toast, and bacon, Leslie said, ‘There’s going to be a picnic at Green River Lake on Friday, Oliver. There will be a lot of people there. I’ll arrange for you to make a speech. We’ll buy radio time to let everyone know you’re going to be there. Then we’ll –’
‘Leslie,’ he protested, ‘I haven’t the money to do that.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ she said airily. ‘The agency will pay for it.’
She knew that there was not the remotest chance that the agency would pay for it. She intended to do that herself. She would tell Jim Bailey that the money had been donated by a Russell supporter. And it would be the truth. I’ll do anything in the world to help him, she thought.
There were two hundred people at the picnic at Green River Lake, and when Oliver addressed the crowd, he was brilliant.
‘Half the people in this country don’t vote,’ he told them. ‘We have the lowest voting record of any industrial country in the world – less than fifty percent. If you want things to change, it’s your responsibility to make sure they do change. It’s more than a responsibility, it’s a privilege. There’s an election coming up soon. Whether you vote for me or my opponent, vote. Be there.’
They cheered him.
Leslie arranged for Oliver to appear at as many functions as possible. He presided at the opening of a children’s clinic, dedicated a bridge, talked to women’s groups, labor groups, at charity events, and retirement homes. Still, he kept slipping in the polls. Whenever Oliver was not campaigning, he and Leslie found some time to be together. They went riding in a horse-drawn carriage through Triangle Park, spent a Saturday afternoon at the Antique Market, and had dinner at À la Lucie. Oliver gave Leslie flowers for Groundhog Day and on the anniversary of the Battle of Bull Run, and left loving messages on her answering machine: ‘Darling – where are you? I miss you, miss you, miss you.’
‘I’m madly in love with your answering machine. Do you have any idea how sexy it sounds?’
‘I think it must be illegal to be this happy. I love you.’
It didn’t matter to Leslie where she and Oliver went: She just wanted to be with him.
One of the most exciting things they did was to go whitewater rafting on the Russell Fork River one Sunday. The trip started innocently, gently, until the river began to pound its way around the base of the mountains in a giant loop that began a series of deafening, breathtaking vertical drops in the rapids: five feet … eight feet … nine feet … only a terrifying raft length apart. The trip took three and a half hours, and when Leslie and Oliver got off the raft, they were soaking wet and glad to be alive. They could not keep their hands off each other. They made love in their cabin, in the back of his automobile, in the woods.
One early fall evening, Oliver prepared dinner at his home, a charming house in Versailles, a small town near Lexington. There were grilled flank steaks marinated in soy sauce, garlic, and herbs, served with baked potato, salad, and a perfect red wine.
‘You’re a wonderful cook,’ Leslie told him. She snuggled up to him. ‘In fact, you’re a wonderful everything, sweetheart.’
‘Thank you, my love.’ He remembered something. ‘I have a little surprise for you that I want you to try.’ He disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and came out carrying a small bottle with a clear liquid inside.
‘Here it is,’ he said.
‘What is it?’
‘Have you heard of Ecstasy?’
‘Heard of it? I’m in it.’
‘I mean the drug Ecstasy. This is liquid Ecstasy. It’s supposed to be a great aphrodisiac’
Leslie frowned. ‘Darling – you don’t need that. We don’t need it. It could be dangerous.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you use it often?’
Oliver laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I don’t. Take that look off your face. A friend of mine gave me this and told me to try it. This would have been the first time.’
‘Let’s not have a first time,’ Leslie said. ‘Will you throw it away?’
‘You’re right. Of course I will.’ He went into the bathroom, and a moment later Leslie heard the toilet flush. Oliver reappeared.
‘All gone.’ He grinned. ‘Who needs Ecstasy in a bottle? I have it in a better package.’
And he took her in his arms.
Leslie had read the love stories and had heard the love songs, but nothing had prepared her for the incredible reality. She had always thought that romantic lyrics were sentimental nonsense, wishful dreaming. She knew better now. The world suddenly seemed brighter, more beautiful. Everything was touched with magic, and the magic was Oliver Russell.
One Saturday morning, Oliver and Leslie were hiking in the Breaks Interstate Park, enjoying the spectacular scenery that surrounded them.
‘I’ve never been on this trail before,’ Leslie said.
‘I think you’re going to enjoy it.’
They were approaching a sharp curve in the path. As they rounded it, Leslie stopped, stunned. In the middle of the path was a hand-painted wooden sign: LESLIE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?
Leslie’s heart began to beat faster. She turned to Oliver, speechless.
He took her in his arms. ‘Will you?’
How did I get so lucky? Leslie wondered. She hugged him tightly and whispered, ‘Yes, darling. Of course I will.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t promise you that you’re going to marry a governor, but I’m a pretty good attorney.’
She snuggled up to him and whispered, ‘That will do nicely.’
A few nights later, Leslie was getting dressed to meet Oliver for dinner when he telephoned.
‘Darling, I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve bad news. I have to go to a meeting tonight, and I’ll have to cancel our dinner. Will you forgive me?’
Leslie smiled and said softly, ‘You’re forgiven.’
The following day, Leslie picked up a copy of the State Journal. The headline read: WOMAN’S BODY FOUND IN KENTUCKY RIVER. The story went on: ‘Early this morning, the body of a nude woman who appeared to be in her early twenties was found by police in the Kentucky River ten miles east of Lexington. An autopsy is being performed to determine the cause of death …’
Leslie shuddered as she read the story. To die so young. Did she have a lover? A husband? How thankful I am to be alive and so happy and so loved.
It seemed that all of Lexington was talking about the forthcoming wedding. Lexington was a small town, and Oliver Russell was a popular figure. They were a spectacular-looking couple, Oliver dark and handsome, and Leslie with her lovely face and figure and honey-blond hair. The news had spread like wildfire.
‘I hope he knows how lucky he is,’ Jim Bailey said.
Leslie smiled. ‘We’re both lucky.’
‘Are you going to elope?’
‘No. Oliver wants to have a formal wedding. We’re getting married at the Calvary Chapel church.’
‘When does the happy event take place?’
‘In six weeks.’
A few days later, a story on the front page of the State Journal read: ‘An autopsy has revealed that the woman found in the Kentucky River, identified as Lisa Burnette, a legal secretary, died of an overdose of a dangerous illegal drug known on the streets as liquid Ecstasy …’
Liquid Ecstasy. Leslie recalled the evening with Oliver. And she thought, How lucky it was that he threw that bottle away.
The