She ran over to him, and he picked her up, kissing her.
“I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said.
“I’m so glad.”
“This has been a long seven days.”
“Tell me about it,” Dot said. “I’ve been torn in two wanting this to be over but mostly just thinking of you.”
He pulled her into his chest, and she smelled his familiar scent of soap and shaving cream.
“When do you think it’ll be over?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s very close. Could be a while yet. This could end up with an automatic recount,” she said, wishing she had a better answer.
“I’ll wait,” Danny said.
“Here? It could be hours.”
“That’s fine. I’m not leaving without you.”
Dot thought it over. And then she felt an impulse that fully clarified her mind.
“No. Don’t wait. I mean. Wait. Wait right here for just a moment,” Dot said. She took a step back and then dashed back across the street, snowflakes starting to melt in her hair.
Inside, she went to her desk and wrote Rose and Fletcher notes.
“I had to go. Please understand. I love you!” She signed with just a dot. They’d know who it was from. She placed the notes on their keyboards.
There was just one thing left for her to do.
Then she returned to her desk and picked up her red Sharpie.
Taking off the cap, she leaned over her desk and put a red line through Election Day. For her, the campaign was over.
DANNY PULLED INTOhis drive, and he and Dot scrambled out of the car. The snow was falling more heavily by then and had already fully blanketed the ground.
They practically flew up his steps, hearts pounding. As soon as Danny got his key in the lock, he swung the door open and Dot’s lips were on his, insistent and charged. His hands pressed firmly against her back, pulling her impossibly close. They barely paused to shed their coats, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, lips retracing the well-worn paths they’d missed. Every brush of skin, every sigh, stretched the moment with powerful tension, the outside world fading away.
Yet, remembering what was happening across America that night and how important it was to Dot, Danny used one hand to search around for his television remote.
Opening one eye, but keeping up with her kiss, he aimed it at the TV and hit the power button.
Dot grabbed it and said, “No.”
“Don’t you want to see if they made any more race calls?” Danny asked.
“No.” At this point, she didn’t want another moment of politics. She wanted Danny.
“But you worked so hard...” he said, but was interrupted by Dot, who leaned forward and pressed her lips to his again. This time, she let her hands trace up his chest, tugging him closer. Her kiss was insistent but playful, a little challenge. He responded in kind, hands tightening around her waist.
“We’ll know when we know.”
Danny closed his eyes. “So, if I have this right,” he said, running feathery kisses down her neck, “I have you here and the politics is out there. This is like all my dreams coming true in one night.”
“I accept the challenge,” she said, laughing, then took his hand and started toward the staircase that led to his bedroom.
On the second step, Dot noticed that he glanced at the mantel and at the framed photograph of Sadie.