One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  “Hi.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. He had to get a grip. Her voice was so vivid, it sounded like it was in the room.

  The air in the studio shifted, causing him to look up.

  His seat moved underneath him, hands flying out to grip the sides, to stop him from face-planting into the ground.

  “Rachel?” The word came out a croak.

  “Hey, Lucas.” She tried to smile, but the sides of her mouth quivered, causing her cheeks to tremble. Her eyes bounced from his, around the studio, and back to his.

  “What are you doing here?” His words sounded harsh and she flinched, jumping back as though he’d struck her.

  “I mean . . .” he flailed. No more words coming.

  She took a step toward him. “We have a new book.”

  “So I heard.” She was thinner. Her cheekbones more prominent, navy top unable to disguise that underneath it her collarbones stuck out like bridges. He forced his eyes to the floor. She’d broken his heart, and still all he wanted to do was cradle her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

  “It’s been wrapped pretty tight. Tonight is the first time we’re going to talk about it.”

  Talk about it? Use his show as an accomplice to their con? Over his dead body. “You have got to be joking.”

  She twisted her hands like she was wringing wet clothes. “Lucas, I know—”

  “No, you don’t know, Rachel, you have no idea. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing in my studio. You’d be as far away from here as you could possibly get.” He strode to the doorway and flung his arm through it. “Get out. Over my dead body are you using my show to propagate your lies.”

  Her eyes widened, then misted. “It’s not . . . We’re not . . .”

  “What Rachel’s trying to say, Lucas,” Donna said, standing right outside the door, “is that we’re here to tell the truth.”

  • • •

  YOU WOULD have needed a power saw to cut the tension in the studio. Lucas wouldn’t even look at her. They sat less than a couple of feet apart, but they might as well be strangers in a seedy bar on a Tuesday night, each trying to ignore the other’s existence.

  Her bitten-to-the-cuticle fingers drummed on the console as he scanned the cheat sheet Donna and she had prepared. A copy of the book sat propped in front of him, the title screaming out in gold font. And the Truth Shall Set You Free. Huh—so far all the truth had done was give her an ulcer. And almost given Theodore Randolph IV a stroke. Not to mention made lawyers a lot of money as they tried to hash out Randolph’s likelihood of getting sued versus a guaranteed payday. A trickle of sweat ran down Rachel’s back. The studio was stifling, but that wasn’t why. It was the grilling Lucas had served up over the last half hour. It was as though she’d been wheeled into surgery, had her entire body sliced open, and then been left on the operating table for the world to stare at her. Vulnerable. Completely exposed.

  From Donna’s ex-husband to Rachel’s parents. From the blog that started it all, through to how they carried out the deception, including how she’d pretended to be Donna in various publicity interviews. Lucas was determined to leave no stone unturned, no lie left standing, before he turned them over to the hands of their listeners.

  Which wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d looked at her, even just once—anything to indicate that he gave one iota about her. Not that she was doing this for him. Her attempt at comfort fell flat. For him, no; because of him, yes.

  She was an idiot. What did she think was going to happen? That they would show up in the studio with the book and he would take her in his arms and tell her all was forgiven? She couldn’t look at him. It hurt too much to see the complete disinterest in his gaze. So she allowed her eyes to linger on the cover. On both her and Donna’s names. The first and only time that was ever going to happen.

  “Two minutes.” Ethan’s voice rolled over the console. She plucked up her headphones and clamped them over her ears. Donna caught her eye and mouthed, “It’s going to be okay” across the desk. Fine for her to say. She had a husband who adored her waiting back at the hotel, not to mention no expensive care facility bills chewing through her savings at a terrifying rate.

  They’d practiced this. Been drilled by Max and Lacey, who, once they’d realized they were determined to start off their publicity tour with the most hostile interviewer imaginable, had set about trying to spin the story as much in their favor as possible.

  She didn’t care. All she wanted was to be free of this tangled web of lies that suffocated her everywhere she turned. That had cost her the one guy she’d ever loved and smothered her life for years.

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  Lucas still wouldn’t look at her, switching on his microphone as the opening music swelled. The music finished, and for a second, nothing. Was Lucas just going to leave them all hanging? Was he still so revolted by what they had done that he was going to choose a show of dead air rather than have her and Donna on it?

  “Good evening and welcome to Sports with Lucas.” Her shoulders sagged as his voice rolled across the airwaves. “I’m Lucas Grant, and you are not going to believe what we have in store for you tonight. In fact, what we have coming up is so mind-blowing that we won’t be taking any calls for the first hour because we need to create some space for my guests to tell their story.”

  An hour. An hour before all of Wisconsin got on the phone and hurled every piece of abuse they deserved down the line.

  “So without any further delay, let me introduce the two people here in the studio with me. The first, many of you know and love, Donna Somerville.” He left the “Dr.” off at Donna’s request. An undeserved honorary degree bestowed after their first bestseller. It had gone on books only because Randolph had insisted.

  “Good evening, Lucas.” Donna’s voice was calm, modulated.

  “And second, her assistant, Rachel Somers. Who is also a named author for this book.” She winced at his sarcastic use of “named author.”

  “Hi.” Her voice boomed back at her, except it wasn’t. Croaky and high pitched. She swallowed. Or tried to.

  If only she were sitting next to Donna. Donna would squeeze her hand, remind her she wasn’t alone. Instead she had a stone Adonis next to her who radiated about as much warmth as Aspen in December.

  “So, Donna, Rachel, tomorrow your book And the Truth Shall Set You Free releases. There has been a veil of secrecy around this book. So much so that there have been no advance review copies and no PR. In fact, I believe that this may even be the first time the title has been made public, is that right?”

  “That’s right, Lucas,” Donna answered.

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, Lucas, it’s because the truth is that I am a fraud, and since you were one of our many unwitting accomplices, we wanted to start making amends on your show.” Her aunt said the words as if they were as ordinary as ordering a slice of apple pie for dessert.

  Next to Donna, Ethan’s eyes boggled, jaw slack. Good thing he wasn’t expected to be doing any talking. When Max had asked him if they could use Lucas’s show to release their new book he’d jumped at the opportunity, no questions asked.

  “Well, now that you’ve got everyone’s attention, why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  Donna gave Rachel a nod. This was it, her moment. She leaned forward and centered herself on her aunt’s face. You can do this, Rachel; you have to do this. “The truth starts with me.”

  • • •

  LUCAS HAD to give Rachel some credit. She hadn’t held anything back as she’d talked for over an hour.

  The only thing she left out was everything that had happened between them. Though they’d openly admitted that he’d been pulled into the web in the hope that he’d help them come up with a book idea.

  “Why now? When no one knew. Why tell the truth now? Was it just out of desperation to deliver another book so you didn’t have to pay your advance back?” Lucas direct
ed the question to Rachel.

  “I fell in love.” She looked straight at Lucas and he snapped the pencil he was holding in half.

  “I met a wonderful guy and I fell in love. I didn’t want to and I tried not to, but I could help it as much as I could turn the sky green. And then, in my fear, I hurt him deeply. I didn’t want to involve him in my deception, but I couldn’t see any way out when my father’s care depended on the advance from this book. One of my biggest regrets will always be that he got caught up in all of this. That I hurt him deeply.”

  She gambled a glance in his direction, but he couldn’t look at her. Was it real or was it all just spin for the PR machine to try to buy a big dose of public sympathy?

  Being first with the story is everything. That was one of the few things he still remembered from his PR class on crisis management. If you get in front of the story, you have a much better chance of being able to turn it your way. That could be all this was about. And he was aiding and abetting them in doing so. Again.

  “And with that, it’s time to take some calls.” His voice was emotionless.

  Over two hours later, so many calls had descended on their switchboard it caused some sort of network failure. Switching online, Ethan had stopped holding callers there over an hour ago. And every single caller had stayed holding for up to two hours, waiting for their turn to have their say. Now they had time for only a few more.

  “Heidi, you’re on.” He caught his breath. So far, calls had been overwhelmingly supportive. Like Wisconsin had all been boozing at the bar of forgiveness. He didn’t get it. Sure, there had been a few angry callers, but nothing like the whirlwind of hysteria he’d expected to be unleashed. Most just had questions.

  “Hi.” Heidi cleared her throat. “My question is for Donna.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You’ve sold millions of books; you must have made a lot of money. How can you live with making so much money off people who believed in you when it was all a sham?”

  “I can’t.” Donna said the two words as a statement of fact. “I . . .” She paused for a second, took a breath. “In the beginning, I justified it because I used the money to raise my boys. My ex-husband left us with nothing, and it felt like God had provided a way for me to be able to put food on the table and shoes on their feet. But it always bothered me. And so, when the checks started getting bigger, I started a charity.”

  “What kind?” Heidi sounded skeptical. He couldn’t blame her.

  “It’s called Hands of Hope. It’s in New Orleans.”

  No way. Even he’d heard of Hands of Hope. The charity established by a mysterious benefactor a few years after Katrina that had done amazing stuff in poor communities.

  A sound next to Lucas caused him to turn. Rachel was staring at her aunt, eyes bugging. Clearly this was news to her as well. “You’re Hands of Hope?”

  Her aunt looked across at her. “Not just me; Rob, too.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Donna shrugged. “The only people who knew were our lawyers and the director. Oh, and our close friends at the IRS. That’s how we wanted it.”

  He had to get a grip on his show. “Thanks, Heidi; let’s take another call.” He glanced at his call list. “Hello, Olivia.”

  “Hi. My question is for Rachel.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Is there still a chance?”

  “A chance?” Rachel spoke.

  “With the guy you fell in love with. Do you think that maybe now that the truth is out, you could find a way to work it out?”

  It felt like even the walls held their breath, waiting for her answer.

  Rachel breathed out into the mic, a whoosh filling the airwaves. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “But maybe if you explained.”

  Rachel kept her gaze straight ahead. “He knows.”

  “Lucas? You’re a guy, what do you think?” Olivia’s voice held a ray of hope.

  What did he think? He couldn’t. “I think that sometimes, sometimes when something is broken, you have to ask if it’s worth trying to fix it. Especially when it’s trust. Once that’s broken it’s almost impossible to restore.”

  “But if he loved her too, surely it’s worth a try?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know if he loved her; maybe he’s not sure if he ever knew her at all.” It was his voice saying the words, but his heart screamed at him to take them back. To stomp on his hurt just for a second and let hope speak.

  Across the console Donna wore a funeral face, while Ethan glared at him from the producer’s booth. Beside him Rachel sat ramrod straight, face unreadable except for a slight tremble in her lips.

  His cell phone buzzed on the desk next to him. In all the madness, he’d forgotten to turn it off. Scott flashed on the screen. He sent him to voicemail, knowing what his brother was going to be calling to say.

  They had moved on to the last caller without him. His mind couldn’t even focus on what they were saying, words tumbling past him like comets in the night.

  What was he doing? He knew her. Knew the curve of her smile and the way she wrung her hands when she was nervous. The way her laugh tumbled over him like fresh rain and the way she poked her tongue out when she was concentrating. How she fitted perfectly in his arms and made him feel like the world was full of possibilities.

  “ . . . joining us, folks.” Donna had taken over closing the show in view of his stupor. “Thank you for allowing Rachel and me to tell our story. Until tomorrow, this is Sports with Lucas.”

  Ethan cued to the midnight news. Had he just told the woman he loved there were no second chances? On radio?

  He pulled his headphones off. Took a couple of breaths. He just needed a minute to find his bearings. To work out what he really wanted to say. Picking up the copy of the book they’d given him, he flipped it over, stared at her face.

  He opened the front cover. For Woofy. The guy who introduced me to the kind of love I wrote books about waiting for. I’m sorry.

  The words burned into his brain, then his heart. What had he done?

  “Rach—” The words died on his lips; they’d gone. The empty room stared back at him, mocking.

  “They left.” Ethan glared at him from the doorway like he’d just shotgun-married his daughter.

  “They what?”

  Ethan took a step into the room. “What did you expect, Lucas? That she would come here, put herself on the line for you, have you shoot her down, and hang around so that you could pulverize her heart into even smaller pieces?”

  His breath caught. “Where is she?”

  “No idea, and wouldn’t tell you if I did. Who do you think you are? Sure, she made some mistakes. But at least she had a good reason. What about you? Sitting here spewing out relationship advice seemingly under protest but secretly loving it? The woman who is the best thing who ever happened to you shows up and puts everything on the line and you shred her like confetti. Who needs the paparazzi when the great Lucas Grant is all set up as judge and jury? You’re a good guy, Luc, but what happened tonight, I had no idea you had it in you to be so cruel. Not to mention blind.”

  “What do you mean ‘blind’?”

  Ethan huffed out a breath. “Seriously? You love her. You are crazy stupid in love with that woman. And if your pride stops you from seeing that, then you shouldn’t bother coming back tomorrow.”

  A burst of panic sent him flying off his seat. He had to find her, had to fix it. Had to tell her he was wrong, so wrong. If required, he would run every street in Madison until he did.

  • • •

  “YOU SURE you don’t want to come in the Uber?” Donna shook out her umbrella, peering at Rachel with crinkled eyes.

  Rachel shook her head. “It’s fine. The hotel isn’t far and I’ve got Bruno.” She gestured to the brute of a man that Max had hired to watch over them. For a few days, he said, just while public reaction played out.

  Th
e personal protection officer—apparently that was what they were called these days—crossed his arms, muscles rippling through his jacket. No thug in his right mind would take him on.

  She needed to walk. Needed the air. To process the way Lucas couldn’t even look at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Donna pulled her close and kissed her on both cheeks. “It’ll be okay, Rach. Whatever happens next, it will be okay. Maybe he just needs some more time. To process everything.”

  Rachel just shook her head. She wasn’t holding out any more hope for Lucas. She’d known that tonight would be it. Whichever way the chips fell, she would at least know. She could now move on.

  Bruno held open the door for both of them, light rain misting under the streetlights. Donna made a run for her car, which was idling at the curb.

  Rachel pulled her coat close, shoving her hands under her armpits.

  “Umbrella?” Bruno already had one up, holding it over her.

  “No thanks.” The water landing on her face felt good. A much needed shower after four hours of being bathed with Lucas’s loathing. He hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye, staring down at his fingernails like he couldn’t even bring himself to acknowledge her presence.

  How could she have been so stupid? To allow even a small part of her to think that maybe, just maybe, this would fix it. That they would sit in his studio and, as they unfolded the truth, he would catch her eye and, with a tug of his lips, let her know that all was forgiven.

  Her wilder fantasies had involved him sweeping her up in his arms and making some kind of crazy public declaration on air. Like Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore in Music and Lyrics.

  A short, sharp laugh left her lips. Not even her worst-case scenarios had painted him so cold that the Arctic seemed like a summer vacation.

  God, I don’t know how to do this. She directed her prayer to the pavement, where puddles parted beneath her shoes.

  She loved Lucas. After everything, she still loved him. She’d known that the moment she walked into the studio and saw him. But she was going to have to get over him. If you can love the wrong person, imagine how it will feel when you finally love the right person. She’d written that once. Now she was just going to have to take some of the medicine she’d doled out to thousands of other women.