Page 66 of Campaign Season
“Jameson is lost? Where did she go?”
“I dunno! We were playing the hiding game. Spence and Coop found all of us. But not Jay.” He tugged insistently on Candace’s hand. “You gotta help, Nana.”
“Let me grab my jacket,” Candace said, rising with a grin. “We’ll find Jay.”
Pearl snickered as Brody pulled Candace toward the backyard. “Those poor Secret Service agents,” she murmured, shaking her head.
The front door opened, letting in a gust of cool air and the shuffle of shoes. Michelle, Jonah, Marianne, Scott, and Laura stepped into the kitchen, shaking off the November chill.
Pearl didn’t turn from where she stood at the back door, one hand braced on the frame, her shoulders trembling with laughter.
“What’s so funny, Grandma?” Marianne asked, setting her gloves on the counter.
Pearl lifted a hand, pointing toward the yard. “Look for yourselves.”
The others crowded behind her, curious.
Out in the yard, Candace jogged across the grass, her jacket flaring behind her like a cape. The kids darted around her, shrieking directions as if they were commanding troops on a battlefield. “Over here, Nana! No, this way! She’s hiding!”
Michelle pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“She'll be in a pile of leaves before it's over,” Pearl said through her laughter. “She’s looking for Jameson.”
Jonah leaned closer to the glass, blinking in disbelief. “I don't think most people would believe the President of the United States is playing hide-and-seek in the backyard.”
“Correction,” Scott said, grinning. “She’s losing hide-and-seek.”
Candace bent low, peering behind a pile of wood, then stood and turned toward the barn. She called Jameson’s name as iftrying to negotiate a treaty, her breath clouding in the crisp air. The kids squealed and pointed toward the old wheelbarrow near the side of the barn, but Candace ignored them, determined to make the search fair.
Then, with a triumphant laugh, Jameson burst up from the leaves, twigs tangled in her hair and dirt smudged across her cheek. She threw her arms in the air like a victorious gladiator. “Ha! I found myself!”
The yard erupted in giggles, Brody and Jay Jay nearly doubling over as Spencer collapsed into the leaves beside her.
Candace shook her head, laughing despite herself as she trudged over to help Jameson out of the mess. “You’re impossible,” she said, brushing leaves from her wife’s shoulders.
“And you love me for it,” Jameson shot back, planting a quick kiss on Candace’s cheek before jogging past her toward the house, covered in twigs and glory.
Inside, the adult children exchanged looks—bemused, touched, and maybe a little in awe.
Michelle exhaled a soft laugh. “And Mom callsuslunatics.”
“Well, it's probably what keeps us all sane,” Marianne added.
Pearl’s smile lingered as she finally closed the door against the chill. “No probably about it,” she said.
Wednesday Evening
Pizza had won the night, boxes stacked on the counter like bricks in a temporary fortress. Candace had slipped away to her office to take a few calls, leaving Jameson in the living room with the rest of the family.
Spencer and Cooper had disappeared upstairs to play a game. The younger kids, worn down by raking leaves and chasing each other across the yard, fidgeted restlessly despite their exhaustion. Their energy sputtered like a candle nearing the end of its wick, the unspoken grief in the house making them edgy in ways they couldn’t name.
Jameson’s gaze shifted to the older children. Marianne sat with quiet steadiness, her posture calm, her voice light as she helped Spencer with his plate. Jameson suspected this calmness stemmed from the long hours Marianne had already spent at her father’s side and from the familiarity with loss she had experienced before.
It was strange, Jameson thought, how death could feel both expected and shocking at the same time. She hadn’t been truly surprised to lose Jonathan; his illness had been a long road. Yet, when the moment came, it still carried the sharp sting of finality. One second, he was there; the next, he wasn’t. It was always like that. No matter how much time you had to prepare, no one was ever really ready.
On the sofa across from her, Michelle shifted restlessly, mirroring the toddlers at her feet. Jameson recognized the nervous energy instantly. Shell wore her feelings like a poorly tailored suit—trying to keep them tucked away and hidden beneath crisp lines. But the more she tried, the more visible they became. She didn’t like to be seen unraveling.
Jonah had been quiet most of the evening, with Sophie curled against his chest as though she sensed he needed her weight and warmth. He listened more than he spoke, nodding occasionally as the conversation flowed but rarely adding to it.
