by Susan Sands
George held up his hands. “My wife has a therapist. Maybe you should consider it. Might help you work out your demons. She swears by her. Doctor O’Connor, I think is her name. Maybe I’ll share her name with Jeff and his fiancée. Sounds like she might need to speak to someone.”
“I would prefer you didn’t, since I know Dr. O’Connor personally.”
“Her too, huh? You do get around.” George shook his head.
Sabine had given each patient her full and complete attention, along with the very best advice and feedback possible without losing herself in their problems today. It wasn’t terribly hard in some cases, when the “problems” weren’t much deeper than choosing a seat on the board on the Junior League when one’s friend was passed over for the position. Keeping a professional distance continued to be an issue when the patients were children suffering from abuse, or women who were trying to figure out whether to leave their husbands, or not.
She and Mom were leaving after Sabine got off work to travel the two hours’ distance to the Montgomery Federal Prison Camp on the other side of Montgomery.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just go by yourself,” Mom said. Her displeasure over being strong-armed into taking this trip was obvious.
“Because I couldn’t focus knowing you were home alone. Plus, you need to face Dad. It’s way past time.”
“I faced him for twenty-seven years, thank you very much. Every day and night.”
“You know what I mean. I’m talking about since you left.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“That’s easy to say. We’re all a little afraid of him, Mom. He can be a pretty scary guy.” Dad hadn’t ever been abusive to any of them, but he had an edge of icy authority about him that booked no argument. He’d rarely shown that side of himself to his family, but when he’d put his foot down about something, they’d known not to argue the point further.
“What can he do to me that he hasn’t already done?”
“He can make things harder for us to move on beyond his imprisonment. If we go and talk with him, maybe he’ll believe we’ve done as he’s asked.”
“I don’t want to capitulate and bow down to him.”
“I know; me neither. But you can face him. Tell him how you feel. Don’t call him names, though. It won’t help anything, okay?”
“I can’t believe you would ask that kind of restraint of me.” Mom’s expression was fierce as she stared out the car’s windshield.
“I know he deserves every name in the book, but having an honest conversation really would be helpful for you both. And it won’t incite him to do anything rash.”
“Fine. But it doesn’t keep me from wishing for him to get exactly what he deserves. Like someone throwing him naked on an anthill with peanut butter on his genitals. You know, real justice.”
Sabine nodded and laughed as she exited the interstate. “Wow, that’s a powerful visual. And while I know that would give everyone he’s hurt some real visceral satisfaction, I look forward to the day that we can both just wake up every morning without a cloud hanging over our heads.”
Dad had used his position as district attorney of New Orleans to manipulate politics and people. It had taken years for the right people to catch on, or maybe it had just taken that long for them to build an airtight case against him. He’d tampered with juries, influenced witnesses, and used his political connections to sway outcomes of trials. Sabine didn’t understand his motivations, but believed him to be a misguided vigilante.
Dad had often ranted about criminals getting away with murder, human trafficking, and some of the most heinous crimes imaginable. He said the system was slow and broken, and that the worst of the thugs too often got off on technicalities. He’d figured out his own elaborate system to make sure that wasn’t the case during his time in office.
Unfortunately for him, the feds hadn’t agreed with his methods.
Sabine pulled into the parking lot of the budget hotel where they had reservations. It was a chain, but she knew it to be clean and recently updated from her first visit last year. Last year, her mother had refused to see her dad. She’d remained in the hotel room when Sabine had gone to the prison.
Ben couldn’t sleep. How had Hailey Choate gotten pregnant? Why hadn’t she told him? How must that have affected her emotionally? He’d convinced himself he was so chivalrous and fair with all the women he’d dated. Maybe he’d been fooling everyone. The town had treated him with such respect, a respect he’d believed was well-earned.
What if he was every bit the selfish bastard Sabine believed? Clearly, he’d hurt people with his emotional unavailability. But to impregnate a young woman who’d miscarried his child was far too much for him to ignore. He bore real responsibility in that.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed Jeff’s number.
Jeff answered in a gruff voice. Ben had obviously woken him. “What the hell do you want, Laroux?”
“I want to meet with Hailey.”
“Fuck off.” The line went dead.
Well, maybe tomorrow would be a better time to approach this issue.
Ben had an inexplicable urge to see Sabine. To speak with her about this. She had inside info that he didn’t. It bothered him deeply to think his perception of himself was profoundly distorted.
He doubted she would appreciate a two a.m. phone call.
So, Ben grabbed the handy notepad he kept on his bedside table to jot down ideas for making his cases in court when inspiration struck after hours. He made a list. Of women. It began with his high school girlfriends and prom dates, then college. He skipped the two-and-a-half Lisa years. As he flipped to the third page, a sick sensation began in the pit of Ben’s stomach.
No, he hadn’t slept with them all, not even half, but how many of them had been emotionally invested that he’d blown off with his casual insensitivity?
He always used a condom, besides with Lisa, and that had taken at least a year, at her insistence. No, he didn’t have any diseases, of that he was certain, due to his annual checkups.
How had he not seen what he’d become? Yes, his sisters gave him a hard time about the number of women he’d dated over the years. But he’d dismissed it as the usual harassment.
He needed to speak with Hailey. Perhaps he should go down his list and make amends. Like the program for addicts. Face his shortcomings, take responsibility, and ask for forgiveness. A daunting task. But he had to know how many women he’d hurt, and the possible impact it might have had on their lives. Obviously, Hailey’s life had been affected.
And those women in therapy. How many were legit?
Or was his opinion of himself way overblown? Might he just be the egotistical ass Sabine had suggested? Perhaps there was a middle ground. Sabine held the key here; he was certain.
Sabine’s heart was beating fast, so she could only imagine how her mother’s emotions were faring. A casual observer wouldn’t be able to notice Mom’s discomfort at a glance. She wore a fitted jacket in medium blue, with a white blouse beneath, paired with hammered silver jewelry. Her warm brown, medium-length bob haircut was shot through with only a few gray strands. Her nails were impeccably done in deep coral. She appeared cool, neat, and calm, and utterly beautiful as always. Her stress carried all on the inside. She’d had years of practice at maintaining her outer composure as a politician’s wife.
They waited at what reminded Sabine of a cafeteria lunchroom table with its navy plastic seated chairs with shiny metal legs.
The parole hearing was coming up soon and she assumed her father wanted her to speak up as family on his behalf. She knew him so well.
Jean-Claude Prudhomme was escorted into the room without handcuffs or shackles. He sauntered in wearing tennis shoes with Velcro and a simple gray sweat suit. His graying beard was neatly trimmed, as was his head of curly, thick salt and pepper hair. He had deep laugh lines at the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. His snapping, pale blue eyes were Sabine’s e
xact color. He was an incredibly handsome man. That alone had gotten him far in life.
“Ah, two of my favorite ladies.” A genuine smile lit his face upon seeing them.
Sabine rose and greeted him with a light kiss on both cheeks. Her mother did not.
The disappointment in his glacial blue eyes was evident, but quickly hidden.
“I’m so glad you took the time to come out today, my dear.”
Sabine nailed him with a direct gaze. “James stopped by and insinuated that I should—or else.”
Her father frowned. “What did the boy say?”
“He suggested that he could get to either me or Mom at any time.” Sabine knew that her father wouldn’t let any physical harm befall them at James’s hands.
Her father’s eyes hardened. “I’ll handle that.”
“Dad, we want to move on. Both of us. We’re ready to be released from your service.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, an edge to his question.
“I mean that I’m moving forward with a divorce from Richard. And Mom wants to be free to live her life as she chooses.”
“A divorce? Why?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Because I don’t intend to live my life in the public eye any longer. I’m not going to accept that kind of humiliation again, and I can’t live with a man who cheats.”
“All men cheat.” Her father appeared baffled by what she’d said.
Her mother made a disgusted sound but didn’t speak.
“No, Dad; you cheated, and Richard cheated because you both believed you were more important than mere mortal men. That you could do so and we would accept it as part of our lives. We didn’t and don’t. No woman should have to live with her husband seeking out other women in his bed.”
“It’s normal for powerful men to do this.” His Creole accent was more pronounced when he became agitated.
“No, it’s not. And we don’t have to live with it. We won’t.”
Suddenly, her mother stood and leaned over the table toward her ex-husband.
“I would rather die than spend one more day as your wife. Oh, and I don’t have to because I finally got the divorce decree. I don’t love you. You killed anything I felt for you when your sex tape with those whores went public. You humiliated me to everyone I knew.”
“You took that too hard, Elizabeth.” His tone was meant to soothe. “There was never anyone but you in my heart.” He placed his closed palm over his chest.
Her mother smiled, a cold, hard smile. And totally ignored his gesture.
“But the worst was your bringing James into our lives and allowing him to rule our household. You never disciplined him, and he ruined our lives. He’s been like a dark shadow over us all the time.”
Her father’s face changed. “I could have done better with the boy. But he was my son, and I felt I should compensate for his losing his mother.”
Sabine chose to ignore his comment, and said, “While you’ve been here, he’s been running amok. We need reassurance that you can keep him out of our lives.”
Her mother sat down and glared at her father.
“I can see why you wouldn’t want James in your lives. But I don’t want to be cut out.”
“Dad, we’re living quietly now. We’d like to keep it that way. Wherever you go, you’ll stir up scandal and negative attention.”
“I never meant to hurt either of you.”
“When you cheat on your wife repeatedly and do the disgusting things you’ve done, you lose the right to utter those words, Jean-Claude,” Mom said.
Dad shook his head. “I know. I get it. But I can’t stand the thought of losing you both, or your sister. Where is Rachel, by the way?”
“Rachel is away on a shoot. I’ll come out for your parole hearing and do my best to be a fantastic character witness, but you’ve got to back me up on the divorce in case Richard gives me a hard time. And keep James away—for good.”
“Fine. What about Rachel?” he asked.
“What about her?” Sabine asked.
“I want her to come for my hearing.”
“I can’t promise that for her.”
“Get her here.”
“I’ll speak with her.”
“Can you not see that you’ve ruined the lives of your entire family?” Mom spoke up again.
“I was trying to do what was right,” Dad said, looking directly at Mom.
“By lying, coercing, cheating, intimidating, and God knows what else? You knew the law, and you broke it at every turn. Did you think you were so far above it that none of it applied?” Mom asked.
Dad glared at her mother.
“Okay, we’re done here,” Sabine said.
Her father rose and turned to go. “Remember what I said. Rachel comes, or you don’t get to stay all cozy in your hidey-hole.” He pointed at her mother. “You’d better watch how you speak to me. Your disrespect will get you nothing.”
He turned on his heel and stalked off.
“So, that’s why I asked you to meet me here. I know you’ll give me your honest opinions, whether I want them or not.”
He stood in front of the five women who’d raised him, beaten him up, and loved him in equal measure his whole life. The Council of the Women, as he silently referred to them. Their reactions to his presentation varied. His mother’s eyes were slightly dewy, as expected. Maeve, his eldest sister appeared to be digesting the information, while Emma looked as if she were ready to punch him in the nose. JoJo, the next in age besides his twin, Cammie, had a soft, sad expression in her eyes. Cammie came over and put her hand in his.
“I’ll start,” Emma said. “First, I don’t think you began this journey of debauchery with bad intentions—”
“How poetic,” Maeve interjected.
Emma held her hand up as if to silence the crowd. “But—and it’s a big ole but, Brother, you’ve not been especially sensitive where the ladies in town have been concerned.”
“How do you mean?” Ben asked.
Emma continued. “It’s all about point of view. Yours. You thought that as long as you were polite about your wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, then nobody got hurt.”
“And they all were so tickled that Ben Laroux gave them some sweet lovin,’ nobody complained,” JoJo said.
“Ouch,” Ben said.
Cammie nodded. “I agree with them. You’re very popular. Everybody wants to see if they can sleep with the rock star. Only, you’re not on tour. You’re a fixture in town, or just outside of town. So, it’s like some competition with the ladies around here. You’ve got a job and all your teeth, rock star. You’re the whole package. And you’ve never given them any reason to think you weren’t available.”
Maeve took the torch and kept going. “You’ve kept them just at arm’s length, haven’t you? But did you ever tell any one of them, besides the married ones, definitively no? Instead, giving them some lame excuse about timing or putting them off? They all still believed they had a shot with you until they saw you with someone else or you just avoided them until they finally got the message.”
Ben’s frown deepened. They were laying out a tale here that was feeling eerily familiar. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“In doing so, it sounds like that’s what happened.” Mom rounded out his guilty verdict.
“So all the ladies have been panting after you all this time in hopes that you’ll come to your senses and choose them,” Cammie said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ben said.
“Maybe that’s exactly how he wants it.” Emma looked over at her sisters.
“No, of course it isn’t.” He tried to defend himself against her statement.
“It’s far easier to be adored than hated. Avoiding conflict is your specialty—always has been, dear brother. You’ve been a charmer your whole life,” JoJo said.
Ben sat down hard on the sofa. They’d chosen to gather in the comfy family room where they assembled on Saturdays to watch
college football—the one with the gigantic TV. It was far less formal than most of the rooms in Evangeline House.
He must be the worst attorney on the planet if he couldn’t come up with some sort of self-defense against these accusations. Or, he was dead wrong, and they had it all correct.
“Cheer up, Brother. It’s nothing we all haven’t known for years, along with everyone else in town. They love you anyway, so there’s that,” Emma said.
“But how can I make it right? Especially this thing with Hailey?”
The women all looked at one another. “That’s another matter. It’s a shame she didn’t tell you.”
“Should I try and speak with her? I feel like I should,” Ben said.
“Do you have some kind of wisdom to offer her? Do you want to make her feel better, or are you trying to make yourself feel better?” Maeve asked.
Ben ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. I feel like I owe her something. She was carrying my child.”
“And she chose not to tell you about the pregnancy or the miscarriage,” Mom said.
“Maybe because she had such a low opinion of me that she thought I wouldn’t care,” he said.
“Clearly, you didn’t care much—about her as a person, or you would’ve felt some connection while you were dating, even if it was casual. That might have been all she needed to know. If she felt like the only reason you might’ve shown her any special consideration is because you slipped up and she got pregnant, well, can you blame her for keeping silent? If I was casually dating a man who I knew had no feelings for me, and I got pregnant, I doubt I would tell him. At least not until I knew the pregnancy was viable or until I knew what my plan was,” Emma said.
“Do you mean if you were going to abort?” Jo Jo’s children were her whole world, so that wouldn’t ever have been an option for her.
“No. I wouldn’t do that. But a single woman with no prospects might. And if she miscarried early, then I can see where she might not tell you at all. What would be the point? Can’t you see that side of it?”
Ben frowned. “I helped create a life. I deserved to know. It wasn’t only hers, even if it wasn’t intended.”