The Magnolia Affair

by T. A. Foster

  “You lied to me about it?”

  “It wasn’t a lie. I just—we had other problems at that time, if you remember. I was trying to protect you from the photos of us being leaked. I don’t know what I said about the ski trip.”

  “I remember, Pax. You told me you were on a break and that the pregnancy was a concocted lie.”

  “Right. I did say that. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses now, but I was worried about you. You needed me, Audrey. We first talked about it the night—”

  “I know what night it was,” I said, cutting him off.

  “Then, you remember I had a lot to deal with. My only intent was to protect you from all of it.”

  “Are you saying it was ok that you tweaked the truth?” I asked. The wine wasn’t enough. I needed more. I filled the glass to the top.

  “We all tweak the truth.” His eyes blazed.

  “Tell me the rest of the story isn’t true.”

  “It’s not true. I swear.”

  The wine worked its magic. I felt loose. Calm. The waves were lulling me. I didn’t want to hold anger in my blood. “All right.”

  “All right? We’re good? That’s it?” His finger ran along my arm. My body reacted quickly to him. It always did.

  “I might be a little angry,” I warned.

  His hand moved to my neck, massaging it down to my shoulder. “That feels good, Pax.” I took another sip of wine. “You’re changing my mind.” My head rolled to the side, catching his eyes.

  There was more. I could see it.

  He inhaled sharply. “I have something else I need to talk to you about.”

  “What’s that?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this, but Hughes’s attorney has found a loophole. The charges against him were dropped this morning.”

  I hadn’t seen the news today.

  “That’s not possible. He did it. There was evidence.”

  “I know. I know. But, without a location on the gun, we always knew it would be a loose case. The attorney filed grievances against the department. It’s a long story, but the case was dropped.”

  “I-I don’t believe it. They can’t do that. I testified in court. I gave the police that flash drive. It was all there.”

  “I know. You did everything right. Everything you could to find justice.”

  “Can’t we appeal?” I didn’t feel as safe as I had five minutes ago.

  “It wasn’t a civil case. It was brought by the state.” He took my hand. “If the judge saw merit in the defense’s findings, we have to let it go.”

  “Let it go? Because of a technicality?”

  “Yes. Put it behind us. Let’s look toward the future we have. The plans we’re making.” Pax sounded as if he had moved on. Spence’s death wasn’t haunting him like it did me. I wondered if someone had killed Sarah if it would have been so easy.

  I stood from the chaise. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  He grabbed my wrist as I walked past him. “You have to.”

  I twisted out of his grip, shaking the circulation back to my arm. “What was that for?” I snapped at him.

  “I’m sorry. I grabbed a little too tightly. You need to let this go. Nothing good can come from going after Hughes. You know that.” Paxton stood, towering over me. “I don’t want you holding on to this.”

  “I know that the man who killed Spence is walking free. If we don’t do something, how can I be sure he won’t come after us again? What if he hurts you this time?” I threw myself at Pax. “Oh, God. Now that you’re running for governor, he’s going to come after you.”

  I felt the ground shifting under me.

  “Shh…shh.” He stroked my hair. “I’m not scared of Hughes anymore. He’s done with politics. His career is over. I’m not fearful, and I don’t want you to be either. We have the best security system on the house. I can hire protection for you if that makes you feel better.” He turned my chin upward. “He won’t hurt you.”

  His words quieted the fear that had suddenly sprung. I had been tossed out to sea again, and Pax had anchored me back to safety.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I’ll always keep you safe, Audrey. Always.”

  It was unnerving walking on the beach while a security guard watched me, but this was how it had to be now. When I was outside the walls of our house, I had someone from the security company with me. I told Pax it made me feel safer, and it did.

  Since the judge threw the Hughes case out of court, I hadn’t slept through the night. I had nightmares. Dreams where I would see Spence get in his car and he would drive straight for me, revving the engine. I’d scream and tell him to stop¸ but he’d drive anyway. My feet planted on the yellow stripes of the asphalt, unable to move, and then I’d look down, and my knees were covered in mud. Tranter’s Creek was behind me and the car had turned from the road. Spence was there. I’d try to warn him, and every time I woke up right before the car hit the tree.

  I had that same dream again last night. I awoke with coldness crawling over my skin. My heart beating hard against my chest. I reached for Pax, but he wasn’t there. Our king-sized bed was empty.

  I found him in the office scribbling out notes for a speech.

  “Are you coming back to bed?” I wanted him to pick me up and carry me across the hall where our room was.

  “In a little while. I couldn’t sleep. I thought about the farm reform that the House just proposed, and I think I have a way to make it work for both parties.” He made two columns on his sheet of paper.

  “That’s great. What about in the morning? Can’t it wait?”

  “I have that breakfast to talk about super pac funding. I’ll be out of here by seven. There’s no time. Man, I wish I could just work twenty-four-seven. Sleep is getting in the way of everything I need to do.”

  “Oh,” I said quietly. “Ok. I’ll just try to go back to sleep.” Telling him about the dream now seemed out of place.

  “Wait, what is it?” He dropped the pen. “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I was only checking on you.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.” I closed the door behind me.

  That was my husband. He was a workaholic. Could I blame him? He was running for governor and still had a job as a state senator. He had obligations that were planned months in advance. Free time was limited. Alone time had become difficult to find.

  I crouched in the surf and retrieved a piece of beach glass. I felt the smooth green edges against my fingers, and jerked when I felt a jagged point snag across my thumb. The blood ran into palm.

  “Ouch.” I hurled the glass back in the surf, gritting my teeth. I never saw the sharp edge jutting out from the rest. It had felt so smooth.

  I charged past the man standing by the boardwalk. “Do you need something, Mrs. Tanner?”

  “No.” I shrugged him off. “Just a Band-Aid. It’s a little cut, that’s all.”

  “I can get something for you,” he offered.

  “No. I said I’ve got it.” I jogged up the stairs to the deck. I would apologize later.

  I bandaged my thumb and refilled my coffee cup in the kitchen. The man was posted outside the door.

  I picked up my phone and noticed I had missed a few calls. I listened to the messages while I stirred creamer into my mug. I was waiting for Pax to call me about the super pac’s contribution totals.

  The campaign was pleased with fundraising figures so far, but they wanted to get ahead. It was better to have more in reserve than they needed rather than scramble near the end of the campaign to drum up support. I thought of all the things those millions could be used for instead of commercials, billboards, and newspaper ads, but this was the game I was in now.

  There was a call from my doctor’s office confirming my appointment tomorrow. I hit delete. Then I heard it. A woman’s voice. She was talking quickly.

  “This is Becky Hof—just Becky. Lyla Voight gave
me your number. Please call me. I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”

  I stared at my phone. She didn’t sound like a reporter. She sounded nervous and rushed. There’s a saying about curiosity. I dialed the number and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Audrey Tanner.” It still felt strange to use another last name. “Is this Becky?”

  “I didn’t think you’d call.” Her voice was quiet.

  “All right. You said you know Lyla Voight.” I waited.

  “I do. Can we meet? I know you don’t know me, but…”

  “I—uh—my schedule is pretty booked. What do you need help with? Is it an interview?”

  “I’m the one who gave Lyla that photo of your husband.”

  I treaded lightly. “And how did you wind up with that picture?”

  “Because I’m the girl who’s in it.”

  “You’re the girl?” I asked.

  “Yes. Can we please meet?”

  “All right. When?”

  “How about now? Can you come alone?”

  The security detail was posted outside the door. I could take him with me like I always did or ditch him. There was a coffee shop at the entrance of the development. If I took my bike, I could be there in five minutes.

  “Do you know where Jitter Jive is?” I already had my bag on my shoulder.

  “I do. I’ll see you there.” She hung up.

  I was getting ready to do something I said I would never do. Doubt Pax. It was useless if I tried to convince myself I was going for coffee on his behalf. That I just wanted to be able to warn him about this woman. The pictures she might have. The evidence she had been compiling for years.

  I was going so I could search for the truth on my own. Without him trying to protect me or steer me in another direction. I wanted to know if there was more to his past that he was too afraid to tell me.

  I parked my bike in front of the window painted with coffee mugs and walked inside. I ordered a latte and sat in the corner, near the back.

  Every time the bell over the door jingled, I jumped. It was silly, really. I waited for the latte to cool and my appointment to arrive.

  I was ready to give up, and admit I had been part of a prank or a sleazy tabloid scheme, when a woman walked in.

  She was short. Her hair tousled and layered in thin waves. She may have been thirteen years older, but I recognized her as the ski bunny from the photo Lyla exposed. A soft brown sweater hung loosely from her shoulders.

  “Mrs. Tanner.” She slid into the seat across from me. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t want any. I think I’m too nervous to drink anything.”

  “Don’t be nervous.” I didn’t think my words soothed her.

  “Lyla told me you didn’t want to comment on the picture.”

  “That’s right. I don’t see how any good can come from picking through my husband’s past. We’ve all done things we regret. Right? I definitely did things in college I’d rather not have splashed in the papers.” I tried to appeal to her woman to woman.

  “Not like this.”

  “I don’t think I understand. So what if you hooked up on vacation? I don’t think that’s a crime.”

  She glanced around the coffee shop. The barista was busy lining up mugs for a large order. Becky whispered in my ear.

  “Because it wasn’t just a hook up. He was going to leave Sarah for me.”

  I pulled back slightly. I didn’t like how it felt her breathing across my skin. “You’re suggesting Paxton had a relationship with you?”

  She nodded. “He did. We did.”

  It wasn’t the devastating atomic bomb I was expecting. “All right. Thanks for letting me know, I guess.” I wondered if I could have my latte poured into a to-go cup.

  She put a hand on my shoulder. “I wasn’t finished.”

  I sat down. “I’m sorry. What else is there?”

  “I’m sure Lyla mentioned something to you about how I was pregnant.”

  “She did. I’ve heard this before. Are you going to tell me that he made you have an abortion, because I can’t believe that. Pax isn’t that kind of man.”

  She shook her head. “No. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after the ski weekend. I called Paxton and told him. We had been talking and emailing the entire time since he left. It was kind of a love-at-first-sight thing. Anyway, he said that was all he needed to hear. He would leave Sarah and help me raise the baby.”

  I nodded along as her words flowed, stringing together a story that didn’t seem real.

  “But, before he talked to Sarah, he told his father.”

  “Mr. Tanner knew?”

  “Yes. And he was furious. Told Paxton he had ruined his political future and that I would do nothing for his career but bring him shame. He forbade him to leave Sarah.”

  “Forbade? What happened?”

  “I did something horrible. Something so awful I’ve lived with it every day, hating myself. I took Aldredge Tanner’s money.”

  “My father-in-law gave you money?”

  She nodded. “He told me to tell Paxton I lost the baby and that I was moving to Europe to find myself or whatever crazy story I could come up with. He gave me a million dollars to pay for any medical expenses I needed to take care of the pregnancy and then set up a new life for myself in France.”

  “So you did end the pregnancy.” I kept my voice low, but the words sounded loud and forceful.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “I took the money and I did go to a clinic. I had every intention of going through with it. I mean, what was I going to do at twenty-two with a baby and no father to help me raise it? I don’t have any family. But I backed out as soon as they put me in a room. I couldn’t do it.”

  “But you never told Paxton? Not a phone call? Nothing?”

  “No. I moved to France. I had the baby and he never knew. He thinks I miscarried.”

  I forced myself not to judge her. I wasn’t supposed to judge. But I tried to think of what kind of woman made the choices that Becky had.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I searched her eyes for information. “Money? Is that what you need? More money?”

  “No. No. I’d never ask for money from you.”

  “Then what is it? I don’t know why after all this time you would come clean. At least to me. Why not Paxton?”

  “Because if he finds out, he’ll tell his dad and then what I need you to do for me will never happen.”

  “And what is that? What could I possibly do?”

  She closed her eyes, and for a second, I thought she was going to hold the secret in. “I have cancer. I need you to raise my daughter.”

  I rode home on my bike, although I didn’t see any of the houses or the cars on the street. There was a way to digest the information I had been given, but I wasn’t sure I had the skills to do it.

  The fact that Pax had lied to me again seemed less important than the lies his father and Becky had participated in. Theirs were detrimental.

  How was I going to tell him he had a twelve-year-old daughter?

  Security met me at the door. “Ma’am, I didn’t realize you went out.”

  “It was to meet a friend. I’m sorry. I should have told you.” I closed the door, leaving him on the front steps to scowl and shake his head at me.

  I poured a glass of wine then dumped it down the drain. I needed to be clear. If I was going to convince Pax that we take in a daughter he never knew existed, I had to have a plan for him. Something that would ease his fears and answer questions to all the political roadblocks that existed. The problem was, I was a teacher, not a legal strategist.

  I sat at his desk and flipped over the next page on his notepad. This was where he brainstormed. I had watched him make lists and full-proof proposals. He won over CEOs of the most influential companies with his speeches. He convinced voters to change their votes. I sank i
nto the leather and closed my eyes.

  She said it started in her right ovary then spread to the left. At first, the doctors assured her they had caught it early enough. There was time to fight. Time to attack the disease that had invaded her body. But they were wrong. Becky told me there was a history of breast cancer in her family, but she always thought she’d be the generation it skipped. Her mother and aunt were both struck early by the disease. She never knew her father. There was no one left. No family members that could take her daughter.

  After a year of her diagnosis, she started to face her mortality. She needed a plan. Lyla Voight was her college roommate. Despite the distance, they had kept in touch. Lyla was the only one who knew about the baby.

  I was skeptical at first, but after a second latte, I believed Becky when she told me Lyla never intended to write about the ski trip pictures. She had one purpose during that interview and that was to scout me out. If Lyla thought I could be a mom, provide a good life for Becky’s daughter, then she would reach out to me. I never asked what the plan was if I failed the maternal assessment.

  I told her I’d call. Told her I needed time to talk to Pax. She reminded me she didn’t have much of that left.

  I was going to make dinner and give him the whole story. I would lay it out in front of him in a diagram, layering the reasons we should take her in on top of each other. But the instant he walked through the door, I abandoned it. The only thing that mattered was the truth.

  “Pax, I have to talk to you.”

  “Hey, to you too.” He loosened his tie. “I really need a shower. Farm reform isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. How about I meet you on the deck with that new bottle of red?”

  “I-I wanted…sure. That sounds good.” I smiled.

  “Care to join me?”

  “I’ll get the wine. See you in a few minutes.”

  “I guess so.” He looked disappointed and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  The wind had calmed and the beachcombers were sifting through the surf, looking for ocean trinkets. I wondered if their lives were as complicated as ours. Not likely, I thought as I waited for my husband to join me.