"Correct," said Dr. Renwick, "the assumption that twins must look alike has always been a myth, mainly perpetrated by romantic novelists."
"But, that doesn't explain ..." began Nat.
"Should you wish to know the answer to any other questions you might have," said Dr. Renwick, "including who are your natural parents, and how you became separated, I am only too happy that you should study this file at your leisure." Dr. Renwick tapped the open file in front of him once again.Neither man responded immediately. It was some time before Fletcher said, "I don't need to see the contents of the file."
It was Dr. Renwick's turn to register surprise.
"There's nothing I don't know about Nat Cartwright," Fletcher explained, "including the details of the tragic death of his brother."
Nat nodded. "My mother still keeps a picture of both of us by her bedside, and often talks of my brother Peter and what he might have grown up to be." He paused and looked at Fletcher. "She would have been proud of the man who saved his brother's life. But I do have one question," he added, turning back to face Dr. Renwick, "I need to ask if Mrs. Davenport is aware that Fletcher isn't her son?"
"Not that I know of," replied Renwick.
"What makes you so sure?" asked Fletcher.
"Because among the many items I came across in this file was a letter from the doctor who delivered you both.
He left instructions that it was only to be opened if a dispute should arise concerning your birth that might harm the hospital's reputation. And that letter states that there was only one other person who knew the truth, other than Dr. Greenwood."
"Who was that?" asked Nat and Fletcher simultaneously.
Dr. Renwick paused while he turned another page in his file. "A Miss Heather Nichol, but as she and Dr. Greenwood have since died, there's no way of confirming it."
"She was my nanny," said Fletcher, "and from what I can remember of her, she would have done anything to please my mother." He turned to look at Nat.
"However, I would still prefer that my parents never find out the truth."
"I have no problem with that," said Nat. "What purpose can be served by putting our parents through such an unnecessary ordeal? If Mrs. Davenport became aware that Fletcher was not her son, and my motherwere to discover that Peter had never died, and she had been deprived of the chance of bringing up both of her children, the distress and turmoil that would quite obviously follow doesn't bear thinking about."
"I agree," said Fletcher. "My parents are now both nearly eighty, so why resurrect such ghosts of the past?" He paused for some time. "Though I confess I can only wonder how different our lives might have been, had I ended up in your crib, and you in mine," he said, looking at Nat.
"We'll never know," Nat replied. "However, one thing remains certain."
"What's that?" asked Fletcher.
"I would still be the next governor of Connecticut."
"What makes you so confident of that?" asked Fletcher.
"I had a head start on you and have remained in the lead ever since. After all, I've been on earth six minutes longer than you."
"A tiny disadvantage from which I had fully recovered within the hour."
"Children, children," admonished Ben Renwick a second time. Both men laughed as the doctor closed the file in front of him. "Then we are in agreement that any evidence proving your relationship should be destroyed and never referred to again."
"Agreed," said Fletcher without hesitation.
"Never referred to again," repeated Nat.
Both men watched as Dr. Renwick opened the file and first extracted a birth certificate which he placed firmly into the shredder. Neither spoke as they watched each piece of evidence disappear. The birth certificate was followed by a three-page letter dated May 11, 1949, signed by Dr.
Greenwood. After that came 5 several internal hospital documents and memos, all stamped 1949. Dr. Renwick continued to place them one by one through the ?" shredder until all he was left with was an empty file. On top were printed the names Nathaniel and Peter Cartwright.
He tore thefile into four pieces before offering the final vestige of proof to the waiting teeth of the shredder.
Fletcher rose unsteadily from his place, and turned to shake hands with his brother. "See you in the governor's mansion."
"You sure will," said Nat, taking him in his arms.
"The first thing I'll do is put in a wheelchair ramp so you can visit me regularly."
"Well, I have to go," said Fletcher, turning to shake hands with Ben Renwick. "I've got an election to win." He hobbled toward the door, trying to reach it before Nat, but his brother jumped in front and held it open for him.
"I was brought up to open doors for women, senior citizens and invalids," explained Nat.
"And you can now add future governors to that list," said Fletcher, hobbling through.
"Have you read my paper on disability benefits?"
asked Nat, as he caught up with him.
"No," Fletcher replied, "I've never bothered with impractical ideas that could never reach the statute books."
"You know, I will regret only one thing," said Nat, once they were alone in the corridor and could no longer be overheard by Dr. Renwick.
"Let me guess," said Fletcher as he waited for the next quip.
"I think you would have been one hell of a brother to grow up with."
dr. renwick's prediction turned out to be accurate. Senator Davenport had discharged himself from St. Patrick's by the weekend, and a fortnight later no one would have believed he had been within hours of dying only a month before.
With only a few days left before the election, Clinton went farther ahead in the national polls as Perot continued to eat into Bush's support. Both Nat and Fletcher went on traveling around the state at a pace that would have impressed an Olympic athlete. Neither waited for the other to challenge them to a debate, and when one of the local television companies suggested they should face each other in three encounters, both accepted without needing any persuasion.It was universally agreed that Fletcher came off better in the first duel, and the polls confirmed that impression when he went into the lead for the first time.
Nat immediately cut down on his travel commitments, and spent several hours in a mock-up television studio being coached by his staff. It paid off, because even the local Democrats conceded that he had won the second round, when the polls put him back into the lead.
So much rested on the final debate that both men became overanxious not to make a mistake, and it ended up being judged as a stalemate or, as Lucy described it, "dullmate." Neither candidate was distressed to learn that a rival station had aired a football game that had been watched by ten times as many viewers. The polls the following day put both candidates at forty-six percent, with eight percent undecided.
"Where have they been for the past six months?" demanded Fletcher as he stared at the figure of eight percent.
"Not everyone is as fascinated by politics as you are," suggested Annie over breakfast that morning.
Lucy nodded her agreement.
Fletcher hired a helicopter and Nat chartered the bank's small jet to take them around the state during the final seven days, by which time the don't-knows had fallen to six percent, shedding one point to each rival. By the end of the week, both men wondered if there was a shopping mall, factory, railway station, town hall, hospital or even street that they hadn't visited, and both accepted that, in the end, it was going to be the organization on the ground that mattered. And the winner would be the one who had the best-oiled machine on election day. No one was more aware of this than Tom and Jimmy, but they couldn't think of anything they hadn't already done or prepared for, and could only speculate as to what might go wrong at the last minute.
For Nat, election day was a blur of airports and main streets, as he tried to visit every city that had a runway before the polling booths closed at eight P.m. As soon as his plane touched down, he would run to the second car in themotorcade, and take off at seventy miles an hour, until he reached the city limits, where he would slow down to ten miles an hour, and start waving at anyone who showed the slightest interest. He ended up in the main street at a walking pace, and then reversed the process with a frantic dash back to the airport before taking off for the next city.
Fletcher spent his final morning in Hartford, trying to get out his core vote before taking the helicopter to visit the most densely populated Democratic areas. Later that night, commentators even discussed who had made the better use of the last few hours. Both men landed back at Hartford's Brainard airport a few minutes after the polls had closed.
Normally in these situations, candidates will go to almost any lengths to avoid one another, but when the two teams crossed on the tarmac, like jousters at a fair, they headed straight toward each other.
"Senator," said Nat, "I will need to see you first thing in the morning as there are several changes I will require before I feel able to sign your education bill."
"The bill will be law by this time tomorrow," replied Fletcher. "I intend it to be my first executive action as governor."
Both men became aware that their closest aides had fallen back so that they could have a private conversation, and they realized that the banter served little purpose if there was no audience to play to.
"How's Lucy?" asked Nat. "I hope her problem's been sorted out."
"How did you know about that?" asked Fletcher.
"One of my staff was leaked the details a couple of weeks ago. I made it clear that if the subject was raised again he would no longer be part of my team."
"I'm grateful," said Fletcher, "because I still haven't told Annie." He paused, "Lucy spent a few days in New York with Logan Fitzgerald, and then returned home to join me on the campaign trail.""I wish I'd been able to watch her grow up, like any other uncle. I would have loved to have a daughter."
"Most days of the week she'd happily swap me for you," said Fletcher. "I've even had to raise her allowance in exchange for not continually reminding me how wonderful you are."
"I've never told you," said Nat, "that after your intervention with that gunman who took over Miss Hudson's class at Hartford School, Luke stuck a photograph of you up on his bedroom wall, and never took it down, so please pass on my best wishes to my niece."
"I will, but be warned that if you win, she's going to postpone college for a year and apply for a job in your office as an intern, and she's already made it clear that she won't be available if her 4 father is the governor."
"Then I look forward to her joining my team," said Nat, as one or two aides reappeared and suggested that perhaps it was time for both of them to be moving on.
Fletcher smiled. "How do you want to play tonight?"
"If either of us gets a clear lead by midnight, the other will call and concede?"
"Suits me," said Fletcher, "I think you know my home number."
"I'll be waiting for your call, Senator," said Nat.
The two candidates shook hands on the concourse outside the airport, and their motorcades whisked off in different directions.
A designated team of state troopers followed both candidates home. Their orders were clear. If your man wins, you are protecting the new governor.
If he loses, you take the weekend off.
Neither team took the weekend off.
Nat switched ON the radio the moment he got into the car. The early exit polls were making it clear that Bill Clinton would be taking up residence in the White House next January, and that President Bush would probably have to concede before midnight. Alifetime of public service, a year of campaigning, a day of voting, and your political career becomes a footnote in history. "That's democracy for you," President Bush was later heard to remark ruefully.
Other pollsters across the country were suggesting that not only the White House, but both the Senate and Congress would be controlled by the Democrats.
CBS'S anchor man, Dan Rather, was reporting a close result in several seats. "In Connecticut, for example, the gubernatorial race is too close to call, and the exit polls are unable to predict the outcome. But for now it's over to our correspondent in Little Rock, who is outside Governor Clinton's home."
Nat flicked off the radio as the little motorcade of three SUV'S came to a halt outside his home. He was greeted by two television cameras, a radio reporter and a couple of journalists-how different from Arkansas, where over a hundred television cameras and countless radio and newspaper journalists waited for the first words of the president-elect. Tom was standing by the front door.
"Don't tell me," said Nat as he walked past the press and into the house. "It's too close to call. So when can we hope to hear a result involving some real voters?"
"We're expecting the first indicators to come through within the hour," said Tom, "and if it's Bristol, they usually vote Democrat."
"Yes, but by how much?" asked Nat as they headed toward the kitchen, to find Su Ling glued to the television, a burning smell coming from the stove.
Fletcher stood in front of the television, watching Clinton as he waved to the crowds from the balcony of his home in Arkansas.
At the same time he tried to listen to a briefing from Jimmy. When he'd first met the Arkansas governor at the Democratic convention in New York City, Fletcher hadn't given him a prayer. To think that only last year, followingAmerica's victory in the Gulf War, Bush had enjoyed the highest opinion poll ratings in history.
"Clinton may be declared the winner," said Fletcher, "but Bush sure as hell lost it." He stared at Bill and Hillary hugging each other, as their bemused twelve-year-old daughter stood by their side. He thought about Lucy and her recent abortion, realizing it would have been front-page news if he had been running for president. He wondered how Chelsea would cope with that sort of pressure.
Lucy came dashing into the room. "Mom and I have prepared all your favorite dishes, as it will be nothing but public functions for the next four years."
He smiled at her youthful exuberance. "Corn on the cob, spaghetti bolognese, and if you've won before midnight, creme brulee."
"But not all together," begged Fletcher, and, turning to Jimmy, who had rarely been off the phone since the moment he'd entered the house, he asked, "When are you expecting the first result in?"
"Any minute now," Jimmy replied.
"Bristol prides itself on always announcing first, and we have to capture that by three to four percent if we hope to win overall."
"And below three percent?"
"We're in trouble," Jimmy replied.
Nat checked his watch. It was just after nine in Hartford, but the image on the screen showed voters still going to the polls in California. breaking NEWS was plastered across the screen. NBC was the first to declare that Clinton would be the new president of the United States. George Bush was already being labeled by the networks with the cruel epitaph "one-termer."
The phones rang constantly in the background, as Tom tried to field all the calls. If he thought Nat ought to speak to the caller personally, the phone was passed across to him, if not, he heard Tom repeating, "He's tied up at the moment, but thank you for calling, I'll pass your messageon."
"I hope there's a TV wherever I'm "tied up,"" said Nat, "otherwise I'll never know whether to accept or concede," he added as he tried valiantly to cut into a burned steak.
"At last a real piece of news," said Tom, "but I can't work out who it helps, because the turnout in Connecticut was fifty-one percent, a couple of points above the national average." Nat nodded, turning his attention back to the screen. The words "too close to call" were still being relayed from every corner of the state.
When Nat heard the name Bristol, he pushed aside his steak. "And now we go over to our eyewitness correspondent for the latest update,"
said the news anchor.
"Dan, we're expecting a result here at any moment, and it should be the first real sign of just how close this gubernatorial race really is. If the Democrats win by... hold on, the result is coming over on my earpiece. the Democrats have taken Bristol." Lucy leaped out of her chair, but Fletcher didn't move as he waited for the details to be flashed across the bottom of the screen.
"Fletcher Davenport 8,604 votes, Nat Cartwright 8,379," said the reporter.
"Three percent. Who's due up next?"
"Probably Waterbury," said Tom, "where we should do well because ..."
"And Waterbury has gone to the Republicans, by just over five thousand votes, putting Nat Cartwright into the lead."
Both candidates spent the rest of the evening leaping up, sitting down and then leaping back up again as the lead changed hands sixteen times during the next two hours, by which time even the commentators had run out of hyperbole's. But somewhere in between the results flooding in, the local anchor man found time to announce that President Bush had phoned Governor Clinton in Arkansas to concede. He had offered his congratulations and best wishes to the president-elect. Does this herald a new Kennedy era? The politicos were asking." But nowback to the race for governor of Connecticut, and here's one for the statistics buffs, the position at the moment is that the Democrats lead the Republicans by 1,170,141 to 1,168,872, an overall lead for Senator Davenport of 1,269.
As that is less than one percent, an automatic recount would have to take place. And if that isn't enough," continued the commentator, "we face an added complication because the district of Madison maintains its age-old tradition of not counting its votes until ten o'clock tomorrow morning."