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Epilogue
Almost nine years later
On an unusually frigid January day on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC, Carly Edwards Jones held the Bible for her husband to rest his left hand on as he raised his right one in the air. Then, in firm, ringing tones, he repeated the words recited by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. “I do solemnly swear...” You should be focusing on the meaning of the oath Shane is taking, Carly told herself sternly, but all she could think of in this moment was that she was witnessing history in the making. Never before in the modern era had the US—or any country in the world for that matter—voted to have a man take the helm when he was publicly known to have epilepsy. Epilepsy completely controlled by medication, but the stigma still resided in the minds of many.
Shane’s election had been a minor miracle because he’d run as the independent he was. Two things had contributed mightily to this unexpected achievement: the country was sick to death of partisan politics and had turned to Shane’s candidacy with a sense of relief; and the mainstream media had trumpeted Shane’s qualifications for the job—including his stellar career in the Marine Corps, his reputation as an incorruptible senator as well as his acts of personal bravery—rather than focus on the illness caused by one of those acts.
Carly knew her reputation as a highly regarded reporter was partially responsible for the mainstream media’s favorable treatment of Shane—and was fiercely glad. The country needed a man like him, and whatever worked, worked.
She’d been forced to take a leave of absence from her job—something she and Shane had discussed at length before he threw his hat in the ring for the US presidency two years ago. But she didn’t regret her decision. Just as she would never regret her decision to marry Shane.
“...So help me God.” The immense roar from the crowd that followed the final words of Shane’s oath snapped Carly back to the here and now. Her eyes met her husband’s, and she knew from the intensity in his expression he was caught up in the solemnity of the moment. But she also knew—because she knew him—that he was thinking of her, as well. That in his supreme moment he was thanking God for her love and support over the years. That he acknowledged he couldn’t have accomplished this without her.
* * *
Despite the hundreds of cameras aimed at Shane, he smiled at Carly. The private smile that started in his eyes and eventually spread over his entire face. And she smiled back. “Oorah, Marine,” she mouthed at him, and Shane’s smile deepened, knowing that television networks everywhere would scramble to find lip readers who could tell the world what she’d said. He didn’t care. Because even if they knew what she’d said, they wouldn’t know why. And they wouldn’t know what it really meant.
You can do this.
How many times over the past not-quite nine years had Carly said that to him? How many times had despair tugged him one way, while her belief in him had tugged him the other? Then there were the other occasions, too, happier ones. He’d been petrified with Carly in the delivery room because he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. He’d also been worried because she was in her late thirties when they had their first child.
But she’d gasped those same words at him, and somehow he’d found the courage to participate in the miracle of birth. To receive their babies into his hands. First their son, Shane, Jr. Then, two years later, their daughter, Charis, named after Carly’s mother. Both children were in attendance here today, even though they were still too young to understand why.
Shane wanted to mouth back, “I love you,” for everything he owed Carly. For everything she’d given him, especially her steadfast belief in him. For understanding the man he was...and the man he could be. But he knew that would never do. Not in this arena. Instead, he nodded slightly to acknowledge the message she’d sent, and mouthed one word back to her. “Oorah.”
Which, in their private parlance, meant I can do this...so long as I have you.
Then he clasped Carly’s hand in his, and they turned to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. Together.
* * * * *
