Gathering String (29 page)

“Because I’m probably going to win.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, you probably are. And then I’d have to live out east where the traffic is hell, and I’d have to pay half-a-jillion dollars to live in a house a quarter as big as the one I already own free and clear.”

“That’s where Tess came from, and you still seem pretty taken with her,” Swede pointed out.

Jack’s smile came back. “True. But I like to think she’s happier out here with me. Besides, I’m honestly looking forward to covering your campaign. How many small-town publishers get to say they really covered a presidential race? It’s going to be a great ride, and I want to write about it.”

Swede slowly shook his head. In spite of the smile, he could see the stubborn set of Jack’s jaw, and knew there was no point going on. “Well I’ll be damned. I don’t get many turndowns, my boy. I’ve got to admit, I’m a little envious. Not many men can claim to be so content.” Jack’s smile went a little sheepish and Swede asked with a laugh, “So, got any ideas who might be good to replace Pat? Because Waterman’s going to be on me like stink on shit, and he’s only the first.”

“You got that right. From the word down at the coffee shop, he’s lined up about half the town for interviews. He even called me at the paper Tuesday, asking if I’d talk to him.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Jack ran a finger around the handle of his coffee mug, remembering his conversation with Tess. “I might have done it if she’d insisted, but she understood when I said I was reluctant. In fact, she seemed relieved. He’s a hell of a newsman, but the guy would want to talk about my family and how you helped me out when they died. I never liked talking about that when I was playing ball, let alone now, all these years later. It’s not political fodder.”

Swede nodded, his face serious. “I can understand that, but to tell you the truth, Jack, I’m a little disappointed.” Jack’s brow furrowed. “You’d be one source I know is on my side. You know how to be careful in an interview. And like I just said, you’re politically savvy too. Come on, Jackie. You already turned down my job. The least you can do is help me draw this guy’s fangs.”

A reluctant half-smile came to Jack’s face. “Well, you know I always try to do the least I can do. But he’s lined up a ton of interviews. He doesn’t need me for the profile.” He was still hoping Swede would let him off the hook. Jack hadn’t liked the man. He hadn’t liked the way Waterman had parked at his desk and helped himself to his whiskey. He didn’t like the way he’d found him with Tess, or his edginess when Jack had offered to drive him to the Inn. And he especially hadn’t liked it when he mentioned in his blog that Jack had been on the platform during Swede’s declaration announcement.

Swede scoffed, “Naw, if he has to, he’ll bump somebody to talk to you. It’s a hell of a story, what happened to your folks. Sorry, but you and I both know it is, and he’s going to want to use it. Why don’t you give Waterman a call from here? I’ll bet you money he fits you in today. Then we’ll sit down and talk about the column you’re going to write about me rising above my father’s problems.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? It was your idea. I figure it’s only right for you to be the hack to write about it first.”

Swede was right. Sam was surprised by Westphal’s call and didn’t hesitate to nail him down before he could change his mind again. It didn’t hurt that it was still so early in the morning that Sam hadn’t even left his room at the Tall Corn yet.

“It’s out in the country and might be a little tricky for you to find. Besides, I’m already in town. I could meet you at the
Journal
. You know where that is,” Jack replied. But as he spoke, Jack remembered that Thelma had said she was going to come in to reconcile the month-end reports, and he knew she would be hanging around, trying to take in every word.

Sam said, “I want to take a drive out through the countryside anyway. You know, a little color for the narrative.”

Jack knew that was bullshit, but understood from his own experience that Waterman would prefer an interview at the house. A source is always more relaxed in his own home. But it would solve the Thelma problem. “Alright then, I’ll meet you there.” Jack gave him careful directions, explaining that the turn off for the house was just after the second bridge over Cat’s Ear Creek.

“The second one?” Sam asked. “I cross the same creek twice?”

“Yeah, it bends, you know, like a cat’s ear.” Westphal laughed. “Look, Tess is home, so if you get lost just give her a call, and she’ll talk you in.” And he rattled off the number.

“Fine.” Sam shrugged off trying to picture just what a cat’s ear looks like as he scribbled it down. “I’ll see you in an hour.” Quickly gathering up the things he’d need and scooping up the keys to the rental car, he hurried out the door. With a little luck, he’d catch Tess at home before Westphal got there.

Before Jack went back to the Ericksons’ kitchen, he tried his home number, but it just rang until the voice mail picked up. Tess was in the shower and didn’t hear it.

Sam missed the turn to the house the first time he went by. But it only took a mile of backtracking, and he caught it on the second go-round. Pulling into the drive, he gave a low whistle, looking at the white, square house with its huge wrap-around porch and deep green shutters, the undisturbed snow of the gently sloping front lawn dazzling in the winter sunshine. “Looks like Currier and Ives,” he muttered as he stepped out into the biting cold.

The wind was sharper here on the high hill, and he pulled up his coat collar as he hurried up the front walk. There was no doorbell, but when he knocked on the solid wood door, a dog on the other side began barking loudly. After a couple minutes he knocked again, and the dog increased its volume. If anyone were home, they’d certainly hear the noise. Huddling deeper into his coat, Sam was just considering going back to the car, thinking Tess had probably decamped in the face of his arrival, when the door opened.

She was wearing a pale pink V-necked sweater with black jeans, and her hair was wet. When she saw him, her blue eyes went wide. He started to say something, but she threw up a hand. “No. You are not pulling this shit here.”

“Shit?” He had no idea what she meant.

Color rushed into her face, and he realized she was suddenly and colossally angry. “You showed up at my door once before, betting I wouldn’t slam it in your face. Well, watch this.” Stepping back she shut the door, hard.

For a few seconds Sam just stood there, blinking. Then he tried a tentative knock, setting off the barking again. After a few minutes, he sighed and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and the scrap of paper with Westphal’s home number. As it rang in his ear, he could also hear it faintly beeping on the other side of the door. When the voice mail picked up, he hung up and hit the redial. On the third try it didn’t ring at all, just went directly to voice mail, and he figured she must have taken the phone off the hook. He was just raising his fist to pound on the door again, when it swung open.

With a cordless phone receiver in her hand, looking confused, she asked, “What the hell is going on?”

His mouth dropped open and he stammered, “That’s ... that’s what I was going to ask you.”

She shook her head. “When I went to take the phone off the hook, I saw the message light was on. Jack called to say he’d given you directions out here.”

“What did
I
do?” His breath smoked in the freezing air. “I flew into Des Moines about ten last night, picked up that cheap rental car, drove for over two hours, checked into the Tall Corn Inn, and went to sleep. I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee when Thor himself called me, gave me directions out here, and said you’d be home if he wasn’t here yet. I followed the directions, crossed Cat’s-fucking-Ear Creek twice, and here I am. That’s what
I
did.” He shivered a little, and answered her skeptical glare with, “Tess, he just must have changed his mind.”

“Why?” she insisted.

“Beats the hell out of me.” He stuffed his hands back in his pockets and shifted uncomfortably. “Look, it’s freezing out here. Can I please come in?”

She frowned more deeply. “I don’t think …”

“Oh Jesus, Tess, what do you think I’m going to do? Chase you around the living room like some old Harpo Marx movie?” She still hesitated, and he added, “He’s going to ask a lot of questions when he comes home and finds me frozen on the porch.” She gave him a sour look, stepping back, and he hurried into the warm kitchen. “Thank God,” he muttered, and then looked around. “Sweet Jesus, this place is huge.”

“What’s going on, Sam?”

“Look at this floor. I swear you could open a skating rink in this room. I’ve never seen a kitchen this big. That dog’s ugly though.”

He shook his head. “I’d already told Johnson he wouldn’t talk, so I lined up a batch of interviews with other ‘longtime Lindsborg residents.’ I was going to do my job and get the hell out of town, just like you asked.” He sighed as she continued to frown at him. “
He
called
me
this morning, I swear to God.”

“You didn’t leave him a message asking him to call you?” Sam shook his head. “You didn’t do anything to talk him into this?” Sam was still shaking his head, but now a grin spread over his face. “Then what made him change his mind?”

“Well Toughie, like I said, that’s what I wanted to ask you. I was hoping maybe you’d decided to cut me a break and asked him to do it, you know, for old time’s sake.” His sarcastic smile faded under her stony glare. Getting warmer, he shrugged off his coat, and dropped it on a kitchen chair. “This house is something.” He started toward the dining room, and she trailed after him. “So where is Handsome Jack this morning?”

“What does that mean?”

At her defensive response he stopped short, turning back to her, a curious look on his face. “It means, where is he this morning? It’s a simple question. What’s he doing? Working?” She looked away and walked past him into the living room, and now he followed. “Playing canasta? Cooking meth? I hear that’s big in the country.” He laughed a little, amused at her reluctance to answer. “Come on, Tess, he must have told you where he was going. It had to be pretty damn early.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam smiled as a slow certainty dawned. “A friend, like the governor maybe? He’s here, you know, got into town last night too.”

“Did he?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, he sure did. That’s where Captain America is, isn’t it? He’s with the governor?” Tess didn’t answer, but at this point she didn’t have to. Sam knew how to add too. “And then, bingo, he suddenly has a change of heart about sitting for an interview with me. Erickson asked him to call me, don’t you think?”

“Why would he do that?” She asked the question as much to herself as to him.

Sam’s smile spread. “I’m not sure. But I’d like to find out.” He gave a low whistle as he spied the sound system behind her. “Nice.” He turned and went through the French doors into Jack’s den. Pointing to the slick, new laptop resting on the shining cherry wood of the desk, he added, “The Norse god has some great toys, the best his daddy’s farmland can buy.” He started to move around to the back of the desk. “Remember that talk we had at his office the night Erickson declared?”

She went past, blocking him from flopping down into Jack’s desk chair. “Of course.”

“I told you then Erickson was using your old man, and you said it didn’t bother you. I’m just curious, how’s that going down this morning? Because I sure as hell never expected to see the inside of this house and now, thanks to the governor, here I am.” He was half laughing.

“You think this is funny?” An angry flush spread up her neck and cheeks.

“I think this is fucking hilarious.” He did laugh loudly, and from the kitchen, Rover started barking again. Sam prowled past her toward the wall of bookcases. “And if you still had any sense of humor, you would too.”

“Come on, Sam. I do not want this in my life now.”

“None of us do,” he still chuckled as his eyes roamed over the jammed bookshelves. “You don’t, for obvious reasons. Prince Charming knew he didn’t, although he probably can’t put his finger on just why.” He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “But he certainly has good instincts. And I sure as hell would have preferred to duck sitting down with your new husband for a chat. But now, thanks to Swede Erickson, here we are. What a fucking hoot.”