Election Day
Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fic. I really appreciate it. Phoenix - I believe that in some towns, sheriffs are elected, especially in small towns. As for why I have never written anything before: Well, I have been dreaming up fanfic all my life, making up stories with my favorite characters from TV shows and movies. In fact, my parents insist that my imaginary friend when I was very little was Mr. Rogers. Only recently did I discover that people wrote the stuff down and posted it for others. (I know, what rock have I been living under?) Even then, I just read fan fiction, but never thought I could actually write it. Then I decided, what the heck, why not give it a try, and this story was the result.
Dedication: to all the people who have reviewed my story and to M.L., my best friend, who convinced me to actually post my story here.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't sue.
Chapter 2: Not an Ordinary Day
The next morning, Doug opened his eyes a few minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Sometime during the night, their positions had reversed and Doug awoke to find his head pillowed on Jack's chest. Somehow all of the dark fears and uncertainty of the previous night had evaporated with the morning light, and he was left with a feeling of peace. For a few minutes, he lay there, enjoying the intimacy of being able to listen to Jack's heartbeat. He finally stretched up to kiss Jack, and as Jack's eyelids fluttered open, the alarm clock began to ring.
"How can you manage to wake up before the alarm rings?" Jack mumbled.
"How can you never wake up early?" Doug replied. "Besides, I like to be the one to wake you up." It was a conversation that replayed itself in some form at least two or three times a week.
In short order, the morning routine of showers and coffee had been completed, and it was time to wake up Amy. Doug fed her breakfast as Jack finished getting ready to head off to school. After kissing Doug and Amy on his way out the door, Jack turned back to ask, "what time will you be home tonight?"
Doug replied, "Shift ends at nine, so probably around 9:15 PM." He watched as Jack drove down the street before turning to Amy, "so kiddo – how about you and me going to the park?"
As he pushed her on the swings, he reflected on how much he enjoyed the days when he began work at noon, giving him a few hours to spend with Amy, just the two of them.
All too soon, it was time to drop her off at daycare and head to work, with a short detour to the Capeside high school gym, where he stopped to cast his vote. It seemed a bit narcissistic to vote for himself, but in this election, he figured he might need every vote he could get.
As Doug entered the station, he was greeted by Jim, the most senior of the deputies and Holly, who worked in the front office. Their greetings were as warm as usual, but he could detect an undercurrent of tension, which was understandable, seeing how this election would determine who would be their boss. It was a relief to put on his uniform and head out on patrol. As he drove around the streets of the town where he had lived his entire life, he could relax and forget the fact that today was election day.
As Doug drove down the street, he saw Evie Wilkins standing at the side of the road with her walker. Doug frowned, knowing that even though it had been 8 months since she had fallen and broken her hip, standing for long periods of time was still painful for the 85-year-old woman. He pulled over to the curb and got of the patrol car. "Mornin' Mrs. Wilkins. Are you waiting for someone?" he asked.
She looked anxiously up the street, as if someone or something would magically appear, "Dial-A-Ride was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, and I need to go pick up a prescription at the pharmacy."
He walked around to open the passenger-side door, saying, "Well, the criminals of Capeside seem to be on vacation today, so why don't I give you a ride." He helped her into the car, and they set off towards Dalton's Pharmacy, where he had taken her once before to pick up her heart medication.
The rode in companionable silence for a few blocks until she suddenly said, "the other day, that nice Mrs. Carter brought me homemade cookies."
Doug groaned, thinking about how Roy Carter and his wife were retired, leaving them with plenty of time for campaigning. Jack, Pacey and all of their friends had pitched in as best they could, but they were all busy with their own jobs and families. Without thinking, he replied, "well, my boyfriend would have baked cookies if it would have helped, but trust me, you wouldn't want to eat them!"
When he saw the look of confusion on Evie's face, he realized he had just outed himself to one of Capeside's little old ladies. On election day, no less! It always amazed him when he realized that there were probably a lot of people in Capeside that had no idea he was gay. When he had come out, the news hadn't created the uproar he had expected. He had never been a big fan of public displays of affection, and so there were probably people in Capeside that had still had no idea that he was gay. Most people seemed to be wrapped up in their own lives and there own personal dramas that they rarely took the time to observe the world around them. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't have been easier to take out a full page add in the Capeside Gazette proclaiming, "Sheriff Doug is GAY". At least he could avoid situations like he found himself it presently.
Before he could think of something to say, Evie asked, "What's wrong with Jack's cookies? It's not like cookies are that hard to make!" she exclaimed.
With a start, Doug realized she had known all along about him and Jack. With a laugh, he explained, "Jack is a wonderful man with a lot of talents, but cooking is not one of them." He glanced over at his passenger, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I used to think he was just trying to get out of cooking by claiming to be terrible at it. Then I saw him in action. He really is bad. He confuses tablespoons and teaspoons, he forgets key ingredients. Something always seems to go wrong. Therefore I do all of the cooking."
When they reached the pharmacy, she smiled back at him, before reaching over to pat his hand. "Don't worry dear, cookies have nothing to do with the ability to be a good Sheriff." He helped her out of the car, and then escorted her into the drugstore.
As he waited for Evie to pick up her medication, he browsed the aisles. As he greeted other customers, he found that he was scrutinizing their reactions, trying to gauge their responses. Would they have voted for him? Were their greetings only polite? By the time Evie was finished, many of the doubts of the previous night had come rushing back.
Doug was silent as he drove Evie back to the retirement complex where she lived. Luckily, responses were not really necessary as she talked about her grandson starting kindergarten that year. After dropping her off, he realized that he could not face any more members of the community because he could not relax as if this were any other day. He knew he would spend the day mentally trying to tally the votes.
After radioing in his intentions, he drove out to main road passing through town, were the Capeside sheriffs Department often watched for speeding motorists. Most of the locals knew the location of the speed trap, so even if he did pull someone over for speeding, it was more likely to be someone just passing through. As he sat there for the next few hours, he found that he could once again relax and block out the fact that there was an election going on. Some people might think that this duty was extremely tedious, but Doug often found that he enjoyed the time when he could be alone with his thoughts. He also knew that keeping the average speed at a reasonable level on this stretch of road was important, because there was a nasty bend about a mile down the road that often came as a surprise to motorists unfamiliar with the road. In the four hours that he sat with his patrol vehicle parked behind a bush, the closest he came to needing to issue a citation was when the truck from the Potter B B drove past at one mile per hour over the posted speed limit. From his vantage point, it was impossible to tell who was driving the truck.
After stopping at a hamburger joint to pick up dinner, he spent the rest of his shift slowly driving through town. The last few hours seemed to drag on forever; it seemed like his shift would never end. All he could think of was how much he was looking forward to going home, where he could be with Jack and they could wait for the election results to be announced. Waiting for the phone call that could change all of their lives.
To be continued... (one more chapter to go..)
