Passion and Politics

Although most threats were considered a hoax, security for Senator Bellardi was not taken lightly. He had two full-time bodyguards. Volunteers were solemnly briefed about the possible dangers of being associated with the campaign, and a few of them had decided to leave the office. Others, like Stevie, strengthened their resolve to serve in view of the high stakes of securing North California for decency. She was in this for her kids, and she was not about to bail out now and forfeit their future to invisible troublemakers.

Stevie had learned a lot during her first month in Senator Bellardi's campaign headquarters. The honeymoon was definitely over, and the romance of working for a nationally recognized political leader had long since been replaced by the cold reality of weekly deadlines, tension among coworkers, and budget crunches. But Stevie had not been dissuaded. She felt a large weight of responsibility for heightening public sentiment in support of the traditional values of morality, voluntary prayer in schools, no-parole sentences for convicted drug dealers and sex offenders, and mandatory capital punishment for convicted first-degree murderers.

She also hoped to raise public ire against legalized marijuana, abortion, euthanasia, minority rights for homosexuals, and pornography. Indeed, the Prayer Fax and Fax-O-Gram were allowing her to tackle all of these areas, one article at a time. This had become her passion; and coaching her new apprentice, Wes Bellardi, was an added delight.

More Than One Truth?

“Shawna, your beliefs are too polarized,” said Terilyn. “It's one way or no way. One truth or no truth. You just can't admit that maybe— just maybe—there's more than one truth and that each of us has a right to choose what that is."

Shawna felt trapped and Terilyn smiled. "You're starting to see it, aren't you—the bigger picture? You just keep thinking about what I said, and it'll start making sense to you. And when you're ready, the four of us can talk about it." "The four of us?" Shawna's green eyes were open wide. "You mean ... Alexis and Josie feel the same as you about ...truth?" Terilyn laughed. "Of course they do. In fact, most people do. You've been listening to your mom and that Hitler-Bellardi guy too long. Like that lady candidate, Juanita, says, 'You gotta learn a little tolerance.' It's the only way, trust me."

Shawna wasn't sure she was ready to trust Terilyn—yet. But even as she tried to think of some argument—or even a Bible verse—to counter her friend's words, Terilyn's logic was beginning to make more sense all the time. "I...I gotta go," Shawna said. "Really. I'm going to take a walk and I'll... I'll talk to you later." "No problem," Terilyn said. "Just let me know when you're ready."

Spirituality

"I read your letter," Terilyn said to Shawna. Their deeply bronzed bodies and faded swimsuits were silent testimony to a summer spent in the sun. "I'm glad you're starting to see things more clearly," Terilyn said. "You're starting to realize that what you've been taught all your life isn't necessarily the only truth—and may not even be the truth at all."

"I don't get it," Shawna admitted."I'm trying to follow you, really. But it's just not working." Terilyn's smile returned. "It takes a while," she said. "Alexis and Josie and I are just starting to figure things out ourselves, and we've been experimenting for a year or so now."

"Experimenting? In what?" "Spirituality," Terilyn answered. "The real world. Eternal things. That's where we fulfill our potential because that's where the power is. Now do you follow me?" "Yeah, I guess I do know what you mean ... sort of. But... I didn't think you were into going to church or—"

Terilyn interrupted her with a laugh."No way," she said. "I never set foot in the place, unless my mother drags me to a funeral or a wedding or something. I'm not talking about religion the way your mom thinks of it, or the way she's tried to brainwash you into believing that hers is the only way, and anyone who doesn't believe like her is wrong. I'm talking about real spirituality and power and connecting with a spirit guide—"

"I don't like your saying my mom's trying to brainwash me. Just because she takes me to church doesn't mean she's brainwashing me." Terilyn sat up and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I suppose you go by choice?" Shawna squirmed. "Well, not exactly," she admitted. "But the people there are really nice and—" "And I'm not?" Terilyn asked. "I didn't say that." "I know you didn't," Terilyn said. "But think about it. If you go to a church that says only people who believe a certain way are
right, what does that say about the rest of us?" She stood and looked into Shawna's eyes. "It's not a very tolerant attitude.”

New But Different Friends

Shawna found a blank page in the notebook to enter her most recent thoughts to Terilyn. The week long letter—which she had kept secret from Collin and her father—chronicled not only the events of the vacation but her growing interest in knowing more about her new friends and what it was that made them different. Not really different, she corrected herself. But special and unique. I really like that about them. As her father in the front seat droned on about the finality of divorce, Shawna began her new entry:

Dear Terilyn: What you said last weekend is beginning to make sense. We really can stay connected in our thoughts. I have a feeling you're thinking about me right now, even while I'm writing to you. Is that what you mean sometimes when you talk about spiritual experiences? I'm not sure I understand, but I think I'd like to. Maybe you can be my guide. Let's talk about it when I get home.

Her friends put little effort into selecting their clothes, fixing their hair, and none of them used makeup. These were nice-looking, well-developed girls. But their interest in boys seemed to take a backseat to their interest in being together. To some extent Shawna was glad for that, but she still found it a little hard to understand.

Yet Terilyn, Josie, and Alexis were very bright, very funny, and very friendly—qualities that seemed to be missing from her old friends. True, they were not Christians, which their occasional daring behavior sometimes confirmed. But they obviously had some sort of interest in spiritual things or Terilyn wouldn't use the term so often. Surely that must be a point in their favor.

The Dialog of Divorce

Nine year old Collin asked his father, "When you get married to Mom again, you'll have to move to Redding, won't you, Dad?"

This is why divorce is so traumatic, Jon thought. Kids are incapable of understanding all the ramifications of a relationship gone sour. All they know is that it doesn't feel right when their parents no longer live together. Jon had been through this before with the kids; he knew the dialogue by heart: Mom and I still love each other, but in a different way; divorce means we no longer live together, that we lead separate lives; even though divorce is final, we both still love you and want the best for you.

The discussion was always difficultfor Jon. He struggled to explain himself well, but his attempts never seemed tofully satisfy Shawna and Collin, especially innocent Collin.

That's when Shawna tuned her dad out. Why listen to his attempt at an explanation again? There would be no remarriage, she knew. Her mother had made it clear by moving five hundred miles away, and her father had confirmed it by stating that he was not about to follow her. With the family dissolved for good, why try to make something positive out of it? If Collin needed to hear it again, fine. She did not.

Dad, Please Move Here

Collin pressed on with his questions to his father. "Why don't you move up here, Dad? If South California is so bad, you'd be safer here with us." Jon replied, "I've thought a lot about moving to North California. I love you kids very much, and I hate being so far away." "We miss you too. Dad," Collin said. Shawna was silent. "But I can't move, at least not yet." "Why not? It's
easy. You just put your stuff in a truck and drive it up here like we did." Jon smiled at Collin's childish simplicity. "Mainly, Son, there's my job. I'd probably take a serious cut in pay and lose a hunk of my retirement from the L.A. school district."

Jon continued. "I don't want you kids to think this is only about job security and money. The kids on my campus have a lot of problems, serious problems. I'm trying to make things better for
as many of those kids as I can. I think God put me there to be a positive influence. I can't just walk away from that." So, even though I'd rather be near you kids, I just don't feel it's the right time to move."

My Friend Says

Shawna said, "The new governor is going to make so many laws that nobody will want to live in North California. That's what my friend Terilyn says."

Jon recalled his conversation with Stevie on the topic of legislated morality. He admired Daniel Bellardi's goals for the new state; he wanted Shawna and Collin to grow up secure and happy just
as much as Stevie did. But Jon still wrestled with the candidate's proposed hard-line policies. However, expressing his doubts in front of the kids would likely get him into deep trouble with their mother, and Jon did not want that. "It's impossible to please everyone. He's doing the best he can for the most people," Jon said.

"Terilyn says he's Adolf Hitler reincarnated, trying to get rid of everyone he doesn't like," Shawna said. "What do you think?" Jon asked. Shawna was silent, flipping through her magazine. Finally she said, "I don't think he's Adolf Hitler. He doesn't have a mustache." Jon chuckled at her dry humor.

Why North California?

Dad, why does Mom want us to live in North California anyway? Why don't you move up here too? Then you could marry Mom and we could be a family again. Wouldn't that be great?" The words belonged to 9 year old Collin, sitting in the front passenger's seat of the Grand Cherokee while his father drove. Shawna was in the backseat, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"In answer to why your mom wants to live in North California, I'll tell you why I think she moved to Redding.She loves you two so much that she wants you to grow up in the safest, healthiest possible environment. Big cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco and Seattle are centers for crime and pollution. North California is a much better place to live. "But Redding doesn't have a baseball team like the Dodgers or the Mariners," Collin interjected disappointed. "Or a Nordstrom's," Shawna added from the backseat. "Everything has a downside, kids," Jon said. "Your mom is concerned about protecting you from gang violence, drug pushers, and other criminals."

A Second Chance

It was uncanny to Stevie that Wes Bellardi resembled Dougie in so many ways. The senator's son was twenty; her son would have been nineteen. There was the faint physical resemblance:
blow-away-in-a-stiff-wind physique, faraway eyes. Both young men were quiet, bookworm types, deep thinkers but apparently not deep talkers. Both had a yen for literature and a bent to write. Yet for whatever reason in God's abstruse wisdom, Wes was alive and Dougie was dead. Daniel and Patricia Bellardi had done their work well, and Wes was their reward. Stevie and Jon had done the best they knew how at the time and failed, and Dougie was their albatross.

Stevie was suddenly gripped by a thought that launched her to her feet: Wes Bellardi was her second chance. She had failed with Dougie, but she was clearly doing the right thing for Shawna
and Collin. She had uprooted the family and fled immoral Los Angeles to give them a better life. Wes Bellardi was confirmation from God that she was on the right track. Like Dougie, Wes had writing talent in need of cultivation. She could provide a measure of encouragement and guidance in that area as she would have with Dougie. She relished the possibility of contributing to this young man's life, not only to encourage him but to thank his parents for their contribution to her life and to thank God for the second chance.

Distractions

Stevie knew she should be out making calls for her own business but after three stimulating hours at Senator Bellardi's headquarters, she could not keep her mind on her work. She was
excited at the prospect of working in the Bellardi for Governor communications' group to publish the weekly Prayer Fax for clergy and Fax-O-Gram for the senator's supporters. Stevie
was especially anxious to get into her "homework"-- getting up to speed by reading all kinds of material about the Daniel Bellardi platform.

Chief among Stevie's distractions from work were her thoughts about the unassuming, enigmatic young man, Wes Bellardi. No wonder Wes was closemouthed about his relationship to the senator. Few kids his age welcome the pressures and notoriety of being the son of the
leading candidate in a controversial governor's campaign, especially if those kids—like Wes— are less gregarious.

What an advantage to have been raised in the home of such godly parents. Here was a kid who grew up under the positive moral guidelines Stevie so desperately wanted to instill with her own
two children. Here was a kid who was rescued from Sodom and Gomorrah before it was too late. Indeed, Wes Bellardi was the kind of kid Dougie Van Horne would be today had he not overdosed. Stevie paused a few minutes to think about her son then tried to direct her thoughts back to the campaign.

Meeting the Boss' Son

Eden Hunter-Upshaw, the volunteer coordinator for the Bellardi for Governor of North California campaign, announced with a beaming smile that a weekend background check had cleared Stevie to go to work. She introduced Stevie to the head of the communications department and a few key volunteers. As they were walking, a quick glance inside a cubicle caused Stevie to stop at a doorway. "Hello, Wes," she said. Eden smiled and said, "So, you've already met our celebrity volunteer." "Celebrity?" Stevie said, appraising the young man standing in front of her. "He doesn't like us to make a big deal about it," Eden answered, "but you're talking to Daniel Weston Bellardi, Jr., the senator's son."

Stevie was speechless for several seconds. Wes looked suddenly disconsolate, like a little boy who had just dropped his double-scoop ice-cream cone on the sidewalk. Feeling the young
man's embarrassment at being labeled the boss's son, Stevie ignored her own surprise and said for his benefit, "Well, no matter whose son he is, Eden, Wes impresses me as a fine young man and a dedicated volunteer."

Wes flashed a weak smile. In that instant Stevie sensed that she had made a friend.

Prayers of Protection

This morning, in the first few moments of consciousness from nightmares about her son dying, Stevie dabbed her eyes and nose with a tissue and ruminated on these words: I know the
doctors did everything they could. But did I do everything I could before he reached the hospital? Stevie knew better than to evaluate her parenting at a vulnerable moment like this. Even minor flaws and failures appeared monstrous to her. But she could not completely quell recurrent
yearnings for a second chance with her son. Other parents made much worse
mistakes and their children survived. She knew she could do better if only she
had another opportunity.

A hot shower, a cup of coffee, and several minutes reading her Bible and praying always helped clear Stevie's head after a rough night. At the top of her prayer list this morning were Shawna and Collin, who were in Newport, Oregon, with their father. Stevie welcomed a week to be alone and get some work done, but her maternal concern for Shawna and Collin had risen a notch since Jon's disturbing statement about Juanita Dunsmuir. Stevie prayed that the kids' minds would be protected from any strange ideas their father might try to plant.