“How about we all have a late lunch and then regroup?” he suggested.
Hilary’s growling stomach was enough of an answer. She’d never had breakfast earlier, and not bothered with anything but coffee on her flight.
“That’s a good idea.”
It turned out Frances had more questions. Hilary appreciated that Marc had brought her here. She wished they wouldn’t have to explain the workings of dirty politics to her, but if they couldn’t avoid it, at least it would be on their terms. Frances knew how much of a privileged life she led. She was eager to understand what they were doing, and why, and there was no better place to demonstrate it to her than Greene headquarters where everyone was busy preparing the first big move.
“When people tell stupid lies like that, can’t you sue them?”
“Oh, we wish,” Hilary said. “First though, the police have to find out who did this, and prove it. Without that, we can’t sue anyone.”
Frances sighed over her burger and fries. There were some situations that required basic comfort food. “People suck,” she said.
“Not all of them,” Marc reminded her, though the rueful smile he shared with Hilary said “Many do.” After all, they still had to go on the air with the ex-wife of the man who’d taken a gun to work and cause terror in this place where all of them should be safe. Of course it wasn’t her fault, but it would bring up memories nonetheless.
“My friends are all awesome, but there are some jerks in school too. They’re talking racist bullshit and say it’s their right to do so. Well if that’s true, something needs to change.”
“Some say these things because they are scared and ignorant. When you know you are right, you never need to call anyone names or cheat and lie,” Hilary said. It wasn’t always easy to stick to those principles, because what she really wanted to do was to ask Frances for names and give the parents and the “jerks” themselves hell, but they had other, bigger things on their mind than pointless disputes.
“Kaylee’s mom says you’re doing something brave, and that they might want to be a part of it. They might send Kaylee to school there, but regardless…we can see each other all the time. I don’t really want to stay here when you go.”
“That’s great.” Hilary meant all of it. The upcoming changes weren’t easy for Frances. Her coming around meant everything. To Marc, she said, “I know the interview is coming up, but we should really concentrate all forces on getting the move going. There’s housing ready, offices, schools. Universities are interested in partnering with us.”
“The first wave, right?”
That’s what it had been called in the paper. The past few weeks had left her feeling tired and anxious—Hilary was grateful for the excitement returning, slowly, but steadily.
“I know we’re both kind of dreading that interview, but I’ve thought about it…how about we use it to our advantage? Clare Williams is innocent in all of this, but that’s not the point. We have some prime time airtime to give some numbers, about how many have signed up, what has been done already, and the vision. Let’s make it big,” Marc suggested.
“I’m all right with that.”
“We don’t have to call anyone names, but we can still show them for what they are.”
A hesitant knock on the door preceded Aimee into the room. For a moment, there was an awkward silence, before she said, “Mrs. Greene, can I talk to you for a minute?”
It was hard not to think of those pictures, and remind herself that the slight feeling of resentment was exactly what their adversaries where playing at. Hilary got to her feet. She wouldn’t be fooled. “Of course. Let’s go to my office.”
“I don’t understand this!” Aimee said once they had closed the office door behind them, her eyes glistened with angry tears. “I mean I understand, because they are the worst lowlife you can think of, fuckers, which I didn’t want to say in front of your daughter—”
“I appreciate that,” Hilary said dryly, and despite themselves, they had to laugh.
“Mrs. Greene, you must know that I would never—”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. And I know this is an odd moment to bring this up, but it’s Hilary.”
“Thanks.” Aimee took a deep breath. “Everyone knows these photos are doctored. Melodie Timmons talked about it, and it’s only Miller’s folks who are jumping on another possible conspiracy theory with glee. Actually, I am in a relationship, have been for the past five years. I had a husband who accused me of cheating every day, when it was just his paranoia. He said he’d kill me if he ever found out who it was. There was no one, but I still lived in fear every day. I moved on from that, or at least I thought I did, but this brings up everything. They do it so casually, self-righteous and entitled, thinking they can decide everything for us, better than we can. God, I hate Miller so much. He might not be personally responsible, but he is in some way. I don’t know if you heard it? He was on TV, sounding off about morals. The kind of morals people like him have are those of cavemen. No wonder they don’t believe in evolution when they have never evolved themselves.”
“I understand,” Hilary said, because she did. She had waited so long to share some secrets she was wondering if the right moment would ever come, even though she was certain Marc wouldn’t judge her. He had never done so before, never asked for details she wasn’t ready to give. Those who would didn’t count. Still, she hesitated. “We might have to move on from this too. It will be hard to prove Miller was involved.”
“What if we could? What if we can put some numbers to all the harm he’s been doing?” Aimee gave her an intent look. “Would that be grounds for a recall election?” She shook her head. “Listen to me. We all work sixteen-and-more hour days to get Exodus going. We don’t have time for this. I’m sorry for ranting on you.”
“Don’t be. All we need is…more coffee, for starters, but I like that idea. I’ll run it past Marc. We have to run the first wave—” She liked that term. It reminded her of the passion of her college days, something that was often lost in long workdays and the sobering realization of how little difference they could make in the world. They still had that passion and they would make it work for them. “There are people who have pledged their support, in- and outside of the company, but don’t want to leave. I think there’s time for collecting a few signatures.”
“I’ll look into the requirements,” Aimee said.
“You do that. I’ll be in mine or Marc’s office.”
* * * *
“I remember Adam Greene being extremely concerned about the direction his daughter and son-in-law were taking the company. I can tell you he would be ashamed.” Chad Miller shook his head, the close-up showing the sorrowful look on his face. “We might be harassed for our beliefs, but ultimately, we know we are right. There’s a danger when businesses want to dictate our policies.”
Marc snorted. “You don’t say.”
“Time and again, Greene Industries has shown alarming attempts to curb religious freedom and First Amendment rights for their employees and business partners. Their own morals, if you can call it that—we’ve seen they are questionable at best. The problem will spread, not just here or in California, but throughout the country, if we don’t put a stop to it.”
“Just try,” Hilary told the man on TV, before she turned off the set. “I should check in with Kerry too, see how she’s doing with LeBlanc.”
“That’s a curious story,” Marc agreed. “What’s your take? Do you think she jumped ship for real?”
“Well, she did fill out the form and applied for emergency housing. I think she’s tired of being beaten up—but everything else, I don’t know.”
“We want to help people in the first place, but if she’s really willing to make a U-turn, that could be helpful.”
“I know.” Hilary surveyed the sight in front of her, the venti coffee cups, the many files and calls and appointments that were waiting for them. They were at a turning point, no doubt. This was
happening, whether Miller or anyone else liked it or not.
“Marc. I need to tell you something.”
“Sure.” He sat across from her. Frances had left earlier for a study group.
“Exodus is to make some things right that have gone horribly wrong for women in this state, mostly, but it’s supposed to have an educational aspect as well. If we help women, we help the world, the economy, and the environment.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Yes, but of course most of us have some…personal interest. We always say, politics start with the personal space. I have a personal interest in this working out.” God, how much longer could she tap dance around the subject? “I’m not afraid that you will hate me when you find out. In fact, I have no idea why I was waiting for so long, but I guess…I was ashamed. Even though I know better, now.”
“Sit down, please.” Marc reached out to take her hands when she did, his eyes never leaving hers. “I guess I also have a longtime confession coming.”
“Growing up is such a messed up thing, and I hope to God we’re doing right by Frances. I know nothing was ever my fault, and I wasn’t ready for a relationship, and he should have known that, but still—”
“Hilary, please. Don’t torture yourself. I know. I knew before I married you, and you’re right, none of this was ever your fault. I should have told you too, but I didn’t want to bring up the subject when you weren’t ready.”
“Oh God.” Barely able to get a grip on her emotions raging inside, she leaned into him. Marc held her close.
“It’s true that everyone has a personal interest. I told you about the way Grandpa Adam treated my mom, and my sister. I promised myself I’d never be like that, but yet, no one dared to challenge him. We all quietly accepted this was the way it was, the way he was. There are some things I never told you, because I was ashamed too, because these things were happening in my family. When I fell in love with you, everything changed. He was, of course, rigid in his ways, and racist to the bone.”
“I still don’t understand how you—” She didn’t even know how to phrase her question.
“That’s where my secret comes in. Well, it’s no longer a secret. When I told him I was going to marry you regardless of what he thought, he hired a PI. One day, he called me into his study and threw the report at me. I mean, literally.”
Marc pulled back, regret in his expression. “I wish I could have told you I never read it, but I did. None of what I found did change anything for me. I felt for you, everything you had to go through, but I also thought I couldn’t tell you, because I was afraid. Of course, the report only told the bare bones, but between it and my grandfather’s judgmental ranting, I could still piece the real story together.”
“I was lucky I had the support of my parents to go either way. We talked about it from every angle, and I know I did the right thing. No woman deserves to be shamed for this.”
“It’s ironic,” Marc said. “I knew I was invading your privacy, and that it wasn’t right, but that PI’s report made me understand how little most of them get about the lives of the people they judge, every day. They don’t ever check their privilege. I burned the report, and I never visited him again. He scratched me out of his testament, but I guess…what goes around, comes around. Funny that Miller remembers him so fondly.”
“If your grandfather could dig up the story, so could he, and we all know how he and his people like to put their own spin on it. Maybe we’re the ones who should go public first.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” Hilary admitted. “Then again, can it get worse? We said we’d be on the offensive and that means we won’t wait until they come up with the next thing. Which reminds me—I have Aimee looking into the procedures of a recall as we speak. It was her idea. I think it’s a good one.”
Marc nodded, but she could tell her wasn’t entirely assured.
“Are we okay?” he asked, and Hilary took a moment to honestly consider that question. In the end, Marc had been able to defy the legacy of his grandfather. Along the way, not all of their decisions had been smart or rational, but they were still in it together, more than ever.
“Look at us. We have a wonderful child. We rent a private jet whenever we need to, and when we take a break from changing the world, we can go to some remote place with beach access and palm trees. I love you, Marc. Yes, I would say we are okay.”
“I love you too,” Marc said. “I know we can’t make it an early night, but when we go home—”
An apologetic Aimee interrupted the private moment to come and discuss the procedures of a recall, but Hilary had understood. She was looking forward to going home.
* * * *
“What are you, a lesbian? A fucking traitor.”
“Hey! That’s enough,” Kerry interrupted Annette LeBlanc’s husband.
Annette kept her head down as she went about packing more of her belongings. Despite all the resources that Exodus could give her, she had refused to press charges against her husband. All she’d wanted was to come back to pick up some clothes and files.
Kerry was frustrated. It wasn’t like any of them was in danger at this moment. Barry LeBlanc wasn’t impressed with a female detective, much less so since the press had already detailed she was, indeed, a lesbian. However, they had brought some helpers to assist with the move, and there was only so far LeBlanc would go in front of witnesses.
“She won’t even talk to me anymore? You fucking brainwashed her.”
You are so wrong, Kerry thought, but she didn’t say anything, knowing that there was no way he’d understand. It was still unclear whether or not Annette would be able to undo a lifetime of brainwashing, from the damaging ideas that she needed to hold on to her marriage even when it harmed her, to the women she had betrayed because of false loyalty to her male colleagues. One thing she couldn’t hold back though.
“You are lucky this is working out for you the way it is.”
“Fuck you,” he said. “You got nothing. Annette will never testify against me, in fact, she’s going to come crawling back a few days. Morals, you know? She’s not in the position to leave her husband.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. She’s in a great position to do that.”
“I’m ready.” Annette LeBlanc’s expression was as empty as her voice. Unfortunately, her jerk of a husband might be right, and he would get away with a slap on the wrist—but he would not get her back.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“Barry, I’m sorry, but…I’ll have my lawyer draw up the divorce papers. Please sign them.”
“You can bet your ass I won’t.”
“I prayed for it to stop,” Annette said once they were back in the car. “Every time he said it would be the last time, I thought my prayers were answered. Even when he stopped making promises, I still prayed. I bet you think that’s terribly naïve.”
Kerry sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I wish you would consider testifying. If anything, it might give him a bit more pressure to sign the papers.”
“Why did I get approved?”
“Because we don’t turn anyone away. That’s the way it is.”
Annette stayed silent for the next few minutes. Kerry didn’t think she had anything more to say either.
“I don’t understand you. Do you really think you can make every woman in this situation leave their home, their families?”
“You made that choice, didn’t you?”
“That’s a loaded word.”
“I agree.”
Again, the conversation came to a halt.
Annette said, “I was pregnant once. I had a miscarriage.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Then tell me why are so many women ready to throw this precious gift away, why do you stand for this?”
Oh Vivien, you owe me. “Not every woman is made to be a mother,” Kerry said, “and not everyone would agree that a pregnancy is a precious gift.”
; “A child is the only payoff we get. If at all.”
“How did it happen?”
“What?”
“Your miscarriage. What caused it?”
They were back to silence, but Kerry had dealt with enough trauma victims, and she had seen enough today to make an educated guess. “Again, I’m sorry. No one should go through this, but that’s part of what we are doing at Exodus. Every woman is different, and deserves to make her own choices. You deserved to have that baby. You still could, with a partner who respects you.”
“No, I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s not okay to make that choice. Ever.”
Kerry gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to get a grip on her conflicting emotions as well, sympathy for the woman who had obviously gone through hell, irritation at the same time because Annette LeBlanc was clinging to her convictions even though they had caused her this much pain. At least I tried. Hopefully, Hilary was doing better at home.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I wonder if that’s what Jesus meant when saying to turn the other cheek. I know I’m being a bitch about this, and I don’t want to be, but it bugs the hell out of me that she’s still trashing what we stand for, while she accepts our help,” Vivien admitted. “Often, the women who need the services that they have access to thanks to feminism, diss it the most.”
“I know. I co-wrote that paper, remember?”
Vivien leaned back into the pillows with a sigh. “I do. Sorry. I’m just really tired.”
“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
Still, they had found something pleasurable to do with the evening, a dinner out on the deck, making love with the sound of waves in the background—it was a dream. Their new home, the job to launch the new center without much concern about funding, they were so lucky, there was no denying that. Their new doctor who saw it well within her morals to help a loving and committed couple have a child.
“Have you given any thought to what you want to do?”
The story about the rookie had all but gone away soon after Kerry had stopped the shooter, but Vivien wasn’t fooling herself. As long as they were out in the public, speaking up, there would always be another story, from the ignorant, the greedy, or those who were both. Lots of business owners played by different rules than the Greenes, and their money went straight into channels created to sustain the worst of patriarchy. Yet, she and Kerry had to make a lot of personal decisions. Vivien felt sad and tired that some of those decisions might have already been made for Kerry.
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