All of My Soul (15 page)

Lunch was held at a restaurant near our
hotel. It was close enough that Lincoln and I walked there while
holding hands. My nerves were starting to get the better of me
again. Lincoln tried to distract me with random trivia about our
nation’s capital, but it didn’t really help.

When we reached the entrance to the
restaurant, Lincoln paused. “All right. Now when you meet my dad,
remember there’s a specific way you have to address him.”

My eyes went wide. “There is?”

He nodded seriously. “You have to call him
either Grand Regal Senator Monaghan or His Imperial
Congressionalship”

I blinked up at Lincoln before I furrowed my
brows in confusion. Lincoln’s straight face cracked, and he let a
smile slip before busting out in laughter.

I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. I
couldn’t help but laugh at myself for believing him for a split
second. “Geez, Lincoln. What would you have done if I had believed
you?”

“I would have told you that you forgot to
curtsy,” he said as he held the door to the restaurant open for
me.

I laughed at his smart-ass response. Crossing
my ankles and bending my knees, I held up the bottom edge of my
jersey as if it were a skirt and curtsied for Lincoln before
walking into the restaurant.

Lincoln’s booming laughter echoed behind me,
and I smiled back at him. He had, once again, made me feel better.
I had forgotten I was supposed to be nervous.

The restaurant Lincoln’s mother had picked
for lunch was a moderately fancy little bistro. The tables and
chairs were wooden with white tablecloths while the booths that
lined the brick-and-mortar walls were a deep red color.

Only a few tables and booths were occupied,
and Lincoln’s parents were easy to spot. They sat at a table near
the back, and even if they hadn’t stood up from their chairs to
wave at us from across the restaurant, I would have known it was
them. Senator Monaghan wore a jersey that matched mine, and his
wife had donned a red zip-up hooded sweatshirt with Chicago
Blackhawks written across the front.

Lincoln waved before taking my hand to walk
over to them. He leaned down and whispered into my ear. “See? I
told you your outfit was perfect.”

I smiled and shook my head at how ridiculous
I had been this morning. It seemed so silly now to be worried about
my outfit. Of course Lincoln’s parents would be showing their pride
for their son by wearing their Hawks gear.

Lincoln’s parents stepped around the table to
greet us as we approached. I hung back, allowing my man to say
hello first.

“Lincoln!” his mother exclaimed as she threw
her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Son,” Senator Monaghan said warmly when
Lincoln’s mother finally let go of him. They shook hands and gave
each other a small hug.

Lincoln’s mother took his face in her hands.
“Oh, it’s been too long, sweetheart. How are you?”

He reached up to grab her wrists but didn’t
remove her hands. “I’m great, Mom.”

“Keeping up with practice? Staying out of
trouble?”

I couldn’t see his face, but I suspected
Lincoln was rolling his eyes at his mother. “Of course, Mom.”

“Lizzie, let him be,” the senator said,
scolding his wife. “I want to meet this girl of his.”

“Oh, yes!” Lincoln’s mother exclaimed. “Where
is she?”

My chest tightened and my mouth went dry as
my nerves came back in full force. I slowly and quietly blew out
the breath I was holding as Lincoln stepped to the side, allowing
me to be the center of attention.

“Mom and Dad, this is my princess.”

I swallowed hard as his mom and dad’s eyes
focused on me.

“It’s an hon”—my voice cracked and I coughed
to clear my throat—“it’s an honor to meet you,” I managed to
say.

“Jillian,” the senator said as he held his
hand out to me. “The honor is all ours. Now I can see why Lincoln
won’t stop talking about you.”

I blushed as I took his hand to shake it, but
he surprised me by pulling me close to hug me gently.

Lincoln’s mom came up next to us and rubbed
my back as I hugged her husband. The senator let go of me, and
immediately his wife embraced me tightly before holding me out at
arm’s length.

“So wonderful to meet you, Jillian. Did you
enjoy the museum?”

“I did, Mrs. Monaghan. It was really
spectacular.” I turned to the senator. “Thank you so much for
getting us in after hours.”

“Anytime, Jillian. Anytime. Shall we sit?” He
waved his arm to the table.

“And call me Elizabeth,” Lincoln’s mom said.
“No one calls me Lizzie except Ron.” She patted her husband’s hand
as he pulled her chair out for her.

I ended up sitting diagonal from Lincoln and
his father and across the table from Elizabeth.

Our waiter approached our table and stood
next to me. “Uh-oh. Blackhawks fans, huh? Not sure I can wait on
you today.”

It was an obvious, yet terrible attempt at a
joke, but I smiled and bit my lip. The middle-aged, balding man
apparently didn’t recognize Lincoln or his father.

“I take it you’re a Capitals fan?” Lincoln
asked with humor.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“Well, I would say yes, but today’s going to be a tough game for
the Caps. Those Hawks are on fire lately.”

A proud smile filled my face. It was true. My
man and the rest of the team were on a winning streak. They’d won
their last ten games. But of course that meant their ridiculous
superstitions came out in full force. None of Lincoln’s teammates
had shaved their beards or washed their socks since the streak
began. I tried to ask him how playing in dirty socks helped, but he
just laughed and told me not to jinx it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” our waiter continued.
“I’m a diehard Cappies fan, but those Hawks are something else
lately. Did you see that goal Olofsson made against the Predators
two nights ago? They must have replayed it on ESPN at least twenty
times. Damn good stick handling. And Monaghan! Talk about good
skating! They’re saying no one can touch him lately!”

“Oh?” I asked trying to stifle my laughter.
You’d think for as much as a hockey nut as this guy seemed to be,
he’d recognize Lincoln.

“Yeaaaah…,” he said, drawing out the vowel
sound when he spoke. “Don’t know how long it’ll last, though. He
was playing pretty rough a month or so back. If he could just stay
consistently good, they would have done better earlier in the
season.”

Lincoln leaned back in his chair and crossed
his arms. “Oh really? Well, they seem to think I play pretty good
in Chicago.”

I giggled and looked up at our flabbergasted
waiter. He had finally put the pieces together. His face turned red
with embarrassment as he looked between Lincoln and the
senator.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I—uh—don’t know what to
say. I didn’t mean any offense. I’m—uh—I’ll get you a new
waiter.”

Lincoln laughed loudly. “It’s okay, man.
You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“No, sir. I spoke out of place. I clearly
don’t know what I’m talking about.”

I laughed. “Actually, you do.” Lincoln had
played like crap during the time I wasn’t speaking to him. He
skipped practice and was a wreck on the ice. The team had suffered
because he was upset over me, and I did feel guilty about that.

Lincoln looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
“Geez, thanks, honey. You’re so sweet.” His tone dripped with
sarcasm, and I laughed.

Senator Monaghan winked at me. “She’s just
keeping it real, son. I like that.”

The poor embarrassed waiter took our meal
orders and quickly fled from our table.

“Jillian,” Lincoln’s mom said. “We were so
glad to hear you were okay after the incident in the hospital.
Carter was a mess when he called to tell us what was
happening.”

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Mom, can we not
talk about that?”

“Well, I just wanted to say I’m glad she’s
okay.”

I smiled shyly. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I
think it was worse for Lincoln than it was for me. I slept through
most of it.” I laughed as I tried to make light of the
situation.

“So! Lincoln tells us you’re a scientist,”
the senator said, and I was grateful for the subject change. It was
easy to talk about my research. The information poured out of me,
and before I knew it I had given them a long summary of my entire
thesis.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I talking too much?”

“Not at all, dear,” Elizabeth answered with a
warm smile as Lincoln chuckled and squeezed my hand.

“Now let me ask you something, Jillian. As a
politician and lawmaker, I have heard countless debates over stem
cell research. Obviously, as a scientist studying cell growth you
must encounter this dilemma. Do you feel it’s ethical?”

I took a deep breath and sighed. This could
be a sensitive topic, and I wanted to phrase my answer delicately
so as not to insult or offend Lincoln’s parents, so I bit my tongue
and gave Senator Monaghan a politically correct response, making
sure to not stray too far into the controversial parts of this
subject.

Lincoln’s father appraised me in silence, and
I hoped I said the right thing. Finally he smiled at me after
taking a long drink of water.

“That’s a very politically correct statement,
Jillian. Now how do you really feel?”

I glanced at Lincoln and then back at his
father, slightly confused. “That is how a really feel, sir.”

“But as a scientist, surely you’re curious to
learn what we’re capable of if stem cell research wasn’t
regulated.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t go into this field
expecting to make miracle breakthroughs at any cost. I want to help
people.” I looked down at the table and nervously pressed my hand
against my leggings that covered the scars on my thigh. “I know
what it’s like to have doctors tell you your sole option is a risky
and incredibly painful procedure with a limited success rate.
Hearing your best chance at healing will still leave your skin
looking mutilated and disgusting? It’s isolating and depressing,
and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. If stem cell skin grafts
can prevent even one person from having to go through that, then
yes I feel it’s necessary and even essential. But research for the
sake of curiosity? That’s a slippery slope that draws the focus
away from the main objective.”

“Which is?”

“Helping people,” I answered simply. That was
the basis for everything I had worked for. I imagined a burned
little girl lying in a hospital bed, scared and in pain. If what I
was doing prevented her from suffering the way I had, then it would
all be worthwhile. Maybe I was tilting at windmills, but I wouldn’t
give up.

Lincoln’s father relaxed back in his chair
with a small smile on his lips. I felt as if I had maybe passed a
test of some sort. The senator’s eyes glowed with what looked like
pride, and he nodded at Lincoln. “She’s a keeper, son.”

Lincoln squeezed my hand. “Don’t I know
it?”

“All right. Enough of that,” Lincoln’s father
said and dug into the meal the waiter had delivered. “Now, how’re
we looking for the play-offs?”

We discussed hockey and how Lincoln’s season
was going. His parents knew his stats, and it was easy to see how
much they wanted him to be successful and play well. I think it
would have been easy for him to crack under the pressure they
placed on him to be great, but fortunately he really did love this
sport, so the added pressure only encouraged him to play
better.

By the time our plates were empty, I was much
more relaxed. Our lunch had gone wonderfully, and it was easy to
see that Lincoln’s parents were good people. It was fun to see the
senator tease his son and give him a hard time. Now I knew where
Kennedy got her biting sense of humor.

It was also interesting to see the
interaction between Elizabeth and Lincoln. She was clearly proud of
him, but at the same time she made it clear that nothing less than
perfect would be accepted. Her son was a professional hockey player
worth millions of dollars, but she reminded him not to lose his
focus. She asked him if he was keeping a healthy diet, how hard he
had been practicing, and if he was listening to his coaches and
trainers.

I wondered if she had been this hard on
Kennedy and Carter as well. I couldn’t see Kennedy putting up with
it, but poor Carter. Out of the three of them, he saw their parents
the most since he was on the senator’s legal team. No wonder he was
the most reserved of all of them. It would have been difficult to
grow up under that scrutiny. My mother and oldest brother had put a
lot of pressure on us to do well in school and find good jobs, but
nothing like Lincoln’s mother.

Lincoln eventually put his foot down on his
mother’s nagging. He wasn’t mean about it, but he made it obvious
he wasn’t here to talk about himself. He politely directed the
conversation toward me, and I spent the next little while telling
them my life story.

Eventually Lincoln had to leave for warm-ups
and a team meeting before the game. I had been particularly nervous
about being left alone with his parents, but after meeting them, my
nerves had subsided. They were great people just like Lincoln had
said.

Between Lincoln and his father, cash was
thrown on the table to pay for our meal, and I noticed a generous
tip was left for our poor befuddled waiter. A man in a dark suit
who had been sitting alone near us stood up from his booth at the
same time we did. He caught my eye because he looked so out of
place. Elizabeth saw me staring at him and placed her hand on my
shoulder, drawing my attention to her. “Just security, dearie.
Don’t worry about them.”

“Them?” I asked as we walked out of the
restaurant. But she didn’t answer my question before I saw two town
cars sitting at the curb in front of the bistro. I recognized our
young driver from the previous night standing near the rear door of
our town car. A matching car sat parked behind it with a similar
man waiting for his passengers.