little. "Sorry." He paused, studying his sister. The low light kept him from reading her eyes very well, but her body language alone was prickly enough to make him want to hunt for a pair of tweezers. "I'm happy for you, Shea."

"Thanks. Now talk." She tossed her head a bit, settling her hair around her shoulders. A street lamp just below the balcony shone off the surface of her silk blouse and backlit her profile. Agitation rolled off her in waves.

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt." Pete studied the stony face for any sign of sympathy, and found none. He swallowed, and forged ahead, hoping the slight twitch in Kennedy's fingertips wouldn't lead to her suddenly jumping him. "All I wanted was to buy a few recreational drugs and have a little fun."

"And you were dealing to your frat brothers." Kennedy leaned back against the balcony railing, stretching out her arms. She cocked her head to one side, tapping her fingers against the cool brass fixture.

"They were going to get it somewhere. I figured …"

"This conversation is over." Kennedy turned and started toward the door.

"Shea. Wait. I'm not finished. Please." He stood up and went after her, barely touching her on the shoulder. "Please?"

There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice. She paused and looked out at the sparkling lights of the city. Across the street, down on the sidewalk, a homeless person shuffled along, pushing a grocery cart full of junk and wearing a long coat, despite the unusual November heat. For a moment Kennedy was reminded of how much their parents had given them, and how fortunate they were to live the way they did. Did Pete realize it, too? Did he even begin to understand the things that could have happened because of him? It was so tempting to walk away, because the greater temptation to grab her brother and knock him up against the building was almost overwhelming. "Why should I give you a single minute of my time? Carson and I almost died because of you."

"I know." Pete backed off and moved into her peripheral vision. "I know. You don't owe me a thing. I understand that. I just wanted to apologize for everything you and Carson went through. Like I said, I never meant to hurt anyone."

Kennedy turned, the light from below now shining across the planes of her face from a menacing upward angle. Her eyes were ablaze with anger, and her voice dropped a cold octave. "You want to apologize? You'll forgive me if it's a little too little, a little too late. Go do whatever you have to do, but just remember if you end up in the middle of the Iraqi desert, this was your choice. I had nothing to do with it. Hell, I hear drugs are easy to get in the army. I'm sure you'll feel right at home there."

"That's not what I joined up for." Pete moved back, as she stepped closer, her face hardened in what he recognized as barely-controlled rage. "I don't know what else to say."

"You …" she gave him a slight shove. "You don't get it, do you? I … almost … died, because your friends shot me, dammit! Carson and I were shoved into a trunk and almost kidnapped. I almost wrecked my motorcycle while she was riding it with me, because your friends drugged my drink. Has any of that sunk in for you Pete? Has it!" she barked, watching as he cringed away from her, his eyes full of confusion.

She raised one hand, drawing it into a fist. It had been almost a year since she'd lived through that nightmare, but suddenly it felt like yesterday, the adrenalin and rage coursing through her system all over again. Her arm shook and she took several deep breaths, willing some of the anger down. It would do no good to knock him over the railing. She lowered her arm and moved closer to him. "I spent years floundering out there, and when I finally have the life I want -- you -- you sorry son of a bitch, came close to destroying all of it."

"Sis, I never meant …"

"Save it!" She roared.

"Shea!" He backed away, his face awash with anguish. "Please. I know I screwed up."

"I don't think you do," she answered sadly. It was so hard to believe he was her brother. The kid she'd diapered and taught to ride a bicycle. The kid she'd played catch with in the back yard and carried around on her shoulders during the annual 4th of July parade. She tried to remember the last time she really knew him, and realized that once she'd left home, she'd lost touch with him, even though he'd lived for two years in her garage apartment. Now here he stood before her, a grown man in uniform. "Listen to me."

Pete nodded a little and relaxed his posture, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry."

"You may think you're sorry, but I've been there, Pete, and I don't see it in your eyes or in your actions. As far as I'm concerned, joining the army is just another way for you to run away from your problems, so listen to me carefully. The only reason I'm giving you this bit of time is because you're my brother. If you were anyone else, there's a good chance I would be in jail for murder by now. It's bad enough you put me in danger, but you put Carson in danger too."

"I didn't intend …" Pete stammered.

"I know." Kennedy sighed. "And I didn't intend for Angela to die, but she did. And I didn't intend to put Mama and Pa, and you and Parker through hell all those years, but I did. My wakeup call was when my girlfriend died in my arms. You got lucky, Pete. Damned lucky. You came close to attending my funeral, and whether that makes you sad or not, it would have killed Mama and Pa. It would have ripped our family apart. You go and get yourself killed and that will rip us apart, too."

"But I …"

"No! Dammit, Pete!" She stomped her foot and clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "No 'buts.' None. I know you've enlisted and it's too late to back out now, but running away isn't going to solve anything. Have you been to rehab at all? Have you gotten clean?" He shook his head and she studied him sorrowfully. "Get into rehab -- maybe the army can help you with that, but god, Pete, get some help before you do something that can't be fixed. Get off the drugs. You do that, and then you call me and apologize."

"But, Shea …"

"No! You lied to me. More than once." She shook her head sadly. "I can't trust you anymore."

"I know," he whispered painfully. "Please, just listen to me and then I'll leave you alone."

"Fine." Kennedy resumed leaning, this time against the wall across from him. "Whatever."

"I was wasting my time and your money in school. I had no sense of direction. I worked some odd construction jobs but realized that was also leading me nowhere. I've never had much discipline." He looked up at her and she nodded her agreement with him. "This is my chance to make something of myself. Maybe after I've served my time, I'll go back to school. Or maybe I'll end up career military. I don't know yet. I'm not going to Iraq. I've been accepted into the Army's Defense Language Institute as an instructor and research assistant. I ship out for Monterey a week from yesterday."

"An instructor? You don't speak anything but English and Comanche," she responded in surprise. "Unless the U.S. is at war with the Comanche again after all these years, what possible use could they have for you there?" His silence spoke volumes. "Oh, Pete. Please tell me I'm mistaken." She shook her head sadly.

"When I was talking to the recruiter and they found out I speak Comanche, they said they had wanted for a long time to document the language. They said it might be useful for them somewhere down the line. So I signed up." He shrugged. "Come on, Shea. This is my chance to serve -- to make something of myself. Maybe this way I won't get sent overseas."

"And maybe you will," Kennedy retorted. "You know how desperate they are for bodies right now. But Pete, you also know how protective the tribe is with the language when it comes to outsiders. When Pa taught it to us, it came with a great trust and a great responsibility. Does he know what you're doing?"

"No," Pete admitted. "All he knows is I'm going to Monterey for more training. What difference does it make? If the army doesn't learn Comanche from me, they'll probably eventually learn it from someone else."

"Just like selling drugs, huh?" She snorted. "Someone's going to profit from it. Might as well be you. You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"It's not the same thing," Pete insisted, his voice rising in frustration. "Listen, I'll look into rehab when I get out there. But I have to do this."

"Yeah, now that you've joined up, I guess you do." She closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself. Opening them again, she studied him more closely, searching his face and trying to find anything of the brother she'd once known in his eyes. She found nothing. "Sell out your family, sell out your tribe, what's next? If the enemy approaches you with a good offer, will you sell out your country?"

"That's not fair!" Pete protested. "I'd never do that. God, Shea."

"I'm not sure what you're capable of anymore. I honestly hope you don't get killed, but I think this conversation is over." She turned and started to walk away.

"You're going to tell Pa, aren't you?" He came after her, clinging to her sleeve.

She shook him off and faced him, her expression hard and cold. "And break his heart? No. Goodbye, Pete." She turned again, this time not stopping. It was harder than she thought it would be, but at the same time, the forgiveness wasn't there. She doubted it ever would be. A part of her would always love her brother, but he'd crossed a line from which there was no crossing back. She shoved her own hands in her pockets, head down as the wind picked up, whipping through her hair. She heard Pete mutter something else, then the slam of the balcony door that effectively separated them as she re-entered the ballroom.

From one direction, the reporter who had wanted a picture with her and Pete approached, and from the other, Carson was heading purposefully toward her. Kennedy held up an apologetic hand. "Sorry. We're not up for that photo after all. Plus, I promised my fiancé I'd dance with her for a while."

"Could I have a picture with you and your fiancé, then?" The girl looked completely dejected, and Kennedy's heart softened. There was no fight left in her. "Sure." She motioned Carson over, tucking an arm around her. Carson simply held on, her arm around Kennedy's waist firm and supportive. They smiled for a few flashes, then politely excused themselves.

"You alright?" Carson studied her face, reaching across and ordering Kennedy's windblown hair.

"No." Kennedy pursed her lips inward, then forced a smile. "But I will be. Dance with me?"

"All night long, babe." Carson took her hand, leading her toward the music and much happier surroundings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The music of the Cotton-Eyed Joe rang out across the room, the dancers formed up in lines as they hopped and kicked and laughed raucously. At appropriate intervals they all yelled "bull shit" in unison, as the music grew faster and faster. Carson held onto Kennedy's waist, her thumb hooked securely through a belt-loop.

"You don't plan on playing crack-the-whip this time, do you?" Kennedy held on just as firmly, a fist-full of Carson's skirt in her hand.

"I don't know," Carson panted, her feet moving as fast as they could. "Last time I did, I met you. Maybe this is my lucky dance."

"Our lucky dance," Kennedy corrected her with a smile. The song ended and the band immediately cued up a waltz. Her eyes twinkling, Kennedy smoothly folded Carson into her arms, without missing a beat

"Now this is more like it." Carson easily fell into the rhythm, following Kennedy's lead with little conscious thought. They danced well together, with a natural grace usually reserved for couples who had years of practice and familiarity. It was almost as if they had spun across the floor together in another time and another place. She thought of the painting of the two pirates that hung in their guest bedroom, and a magical evening in Big Bend.

"Penny for your thoughts." Kennedy ducked her head, her lips near Carson's ear.

"White buck," Carson replied. She locked eyes with Kennedy, their gaze so intense she could swear she felt it as a physical current running between them. It was that sensation again, that they were one and the same, connected in such a way that she couldn't tell where she ended and Kennedy began, or if her feelings were her own or if they were sharing one single emotion.

A pair of lips brushed across her forehead and Carson closed her eyes, resting her head on Kennedy's shoulder as the music changed tempo and they slowed to a gentle swaying. It felt like dancing on clouds, floating there in Kennedy's arms as they shared something that couldn't be seen. It was nearly midnight and they'd been dancing for over two hours. When they first took to the floor, they drew a number of curious gazes, but after a while everyone had grown used to seeing two women dancing cheek-to-cheek and after that they had been treated just like any other couple. The reporters had thankfully vacated to go get their stories out. Carson was glad. True, they were in a room full of people, but at the same time they were sharing something intensely private. She wasn't sure she wanted to see pictures of it in the morning paper.

"You feel it?" Kennedy's voice vibrated against Carson as she spoke.

"Yes." Carson looked up for a moment.

"Too much for one night?" Kennedy searched Carson's face with concern.

"I'm okay. You?" They'd spoken little of Pete. Kennedy had seemed to want to table it in favor of celebration and Carson was willing to let it be, until they could retreat to the privacy of their own home. She reached up, pushing long bangs out of Kennedy's eyes. "You need a trim."

"I need to sleep for a week," Kennedy admitted. Something caught her eye and she looked up. "Um, but I think I need to dance with my father first."

"May I cut in?" Joseph tapped Carson on the shoulder.

"Of course." Carson graciously stepped aside.   "I'll go keep your wife company for a while." She moved to the edge of the dance floor, stopping for a moment to watch, and shaking her head. They'd never discussed where they learned to dance, but Kennedy was amazing. In an instant she had switched from leading to following, her steps just as smooth and easy dancing backward as they had been dancing forward. Watching now, she suspected Kennedy was probably dancing with her original dance instructor, father and daughter moving fluidly as they talked with ease.

Reluctantly she turned and made her way to their table, where Aileen was seated, her shoes vacated and tucked discretely beneath her chair. "Hi." Carson took a seat. "That's a good idea. My feet are starting to protest." She removed her own high-heeled strappy sandals and sighed with relief, wiggling her toes. "This evening is starting to feel surreal, don't you think?"

"Yes," Aileen agreed. "Between the long drive, the flat tire, dealing with my youngest son, and my daughter winning the election, to say I'm exhausted is putting it mildly." She laughed lightly. "How are you holding up?"

"I hear a soft pillow calling my name." Carson smiled. "I think after Joseph and Kennedy finish dancing, she's going to be ready to go collect the kids and head home. We made up the pool house bed for y'all. Figured we could put the kids in the guest room down the hall from us. I know they like bunking in the barn but after the break-in, we talked about it and decided we'd rather keep them close by. Did Parker and Katie ever make it back down here?" She looked around the room for her soon-to-be in-laws.

"No." Aileen sipped from a glass of ice water. "Well, yes," Parker did, but only long enough to tell us they'd sent the nanny home. He said they were going to relax with the kids in the suite and watch Disney movies on pay per view until we were ready to go. I think they were going to order up room service and just have some quiet family time."

"Can't say as I blame them. It's awfully crazy down here." Carson looked up as a waiter brought her a glass of water. "Gracias." She took a long swallow, then greedily gulped at the cold liquid. "Oh, that hits the spot. Dancing always makes me thirsty."

"Yes, I had to switch from champagne to water myself," Aileen agreed with her. "It's a good thing my life keeps me so active. Keeping up with my husband on the dance floor would be quite the challenge, otherwise."

"Runs in the family." Carson smiled ruefully, holding up her glass in a toast before she took another drink from it.

"I remember when Shea was twelve," Aileen mused. "A boy had asked her to her first junior high school dance. At first she was excited, but then she moped around for a week and finally said she thought dances were stupid and she wasn't going. I could see right through her. She wanted to go, but she didn't know how to dance. She was so stubborn, though. Wouldn't admit that she wanted to learn. We were sitting there in the kitchen. You've seen it --" Carson nodded as Aileen continued. "The door to the basement was open and Joseph was down in his studio. He heard her."

"So he offered to teach her?" Carson smiled.

"Even better." Aileen laughed lightly. "He was already planning to take me to the fall harvest dance in town later that month. He went to Shea and said he had gotten rusty and wanted to practice with someone else before he took me out."

"Sweet." Carson giggled.

"Yes. Shea fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He cleared a space down in the studio and took a boom box down there. They practiced every afternoon until the day before the dance." Aileen smiled fondly in memory. "She came home after the dance and her face was glowing. She had such a good time. I think it was one of the few times she did enjoy herself at a school event during those years. I learned later from one of her teachers that once all the boys saw how well she danced, they'd nearly all gone to her one by one that night and asked her to teach them."

"Figures." Carson smiled. "Bet she enjoyed being better at something than all those guys."

"Yes," Aileen nodded. "She always was competitive. She was such a maddening child. Getting her to adulthood was one battle after another, but whenever she put her mind to something, she always had to be the best at it. Archery. Barrel racing. Science fairs. Spelling bees. Cross-country. It's probably a blessing she never took to team sports. I have a feeling she would have gotten into fights with team-mates. She would have expected the same level of drive from them that she expected from herself."

"She's still that way." Carson lifted one foot, rubbing it with her thumb. "But her employees are completely loyal to her. She expects a lot from them, but her firm has the reputation of being the most generous one in town. She pays at least half more than most firms would, and she makes them take their vacation time. Pays full medical benefits for employees and their family members, and matches their 401K 100 per cent.   Gives them all a lunch allowance, a fuel allowance, and pays their dry-cleaning bills. Pays for day-care for their kids, too."

Aileen appeared stunned. "I -- I had no idea." She gazed across the floor at her daughter, who was in deep conversation with her husband. "Thank you, Carson." She blinked rapidly a few times, as if she were trying to avoid crying. "It was extremely difficult dealing with her from high school on through law school. After she moved to Austin and got her life back on track, I was so relieved. I -- I " Aileen choked up then, waving one hand in apology. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." Carson scooted closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. We're family, right?"

"Yes.' Aileen smiled as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. "What I as trying to say is, for so long after she left home, every time the phone rang, I prayed it wasn't the call telling me she was dead. I hoped and dreamed she'd come to her senses, but tonight with this election, and what you've told me about her firm -- all those dreams and prayers have been answered in full measure and then some."

"Here." Carson located an unused cocktail napkin and offered it over. Aileen took it and dabbed at her eyes.   "She's told me about some of the things she did back then." Carson shook her head in frustration.   "It's hard for me to picture. The Kennedy I know is as different from those stories as night and day. She --" Carson paused, searching for words to express something that was mostly felt. "She has this incredible sense of honor. She always tries to do the right thing. From the day we met, even before we admitted we were in love, I never doubted her -- never questioned that I could count on her to be there for me if I needed her. Now -- " Carson looked down at the ring on her left hand. "I feel incredibly lucky -- blessed. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with someone I trust completely. I should be thanking you." Carson touched Aileen's shoulder again. "You say it was a battle with her, but good god, you sure did something right."

"Thank you." Aileen patted Carson's leg. "But I need to thank you as well. You breathed life back into my daughter. It was one thing for her to find a place where she could respect herself again. But I don't think she knew peace or happiness until she met you."

"That sentiment is a two-way street," Carson replied quietly. She looked across the room where Kennedy and Joseph were still dancing, their expressions extremely serious. "What ARE they talking about?"

"With those two?" Aileen shrugged. "It could be almost anything. Unfortunately, she did not get her single-minded focus from me. Put the two of them together, and oh, my -" She smiled. "Give them any topic, and I do mean any topic, and they can take off on it for hours. Piece of advice. Don't ever play chess with either of them unless you plan on camping out at the chess board for a while. Every move must be analyzed at least a dozen times from every possible angle."

"Warning duly noted," Carson answered with mock gravity.

Across the room, Kennedy danced, one part of her extremely happy to have time to spend with her father, the other part weighted down with her new title and her conversation with Pete. Carson had already offered to play designated driver, and had only had the one glass of champagne, several hours earlier. Kennedy, however, had indulged as much as she dared, given the public place they were in and the proximity of cameras. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't even buzzed, but the alcohol had taken off just enough edge that her mind was flitting off in several directions, and she'd quite given up on reining it in.

"I'm proud of you, Shea." Joseph smiled as he expertly guided them between some of the other dancer.

It was a simple statement, but not one she'd heard from him more than a dozen times. Not that she'd done much to make him proud while she as growing up. "Thanks." She smiled warmly. "That means a lot." She frowned, still pondering her conversation with Pete. "Pa, if you knew someone was going to do something -- something that's not illegal, but it's not honorable either, what would you do?"

"That's a broad question." Joseph gave the question due consideration. "Can you be more specific?"

"What if someone was going to do something that might hurt a lot of people, not hurt them materially or physically, but hurt them in terms of broken trust?" The furrow between her brows deepened. "What would you do?"

"I supposed it would depend on how private a matter it is or how far-reaching the hurt might be." Joseph studied her. "Is it something that might cause more harm if you interfere, than if you let it go and let it run its course?"

"No. I think it will be pretty harmful. I think a lot of feelings will be hurt. But --" she trailed off, not wanting to say too much. "What if, no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt?"

"Deep questions for such a night." Joseph tilted his head, studying his daughter's face. She was a grown woman now, engaged to be married and about to hold public office. It warmed him to know that somewhere inside was his little girl, and that she still felt she could come to him to talk. "You have a good head on your shoulders."

"There was a time when I never thought I'd hear you say that." Kennedy smiled.

"True." Joseph patted her cheek. "But you do. When faced with a difficult decision, sometimes it comes down to determining what is the right thing to do. From an objective standpoint, what is the most morally-correct choice?"

"Hmmm." Kennedy pondered that, a decision settling heavily across her shoulders. "In those terms, the choice becomes easy. Thanks, Pa." She stood on tip-toes, kissing his cheek. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes, your mother is quite the lively one on the dance floor." He smiled broadly. "She's worn me out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carson stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing out seven milk glasses and a platter that had once held a pile of snickerdoodle cookies. Her in-laws were in the pool-house, where the soothing gurgle of the pool's waterfall would put them peacefully to sleep. After brushing teeth, changing into pj's, and several rounds of glasses of water, they'd gotten the older kids bedded down in the guest room. The babies were in a portable crib in Carson's room -- though she never slept there, with baby monitors all hooked up in both the master bedroom and the nearby kitchen island.

She put the dishes away and made her way through the house picking up toys, shoes, and socks, and turning off lights. As she entered the dog-trot, six pairs of mournful eyes peered hopefully up at her, three doggie tails thumping in a plea for clemency. Roma and Spanky both jumped up and raced toward her, purring and rubbing her legs in feline greeting. "I know y'all are pissed at being banished out here." She reached down, scratching Spanky's head and giving Roma a few pats on the butt. "But it's just for one night, okay? The kids get too excited with all y'all in the bedrooms. We'd never get them to sleep." As she crossed over to the other side of the house, she swore she heard a chorus of fur-kid sighs.

Passing the study, she realized the light was on and heard Kennedy furiously pounding away at the computer keyboard. "Hey." She poked her head just inside the doorway. "Your mail can't wait until tomorrow?"

"No." Kennedy looked up. The admonishment to come on to bed was on the tip of Carson's tongue, but something in those blue eyes told her to back off and let it be. She softened her own features and immediately saw Kennedy do the same. "I won't be long."

"Okay." Carson entered the room and eased herself down, taking a seat on the arm of the desk chair. Kennedy snaked one arm around her waist, pecking away with her free hand. "What you working on, may I ask?"

"E-mail to the chief of the Comanche Nation." Kennedy paused, reading her composed message. Sighing, she clicked the mouse, hitting 'send.'

"What for?" Carson didn't even try to sound casual. "Is it about the election?"

"No." Kennedy sat back, slipping her hand beneath the hem of Carson's t-shirt and idly stroking the soft skin of her hip with her thumb. "Pete is headed for the army's language school out in Monterey next week, where he's been tapped to teach the federal government the Comanche language. It's a huge betrayal."

"Oh." Beyond the few words she'd heard Kennedy exchange with her father, they'd never talked much about the Comanche language, and she'd always assumed their conversation was limited to a few terms of endearment. "I didn't realize Pete spoke Comanche."

"We all do." Kennedy closed the mail program and powered the computer off. "It's a sacred trust, and he's about to break it. We're a sovereign nation, with laws that in some aspects set us apart from U.S. laws."

"Does your father know?" Carson slid down into her lap, draping an arm across Kennedy's shoulders.

"No. Pete told me, not him. It's my responsibility. And I asked in the e-mail they keep my identity anonymous. I've given them the information. It's up to them now as to what they do about it, if anything." She sighed heavily. "My little brother is such a butt-head. I still hope the army will be good for him, but I can't stand by and let him do this without saying something."

"What would happen to him if they decide to take action?"

"Dunno." Kennedy frowned. "The nation could banish him, I suppose. As for the army, if they put a stop to it, I guess it would depend on if they have some other special use for him. Otherwise, I assume he'll be assigned to regular duties."

"Deployment?" Carson asked uneasily.

"Anything's possible," Kennedy answered with resignation. "Anyone who signs up for the military needs to understand that's the risk they're taking."

Carson studied her eyes. Kennedy was an expert at self-flagellation, but this time she didn't see guilt, only a profound sadness. "Come on." Carson stood, holding out her hand. "Let's go check on the babies and get some sleep. It's almost 3:00 a.m."

"God." Kennedy rubbed her eyes and took her hand, hauling to her feet with a weary groan. "No wonder I'm wiped."

They crept into Carson's room, peering into the crib where the twins were fast asleep, snuggled close together. Kennedy checked the settings on the baby monitor, then re-joined Carson as they watched the slight movement as the babies breathed the deep breath of sleep. "You still want to do this someday?"

"Yeah." Carson answered softly. "Very much."

"Me, too." Kennedy moved closer, hugging Carson to her side. She nuzzled her hair, then found her lips, indulging in a long, lazy kiss that ended in a warm, much-needed hug. It felt so good, grounding her and setting her world right once more. She remembered now. This was why she ran for office. She had a family and their future to protect. "Come on." She ran her hands up and down Carson's back. "Let's go sleep while we can."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was mid-morning by the time everyone began to stir, even the children, who had been kept up way past their bedtimes the night before. Carson rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty. Frowning, she swung her feet over the side of the mattress and grabbed a pair of sweat pants and shirt, tugging them on. It was cool in the room, indicating the heat outside had subsided overnight. She stumbled into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth, then ran a comb through hair that was mostly standing on end, a result of too much mousse and hairspray that she'd applied for the party.

In her sock-covered feet, she shuffled slowly down the hallway, her legs protesting slightly at the abuse they'd taken on the dance floor at the hotel. The guest room was vacant, as was the baby crib in her room. "Hmmm."

Yawning, she pushed open the dog trot door and entered the living room, following her nose to the coffee pot. "Ah, sweet nectar of life." She located a mug and poured up a cup, doctoring it with honey and skim milk and inhaling the roasted, nutty fragrance before taking a sip. The nice thing about cold milk was that it cut the heat of the coffee, cooling it instantly to a temperature that wouldn't scald her mouth. A glance toward the center island revealed a mostly-empty mixing bowl and a box of pancake mix. The faint hint of maple syrup and warm butter lingered in the air with the coffee. On the stove, a griddle sat cooling, its edges crusted with crisp bits of almost-burnt dough. Kennedy had already been up and busy. Carson's stomach growled.

She nudged the back door open and stood for a moment, taking in the calm of the morning. The lake's surface was glassy-calm, a few ducks bobbing up and down near the dock. Out beside the pool she could see Joseph and Aileen sitting at the patio table, surrounded by their grandchildren, all of them busily consuming the contents on their plates. Beneath the table lay all three dogs, anxiously hoping for dropped crumbs. She could hear the porch swing creaking, and instantly deduced where her partner and the babies probably were. "Hey." She made her way across the covered porch.

"Auntie Carson!" Ryan cried out around a mouthful of pancake. Nathan and Erin also greeted her, as did Aileen and Joseph.

"Morning everyone." She waved at the group. "You let me sleep through all the work," Carson admonished her lover.

"You were wiped," Kennedy smiled. "Mama and Erin helped with the cooking. Pa took over diaper duty. The boys fed all the animals. Don't worry. The nice thing about a big family is that there's enough people to share the work, that sometimes you can get away with being a slacker. It's all good."

"In that case, let's have a big family." Carson leaned over and pecked Kennedy on the lips. "Good morning, Congressman, by the way."

"Morning." Kennedy smiled, her eyes radiating a peace and happiness Carson hadn't seen there in several days. She had a baby cradled in the crook of one arm, feeding it a bottle, looking as if she took to it naturally.

Next to the swing was a bassinette. Carson peered inside and smiled. "Is this one Darby?"

"Yeah," Kennedy answered, her voice impressed. "How could you tell?"

"Well, it's not easy, but I noticed yesterday her hair has a little swirl in it that goes in a clockwise circle. Rory has one, too, but hers is counter-clockwise." She set her coffee cup on a table next to the swing and reached down, picking up a gurgling armful of baby. "Otherwise, I can't tell at all, unless they're dressed differently."

"I figured out the hair thing too." Kennedy lightly rubbed the top of Rory's head. "Have a bottle." She nodded toward a warmer that was plugged into an outlet below the window. "Or have some pancakes and then have a bottle. The cakes are in the bun warmer. We took it and all the fixin's inside the pool house and put them on the counter in the kitchenette there. The kids figured out the pool is heated, so the day is already planned. Our biggest challenge is going to be keeping them out of the water for an hour after they eat."

"We can always take them out to pet the horses for a while. That should distract 'em." Carson sat down and began feeding Darby. "I'm glad Parker and Katie got a little break. They were long overdue."

Kennedy laughed lightly. "They already called me twice this morning. I think they're on their way out here. Katie said she missed the babies."

"Bet you'll be the same way someday." Carson bumped her leg against Kennedy's.

"What makes you say that?" Kennedy peered at her in genuine puzzlement.

Carson merely snored at first, then rolled her eyes. "You take care of everyone, babe. I can only believe with your own kids that instinct will increase ten-fold."

Kennedy appeared to digest that, then smiled, ducking her head in a slight nod of acquiescence. "Touché. But you're looking like a pro at this yourself."

"I did a lot of babysitting from junior high school until I went off to college. I learned a few tricks along the way." Carson turned, one leg curled up on the porch swing seat. "We are going to have neat and tidy kids."

"Oh. And how do you plan on accomplishing that?" Kennedy tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. It was nice, just having normal time with Carson out on their porch; even nicer to be talking about their future together.

"Grab bag," Carson answered matter-of-factly.

"Grab bag? What's that -- a bag you walk around grabbing up their things and shoving them in it?"

"Yep," Carson replied.

"How does that make our kids neat and tidy? Seems like that's us doing the work and not them?" Kennedy asked reasonably.

"Not if I charge them a quarter from their piggy banks for every item they want to get back out of the bag," Carson answered smugly. "Teaches 'em real quick not to leave their things lying around."

"Oooo. I like that idea." Kennedy grinned. "Got any other neat tricks you'd care to share?"

"Well," Carson pursed her lips and looked up at the porch ceiling, thinking. "I know we both discussed that a swat to the behind is not child abuse. But I tell you what, there are some very logical ways to get them to do things, too - ways that make the punishment fit the crime."

"Such as?" Kennedy scooted closer, mindful not to dislodge the bottle from Rory's lips in the process.

"Like, if they fail to do their homework or fail to practice their piano lessons in a timely manner, or whatever, that logically means they want to use their TV time or their game boy time or their soccer game time to do those things. If their time is important to them, then they'll learn to use it wisely."

Kennedy released a long whistle. "Wow, you're a tough mama."

"I'm a no-nonsense mama. One of us has to be, and you're going to be the softie" She winked at Kennedy.

Kennedy opened her mouth, then shut it. "You know, I can't even argue with you on that point."

"Smart woman." Carson shifted Darby to her other arm and tilted the nearly-empty bottle up a little higher. "Ooo, she's hungry. Is Katie still breast-feeding?"

"Yep. That's her breast milk you're feeding her." Kennedy grinned as Carson made a face.

"TMI, babe, TMI." Carson studied the bottle curiously, then glanced down at her own chest. "I'm so used to thinking of them as pleasure centers, I completely forget their actual biological purpose. Wonder what that's like, giving sustenance to another person with something your own body produces?"

"Well -- Kennedy balanced the bottle against her stomach and reached across, tracing one of her favorite curves through Carson's sweatshirt. "They certainly give me a certain type of sustenance on occasion. As for their real purpose, you could find out for yourself sometime, if you want to."

"I'm not quite ready to think in those terms," Carson admitted, hefting one of her own breasts in her hand. "Besides, don't they get bigger? I think they're big enough now."

"They're perfect the way they are now." Kennedy grinned lasciviously. "But if they were bigger for a year or so, I'd have no complaints about that either. I'd love them no matter what size they are."

"I feel the same way." Carson peered pointedly at Kennedy's t-shirt. "So if you ever get curious about breast-feeding, you have my full support as well."

"I thought we were tabling this discussion for a few years." Kennedy frowned.

"We are." Carson nodded. She leaned over, pecking Kennedy's cheek. "This is nice, though. Especially with these two babies. You know, we'll always be connected to them in a special way."

"Yeah, both of them took to me this morning like they'd known me all their short lives." She shook her head in puzzlement. "Weird, given how little time I've spent with them."

"Maybe when you delivered them they imprinted on you like a baby bird." Carson laughed lightly.   "You were the first one to hold both of them, you know."

"Yeah, I guess I was." Kennedy looked down at Rory, who immediately smiled at her, releasing the bottle for a moment and kicking her little legs in utter happiness, her arms waving back and forth excitedly.

"Buh-buh-buh," Rory gurgled.

"Did she just call me Bubba?" Kennedy frowned.

" 'Auntie Shea' would probably be a mouthful at five months, hon." Carson nudged her.

"Phack," Darby joined in the chorus.

"Did you hear that?" Carson's voice rose in mock outrage. "I should wash your mouth out with soap, young lady. K, she obviously takes after you."

"Hey, now!" Kennedy reached over, pinching Carson's big toe, which was propped up on the swing's seat. "You say that word more often than I do."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"I do not!" Carson objected.

Kennedy leaned over and whispered in her ear, " 'Phack me, babe. Oh, god, phack me.' Sound familiar? Huh?"

"You keep that up, and I'll phack you." Carson stuck her tongue out.

"Promises, promises." Kennedy went for the little toe this time, giving it a tweak, then tickled Carson's instep.

"Hey!" Carson lifted her foot, pinching a bit of Kennedy's forearm skin between her first two toes.

"Ouch!" Kennedy scooted over.

"Prehensile toes." Carson laughed.

"Prehensile body," Kennedy retorted, raising one coy eyebrow.

"Tonight, when we're all alone --" Carson eased over, until they were touching again. "I'm going to put your prehensile body through its paces."

"While you phack me?" Kennedy asked hopefully.

"No, while you phack me." Carson flashed a sexy grin.

"Come on sundown."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was sinking low in the sky across the lake, though sundown was still a few hours away. It was pleasant outside, not too hot and not too cold, and a light breeze kept the air circulating across the back yard. Kennedy stood beside the grill, overseeing the preparation of a mess of food: hot dogs for the boys, fish kabobs for herself, Carson, Erin, Katie, and her parents, and burgers for Parker, Heidi, Valerie, and Serena.

Across the way, all the adult women were in the hot tub, giggling their way through an all-out hen party, complete with freely-flowing beer and wine. Aileen was in the kitchen putting together a large salad and Joseph was in the pool house tending to a tub of home-made vanilla ice cream. The children had finally gotten their fill of the pool and were engaged in a game of touch football with Parker and Nathan playing against Erin and Ryan. The dogs were banished to the screened-in porch until the game was over, but after a day of running circles around the fenced-in pool, they were all crashed in contented canine bliss, resting comfortably near the babies' bassinette.

Looking around the yard, Kennedy decided life just didn't get much better than that. It was difficult to think about the events of the day before, or that in two short months she would take her oath of office and her seat in the chambers of the Texas House of Representatives. Her phone had rang steadily all day and she'd let most of the calls go to voice mail, unwilling to take time away from her family to field the barrage of what she assumed were congratulatory messages. There would be time enough for that when the familial dust settled.

Opening the grill's lid, she took a pair of tongs and turned several ears of corn that were still in the husks. The blended aromas coming from the mass of food made her mouth water and her stomach growl. She heard the slap of bare feet on the pool deck and turned, smiling as Carson opened the gate and maneuvered a path of flagstones to join her. "Hey."

"Hey." Carson rested both hands on her shoulders, peering around her at her handy-work. "Want me to spell you for a while?"

"Nah. I've got it covered, but you can keep me company." She bumped her behind against Carson's stomach.

"I can do that." Carson wandered over to a nearby cooler and flipped the lid open, retrieving a beer and twisting the cap open. She sauntered back to Kennedy's side and tilted the bottle up to her lips.

"Mmmm." Kennedy took a sip and smacked her lips. "Thanks. My whistle needed wetting."

"Just your whistle?" Carson hip-bumped her and took a sip of her own.

"For now." Kennedy winked at her.

"Smells great." Carson stood next to her, watching the assembly-line in progress.

"I'm using Mama's barbeque recipe." Kennedy gestured toward an unlabeled bottle sitting on a large tray that was attached to the side of the grill.

"What's in it?" Carson picked the bottle up and sniffed it. "Ooo, hot and spicy."

"Dunno. Mama guards that recipe with more secrecy than Colonel Sanders. It won first place at the Brewster County fair when I was little and she's been using it for parties and serving guests at the bed and breakfast ever since." Kennedy flipped a couple of burgers over and proceeded to shuffle the entire collection of meats around so that those in back of the grill were in front, and vice versa. "Bottles of that stuff are one of the items for sale in the case in the front room at the house."

"Good for her." Carson smiled and set the bottle down. "You know," she changed the subject. "Heidi's doing really well."

"Yeah?" Kennedy peered over toward the hot tub where Heidi, Serena, and Valerie were all laughing at something. "She seems like she is."

"Uh-huh. She's drinking the sparkling grape juice." Carson nibbled her lower lip. "I was worried about all the alcohol we're serving. Do you think it makes her feel bad?"

"Eh." Kennedy closed the grill lid and placed the tongs on a hook to the side. "My understanding, and from what she's said to me, people are supposed to treat her normally. So if we're having a party and would normally serve alcohol, we aren't supposed to withhold it on her account. She has to learn to live as a sober alcoholic for the rest of her life, and that includes learning how to be around people who are drinking without partaking of it herself."

"That makes sense, I guess." Carson studied Kennedy, apparently debating. "But she moved here, away from the people in Dallas she was hanging out with."

"And I moved away from Houston," Kennedy gently reminded her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." Carson looked down. "I -- um -- didn't think about that."

"Hey." Kennedy touched her cheek. "It's okay, sweetheart. I’m not offended. Here's how it was for me, and I think for Heidi. It's one thing to learn to be around it, but it's another to not have a healthy support group. When I lived in Houston, everyone I knew drank like fish. They smoked weed regularly and cocaine at our parties was a given. I didn't feel strong enough to break away from that and stay in the same city. Plus, they would've kept trying to convince me to party with them. Making a clean break was what I had to do to get clean. Heidi was in the same boat in Dallas. All her friends' parties and outings centered around drinking. It was the main even rather than a side dish. She knew she could come here and I and Serena and Valerie, and you, would support her. We bought that sparkling grape juice especially for her. Our friends in Houston wouldn’t have done that. They would've passed me -- or her -- a beer and waited to see what we would do. That's the difference."

"Not very nice friends," Carson commented sadly.

"I suppose," Kennedy wiped her hands on a dish towel she had tucked into the waistband of her jeans. "I don't think of them as malicious, though. Just clueless. It's what they know, and they don't understand why I or Heidi need or want to get away from it. Heidi's the only friend I kept up with from back then, but we go back a lot further - there was more to our friendship than substance abuse. She was a true friend. That's the difference."

"I'm glad you have her." Carson glanced toward the hot tub. "She's part of your history, and I know she truly cares about you."

"She cares about you, too, love." Kennedy ruffled Carson's hair. "She gently encouraged me to pursue you from day one."

"Really?" Carson smiled. "I'm glad. I mean, not just for me, which of course I am, but I'm glad she wants you to be happy."

"She does." Kennedy tweaked her nose. "And being with you makes me extremely happy."

Carson closed the distance, standing on tip-toes and guiding Kennedy's face down for a kiss. They could hear a few catcalls from the hot tub and proceeded to prolong the contact. Finally, they broke apart and both took a bow as the women in the hot tub clapped. At that moment, Kennedy's cell phone rang and she retrieved it, glancing at the caller ID.   "Ugh. Sheriff. Can you watch the grill while I take this?"

"Sure." Carson frowned. "No problem."

"Thanks." Kennedy pressed a button on the phone and headed for the pool house, opening the door and entering. "Hello?" She waved at her father in the kitchenette area and moved to the bedroom for privacy. "Oh, my god … you're kidding me … I don't know what to say. Are they going to expect Carson or I to testify? … Good. We've been through enough already … How long have you known? … Jesus … I'm in shock. I knew he was involved in something, but this is unbelievable … yeah, almost makes me feel sorry for him … yeah … I know, but we had our moments of decency … Okay. Well, thanks for letting me know. Can I tell Carson? I won't say anything to anyone else until it hits the news." Kennedy laughed. "Point well-taken. I would tell her anyway … alright … yeah, I'm glad you waited until after the election … Thanks for letting me know … you have a good evening, too." She ended the call and replaced the phone. "Wow. Pa, can you get Carson for me? We need a moment alone in here." She entered the kitchenette. "I'll trade you -- grill duty for ice cream duty."

"Everything alright?" Joseph came around the snack bar and touched her arm.

"Yeah. Just had some shocking news, but not completely surprising, I guess. It'll be all over the papers in a day or two." She watched as Joseph tilted his head in question. "Sorry, Pa. I promised I'd only tell Carson. You'll know what it's about soon enough."

"I'd never ask you to break a promise." Joseph smiled. "I'm proud of you, Shea. Not just for the election. I'm proud of who you've become." He patted her shoulder and she took his hand, holding it.

"Thanks, Pa." She hugged him. "That means more to me than winning any old election."

He squeezed her in return. "I'll go get Carson."

"Thanks." She watched him leave, smiling and shaking her head in wonder. "That was worth nine months of campaigning."

In a short time, Carson entered the bungalow, her forehead creased in a frown. "What's up? Bad news from the sheriff?"

"Bizarre news from the sheriff. They just took Roy Sanderson into custody. He surrendered of his own free will."

"What?" Carson's brows shot into her hairline. "Why?"

"Sheriff said he'll be turning him over to federal prosecutors. Seems all that hoo-ha in Bangkok was a cover for some illegal arms trading. He hinted at leaking of nuclear secrets as well and said Sanderson is involved with some bad guys at the federal level."

"Oh, my God." Carson sat down on a comfy couch covered in a whimsical fish pattern. "Did I start all this?"

"No." Kennedy sat down next to her. "Sheriff said they've been working with the fed a while, but the last few puzzle places fell into place the day before yesterday. They didn't want to interrupt the election and bring it all into the news spotlight just yet, so they waited until this morning to take him in. He told me that privately he thinks Sanderson is taking the fall for someone higher up. It'll all come out in the hearings."

"Geez." Carson sat back in shock. "Do you think, with what Sanderson said, that the president is involved?"

"Privately, I think the president would sell his own mother for a profit. But ultimately, this government is too tight. Someone else's head will roll, even if the pres is involved." She frowned angrily. "They'll circle the wagons and protect him. I will tell you, I'm glad they waited until today and we don't have to deal with a replacement candidate and some kind of re-call situation."

"Oh, lord. Me, too," Carson fervently agreed. "Enough is enough."

"I told the sheriff I feel kind of sorry for him." Kennedy stood and walked over to the window, looking outside. "He doesn't get it. I think he lost his way a long time ago."

"You said he seemed remorseful, though." Carson got up and joined her.

"Yeah, he did. It seemed like he was trying to remember what it was like to have pure motives."

"Like yours?" Carson tucked her hand into the crook of Kennedy's elbow.

"My motives are completely selfish," Kennedy advised her.

"What makes you say that?" Carson frowned, looking up at her.

"A part of me believes there is some kind of higher power or afterlife to look forward to. But you knew that." Kennedy looked over, their eyes meeting, as Carson nodded her agreement. "Beyond that, I don't really know. I’m not Christian and I'm certainly no martyr. I don't believe in focusing on that afterlife because I don't believe there's any way to know for sure what form it will take. Living forever is a tricky proposition. What if we die and we go back to dirt? What if living forever simply means our bodies break down and our molecules take on a new form and join with the soil to nourish other life- forms? What if that is the way we end up living forever?"

"Ooo, never thought of it like that, but that makes a lot of sense." Carson took a deep breath. "But it sure puts life now in a new light."

"It does. Because if there is no heaven -- no tangible reward -- to live for, then why are we here? The world doesn't make sense, Carson. I figured that out a long time ago. There's famine and innocent children dying in other parts of the world. Here in America we keep going after every material thing we can get. And all for what?" Kennedy swept her hand across the view in front of them. "What am I living for, really? I thought about that, and this is what I'm living for. You. Mama and Pa. The rest of my family. And my friends that have become like family. That's what it's all about. Somewhere along the way, Sanderson lost sight of what's important. I want you to promise me something."

"Anything." Carson took her hand, twining their fingers.

It felt warm, and secure, and Kennedy brushed her thumb back and forth across the back of Carson's hand. "If you ever think I'm getting too ambitious -- if you ever see me losing sight of who I am and what I stand for, I want you to give me a swift kick in the ass and keep repeating it until you kick some sense back into me."

"I promise." Carson smiled and lifted their joined hands, kissing Kennedy's palm. "But somehow I don't think I'll ever have to."

"Well, just in case." Kennedy leaned over, pressing their foreheads together. "I built this house when I was all alone. I met you, and it became a home. What I have here -- what's inside this house -- what we share and the extended family we share it with -- that's worth everything to me. Everything. It's why I do what I do. You are my home now."

"And you're mine." Carson cupped Kennedy's cheek, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "You gave me love, and a home, and a family. It's like a dream sometimes, but then I pinch myself and it hurts and I realize I'm wide awake. You say this is everything to you, but you've given me everything."

"God, I love you so much." Kennedy pulled her into a hug, brushing her lips across Carson's forehead.

They stood there, rocking back and forth. Outside, the women in the hot tub laughed again, and further away, Parker whooped, signaling that one of his brood had made a touchdown. The lid on the grill clanked, and in the distance, the screen door to the porch creaked, indicating that Aileen was finished with the salad and on her way out to join them. "You hear all that?" Carson whispered.

"Yeah." Kennedy pecked her lips. "It's our life."

"Let's go live it." Carson took Kennedy's hand, giving it a tug toward the door.

"Right beside you, babe." Kennedy gave her a squeeze. "Right beside you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END, FOR NOW.