The Best-Kept Secret

“Trying to find out what you think of me.”

“I believe I made that clear in your office.”

“I can still wonder why you think I’m a poor choice, can’t I?” Hud shrugged.

Rosie stiffened, then faced forward again and closed her eyes, but her eyelashes fluttered as if she was trying to peek at him.

She’d printed off his voting record. There was a defense bill he’d voted for that she’d written “mistake” next to, but a medical bill he’d helped write had “good piece of work” scribbled next to it. Hud relaxed against the seat, agreeing with her. He’d voted for the defense bill in exchange for a vote on a childcare bill from a Texas senator although the defense bill was loaded with pork.

He flipped to a clipping of his debate team winning the state championship his senior year in high school. There was a small picture of him in action looking as if he could conquer the world. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“I suppose it was hard to face the reality that everything you touch doesn’t turn to gold.” Her finger twitched on the door handle as if she were impatient to get away from him.

She was a piece of work and Hud was going to enjoy making her see things his way. “Everyone goes through a teenage phase of immortality.”

“Yours just lasted longer than others.” She cast a sideways glance in his direction, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I hadn’t realized putting me in my place had become a blood sport. Or that one of the aides to the Democratic chairman would enjoy it so much.”

Without a word, Rosie looked out the window as if he’d struck a nerve. Why was she so determined to point out his flaws? He returned his attention to her file in case it held the answer.

Just behind the article was a picture of that year’s debate team. Hud’s eyes weren’t as good as they used to be and he had to lift the photo closer to look at the once familiar faces, including his own naively confident visage. Standing next to him was Samuel, looking as bored and out of place as he’d ever been at anything that their father cared about. Hud passed his fingers over the photo.

“That’s my brother,” Hudson said when he trusted himself to speak. Thinking of Samuel was sometimes like that. There were days when Hud could talk about him easily and others when his throat trapped all the emotion inside him.

“People loved him,” she pointed out, as if rubbing it in that Hud was the less popular brother.

“He liked making friends, but he had no interest in politics.” Much to the family’s dismay. And Hud’s. It would have been easier on him if he didn’t have to shoulder all the hopes of the family.

“He didn’t have the drive.”

“Like I do.”

“Like you used to have,” Rosie corrected him, giving him a view of the curls on the back of her head.

“I am very driven. And I have lots of friends who find me intriguing.” He hadn’t meant to let Rosie get to him.

“I call them as I see them.” Her voice was flat, as if she thought Hud wasn’t worth arguing over.

“And you know this by reading my file.” She didn’t know Hud at all. “Maybe there are things that aren’t in my file—that might make you feel differently.”

“I’ve been trained to be a judge of what sells and what works in the system. It’s my professional opinion, nothing more.”

He wasn’t going to take this setback lying down. Rosie DeWitt didn’t know it yet, but her professional opinion was about to change.

“MOMMY!” Casey stumbled away from the table where he’d been sitting and watching the clock. He ran to Rosie on coltish legs that seemed to get longer every week. “Did you forget today was an early day?”

The doctor predicted Casey would be at least six foot five, which shocked Rosie, who only stood five foot three on bad hair days when the fog or rain frizzed her hair an additional vertical inch.

Casey loped past the one other boy still waiting to be picked up, leaping over the action figures he’d spread across the carpet and landing in a way that almost sent him crashing to his knees. Instead of falling, her son hurtled into her, hugging Rosie as only a child can hug.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin.”

On the other side of the glassed entryway, Hudson waited in his car, unaware that Rosie planned to walk home in her bare feet if the rain let up at all. Would he see anything of Samuel in Casey? Or was he too self-involved to notice? She was betting on the latter.

Unwilling to release the love of her life, Rosie half carried, half dragged her son toward the door. Casey squealed with joy and clung tighter until she set him down at the wall of cubbies so they could grab his backpack and a stack of notices.

“It’s Friday. Pizza night! Pizza night!” Casey moved in a jolting rendition of a dance he’d seen advertising an amusement park as Rosie retrieved his coat. Casey raised his arms to the ceiling. “Pep-per-oni! Pep-per-on-i!” Then he looked at her expectantly.

The Friday night pizza dance was one of their rituals and considering she was late again, Rosie didn’t dare short her child on anything else. “Ve-ge-tables. Ve-ge-tables.” She pumped her arms and moved her hips. If Hudson was watching from his car, maybe now he’d understand how much he lacked in personality.

Casey’s lip thrust out. “Gross, not mushrooms.”

“Yum, and green peppers.” Not daring to look behind her at the street, she kept dancing. Now would be a good time for it to stop raining so they could ditch Hudson and walk home.

“No, Mommy,” Casey said, putting a hand on her arm, as serious as the uncle he’d never met and Rosie didn’t want to introduce him to. “I’m gonna tell Chin-Chin only pepperoni on mine.”

“Deal.” Rosie stopped dancing and brushed her finger over his nose. “But only if you eat salad first, Case.”

Rosie wished Ms. Phan a good weekend and turned to find Hudson holding the day care door open for them with one hand and an umbrella in the other. With a smile at Casey, Hudson gestured toward his open car door, barely visible through the steady curtain of rain.

Holding her breath, Rosie searched Hudson’s expression for any indication that he saw some resemblance between Samuel and Casey. Not that there were many. Other than his height, Casey took after Rosie’s side of the family.

“I asked Graham to turn on the radio,” Hudson said, obviously trying not to laugh, but the effort only emphasized the cleft in his chin. “In case you wanted to rock out in the car.”

Instead of sinking against the wall in relief because Hudson hadn’t recognized any of the McCloud attributes in Casey’s features, Rosie gave Hudson the look, the one perfected from years of being a mom, the one that said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Who are you?” Casey asked, backing up a step and rolling his head back so he could see Hudson’s face.

“I’m Hudson McCloud. Your mom’s going to get me elected mayor.”

Ms. Phan made an excited noise and came over to shake Hudson’s hand.

Hudson snuck a triumphant glance at Rosie that seemed to say, “See, people like me.”

“I love your mother,” Ms. Phan gushed, causing Hudson’s smile to falter.

“Most people do,” Rosie acknowledged, grateful that it was only two blocks to Chin-Chin’s Pizzeria and Noodle House and their apartment above it. Her toes were cold and—hallelujah—the ride with Hudson would be too short for much conversation.

Once they were belted into the car and Graham had been given instructions, Casey pressed his nose to the glass and asked, “Can we go to the video store?”

Trying to keep her thigh from touching Hudson’s, Rosie inched closer to Casey. “Let me change first.” And get rid of Hudson.

Casey noticed his breath fogged the window and after emitting several gusts of air, he drew circles on the glass. “No, I want to ride in the car.”

“We’ll drive you,” Hudson offered too eagerly.

“Awesome.” Casey wiped his drawings away, then began blowing on the glass again.