Godless (22 page)

He read the line twice before his still-fuzzy brain grasped the meaning. Charity Randall, it seemed, was paralyzed from the waist down. Was that why someone so young had volunteered? Perhaps she had become obese, making it difficult for an aging parent to lift her increasingly heavy form. Or maybe she had simply grown tired of the debit label commonly attached to disabled citizens. What was it like, he wondered, viewing oneself as a negative entry in a sinking economy's ledger? Would she view Matthew, or whatever pseudonym he received for this assignment, as a hero rescuing her from a lifetime of condemning stares? Or would she see him as a man who, under different circumstances, might have carried her over a honeymoon threshold rather than lifting her into a tub-shaped coffin?

He didn't want to know. Even if the girl considered herself worthless, Matthew could not imagine himself mustering the fortitude necessary to complete the assignment. He began retyping a refusal message but halted when he noticed the final assignment detail.

A rush of panic.
A Manichean
was the name Matthew had invented for himself a year before when signing letters to Judge Victor Santiago, the man who had died in a murder that had never been solved, and for which Matthew Adams had been the prime suspect.

“Stop fiddling
with that thing,” Angie said to Kevin as soon as she entered the bedroom. He was adjusting his bow tie for the sixth time in the five minutes it had taken her to slip into her new evening gown.

“Wow!” he said in her direction. “You look amazing.”

“Really?” she said doubtfully. “You aren't just saying that?”

Kevin continued to stare.

“What's wrong?” she asked while trying to inspect her dress.

“Not a thing,” he exclaimed. “You look stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

She blushed at his enthusiastic eyes.

“Kevin Tolbert!” she said playfully. “Wipe that hungry look off of your face. We have to leave for the fund-raiser. The senator's limo will be here any minute.”

He winked. “Can't we stay here instead?”

She gently patted his chest. “You have to go, silly: you're giving the keynote address.”

Angie handed Kevin her necklace before spinning around to face the mirror. “Now, help me with the finishing touch.”

He took his time with the latch while relishing the aroma of Angie's perfume. Their eyes met through the mirror. Then she shifted her weight just enough for their bodies to touch.

“You're killing me, babe,” he whispered into her ear. “Absolutely killing me.”

She giggled. “Come on. Let's say goodbye to the kids.”

Ten minutes later Kevin was standing outside a limousine introducing his wife to Joshua Franklin, the man likely to receive their party's nomination to the highest office in the land.

“Why, Congressman Tolbert,” Franklin said while accepting Angie's extended hand, “you never told me you were married to a model.”

Angie took the flattery in stride. “Actually,” she said, “I'm pretty sure Kevin is just about the only man in this town
not
married to a model.”

Polite laughter accompanied the trio's movement into the vehicle. A Secret Service officer closed the door behind them and patted the roof twice to signal “all clear” to the driver. They were off.

“Thanks for letting us join you in the limo, Senator,” Kevin said while feeling the soft leather seats.

“Of course. Anderson told me you had something important to discuss before I introduce you tonight. I hope you don't mind if we chat en route, this is the only opening I had.” He glanced at the time. “I'm all yours for about ten minutes, eleven if we hit traffic.”

Kevin looked into his wife's eyes. He accepted her reassurance gratefully. “It's about the Bright Spots proposal. I need to know—”

“Listen, Kevin,” Franklin interrupted. “I've been meaning to touch base with you on that. I imagine you were pretty disappointed in the latest revision to my plan.”

“Well, actually, yes. I was.”

“I don't blame you,” Franklin continued. “And I don't like it any better than you do. But these daily polls are a real shackle. You know how it is. Timing is everything. We can sell the American people on anything as long as we don't get too specific.”

“And my proposal is too specific?”

“Only this early in the process.”

“Well, it seems it wasn't too early for other specifics. You included the Robin Hood tax penalties.” Kevin paused to consider whether to say more. “And you backed the transition marketing project to the tune of a hundred million dollars.”

Franklin shuffled in his seat. “I did,” he said, “but only as part of a larger deal.”

“So you felt it was appropriate to support a project designed to grow the transition industry just before announcing my plan to shrink it?”

“That's a mischaracterization,” Franklin said.

“Is it?” Kevin pulled out his tablet and tapped the screen. He handed it to the senator. “Take a look at this.”

Franklin read through the list of marketing slogans that Julia had sent to Kevin right after the Launch Room session with Lancelot, Blackbeard, and the others.

“That's a first-draft list of ideas in development at the lead agency. But then, you've probably already seen these.”

“No, I haven't,” said Franklin. “What agency?”

“Daugherty and Associates.”

“How did you get this?”

“A friend works for them. They're on a fast track. Apparently someone insisted they launch the first phase of the marketing campaign during the convention.”

“During the convention. Really?” Franklin said. “I'll need to have someone look into that.”

Kevin glanced at a frowning Angie, then back toward Franklin. “You supported this project in a pretty public way before the convention. Why not do the same with my proposal?”

“I will back your proposal, Congressman,” said Franklin as if swatting away an annoying fly. “At the right time.”

“But the convention is only a few weeks away,” Angie said to Kevin's surprise.

“Yes, it is,” replied Franklin.

They waited for more. Nothing came, so Angie continued. “Don't you need the support of the Bright Spot's delegates?”

The senator's eyes shot in Kevin's direction. “Is she suggesting…?” He didn't need to finish. Both men knew what Angie had unwittingly implied.

As recently as July, political pundits had been speculating on the remote possibility of a brokered convention. While Franklin remained the clear favorite among fiscal conservatives, a growing number of delegates considered him too soft on tax reform. Support among some had shifted to the second-place candidate, Governor Wesley LaCalli. Franklin's cronies had tried to convince the governor to drop out of the race “for the good of the party.” Rather than comply, however, LaCalli appeared to be holding out for a spot on the ticket.

So the senator's team had identified a different strategy for securing the nomination. They suggested Franklin woo fans of Congresswoman Mary Ortega. The mother of three, including one disabled child, Ortega had dropped out of the race a month earlier. But not before accumulating the third-highest number of delegates, most of them fellow breeders. When Ortega ended her campaign, many of her supporters began taking cues from the young congressman from Colorado, Kevin Tolbert. The man who, until this moment, Franklin had assumed firmly in his camp.

“Angie's not suggesting anything, Senator,” Kevin said to break the awkward silence. “She's just asking a question. The same question I've been trying to ask you, but I haven't been able to get time on your schedule.”

“So you ask me now, on the way to an event where I plan to introduce you to my biggest supporters? What is this, last-minute posturing?”

“There's nothing last-minute about it, Senator,” Kevin replied. “You promised to include the Bright Spots proposal in your plan. But here we are, a few weeks before the convention, and I find out you've completely removed it.”

Franklin's demeanor softened. “Look, Kevin,” he said, “I made a promise, and I'll abide by it. I need you to trust me on that. But I won't be able to advance any plan if I don't lock up the nomination. And doing that requires a bit of…nuanced messaging.”

Kevin heard Troy's caution ringing in his ears. “
Don't trust him. He'll sell you out. Franklin has no intention of letting your ideas shape the party's agenda. His biggest donors live and die by quarterly earnings reports, not generational demographic trends.
”

He looked at Angie. Her eyes seemed to be shouting the same.

“I can't do that,” Kevin finally said.

Franklin's face chilled as quickly as it had warmed. “Can't do what?” he asked through a clenching jaw.

“How do I know you'll defend my proposals later if you aren't even willing to mention them now?”

A brief silence.

“What is it you want, Kevin?” Franklin asked warily.

“What I've wanted all along, to see this nation back policies that will make it easier for families to thrive and to give the old and disabled dignity instead of treating them like useless debits.”

“There, you see!”

“See what?” asked Kevin.

“That's exactly what I'm talking about. You can't use words like
families
and hope to garner the kind of support we'll need to win the White House. Nuance, Kevin, your proposal needs more nuance.”

“How else do you describe husbands and wives raising children together?”

“First, by calling them partners instead of husbands and wives. Your language excludes same-sex couples, the childless by choice, and a whole range of alternative options that have no interest in becoming breeders.”

Franklin appeared suddenly embarrassed, as if remembering to whom he was speaking. “Sorry,” he said in Angie's direction. “I didn't mean to offend.”

“We aren't asking them to become breeders,” said Kevin, squeezing his wife's hand. “But we are asking the government to acknowledge what the research clearly shows: it's in everyone's best interest to encourage stable families and to curtail transitions. Whether we like the choices they are making or not, breeders drive our long-term economic growth engine. You've seen the research, Senator. Forget about the social or cultural implications. You can easily defend it as sound economic policy.”

The senator chuckled to himself. “That's what I like about you, Tolbert. You're an idealist. A bit naïve at times, but you have a good heart.”

“Naïve? What do you mean naïve?”

“You don't really think voters are going to suddenly embrace breeders just because they represent economic stability, do you? No offense, but the majority of this nation sees you as…as…”

Angie offered assistance. “As religious zealots polluting the planet by spawning a bunch of crib-lizards who consume more than their share of resources and then have the audacity to keep their old and disabled loved ones around as pets when that money could have gone to younger, healthier citizens?”

Both men looked at Angie as if shocked that such a lovely mouth would repeat such raw, if common, depictions of her own subculture.

“Is that what you were trying to say, Senator?”

Franklin appeared flustered. Apparently Kevin and Angie Tolbert were less naïve than he had assumed.

Kevin smiled at his wife. Then he turned to grin at the senator. “Apparently not everyone sees a need for nuance.”

Franklin glanced at the time. “We'll arrive in a few minutes. Skip to the bottom line, Kevin. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to come out publicly in support of the Bright Spots proposal. Now.”

Franklin thought for a moment. “Even though it could kill my chances in the general election?”

“You don't know you can even secure the nomination without Ortega's delegates. And they want assurances the nominee cares about their concerns.”

“Assurances from you,” the senator added.

“Well, yes.”

Franklin looked askew at Kevin. “Assurances you won't give unless I give you what you want, is that it? Are you threatening to walk, Kevin, after all I've done to put you on the map?”

Kevin swallowed hard. To further agitate the prospective presidential nominee could sap whatever influence he still had with the party. But to cower would, he knew, undercut the whole reason he had run for office in the first place. Not to mention dishearten his watching bride.

“I'm not making a threat,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice. “But I am making a request. I'm asking you to do the right thing, to fulfill your promise so that I can fulfill mine.”

“Yours? What promise did you make?”

He swallowed again. “I made a promise…to God.”

A puzzled stare.

Kevin's wife took her husband's hand. “Angie and I had a good life in Colorado, Senator. We didn't need to run for office or endure the headaches and sacrifices these past several years have required. Believe me, I would have made a whole lot more money had I continued minding my own business instead of investing in campaigns and launching the Center for Economic Health.”

Kevin returned Angie's squeeze before continuing.

“But we believe to whom much is given, much is required. God gave me a wonderful wife and four great kids. He gave me a healthy body and mind. And he gave me a terrific partner with whom I was able to build a successful business. So I promised to leverage those blessings to make the world a better place. Or, more specifically, a less antagonistic place.”

“Less antagonistic to whom?” asked Franklin.

“To use your label, breeders,” Kevin answered. “Young couples who consider children a blessing rather than a burden. People who love and honor their aging parents rather than trade them in for cash. And those who serve disabled loved ones as fellow creatures who reflect the image of God rather than discard them as accidental genetic blunders. I made a promise to God, Senator Franklin. He always keeps his end of a bargain. So I fully intend to keep mine.”

The senator appeared speechless. “I can respect that,” he finally said clumsily.

“Can you?” Kevin asked. “Enough to publicly support my proposal?”

A brief silence. “Tell you what, Kevin, I'll show you how serious I am about my promise tonight.”

“Tonight? Why, what are you going to do?”

Franklin winked. “You'll find out soon enough.” He pointed out the car window. “Looks like we've arrived.”