Dissident (The Bellator Saga Book 1) Read online

  “You’ve had a rough year, Caroline. You made a couple of mistakes. It’s okay.”

  Another understatement. Bob had an exceedingly benevolent interpretation of reality when people he cared about were involved.

  “I know.” She looked down at the floor.

  Bob reached down to pat her shoulder again. “You’re going to be fine. You know that, right?”

  “It sure doesn’t feel that way sometimes.” Caroline looked at her watch. “I’ve got to round up the girls and get them to bed.” She squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Bob.”

  “Anytime, sunshine. And if you call me Mr. Speaker again, it ought to damn well be at a press conference or on the House floor. You know better.”

  She returned his smile. “Yes, sir.”

  * * * * *

  Caroline turned down the covers as Marguerite and Sophie snuggled into bed. She crawled onto the mattress and shifted in between them, kissing their foreheads in turn.

  “Have you had a good week?” she asked.

  “It’s been okay,” said Marguerite.

  “I ate lots of candy,” said Sophie.

  Sophie was known to shovel food into her face like a champ, a gift she inherited from her mother. And Caroline had indeed done nothing but eat cookies and sweets herself for the past week.

  “Maybe we’ll stay here tomorrow too,” Caroline said. “Then Chrissy and Tom and the girls can follow us back home before the swearing-in.”

  Her children were quiet. She knew what they were thinking. They’d had a nice respite but they’d soon return to the emptiness of their normal lives. Even having Christine with them most of the time hadn’t managed to fill the gap.

  “It’ll be good to have a new year. Right, mom?” Marguerite asked.

  Caroline slid down to lay next to her daughters and hold their hands. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we should make a wish,” Sophie said.

  “Good idea, Feef,” Caroline said. “What should we wish for?”

  “I want a pony!” she exclaimed.

  “Darling, we’ve talked about that. The backyard’s not big enough. Plus, you don’t get a pony before I do.”

  Sophie looked disappointed but not discouraged. “How about a puppy instead?” she asked.

  “That I’ll consider. We’ll see how the rest of the winter goes. What about you, Mo?”

  Marguerite rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I think we should all try to be happy.”

  Caroline squeezed Marguerite’s hand tighter as she fought back tears. “I think that’s a great idea,” she whispered.

  Marguerite propped herself up on one elbow. “Especially you, mom.”

  Caroline caressed her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll try, Mo Mo. I promise.”

  Her eldest daughter leaned in for a hug. “We should all try to be more positive too.”

  Caroline kissed her forehead. “Let’s do that then. No more negativity and maybe a dog. That’ll work. Come here, Feef.”

  Sophie cuddled into Caroline’s other side and they all held on to each other for what seemed like a very long time. Soon Sophie was asleep and Marguerite wasn’t far behind. Caroline removed her arms from around their shoulders and crept out of the room as quietly as she could. She rested her head on the doorjamb, watching her daughters sleep peacefully.

  “I’ll try, my angels,” she whispered. “I will.”

  * * * * *

  Caroline walked down the hall to the study, which was empty. It was one of her favorite rooms in the Sullivan home. Built-in bookshelves, tons of political nonfiction and history, Tom’s memorabilia from his days at Notre Dame…she loved it. Best of all, it had a fireplace (on the second floor no less) which Caroline considered to be the epitome of hoity-toity. Chrissy and Tom definitely knew how to live a sweet upper class life. She poked the embers and added another log to keep the smoldering fire going, then sat down on the couch facing the fireplace.

  She scrolled through her phone, responding to a few texts from Kathleen and Jen. She took a moment longer to send a message to Ellen Goldman, the junior Senator from California, who was another close friend. They’d been texting back and forth over the holiday recess and Ellen had worked in a couple of jabs about how warm it had been in L.A. over Christmas. Caroline had to find a way to get even after the new session of Congress started. She was contemplating fiddling with the thermostat in Ellen’s office, maybe building a snowman on her desk, but she wasn’t sure she could count on Ellen’s aides to keep quiet. She’d definitely think of something.

  She checked the time. It was almost the end of the year. Caroline had no need to be with the other revelers at midnight. It was her first time alone on New Year’s in a very long time. Nicky always hated New Year’s Eve and found it to be a redundant holiday, but she still dragged him to Bryn Mawr year after year. He never liked politicians, so being surrounded by normal people for the evening made it much more appealing. They’d drive up from Rockville, he’d laugh and chat with the Sullivans’ friends, they’d both drink far too much, and at the end of the night they’d make out as the ball dropped.

  Caroline remembered the year before, when he kissed her passionately at midnight then passed out in the guest room after convincing Tom to split over thirty craft beers between the two of them. Christine hadn’t been too happy about that. Nicky and Tom got pretty obnoxious when they were boozed up. That had been a good night. One of her last really cute memories of him, and less than three weeks later he was gone.

  She heard the door creak and turned her head. John McIntyre poked his head in, his hands behind his back. He scanned the room.

  “May I come in?” he asked politely.

  Caroline pursed her lips. She really didn’t want to deal with him again, especially if all he was going to do was insult her. But a negative attitude was inconsistent with the resolution she’d made with her daughters.

  She forced a smile. “Sure.”

  He started to enter the room, then stopped. “Close your eyes.”

  What an unusual request. But she obliged. Caroline heard him walk over to the couch and sit down beside her.

  “You can open them,” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

  She blinked as McIntyre turned to face her.

  “My behavior earlier this evening was disgraceful,” he said. “I’m deeply sorry for the manner in which I spoke to you before.”

  “You are?”

  “I am. I think we should start over again.”

  The change in his personality was astonishing. This was a completely different person from the man she’d met downstairs.

  “Okay,” Caroline said warily.

  He stuck out his hand. “I’m John Montgomery McIntyre. My friends call me Jack.”

  She decided to be a good sport and shook his hand. Caroline was walking the fine line between comfortable and buzzed and it emboldened her. She probably shouldn’t have let Tom fix her that last drink.

  “Does that mean I get to call you Jack?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Caroline Joan Gerard, since we’re throwing middle names in there.”

  “I like to exchange introductions with a touch of formality.” He probably sounded a little more pompous than he’d intended.

  She smiled. “Whatever you say, John Montgomery.”

  “Are you making fun of my family name?”

  “A little. That’s like the whitest white guy name in the history of whiteness.” Caroline laughed at his expression. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Can I call you Monty?”

  “You’re the first person who’s ever asked me that.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Of course I am. But you should know I’ve never granted such a request. And most of my family is Black Irish, for your information. Maybe we should get to know each other better first. Nicknames are a big step. Do you have any?”

  She blushed. “I have one, but it’s kind of random.”

  “Do tell. I
noticed that the Speaker calls you sunshine.”

  Caroline blushed even deeper. She was lucky that she had such a good relationship with the most powerful man in Congress. A lot of Republicans and even more Democrats didn’t like it. “That’s more a term of endearment than a nickname.”

  “Any others?”

  It was kind of embarrassing for her to disclose it to someone she’d just met, but whatever. “Christine’s husband Tom calls me Punky.”

  Jack stared at her blankly.

  “Like Punky Brewster.”

  Still no response.

  “From the TV show.”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Didn’t you watch TV in the eighties?”

  “Not really. I was a teenage boy and I was into other things. Who is this Punky person?”

  “You’ve got to get on YouTube posthaste. I loved that show growing up. She was a working class kid, warm and funny, always playful. A glass overflowing kind of gal.” Caroline paused. “Tom says I remind him of her.”

  “Is that who you are?”

  She instinctively fiddled with her left ring finger. She still wore her wedding and engagement rings, maybe out of habit. And it really hadn’t been that long.

  “It’s who I used to be,” she said. “Most of the time.”

  “What about now?”

  She cleared her throat, shaking off the melancholy. “I’m working on now.”

  “Does Punky wear ugly sweaters?” Jack asked with a grin.

  She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “I may have spoken some very hard truths to Tom about his holiday wardrobe during last year’s party. As punishment I am forced to bear the scarlet letter that is this ugly sweater.”

  “It’s very busy.”

  Jack probably didn’t have anything like that in his closet. He was wearing an expensive tailored suit, very Savile Row, which was an unusual selection to wear to what was a casual party by Christine’s standards. Caroline hadn’t thought to comment on it. Maybe he always dressed up or had been under the impression that this was some sort of highbrow Congressional thing. But the conversation was about to veer off course and that wasn’t what she wanted.

  “I really do want to explain what happened during the campaign,” she said.

  His eyes darkened. “Forget about it. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. It was a horrible thing to say about someone I didn’t know. Especially considering your opponent was and is an incredible jerkwagon.”

  “He’s a what?”

  “You know. A jerkwagon. Douche, asshole, jackass, whatever. I like to expand my arsenal of insults whenever possible.”

  “You really think he’s that bad?”

  “Yes, unfortunately for me I didn’t figure it out until after I’d endorsed him. But I couldn’t very well take back what I said. Even though I wanted to.”

  It had been all over social media. The speech quickly became red meat for the Democratic masses and cannon fodder for the GOP. Caroline hid under a rock for a couple of days afterward and flew off the handle any time anyone used her statement in another attack ad. Which happened far too often.

  “I guess not,” Jack said.

  “I wish I had. I should have had the courage to do it. I wish I’d never said any of it. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Caroline took a deep breath. “It’s been a bad year for me. It’s not a valid excuse but it’s the only one I have. Those comments were borne of depression and sadness and my desire to make someone else feel as badly as I did. I get very snarky when I’m upset, which some people find endearing in a weird way but it usually ends up making me disappointed in myself.” She turned to face him. “I’m thankful you won. I would have felt terrible if you hadn’t.”

  “Really?” Jack sounded surprised.

  “I harbor a lot of Catholic guilt.”

  “So do I, but I don’t take it nearly that far.”

  “Anyway, what I said about you wasn’t true. It’s not what I believe. I don’t even know you. It was unfair for me to make assumptions and judge you like that.”

  Jack was looking at her strangely.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You seem very sincere.”

  Caroline tried not to sound offended. “I’m being completely sincere.”

  “I know.” His voice was quiet. “It’s not what I expected from you.”

  “Did you expect me to be a total bitch?”

  He shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Apology accepted. Let’s move on.”

  “Okay.”

  “Except there is one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s play a game. I’ll give you clues and you can guess the answers.”

  Was he flirting with her? Her mind was a little foggy after the few drinks she’d had and she couldn’t tell. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

  “A little bird told me you’re the reason he endorsed me. Guess who?”

  “That would be one Robert Allen, otherwise known as our very competent Speaker of the House.” Caroline shook her head. She should have known Bob wouldn’t listen to her. “That man can’t keep a secret to save his life. I told him not to tell you. Honestly.”

  “And then another little bird very angrily informed me that I wouldn’t even be at this party if she’d had her way, because someone like me would never be allowed within a hundred feet of her house under normal circumstances, but you had begged her to invite me.”

  Caroline could hear Christine’s voice echoing in her head. “Oh, that’s definitely Chrissy.”

  Jack looked at her skeptically. “You call Representative Sullivan ‘Chrissy’?”

  Caroline nodded. Christine was a formidable, smart, and shrewd politician, but she had a chilly reputation among many Pennsylvania Republicans. Caroline and Tom were constantly trying to get her to relax. She didn’t exactly evoke the warm fuzzies from pundits either.

  “She’s one of my best friends but I don’t know how I get away with it,” Caroline admitted. “She would smack the hell out of anyone else who called her that, except her husband.”

  “Does she call you Punky too?”

  She stifled a laugh, surprised that he remembered that. “Sometimes. When she’s feeling particularly protective of me.”

  “You need protection?”

  “Mostly from myself.”

  “Interesting. So then this other little bird-”

  She held her hand up. “Did you talk to everyone downstairs about me?”

  “No.” He started to get up. “Should I?”

  “Definitely not. But there appear to be a ton of little birds at this party who can’t keep their beaks shut.”

  Jack looked a little uncomfortable. “I won’t lie. After I ran into you I had all but decided that sticking around wasn’t worth it, but the Speaker tracked me down as I was walking toward the door. Then Representative Sullivan arrived and.…”

  “All hell broke loose?”

  “Practically.”

  “You’re lucky she isn’t drinking tonight. It might have been worse.” Christine didn’t drink much, and when she did it never ended well. Caroline had seen her lose her shit once after downing a couple of Cosmopolitans. It had been a touch alarming but comical nonetheless.

  “At any rate, their posturing convinced me to stay.” Jack seemed to be considering his words. “They both think very highly of you.”

  Caroline looked down at her lap. “That’s nice.”

  “You’re blushing. You don’t take compliments very well, do you?”

  She didn’t, especially from people she didn’t know. Caroline was more apt to focus on criticism, which made being a public figure very hard sometimes.

  She peeked over at him. “No.”

  He gave her that strange look again and switched direction. “There’s one more bird for you to guess. This little bird insisted I come upstairs with a peace offering and give you another chance to apologize.”
Jack pulled a bottle of Moscato and a corkscrew from beside the couch. “He told me it was your favorite.”

  “Tom!” Caroline exclaimed. “I am quite fond of that talkative little bird.” She clasped her hands together and looked at the label. “That is my favorite.”

  Tom always stocked the wine refrigerator well when he knew Caroline would be visiting but she thought they’d finished the last of the Moscato on the day after Christmas. She had indulged quite a bit during the past week even though she didn’t normally drink. Although she realized she had started drinking more since Nicky died. She wondered if maybe she should quietly resolve to bring her alcohol consumption back down again in the coming year. She didn’t want to turn into Kitty Dukakis.

  Caroline glimpsed the red Solo cups Jack had also magically produced. “Tom’s wife would be appalled that he didn’t give you proper glassware,” she said. “And I’m a little upset you didn’t whip this out when you first got up here.”

  “I thought I’d talk to you a bit before I started to give you free access to alcohol. I’m fairly certain you’ve had a couple already.” He opened the bottle and poured her a generous cup, then a smaller one for himself. “Cheers.”

  Caroline looked at her watch. It was past midnight. “We missed the ball drop. I hope you’re okay with that.”

  Jack took off his suit jacket and draped it across the back of the couch. “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit up here. I don’t mind.” He retrieved his cup from the coffee table and held it up. “To a fantastic new year.”

  He was wearing suspenders. And expensive cufflinks. And a tie that probably cost more than Caroline would spend on a single dress suit. For a simple New Year’s Party. But, oh my. Those suspenders, hugging close to what appeared to be a very fit body. She was a complete sucker for men in suspenders. She caught a whiff of his cologne as he settled back into the couch. He definitely didn’t go cheap. Shit. Men’s cologne was one of her weaknesses too.

  Caroline found his physical presence a little more unnerving than she expected. He was very well put together. She shook her head, jarring her brain free of all the naughty thoughts that suddenly flowed through her. Maybe it was the alcohol. She tapped his cup with hers, plastering a grin on her face to mask her embarrassment. “Hear hear.”