The Magnolia Affair

by T. A. Foster

  “Yeah, I would never guess.”

  We wandered through the halls, going from the drawing room to the library.

  “Before I forget, I have something for you.” She dug into her pocket.

  “What’s this?” I looked at the flash drive she held up.

  “I don’t know. Someone gave it to me to pass on to you.” She shrugged.

  “Who?” I held out my palm.

  “Some guy. He said to give it to you.”

  “And you took it?” I asked, surprised she would willingly take something from a stranger. Pax had been right to worry about her judgment.

  “I was on a coffee break in the cafeteria. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I told him I’d pass it on.”

  “Did he tell you what’s on it?”

  “No, I didn’t ask.”

  “Avery, you’ve got to be more careful than that. He could be some psycho.”

  She put her hands on her hips like a disgruntled teenager. “Being first lady has made you paranoid. What? You think there’s some secret spy file on there?”

  “No, of course not.” I didn’t know what was on the drive, but it made me uncomfortable. Someone had approached my sister with this. People knew who she was and where she worked.

  “Throw it in the trash if you want. I don’t care.” She continued along the marble floor. “Wow, this dining room is really blue.”

  I tried to plaster on my tour guide smile. “Yes, it’s the state dining room.”

  I shoved the drive in my pocket. All it did was distract me. The lump it made against my jeans reminded me all day that people were watching. Maybe a complete lunatic had written a fan letter. I had overindulged my runaway imagination; it was likely someone trying to make persuasive argument about how I should get involved in a charity. Voters were creative about presenting their causes.

  I joked with Pax about how we should open the house to citizens on certain days and listen to their petitions. True, I had been watching a lot of The Tudors, but there was some merit in how monarchies used to take the voices of their subjects into consideration.

  Otherwise, I ended up in a situation like this. A random concerned constituent had targeted my sister, thinking there was no other way I was reachable.

  I patted my pocket on our walk through the gardens. I should throw the drive in one of the fountains. Let it sink to the bottom under a layer of pennies. Forget about it. Chalk it up to my sister’s bad judgment. Maybe I could get Todd to talk to her about her social media posts and how to handle strangers butting in to political affairs.

  But when she finally went to bed and the house was quiet, I tiptoed to the office, fired up the computer, and stuck it in an open port.

  I stared at the screen. I clicked on each of the files until every one of them had been opened. It had to be a sick prank. They were distorted and altered. They had to be. I scanned through them until I had lost count of how many times I had seen them. I grabbed the flash drive and hurled it across the room. I couldn’t think straight. I ran to the bathroom and retched over the toilet. I clung to it, my body attacked by violent shakes. I sat back on my heels, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand. My tongue felt numb. I heard the blood pumping through my body like the bass in a loud car.

  I pulled myself up, my fingers clawing at the edge of the counter. I met my reflection in the mirror. Wreckage. I was nothing but the remains of a person covered in pink skin. The air in my lungs foolishly breathing life into a shell. I placed a hand over my stomach, cupping the smooth roundness that was beginning to protrude. God, what had I done?

  Breakfast was the usual. Bacon and eggs with toast on the side. The staff chef knew our preferences after only a few weeks at the residence. It was hard to get used to having people on hand to cook for us, or drive us where we needed to go.

  “Is Paxton supposed to be home tonight?” Avery asked. I waited for her to mention that she heard me last night, but if she did, she kept it to herself. I could say morning sickness had struck with a vengeance at night.

  “Yes. He’ll be driving back after the conference.”

  “Can you imagine how boring that must be? An entire convention of governors.” She giggled.

  “He takes his role very seriously.” I buttered my toast.

  “I know he does. I’m just kidding with you.” She refilled her coffee mug. “Even after being here a night, it’s so hard to believe this is your life. You’re actually married to the governor.” She shook her head. “It’s a little bit like a movie.”

  “It does seem like a movie.”

  “You’re happy here, aren’t you?”

  “Why?”

  “I know I was angry with you for a long time—”

  I interrupted her. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I think we should. You made it through a horrible time. And I couldn’t see it then, but Paxton helped you. I don’t think you would have survived without him. I was just upset about what you had done.”

  “And you’re not upset about it anymore? You think what I did was ok?”

  She laid her fork down. “I think I understand it now.”

  I pressed my lips together. “What changed?”

  “I met someone.”

  A hard pit formed in my stomach. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re telling me.”

  “What? It worked out for you.” I could see she was trying to repress a smile, but she was struggling to hide her happiness.

  “My husband died, Avery. That’s not things working out.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I-I— Shit. I totally screwed this up. I’m just trying to say that you and Paxton made things work. You found each other in an unconventional way and now you have this amazing life. Things do work out.”

  “If you are having an affair with a married man, you need to stop it now.” I glared at her.

  “Are you judging me?” My blazing look didn’t intimidate her.

  “Just end it.”

  “It sounds like you are saying you can do whatever in the hell you want and I can’t. You don’t even know our situation.”

  “I don’t need to know it. It’s wrong. You’re better than this. You can find someone who isn’t already taken.”

  “That’s what you think. You don’t know because you’ve never had to work to find a guy. They fall at your feet and I’ve never figured out why. Spencer would have done anything you ever wanted. Now you’ve got that all over again. Why can’t you let me have the same thing?”

  “A married man can’t give you that.”

  “You don’t know him. You don’t know us. You’re always trying to make my life less important than yours. What makes you want me to be miserable?”

  “Oh my God, I would never want you to be miserable. That’s crazy.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “Is he a doctor?”

  “Yes, and he’s going to leave his wife. And then you’ll see that I can have an amazing marriage too.” She stood from the table. “I think I’m going to leave early.”

  I followed her upstairs to the guest room. “Avery, stop being so fucking stubborn. Listen to me for once. If you never do anything else I ever say, fine. Don’t. But this one thing. End it.”

  She threw her toothbrush in a bag and tossed it into her suitcase. “I’m not really sure why I thought you’d get it. Clearly, you’re so self-absorbed in your perfect first lady life to remember how you got here. You’re not better than me, Audrey.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I saw your reaction when I told you.”

  “It’s not like that. I’m trying to protect you. Keep you from getting hurt.” I shadowed her movements while she hurled the rest of her clothes in her bag.

  “Because being married to an amazing man and having his baby is something I don’t deserve? You’re unbelievable.” She zipped the suitcase.

  “Don’t leave like this. Talk to me.”


  “Why? You’re just going to tell me the same things over and over.”

  I watched her walk down the hall and storm past the staffer who was placing fresh flowers on the table. I could have run after her. Tried to persuade her to stay another night. Work things out like sisters should. But I let her go. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t even save myself.

  That night I sat on the edge of her bed. She wasn’t a little girl, but she was still a child. She looked small in the monstrous bed. I hadn’t been able to give it the same delicate touch as her room at the beach house. Everything about the mansion felt formal and distant.

  I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Good night. Sweet dreams.” I swallowed hard. I would never dream again. All I could see were the files. I closed my eyes. They were more vivid.

  “Is Dad coming back tonight?”

  My stomach lurched. “Yes, he’s on his way back right now.” I turned off the lamp. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Audrey? Wait. Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course. What’s going on?” I sat back on the bed.

  “Do you think my mom knows what I’m doing?”

  I brushed the hair off her forehead. “What do you mean, honey?”

  “Like, can she see me?”

  “I guess so. I’m sure she can.”

  “I hope so. It makes me feel better. Because then she won’t be so sad. If she knows I’m here with you, then maybe she’s happy too.”

  I didn’t know what I believed anymore. “Wherever she is, she’s happy when you’re happy. That I know.”

  “She told me you’d take care of me.”

  My heart hurt. “Of course I’ll take care of you. I promised your mom and I meant every word.”

  “She told me you’re a good person. You’re a good mom for someone who’s never been a mom.”

  “I’m trying.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “I’ve been thinking of names for you.”

  “Names?”

  She smiled. It had started happening more often. Her melancholy eyes would spark from time to time, and I knew she was finding bits of happiness in this new life we had given her.

  “Yes, for the baby. I mostly know French names, but it could be cool if my little brother or sister had a French name like me too. Want to hear some?”

  I nodded in silence. This sweet innocent child whose life had been filled with devastating grief was clinging to the hope of my baby. I sat while she recited her list.

  “There was a girl named Josette and I didn’t really like her, but it’s a pretty name for a girl and maybe Jacques for a boy or does that sound weird? It’s not weird in France.”

  I listened as she told me all the names of the students in her school. I had never been to France. I always wanted to go. Maybe a French name would be the perfect choice. I tried to imagine what this child would want. This baby Pax and I had created. What would it want?

  I started to wander. Along the corridor. I circled our bedroom. I walked down the stairs. In a fog, I ended up in the garden. I sat, unable to stop the images from haunting me.

  The blood was everywhere. Splattered across his face, running down his neck. Soaking into his expensive suit. I looked at my palms, knowing it was there too. But in the dark, it was hard to see. It was there I told myself. I was coated in his blood.

  “Audrey, what are you doing out here? I’ve walked all over the property looking for you.” Paxton’s shoes crunched over fallen magnolia leaves. “It’s freezing. Come inside with me. I want to tell you about the conference. I need your take on the alliance we’re proposing for the coastal states. I think you’re going to be excited about it. It has your liberal vibe all over it.”

  The air numbed my face. I must have been in the garden for hours. Sitting. Waiting. Planning.

  “Audrey?”

  “I know, Pax.”

  “Want to elaborate?” He sat next to me on the concrete bench and put an arm around my shoulder, kissing my cheek. “I wish you had been with me. Some of the other spouses were there. But I’m glad Avery drove up. You two need some time together.”

  I didn’t move. My muscles clenched with paralysis.

  “What’s going on with you? Is it the baby? You feeling ok? What happened with Avery? I thought she would still be here.”

  “She left.”

  “Oh, ok. That was a quick trip. I checked in on Corinne. She’s already asleep. I don’t want to leave you out here, but I’m ready for a nightcap and I was hoping to go to bed a little early. I really missed you.” He squeezed my thigh. “Let me take you to bed.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  He jumped. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I know. I know everything. All of it. Spence. I know what you did to him.”

  “I didn’t do anything to Spence. What is going on?” He moved on the bench so he could see my face.

  I didn’t back down. “I’ve gone over it so many times. I convinced myself two years ago there was no way. It wasn’t possible. You would never do anything to hurt me. It wasn’t even conceivable you would be capable. But I knew. God, I’ve known. I just didn’t want it to be true.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “You killed Spence.” An acrid taste filled my mouth.

  “Whoa. That came out of nowhere. Who is feeding you this?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? Just tell me. Look me in the eye and admit it.”

  He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “Admit what?”

  “There are pictures. I saw them. All the blood. How he was slumped over the steering wheel. You were there at the crash site, making sure he was dead. I saw you standing next to him.”

  “We’re not going down that road again. Is this the Hughes shit coming back up? Or was it a reporter? You’ve been trained to spot these things. I thought you had the hang of it by now. Come on.”

  I balled my fists in my lap; it slowed the shaking. “That night. I woke up and you weren’t there. You weren’t there, Pax!”

  “You’re saying that I left you in bed and drove out to Tranter’s Creek and killed Spencer?”

  “I know you did. I know it with every fiber in my body.”

  “I don’t see how you can remember anything from when Spence died. You were completely out of it. You drank bottles of wine, and took sleeping pills. You barely ate. The only reason you’re alive is because I took care of you.”

  “And that’s what you wanted. You wanted me to need you, to be completely dependent on you. And I was.”

  “That’s not fair. I was in love with you. I hated seeing you hurt like that. I took care of you because I wanted you to live again.”

  “You seduced me back to you. I couldn’t see it then, but I see every move you made now. You planned it. You plotted it. You executed it perfectly.”

  It was clear. Two years of clarity ripped through me. “You planned that entire night. The reason you took me to the upstairs guestroom was so I wouldn’t hear you leave the house. And that expensive wine you gave me made me sleep heavier than I ever had. You didn’t want me to wake up and find you gone.” I forced myself to relive it. “And all the security. What a fucking expensive waste of money! All of it was just a show so that I would think I was in danger. I lived in fear of my life because of you.”

  “I think I need to take you inside, get you in bed. Maybe get you something to eat. I’ve heard pregnancy hormones make women emotional, but I wasn’t really prepared for this. I’ll help you through it.” He slid an arm around my waist, trying to hoist me to my feet. “All right, let’s go.”

  I growled at him. “I said don’t touch me. I’m calling the police. I’m telling them everything.”

  He let go.

  “Think about what you’re saying, Audrey.” He was calm, his words smooth and clear.

  “I have thought about it. It’s all I can think about. The images are burned in my eyes. You killed him because you were jealous? Or becaus
e you needed me to be free? Why? Tell me why.”

  “I would never hurt you. We’ve talked about this. You asked me all these questions back then, and I answered them.”

  “I’m turning over the pictures I have. I’m telling them you killed my husband.”

  “This is ludicrous. Let me get you inside.”

  “You killed Spence.” If I said it enough times, he would have to hear it.

  “I think you’re forgetting that you helped me.”

  “I didn’t help you. What are you talking about?”

  “You planted evidence. Remember that?”

  “Evidence you told me proved Hughes had Spence killed.”

  “Evidence you wanted. Evidence you needed.”

  “Only because you told me it was the truth. Justice—that’s what you said was on that flash drive.”

  “It was justice. Hughes was a criminal.”

  I shook my head. “But he wasn’t a murderer.”

  “Think about it. That’s not all you did. You testified in court. You perjured yourself. Are you willing to go to prison? Is that where you want to deliver our baby? In a prison hospital.”

  I clutched at my stomach. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “And what about Corinne? Have you thought about her? You’re ok destroying her life? We’re all she has. She thinks of you as her mother now. You put me in jail and you go too, then what? She goes to a children’s home? Our baby will end up there with her too, I guess.”

  “Stop it. Stop! You’re lying again.”

  “Am I? Think about it. You planted evidence in a murder investigation. The murder of your husband to help your lover send the police on a different path. You think they’ll believe you weren’t involved? Of course you were. You knew. You helped me plan it. You called Spencer and told him you were going to leave him. That’s why he was driving back in the middle of the night. He was frantic to get home to talk you out of it. Then when you knew he was headed back to Charleston, you told me the route. You told me exactly where I could drive to find him, what his car looked like. We planned it together. Trying to pin it on Hughes, spinning it so that we both looked like victims. You the grieving widow. Me, the man with a vision trying to be undermined by old politics.”