Elements of Chemistry (Part 2) HEAT (2015)

Chapter 12. Factors Affecting Solubility

THE PLANE LANDED and I was in a mood. An introspective, anxious, overthinking-the-situation mood.

Whereas Martin’s mood had lightened considerably.

When we stepped off the plane and piled into the limo, my mood did not improve. Eric and Martin discussed what to do about Ben’s abdication from the team. Sam tossed me searching looks. I stared out the window.

When we arrived at the dorm and the boys carried our luggage into the building, my mood did not improve, not even when Martin pulled me into an abandoned study room on the first floor and motioned for Sam and Eric to go on ahead. Not even when he backed me up against the door, crowded my space, his eyes dark and hot with intent.

Not until he said, “I told you because I trust you, Kaitlyn. I don’t want anything—least of all my fucked-up past—coming between us.”

I held his gaze and felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders, leaving me feeling merely melancholy. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m just…I’m just so sorry you had to go through that. I know trusting can’t be easy for you.”

“You make it easy.” His eyes lit as he caught my wrists, and used his body to press me against the door. Martin’s voice dropped an octave as he added, “Being with you, listening to you play music, calling you on your bullshit…”

I lifted an eyebrow at this, feeling acutely peeved and opening my mouth to protest. He grinned and spoke faster to keep me from interrupting. “…touching you, kissing you, watching you come, making love to you…you make everything right.”

I felt my cheeks warm as he held my gaze and his lips slowly descended to mine. I lifted my chin to meet his mouth, anticipating his kiss, hungry for it.

Martin released my wrists as his mouth slid over mine, his greedy hands moving under my shirt to the bare skin of my torso. When we parted, my fingers were twisted in his hair and I was breathless; as well, he’d built a fire in the vicinity of my pants.

He was basically an Eagle Scout of pants fires.

So I groaned and pleaded, sounding silly and pathetic to my own ears, “I miss you already. Will you stay? I could spend some time calling you on your bullshit, or we could study chemistry.”

“Or make out.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

He laughed, stole a fast kiss, and then hugged me to him. I returned his embrace and felt him speak against my hair. “I have to go back to the house, make a few calls, take care of some business. But then I’ll come back and stay as long as you want me to stay.”

I nodded, nuzzling his chest, and smiled, thinking how intoxicatingly wonderful it was to have the promise of an evening with Martin in my immediate future.

***

I WAS IN a much better mood when we walked into the suite area of my dorm room, and right into the tall, straight, hard chest of a secret service agent.

No one ever expects the secret service.

I backed up, excusing myself, and stepped on Martin’s foot as he was following close behind me. He held my shoulder with one hand, and shifted us both away from the agent. My mind went around the Ferris wheel of confusion only twice before I realized that the presence of the secret service could only mean that my mother was someplace nearby.

I was expecting her for brunch on Sunday, as per our earlier discussion.

Her plans must’ve changed.

“Oh, hello,” I said automatically, reaching out my hand to the man, “I’m Kaitlyn Parker.”

The man was dressed in a black suit, black tie, and white shirt; his sunglasses were tucked in his coat pocket and I caught my reflection in half of the lens peeking out of its home.

“I’m Stevens.” Stevens accepted my hand for an efficient shake, his dark brown eyes skating over Martin then back to me. His tone was equally efficient. “Ms. Parker, the senator is waiting for you in your room.”

“Okay.” I nodded and glanced at Martin over my shoulder as I searched for the handle of my suitcase behind me. “Hey, you want to meet my mom?”

His eyebrows jumped and he shifted on his feet, relinquishing the luggage to my care. “Uh…sssssure.”

It was easy to see he was caught by surprise, so I waited for a beat, turned, and studied his face. “You don’t have to. You can go make your calls and come back later. There is no pressure here. She can be kind of intimidating.”

He gave me a bantam smile, really just a hint of one whispering over his lips, and his tone turned teasing. “Really? Intimidating? I hadn’t heard that about your mother…who is a US senator.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and pressed my mouth into a flat line to keep from laughing; I turned back to the agent and asked, “Do you need to frisk him? I can do it for you if you want.”

Martin made a choking sound behind me.

The agent did not smile. “Yes, ma’am. I will need to search him before he approaches the senator.”

I nodded and walked around the secret service agent, then turned and walked backward toward my dorm room door.

“See you inside,” I said cheerfully. I also winked at him.

He scowled at me, but then had to move his attention to the agent who was instructing him to put his hands out, palms up.

I snickered and walked into my room. I found my mom sitting in the chair next to my microwave talking on her cell phone. She was dressed in her typical outfit: an expensive, nicely tailored pantsuit accessorized simply with an American flag lapel pin. The cut and style remained constant, but the color varied between blues, black, and greys. Today she was in black.

Her eyes lifted to mine as I entered and she smiled warmly, pointing to her phone then lifting her index finger in the universal sign for, give me one minute.

I nodded and placed my suitcase on my bed, returning her smile. I unzipped the bag and began emptying its contents to keep myself busy…because I found I was equal parts nervous and excited. I really, really wanted her to like Martin—so, nervous. And I was certain she would like him—so, excited.

Everything with Martin had happened so fast; in some ways I was still on that speeding train, because it didn’t occur to me that my mother meeting Martin would yield anything but stellar results.

Turns out, she really did only need a minute to end her call. In fact, I think she clicked off without saying goodbye.

As she stood and pulled me into a quick hug, she said, “I hope you don’t mind, I asked Sam and her friend if we could have the room for a few minutes. She dropped her things off just a moment ago.”

I shrugged and returned her fast embrace. “No, no. That’s fine. I think she has to go check in with her tennis coach anyway.”

She released me and folded her hands in front of her. She never crossed her arms. When she stood still she always folded her hands. She told me once that early in her career folding her hands kept her from fidgeting. Now she did it out of habit.

“Good. You must be wondering why I’m here a day early and without your father.” Her gray gaze moved over me searchingly, like she was cataloguing changes in my appearance.

“I told George I wouldn’t be back until today when I called him last week. I hope you got the message.”

“Yes. Your unexpected trip. That’s partially why I’m here.” My mother’s eyes finally settled on mine and I detected a slight hesitation in her usually confident voice.

I frowned, casting her a sideways glance. “Is everything all right?”

Her eyes softened in an alarming way, and she opened her mouth to respond. But then she quickly snapped it shut and glanced at the door over my shoulder. I followed her gaze and found Martin hovering at the entrance to my room. I couldn’t help my giant smile.

“Oh!” I reached for his hand, not really registering the stoic mask that had slipped over his features as I tugged him into the room and turned back to my mother. “Mom, this is Martin Sandeke. Martin, this is my mom, Joss Parker.”

I knew I sounded positively giddy as I made the introductions, but I couldn’t help it. I was so excited. I loved my mother, and was so proud of her. She was my superhero. I was her biggest fan.

And now I was introducing my Martin to her, this boy I loved so much.

I figured that since they were both amazing and brilliant, and had wonderful thoughts about the future of Big Telecom and technology, the two of them would immediately fall into a stimulating conversation on the subject. I ignored the fact that Martin’s intentions weren’t entirely altruistic because the outcome of his plans would benefit society just the same.

I glanced between them as they shook hands, grinning, waiting for the stimulating conversation to begin.

It didn’t begin.

Instead I watched as my mother became Senator Parker, her gray eyes adopting their steely and coldly assessing glint as she looked Martin up and down.

“Senator Parker,” he said.

“Mr. Sandeke,” she said.

My stomach sank at their mirrored frowns and frosty posturing. I winced and tried to swallow, a thick, foggy numbness unfurling in my stomach as comprehension struggled to dawn and silence stretched.

No one said anything for a full minute. Actually, no one said anything verbally for a full minute. Instead they stared at each other and a form of silent communication passed between them. My heart thumped uncomfortably as I struggled to find words to make everything better, explain that Martin was a good guy, that he wasn’t his father.

But just as I opened my mouth to voice this as fact, Martin bent, gave me a soft kiss on my cheek, and whispered in my ear, “I’ll see you tonight.”

He gave me a tight, apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned away. He left.

I stared after him, blinking at the door, wondering how everything could have gone horribly wrong in one and a half minutes when absolutely nothing had been said.

My mother’s soft sigh pulled my attention back to her and I struggled to speak. Finally I blurted, “He’s wonderful. He’s really wonderful. He hates his father, and you’re going to love him. He has ideas about satellites and he invented lazy fishing poles…and I don’t understand what just happened.”

She gave me a sad smile—hers didn’t reach her eyes either—as she crossed the three steps to the door and shut it; she turned back to me and folded her hands.

“Kaitlyn, Martin Sandeke is why I am here, one day early, and without your father.”

I frowned at her, searching her face for a clue but found only patient concern; at a loss, I vocalized my confusion. “I don’t understand.”

She sighed again. She hardly ever sighed. I felt a nagging sense of disquiet.

My mom placed a hand on my shoulder and guided us both to the bed until we were sitting, facing each other; then she said in her normal, businesslike tone, “My office received a call from a reporter at the Washington Post yesterday asking me to comment on my conflict of interest regarding the affordable telecom bill. He questioned my ethics if I remained in the chair position on the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee because my daughter is in a serious relationship with the son of this country’s largest telecom provider’s CEO.”

“Wait…what?”

“It seems he has pictures of you and Martin during your vacation and sound bites from one of your fellow students, a Mr. Benjamin Salsmar, who was with you this last week, indicating that the two of you are very serious, and that our families are quite close.”

Benjamin Salsmar. Benjamin. Ben. Ben the bottom-feeding rapist, cuss monster!

UGH!

“Ugh.” I shook my head as my face fell into my hands. “That’s why Ben was still there this morning…what an asshole.”

I heard my mother clear her throat. I hadn’t thought before I spoke; I was pretty sure this was the first time she’d ever heard me cuss. To her credit, she made no comment about it, even though she’d told me when I was younger that curse words weren’t adult language and had been mischaracterized as such.

She’d once explained that curse words were used by the idiots, and unimaginative members of our society, individuals who never learned actual adult language—i.e. multisyllabic descriptive words—and flung curses around during childish temper tantrums.

Nevertheless, Ben was an asshole.

But aside from Ben’s assholery, what he’d said—what he’d told the Washington Post—was fifty-one percent true. Martin and I were in a relationship. I was not ashamed of it or of him, but I was now beginning to see that our relationship might cause some professional problems for my mother.

After several seconds she asked softly, “What is going on with you and Martin Sandeke?”

I gathered a calming breath and straightened, letting my hands drop from my face. I met her eyes and told her the truth. “Martin and I are dating.”

“I see…” Her thoughtful expression didn’t change except that her eyes narrowed just slightly. After a short pause she asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“About a week.”

“Oh. Then it’s not serious.”

“No. It is serious.”

“After a week?”

“Yes,” I responded firmly.

She inspected me for a long moment, her gaze searching and tinged with slight confusion, but then she conceded with a nod. “Okay. If you say it’s serious, then it’s serious.”

I stared at her. She stared at me. I waited for her to say something, to give me the right answer.

When she didn’t, I blurted, “Mom, I can’t just walk away from Martin. I think I’m…I mean, I’ve fallen in love with him. We’re in love with each other. I love him.”

My mother’s face softened at this news, but her eyes held pity and worry. “Oh, Kaitlyn.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, her gaze moving over my face. “Honey, from what I know about Martin Sandeke, he’s not the kind of boy who is going to be gentle with your heart or appears to do anything without an ulterior motive. As such, I find this news worrisome.”

I tried to give her my best responsible young adult face. “Yes. I can guess what you’ve discovered about him. But I’ve spent a week with him—with just him for the most part—and he is not who he appears to be. He is…he is amazing and so kind.”

“He’s kind?” Her tone held a note of disbelief.

“He’s kind with me.”

“But not with everyone.” This wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

“No, not with everyone. But if you knew—”

“And you’ve fallen in love with a person who doesn’t feel it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but you?”

I pressed my lips together and swallowed. She didn’t sound judgmental or even upset. She sounded curious. It was always this way with my mother. Her curiosity was why she won every argument, and why people always listened to her and took her advice.

She was exceedingly reasonable. She was never malicious or pushy, never condescending or irritated. She was only curious. She’d poke holes in terrible proposals and theories with her curious questions until it was clear to everyone that the proposal or theory was garbage. But she’d never, ever come out and say it.

I’d learned that the best defense against curiosity is honesty.

“Yes. I’m in love with a person who doesn’t feel like it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but me.”

“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she examined me. I could see her brain working, considering all the data, working through the scenarios.

I prepared myself for a detailed curious onslaught. Instead, she surprised me.

“Kaitlyn, I trust you. You know what’s at stake.” Her tone was firm, almost hard. “I’ve explained the situation and you are exceedingly bright. You understand the ramifications of staying in a relationship with Martin—and not only to my career and me, which is really the secondary issue here. The primary issue is what this does to the American public. You understand that Martin’s father is using this relationship to expel me from the chair position of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee. He will succeed because he is right.”

“But…but how is he right? How can he do that?”

“He is right because I will have an intrinsic bias if my daughter is in a serious relationship with this country’s largest telecom provider’s Chairman of the Board and CEO’s son. That is a fact. I will resign before I am forced out, because perception of bias is just as damaging as actual bias. Mr. Sandeke has been positioning Senator Neimann to take my position for the last two years, both with the Vice President and the President pro tempore of the senate. He is the handpicked replacement and he will kill or bury the affordable telecom act—you know this is how Washington works—and those Americans in rural areas will continue to be unable to access affordable high speed services, thereby placing them at a prolonged disadvantage over those living in urban city centers.”

I blinked at her, at all her facts, and ground my teeth. “So I can break up with Martin until the bill passes or stay with him and ruin the lives of millions of people?”

Her expression turned sad. She took a deep breath like she wanted to say something but hesitated, thought better of it.

“What? What do you want to say? Just say it.”

She sighed. Again! And her next words surprised me because they sounded shockingly maternal. “You know I trust your judgment, Kaitlyn. But…I’m worried about you. I wonder, have you considered the possibility that perhaps Martin’s feelings for you are not what they seem?”

I stiffened, leaned slightly away from her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She pursed her lips, and her eyes darted to the door then back to mine. “Martin’s father is a very intelligent man, and he’s equally calculating. He has acuity for industrial strategy like I’ve never seen. As well, he’s known to use those closest to him as part of his strategy. Seven years ago his wife—yes, his current wife—was at the center of a sex tape scandal with Senator Peterson from Wisconsin. You likely don’t remember because you were only twelve or thirteen.”

She paused and I noted she looked extremely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, and her eyes searched mine. “Senator Peterson was the chair of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee at the time, the position I hold now. This bill that Martin’s father has been fighting so hard to bury is a reimagining of Senator Peterson’s bill from seven years ago, before an ethics panel removed Peterson from the position during the investigation.”

I frowned at this news and the obvious conclusion I was supposed to make. “That’s not what’s going on here. Martin isn’t dating me because his father told him to.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because I’ve been under constant scrutiny from the ethics board since I took this chair position. Your father and I have been audited three times by the IRS. Denver Sandeke and his lobbyists have been relentless. The last time I saw him he actually suggested we open negotiations for affordable service. I was stunned and I took that as a victory—because he’s never given an inch before last month. I assumed it was because he’s been unable to discredit me…but now I’m wondering if this trip you’ve just taken with Martin was part of his plan.”

I stared at my mother, my stomach made queasy and sick by her suggestion. “You think it’s so impossible Martin would just be interested in me for me?”

Her eyes widened, then her entire stance changed. She looked horrified. My mother grabbed my shoulders and turned me so we were facing each other directly. “God, Kaitlyn…no. No. Absolutely not. You are a treasure, and I’m not saying this just because I’m your mother and I’m proud of you. I’m saying this because it is the truth. It is very likely that these two issues—Martin’s feelings for you and his father’s manipulations—have nothing to do with each other. But I needed to ask the question. Based on historical data, how Mr. Sandeke has conducted himself in the past, the question had to be asked. You understand that, right?”

I nodded, believing her, but saying nothing.

She sighed again and I could feel her frustration with the situation. Actually, she looked frazzled. I’d never seen her so discomposed and my stomach soured further because I was the cause of her worry. I felt like a disappointment.

“Kaitlyn, we can only try to do our best. I am trying to do my best here. The situation is impossible for me to solve, and that’s why I’m leaving it in your hands. You have all the facts. There will be hundreds of bills, and there is always good work that needs to be done. If I resign from the committee and this bill fails, then I will refocus my energy on something else. But,” she paused to make sure I was looking at her as she finished, “I have only one daughter.”

I pressed my lips together, feeling miserable and conflicted.

My mother must’ve seen my struggle because she lifted her hand and cupped my cheek in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Her eyes were reassuring, yet resigned. “I’m not going to insist on making this decision for you. You have to decide what’s wrong and what’s right for yourself.”