Page 14 of Campaign Season
“Being in elected office—campaigning… aside from the bullshit, do you love it?” Jameson asked.
“Yeah. I do.”
Jameson felt a tug on her line.
“Shit! You have something,” Aubrey said, her eyes widening.
The pole bent sharply, the line singing as it cut through the current. Jameson planted her feet, the rod straining in her hands. “Oh yeah. That’s a fish.”
Aubrey scrambled closer, grinning like a child. “Big?”
“Feels like it.” Jameson’s arms flexed as she worked the reel, careful not to jerk. The steelhead fought hard, thrashing below the surface and sending ripples across the river. Camera shutters chattered in the distance, each click punctuating the moment.
“Don’t let it go!” Aubrey shouted.
Jameson chuckled through gritted teeth. “It’s not about brute force. You have to give a little when it runs—let it wear itself out. Then you reel it in, steady and patient.” She tugged, paused, let the fish surge, then reeled again.
A flash of silver broke the water, sunlight catching the arc of the trout as it leapt. Aubrey gasped.
“That’s a monster.”
Jameson’s smile widened. “Steelhead. They don’t give in easily. Grab the net!”
Aubrey seized the long-handled net, awkward at first, then steadied herself as Jameson worked the fish closer. “You’ve got it!” Jameson urged.
The trout thrashed once more, but Aubrey slipped the net beneath it and hauled it up, water spraying as the fish writhed, glinting like liquid metal. She laughed, exhilarated. “We did it!”
Jameson studied the fish for a moment before nodding for Aubrey to lower it to the shallows. Together, they freed the hook, Jameson’s hands guiding while letting Aubrey take the lead.
“Here’s the thing, Aubrey—politics is a lot like this,” Jameson said. “You cast your line not knowing what’s out there. You pick your bait, make your case, and sometimes all you reel in is weeds. But once in a while, if you’re patient—if you know when to fight and when to give slack—you land something bigger than you ever imagined.”
Aubrey glanced from the fish to Jameson, her expression caught between awe and thoughtfulness. “You think there’s something bigger out there for me?”
“I think you’d be a fool to rule it out.” Jameson smiled and nodded toward the river.
"You're going to let it go?" Aubrey asked.
"I am. He fought a hell of a battle. He's earned his freedom."
Together, they released the fish, watching it vanish with a flick of its tail.
“Don’t close yourself off, Aubrey," Jameson said. "You never know what’s waiting on the line.”
"Are you sure you don't want to be in politics?"
Jameson laughed. "I've learned a lot from being with Candace, not only about politics. There's always a time to push and pull, and there's always a time to let go."
"I'm surprised you didn't keep that fish."
"Maybe I just identify with it—being caught on the line. I don't regret anything about my life with Candace, Aubrey. Not one thing. But it comes with a cost. I had the ability to give something its freedom. That's what Candace is doing. She's holding the line so other people can be free—so someone like youcanfollow in her footsteps."
"Thanks. I have to say, this day turned out differently than I expected."
"Oh? How so?" Jameson asked.
"I don't know. The last couple of hours felt more like being with a friend than the First Lady."
"The First Lady is just JD, Aubrey. And I hope I am your friend."
