For the Record (Record #3)(96)

Feeling Brady’s arms around her, Liz knew that she would never have that problem.

Liz had gotten one of the other teaching assistants to cover her classes and informed her instructors that she would be absent the week before the election. She spent her days walking through neighborhoods, knocking on doors, making phone calls with volunteers, and handing out Vote for Maxwell fliers wherever she could. The poll numbers coming in had everyone on edge. Some numbers showed him down by a percentage point and then up by a percentage point, but either way the win-lose ratio was negligible. It was a perfect toss-up.

Volunteers pushed forward with renewed energy in the last leg of the race, encouraging people to vote down ticket for Brady after they voted for their presidential choice. There was always a tailcoat effect when it came to presidential elections. In a toss-up race, it generally helped the candidate who was of the same political party as the president. But the presidential race seemed to be just as close as the congressional race, so Liz wasn’t sure how much impact it would have. She hoped they both came out on top.

Clay and Andrea showed up Thursday afternoon to go canvassing, and asked for clipboards. Liz stared at them. As far as she knew Andrea didn’t do anything that involved walking or getting hot, unless you counted hot yoga. And Clay had never supported his brother in anything.

“What’s the catch?” she asked as she passed them clipboards.

“No catch,” Clay said.

“Do you even know how to canvass?” she asked him.

“Babe, I’ve been canvassing longer than you’ve been alive.”

“So . . . why are you doing it again?”

He shrugged it off. “It’s just what you do.”

“Even though you don’t agree with your brother?” Liz pushed.

“Just drop it. It’s no big deal.” He handed Andrea another clipboard and then they left.

Liz was dumbfounded. There were so many sides to Clay Maxwell that she couldn’t tell up from down when he was around.

“You know Clay is out canvassing for you?” Liz said when Brady showed up later.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t get it with you two.”

“Campaigning is in our blood. We’ve been doing it all our lives. He wants to be attorney general one day,” Brady said, calm and unconcerned, as if Clay always came around to helping before elections. But maybe it wasn’t that he always did it, rather that it was expected of him. Another Maxwell trait.

Savannah showed up every afternoon to help out despite her rigorous coursework and the school paper. Some days Easton would come with her to help, and he joked with Liz about how she needed to come back to tennis lessons. She missed them, but she didn’t even have time to plan her own wedding. Tennis was a little farther down the list.

The Saturday before Election Day, Brady addressed an outdoor Halloween festival. Hundreds of people showed up to hear him speak right before the election. Alex always stressed the importance of face-to-face contact. It was the old shaking-hands-and-kissing-babies branding, but it worked. He spent half the day doing just that—speaking to the people. Each contact brought him that much closer to winning the election; each person was one more vote.

When the event was nearing a close, Brady finally returned to her side. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t tell anyone I’m exhausted.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I still have to talk to the press. Come with me?”

“Of course,” she said, taking his hand.

They walked over to the reporters and questions immediately started flying for Brady. He answered them all with his campaign mask firmly in place. No traces of his exhaustion were present. In fact he looked as vibrant and confident as ever.

Heather came to stand at Liz’s side as she stood idly by, more as a source of comfort than anything.

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” Liz mused softly to Heather.

“It’ll be back before you know it.”

Liz wasn’t sure if that was meant as encouragement or not but she let it slide off of her. There were only two more days until Election Day.

“You know,” Heather said, “you should go stand up there with him. I bet there are more than a few reporters who wouldn’t mind asking you a question or two.”

Liz’s head whipped so quickly to the side that she got a twinge in her neck. She cringed and massaged the aching spot. What the hell was Heather getting at? “You . . . want me to talk to . . . reporters?” she stammered, certain she had heard her wrong.

“Do you think that you’re not capable?”

“No. Oh no, I do. I just . . . I’m confused.”

Heather sighed and then did something miraculous. She smiled at Liz. A real smile. “I believe you’ve earned that position at his side. I might not always approve of your methods, but they are effective. You stopped a potentially election-threatening scheme from unfurling. You have been with him every step of the way, even when it fatigues you considerably. You help him with his speeches and give him strength when he seems to be flagging. Though no one would know that but you or I. He loves you. The media will learn to love you. Go show them why.”

Liz stumbled over a thank-you, too shocked to know whether Heather understood what she was saying. She hadn’t thought she would earn Heather’s approval for years to come. She had been prepared to fight for it. And somehow she had earned it before the end of the election.