The Candidate by Paul Harris Page B

closed her eyes a moment and listened to the local high school band striking up a welcoming tune and the deafening roar of the crowd as Hodges and Christine walked on stage. She opened them again and saw Mike standing beside her.
    “Hey, buddy,” she said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were making sure logistics are all good for tomorrow’s run up to Sioux City?” Dee frowned. “And you’ve also got a little trip to the jail later, Mike. The warden is expecting you again. We’ve got to keep digging on our shooter. Keep interviewing her until we find something. It’s top priority.”
    Mike looked past Dee’s shoulder and saw Hodges trying to quiet the crowd that was loudly cheering his name. It seemed an impossible task.
    “She hasn’t said a word, Dee. Not a single word,” Mike said.
    Dee smiled thinly, her lips disappearing into a pencil-drawn crease. “I’m sure you are quite the charmer when you want to be, Mike. It’d be a good idea to get that charm working.”
    Mike nodded. “It’s all in hand,” he said. “I’m going back to the jail this afternoon. I just wanted to come by a campaign stop again. Soak up a bit of the feeling. I’ve felt a little too inside the loop the last few days.”
    Dee knew what he was saying. She sometimes got that way too. It was good to remind yourself of why you worked 20 hour days. Of why scores of people did not see their families, spouses and loved ones for weeks or months. She put a hand on Mike’s shoulder.
    “Good idea,” she said.
    Together they stood in silence and watched Hodges work the rope line that kept the people at the front of the crowd from storming the stage. Then he stood back, gave a few thanks to local dignitaries and launched into his stump speech. It touched all the familiar points: the need for jobs to help ordinary folk live the lives their parents had, to give them better health care, to restore the country’s sense of dignity and possibility in the world. He seemed three feet taller than anyone else in the room as he spoke. His voice carried everywhere, full of dignity and purpose, warm, yet firm. It invaded the crowd, stilling them at first and then carrying them onwards and upwards, suddenly alive with possibilities. When it was over, there was a huge standing ovation. Hodges and Christine embraced, laughing and kissing like young lovers at a prom, beaming smiles and waving at the cheering throng.
    “Those two must hug and kiss like that four or five times a day, but each time it still looks genuine,” said Mike.
    “That’s because it is,” said Dee. “You never seen love before, Mike? Real, honest true love? There’s not much Jack Hodges does that isn’t the real thing. I’m pretty sure his marriage is part of it. Thank God for us. I’ve had more than my share of campaigns ruined because the candidate was a horn dog.”
    They watched Hodges and Christine leave the room and then finally Dee gave an exaggerated wave of her arms as she called out to a waiting throng of reporters.
    “Come on then, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, let’s hear what you have to say,” she said, and was immediately mobbed by a pack of reporters, clamoring with questions. Mike stepped back, eager to avoid the crush and attention. But one person followed him as he turned away. Lauren O’Keefe. She walked over and gently touched him on the arm. He looked into her open smile and stopped.
    “Hi, Mike,” she said. “How’s the campaign treating you?”
    Mike felt a flush of blood to his face. He could not help it and the sudden feeling caught him by surprise. “Good,” he said. “Tiring though. Non-stop work.”
    “Did you see my blog post about the shooter? I was just wondering what you thought about it. Did it get any reaction from Hodges?”
    Lauren’s face was still smiling, but Mike shook his head. “I didn’t see it, Lauren,” he lied. “And I can’t talk about stuff like that. On or off the record.”
    Lauren shrugged.