by Lynn Ames
“Been there, done that,” Lorraine said. “Yes, and we often take it out on the ones we love the most.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“I don’t really know. Maybe it’s because they’re more understanding than anybody else. Maybe it’s because they’re right in front of us. Maybe it’s because we trust them not to turn tail and run when we lash out.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” Jay said. “But maybe you’re right.” She vaulted over a log that was blocking the path.
“You’ve been under a lot of pressure. It’s no wonder you’re feeling out of sorts.”
Jay considered. “That’s no excuse. Besides, my crabbiness pre-dates the whole hacking business.”
“You want to try to trace it back? Figure out what was going on in your life when you started feeling this way?”
When had it begun? What had happened before the trip to LA for the GLAAD Awards? “I finished writing the book and sent it to Jeremy in January.”
“That must’ve felt great.”
“You know? This one wasn’t like my other books. Every other time I’ve turned in a manuscript, I’ve felt a sense of accomplishment and pride.”
“And this time?”
The trail opened up, revealing a sparkling lake. Jay walked over to a large boulder perched at the water’s edge, hopped up onto it, and scooted over to make room for Lorraine.
“This time was different. I finished self-editing, hit Send, and felt…exposed.” The realization surprised Jay, but it was true.
“Exposed, how?”
“The story was so personal, so close.”
A great blue heron glided across the lake, and Jay marveled, as she always did, at the magic and majesty of nature.
“You’ve written other autobiographical or semi-autobiographical books. I loved Bittersweet Rhapsody. Wasn’t that all about coping with your sister’s death when you were so little and the ways in which that tragedy dramatically altered the dynamics in your family?”
“It was.”
“That was less personal than writing about the Commission?”
Jay pulled a bottle of water out of her pack and took a drink. “I guess I was far enough removed from my childhood that the emotional impact was less. The effect on Kate of those few months when she believed I’d been killed, what it did to her psychologically, then seeing Peter lying near death, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the chest… Those things are indelibly etched on my brain. Even though this book was fiction, to make the book all that it needed to be, I had to take myself back there, immerse myself in all those emotions all over again. I spent months reliving every detail of that time, ad nauseam.”
Lorraine skipped a stone across the water. “You know Peter and I still have nightmares about the shootout at the Lincoln Monument too. At least once a month, one or the other of us wakes up in a cold sweat.”
“But that was how you met. Something beautiful came of all that for you two.”
“You and Kate found your respective ways back to each other in the middle of all of the mayhem. One could argue everything turned out well for you too.”
“Nobody came out of that situation unscathed. I’m still haunted by so many memories.”
“Then why write the book?”
Jay’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know the answer to that. Because we all agreed that exposing the Commission, even a fictionalized version, was the only way to raise public awareness and shine light in the dark corners. The public needs to know that organizations like that really exist, that their reach is pervasive, and that they operate with impunity.”
“Not at your expense, Jay. We didn’t agree that the book was more important than your emotional well-being or your marriage.”
Jay’s heart pounded hard against her ribcage. “My marriage isn’t in jeopardy.” Is it?
“Of course not. That was inelegant phrasing. I only meant— Well, you know what I meant.”
Jay took another drink of water and offered the bottle to Lorraine. “Want some?”
“I’ve got my own, thanks. So, let’s review. Your unease started when you sent the book to your editor.”
Jay scrunched up her nose. “In the interest of accuracy, my discomfort began when I started writing the book. It only escalated when I submitted the manuscript.”
“No doubt all that was exacerbated by the security leak and the fiasco with your publisher.”
Jay couldn’t argue with that. But the truth of it didn’t sit well with her. She was better than this—stronger than this. “You know, I’ve been through tougher times than this and not gone over the edge. Heck, Kate and I together have been through worse. It’s never affected me like this before. Why now?”
“Good question. What’s different?”
Jay narrowed her eyes in thought. “I’m not sure. The older I get, the more friends I lose to tragedy or illness, the more I realize how precious life really is. I don’t want to waste a single day, a single minute on stuff that doesn’t enrich my life. Does that make sense?”
Lorraine nodded. “It does. Would you argue that writing this novel, exposing the Commission, isn’t an important and vital thing to do?”
“No. Not at all. But reliving the Machiavellian machinations and manipulations, the worst aspects of human nature, didn’t personally enrich me either.”
“Then what we’re really saying is that you got stuck in a dark place and you forgot to come back out of the cave into the sunlight.” Lorraine skipped another rock. “Nice alliteration, by the way. You get extra points for that.”
“Thank you.” Jay smiled and the very act of it made her feel lighter. “For everything.”
Lorraine gestured to the sun and wrapped an arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Time to come to the light, Jedi warrior.”
The Star Wars reference startled a laugh out of Jay. “I agree.” For the first time in longer than she wanted to admit, she was anxious to get home and see Kate. There was so much she wanted to say to her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dara gazed out over the expanse of Central Park West. Joggers moved along the trail, occasionally jumping aside to avoid being run over by impertinent bicyclists. Several softball games were underway. Here and there the lawn was dotted with colorful picnic blankets peopled alternatively by lovers and families.
The scene should have been comfortingly familiar to her. After all, Dara grew up in the shadow of this city. But it had never felt like home to her—it never was comfortable in the way she believed home should be. “That’s because you couldn’t wait to get out of your parents’ cold, judgmental house.”
“Ms. Thomas?”
Dara breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve from burgeoning memories. She retreated to Carolyn’s desk and pressed the intercom button to answer the receptionist. “Yes, Gayle?”
“Ms. Kyle is here to see you.”
“Send her in, please.”
A moment later, the door opened and Kate strode into the room. She was dressed casually in a pair of worn jeans, an un-tucked black button-down collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of scuffed black boots.
Dara crossed the room and gave Kate a hug. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too.” Kate surveyed her surroundings. “Is that you?” She pointed to a framed theater poster on the wall.
“It is. I got my first break in a play in Williamstown, Massachusetts. That was the first time Carolyn represented me.” Dara sat down in one of two wingback chairs in the sitting area near the windows and motioned for Kate to take the other chair.
“I’ve been to the Williamstown Theater many times. It’s a great place to see a show.”
“It’s a great stage on which to act. I got lucky and landed an understudy role that turned into something more.”
Kate laughed. “I’d say that’s a gross understatement. What brings you to New York?”
“Honestly? You.”
Kate’s eyes grew wide.
“Me?”
“Yes.” Dara measured her words carefully. “Or, more accurately, you and Jay. But I wanted to talk to you alone first.” She could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of something akin to…what? Sadness? Pain? Discomfort? Just as quickly, it was gone.
“What can we do for you?”
“It isn’t anything like that.” Kate crossed her arms over her chest, her unease so palpable that Dara hesitated. Maybe this was a mistake. You brought her here, too late to back out now. “I… That is, Rebecca and I, have a proposal for Jay. But we weren’t sure how she would feel about it, and we certainly didn’t want to step on any toes, so we decided that it would be best for me to run it by you first.”
Kate shifted in her seat. “If whatever you want to talk about affects Jay, you should probably speak directly to her.”
“We will,” Dara said. “But, as I said, I don’t want to bring something to her that might potentially offend her or make her uncomfortable. I hoped that you would hear me out and give me your take on it.” When Kate didn’t immediately answer her, Dara added, “I’m sorry. Perhaps we were wrong in our approach.”
“No.” Kate shook her head. “No. It’s okay.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “It’s just… As you might imagine, Jay’s been under a lot of pressure lately. We both have. She’s got so little control over so much of what is happening. As much as I want to protect her, I have to recognize that she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. That means I have to give her the space to make her own choices.”
“Understood. I promise you that nothing we discuss today will take that away from her. Rebecca and I both have tremendous respect for Jay… and for you. We talk about you often and about how much we enjoyed meeting and spending time with you. We’re both heartsick over what we’ve read about Jay’s situation with the book.”
“Thank you. The whole thing makes my blood boil.”
“No doubt.”
“And for the record, Jay and I are equally glad to know you and Rebecca.”
“Thank you. I sincerely hope we’ll have a lot more time to get acquainted, which brings me to the topic at hand.”
Kate arched an eyebrow.
“What if…” Dara chose her words with care. “What if Jay stopped trying to get the book published?”
“I don’t—”
Dara held up a hand. “Hear me out first.”
“Okay.”
“What if, instead of trying to find a publisher, Jay optioned the manuscript as a film and took it directly to the big screen?”
“I’m not sure—”
“All I’m asking you is if you think Jay would be open to talking to us about going directly to film? I know you don’t want to answer for her on the merits of the idea. I just want to know if you think she’d be willing to have a discussion, or if she would find it off-putting?”
Kate briefly stared off into space, her expression unreadable. Dara resisted the urge to keep talking, to elaborate. The silence lingered in the air between them.
Finally, Kate refocused on Dara. “Jay and I have been batting around all sorts of publishing options. It never occurred to either one of us to consider using another medium to get the work out.”
“Is it something you think might appeal to her? Something she’d entertain?”
“Ask her.”
“She won’t be offended?”
“On what grounds?”
“We wouldn’t want it to come off as though we don’t think Jay can get the book published—like we don’t have faith in her ability to rise above all this and succeed.”
Kate smiled. “No. She wouldn’t look at what you’re suggesting that way. She’d be more likely to assume that she had really cool new friends who believed in her and her work and had her back.”
Dara relaxed for the first time since the meeting started. “That’s good, because we do. When do you think the two of you would be free to sit down and talk? Do you think you’d have any availability while I’m still on this coast? It might be easier to fly under the radar here than in LA.”
Kate again shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Why don’t you give Jay a call and ask her? As I said, this is hers to do. I would only attend if she wanted me to be there.”
Dara badly wanted to ask Kate if something was wrong. This was not the same confident, take-charge woman Dara saw in LA. That Kate would’ve pulled up her calendar and set the meeting. That Kate would’ve spoken with authority on Jay’s behalf.
What had changed? It’s not your business. Leave it alone. Belatedly, Dara realized she hadn’t said anything out loud. “Right. Should I call now? Or wait until later?”
“She’s off hiking with a friend today. I don’t know that she’ll have cell signal. I’d wait.”
“Sure.” Dara checked her watch; Kate had spent three hours on the train to get to New York and they’d talked for less than an hour. Well, here’s an opportunity to get to know her better. “It’s crazy for you to have come all this way just to turn around and go back. You said Jay has plans today, right? Are you hungry? I skipped breakfast and I’m famished.”
“Me too.”
“Lunch?”
“Sure. I’ve got time. You pick the place.”
Dara pointed out the window. “What do you think about grabbing a couple of deli sandwiches and eating in the park? It’s a beautiful day out there.”
“Perfect.”
“I remember reading in the history books about the Hyland affair.” Dara speared her dill pickle with a plastic fork and took a bite.
“Oh, my God. You have no idea how old that makes me feel,” Kate said. She unwrapped her roast beef sandwich and took a bite.
Dara blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. Let me see if I can dig my way out of this.”
“I don’t think so.” Kate laughed. “How old were you in 1989?”
Dara’s color deepened. “Five?”
“Five? Five?” Kate dramatically put a hand to her heart. “I have jeans that are older than you.”
“Well, if you do, they’re probably back in style now.”
“Watch it, whippersnapper.”
“Okay, Grandma.”
“Hey! I’m old enough to be your mother, not your grandmother. Don’t push it.” Kate took another bite of her sandwich and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She liked Dara. She was down-to-earth, fun, easy to talk to, and clearly not impressed by her own fame.
“Fair enough. Anyway, what I was trying to say, albeit inelegantly, is that I know a little bit about your background. I know that you were the President’s press secretary. In fact, I’ve seen television clips of you handling the media at various press conferences. You were impressive.”
“Thanks. I don’t miss those days.”
Dara finished off her pickle. “I imagine you didn’t get much sleep in that job.”
Kate shook her head. “Not much. I can’t remember a single night when the phone didn’t ring and wake me up at least once.”
“I bet. What did you do after you left the White House?”
Kate stared off into the distance and watched a flock of robins take off from a patch of grass and land in a nearby willow tree.
“I— I’m sorry. Was that a bad question to ask?”
Kate cleared her throat. “Why would you think that?”
“The expression on your face. It seemed as if wherever you just went, it was a painful place.”
“Mmm.”
“You don’t have to answer if—”
“No. It’s okay.” Kate waved Dara off. What should she say? How much should she reveal? She took another bite of the sandwich, trying to order her thoughts. “Did you enjoy history in school, Dara?”
Dara eyed Kate quizzically.
“Not where you thought this was going, I take it. Bear with me.”
“Actually, I love history. I took a couple of twentieth century American history classes and two political science courses whe
n I was at Yale.”
“You did?”
Dara nodded. “You’re surprised.”
“More like impressed.”
“I didn’t just want to study drama. I believe it’s important to understand the world around us. Where we’re going as a society is predicated on where we’ve been. You can’t have one without first having the other.”
“True enough.” Kate finished the first half of her sandwich and opened her bag of chips.
“The first course was on the American presidency. The other course was titled, ‘Press, Politics, and Policy.’”
“Huh. Interesting choices.”
Dara swallowed a bite of her turkey, lettuce, tomato, and cheese on rye. “Would you not agree that the American presidency and politics are at the core of this country’s historical fabric? That to truly understand the events of the last century, or any century since the founding of these United States, one must understand the politics of the time?”
Kate wondered how many people underestimated Dara and thought she was just a pretty face. This was a woman of depth and substance. “I completely agree.” Kate licked the salt from the chips off her fingers and set aside the bag. “And in a way, that’s where I was going with my question.
“You said you studied the Hyland affair in school. The truth is, you studied what the powers that be wanted you to know about the incident. The whole truth, including the nuances of the politics behind the events, goes far beyond what the public ever was told.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“That’s primarily what this whole business with Jay’s book and the leaked documents is all about. It’s about shining light versus keeping secrets and allowing darkness to flourish.”
“Although we haven’t spoken about the substance of Jay’s book, I’m assuming that the idea behind it was to shine light. Hence the level of scrutiny and pressure both on Time magazine and the man the government is hunting with regard to the leak, and on Black Quill. That’s the real reason Jay is having trouble getting the book out, isn’t it? The book tells the rest of the story? The parts that aren’t in the history books?”
“Jay’s book is fiction with factual underpinnings.”
“That was a careful way to put it.” Dara finished the rest of her sandwich, rolled up the wax paper wrapping, and stuffed it in the carryout bag.