A/N: I don't own Persuasion or the Tennyson poem quoted at the beginning of the chapter.

Chapter Three

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

-Ulysses (lines 66-70) Alfred, Lord Tennyson


And then Meghan sighed as she looked at me. "It's just not reasonable or rational," she told me severely. "We're too different people living different lives. Just forget it; we could never make it work."

Her dark eyes grew darker as tears brimmed to the surface and she turned her head away. My gaze remained fixed, steady, and emotionless. But before I could say anything, Meghan had walked away from me. My deepest fears had come true. Meghan had left me because of her family's pressure. I loved her and I knew that she loved me. But the pressure had just gotten to be too much.

It was hard not to be angry with Meghan. I loved her and I wanted to marry her. But I knew what her dad was like. He hated the fact that his oldest son, Connor, was a registered member of the Republican Party. Connor was forever banished to the back of family portraits for that rebellion. But if his oldest daughter defected by not only joining the Republican Party but then married me-conservative logger, columnist, commentator, and overall watchdog extraordinaire-he would flip out. In his mind, that would destroy his dreams of becoming president. If I knew Senator Walsh, he had probably threatened his daughter with physical harm. I knew his wife had played on her stepdaughter's insecurities. Meghan didn't know that I knew how violent her father could be when he wanted. But I had seen the bruises she tried to hide. They weren't always physical, although they were at times, but I saw the wounds, the scars on Meghan's heart.


If life really was like the movies, things would have been much simpler for us. In romantic comedies, things always work out for the gorgeous girl and her slightly dorky but still wonderfully amazing boyfriend. At the end of the movie, her family and friends who were opposed to their relationship would suffer humiliations galore. In our case, that would just mean people would finally see Senator Walsh as a corrupt hypocritical asshole. And then Meg and I could get married and settle down and raise a family together in peace. I would keep writing my column, she could teach as long as she wanted to, and we would have a peaceful life without any unnecessary interference from her dad or the rest of her family. Okay, Connor and Jessica could stick around; they were on our side. But they'd been where we were before. Connor was the black sheep of the family and rarely allowed around. But whenever the cameras were near them, James Walsh tried to act as buddy-buddy as possible with his oldest son. But backstage, in private life, he was as insulting as humanly possible.

It would be the same way for Meghan if she married me. Most of the year, James would treat her like dirt, pond scum. But then when he needed his kids for his campaigns he would try to buy their love, or at least their time. I'm not sure James knew what love actually was. Oh sure he'd been married twice and produced four children. But with enough money and persuasion, you can get a lot of things these days. The Senator is a prime example of that. He makes me so angry and I've never even met him.

I love Meghan but I can't stand her dad, politically or personally. But she loves him for being her father. And that's why things won't work out for us, can't work out for us. He's a skunk; she deserves better but will never let herself get it. She struggles with her self-esteem and self-image. The only reason her family managed to get through to her was because they told her that I didn't love her and I was just using her. I could see why she would believe that. I had asked her so many personal questions about her father. I had asked about his policies and his family life. All of my questions had to seem suspicious in light of what her stepmother had said. I could only imagine what I would think if someone kept asking me in depth personal questions about my family. I would probably assume that they were trying to gather information to use against me.


Life in Chicago, life without Gregory was painful and miserable. It was like living under a permanent thundercloud that never unleashed its fury. I was welcome back into my father's good graces and was suddenly welcome at their house whenever they wanted. I had regular coffee dates with my stepsisters. Jill and Tasha are great girls; they're a little snobby and not always understanding. But you can watch chick flicks with them and eat chocolate and talk about boys. They like hearing cute stories about the little kids with whom I worked. "I don't understand how little kids can say so many silly, ridiculous things without even realizing it," Jill remarked one day when we were talking.

I shrugged. I had just finished telling her a story about a student who had asked me to marry him that morning. "It makes sense in their minds."

"But telling you that he plans on being a rich doctor and you'll never have to worry about where you're going to buy your gold stars again," she said.

"Little kids tend to think that gold stars are really expensive and I have to spend a lot of money on them. They don't realize that I get them for only a dollar or two."

My stepsister smiled. "Sometimes listening to you makes me want to be a teacher."

Jillian was eighteen and a freshman at the University of Chicago. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do with her life. "I've heard too much of politics from living with James, your dad. I could never do anything that has to do with constituency or policies or committee meetings. I'm sick of listening to discussions of whether or not your dad should try to work with various moderate Republicans to achieve their mutual goals because no one in politics ever does anything just to do it. Everyone has motives and things they want in return for services rendered. I can't live a life like that. If I'm going to help people, I'd rather just do it for the sake of helping them."

"You could go into nursing or teaching," I suggested. "Those are service fields."

"I think I'd like to do something like the Peace Corps or something. I think I might want to do nursing or major in a foreign language like Spanish or French or something. And then I want to go someplace like Africa or South America and do something that will actually help people. I want to affect the world. I want to do something that matters. You found that in teaching. Connor gets that from being a lawyer. I think my mom gets that from writing but I'm not sure. You have to remember I was raised by proper British nannies; I don't really know my mom."

I smiled. "She's a good person. She has some interesting and slightly unusual ideas. But she's a good person and she carries about you and Natasha."

"That's what Tasha always says."

"Maybe she's right," I suggested. "She is older than you. She remembers things from before the divorce."

"I remember things from before the divorce!" Jillian protested. "I was seven when they separated. I remember things from before then."

I smiled. "I'm sure you do. I just think that Tasha probably remembers more than you do."

"Two years more," she said bitterly. "But I just don't understand why they got divorced."

"Maybe they had personality differences that they felt they couldn't resolve. Or maybe things between them had changed over the years."

"But that's what marriage counseling is for!"

I sighed. "Jill, sometimes people make dumb decisions when they're young and when they get older they regret those decisions."

My stepsister looked at me. "I thought you were supposed to be this strong, ardent conservative who promoted the family. I never thought you would ever say that divorce was an appropriate course of action. You're supposed to be the good Catholic of the family."

"No, that's Connor. I'm not perfect. I try to promote family values and all that. But I'm not completely convinced that marriage is for everyone or even for me. And some people make mistakes and marry the wrong person."

"Is that what was happening with you and Gregory? Was he the wrong person for you?"

I shrugged. "I liked him. But I don't think he was in it for the right reasons. Your mom seemed to think that he was just in it to get at Dad. And that's not right. Dad is my dad, no matter how screwed up my relationship with him is."

Jillian tossed her blonde hair. "I always thought you were the really conservative type who would only marry once. I always thought you were only a Democrat to make your dad happy."

"What does divorce have to do with being a Republican or a Democrat? John McCain has been divorced but so has John Kerry. Prince Charles has been divorced. The Crown Prince of Spain is married to a woman who has been divorced before. Divorce happens all over the place. It's not just limited to Democrats or Republicans."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," came as my stepsister's reply. She was curled up on a couch in my apartment, drinking a cup of coffee she'd picked up at Starbucks on her way over to my place. "I hate partisan politics."

"Then stop using it to classify people or my life or my beliefs," I replied. "My dad is a Democrat. Greg is a Republican. I don't know which one I am. I don't think I can morally be a Democrat but I'm not sure I understand the Republican Party well enough to join it. I'm not even sure that is really where I fit. I agree with their policies about abortion and stuff like that. But I'm not sure I agree with them socially or about things like war. I don't like the idea of war in general; I think it's stupid. But I'm not sure that I'm a pacifist."

"Oh, I know I'm always opposed to war," the eighteen-year-old replied. "But you have to admit that soldiers are hot, especially Marines in their uniforms."

I sighed. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't think that war is the answer. Violence doesn't solve problems. And I don't like the idea of the United States as this empire or a global policeman. I don't like the idea that we go into countries and overthrow their governments. But at the same time, as human beings we do have a moral responsibility to help our brothers and sisters in need. It's like the situation in Darfur or any other genocide-type situation. What do we do? What is the role of a nation like the U.S. or England in a situation like that?"

"I miss being a little kid. I hate the feeling that we have to make decisions and they help change the world."

"I thought you wanted to change the world," I challenged her.

"But I don't want to be responsible for a war or the death of innocent people. I want to change things for the better."

"So finish college and join the Peace Corps or something like that. Go to Africa and give kids clean drinking water. Give some kid in South America a pair of glasses and a chance to see the world."

"You think I should become a nurse?"

I nodded. "I'm not telling you what to do. I'm the worst person ever for things like that. But I think you'd be a great nurse. You're compassionate. You're caring. You're not afraid of blood. And you could change the world. I think you really could do something amazing."

"I want to be like you," Jill told me. Statements like that scared me. I didn't think I was doing anything earth-shattering. I was a teacher. I was just a pathetic first grade teacher trying to make the world a better place. And most days I wasn't sure that I was succeeding.


Days passed. Weeks passed. I grew a beard but that was mostly because I knew that Meghan hated the idea of beards on men, especially me. I still missed Meghan. I missed her voice and her sense of humor. I missed her emails and her stories about her students' antics. And it hurt when I talked to Audrey and she told me that she occasionally saw Miss Walsh at school. "She looks so sad, Uncle Greg. She looks like her world has been torn to pieces. I bet she feels the way I did the day I found out that there was no Santa Claus."

But I wasn't using her to create some kind of exposé about her dad. I wasn't using her for anything at all. I loved her. I wanted to scream that from the rooftops. I didn't want her to think that I was trying to use her. I wanted her to know the truth. And there was only one way I could get through to my girl. I was going to write a column about honesty and integrity. I didn't know if she would understand or appreciate what I had to say, but it was worth a shot.

Writing as Ulysses of Homer's famed epic, Tennyson said that "we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are." Calling things the way they are is vital. No relationship can survive without honesty. If you want someone to listen to you, you have to tell them the truth. Oh sure relationships can work if you simply tell people what they want to hear. But if you are discovered as a liar, the relationship will have been irrevocably damaged. When you change, you must let the other party know that you are changing.

Part of honesty is always keeping the other party apprised of where you stand. You should also be willing to listen to the other party and hear what they have to say. If they are accused of something, you must give them a chance to defend themselves. This is true in all areas of life. But I find it to be particularly important in politics and romantic relationships. These are two difficult areas of life and they become even more complex when they are mixed. I recently realized this when a long-term relationship in which I had been involved and invested ended suddenly. The lady, who was the soul of honor, was the daughter of an important elected official who happens to hold political beliefs very different from my own. His daughter and I were closer on certain political issues than on others. But we were close on many issues and we found ourselves growing very close. And then, at some point in our relationship, I found my hopes and expectations being challenged for political reasons. Outside forces were working against us and things rapidly tumbled down. These people told this young lady that I was not what I claimed to be. I was accused of using her to get to her father, a man who had time and again refused to meet me simply because of this blog and my political views and affiliations.

I have been called names time and again over the course of my career. I have been referred to as "a major contributor to the fervor of the right wing" and "one of the biggest reasons that damn vast right wing conspiracy is still active." But I have never been accused of lying or manipulating a woman before. Being accused of using a woman to get at someone whose politics I dislike stung. And when I realized that my actions were in line with these accusations, I felt like hell. I felt like an asshole. And I realized that I hadn't been completely honest with this young woman. I should have been honest with her about myself from the beginning. I should have made it clearer that she could trust me to always do the honorable thing.

The people of the United States of America need to know that they can trust their leaders. Relationships between politicians and their constituencies are similar to marriages. Trust is crucial to any relationship. If anything is going to work, the trust has to be there. You have to give people enough reason to trust you. No matter how long the relationship lasts if the trust isn't there, things will eventually fall apart. If two partners can't trust each other, then what is their relationship worth? If a child cannot trust their parent, they cannot have a true, strong relationship. If a nation cannot trust the leaders it elects, it cannot function as it should. I have realized this now more than ever. I failed this young woman. I have always tried to be strong and honorable. I am a firm believer in chivalric ideals and I feel that these are essential in all of my relationships. I would like to get more into the political arena someday and I don't think I can do this at this point in my life. I cannot trust myself with that kind of power when I fail at relationships. I wasn't the man I'd believed myself to be. I hadn't shown myself to be honorable. If a woman could find it believable that I was using her and manipulating her, then I wasn't being the man she needed me to be. I wasn't being the strong, chivalrous gentleman I wanted to be. I was being some who wasn't trustworthy. And I never want to be that person for anyone-my family, my friends, my girlfriend, or the people for whom I am responsible.

At the end of his poem, Tennyson has Ulysses say that he and his men are "one equal temper of heroic hearts;/ Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will/ to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." This is what I need to be. I need to be a friend, brother, son, uncle, writer, lawyer, and whatever else I may be who is strong in will. I need to refuse to strive, seek, find, and refuse to yield.


I saw Greg's column about my favorite poem. He thought he was to blame for the way things ended. But while he might have had something to do with it, the real blame could be placed with my family and my own insecurities. I could have stayed with Greg and left my family behind if I weren't such an idiot, so afraid of everything including love and a future without fear. That was what really stood between Greg and me. I was afraid to leave the confines of the life I had created for myself after my mom died. I was afraid to leap. I didn't have much faith in "happily ever after." I saw my parents' marriage as strong and loving. And then I watched my dad fall apart emotionally and become the pawn of lobbyists and big money corporations. I'd heard it said once that you could buy Senator James Walsh's vote and swing it whichever way you chose; all you needed was enough money. My dad laughed when he heard things like that; "I'm just the voice of the people," he would say.

But he needed to have his own voice, his own opinions and beliefs. He couldn't just be some people-pleaser, a political prostitute, as it were. His opinions and speeches were formulated for him by other people. The people of Illinois could see James Walsh's voting record and the platforms on which he campaigned. But they couldn't know what Jim Walsh, husband, father, grandfather, friend, and neighbor thought about things. No one, not even Ellen, knew how he really felt about things. "Maybe he doesn't feel at all anymore," Connor had suggested once.

"That's a sickening idea," I'd replied. But maybe I was afraid to feel anymore. Maybe I was afraid to love and let myself get in too deep. And then I could get hurt. I was afraid of wounds that are deeper than paper cuts, wounds band-aids can't cover and Neosporin can't fix. I was afraid of opening up to someone about the pain in my past and my insecurities about my personality and my appearance. I didn't think I was the prettiest girl around or the smartest. I had dated Greg for close to a year and a half, and while he knew that I was a little insecure, he never realized how deep things ran. I never let him in far enough. I never trusted him enough. He knew that but he never knew why. I never told him how desolated and destroyed I was when my mom died.

And I was afraid of him. I never wanted to see him again. I loved him too much and I knew that he could never love me again. He could never trust me again.


A/N: Please review!