“Guess you really told her off, huh?”
“I definitely did that,” I said stiffly. “That bitch deserved a lot more than getting slapped.”
Kes gave a surprised laugh.
“You slapped her?”
“Um, yeah? I guess Zach didn’t mention that bit.”
Kes laughed. “Damn! He skipped the best part!”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I said I slapped her twice?”
Kes nuzzled the top of my hair. “Best news I’ve had all day.”
“Second best,” I said happily.
I must have fallen asleep after that, because when Zach nudged me gently, bright sunshine was streaming into the room and spirals of dust circled lazily.
I was still splayed across Kes’s chest and his arms were curled around me. I unpeeled myself carefully, so as not to wake him.
I stretched out my spine, and then a dull ache that felt like guilt seeped into me because I knew Kes couldn’t do something so simple.
“Sorry,” Zach whispered when we’d crept out of the room. “You need to see this.”
And he handed me a copy of the New York Times.
“Oh my God!” I breathed out.
The Senator’s Shame—Minnesota Senator Andrew Hawkins and his secret family with a circus girl! Shelly Lendl had done everything she’d threatened to do; she published the whole sordid tale about Kes’s parents. It was on every news station, every website, trending on Twitter. Shelly Lendl was a celebrity, just like the people she’d hunted so ruthlessly.
Everything exploded in a frenzied flurry of phonecalls, emails, text messages. Kes was the silent eye at the center of the storm, unwilling to talk to anyone.
The Press had already gotten hold of his number, and I had to stop him from tossing his cell in the trashcan.
Some of them were even more aggressive and were calling my number, as well as Zef and Tucker.
Seymour Michaels phoned, offering to pay an undisclosed sum for the rights to film Kes’s ‘fight for survival.’ I passed the information to Zach who looked distinctly unimpressed, and then I turned off my phone.
Journalists were popping up everywhere, and Zach had to promise Kes to send Tucker and Zef to Safe Haven to act as temporary security for Kes’s mom and keep the photographers out. The nursing staff wasn’t equipped to deal with that level of interest, and getting trained professionals at short notice wasn’t easy. Con had been persuaded to stay in New York for now, but was adamant that he’d be visiting Kes early in January.
Zach was running interference at the hospital, along with their own security personnel. The Senator offered to send some of his men, even though he had enough problems of his own. I told Kes, but he didn’t comment on that.
Then we had another issue to deal with: Dr. Goldsmith was furious that Dr. Wrobel had advised against the operation. The two men had a huge disagreement in front of several nursing staff, until I cleared them out of Kes’s room. Dr. Goldsmith was adamant that his solution was the best; Dr. Wrobel stoutly defended what he called his “holistic therapeutic approach” as opposed to “butchers who only know how to wield a blade.”
It was unpleasant and stressful, making us wonder if we were doing the right thing. But the window of opportunity for Kes to have the operation was closing—I was secretly terrified that we’d chosen wrong.
I managed to shoo everyone out of Kes’s room after lunch that day. He was tired and stressed, but his body wouldn’t let him rest. Pains were shooting up from his legs. It was a good sign, but I could tell it was really hurting him because he’d broken out in a sweat.
Quietly, I picked up a washcloth from the small basin, soaked it in warm water, and wiped it over Kes’s face, neck and chest. His eyes followed the movements of my hand, until another nerve decided to ignite, sending sparks up and down his body.
His eyes clenched tightly shut.
I tried to think of something to say to distract him.
“How did it go with your father yesterday?”
He shot me a look as if to say, Are you kidding me?
“Sorry,” I winced.
We were interrupted by the man himself walking into the room.
Kes’s eyes flicked to mine accusingly.
“I didn’t know he was coming,” I said quickly.
“No, I wasn’t invited,” the Senator said with a small smile. “How are you today, Kestrel?”
Kes stared at him, his eyes flat and cold.
“Fucked up. How are you?”
“The same,” the Senator said with a grim chuckle. “My wife has left me, and to the Press and public I’m just another flawed politician.”
I didn’t know what to say, and Kes just grunted.
“You’ve come to the wrong fucking place if you want sympathy.”
“Do you always use language like that in front of your young lady?”
Kes pulled a face. “Do you think it’s a bit late for me to care what you think?”
“Touché,” said the Senator, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Kes hesitated, but the Senator sat down anyway.
“I’m sure Miss Andersen will have no compunction about asking me to leave if you so desire.”
I looked at Kes and he gave a small shake of his head.
“Thank you. How are you getting on with Paul Wrobel?”
“Yeah, he seems okay. He doesn’t think I should have the operation.”
The Senator nodded. “Yes, I’m aware. He called me earlier this morning. I just want you to know that I’ll cover your expenses for the forseeable furture, so you don’t need to concern yourself with that.”
Kes’s nostrils flared with anger.
“I don’t want your money.”
“You need my help, son. Take it.”
I could see Kes gritting his teeth, wanting to bite back the words, ‘I’m not your son,’ but he couldn’t.
“I don’t want it,” he said again.
The Senator sighed and looked down. “As you wish.”
I sat between them feeling twitchy, wondering if I should go and get coffee so they could be alone together. I was about to stand up when the Senator started talking.
“I owe you some explanations, Kestrel, if you’re willing to hear them?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kes said bitterly.
“No, but if you’d rather not hear what I need to say, I’d understand.”
“Maybe I should go and get coffee,” I volunteered, but Kes turned his head to frown at me.
“No.”
I sank back into my seat.
“I was 19 when I met your mother, Kestrel. She was so beautiful, so free. I imagined myself in love with her.”
“But you weren’t.”
The Senator sighed. “Truthfully, no, I don’t think so.”
Kes’s face hardened even further.
“I was in love with the idea of her,” the Senator continued. “Her lifestyle was so different to mine. My parents had—have—very traditional ideas. They had high expectations of me: Harvard, law school, political office. It was planned out for me from birth. I had to mix with the right people, marry the right woman. Maura was a breath of fresh air. When the carnival moved on, we didn’t keep in touch. But then one day, she called and told me that she was pregnant. I was terrified.”
The Senator glanced at Kes, but his eyes were fixed rigidly on the ceiling.
“Maura had this idea that we’d get married, but of course I couldn’t. My parents had already picked out candidates for a wife—a girl from the carnival wouldn’t have been suitable. And Maura would have been miserable in my world.”
“You never gave her the chance to fucking find out!” Kes said hotly.
“No, I didn’t,” the Senator agreed. “When Maura kept calling, I had to tell my parents. They decided that we’d pay her off.” He shrugged. “She didn’t want much. I realize now that she was still hoping we could . . . be together, I suppose. S
he couldn’t take my surname, so she named our son Falcon. I was vain enough to be pleased about that.
“But I was weak, too afraid to try and make it on my own, and I didn’t want to struggle. So I did what my parents wanted. But the following summer, Maura and I met up again. She was just as beautiful as ever, more so, I think. Motherhood suited her.”
Kes gave a derisory snort.
“I don’t blame you for having a low opinion of me,” the Senator went on, “but you can’t know what my life was like: there were expectations of me—generations of hopes and dreams pinned on me, weighing me down.”
“It didn’t stop you from fucking her again, did it!”
“Kes,” I whispered, taking his hand.
His lips were pressed together, white with fury.
“It’s quite alright, Miss Andersen. Kestrel is correct, however crudely he might express it. Maura represented freedom, and I craved that. She was like a drug to me. I saw her whenever I could, which wasn’t very often. Dono hated me, of course. Not that I blame him for that. But then she heard that I was married, and she became desperate. Well, I won’t go into the details, but that’s where you come into the picture.”
Kes’s hand was trembling, so I held it more tightly, running the fingers of my free hand over his wrist.
“When Barbara, my wife, found out that I’d fathered two illegitimate children, she threatened to leave me and take our daughter with her. Believe it or not, I love my daughter, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
I thought Kes was going to be physically sick.
The Senator finally raised his eyes to Kes and saw what the confession cost his youngest son.
“I don’t say this to wound you, Kestrel,” he said quietly, sincerely. “You deserve the truth. The biggest regret of my life will always be not getting to know my sons.” He struggled to continue. “I had a beautiful daughter, so I promised my wife I’d break it off with Maura once and for all. And I kept that promise. Maura . . . she didn’t cope well . . .”
“You don’t need to finish the story,” Kes ground out. “I was there for the fucking finale.”
“Yes, you were,” said the Senator quietly. “When Dono came to me and told me what had happened to her, that was the worst day of my life. So I paid for her care, even though . . . others . . . were concerned it would expose me. I wanted to do one thing right for her.”
We were all silent. My heart hurt when I saw a single tear fall down Kes’s cheek. I wiped it away with my fingers.
“I just wanted . . . I needed to tell you, Kestrel . . . I’m proud of you, son, and your brother. You’ve become fine men. Fine men.” Then he looked at me. “And you, Miss Andersen—you are a remarkable young woman . . . for making choices I couldn’t.”
Then he stood up, his head bowed.
“I don’t expect to be in your life, son, but if you ever need me . . . well . . . if you do, you know how to reach me.”
He hesitated, waiting, hoping perhaps, that Kes would acknowledge some of what he’d said. But Kes had a lifetime of believing that emotion made you weak, so he didn’t reply.
The Senator gave me a sad smile.
“Good luck, son,” he said, and then he left.
“Kes . . .”
“I can’t, Aimee,” he said. “Just . . . not now, okay?”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” he whispered.
I stayed a second night, sleeping on a chair in Kes’s room. But things were so crazy, I wasn’t sure the hospital was the best environment any longer for Kes to rest. People were constantly coming in and out of his room, and not just medical staff. I caught one photographer trying to sneak a picture of him, but managed to block the shot as he tried to shove past me. I yelled at him and he ran, getting away. He’d pretended he was visiting a patient. It was sickening. Or as Kes put it, “scum sucking bottom feeder.” Yep, what he said.
He was angry that he couldn’t toss the guy out on his ass, and he hated feeling so helpless. Hated it.
I tried to make light of it, saying that my new-found slapping skills would come in handy, but Kes just shot me a look that said nothing about this was amusing, so I concentrated on trying to get him to eat some lunch instead.
I forced myself to eat a bagel with cream cheese, and was watching Kes take a few bites of a sandwich, when I got a text from Jen.
“Everything okay?” Kes asked.
“I think so, but she says Mom is going batshit. I’d better give her a call. I’ll take it outside and get some air, okay?”
“Sure,” he said, staring out of the window and looking wistfully at the clouds scudding across the impossibly blue California sky.
“It won’t be forever,” I said, touching his hand lightly. “One day this will just be a bad dream.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile.
“Go talk to your mom. I’ll be fine.”
I gave him a quick kiss, because even though we’d managed to move on from the nightmare of my speaking to his father, he seemed a little distant.
One of the nurses had quietly explained to me that people with spinal injuries reacted in a number of different ways, one of which was to push people away. Like I needed to be told that.
“They’re also concerned about their ability to experience sex,” she said, a comment that set me back on my heels.
“Mr. Hawkins’ injury is less severe than many I’ve dealt with, but still, he’ll be having all those feelings of loss of control. And, um, excuse me for saying this, he seems like a very . . . very . . .”
“In charge, alpha, dominant, stubborn, pig-headed butthead with a high sex drive?”
“Well, not quite what I was going to say,” she laughed, “but close enough. Some patients respond with inappropriate sexual innuendos or explicit language. Some try and grab you.”
I was shocked. “Kes wouldn’t!”
“No, no, he hasn’t, I assure you. I’m just explaining that it’s not unusual for him to withdraw from any contact that seems . . . intimate. Even kissing. I’m sorry, but that’s how it can be.”
I’d appreciated her honesty, but it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.
I snuck out the back exit of the hospital. It was where the staff went when they wanted a cigarette break, even though smoking was banned on the grounds.
Mom was, predictably, getting ready to dive off of the deep end. I don’t know what bothered her most: the fact that Kes’s mom had an affair with a Senator, although he wasn’t in office at the time, or the fact that my boyfriend was connected to people in very high places. For now, at least. The Senator’s position was precarious, and various newspapers were predicting that he’d fall on his sword any day now.
But then she surprised me.
“How is Kestrel? This must be the last thing he needs when he’s already suffering.”
“It’s not easy, Mom, but he’s strong, and we’re together. Thank you for asking.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “He’s a very lucky man to have you. I hope he knows that.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered. “I love you.”
“Oh, Aimee,” she gasped.
That was it. We were both in tears. She was crying and apologizing. I was crying and promising that I forgave her. She even tentatively mentioned that she’d fly out to California, if the invitation still stood.
I wasn’t entirely sure about that, certainly not at the moment, but maybe in the future.
It felt good. I hadn’t forgotten the cruel things she’d said, but I thought I could let them go. At last.
When I finally cleaned myself up to look halfway presentable, I’d been gone almost an hour. I hoped that Kes had spent it sleeping, but when I walked into his room, a doctor was with him: a very young, beautiful blonde woman in dark blue scrubs.
There was something personal about the way the doctor was looking at Kes. My hackles rose when she took his hand between hers and smile
d at him. He seemed surprised, but didn’t pull his hand away, and my heart shuddered.
Then she saw me. She didn’t seem guilty—in fact she smiled at me.
“Hi, you must be Aimee. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Tera Chastain Hawkins, but everyone calls me TC. I’m Kestrel’s sister.”
Her smile was self-conscious and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “Well, half-sister. It’s so good to meet you—both of you.”
We shook hands and I went to perch on the side of Kes’s bed. He reached up to take my hand and I held it loosely in my lap.
“So, this is weird,” she said, shaking her head a little. “I always wanted brothers, and now I have two.”
She laughed sadly and I felt sorry for her. I knew what it felt like to find out that your father is a cheat.
“Mom’s mad at him,” she went on, “but she’ll take him back. She wouldn’t know how to live without him.”
Kes’s expression hardened and TC’s pink cheeks turned scarlet.
“Ugh, sorry. That was thoughtless. Wow, this is hard.”
“Are you a doctor?” I asked, nodding at her blue scrubs.
“Oh no,” she chuckled, seeming relieved at the change of topic. “But Jerry, dad’s main bodyguard—you know, the one who looks like he was set in concrete?”
“We’ve met,” I said.
“Of course,” she sighed. “Jerry said it would be easier for me to get in without being spotted if I was in disguise. I’m a graduate student. I’m just finishing my Masters’ degree at UCLA: Pol Sci,” and she gave an embarrassed laugh. “I thought I’d be following in Dad’s footsteps, but now . . . but, hey, I’ll get a ton of cool points for having a brother who’s a stuntman! Maybe I could come see your show when you’re better?”
Kes’s body tensed.
“We don’t know when that will be,” I answered for him.
And the truth was, we had no idea what level of mobility Kes would have, let alone whether or not he’d ever be able to return to his former career.
TC’s cheeks flamed even hotter.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to . . . can I come and visit you here again? Would you mind?”
Kes glanced at me before he turned his head toward her.
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