Balance of Power

    "They say that about you," Lara snapped. "You need me, Kerry. You need women. You know it yourself—the only way to win this is by making women care even more than the gun fanatics do.

    "I'm not going to tour the country with home movies of my mother, Marie and Joanie. They're dead, dammit—there's nothing I can do for them. But there are thousands of living people out there who've lost someone they love to guns.

    "I know this can't be Lara Costello's traveling memorial service." Her tone was low and determined. "If I go out and do this, it will be with other men and women who are looking for a way to keep some other husband, wife or parent from suffering as they did. I can be that way."

* * *

    At midnight, Kerry and Lara stood together, jeans rolled up, chill water nipping their feet and ankles. "There are risks to what you're proposing," Kerry said.

    "Such as?"

    "Getting shot, for one. We still get letters telling me how much better Jamie looked without the top of his head . . ."

    "I'd have protection . . ."

    "So did he. So did I."

    Lara turned to him. "They killed my family, Kerry. When they killed Jamie, you didn't hide. You ran for Jamie's seat . . ."

    "Dammit, Lara, to the kind of crazies who equate an AK-47 with their penis, you're a minority career woman with a high-toned education and a background in the liberal press, and now you want to take away their guns."

    Lara shook her head, resistant. "I can't help it if people are crazy. Or that some frightened males see any assertive woman as emasculating."

    Kerry watched a clump of seaweed swirl at his feet. "All right," he said wearily. "There's the abortion."

    " 'The abortion,' " Lara repeated in mordant tones. "If that's to stop me, why didn't it stop you from wanting to get married?"

    "Because I love you. I thought you knew that."

    Silent, Lara gazed at him. Clasping her shoulders, Kerry spoke softly. "This is different. Like it or not, you're now a figure of sympathy for millions. It's a power you've never had before. Use that power, and the SSA will search for ways to destroy you.

    "That would be enough for them. But it might not be enough for some fanatic with a gun. Guns and abortion is a combustible mixture— it's gotten too many people killed already. I don't want the next one to be you."

    Lara studied him. "Is that all you're afraid of?" she demanded.

    "What else do you think it's about?" he answered with real heat. "My visceral distaste for feminism? Or just politics?"

    Lara's mouth formed a stubborn line. "If it isn't politics, don't try to intimidate me. My life, my choice." Her voice became more level. "You nearly died, then got out of bed and kept on running for President. All I could do was pray. Don't ask me to turn my back on this so you don't have to worry."

* * *

    Later, Kerry held her. But that was all. They had not made love since the murders. To Kerry, Lara's grief had left her hollow.

    "I don't want a child," she murmured. "At least not now."

    "Why?"

    "What's the usual line—'I can't bring a life into a world as cruel as this'?"

    Kerry stifled his dismay. "Is that really how you feel?"

    Lara exhaled. "I don't know. In the last day or so, I've wondered if a child would help heal us—a new life, a new person to love after so much death . . ."

    "I've thought that, too . . ."

    "But it's not a reason. People should have children more for the

child's sake than their own. Things are so unsettled now, even with us." Pausing, Lara spoke more quietly. "We need time to heal, Kerry. And I have something else to do."

    Kerry fell silent.

    "I worry about safety, too," Lara confessed. "All the people who'll hate me, and what could happen." In the darkness, she rested the crown of her head against his face. "I know what you want. But it's not the time to have a child."

* * *

After this Kerry could not sleep.

    He lay thinking for what seemed like hours, waiting until Lara's stirring told him that she, too, was awake.

    "If you do this," he told her, "use domestic violence as a wedge. Not even the SSA can advocate shooting women and children. If you keep the focus on the victims, instead of the gun lobby, there's less the SSA can say."

* * *

The next morning she asked to walk alone.

    Kerry watched her become a small figure in an oversized sweater, perhaps a mile distant, gazing out to sea. It was an hour before she returned.

    When she did, she took his hand. "At least you're here," she said. "If anything happened to you, I don't think I could bear it."

* * *

    In candlelight Lara still looked wan. But at least, Kerry thought, she had begun to eat again.

    "It's not just my family," she told him. "This is a once-in-ageneration chance to save thousands of innocent lives. What choice do I have?"

    He could not quarrel with this. In his silence, Lara said quietly, "We've talked about everything but you."

    "What has there been to say?"

    "Quite a bit. We're caught in this cycle of guilt, me blaming myself, then blaming you. You've had nowhere to go."

    Kerry could not speak. For the first time he fought back tears.