“Thanks. It was nice collaborating on something.” Sid raises his wine glass towards Amy and she mirrors him, big smile lighting up her face. “That’s kind of the dream, isn’t it? That we’re all going to get into government and be able to work together?”
“To be sure,” says Bradley, raising his glass too.
My heart sinks as I realize what Sid is doing. In light of our recent disasters, he’s weighed his options and decided he needs to offer Bradley what he wants. What did Amy call it before? A coalition.
“Don’t you wish the vote would just happen tomorrow? We could all get it over with and—” Amy starts, but Bradley cuts in.
“That’s becauseyou’rea shoe-in. I don’t mind a few more months to bolster my numbers.” He leans out of the way as the caterers place the next course, a salad of kale and hazelnuts, on the table. “What about you, Sid?”
“What about me?” He’s barely touched his food.
“What would you do if the vote happened tomorrow? Assuming you got in. Anything you two would do to… celebrate?” His eyebrow cocks.
Here we go.
I drape an arm across Sid’s shoulders, fishing out one of the stories we brainstormed. “We’ve been talking about going on a trip. I want to see America. Sid told me there are places in the San Juans where you can see all the way to Mount Rainer.”
“Things will be busy after the election. America might have to wait,” Sid says.
“Oh, comeon. If we’re imagining the perfect scenario, then I want to go somewhere with you. It would be romantic.” My hand slides up to his neck to play with his fine hair. He tenses under my fingers, but I don’t relent.
A second later, his hand falls on my shoulder, the nextstep in our choreography. “Well. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
It’s as good an excuse as any, so I lean in for a peck. Maybe it’s the hint of danger lacing the air tonight, but my heart skitters at the warmth of his mouth against mine.
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” says Amy, eager for everyone to get along. “I wish I had someone to celebrate with.”
“Aw, Ames. I didn’t know you were looking for company.” Bradley nudges her playfully and she erupts into giggles.
“Oh, stop!” she squeals. I sincerely hope she means those words literally. Maybe I’ve been giving her too much credit. Maybe this woman isn’t as brilliant as everyone claims she is.
But her attention—or maybe the wine—has put Bradley in a good mood. “Well, I think it’s wonderful you two found happiness so quickly. See, Maria?” He turns to his younger sister. “I told you. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear at school.”
The girl’s cheeks flush, and she stares deliberately down at her meal. If Bradley is making a show of chastising his sister in front of us, I probably need to do something similar. I laugh and say, “Oh, I’m sure whatever happened was a misunderstanding. If April had remembered to use her words, Maria would have known what was going on.”
Bradley gives an appreciative chuckle. April stares daggers at me. But when dinner ends and we break off into smaller groups, I think we might have struck the right balance. The girls wander off together, whispering furiously. I catch Maria saying something that sounds like “they’re all full of bullshit.” I have to supress a smile.
Nothing bonds people together quite like ragging on the same enemy.
AFTER DINNER, BRADLEYtakes us out to the veranda, where a few visitors from his mother’s party have spilled over. Sid and I wander the crowd, making introductions and small talk. The whole evening is exhausting, but even if he complains about Bradley Patterson, coming was the right choice for Sid’s campaign. He secures an invitation to a future town hall meeting and has a long conversation with the Mayor of Galiano about the lumber trade. All the while, I smile and clutch his arm, ever the adoring wife.
Best of all, whatever threat Bradley posed seems to have been neutralized. The more he drinks, the more freely he talks, but at least he’s a cheerful drunk. Better yet, he’s one who is on our side.
“The more I think about it,” he says loudly, forcing all the guests to be his personal audience, “the more I think, I sayyes! Wedoneed immigrants. We’re building a new nation, here! It’s like when they built the railway. You needpeopleto build a railway.”
My grasp of Canadian history isn’t the most thorough, but even I know the labour practices that built thetranscontinental rail aren’t what anyone wants to be replicating in the modern age. But at least he’s seeing some value in Sid’s own positions.
“You ever seen the railway, Sid? Is it still there?”
“You mean the CPR? Yeah. It’s still there. We…” Sid looks awkwardly around at the others, who have leaned in. It’s not like they don’t know who he is or where he came from. He’s public about it in his campaign. But it’s hard to guess how stories about TNS will be received. Still, Bradley is asking directly, and this is his party. “We used to run marching drills on it.”
Bradley lights up and soon has dozens more questions about Sid’s life. Not so much the sordid details of being a child soldier, but where he went. Bradley has vacationed on the San Juans, but the one thing money can’t buy in today’s world is the safety to leave these islands. He’s rapt as Sid describes places as far away as the Okanagan. I could participate if I wanted, since I’ve been across the entirety of Vancouver Island, but the thought makes me sad in a way I can’t afford to unpack right now. Bradley Patterson’s world might be filled with sights and tastes I’ve never experienced, but this place is undeniably smaller than what I used to have.
Sid seems to have the conversation well in-hand, so I wander away once I’ve finished my drink. The veranda wraps all the way around the house, until it opens over a sheer cliff. It’s a steep drop to the ocean below, water dark as the night and sighing like a sleeping giant. I’ve only been alone a few minutes when soft footsteps approach. I turn, expecting April, but Amy Sullivan draws up to my side.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Oh…” I don’t know if I should be wary or not, but it would be rude to refuse. “Sure.”
