For the Record (Record #3)(64)
She even saw Heather nodding along with Brady’s speech. It was nice knowing that she wasn’t immune to his onstage demeanor. Though it shouldn’t have surprised her. Heather was a professional, but believed in Brady and what he stood for. She wanted to further her own career through him, but she trusted him.
Liz trusted him too. Hearing him speak about his love for the people and his desire to continue to enact change only reminded her all over again why she had fallen for him and how he had won her vote. She had thought that he was just in it for the fame and fortune. Lining his pockets with ill intentions while fooling everyone with a pretty face and good pedigree. He couldn’t have proven her more wrong.
She held her breath as he got to the next part of the speech, the part that she had helped him work on. His audience was captivated as he started in.
“When I was elected to serve as the member of Congress for the Fourth District of North Carolina, you conferred on me your support and your trust. You believed me when I said that I was going to take your beliefs and ideas to D.C. with me and look out for your benefit,” Brady said, pacing the stage. “Over the past two years, I’ve done exactly that. Whether I was spending my time on the education committee trying to enact better legislation for our future leaders, helping to get more appropriations for the research community we have invested in, or just spending countless days working among you, listening to you, and taking into account your concerns.
“I was in Chapel Hill just this last year for a special political journalism colloquium hosted by the university. At that event, I, along with several of my colleagues, spoke about the future of our country. We reached out to students, faculty, as well as any other citizen who chose to attend the function. We wanted to hear you and we wanted you to hear us. We’re here for you. No matter where you come from or what you’re doing right now, this is your country.”
Liz smiled as she heard her words spoken into the crowd. It was magical, almost like a fairy tale, to hear someone so compelling deliver her words. It almost gave her the same amazing feeling as when she read her words in print and when she saw other people reading them too. But this time it was Brady, and he was swallowing the room whole with them.
The next part was what Brady added, and it made her blush every time.
“A particularly precocious young woman spoke during this colloquium regarding education policy. I asked her one question—what important factor from her research should I take back to D.C. regarding education? Her response stuck with me to this day. She said to treat students as individuals and not as numbers on paper. I could never agree more. I never want to treat any of you as a number, but rather as individuals. And the only way I can do that is to win another term in the Congress.”
The crowd cheered uproariously at the mention of him seeking another term. Brady waited until the crowd died down and then finished the remainder of the speech that his speechwriter had put together. It was brilliant. He was brilliant. He had the crowd at attention and she knew just by hearing the chants and seeing their enraptured faces that they were with him through and through.
Brady barreled down the stairs and scooped Liz up. He planted a kiss on her lips before releasing her. “You were incredible,” she told him.
“They loved your words, baby.”
“They love you!”
“We’re a team,” he whispered. She shivered at the way he said that and couldn’t keep from inwardly jumping up and down. That was nothing short of what she wanted with Brady.
“That was fantastic,” Heather told him. “Now let’s move on to the interview and soon enough you’ll be on your way to dinner.”
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Brady answered question after question regarding his reelection efforts. He smiled and stood for photos. On occasion she would even stand with him when interviewers asked if their photo could be taken together. Heather scowled every time it happened, but she could hardly deny them when Brady himself seemed eager for her to be standing there.
Liz excused herself from the donor meeting that Brady had to be in attendance for to work on her next article. Since her previous columns were still getting some good press, the editor had offered her a feature piece. He still tried to get her to use her real name, but after she had explained to him that she had no desire for it to show up in papers, he had stopped bothering her. He had started jokingly titling her papers Dear Congress, as a play on the advice columnist Dear Abby, and the name had stuck.
This was the first article that she had written where the idea had manifested from a conversation with Brady. It had taken hold while she was helping him write the speech he had just delivered, where the emphasis was on the individual rather than the masses. She hoped that it didn’t align too closely with his speech, and she might even have him take a look at it just to be sure. In the meantime she just needed to get something down. She couldn’t fix a blank page.
“Knock-knock,” Brady said, appearing in the open doorway.
“Hey,” she said with a smile.
“You ready to get out of here?”
“Dinner?”
He nodded. “I wish we were going straight home.”
“To bed?” She closed her laptop and stood.
“That works.”
“Do we have time for me to change?” She had been in this blue cotton shirtdress all day and she wouldn’t mind a change in appearance before they met with a lobbyist.