It’s only a moment before my gaze is drawn back. Unable to remain impassive, I’m captivated, bewitched by him.
The noise of the crowd has yet to die down; he gives a slight bow of his head, as if embarrassed by the attention. Lifting his hands in the air, he gently gestures for the applause to quiet and a hush falls across the room.
His voice has a low, soothing timbre, “Today I stand before you with our future and the health of our nation lying ahead of us. I have heard the cry for change in Washington, heard the hope that this election will be different than all that came before it. Together, and with my leadership, your desire for a brighter future is within our grasp.”
I find myself waiting, holding my breath as he speaks. Surely this man, albeit a very attractive man, shouldn’t have this effect on me.
Many others attentively watch, some with dumbstruck grins and others simply gaping. Camera flashes spark, creating the appearance of waves moving through the crowd.
In this moment, reality roars back and I realize I’ve forgotten to turn on the recorder. Fumbling, I do so, knowing I must have missed the first few minutes of his speech. Straightening my back, I muster a good amount of poise, lifting my eyes to the Senator just at the moment he confirms everyone’s anticipated suspicions.
“I've made it my life’s mission to care for this country and those that call it their home,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “As I continue on with pursuit of this dream, it's time I seek the most absolute position in which I can lead with integrity, pride and passion. I will not let you down; I will not let this country down. I will bring the United States of America into the next decade stronger than it has ever been.” The crowd erupts and once again I feel as if I’m at a concert, suspecting an overly hormonal teenager will throw her bra on stage.
When the cheering calms he continues, sharing his key initiatives, should he be elected president.
After a few more minutes it’s over. He graciously thanks everyone for coming and opens the conversation up to the members of the media sitting before him. I’m struck again by his stunning good looks and his brilliant smile. Very simply: he is dazzling.
I spend a few more minutes lost in thought, just staring at him. McKenna has begun addressing the small group of reporters; he appears at ease answering questions. He's quizzed about his beliefs, what he would do in the first year of office and so on. I’m once again thankful for the iPad recording all of the events, because I’m having trouble concentrating on the dialogue going back and forth. Questions are thrown out quickly and he responds swiftly. There's no need for him to think; his responses are strong and heartfelt. The passion he has for the betterment of the country is easily apparent. It’s only when I catch the tail end of a question that I sit taller in my seat, my attention piqued.
“. . . What are your beliefs on abortion and women’s rights?”
Unbidden, my cheeks reheat at the topic, but his response comes easily. “There must be a balance between personal rights and the right to live. I'll work diligently to ensure abortion becomes illegal in the United States. Life is precious and we must think in that context when considering ending it. It’s my personal belief there is never a situation in which abortion is the right answer.”
Frustration and indignation pulse like a second heartbeat bubbling to the surface. “You would take a woman’s right to protect herself, to protect her own body, away from her? For reasons you wouldn’t know, couldn’t know. You would take away a woman’s control over her body and possible health?” My voice is terse, hard. It’s as if I were thinking out loud, yet it was stated firmly and with conviction for everyone to hear. All heads swivel toward me, looking for the dumb-ass shouting out in argument with Mr. McPerfect McKenna. My cheeks burn and I know they must be the color of flames, but I don’t back down. I would like to know. I need to know.
It’s his turn to stare at me as he easily finds my eyes. His gaze holds mine for what feels like an eternity before he finally addresses me with consideration. “A child has a right to be born, a right to live. There are some things God must have control over, and those are life and death.
“Man has become too involved in the workings of what He should control. God should play a larger part in people's lives. Abortion is not the answer: life is.” His eyes continue to bore into mine, not letting go of our connection. My heart thrums at the link between us until I garner the resolve to break away, embarrassed by my outburst and my reaction to him.
Others invade the moment, hurling questions. Hesitating, his eyes linger before he shifts his attention away.
Relief floods through me as I sink back into my seat. What did I just do? I berate myself, wishing I could slink out the door.
The questions and answers flow until finally the conference comes to an end. McKenna catches my gaze for only a second, curiosity brightening his eyes, and a small smile lifts the corners of a perfect mouth before he turns to exit the platform. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Standing abruptly to straighten my skirt and pack my iPad, I follow the woman next to me toward the door.
A touch to my elbow halts my progress and my heart stills with it. Reluctantly, I turn at the contact, meeting a pair of lighthearted gray eyes, flashing with a secret air of amusement.
“Ms. Carter?” When I nod, the man smiles and continues, “Evan Daugherty, Colin McKenna’s campaign manager.”
His hand reaches toward mine in greeting. It hovers in the air as I fumble for words, still reeling from my enormously stupid foray into presidential debate. He has a warm, easy grin centered on a handsome face; handsome in a California surfer kind of way. His hair waves from root to end, the shaggy cut perfect in its imperfection. Gray eyes that pierce mine are hauntingly expressive and compliment his bronzed skin.
Again I’m stunned by how young he is considering the position he holds. Taking his hand in mine I find my voice, “Mr. Daugherty . . .”
“I hope your trip was uneventful. Did you have any challenges finding the university?”
“No…”
“Please, come with me. I have a private space set aside for us to talk.” He turns in a hurry and I can do nothing but follow in his wake.
I don’t know if this is a good idea; after the reaction I had toward Senator McKenna, this assignment is looking more and more unfavorable. Nerves are about to get the best of me so I only listen half-heartedly as he leads us to the front of the room and up the four steps of the stage. If this is not a good fit, I’ll walk away. I can always say no; an interview goes both ways.
We end up in a small meeting room with a few people milling about, and others huddling together, exchanging excited conversation at a large table which anchors the room. No doubt they’re a part of the campaign team, planning McKenna’s next steps. A stunning, petite blond woman, smartly dressed in an expensive, curve-hugging suit stands at the front, shifting when she sees me to lift her frame straighter. She does not look pleased. Her eyes narrow as she follows me across the room with a scowl marring her beautiful face. I’m sure she heard my comments from earlier and wonders why I’m here.