The Sweet Thief

by Temple Madison

  “But I didn’t know the truth till the very end.”

  “So what? When you learned the truth, you charged in there like the cavalry and faced them down. That’s a hero in my books.”

  Suddenly, Griff knew the truth. It began as a tiny filter of light and grew—and grew some more until it became a blinding blaze. “It was you,” he whispered with an incredulous look on his face. “You did it! Dear god, you went and parted the fuckin’ Red Sea.”

  The senator returned Griff’s accusing gaze, and then said defensively, “Me? The Red Sea? Where in hell would you get an idea like that?”

  “You’ve always been able to get me out of impossible situations. The right words to the right people.” Griff narrowed his eyes on the old man. “Why? Why are you always bailing me out? Why the hell is it when I get in trouble, you’re always there to help? Why don’t you just let me sink or swim?”

  “Why, why, why?” The senator parroted. “You’re sure full of questions all of a sudden.” He was silent as he looked down at his smoking cigar. He fingered it for a moment, then turned and began pacing.

  “Well?” Griff persisted. “Is it because I’m Lorelei’s husband? Or maybe you don’t want to be embarrassed by your choice of a president? What is it, Orval?”

  The senator’s head snapped up, and the winged mustache lifted up in a smile. “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my given name. Do you realize that?”

  “Is it? I guess after all this time, I feel like family... real family.”

  “You are family, Griff. Who the hell gives a shit if you’re president of the United States, or a janitor? You’re my son-in-law, and if you make my daughter happy, that’s all that counts.” The old man hesitated, then looked at him with guilt gleaming in his eyes. “All right, so I did it. So what? And you want to know something else? I’ll always do it.” He was silent for a moment, then looked closely at Griff. “No, it’s not because you’re Lorelei’s husband, but because you’re... Edith’s son.”

  Griff’s forehead wrinkled up in a frown. “My mother? What does my mother have to do with any of this?”

  “We were lovers, Griff.”

  Griff’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

  The senator turned and began pacing again. “You didn’t know her when she was young. God, she was beautiful. All blonde and pale. She was so—I don’t know—radiant, I guess. She always looked like she had the sun shining inside her. She was petite and so vulnerable. She didn’t know she was beautiful—that’s what made her that way—beautiful, I mean. Not the lipstick, the paint, the ribbons in her hair. She was shy, Griff.” He turned to his son-in-law. “Did you know that about your mother?” He turned away again, thinking. “Shy, timid. The first time I had her, I felt like shouting my love for her.” He turned back toward Griff and answered the question he saw there. “No, you’re not my son, but you could have been. I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. About the time I started thinkin’ about marriage, that lecherous, skirt-chasing father of yours took her away from me.” The senator stopped pacing and gazed into space. “His name was Skylar Griffin Nyle. Sky, they called him. I remember the day he came strolling into town from up north. Dark, curly hair, blue eyes.” He looked over at Griff. “You’re the very image of that Yankee devil. He was conceited and arrogant.” He chuckled. “A lot like you, I’m afraid. He walked into town bigger’n life. He had his jacket swung across his back, his jeans so tight he could hardly move. He wore western boots, a cowboy hat, and his shirt sleeves was rolled all the way up on his arms. I remember it was hot that day. All the girls did a double take when they saw him, but the only one he wanted was my Edith.”

  He smiled and slid his eyes back toward Griff. “I watched you grow up, you know. Watched you grow up into the same kind of man your father was. Hell, if I’d had any sense in my head I would’ve hated you at first sight, but I couldn’t make myself do it. You weren’t only his son, but you were hers... and I knew you could have been mine. There’s a part of you that is your mother, you know, and that part is your saving grace. You may be bad, but you’re good, too. And it’s that goodness in you that always tries to do the right thing.” The senator laughed softly. “It may not always win out, but it tries.” He hesitated as he looked at Griff with love. “And that’s the main thing. Besides, I found out you had a deep-seated love for politics, and that kind of struck a chord deep down inside me. It was like I had a stake in you and your career after all. Your roommate at Yale was the son of a friend of mine. I arranged for him to bring you to the house.” He looked down at the bright tip of his cigar. “I took over from there. I understood the attraction Lorelei had to you. You were your daddy’s son, after all. I put you two together to keep you close to me.” His voice took on an emotional rasp. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say, is... I love you.” He cleared his throat as if embarrassed, then put the cigar in his mouth, plunged his hands in his pockets, went to the window and stared out of it. “Just like your daddy, you’re a filthy, lecherous, woman chaser, but what the hell... none of us are perfect.”

  When the senator turned and looked at Griff, his mouth was hanging open. “Close your mouth, son.” He frowned. “And shave off that miserable growth you call sexy.” His eyes darted over to Griff, wishing he’d say something. “Why in hell do I have to keep reminding you?”

  Griff slowly walked over to him, put out his hand, and smiled sheepishly. “I guess it’s about time I started callin’ you Dad.”

  Tears burned the senator’s eyes as he put out his hand and clasped Griff’s. But the two couldn’t manage to keep it so impersonal. They quickly embraced, both becoming emotional before they parted abruptly, keeping their faces hidden until the moisture disappeared from their eyes.

  “So what about Belle, your wife?” Griff asked.

  “She died in childbirth. You know that.”

  “No, I mean you and Belle. You must have loved her.”

  “Not really, at least not like I did Edith. Belle was good for my career. After a while, we became fairly close, but that’s about as far as it went.”

  “You mean you never...”

  “Oh, sure. A man has needs, but that’s all it was... physical. I guess I was always hoping that Edith would come back to me, but it never happened. Later, when Edith died, I just about died with her. That was a dream that was hard to give up.” He looked up at Griff and punched his cigar toward him. “You’re lucky, you know. Lorelei turned out to be your true love. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite so fortunate.”

  Griff frowned, thinking. “You know, sometimes I think about what it would have been like if I’d married Patricia.” He looked over at the senator. “You remember Patricia. She was the girl I was seeing back then. I gave you a pretty hard time, and if I’d had my way, me and Lorelei would’ve never gotten together.” Griff shivered thinking about it. “I suppose I should say thanks. Thanks for a lot of things.”

  The two men sat in the silent darkness of the room as the sun lowered, neither moving to turn on a light. The senator’s voice stole through the shadows. “Hell, Griff, after all the bad press you’ve had through your administration, you deserve a little praise. I know you don’t agree, but damn it, I don’t think you ought to ruin it. The people of America are ripe for a morale boost. Don’t take it away from them.”

  “If you think it’s best... Dad.”

  * * * *

  Cap backed out of the picture quietly, letting Griff enjoy his hero status. He went back to his small corner office full of large bay windows and puffed contentedly on his cigarettes. Then digging something out of his pocket, he sat back and unrolled several strips of film that had been edited out of the video. He had snatched them off the cutting room floor as soon as they fell because he didn’t want them getting into the wrong hands. He then took the lighted end of his cigarette and lazily touched it to the edges of the plastic poison and watched them until they slowly began to curl up from the heat. Getting a good fire going, he then
dropped them into his metal trash can and kept his eye on them until they burned away into oblivion, assured they would never be found by some ambitious reporter and used against the president.

  Leaning back comfortably before his big windows, he looked out and watched the sparkling lights of the city at night. When he wasn’t digging into somebody’s past, ducking bullets or beating some creep’s head in, it was his favorite thing to do. It called to mind the winding, curving oriental streets that held so much mystery. The slit of an almond eye could be beautiful on a woman, but on a man, it had the ability to give Cap a chill. Just then a coughing spasm hit him and he doubled over. He looked down at the smoking cigarette that was snuffing out his life, and knew his rasp was getting worse. Cap knew where he was headed, but also knew he had one more thing to do before he cashed in his chips—and it had everything to do with an off-the-cuff remark he had made to Griff.

  Hell, maybe someday I’ll even write a book.

  He had to admit the idea intrigued him, but couldn’t bring himself to consider it seriously. But there were times—like tonight—when looking out on streets that reminded him so much of his past, he wondered if it was possible. Whirling inside his head, the memories unfurled like a banner. It was everything he’d ever done in his life—every human being he’d ever known and every sea he’d ever sailed. In his mind, he heard the laughter and felt the fear, the anger, and even the passion he’d known. If only half the world knew what was out there in those foreign holes, they wouldn’t believe it. The men were far from home, lonely, and because they were weak, they would believe anything that was told to them. There were whores who picked the guys clean of their meager pay while whispering vile suggestions in their ears. Being without a woman so long, the men couldn’t resist, and with the pictures of their girls stuck deep in their wallets, they followed them into the deepest and darkest hole of all.

  Cap had thought many times that he might try the love and marriage bit, but he could never give up his first love—the sea. She may not have tits and a pussy, but she had what he wanted. Her perfume was the scent of salt air, her body was the sensual undulation of the water, and if he stared at it long enough, it could bring him to a raging climax. He swore he could see the image of her face below the rolling waves. A head full of floating sea weed, misty green eyes, and she always had her arms reaching out to him. She remained a mystery throughout his life—no name, no past, no present, and no future. She was just there for him whenever he wanted her.

  Now as he sat in front of his window night after night puffing away, the thought of putting it all down on paper continued to haunt him. He wanted to live it again—to go back and remember the way it was. Every second, every minute, every hour. He wanted to savor the taste of a stiff wind that embraced him sensuously, to feel the brush of tiny fingers when the surf that crashed against the side of the ship sprayed his face, to argue with Cook about the best way to prepare eel. The only way he knew to do that was to write it down. Dig down deep—remember the good times and the bad. The times he won and the times he lost. The times he was near death and how he had barely escaped.

  With his life still whirling around in his head, he ultimately pulled out his dusty old typewriter, knowing the time would never be completely right—not unless he made it right. He didn’t know a lot about good grammar or where to put all the commas, but he’d been telling stories all his life. It didn’t take much imagination to pretend he was sitting in a circle of his friends and telling them one of his many tales. Day and night, he sat at the noisy, clanking machine smoking and looking out into space, laughing out loud while remembering. Then he’d hunch back down over his typewriter and write a little more, day after day, page after page, chapter after chapter.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, Griff was still in the White House making day-to-day decisions and biding his time until he finished out his term, but all was not well. He and Lorelei couldn’t have been happier, but he agonized day after day because, like the rest of the country, Lorelei didn’t know the whole truth about his affair with Gabrielle. He also knew that there was every chance that if she did know, it would crush her, and his marriage would be over once and for all.

  The senator sat with Griff and listened as he confided in him.

  “Okay, so what if the rest of the country is in the dark,” Griff whispered. “I wish it could be different, but if it can’t, I can live with that. But, Senator, I can’t live with this lie between me and Lorelei. She has to know.”

  “Look, son, you know what might happen... hell, what probably will happen.”

  Raking his hand through his hair, Griff jumped up, then whirled back around to the senator. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of nothing else since all this has blown sky high?”

  “But, son...”

  “Senator, there was a time when I would take Lorelei any way that I could get her, but...” Griff agonized. “not like this. Not with a lie between us. I have to take the chance. If she hates me, I’ll just have to live with it. She can do anything she wants to me. Hit me, slap me, throw things, cry... hell, I’ll deserve anything she hands out. But we have to tell her and let her have her revenge if that’s the way it has to be.”

  The senator’s eyes widened when Griff continued.

  “I consider my love for her to be sacred, Senator, and if she comes to me in love, it’s got to be clean love, good love. I don’t want to share anything illicit with her. No lies, no dark corners.” Griff rubbed his face then swept his hands back over his hair. “Believe me, I’ve had enough of that.”

  The senator put his hand on Griff’s shoulder. “I knew I picked the right man for my daughter. You make me proud, son. Why don’t you let me talk to her? I’ll make her understand.”

  “The truth, right?”

  The senator raised his right hand teasingly. “I solemnly swear.” He looked around. “Where is she? Might as well get this out of the way.”

  “She’s in her bedroom resting.” Griff got a worried look on his face. “You don’t think this will hurt the baby, do you? I mean, it might be quite a shock.”

  “If I thought it would, I wouldn’t do it.” The senator gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Just let me handle it.”

  Griff watched him slip into the bedroom and sat back to wait.

  Nothing but silence.

  No shouting, no slamming of doors or drawers, and no bumping of suitcases as they are pulled from the closet—not even a raised voice.

  Becoming restless, he jumped up and began to pace while raking his hand through his hair over and over again. He looked out the window to get his mind on other things, but couldn’t seem to keep his focus off his watch. It had been so long that discouragement started to settle over him. The worst had happened. He looked up at the closed door and knew she must be behind it, packing.

  He sighed, and then turned away. He was about to leave when the door opened. Griff stopped in his tracks, turned and looked up expecting to see the senator, but he saw Lorelei instead. Her face appeared solemn as she looked at him. No big smile, no, Griff, suga’, and no sweet, soft body pressing against him. They both stood silent, their gazes locked, not a flicker in either one. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes seemed to turn into hours.

  Suddenly, a light from somewhere hit her just right, and he saw the telltale moisture of tears spread across her face. It hurt him to see it, and all he could do was whisper, “Oh, god, Lorelei, I’m so sorry.” He waited for her to react, to do something. He wanted her to yell at him, throw something, pound on his chest, anything but silence—hurtful silence. He was about to turn and leave when he saw her arms lift outward toward him. When it dawned on Griff what she was doing, he couldn’t believe it. “Lorelei,” he whispered, hurrying into her arms, crying.

  “Am I a fool, Griff?” she whispered.

  “Of course not, baby,” he said while raining kisses on her face.

  “Am I a fool for loving you?” she mumbled with his lips on hers. “Am I just
like all those women out there that love you... hang on your every word... worship you... adore you?”

  “You could never be like them,” Griff assured her as he wiped away his happy, thankful tears. “You’re my wife and I love you more than life itself.”

  While he held Lorelei in his arms, he looked up and saw the senator amble out of the bedroom, a look of love in his eyes when he saw them embracing. Apparently, the wise old man had come to Griff’s rescue one more time, and won.

  With a smile, a wink, and a thumb’s-up, he left.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later—

  It was late when Griff sat in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. After reading the last page of the book he’d received by special delivery, he turned it and saw a picture of old Cap Robertson on the inside of the dust cover. Griff smiled. It looked just like him—his chewed-up cap, stringy hair that never saw a barber, and his tattered old coat that anyone else would have quickly sent to the rag bag. His eyes became misty when he moved them downward and read the paragraph below.

  This bestseller was Cap Robertson’s first and final novel. He lived only long enough to see his book published and released before he died of lung cancer. Cap never got a chance to do a lot of things he wanted. He never finished high school because at an early age, he heard the mysterious call of faraway lands and joined the navy. He never married because the raging ocean with all its esoteric beauty became his mistress. Cap was the fabled sailor we have all heard about who has a woman in every port. Yes, the old sailor had many exciting adventures, but when his seagoing days were over, his memory was so full, he had to put it all down on paper. This book that chronicles his exciting life is due to go to the screen soon, and Cap himself will be portrayed by superstar Jack Nicholson. We will all miss the old seadog, as he was affectionately known, and this book, along with all of its success, is dedicated to his memory.