Choices (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her father’s suggestion to spend the night had seemed logical. They had both felt, albeit silently, that the familiar surroundings might help her cope with the tragedy of her loss. Though words were his stock and trade in public, at home her father had always demonstrated difficulty with expressing any kind of emotion. He had nothing to offer his daughter now that might help, other than his physical presence. So he had invited her to stay rather than drive home tonight and Shanna had accepted.

  She had assumed that Jordan would remain with her here, but he had begged off. Clearing the first part of the day had left him with a myriad of details to catch up on. The primary might still be six months away, he’d pointed out, but they both knew that it would be here in less than a heartbeat. Neither of them wanted anything less than a landslide victory.

  Jordan had kissed Shanna tenderly at the door before he left. There had even been, she thought, a trace of subdued passion evident in his parting.

  Growing more restless as she thought, Shanna wandered around the room now, trying vainly to ward off a chill that refused to leave her.

  Maybe it was selfish of her, but she hadn’t wanted him to go. She needed him right now, needed to feel his arms around her, needed to feel his support. Why hadn’t he sensed that? Having him here wouldn’t have changed the fact that her grandmother was gone, that she’d never again spend a snowy afternoon talking to the old woman over lunch at their favorite restaurant, but somehow it would have helped her get through the night.

  Flopping down on the bed, Shanna stretched her feet out in front of her, rubbing one bare stockinged foot against the instep of the other. There was no use brooding about the fact that he hadn’t been sensitive to her needs. She should have said something. More than that, she should have just gone home with Jordan. She had stayed here because this was where most of her childhood had taken place and her childhood had been the time when her grandmother was very alive, very vital.

  She realized now that her reasoning had been faulty. Shanna knew she didn’t belong here anymore, not the way she had before. She wasn’t Shanna Brady any longer. It was more than just a name change. Part of her would always be a Brady, of course, and a Fitzhugh. But she was no longer a child, no longer just the daughter of the senator and the socialite. She was a wife now. Possibly a congressman’s wife, if everything went well in the next few months. And eventually she would just be Shanna, someone of her own making. She just had to find out who that someone was.

  The thought pleased her. Even though that eventuality was still far in the future, the fact remained that she had taken a step up, a step forward. She had grown away from all this. She belonged with Jordan now in the house they had bought together. This room wasn’t her haven any longer.

  Making the decision to go home, she couldn’t wait to leave. Hastily she pulled out the few belongings she had brought with her for her stay out of the closet and threw them on the bed. Satin padded hangers fell unnoticed as they flew out, raining on the carpet. She took out her suitcase and packed without bothering to fold.

  She was going home.

  With her coat unbuttoned, Shanna made her way downstairs, suitcase in hand. She looked around for her father. She didn’t want to leave without telling him she was going. He was exactly where she thought he would be. In the den.

  For a moment Shanna leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and just looked in. It always smelled the same. Leather and lemon oil. Books lined two of the walls from floor to ceiling. As a child, she had been incredibly impressed by all the knowledge that was crammed into this room. She had been certain that her father had to be the smartest person in the whole world, thinking that he had read every one of the books on the shelves.

  While Congress was in session, they lived here. The house in Illinois was a place they retreated to in the summer. Her memories were here. She had seen him like this countless times before, in that exact same position, sitting at his desk bent over a speech he was to give or a report that he needed to read in order to make a decision on a pending vote.

  She was proud of him, she realized, feeling a small, surprising surge at the thought. She only wished she knew him a little better. But she doubted that the opportunity would ever materialize now. Jordan needed her, and once he was elected, she knew the rush of Washington life would take her with it. There’d be precious little time to spend with her father and certainly not alone.

  Brady felt that odd, vaguely uncomfortable feeling that came over a person when someone was watching them. When he looked up and saw Shanna standing in the doorway, he pushed back his chair, surprised to see her. She had looked so exhausted before, he was certain she had gone to bed.

  And then he saw the suitcase. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Shanna took a step into the room. The den was warm, cosy. She realized that it made her feel the way Chez Charles did. “I’m going home, Dad.”

  “I understand, Shanna, I really do.” Brady crossed to his only child and took her hands in his. He felt a little hypocritical, playing the father-daughter scene. But he was her father and he did love her, even though he’d never really had the time to show her. “But the weather bureau’s predicting snow again. Why don’t you wait until morning?”

  It was a very sensible request. But there was a sense of urgency nagging at her, as if she had to get home. Not tomorrow, the way she had planned, but tonight. It was as if something outside of herself was making her go.

  Shanna shook her head. “I’ll be all right.” She saw the furrow form between his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your concern, Dad, it’s just that—“

  The senator stopped her. There was no need for her to explain. He could read her thoughts. “I know. You’re a big girl now and belong with your husband.”

  He continued to hold her hands in his for a moment longer and just looked at her. Really looked at her. She had grown up without his ever having noticed the process. He had been at a rally in Texas for her fifth birthday, at a party convention for her sixteenth. Telegrams had taken his place. And he had missed her twenty-first birthday party by three days. He’d only remembered the fact a day after it was over. She’d taken his belated call of congratulations without reproach, intensifying his guilt. But there was always something else to see to, some situation that demanded his attention immediately instead of a quiet little girl who always waited.

  All those years, gone in an instant. Shanna had done all her growing up without him and he now regretted it, but there was no getting back the past. There was only now. “Call me if you need me, Shanna.”

  Shanna gave him a little squeeze before she withdrew her hands. “Thanks, Dad. I will.” She left, humming.

  The storm that was just on the horizon lingered there and the air tingled, feeling crisp and clean as she hurried home. She drove ten miles over the speed limit all the way, one eye in the rearview mirror, watching for dancing red-and-blue lights. To her relief, none appeared. She didn’t want to waste time while a policeman wrote her a ticket.

  The sense of urgency, of a need to go home, was increasing. It came, she thought, from a need to count her blessings. Her grandmother’s death had made her acutely aware of how precious life was. How much all the good points should be savored. Shanna pressed down harder on the gas, slowing only when she came to patches of ice.

  It was almost one in the morning when she finally pulled up in her driveway. For the first time the imposing two-story custom-built Tudor house with its lofty rooms and manicured landscaping actually felt like home to her. Up until now, it had been the house her mother had selected for them. It had suited Jordan instantly. But it wasn’t until this very moment that Shanna felt she belonged here as well.

  An ironic smile lifted the corners of Shanna’s mouth. Her mother had been right after all.

  Getting out, she left the overnight case in the car. She’d get it in the morning. Right now all she wanted to do was slip into bed beside Jordan. She decoded the security system next to the front
door and let herself in. As she closed the door quietly behind her she automatically reactivated the system. It started to snow again.

  Given the hour, Jordan was probably asleep. Though Shanna wanted to wake him, to talk to him and have him hold her, she knew that would be selfish of her. It would be comfort enough for now just to lie next to him.

  A wave of sadness washed over her, sneaking up from out of nowhere. She pushed it aside. Her grandmother was gone, but life went on. That was what Eloise had always said to her. No matter what, life went on and you had to go with it or get swept aside by the undertow.

  She slipped off her shoes and quietly crossed to the bedroom. The sound of voices made her stop. She strained, trying to make out the words. It had to be the television set. He was up, watching a movie. Maybe he missed her and couldn’t sleep. She grinned. At least she could hope.

  Still wearing her coat and holding her purse, she hurried the rest of the way to the bedroom. But she stopped just before opening the door. The voices weren’t coming from the television set. That was Jordan’s voice. And a woman’s.

  In her bedroom?

  Shanna’s heart began to hammer as her breathing quickened. No. It was the television, it had to be. She bit her lower lip hard as she slowly pushed the door open, hoping. Afraid.

  The bedroom was dark except for the light coming from a lamp on the nightstand. Shanna saw nothing else but the two tangled, naked bodies on the bed.

  Jordan, his body sleek with sweat, balanced himself on his elbows as he looked down at the woman who was currently satisfying his almost inexhaustible carnal appetite. Liz Gonway, his campaign secretary, was the latest in a long string of women that went back some thirteen years. Except for a redhead named Nona in Gary, Indiana, Liz had proven by far to be the most superior lover he had ever had. She could do things with her mouth that made him groan just to think about. Too bad she wasn’t as well connected as she was well built.

  The ache in his loins was growing again, demanding release. His hips moved in mounting agitation as he laughed at Liz’s weakly stated suggestion that perhaps she should leave.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, I tell you.” With a hard thrust, he watched her eyes widen, watched the hunger take over. His ego and his lust fed on the look of urgent desire on her face. “The silly little bitch is spending the night in Georgetown at her parents’ house, so prostrated with grief she can’t even put on her shoes, much less drive over here. We’ve got the rest of the night to ourselves. Don’t waste it thinking about her.”

  Shanna opened her mouth to cry out in protest, as if the very act would erase the scene she was watching, but at first no words would come out.

  Everything crystallized. It was true, all of it. The rumors, her mother’s snide remarks, her grandmother’s instinctive dislike. True. All true. Jordan was using her. He didn’t love her. How could he have done this to her? Betrayed her when she loved him so much?

  She wanted to crumple in a heap on her knees and sob her heart out. She wanted to hurl something at the two grotesque bodies on the bed who mocked everything she had believed in, mocked the world she had created for herself. She wanted to hurt him physically for slashing her heart out so carelessly, without remorse, without thought.

  She wanted to throw up.

  Tears lodged in her throat, strangling her. She gasped and the bodies on the bed jerked apart, startled as they looked in her direction.

  “Goddamn you to hell, Jordan!” Shanna screamed, spinning around on her stockinged heel.

  “Shanna!”

  In one instant Jordan’s world shook on the foundations he had so carefully built up over the long years. Panic, rage, frustration all sliced at his awareness. He had to fix this. He had to. He shoved Liz aside as if she were an inanimate object in his way.

  “Oh God, Shanna.”

  Jordan leaped from the bed as if he had been hurled by the force of a detonating bomb, a bomb that could destroy everything that was just now coming within reach. He stumbled, tangling in the sheet that clung to his leg. Cursing vehemently, he kicked it aside and ran after his wife, not even bothering to pull on his pants.

  Behind him, Liz scrambled into the bathroom. Articles of clothing dripped from her arms as she turned to slam the door behind her.

  Jordan forgot she was even there. “Shanna,” he cried as he chased after her. “Wait. I can explain.”

  He had a golden tongue. He had talked himself into her life, into her heart. She wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to talk again.

  “You don’t have to,” she spat over her shoulder. “One picture is worth a thousand words, ‘Congressman.’”

  “Shanna, please, I’m sorry. She doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, upset by the funeral. She started coming on to me and I weakened.”

  The lie made her physically sick and she almost retched as she fled. He managed to catch her by the arm just as she reached the hallway. Shanna turned, swinging. Catching him off guard, she hit him squarely in the face and he fell backward, releasing her. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to look at him.

  She didn’t want to live.

  Her entire world was completely shattered. There was no place to turn, nowhere to go. No one to care.

  Shanna tore open the front door and the security alarm went off, a shrill sound piercing the air. She ran outside.

  Jordan had cut the corner of his brow when he fell. The blood trickled down his face unnoticed. Naked, genuinely frightened for his future, he stood in the doorway, shouting after her to come back.

  Still barefoot, Shanna ran through the fresh crisp snow to her car. In her hurry to see Jordan, she had left it unlocked. She threw herself behind the wheel, frantically trying to thrust the key into the ignition. Her hand was shaking so badly, she missed the first time. She jabbed at it again, afraid that Jordan would come after her and pull her out before she had a chance to get away.

  Above all else, she had to get away.

  Shanna needed time to think, to find something, anything to hang on to. Somehow she was going to pull the pieces of her life into some semblance of sense. She couldn’t do that if Jordan got a chance to talk to her first, to mesmerize her with his words, with his eyes.

  “Jerk. Stupid, stupid jerk.” She blinked back tears, not knowing if she meant the term to apply to him or herself. Or to both.

  Spinning the car around on what felt like two wheels, she heard the tires squeal in protest as she peeled out of the driveway and drove into the blackness beyond her house. The blackness that now represented her life.

  Behind her, the siren still screeched, drowning out the sound of Jordan’s hoarse, impotent cries as he called for her to come back.

  Chaptter 10

  Shanna drove, unseeing, down the long, winding road that led away from the house. She had absolutely no idea where she was going, she just knew that it had to be as far away from Jordan as was physically possible. She was shaking so badly she turned on the heater in the car all the way up. Fumbling with the switch, she took her eyes off the road.

  A car traveling in the opposite direction just narrowly missed ramming into her. The driver leaned on his horn, cursing her stupidity.

  “Your lights, shithead! Put on your damned lights!”

  Muttering an oath, trying to clear her mind, Shanna turned the wrong switch and the wipers came to life, scraping at the windshield. She stopped them and found the lights. Twin golden beams formed and merged, illuminating the path directly in front of her.

  Damn him! She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek to wipe away the flow of tears. She couldn’t control them. She couldn’t control anything. She just continued crying.

  And damn her for believing that someone who looked like Jordan could fall so easily in love with her. Damn her for needing so much to be loved.

  She shook her head, blinking, trying to clear away the tears that clung to her lashes, blinding her as she drove. She swerved and gasped. Regaining control of th
e car, she looked down at the speedometer. Seventy-five. In her agitation, she had the gas pedal almost down to the floor. Shanna eased her foot off.

  How could he? Damn it, how could he? How could Jordan do something so heinous to her, and on the day of her grandmother’s funeral. Didn’t he have any sense of decency at all?

  She knew the answer to that. Anger churned within her as she pressed down hard on the gas pedal again without realizing it.

  A large navy-blue sedan appeared at the cross street at the bottom of the hill, running the stop sign. Shanna slammed on her brakes. Her car swerved, fishtailing along the icy road. It was another narrow escape. She didn’t care.

  Shanna kept driving, trying to outrun her feelings. If she went fast enough, maybe she wouldn’t ache so.

  It was impossible.

  A fool, a stupid little fool, she thought bitterly as she went through a red light, that’s all she had been. She had closed her eyes to the signs that had been all around her. She’d loved him unconditionally and thought that he loved her. Her mother’s blatant references, other people’s sly innuendos, the way women had fawned on him, she had whitewashed it all. Excused it time and again with flimsy lies to herself. Because she’d wanted to believe that what he told her was the truth.

  That he loved her. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

  Finding him in bed with that woman was the final straw. She had to open her eyes.

  They had all been just campaign promises, the words he had said to her. Campaign promises made in order to get elected to the lofty position of Senator Brady’s son-in-law. It was all suddenly looking glass clear to her. It had been a clever plan, laid out with the strategy of a Napoleon. A Napoleon taking advantage of an attention-starved Josephine.

  She hated herself for that, for being so weak. And she hated him for being so cruel and using that for his own benefit without any thought to what it might do to her.

  Why should he? He didn’t care. Tears choked her.