Gathering String (28 page)

“Here now, Jack,” Augusta took his almost-empty coffee cup from his hands and filled it from an old enamel pot. “This is so much better than what comes out of those coffee makers.”

“Where’s Betty this morning?” Jack asked with a small, mischievous smile. He knew her visits to Lindsborg were few and unenthusiastic, and that Augusta had little patience for her daughter-in-law’s airs.

“Home, back in Des Moines.” Grimly, Augusta picked up the Governor’s plate. “Swan says she’s having clothes fitted so she can dress well during the campaign. She’d do better to buy off the rack and spend more time with the candidate.” With a sage nod, she set the plate into the warm oven, firmly setting her lips, having said all she was going to on the subject.

Jack and Peter smiled at each other over her comment. Elizabeth was attractive, smart and dignified, and she brought a fair amount of grace, if a predictable style, to any occasion. But Swede’s relationship with his wife was cool at best.

“Have you heard anything about the Chamber of Commerce fire?” Pete asked.

“Nothing. McPaul’s still trying to get the fire marshal to send someone out here. He tells me that it’s one office Swede ought to look into if he gets a chance.”

“Really?” Pete looked surprised. “Ralph Miller is the fire marshal.”

“Oh, he’s a nice man,” Augusta spoke from the stove. “He was the inspector when our store over in Sheffield burned. Remember, Peter, how upset Swan was about that mess?” She turned and said to Jack, “That was the last store Carl ever managed. It was awful, what happened, and Ralph Miller cut through miles of red tape.”

“Who did I appoint?” The governor’s voice cut in as he swung into the room, and plunked down onto the kitchen chair. Wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt, he was dressed like a country boy, but his easy, confident smile was the same one Sam Waterman had been watching for two weeks.

“Ralph Miller,” Pete answered. “Jack says Thurman McPaul’s having a hard time with his office. He still hasn’t sent someone out here to check out the fire at the Chamber office.”

“Hey, that was a tremendous picture in the
Record
. Tess sure knows what she’s doing,” Erickson said. Jack rolled his eyes. “As for Miller, I imagine his office is just swamped. These small-town volunteer departments have no idea how busy the fire marshal’s office can get.”

“You think a lot of this guy Miller? He helped you out with the fire in your Sheffield store?” Jack sat back, a little amazed that he’d managed to eat all the food Augusta had heaped on his plate.

Swede nodded with a tiny, reflective smile, and said, “Yeah. He did OK. Right after I was sworn in the first time, I had to put someone in as fire marshal, and he was one of the few qualified people I knew. Why?”

Jack shrugged. “A lot of folks around town are saying the office isn’t very well run. Long waits, badly written reports, that kind of thing. Maybe he was a better inspector than administrator. Think you could have missed with this one?”

Swede sat back as his mother firmly set his full plate in front of him. “I think it’s more likely that the guys down in the coffee shop enjoy grousing about him when they don’t know what’s involved in his job. But hell, I’ll check it out if I can find the time.” Frowning, he picked up his fork, his hand brushing the plate. With a jerk he pulled back, snapping, “Good God, Mama, this is hot.”

Turning to him, Augusta put her hands on her wide hips and sternly said, “Yes, God is good. And I won’t have my own boy being so free with His name, especially when he’s been so blessed. Now, if you hadn’t been on the phone so long, your plate wouldn’t have needed to be warmed. So don’t blame the Almighty for your own foolishness.”

All three men laughed, Swede jumping up and putting his arm around his mother. “Well, I may be the next president, but I still better watch my tongue around you, huh, Mama?”

Augusta didn’t laugh, but her face lit with one of her rare, beautiful smiles. “That’s right.” She gave him a light push on the shoulder. “Now eat that good food.”

It didn’t take Swede long to put away breakfast, making small talk between bites. Jack, relaxed and comfortable, savoring Augusta’s cinnamon-flavored coffee, was just thinking about leaving, when he noticed Augusta raise her eyebrows and incline her head toward the living room. Peter jumped up, as his mother moved off to the other room. With a grin Jack said, “OK, Swede, what’s up?”

Swede looked around as he wiped his mouth, “Not very subtle, are they? Yeah, I need to talk with you alone.” He got up and refilled his own coffee cup and freshened Jack’s. Putting the pot back on the stove, he said, “You know I cut Pat Donnelly loose?”

“Sure. I was sorry to read about it. He’s a good guy. Want to tell me what happened?” Jack noticed Swede’s face was suddenly weary.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I read that in Waterman’s story, but I didn’t think for a minute that was all there was to it.” He looked patiently at Swede, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, Jack frowned. “Ah come on, that dog doesn’t hunt.”

The frank skepticism stung the governor, and his voice rose. “I can’t afford any loose cannons on this campaign. It was my call, when to let the press know there’d be a debate.” Jack leaned back, sipping his coffee, his brows drawn down thoughtfully, but he didn’t interrupt. “It’s been a rough go, these last two weeks without a communications director. My chief of staff has a thousand balls in the air and doesn’t need the press breathing down her neck. I’m missing a senior advisor, and I feel it with that damn debate coming up. Pat knew his job. It’s just too bad he forgot his place.

“I’ve been thinking about who can fill his spot. I need someone who knows me, knows how I think and how I work. I want someone whose feet are on the ground, who won’t be so damned impressed by the national press corps. It’s got to be someone who’s had experience dealing with these carnivores.” Swede stopped abruptly, waiting. When Jack only stared back, he added, “Jackie, you’ve got to know what I’m driving at.”

“Sure. You want me.” Jack laughed as he spoke, thinking Swede would laugh too, and then tell him whom he had in mind. But he sobered instantly at Swede’s solemn, serious, silent face. “You’re joking.”

“Why not you? You’re a damn fine newsman, and you’ve been on the other side too. When you were playing ball, how many interviews did you give? How many stories were written about you, some of them under the worst possible circumstances? You know how the press works, inside and out. And you understand me about as well as Pete and Mama. I want to win, but I’m a reserved person. That’s the way I was raised, and you know all about that too. Between the two of us, we can keep the jackals at bay.” Jack could only stare at the governor, too surprised to respond. “You know how these sons of bitches try to swallow people whole. I need your help with it, Jackie.”

“Swede,” Jack found his tongue, “you had to know going in how intense the scrutiny was going to be. Maybe it’s a sadistic way of choosing a nominee, but it’s the way the system works. It’s been that way for years. There’s not a person on God’s green earth who’s going to change it now.”

Erickson nodded. “I know that. I’m asking you to help me control it.”

“And I’m telling you it can’t be done. Damn it, Swede, in a presidential race the media is a runaway train. The best you can do is hang on for the ride.” Swede slapped the table and looked away, swearing softly under his breath. When Jack went on, it was in a softer tone. “Besides, your image will hold up. You come from humble beginnings, you served your country honorably and well, you’re a self-made man. Come on, you’re the all-American guy.”

“I’m not,” Swede’s voice was a gruff whisper. “And you know I’m not, Jackie.”

“I do?” Jack was genuinely confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Swede glanced back toward the doorway, where his mother sat in the living room watching television. Finally he said, “Well, there’s Betty for one thing.”

“Look, you’re not the first candidate who wasn’t crazy about his wife. In fact, I always kinda thought that was a prerequisite.” Swede gave a small, rueful smile at that, and Jack added, “But she wants to be first lady. She’s going to be right there by your side, and she’ll warm up in front of the cameras.” Jack dropped his voice, his eyebrows raised. “And I assume that for a good many years you’ve either kept everything at home or else been very careful, because ever since you took office I’ve never heard a word of gossip. So unless some girl has pictures …”

“Yeah, I know.” A small smile played at the corners of Jack’s mouth. “You’ve been known to fix a few speeding tickets. I’ve never known how you do it, but I'm sure as hell not going to mention it to anyone.”

Swede shook his head. “A few? That’s an understatement. But that didn’t even make the worry list. No, there’s really just one serious thing on it. The old man.”

“Carl?” Even as he said it, Jack realized he should have been able to guess the name would come up. Swede’s relationship with his father had always been a sore point. “What difference could it make? He’s been dead for years. He was an alcoholic, Swede. Lots of people have relatives with that disease. How could it be a problem for you now?”

“It’s still painful, Jack. Maybe not so much for me, but for Pete and certainly for Mama. He was an embarrassment to us for years. I finally had to put him in the VA where he couldn’t do us any more harm. I was so fucking relieved when he died.” Even knowing what he did, Jack winced at Swede’s words. “When I saw them piling dirt on his coffin, all I could think was that he couldn’t do any more harm. I don’t want the stink of him drifting back on me now. Not now.” Swede muttered the last words, almost to himself.

Jack leaned forward. “What is it?” There was something, he could feel it; something specific in Swede’s mind that was driving his desperate tone. “What is there about Carl that all of Lindsborg doesn’t already know?”

Across the table their eyes met, and Swede’s jaw set as if against some deep pain. Jack saw him draw a breath, and he caught his own, filled with apprehension that his friend was about to say something dreadful. But when he spoke, all Swede muttered was, “Nothing. The whole town knows exactly what he was,” and he took a sip of his coffee. At Jack’s blank stare, he added, “He was a miserable father. If it hadn't been for Jim, for your dad, I wouldn't have known what a good man was. I don't want to waste a minute of this campaign pretending I loved a father I didn't.”

With a frown, Jack tried to shake off his own frustration at the oblique conversation. “Swede, I’ve got to tell you, Carl's problem is going to come up. The
Record
touched on it during your campaigns for governor …”

“Yes, but never in much detail. Besides, that was just the
Record
.”

“Right. But soon the national media is going to pick it up, and they’ll dig into it. You had to know they would. Sam Waterman’s coming to town.”

“He’s here. Checked into the Tall Corn Inn late last night,” Swede said.

“Well, sooner or later one of the town gossips is going to mention Carl. Instead of hoping to keep it quiet, I think you should be the one to bring it up first. Alcoholism isn’t the huge family shame it used to be. Just be matter-of-fact about it. Besides, it speaks to your strength of character, overcoming a lousy childhood and caring for a difficult man all those years.”

“That’s exactly what I do not want,” Swede slapped the table. “I don’t want any of my success to lie in capitalizing on that old bastard’s failings.”

Jack’s mouth drew down into a thin line. “Even if it makes the whole issue go away? Because I promise you, newspeople like Waterman won’t be interested in letting you beat a triumphed-over-adversity drum as big as that one. If they think you’re going to use it to make yourself look good, they’ll stop asking you about him. They won’t want to give you the opening.”

Whatever Swede was going to say next, he stopped suddenly as he considered what Jack said. And then, with the slight beginnings of a smile, he said, “My God, you’ve got a point. If they think I’m just waiting for the opportunity to talk about him, they’ll never bring him up. Jesus, Jackie,” the smile spread into a sly, appreciative grin, “what a savvy political mind you’ve got. Which proves my point. A man who offers me such solid advice has got to come to work for me.”

“Bullshit. How can you know? You’ve never been part of it all. I’m offering you a hell of a chance. I really believe I’m going all the way, and I’d sure as hell like to take you along with me.”

Jack nodded. “I appreciate that. In fact I’m flattered all to hell. But no.”

“Why?” It was Swede’s turn to look confounded.

Jack shrugged, uncharacteristically embarrassed. “I love what I’m doing. I really think I was meant to be here, running my hometown news operation. I look forward to work every morning. There are so many new things to try, so many chances for new business options and partnerships. I’m making a profit with new business models that the big papers couldn’t figure out and …” his head was ducked, and his face turned faintly pink, “I guess I’m proud of that. Why should I trade it to stand between you and the press corps with a whip and a chair?”