Page 19

We enter the building and she looks around curiously, grabbing a pamphlet from the front counter as we stride by. “I can’t believe I lived in Wichita for eighteen years but have never been here before!”

Chuckling, I put my hand on her shoulder, but when I feel her tense up nervously, I quickly bring my hand back to my side. I love how shy she is, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. When we walk to the first exhibit, she stops and reads the plaque, which explains how the Keeper of the Plains ended up in Wichita.

“As much as I love reading about Wichita’s history, I’m terribly curious why you wanted to meet here today. Is this where you usually bring your dates?” She raises her eyebrows.

I chuckle nervously. “No. I’ve never brought a date here before. Actually, I wanted to show you a piece of my family history. My great, great grandparents are one of my inspirations to run for Congress.”

She looks up from the exhibit and gives me an endearing look. “That’s very sweet. I’m sure your devotion to family is just one more thing that will make you stand out when you run for Congress.”

I cringe at her choice of words. If only she knew how important devotion to family really is to voters.

We continue making our way through the museum. I can’t help but notice with a grin that Odette stops to read the plaques at each exhibit. There are two types of people who go to museums: those who read every word and those who fly through the entire building so they can leave sooner. Odette is clearly a reader. I appreciate that; I’m the same way.

Finally, after almost an hour of touring the little museum, we arrive at the exhibit I wanted to show her. On the wall, there’s an enlarged black-and-white photograph of my great-great-grandparents standing in front of a classic Victorian-craftsman home. I study Odette’s face and wait to see if she notices.

“Wait. Is that your parents’ house?” She looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

I can’t help but smile at her surprised expression. “Yes, it is. Well, technically it was my great-great-grandparents’ house first. They’re the ones who originally built it.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Adalbert and Clara were immigrants from Sweden. They met on the train from New York to Wichita. Adalbert was able to finish his education and then got a job at a bank, and Clara found work as a maid. Once they were married, they saved up so they could build the house. Their home is part of our family’s heritage, and growing up hearing stories about them is a big part of my desire to be a Congressman.”

Odette studies the photograph in amazement. “That’s really incredible. What a wonderful family legacy.”

I nod toward the display case below the photograph. “And that leather book is one of the many journals Grandpa Adalbert kept. He had them all published a few years before he died.”

She looks at the old, decrepit journal and furrows her brow. “Have you read them all?”

I look away for a second, trying to hide my emotion, but my voice comes out thicker than I want it to. “I have. They were sometimes… devastating to read. My great-great-grandparents struggled to adjust when they first arrived in the U.S. There were so many immigrants arriving from Sweden daily, which didn’t endear locals to them. They were often treated poorly, mocked for their accents and their different customs.” I swallow my emotion and try to lighten my tone. “The last twenty years of their lives were happy, though. He wrote a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I can see why you are so passionate about helping immigrants.” She gently puts her hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. Clearly startled by her own boldness, though, she removes her hand quickly and twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. She twirled her hair the other night at her house, too. I wonder if she does that when she’s nervous.

I turn back to the display “The U.S. actually made it pretty simple back then to become a citizen, even if the public didn’t. We scaled back on approving citizenship after World War I, though. Immigration nowadays has become a grueling process. One of my primary goals in Congress will be to work towards getting the United States to grant citizenship to more people. I want to introduce a bill that will help streamline the process.” I’m really hoping that telling Odette why I want to become a Congressman–why it’s so important to me–will make her empathetic to my cause.

“You’re a good man, Madden,” Odette whispers, her eyes meeting mine.

Time stops. I could look into this woman’s green eyes all day. But I have to ruin the moment. I have to announce my campaign next month, and I still need a wife to help my chances of winning this election. It’s now or never.

I rub my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. “So… there’s actually something I need to talk to you about. It’s going to sound completely insane, so I don’t want you to answer right away. Take some time to think about it first. But not too much time because, well, I need to announce my campaign next month…” I trail off, feeling hopelessly stupid.

She takes a step back and I watch her defenses go up. She twirls her hair again. “Okay. What is it?”

I swallow nervously. “You said you wanted to help my campaign–and I do need your help–but I can’t continue without… This is going to sound insane, I know, but I have no chance of success if I’m not...well, if I’m not married.”

A bead of sweat drips down my brow as I watch her eyes almost bug out of her head. I wipe the sweat with the back of my hand and continue. “My campaign manager has studied exit polls and the statistics of past candidates. According to his research, I need to be a committed family man for voters to take me seriously.”

She blinks a few times and then her cheeks flame with color. “You’re not about to ask what I think you are, right?”

“I think we’d make a great team, Odette. If you’d marry me–specifically, within the next week or two–I believe we could both benefit from it. I can take care of you and your parents. My family has the means to set up the best care for your father, or anything else you need. Our political goals coincide. We could make a united front and change this country for the better, together,” I say, my eyes pleading with her to agree.

She guffaws and looks around the room dramatically. “I’m sorry, is this museum actually a time machine? Have I somehow been transported back to the Dark Ages?” She grinds her jaw, her laughter turning to outrage.

I reach toward her, but she steps back and clenches her fists at her sides. I hold my hands up in front of me. “Listen, I was shocked at first, too. But we would be allies, working to make this country better. And it wouldn’t have to be forever. Maybe just a year or two, depending on how the election goes.”

Her jaw drops. “Do you honestly think I’m desperate enough to accept a temporary, loveless marriage just so you can add Congressman to your resume?”

“I’m not saying that–”

“And what makes you think we want your financial assistance, anyway? Do you have a problem with the way I’m caring for my father?”

I flinch. I hadn’t considered how that part might sound to her. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean–”