Godless (16 page)

Five minutes
later Julia was sitting beside her husband near a courtyard fountain. They had decided to wait rather than frantically chase Amanda in and out of the thousand possible hideouts the outdoor mall offered. Julia initiated the phone-tracking app on her phone to pinpoint Amanda's latest location.

“How far?” Troy asked.

“About three hundred yards that way,” she said, pointing in the direction Julia already knew would become Amanda's likely destination. “She's in a store we visited earlier. Her Edge.”

“You took her to Her Edge?”

“More like she took me,” Julia said with exasperation.

He laughed knowingly. “I see.”

Troy had always been more patient with Amanda's antics than Julia. And it made her mad; not that he modeled such loving perseverance, but that she hadn't figured out how to do the same.

“I'm not sure I'm cut out for this.” Julia sighed.

He rubbed her slumped shoulders reassuringly. “You're doing just fine. It's a phase. She'll get through it.”

“I'm sure she will. But I'm not so sure about me.”

Troy chuckled dismissively. But Julia, she hated admitting to herself, was only half kidding. They had made the decision to foster-adopt very quickly, on the rebound from the bad news of learning they couldn't have children of their own. Troy wanted to be a dad and Julia, to her own surprise, had wanted to give him a child. They had envisioned steering a stroller and carrying a diaper bag at this stage, not checking call histories for secret boyfriends or enduring temper tantrums over fashion statements.

“To be honest,” Julia began timidly, “I'm starting to wonder whether we should go through with it.”

Troy swung his head toward his wife.

She looked away to finish what she probably shouldn't have started. “Maybe we're not the right parents for Amanda.”

A long silence.

“Or rather, maybe I'm not the right mom.”

She knew Troy wasn't part of the problem. Amanda practically worshipped him, drinking in every affirming word like a thirsty flower eager to blossom into the beauty God had made her to be. One wink or frown from Troy was all Amanda needed to direct her searching footsteps. She relished his paternal presence. Julia understood why. Little by little, Troy had made her feel what Amanda was starting to relish. Secure. Protected. Cherished. All gifts Julia had never received from her own absent father. Things Amanda craved and deserved.

Julia's fumbling attempts at maternal guidance, however, seemed far less useful. Perhaps her energies would be better spent turning editorial phrases than spinning in circles trying to do a job for which she was so poorly equipped.

Troy placed a single finger on Julia's cheek and gently forced her gaze back in his direction. “You're a wonderful mother,” he said. “And it would kill Amanda to lose you.”

She knew he was right. Amanda had come a very long way since they first met. Julia couldn't remember the last time Amanda had spewed profanity or any of the colorful language one might expect from an orphan girl living with a porn-obsessed half brother and his domineering girlfriend. She had even learned basic manners and a near-ladylike posture much more befitting to her natural beauty. Amanda retained an innocence that, thank heaven, had been nurtured rather than violated as it might have been had they not plucked her out from under her half brother's licentious guardianship.

“I know,” she whispered while accepting Troy's refreshing embrace. “I guess I just didn't expect it to be so hard.”

“I understand,” he said, then extended his lips to her forehead. “Just give her some space. She'll be fine. You'll see.”

She glanced at her phone to confirm Amanda's proximity. Still three hundred yards away, probably standing in front of the same mirror admiring the same outfit Julia had vetoed. The outfit, Julia relaxed to think, Troy would soon convince Amanda to abandon with a quiet, redirecting frown.

Julia suddenly remembered the document. “Oh,” she said, “I almost forgot. You need to read the project summary Paul Daugherty sent me a few minutes ago.”

She tapped the icon before handing Troy her phone, then waited for an outburst of angry abhorrence. Rather than transform into the Hulk as she expected, however, her husband lowered his head and closed his eyes in solemn resignation.

“Wait,” she said. “You already knew about this, didn't you?”

“Not this specific project,” he confessed. “But I knew a large marketing budget had been established to beef up recruitment. It's one of the points of contention between Kevin and Senator Franklin.”

“So this is legit? They've hired a marketing agency to sell people on volunteering?”

“Not just one agency,” he explained. “Paul Daugherty might be the first, but he won't be the only.”

Julia grabbed the device from Troy's hand and began searching the document for a number. “Here it is,” she said. “A one-hundred-million-dollar advertising campaign targeting second-tier markets. What's that?”

“First-tier volunteers were the low-hanging fruit. You know, the terminally ill or chronically disabled. They were easy recruits, enabling the Youth Initiative to hit initial targets without much effort. They had hoped early momentum from tier-one volunteers would inspire the second-tier market to do likewise.”

“Second-tier?” Julia asked.

“Those with assets to transition but who don't face a terminal illness or protracted disability: the lonely, the depressed, and the potentially generous.”

“Potentially generous?”

“Those who might feel badly for spending would-be inheritance assets even though they are perfectly healthy.”

Julia nodded at the logic while squirming at the implication.

“Anyway, the Youth Initiative had projected significant growth in the second half of last year, but all of the bad press associated with the NEXT wrongful death appeal curtailed the rate of volunteers.”

“But NEXT won that case,” Julia said unnecessarily.

“They did. But they got a serious black eye in the process. Not to mention stealing all credibility from Franklin's ‘signs of progress' convention speech.”

Julia began to seethe at the snapshot of a deck stacked against every policy her husband and Kevin had been trying to advance. “Let me guess. They reallocated the Bright Spots funding to this marketing campaign.”

“Some of it,” Troy replied. “Until this moment, I didn't know how much.”

The phone chimed.

“It's her,” Julia said, extending the phone toward her husband. “You talk to her.”

He didn't accept the offer. “I think it would be better if you answered.”

She frowned in Troy's direction while tapping the answer button.

“Are you OK?” Julia asked rigidly, skipping her usual “Hello.”

A brief silence on the line, then a sign of surrender. “I shouldn't have stormed off.”

“No, you shouldn't have.”

“And…well…I'm sorry.”

Julia took a deep breath before saying what she didn't yet feel. “I forgive you.”

“Can you meet me at—”

“I know where you are,” Julia interrupted. “We'll be right over.”

“We?” Amanda asked with some concern.

“Yes, we.”

The call ended.

“Tell you what,” Troy said. “How about if you stop off to get an iced coffee while I meet up with Amanda?”

Julia liked the sound of the offer.

“I'll see you at Peak Grinds in ten or twenty minutes?”

She nodded while receiving her husband's peck on the cheek.

Julia looked up from the document on her phone. Something was gnawing at her instinct as an investigative journalist. The appalling nature of the entire marketing campaign, obviously. But there was more. Something about the fact that Paul Daugherty had landed the contract. She knew him well enough to distrust his explanation. A good word from Nicole Florea might have helped, but Paul would have been buried by Madison Avenue giants during the kind of competitive bid process tied to every federal contract.

She took another sip from her straw, only to hear the rattling emptiness of ice remnants.

“May I get a refill, please?” Julia asked after approaching the pimply-faced boy standing behind the counter.

“Tea?” he asked, shaking the cup as if listening for evidence of her selection.

“Iced coffee.”

“Got it,” he said before his eyes turned toward the sound of the opening coffee shop door. His gaze momentarily trumped Julia's request. She cleared her throat. “Oh, sorry,” he said with a blush.

Julia turned toward the door to discover what had distracted the young man.

“Wow!” she said toward a beaming Amanda. “You look…” Julia tried to find the right words.
Adorable
might sound too young.
Lovely
too old. She recalled the teenage boy's dropped jaw. “Like a model!”

“Thanks, Mom!” Amanda said gratefully and with a hint of sincere repentance.

“She insisted on wearing it out of the store so you could see,” Troy explained with a wink.

“Good choice,” Julia replied. “Very good choice.”

Amanda approached the admiring eyes of the much older boy behind the counter to order her favorite drink.

“I don't think I'll be getting my refill,” Julia whispered toward Troy, who was watching the scene like a sheepdog smelling a nearby wolf.

“Did she select that outfit herself?”

“Sort of,” Troy said slyly.

“Don't tell me how you did it,” Julia said before kissing her husband's hand. “But well done.”

While waiting for Amanda to finish flirting with the barista, Julia asked Troy whether he thought there was something suspicious about Paul Daugherty's call.

“Could be,” he said. “What, exactly, did he want?”

“He offered me a job,” she said dismissively, knowing she would never seriously consider the possibility.

“Really?” Troy said as if spotting a silver dollar on the sidewalk. “What did you say?”

Julia looked at her husband suspiciously. “I said to send me the project summary so that I could get him off the phone. You know how he is, never takes no for an answer. I figured ‘Let me think about it' might help me escape.”

Troy took a sip of ice water while staring out the window as if he were people watching. But Troy never watched people.

“Spill it,” Julia insisted.

“Spill what?”

“Whatever's on your mind,” she said. “I know that look, Mr. Simmons. You're mulling over some sort of strategy.”

He smiled in her direction. “Well,” he began, “I was just thinking about the Center for Economic Growth.”

Of course he was. The CEG had consumed nearly every waking hour since their trip down the river. Kevin had thanked Troy for steering the policy think tank through a very difficult year. He had managed to grow the donor base and expand the network of policy wonks. The fledgling organization had accomplished more than either had dreamed possible in such short order. But Troy knew much more needed to be done if they had any hope of serious influence on the national stage. All they had done so far, he had said, was identify emerging innovations in bright spot regions. What they really needed was to demonstrate just how many constituents supported Kevin's proposal over Franklin's plan.

“What about it?” Julia asked, unsure she wanted to hear Troy's answer.

“Well,” he said, “I was thinking about how hard it is to gain momentum. We're always playing defense. We spend so much time and energy correcting misleading characterizations of our vision that we can't seem to get on the proactive side of the debate.”

She waited for the rest.

“We keep getting blindsided and caught flat-footed,” he continued.

“And?” she asked warily.

“And it would be nice, for once, to know what's coming at us.”

“Such as details of the Youth Initiative marketing message?”

“Exactly,” he said. “I was thinking it would be helpful to have someone feeding us inside information so we can see the next salvo before watching it on television with the rest of the nation.”

“You mean someone like a former award-winning journalist who's just been asked to work with the lead agency?”

Troy raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Great idea! I never would have thought of that.”

Julia lightly slapped her husband's lying lips, then inspected the odd-shaped possibility from every angle. She asked the obvious question.

“Would that be ethical?”

“What's unethical about accepting a job offer?”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Is it right to say yes under false pretenses?”

He thought for a moment. “Think of it as undercover reporting. Only instead of working for RAP or Bing or some other syndicate, you'll be working on behalf of the citizens of the United States making sure not a dime of taxpayer money is wasted on frivolous expenses.”

She considered the suggestion. “Paul said he wanted my answer in the morning. I guess he's on a fast track to present initial creative concepts.”

“Listen, babe,” Troy said softly, apparently sensing her unease. “You have a lot on your mind with the adoption process and all.”

They both looked toward the girl who would soon be their permanent daughter. She smiled back in their direction from the counter with an
Isn't he cute
? finger wave. Julia smiled at the sight while Troy growled.

“And I don't want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, easing his gaze back toward Julia. “But I would love to have your eyes and ears in the middle of this campaign to help us head off the enemy at the pass.”

She squeezed her husband's hand. Did he really think she could help the cause? Or did he sense how much she missed being a player, how much she yearned to make a difference when the stakes were high?