Truth Be Told

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “I have work to do.” She had closed the office door, leaving Conner in the hallway.

  Although she’d been exhausted when she climbed into bed, her eyes remained open until she rose before the sun. She wandered through the house trying to unravel the riddle: Why Conner didn’t want a paternity test?

  “Beth will ask about the initiative to get prayer in the schools,” Zoë said when they entered the green room. “Ah, coffee.” She filled one of the Styrofoam cups. “Do you want some?”

  Not unless you can add something extra to that caffeine, Grace thought. “No, thank you.”

  “Now remember Beth’s reputation,” Zoë said between sips. “She can pull anything out of anyone.”

  Pilar and Solomon flicked through her mind.

  “Beth will ask you a question you never expected, and then wham! … You’ll be making a confession on national television.” Zoë chuckled. “Thank God, we don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Ms. Monroe?” A twenty-something red-haired woman peeked through the door. “We’re ready for you in makeup.”

  Grace followed the woman into another room, where she was introduced to André. He barely acknowledged the introduction before he whipped a smock over Grace’s St. John’s pantsuit.

  As André patted, then brushed foundation onto her face, she closed her eyes, trying to get some of the rest she wasn’t getting at home. Twenty minutes later, Andre turned her to the mirror. Gone were the dark circles and the slack in her cheeks. She didn’t look like a woman who hadn’t slept. She looked like one of the most powerful women in the city.

  Yeah, right, her reflection said back to her.

  Grace was escorted to Soundstage A, where Beth Carter waited. She stood when Grace stepped onto the platform.

  “Councilwoman Monroe, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Grace smiled as she extended her hand.

  Beth was an anomaly in Los Angeles. In the city where network anchors had to be movie-star perfect, Beth crashed that rule. With a large forehead, eyes set too far apart, and a nose that was more appropriate on a six-foot-four man rather than a five-foot two woman, she was the picture of common.

  That was the key to her success. Her appearance disarmed guests. She could be trusted.

  As Grace took Beth’s hand into her own, she felt her stiff shoulders soften. “Please call me Grace.”

  Beth motioned for Grace to sit, and Grace sank into the full chair that hugged her with its softness.

  As their microphones were being fitted, the two chatted about Beth’s recent trip to Singapore. A few minutes later, the stage manager gave the signal for the start of the show.

  “Are you comfortable?” Beth asked.

  Grace nodded as two assistants fluttered around Beth, handing her notes, filling her cup with iced coffee, and dabbing the ever-present oil from her face.

  Through the slightly open side curtains, Grace saw Zoë raise her thumb into the air.

  “In fifteen seconds,” the stage manager yelled.

  The familiar tune for The Women’s Exchange began, and the music transformed Beth. Her face became rigid, absent the smile that had welcomed Grace.

  “Ten seconds.”

  Beth sat up straighter in her chair, but when Grace tried to do the same, the chair’s cushions enveloped her as if she had been taken prisoner.

  “Five seconds.”

  For the first time, Grace noticed that Beth’s chair was raised slightly higher than hers.

  “Four … three … two … one!”

  “Good morning, Los Angeles. Welcome to The Women’s Exchange. I’m Beth Carter, and in our studio today, we have the new councilwoman of the Eighteenth District. Welcome, Grace Monroe.” The smile that had greeted Grace returned. “It’s good to have you here, Councilwoman.”

  “Thank you.” Grace smiled as she fought to push herself higher in her chair.

  In a quick move, Beth propelled herself to the edge of her seat. “Councilwoman Monroe, during the campaign you received extraordinary coverage because your views were considered extreme for an African American.”

  “I don’t consider my views extreme.”

  “But many do.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, relieved. This was going to be the same interview. Grace relaxed and in her mind went over her standard answers.

  “However, I wanted to discuss something else today,” Beth continued. “Your family …”

  Beth’s words caused Grace’s heart to skip.

  “There are things about you that many don’t know.”

  Grace’s heart pounded. How did Beth find out? How was she supposed to respond when she and Conner hadn’t even told their children?

  Grace’s glance darted over Beth’s shoulder to Zoë. Her frown was as deep as Grace’s.

  “It’s a secret that just came to my attention.”

  Grace glared at Beth as she reviewed her options. She could walk off the stage or say that her personal life could not be discussed. With print reporters or even a lesser-rated show, either option might work. But a negative response on The Women’s Exchange would surely find its way onto every local evening news program.

  “It’s interesting that you and your husband haven’t talked about this,” Beth went on.

  Maybe I should say it first, Grace thought. If I say it, I’ll control how the world finds out about Solomon. Grace swallowed. She had to form the words quickly.

  She said, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about this …”

  At the same time, Beth said, “I want to talk about … Starlight.”

  Grace clasped her hands together to hide their shaking. “Starlight?”

  “Yes. Not many people know that Starlight is your sister.”

  Her blood began to flow again. Over the campaigning months, she’d been asked about Starlight once. Starlight being her sister wasn’t as interesting as her side of politics. Right now, she’d never been happier to hear her sister’s name.

  Grace couldn’t respond fast enough. “Starlight is my sister.”

  Beth turned to the camera. “She is known as Starlight, but was born Mabel Morgan. Starlight is the half-sister of Councilwoman Grace Monroe.”

  Grace heard very few of Beth’s words as she tried to breathe herself back to calm.

  “We’ll find out more about these sisters. Stay tuned.”

  The stage manager yelled, “Two minutes.”

  Zoë rushed to Grace’s side, her back to Beth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought Starlight was old news.”

  She’s good news right now, Grace thought, reaching for her water glass. “I can handle this.”

  By the time the stage manager did the ten-second countdown, Grace was poised. Beth gave her return address and then turned to Grace, firing questions.

  “Why wasn’t your sister, Starlight, involved in your campaign? After all, she has quite a following.”

  “Yes, but this was a local election.” Grace paused and widened her smile. “And the results are in.”

  Beth’s laugh was a short one. “Still, Starlight could have been a major contributor, especially since so many in your family were involved. Are you ashamed of her? Is that why you keep your relationship a secret?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then what’s the problem? You’re a Christian politician; your sister is an inspirational speaker. It would seem her message would have been good for your campaign.”

  “Actually, My sister wouldn’t have been able to help me. We’re on very different pages.”

  Beth glanced at her notes. “Christian, inspirational, what’s the difference?”

  “Being a Christian means that a person is taking a stand for Jesus, while inspirational can mean anything.”

  Beth crossed one bony leg over the other. “I can’t really hear the difference,” she said, not letting Grace finish. She leaned forward. “Tell me, Councilwoman Monroe, are you sure there’s not more to the story? Are you and your sister estrang
ed?” It was a whisper designed to make Grace forget the cameras.

  Grace shook her head. “No, I saw my sister yesterday. And Saturday as well.”

  The smile disappeared from Beth’s eyes, and she glanced again at her notes. “Well, that’s good to know.” She looked into the camera. “We’ll be right back.”

  Grace smiled, feeling victorious. Beth lost her story and returned the interview to more familiar issues: How she could be a black conservative. Didn’t she believe that most Republicans were racists? And did she have aspirations for a larger piece of the pie?

  Inside, Grace thanked God that she’d been able to dodge this bullet. But she knew that at any point, this gun could be aimed at her again.

  “Pilar, this is Conner.”

  There was a pause. “Please hold on.” Another pause. “Solomon.”

  That was all he heard. The rest of the words were muffled as if she’d placed her hand over the receiver. Still, Conner strained to hear the boy’s voice.

  He closed his eyes, bringing forth the image of the boy he’d seen in the park.

  “Hello.”

  Her voice made him open his eyes, leaving behind the vision. Grace, Jayde, and Amber stared at him from the photo on his desk. He shifted his glance.

  Pilar said, “I wasn’t expecting your call.”

  “You were talking to Solomon.”

  “Yes. I sent him outside.”

  His eyes drifted back to the picture of his family. He cleared his throat. “I called so that we could begin to make plans.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I’d like to come to New York.” He heard her suck in air. “I just want to meet Solomon.”

  There was a pause. “Before we do that, Conner, there is something …”

  “I agree. I want to take a paternity test.” Conner couldn’t decipher the meaning of her moan.

  A moment later, she said, “I thought you already believed Solomon’s your son.”

  “Is there a problem with my taking the test?” His heart pounded harder with each word of his question.

  “I just don’t want to slow down everything when we already know the truth.”

  He had said similar words to Grace.

  “It just makes sense for us to do this, Pilar. So that we can all be sure.”

  Grace had said similar words to him.

  “You mean so your wife can be sure.” In his silence, she said, “I would have never come to you if you weren’t Solomon’s father.”

  “I know that, Pilar.”

  “I would have never come to you if I were not dying.”

  He massaged his eyes with his hands. “I promise this won’t slow down anything. There’s a DNA center in New York, one of the best in the country. We can have the results quickly.” He paused. “Unless you have someplace in mind.”

  It took a moment for her to respond. “No.”

  “And then I’d like to meet Solomon.” More silence. “We shouldn’t introduce me as his father. We need to wait … until.” Her silence made him continue as if he were presenting a case. “This way, Solomon and I can get to know one another … before we have to tell him.”

  Seconds ticked before Pilar said, “Maybe we should wait until after the test.”

  Her words felt like punishment. “If you think that’s best.”

  “When are you coming to New York?”

  “Within the next few days, but if I can’t meet Solomon, we can do the test through the mail.”

  “Come to New York.”

  He didn’t dare ask if those words were a change of mind.

  “I’ll call you when I’ve made the plans.”

  She hung up, and although that had become their way, he felt her fury.

  Grace didn’t know what was worse—thinking that Beth had found out about Solomon or spending thirty minutes trying to explain Christian values to someone who didn’t believe.

  In the car, she closed her eyes, trying to discover that calm place, but she couldn’t find it. She had to talk to Conner. Convince him to take the paternity test.

  The cell phone rang, and Grace looked at the Caller ID. She closed the privacy window in the car.

  “How did the interview go?” Conner asked.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, then paused. “I really wanted to finish what we started last night.”

  She wanted to make peace. “Maybe we can go out to dinner.”

  “I’ve decided to go to New York.” He spoke over her words.

  Her chest tightened, and she breathed to draw air into her lungs. “Why? You don’t even know if Solomon is your son.”

  “I know that he is, Grace.” He sounded as weary as she felt. “But I will take the test. We can expedite everything if we’re in New York.”

  She exhaled, but it was just partial relief. “You can do the DNA test from anywhere, Conner.”

  “I know, but while we’re there, we can meet Solomon.”

  “You’re going to walk into this boy’s life and then just walk away if he’s not your son? That’s not fair.”

  The crackle of dead air came through the phone. “We’re not telling him anything. Pilar will introduce us as friends.”

  She couldn’t imagine being any kind of friend to Pilar. “I think we should wait. These tests don’t take long.”

  “Two weeks. The DNA Diagnostic Center in New York can do it. It’ll cost five hundred dollars.”

  She closed her eyes, waiting for his next words.

  “I want you to go to New York with me.”

  “This is not how we should do this,” she said with her eyes still shut.

  “I’m getting the test for you. You should go to New York with me.”

  She felt like one of his clients—being pressured into a settlement. “I can’t do this right now.” She pressed the End button before he could respond, then turned off the phone.

  She glanced through the tinted windows as her car rolled past Sunset Boulevard. She was in the middle of Hollywood. But there was not a movie that could rival the drama unfolding in her life.

  There was a quick knock on his door, and Chandler came in just as Conner dropped the phone into the cradle.

  “You’ve been behind closed doors all morning.” Chandler sat in front of his brother’s desk. “Thought I’d check on you.”

  Conner shook his head. “It’s not going well.”

  “Well, I’ve briefed Monica on the Jacoby case. She’ll take over for you.”

  “I don’t want to dump my work on anyone.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. Like you had mine when Devry and I spent all that time in fertility clinics.” Chandler leaned across the desk. “You need to concentrate on home.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Grace and I were making progress, but now …”

  “Give her time. She’s hurt. It’s not always easy to do what you know. Sometimes it’s easier to just go with what you feel.”

  Conner turned toward the window. “Grace wants me to have a paternity test.” He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe her request.

  “Of course, you should have one.”

  Conner turned toward his brother so fast he almost lost his balance. “I don’t need a test.”

  “What are you talking about, bro? In today’s times …”

  “I told you, I saw him.”

  “I understand, but you can’t turn your life upside down based on one less-than-five-minutes meeting. You need the medical evidence.”

  He began to speak, then stopped and slipped into his chair. “I don’t need any more time, Chandler. I know in my bones that he’s mine.” There was a smile in his tone but not on his face.

  “Then a test will prove you right. And when the proof is in, it’ll be easier for Grace.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I’m doing it.” When Chandler stood, Conner said, “Solomon is my son.”

  Chandler smiled. “If that’s what y
ou want, bro, I hope that’s what you get. But most of all, I pray that God’s will is done.”

  Chandler turned and left the office before he saw the doubt cross his brother’s face.

  Chapter 19

  Each of the fourteen conference room chairs was filled. Starlight stood at the round mahogany table with her arms spread as if she were about to lead a symphony. Her caftan was a shade lighter than the lavender walls, and the full sleeves fluttered as she spoke.

  “Your duties are outlined in this manual.”

  The “Light Girls”—Starlight’s assistants—flipped through the eighteen-page booklet she’d prepared.

  “Each of the three hundred women must feel we are addressing their every need.”

  “Three hundred?” Marta, one of the Light Girls, seemed stunned. “How did you find all those people?” Her Jamaican accent was thicker with her surprise.

  “L.A. is the land of self-improvement,” Lexington said, oblivious to Starlight’s frown. “Any seminar will draw with the right marketing.”

  Starlight’s frown deepened. She never gave explanations. Especially not to Marta, who was too interested in the financial side of Starlight Enterprises. Starlight made a mental note. After this conference, Marta would be standing in the unemployment line.

  Starlight said, “We’re going to do run-throughs every day until the conference.”

  “Why so much practice?” The question came from a new hire.

  Starlight strained to remember her name. One strike, she thought. “I’ll explain … this time.” She sat in her chair, which, with its high back, was much larger than the other seats. “People must leave this conference raving.”

  “Because we want to do one every quarter,” Lexington offered.

  Starlight could see it in their eyes—their inner calculators computing. “Any other questions?” she asked quickly. She frowned as Marta and the new hire exchanged glances, but all remained silent. She motioned for them to stand. Starlight placed her palms together and bowed. “May the light forever be with you and yours.”

  The women and Lexington followed. “And you as well.”

  The Light Girls filed from the room, although Marta lingered for a few seconds.

  Once alone, Lexington said, “You seem upset. Whaz up?”