Steve went on to tell me that he really liked Andrew but he was also very disturbed about his behavior, specifically the way Andrew was speaking to the young female staffers. Steve told me he was blown away that nobody had already reported Andrew for sexual harassment.
Suffice it to say that after spending a few days around the campaign, Steve decided he didn’t want to have anything to do with it, claiming that he was too old for the shenanigans that were going on. After an up-close look, he believed John Edwards had gotten as far as he had on sheer talent alone, because he was surrounded by buffoons and all the talk from staffers was that his wife was a big problem, one that Steve wanted no part of. Naturally this was not news to Johnny. He knew he had big problems but how was he ever going to fix them if he couldn’t get anyone in there to run his campaign properly?
I returned early that evening to find, once again, a Johnny-and-Elizabeth fight that had been very bad. During this one, Johnny threw his phone against the wall and broke it, which he was happy about given she now had no way to contact him.
The last morning in Seattle, Johnny had already left to go to a meeting somewhere else in the hotel, and as I was blow-drying my hair, a room service guy with food kept knocking on the door. My heart was beating fast. The phone started ringing. I didn’t answer. The guy started banging on the door again. I told him through the door he had the wrong room. He left. I was freaked out and wanted out of there fast.
The next week I went to DC and stayed at the Westin again, then the following week I went to the Westin Diplomat Resort & Spa in Hollywood, Florida. (Did they have a deal with Starwood Hotels, or what?) I didn’t mind all the travel. I had made plenty of money while working for the campaign, and despite the huge tax bill I had just paid, I had no other real expenses except to go see him. I had no problems spending my money to go see him. After all, I wanted to be with him as much as possible because I was completely in love. The hotel in Florida had a couple of restaurants across the street, so I sat outside and waited for Johnny to call me.
He was always calling me from the plane, from his cell before takeoff and in the air from the air phone if he was alone. Then typically he would ring again from his cell upon landing, and then as soon as he got to his room. He would also call during his run time—before and after he ran. I was his lifeline to happiness and I loved it.
This night they were delayed due to bad weather. He said he would keep me posted, and as I suspected, it turned out to be a long wait with too much wine and lots of reading. If you need to learn patience, falling in love with a campaigning married politician is an excellent way to do it.
The following week I remember being in the car in Manhattan, about to go into Soho House New York for dinner with Mimi, when Johnny called to tell me that he had a surprise for me. He believed he had successfully changed his schedule so he was actually going to be staying in New York Wednesday night as well, giving us three nights together that week instead of two.
I remember I wore jeans that Wednesday night. We had Serafina takeout for dinner and, as usual, we laughed a lot. When we were alone together everything else in the world faded away and it was nothing but love and happiness. That night was no different. We really were so madly in love.
On July 3rd, 2007, I would see the ultrasound that, unbeknownst to either of us, resulted from that night. In the wee morning hours of May 24th, 2007, at the very same hotel where our relationship began, was the beginning of an event that changed our lives forever. At the time, we had no idea what had actually occurred and we were certainly clueless about what was to come.
TWELVE
Odd Timing
“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
—Elizabeth Stone
Out the blue one day at the end of May—neither Johnny nor I had any idea yet that I was pregnant—Andrew said to me something like, “You need to stop paying to go see him out of your own money. This is an expense that you should not be paying. And I am going to take care of it. How much do you think you spend a month on these trips? Like five thousand dollars?”
“Yeah,” I replied, “something like that. But Andrew, where is this money going to come from?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to take care of it.”
“Who is going to pay the taxes on it?” (I had just paid the largest tax bill in my life, so it was a concern.)
He said, “It’s a gift from me, so I will have to worry about that.”
“So you’re going to give me a gift of five thousand dollars a month? But where are you getting that money?”
“Don’t worry about it; I am taking care of it. It’s a gift.”
“Are you for real? Is this a joke?”
“I am serious.”
“Is this on the up-and-up?”
“Of course. It’s a gift. Just send me your banking info and I will put it directly into your account.”
“Okay. Thanks. Cool.”
I thought this was a little odd but I knew that Andrew had connections to very wealthy people through Johnny. I trusted him and I honestly thought this money was coming from someone who wanted to do what he could to help out the people who were helping out Johnny. In fact, much later on in Santa Barbara, standing in the kitchen, during one of Andrew’s many meltdowns about Johnny not calling him, Andrew told me that this money had come from a male lawyer that he knew. He told me the man’s name, but I had never heard it before, and unfortunately, I did not retain it.
To this day I am positive that Johnny had no idea about this arrangement of Andrew “taking care of my travel” until I told him about it, which was way after this. Because I have never actually seen all of Andrew’s bank statements from all of his bank accounts with my own eyes, I honestly have no idea where the money that he put into my account came from, and I am still skeptical that it actually came from Bunny Mellon as Andrew has publicly claimed over and over again, or if any of Bunny’s money was actually used on me (more on that later).
I flew to Vegas at the beginning of June and had dinner at the Four Seasons Hotel Las Vegas while I waited for Johnny to call from his adjoining hotel, the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino. The next morning, over room service, Elizabeth called to scream at Johnny, and he left the room and paced the hallway while she screamed on and on. He knew how badly his reaction to her irritated me. He would placate her, allowing her to continue on and on with the same behavior, so nothing changed. It drove me nuts.
Speaking of being driven nuts, in the airport I saw a copy of People that was filled with Elizabeth’s glorious talk of her beautiful marriage to Johnny and upcoming vow renewal. Reading all of this was difficult because it was so disconnected from reality.
The pictures accompanying the “so excited to get married again” article were also not great. Elizabeth and the kids were much more photogenic than what was presented, and I mentioned that to Johnny when he called shortly after I’d read the piece. His response was: “It’s so weird—Elizabeth knew you would say that. She was very upset about the pictures because she knew you would think they were bad.”
Fabulous. It appeared that her spin on the happy couple was also very much directed at me. Nothing spells “happy couple” like the vendetta you have against the other woman.
On June 3rd Johnny had a debate in New Hampshire, which was broadcast on TV, so, of course, Elizabeth (adored by all) attended. It is hard not to become jaded and/or really angry with yourself for being so stupid and actually buying into the illusion—buying into “the media persona”—when you begin to see how far off public images are from the actual person. All of that was very difficult for me. Politics also just goes against the way I naturally operate, which is to let life unfold naturally and speak only if and when it felt right, which usually is not in the midst of some frenzy. I
don’t want to speak unless I have come to some sort of understanding and I feel that there is a need. In politics you are speaking all the time, getting your story and your agenda out there. And the one who gets their message out first has the best chance of having their message stick, the best chance of driving the storyline they want. Unfortunately, factual truth doesn’t have a lot to do with it.
On June 7th, I took the Acela to Boston and went to the first hotel I ever stayed at with Johnny near Back Bay Station. I went straight to the bar and ordered crab cakes and wine. He was staying at the Westin across the street. As I was on my way across the street, I remembered him calling and telling me to wait a few minutes, that they had forgotten something with his food and needed to come back. I popped into the Palm Restaurant to use the bathroom. Suddenly I felt weird, as if I were having an allergic reaction to the crab cakes. I went up to his room. I remember munching on Tums, which made me feel better.
We talked the next morning about me coming to New Hampshire that evening but decided against it. Iowa and New Hampshire were not places for a candidate’s mistress to show up. Both are crawling with nosy press and manipulative people. It was just too dangerous. I was going to see him on Monday night anyway in Florida.
After a little shopping for his upcoming birthday, I took the train back to Jersey. When I got home, I felt weird again, a little sick but not like any sick I could identify. Then the thought crossed my mind: Could I be pregnant? I couldn’t imagine I was, given I was 43 and had never been pregnant. Johnny and I never used birth control, but I was always mindful of my cycle and I was certain that I had never been ovulating during any of my visits with Johnny. I went to the drugstore and bought a home pregnancy test anyway, just to be sure. I did the test and it was negative. I never told anyone because there was nothing to tell.
I flew off to Miami on Monday, June 11th, the day after Johnny’s birthday. Johnny was staying at the Fontainebleau. I went to the Delano South Beach, where I had never stayed, and sat outside for dinner, waiting yet again for his call. Then I took a cab to the Fontainebleau. The problem there was that John Davis’s and Johnny’s rooms had a shared hallway entrance. There was a door and then a little foyer, and when you went into the foyer, there were two doors side by side, one for each of their rooms. Dangerous. I got in without John Davis knowing.
The next morning Johnny left, and I bolted the door and took a shower. As I was drying my hair, I heard pounding on the door. I called out, “Yes?”
“Hotel security. Open the door.”
I did not. Apparently the advance guy (someone I did not know named Jeff Harris) had tried to get into the room when I was in the shower to get the leftover sodas and such and to make sure no papers had been left behind. He couldn’t get in (because I had bolted the door) and went to get hotel security.
Through the door I told them I would be done in a few minutes and would then leave.
“Open the door! You are not authorized to be in there.”
“Yes, I am. I am the guest of Matthew Nelson.”
I let them keep banging away while I went back into the bedroom and called Johnny. He didn’t pick up. I then called Andrew and told him I was in a bit of a pickle. I was in Miami and hotel security was banging on the door. He hung up and called hotel security. But the banging continued. Andrew called me back and told me to go to the door and tell the staffer to call him. I did. He didn’t know Andrew. I wrote down Andrew’s number, opened the door without unbolting it, and gave him the piece of paper. “Call Andrew,” I said. He did, and hotel security left.
Johnny called. I told him what had happened and that I was leaving soon. Andrew had gotten them to go away. Surprisingly, Johnny sounded fine about it all. I take it he was focused on whatever campaigning event he was doing.
I was not fine. I was very upset and too old for this shit.
I went back to the Delano for breakfast. Andrew called and told me I should just stay in Miami, relax, enjoy myself, and get a massage. He would take care of it.
“Andrew, you don’t have any money. How are you going to take care of it?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just let me take care of it.”
This went on for a long time. We spoke through my entire breakfast. I finally caved. I told Andrew, “I’m going to the gift shop. If I can find a bathing suit I like, I will stay. If not, I’m going back to Jersey.” (I hadn’t packed to stay in Miami.) He told me to put the waiter on the phone. I did. He had my breakfast billed to him.
I went to the gift shop and found a bathing suit I liked. Johnny called while I was in there to see if I was okay. He knew how upset I was about “being caught.”
“Yeah, I’m a little better. I may stay the night.”
“Okay. Just wanted to make you sure you were all right. I’ll call you later.”
Andrew then called the Shore Club a few doors down from the Delano and faxed his credit card so that it was already taken care of when I went to check in. He insisted that I get a massage and eat at Nobu. After resisting for a long time, almost to the point of fighting, I finally caved.
Looking back now, it makes perfect sense why Andrew was so relentless about letting him take care of it. I suspect that, for him, it justified his soliciting and accepting funds (that nobody knew about) using Johnny’s name. And yet four years later, I would see with my own eyes the checks and the dates in the indictment, United States of America v. Johnny Reid Edwards, that Andrew had already received two checks from Bunny Mellon, one for ten thousand dollars and one for twenty-five thousand dollars. Of course, beyond the amounts that went to my expenses (if they even went to my expenses) which at that time did not add up to even half of thirty-five thousand dollars, I have no idea how these funds were spent, but it wasn’t on me.
I flew home from Florida on Wednesday, and on Thursday I remember feeling weird again. Not well. What was wrong with me? Was it my period? I checked when my period was, and the first day of my last period was May 11th. For obvious reasons, I was always paying attention to my cycle.
I went to the drugstore and bought another home pregnancy test. This one was positive. One was negative, one was positive. I told Mimi about the tests and decided to go see a doctor to get a definitive answer.
Around this time Johnny called me from Detroit; he was very upset and tired. He told me that Elizabeth had begun her full-on harassment campaign of the old girlfriends (the ones before 2004). Apparently when Elizabeth was done raging at Johnny for the night (or if she could not reach him), she would focus her anger elsewhere. Johnny clearly felt powerless against Elizabeth’s venom and, on top of his campaign schedule, it simply exhausted him to no end.
Johnny was scheduled to stay the night in New York on June 21st, but something happened that resulted in him and his people opting out of staying at the Regency. Instead, they ended up staying at a hotel next to the Meadowlands so they could get out of Teterboro Airport early the next morning. When he called late that night, I threw on one of my favorite dresses and jumped into the car. It took me only ten minutes to get to his hotel, door to door.
He was so tired and very sweet. My heart broke for him. I loved him so much; I really wanted to give him all of my energy. I remember him saying he really thought I felt different, like I was pregnant. I told him I was going to go to the doctor. I told him I did feel odd, and I really wasn’t sure.
I called the doctor on June 25th. The soonest I could get in was July 3rd. I had already stopped drinking just in case it turned out I was pregnant.
The following week I stayed at the Westin Embassy (now The Fairfax at Embassy Row) in DC. I remember Johnny being in a really good mood following a debate that was held at Howard University. He had even ordered chocolate cake with his room service meal to celebrate.
The next morning, I put on a beige summer dress, one that Johnny really liked on me. (I think women remember when
men notice clothing because it’s so rare!) He called me after I left. I was in a cab on the way to Union Station. He asked if I had seen Sam Myers Sr., Johnny’s trip director, on the way out. I had not because I had gone down the side elevators and not the main ones. Apparently Sam had come to his door just minutes after I had left. We must have missed each other by mere seconds. I had met Sam on the announcement tour and even though (like Johnny) I love Sam, I was happy in that moment not to have run into him.
I went to the doctor on July 3rd. I had no plans to speak to Johnny for a while because he had told me during our last conversation that July 3rd was Elizabeth’s birthday. They were going to the beach and then on a family vacation to New Hampshire (only in politics do you plan a family vacation in New Hampshire), so he had no way to call because Elizabeth still frequently searched through every one of his bags for surreptitious cell phones.
To say that my entire world shifted when I saw the image on the ultrasound screen would be an understatement. In one second my entire life became about something else.
A protective nurturing power was awakened from the deepest part of my being. It is a part of me that I always had a vague sense was there but did not remotely understand its vastness until that moment. Yet within seconds, this joyful new feminine power streamed through me with the utmost gratitude and I fully embraced all responsibility for this life that had now been entrusted to me. I did not know until that moment that being a mother is a role that means more to me than any other role in the entire world.
I also never uttered one word about the identity of the father of this little child. And I was happy to discover that, besides the necessary generic health questions, the doctors involved really do respect your privacy. I suspect that, with the multiple ways to conceive and all the different family configurations these days, they have seen a lot.
So when my doctor told me, “With your last period beginning May 11th, and the size of the baby, I am going to give you a due date of February 15th and I am going to call this baby a Presidents Day weekend baby!” All I could think was, “Of course you are, because my life, well, it just couldn’t get any weirder.”
What Really Happened Page 11