Legacy

A Naptown Tales Sequel by Altimexis

Chapter 3 — Brotherly Love — Brad Reynolds

My day began just like any other. I ate breakfast in the Governor’s mansion with my wife and Chris, the youngest of our three children and a freshman at Broad Ripple High School. Breakfast was one of the rare times of the day I could be assured of quality time with my family. Kayla, the love of my life, had been my girlfriend all through high school and even before. We’d gravitated to each other the summer between seventh and eighth grade, when I took on the cause of starting gay-straight alliances in our district’s three middle schools. Kayla’s brother Gill, now my brother-in-law, was gay and Kayla was one of my first recruits to the cause. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love and we became intimate just over a year later.

That intimacy was what led to the conception of our first child, Stacey. Although Kayla and I always adhered to safer sex practices, condoms are not quite 100% effective and, naïve as we were, we didn’t even know about using them with a spermicide. As sexually active as we were, it was probably only a matter of time until Kayla became pregnant. In retrospect we should have recognized the need to do more than relying on condoms alone, but we were so in love with each other and the thought of having a child while we were still in our teens didn’t frighten us nearly as much as it should have.

When Kayla became pregnant partway through our junior year in high school, we did what nearly any teenagers would do — we panicked. Although the subject of abortion came up, both Kayla and I agreed that as inopportune a time in our lives as it was to raise an infant, we would regret it the rest of our lives if we took the easy way out. We’d always known there were risks but, like most teens, we ignored them. Thanks to our naïveté, we were faced with the consequences.

I’d already submitted my resignation as class president when Scott and Simon, my two best friends, cornered me at lunch.

Of course Scott and Simon were absolutely right. Sure our parents were shocked, and maybe a bit disappointed in us, but they quickly got into the spirit of becoming grandparents. It didn’t hurt that Kayla and I had been together for 3½ years already by then, so there never was any question about our getting married in the long run. Faced with a child on the way, we decided to follow in David and Jeremy’s footsteps and get married that summer, at the age of seventeen.

We were married on Friday, July 5 in a lavish ceremony held at my brother-in-law’s mansion in Lake Shores. The Kimballs went all out for Kayla and me, setting up a tent in the back yard, just in case of rain, and even arranging for fireworks to be shot off from a barge in the middle of the lake. Our friends Zach and Kevin, who’d just graduated from Carmel High, played some nice music for piano and cello before and during the ceremony. For the reception our parents hired a band called Benny’s Benders — they’d played my brother’s wedding and at some of his and Jeremy’s parties when they were in high school and even though the members were now in different colleges, they still got together to play gigs during the summer months. We both had a lot of friends and so half our guests were teenagers. Sure it was a bit over the top, but we all had a blast.

After getting married, we moved into an apartment the Kimballs had over their humongous garage. It had been their housekeeper, Carlotta’s, apartment until then but she graciously moved to one of the guest rooms in the main part of the house so that Kayla and I could have our privacy. Once our daughter was born, Carlotta stayed with little Stacey during the day while we attended school. We tried to pay the Kimballs rent and to pay Carlotta for her time but they wouldn’t hear of it. I think they had all been lonely since Cliff passed away and Jeremy and David went away to school.

We did end up staying in town for our senior year of high school, taking advance placement courses as well as some college classes for dual credit. I played football in the fall and, although we didn’t win the state championship like we did when Billy Mathews was quarterback, we still made it to the finals — a rarity for our school. Unfortunately, Kayla decided to go into labor right in the middle of one of our final games. I kinda felt like I let the team down but, man, nothing was gonna keep me from being there when our daughter was born.

“What’s on your mind, Dad?” Chris asked, bringing me out of my reverie.

“Oh nothing, really,” I answered. How could I tell him I was thinking back to thirty years ago, back when Kayla and I were just about his age? Those early years were difficult to be sure, but we raised our daughter with love, even as Kayla and I attended college at Butler and then law school at the University of Chicago. We chose Chicago because it was relatively close to home but still in the top ten of American universities. We both graduated at the top of our class too, but as the valedictorian of a prestigious law school, it was Kayla — not me — who got the offer to clerk for the Supreme Court. I had political aspirations to match those of my brother but I had a family, not just a spouse. Kayla was a professional in her own right with dreams and aspirations of her own. I therefore accepted a position as a staffer for one of our senators while Kayla did her clerkship.

Kayla received many job offers at the end of the year but decided to take a position in her father’s law firm back home. I decided to devote my full attention to running for the state general assembly — and lost. I was running against an entrenched incumbent; I was young, naïve and far too liberal for the district in which I ran.

Retrenching, I went to work as an associate in Kayla’s father’s law firm, working side-by-side with my wife. We moved into a district that offered a better shot at an assembly seat in the next election and began raising a war chest to fund a real campaign the next time around. We also decided it was a good time to have another child and a year later our first son, Brian, was born. The following year I won my assembly seat and my political career began in earnest.

In the coming years, as my brother went from being governor to congressman, senator and then president, I worked my way up the ladder in the state assembly — first in the House and then in the Senate. I became one of the more important political leaders in the state in spite of my young age and, along the way, we had our third child, Chris. Like Stacey, he wasn’t planned and we loved him no less. In the meantime, Kayla became a full partner in her father’s law firm and was one of the most sought-after litigators in the state.

In 2036 I was forty years old and the State House was occupied by a very popular, first-term Republican governor. I had recently landed in the State Senate and was considered a strong future contender for minority whip. I had absolutely no reason to upset the status quo, but decided to do so anyway. I ran for governor with the theme, ‘a seasoned leader’, and we aired clips of my testimony before Congress at the age of thirteen. What clinched it, however, was the way I creamed the incumbent in the debates. Four years later, I was elected to my second term.

“Bye Mom and Dad — gotta go to school!” Chris said as he stood up from the table, again bringing me out of my reverie. “Could Greg come over after school?” he added as he grabbed his book bag. Greg was Chris’ boyfriend. If there’s such a thing as a ‘gay gene’, with two gay uncles it was not all that surprising that one of our children was gay.

“As long as it’s OK with Greg’s mom,” Kayla replied and with that, Chris disappeared out the door. Although Broad Ripple High was a magnet school for the arts and humanities, the governor’s mansion happened to be within its catchment area anyway. Not only did it look good for the governor’s son to be riding the school bus along with everyone else and attending a city school, but Chris was getting a top-rate education as well.

“I’m due in court at nine and I need to review today’s cases,” Kayla said as she herself stood and then gave me a peck on the lips.

“Have at ’em, your honor,” I said as I looked at my watch and realized I too was running late. My chief of staff, Simon, would have my ass if I didn’t make tracks. I asked my driver to prepare the limo while I finished getting ready. Fifteen minutes later, I was at the State House going over the day’s agenda with Simon.

“Mr. Governor,” my secretary interrupted us, “your brother’s on the line.”

“Thanks Phil,” I replied and then picked up the phone and said, “This is Brad Reynolds.” I knew the drill and that David would never be waiting on the line — people had to wait for him.

“One moment for the President,” a woman’s voice answered me, and then I heard my brother’s voice.

“Hey Brad, how’s it going?”

“Goin’ fine, Dave,” I replied. “It’s just another typical day in the life of the Governor. How’s St. Louis?” I then asked.

Sighing, he answered, “The city’s problems are only getting worse, which is why my visit’s so important. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is that I thought maybe we could get together while I’m in the ‘neighborhood’, so to speak. That is if you wouldn’t mind Air Force One dropping in on the way back to Washington.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” I answered, “but maybe I could do you one better. It’s been a while since we’ve been to St. Louis — Chris hasn’t been there since he was a young boy — so why don’t we join you there over the weekend?”

“I was planning to leave tomorrow morning,” he answered, “but if you’re going to join me here, I could certainly stay until the early evening.”

“That would be great,” I agreed. “Maybe we can both get some photo-ops at the Arch, the zoo and Missouri Gardens.”

“I’ll get my people working on the arrangements,” David replied. “It’s always great to spend time with my brother and his family. Maybe you can see if Brian and Stacey could join us?”

Sighing, I said, “Stacey has her own family and her career, and she’s in California, but I’ll ask her…”

“I almost forgot that my little brother’s a grandpa,” David chided me.

“Asshole,” I said quietly into the phone, and then continued, “With Brian, it all depends on whether he has a project due or a test to study for. At least he’s right in Bloomington. I’ll ask him, too.”

“It’d be great if he can come,” David agreed. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Please call if Brian can make it, and I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Love you.”

“I love you too, Dave,” I replied before the line went dead. I couldn’t imagine the life of being president but hoped that one day I’d find out firsthand.

My day got off to its usual busy start. It was all pretty routine until early that afternoon, when Simon broke into a meeting and said, “I’m sorry, Governor, but there’s an emergency.”

I apologized profusely to everyone for ducking out on them and then waited for Simon to return after he escorted our guests out of my office. “What’s this all about?” I asked when he did.

Rather than answer me, Simon grabbed a remote and then my world came crashing down for the second time in my life. The first time had been when my best friend, Cliff, had a seizure in class and died the next day. This time it was David. I stared at the holographic projection in disbelief, my mind not even comprehending what it was seeing. At first I thought it might be a movie but I knew it was not. The St. Louis Arch was clearly visible in the background. In the foreground, the presidential limo was on fire with thick black smoke billowing out the windows.

I couldn’t help but remember the day, 34 years ago, when we were visiting Arlington Cemetery and Paul, Sam’s best friend, told everyone that David would be buried there. He’d foreseen David’s assassination and now it had come true.

“I just spoke to him a few hours ago,” I said in disbelief. “I just spoke to him!” I practically shouted.

Pulling me into a hug, Simon replied, “I know, Brad, I was there.”

Opening my eyes wide and recalling that the Vice-President was supposed to be with David, I asked, “The Vice-President?”

“Was killed in the explosion, too,” Simon answered.

“My God, that means that Schroeder will be president. Can it get any worse?”

“You need to stop being a politician for a moment and think about yourself, Brad,” Simon admonished me. “I know you all too well and how you shut your emotions down in times of crisis. Your brother was just killed — you need to grieve. It’s OK to cry.”

Pulling back and looking into his eyes, I said, “I can’t, Simon. Not yet, anyway. I know I should, but I just can’t.”

Changing his demeanor, Simon began, “We’ve already been contacted by the Secret Service. This has all the makings of a terrorist incident. David’s motorcade was ambushed and the attack was with an RPG. They’re assuming there could be other targets and, as the President’s brother, you’re considered a potential target as well. You and your family are going to be secured at a safe house outside of town. Kayla and Chris are being brought here, as are your parents and David’s in-laws. Once everyone’s here, you’ll all be taken to the safe house. Brian’s being picked up in Bloomington and he’ll be taken directly there.”

“What about Stacey?” I asked.

Laughing, he replied, “I don’t need to tell you what Stacey’s like. Of course it’s still a bit early in California, which probably didn’t help the situation any, but she told the Secret Service what they could do with their offer of protection.”

“With a laugh of my own, I said, “That’s Stacey all right. She always had an independent spirit.”

“From the day she was born,” Simon agreed. “I’ll never forget that day. I was with Scott, watching you play when you were called off the field. It wasn’t for another 36 hours that she came into the world. She sure took her time!”

“We go way back, Simon,” I reminisced. “You and Scott were there when Cliff passed away, too. No-one could replace Cliff, but you two have been my best friends ever since.”

“Which is why I know you so well,” Simon agreed. “You’ve gotta let it out, Brad.”

“In time, Simon,” I replied. “I won’t hold it in forever, but I’m just not ready to let him go yet.”

“None of us are,” Simon added.

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I groaned as I landed on Park Place. Brian owned it as well as Boardwalk, and both properties had hotels on them. The rent was $1500 and I just didn’t have it. Brian was almost salivating as he looked over what was left of my properties.

“All right,” Brian began, “I’ll let you keep your pathetic cash if you give me Marvin Gardens, Ventnor and Atlantic Avenue.”

“But it’s my only remaining monopoly,” I complained, “and I have hotels on all three! I might as well declare bankruptcy if I give you that.”

“You’ll still have three railroads and Waterworks,” Brian pointed out.

“Gee, that’s some consolation,” I replied. Looking at the property cards, I said, “Let’s see what I could get from the bank.” Adding up the figures, I related, “Each house and hotel was $150, so that’s $750 I paid for them on each property. I can sell them back to the bank for half that, so by selling my hotels and two houses on all three, I can get $675 and still charge rent for two houses if you land on me.” Adding up my cash, I sighed and added, “Trouble is, that’s still not enough.”

“OK, maybe I’m asking too much, Dad,” Brian countered, “but I’m still willing to make a deal. How about I give you the Electric Company and B & O Railroad in return for your monopoly.  That’ll give you monopolies on both utilities and all four railroads. It’ll double the rent you can charge for landing on a railroad, and you’ll get >ten times the amount shown on the dice if someone lands on a utility.

“That’s nothing compared to what I can get if someone lands on one of my hotels,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but keeping that monopoly is not a choice you have, Dad,” Brian countered.

“Don’t do it, Dad,” Chris chimed in. “If you give him your monopoly, he’ll have three monopolies. It’ll be almost impossible to go around the board without landing on one of his hotels. You give him that and you might as well declare him the winner.”

“And what about your three monopolies?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, like Baltic and Mediterranean even count,” Chris countered.

“They count enough if I land on ’em,” Brian challenged.

“I’ll tell you what, Brian,” I interrupted. “I’ll keep my monopoly and hotels, thank you, and I’ll give you my three railroads and Waterworks, and we’ll call it even.”

“But that’s hardly fair,” Brain replied. “You only paid $750 for those four properties — that’s half what you owe me!”

“But you’ll be getting two new monopolies in the deal,” I pointed out. “That’s hardly something you can walk away from.”

Seeming to ponder my offer, a broad grin broke across Brian’s youthful face. Finally he said, “You drive a tough bargain, Dad, but you got yourself a deal.”

In the end, my deal with Brian didn’t stave off my inevitable bankruptcy by all that much, but the surprise was that Kayla won the game.

Playing Monopoly right after David’s assassination might have seemed strange to some but, after being glued to watching the holovision for several hours, we just couldn’t take it anymore. For us it was personal and being isolated in a safe house under the watchful eye of the Secret Service was driving all of us crazy. At least I did manage to convince them of the need to reassure the state before we went into hiding and so I gave a brief televised address before leaving the State House.

We were staying in the small town of Nashville, located in scenic Brown County and a short distance from the Bloomington campus where Brian was attending school. Jeremy’s older brother and sister and their spouses were also on their way here and would arrive by morning. Even Jeremy’s nieces and nephews and their children would be under Secret Service protection, albeit more loosely. We were all considered potential terrorist targets.

My parents were as youthful as ever in spite of their age. Both in their mid-seventies, they enjoyed doting on their five grandchildren and great granddaughter. Hell, they probably saw little Katy more than Kayla and I did but, then, they could afford to spend months in California, particularly during our cold and snowy winters. Kayla and I didn’t exactly have that kind of luxury but we weren’t complaining. I enjoyed being governor and Kayla enjoyed being a judge and, as young as I still was, I looked forward to a life in national politics — perhaps even the White House itself.

Jeremy’s parents were surprisingly spry for a couple in their late eighties. Dr. Cynthia Roth still attended medical conferences and her textbook of Oncology was considered the definitive reference in the field. Tom Kimball still remained active in his business, although the day-to-day operations had been turned over to his granddaughter, Jeremy’s niece, Becky Weinstein, quite some time ago. Becky herself was a grandparent, making the Kimball-Roths great-great grandparents.

Nashville’s nothing more than a tourist town really, but the Nashville House restaurant makes the best fried chicken I’ve ever tasted. That, along with their fried biscuits and coleslaw, made for some of the best southern-style cooking in our Midwestern state. Thanks to my brother’s influence, I almost never ate fried foods of any kind, nor did I eat any red meat, but I couldn’t resist the Nashville House’s incredible food. The Secret Service ended up making multiple food runs on our behalf.

It was as we were finishing dinner that the call came in. “Sorry to interrupt,” one of the agents began, “but the First Gentleman’s on the line.” Since Schroeder had already been sworn in, Jeremy was technically no longer the ‘First Gentleman’, but we all knew whom the agent meant.

“Could we put it on speakerphone?” I asked.

“If you want, we could set up a holo-conference,” the agent answered.

Looking around the table and seeing broad agreement with a nodding of heads, I replied, “OK, let’s set it up.”

Just a few minutes later, we were all sitting in the great room when a teary-eyed Jeremy appeared before us. Seeing Jeremy like that was all it took for the dam to burst. The last thing I wanted to do was to cry in front of my kids or particularly in front of Jeremy but I couldn’t help myself. All of the pent-up emotions I’d been hiding inside of me since I learned of my brother’s assassination came to the surface like a tsunami. Kayla pulled me to her and I cried on her shoulder as my mom stood up and sat on the other side of me, consoling me in my grief in spite of her own.

Finally, I managed to pull myself together and when I turned back to the holo-projection of Jeremy, I noticed that he’d been crying, too.

“I’m sorry, Jer — so, so sorry,” I said through my tears.

“David was my life,” Jeremy replied. “I thought it was hell losing Cliff but that was nothing compared to this. We were a couple for thirty-six adventurous, wonderful years. It was an amazing journey and even though we all knew it eventually would come to an end, I still can’t believe he’s gone.

“But Brad, you were David’s best friend. Yes, Trevor and Kurt were our best friends as a couple, but no one was closer to my husband than you were. In some ways, not even I was. He looked up to you more than anyone else.”

“He was my hero, Jer,” I answered. “His was a shining inspiration. Everything I am today, I owe to my brother. How will I ever find my way in the world without him?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Brad,” Jeremy answered. “Yes, David was an inspiration to us all but, everything you are today, you earned on your own. You may have been following in David’s footsteps but, unlike me, you’ve never been in David’s shadow…”

“You’re not in David’s shadow,” I countered. “You’re in your fifth term as a U.S. Congressman, for cripes sake!”

“It took me a long time to find my own way, Brad,” Jeremy disagreed. “Even this congressional seat was David’s before it was mine. You, on the other hand, have done your own thing since you were thirteen.”

“And you were David’s inspiration,” I pointed out. “Everything he became, he became because of you. Now it’s up to us to carry on his legacy — both of us,” I added.

“I’ll agree with you there,” Jeremy replied. “I’m not sure how I’ll make my contribution, but I won’t let David’s vision die.”

“Neither of us will,” I agreed.

“Mom, Dad,” Jeremy said as he turned to my parents — he’d always referred to them as if they were his own parents, “I can’t fathom what it’s like to lose a child. As much as Sandy and Josh mean to me, I don’t even want to think about losing either of them.”

“Let us pray you’ll never know,” Dad answered.

“And Mom and Dad,” Jeremy said as he turned to his own parents, “I know you always treated David as if he were one of your own…”

“He was one of our own,” Cynthia Roth interjected. “Ever since the day you brought him home to meet us, we knew he was someone special — as are you! We’ve loved David as long as you have.”

“As old as we are, son,” Tom Kimball added, “we always expected you’d bury both of us long before you buried your husband. Losing Cliff was horrible — I never expected to have to bury another child of ours.”

There were a lot more tears shed before Jeremy continued speaking to us. “Guys,” he began, “I have a lot to ask of you in the coming days. You’ve probably already heard that I plan to have David buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

“Brad,” he said turning to me, “I’m going to be giving the eulogy at David’s graveside, but I’d like you to give a eulogy too. Yours would be given at the funeral itself, in the National Cathedral.”

I was stunned. Never did I expect to be given such an honor. I was terrified, but this was something I needed to do.

“You gave such an outstanding eulogy at Cliff’s funeral,” Jeremy reminded me, “and no one knows more about David’s early life than you do. As his brother and the governor of his home state, I think it would be outstanding if you would do it. I’m counting on you, bud.”

“Of course I’ll do it, Jer,” I responded. “I can’t believe you asked me, but it would be an incredible honor and, Jer, it will be an act of love.”

“I know it will,” Jeremy responded. “I also have something to ask of all of you — something a bit more difficult.

“The nation is in need of healing but the possibility of the terrorist threat still looms large. We need to reassure the American people even as we protect those in power. There are going to be tradeoffs involved, but nothing would be more reassuring than seeing David’s family continue with their lives.

“In a couple of days, once the preliminary scene investigation and autopsies, such as they are, are completed, David’s body will make its way by train to Washington, where his remains will lie in state in the Capitol Rotunda. The train will be passing right through on its way east. I’d like you to board the train when it does so and to ride with the train the rest of the way to David’s final resting place.

“Of course there are risks involved. Another RPG attack on the train could be a disaster, which is why there will be sharp shooters along the entire route and the latest anti-rocket technology will be with you. You’ll literally be safer on the train than just about anyplace else, but nothing is 100%. Your being there would make all the difference to the public psyche, however.”

“Jer,” I responded, “I think I speak for all of us in saying that it would be an honor to travel with David to Washington.  I would die, however, if anything were to happen to Brian or Chris,” I added, as I looked at my two sons. “I’m not willing to risk their lives in the name of maintaining a public image of normalcy, when David’s assassination is anything but normal.

“But Dad,” Brian interrupted, “I want to go with you on that train. Kids need reassuring, too, and my being there can help to do that.”

“The same goes for me,” Chris chimed in, “and as a teenager, my being there would send an even stronger message to the public than would Brian’s being there.”

“I’m still a teenager, too,” Brian countered.

“Yeah, but only for another three months,” Chris pointed out. “Seriously, I think both Brian and I should be on the train. The youth of America needs to see that the entire family is on-board and not afraid. This may be the most important thing I ever do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I replied, “but I’ll leave it up to the two of you whether or not you travel along. I’m tempted to refuse to allow you to go but, Brian, you’re an adult — and Chris, my political career began when I was even younger than you are…”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris snickered.

“I know you do,” I continued, “but what I’m saying is that I can’t expect you to become a mature adult unless I let you make your own decisions.”

“Can Greg come?” Chris asked, and then he became red as a beet and said, “Oops, I didn’t mean to phrase it that way.”

It only took me a few seconds to pick up on the unintentional and embarrassing double entendre, and then I replied, “I’m not even going to dignify that one, but I’m going to have to draw the line at anyone outside the family. No boyfriends or girlfriends on this trip.”

“I’d have to second that,” Jeremy chimed in.

We all spoke for another hour before Jeremy ended the call. It was an emotionally draining experience.

Now I had a eulogy to write.