More blinking from Jillian, more staring at the ground. When she looked up at Beau again, she’d aged a thousand years and horror filled her face. “You had an affair with the woman we hired to get your butt out of the sling from the last time you cheated on me?”
Beau stood tall before his wife’s rising hysteria and faced her like a man. The only sign of emotion was the sheen of moisture over his bright eyes. “Yes.”
“Are you going to defend yourself?” Jillian screamed.
“We’ve had problems for a long time, Jill,” Beau said. “We’ve never dealt with them. It’s not about the other women—”
Jillian blanched. “So this is my fault?”
“Of course not,” Beau told her. “But I don’t know how to reach you anymore, Jill. You’ve shut yourself off ever since—”
“How dare you blame me?”
Beau stared at her. “I don’t know how to get you back, Jill. I don’t know where my wife has gone—and I need you.”
“We can’t get anything back.”
Beau stilled and John could almost smell the man’s fear. “What…what are you saying?”
Silence rang through the room for several long seconds, and then, with shaking hands, Jillian swiped at her tears, all business now.
“I want a divorce.”
“No,” Beau said.
“You need to resign,” Jillian told him. “Don’t put the party—or the state—through any more scandals.”
“Jill—”
“Do it now, so John can salvage the primary.”
“I’ll resign, but this marriage isn’t over. It’ll never be over.”
“It’s over now.”
“We still love each other, Jill,” Beau cried. “Even after everything we’ve been through. You know we still—”
“Our marriage is dead. You’ve killed it,” she said simply. “You’re so broken there’s nothing left to love. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
Beau couldn’t answer.
John watched the spouses stare at each other and witnessed the end of their marriage in those few seconds. He saw Jillian’s quiet fury and bottomless despair and read Beau’s desperation in the man’s tortured face.
He remembered their wedding day, the joy they’d all felt and the hopes for their bright future together, and then he remembered the dark times, the pain. What had happened to them? Where had all that happiness gone?
The chords strained in Beau’s neck as he struggled to hold his emotions in check; John wondered if Beau would survive a divorce. Jillian would, but Beau might well harm himself. Whether it was purposeful or not, Beau Taylor was his own worst enemy and always had been.
“I never want to see you again,” Jillian told her husband, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re dead to me.”
Beau’s lips twisted and he blinked furiously. Even John could see the valiant effort he put into not crying. He stared at his distraught wife, his gaze hungry and ruined.
“I’ll always love you, Jill. You’ll be the last thing I think about on my dying day. And it’ll never be over between us.”
He turned and, shoulders squared, left the library, leaving a hysterical Jillian to collapse, sobbing, in John’s arms.
“I’m pregnant. Jesus, God—I just came from the doctor.”
John gathered her tighter. As he had the day their mother died, John held her and told her a lie: that everything would be okay.
Chapter 20
Chapter 20
L iza sat at her sleeping father’s bedside and inventoried the indignities that had befallen this proud man in his old age. Alzheimer’s and the disappearance of a lifetime’s memories. The loss of his ability to care for himself. Now, pneumonia and the attendant oxygen cannula stuck up his nose and IV lines stuck in his frail arm. Restraints lashing his arms to the bed so he wouldn’t pull the needle out. A powder-blue gown that gaped open in the back and a hospital door that provided no privacy from the endless stream of medical personnel in and out of his room.
She wanted to bury her head in his blankets and weep for him—and for herself, for that matter—but crying was a waste of time and the Colonel needed her to be strong now.
After leaving the senator and the campaign in Richmond and taking the shuttle back to Washington, she’d come directly here, where she’d sat for most of the day rather than follow up on leads concerning the senator’s evolving scandal. She had no idea what was happening now and couldn’t bring herself to care.
Much.
Just then, the Colonel’s lids fluttered and opened and he stared at her with watery eyes sunken in his gray face. Dredging up a reassuring smile, she took his hand, which was a little too warm from the fever, and prayed for the oxygen to get some air into the man’s sick lungs and do it soon so his color would return to normal.
“Hello, Colonel.”
He blinked and focused his gaze. “What the hell happened, girl?”
“They brought you to the hospital. You have pneumonia, but you’ll be fine. You’re getting antibiotics and some oxygen.”
“Where’s Mama?”
Liza’s smile slipped. Some days it was harder than others to maintain the lie, and this was one of those days. But she was not going to tell her father over and over again, every time his memory failed, that his wife was dead and had been for decades. Wasn’t a kind lie better than that brand of pointlessly cruel honesty?
“Mama’s resting.” Resting in peace.
The Colonel grunted, looking dissatisfied with this answer, but he let the issue drop. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You look terrible.”
“I’m worried about you,” she tried.
“What else is wrong with you?”
Liza felt her chin quiver and firmed it. Blinking furiously—there was always something so unnerving about her father’s insight, even now—she tried to stay upbeat.
“Well, Colonel, I’ve gotten myself in a real mess this time.” She decided to tell him what had really happened because, hey, what were the chances that he’d remember later? “I fell in love with someone and I think he’s cheating on me.”
The Colonel, who’d been testing his restraints and trying to break free, stilled and stared at her with eyes that were suddenly as sharp and focused as they’d ever been.
“That guy who’s running for president? The senator?”
Surprised, Liza drew back. “Well…yes.”
The Colonel snorted and gave one hand as much of a dismissive wave as he could manage with the restraints and the IV. “That man’s not cheating on you, girl. Trust me. I’m a good judge of character and he’s a gentleman. Not like that jackass you married. You’ve got that senator’s nose so wide open he can’t see straight. Stop your worrying.”
Liza gaped at him, too stunned to reply.
Could it be true? It wasn’t a good idea to rely too much on an Alzheimer’s patient’s perceptions of reality, but the Colonel had always been a shrewd judge of character, and he had warned her in no uncertain terms not to marry Kent in the first place. Goodness knew he’d been right about that.
Could he be right about the senator?
“Where’s Mama?” he demanded again. “I’ve got to pee and someone needs to help me get these straps off.”
So much for his moment of lucidity.
If there was one good thing about her quitting her job, Liza decided, it was having more time for her father, who needed her now more than ever. How did she think she’d’ve managed his care if she’d had to move to New York to anchor the evening news? People managed their parents’ care long distance all the time, sure, but the guilt would’ve eaten her alive. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to go down that road now.
Getting to her feet, she rang for the nurse. “Mama can’t come,” she told him, “but I’ll get someone in here to help you.”
Following a fair amount of fussing and commotion, Liza grabbed her purse and left the room while someone came in to assist her father. She was just loiterin
g in the hall by the waiting area, wondering how long things would take, when Takashi, who was at the station, called on her cell phone.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said by way of greeting.
All Liza’s earlier turmoil came rushing back in a crashing wave. All kinds of terrible scenarios ran through her head as she headed for the waiting area, each more horrifying than the last:
Adena had confirmed her affair with the senator.
Three other married women had also admitted affairs with the senator.
The senator routinely had affairs with staffers.
The fact that none of these scenarios jibed with her observations about him did not keep her stomach from churning or her heart from skipping every other beat.
“First things first,” Takashi said. “How’s the Colonel?”
“Better. What’ve you got?”
“Well, I talked to Adena’s assistant, who wouldn’t say a thing, even off the record, and Adena’s spokesperson hasn’t returned any of my one thousand calls.”
“Oh.”
“I talked to my source with the senator’s private security firm, who, obviously, is speaking on condition of anonymity—”
Would this man please get to the point while they were still young? “Yeah, yeah, I know. He signed a confidentiality agreement and doesn’t want to be fired. So what?”
“I’ll tell you so what. It might interest you to know that even though it’s a poorly kept secret that the senator spent last night with you in the cottage at Heather Hill—”
Oh, God. Her face burned to cinders.
“—he swears that that’s the first time since they began working with the campaign back in October that he’s been with a woman. Except for the night he snuck out to your house, that is.”
Liza tried to process this information. “So…you’re telling me…what?”
“I’m telling you,” Takashi said, “that unless the senator is significantly better at sneaking around with Adena than he is at sneaking around with you, those pictures do not show a man with his mistress.”
“But…what do they show?”
But Liza already knew. Her gut was telling her, and so was the senator’s voice in her head: I was comforting her. Had he…actually told her the truth? Stunned at this inconceivable possibility, Liza collapsed in a chair and stared at the nearest coffee table with unfocused eyes.
John—funny how she thought of him as the senator when she wanted to keep him at a distance and John when her heart wouldn’t let her—hadn’t lied to her.
Relief washed over her, so blessed and powerful it would’ve knocked her on her butt if she’d been standing. Pressing a hand to her heart, she tried to keep it inside her chest, where it belonged.
“So what’s going on?” she wondered. “What’s the big scandal?”
“Aren’t you watching TV?”
“No.”
This seemed to be too much for Takashi, and she heard the exasperation in his voice. “Have you not been watching the news this afternoon while you’ve been sitting by your father’s bedside?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that? So I can drive myself crazy?”
“Crazier,” he muttered. “Turn on the TV.”
Liza punched a button on the wall-mounted TV, and an unbelievable scene came into vivid color focus. It was the governor—jerk—standing on the driveway of the governor’s mansion—flanked by several members of his staff. A bunch of reporters were shoving their microphones and digital voice recorders in his face.
Liza checked the red Breaking News crawl at the bottom of the screen, blinked and checked it again:
Governor of Virginia resigns amid cheating scandal.
Liza gasped. “Oh, my God.”
The governor had that Hall-of-Shame hangdog expression all over his guilt-ridden face, but his voice was strong. “—inexcusable behavior. I would like to apologize to the other family, which has been greatly affected by my selfish actions; to my wife, who did not deserve this betrayal; and to people of the great state of Virginia, who put their faith in me.”
He paused to take a deep breath and swipe at his nose. “Because I do not want my behavior to serve as a distraction to my state or to the party in this election year, I’ve tendered my resignation, effective as soon as Lieutenant Governor Bradshaw can be sworn in tomorrow morning. I’ll have no further statements.”
With that, the disgraced governor ignored the reporters’ shouted questions, turned and walked back up the driveway toward the mansion in the background. The coverage switched to the anchor back at the studio.
“Oh, my God,” Liza said. “Adena and the governor? Is this for real?”
“He hired her to dig him out of his hole the last time he cheated on his wife. Guess they made the most of all that quality time they spent together, eh?”
“I hope that was some good sex,” Liza said. “Because it’s cost him his career. Idiot.”
Takashi snorted. “I don’t get how another guy this smart could do something this stupid. I thought he’d run for president one day.”
“Where was Jillian? I didn’t see her waiting in the background and doing the dutiful, stand-by-your-man thing.”
“She did that the last time,” Takashi reminded her. “I’m betting this is it for her.”
“Oh, my God.” Liza knew exactly the sort of ugly scene that had to be going on inside the governor’s mansion right now. She’d lived it herself. “Poor Jillian. I don’t think she’s—wait. What’s this?”
She stared at the TV again, where the scene had changed and now showed an unsmiling Senator Warner striding across the tarmac with an overnight bag slung over one shoulder and something gripped in his hand. He impatiently paused for the reporters’ shouted questions and submitted to their microphones, lights and cameras being shoved in his face.
“We need to make this quick, guys,” he said. “I need to get back to Washington.”
“Senator, what’s your reaction to your brother-in-law’s resignation?”
The senator’s frown deepened. “I think he did the right thing, and I commend him on doing it so quickly. Obviously my thoughts are with my family now, my sister.”
“What about your senior adviser, Senator?” asked another reporter.
“As I’ve said before,” the senator said, his jaw tightening, “I’ve accepted Adena Brown’s resignation, and I wish her and her family the best. I don’t have any more comments about that.”
He edged toward the plane, but the reporters had one more question for him.
“Senator, we’ve been hearing rumors that a special relationship has sprung up between you and Liza Wilson. Would you care to comment about that?”
Liza’s jaw dropped. She watched a smile soften the corners of the senator’s eyes as he tried to control the beginnings of a grin. The many lights on his face illuminated the flush that crept up from his neck, and Liza knew that the whole world could see it.
Oh, God. The cat was out of the bag now, wasn’t it?
“Liza Wilson is a fine journalist,” the senator said, “and she’s had my butt in the fire for most of this campaign—”
The gathered reporters and Takashi laughed; Liza couldn’t breathe.
“—and you folks need to excuse me because I’ve got a call to make and a plane to catch.”
Then the senator waved goodbye and Liza saw the flash of his iPhone in his hand. A wider shot showed him striding across the tarmac and up the steps of the plane while simultaneously punching a couple of numbers and putting the phone to his ear.
The coverage was just switching back to the anchor in the studio when something happened that stopped Liza’s heart:
Her phone beeped, indicating she had another call.
She and Takashi both gasped. Neither of them spoke.
The phone beeped again.
Takashi recovered first and she heard the wry amusement in his voice. “I think that’s for you. You may want to answer it.”
“It’s John.”
“Hi,” she breathed.
“How are you, darlin’?” he asked, and she heard the smile in his voice, the huskiness just for her.
“Shaky.”
“How’s the Colonel?”
“How did—” she began.
“I know everything. How is he?”
“Better. But he’ll be in the hospital for several days while they give him intravenous antibiotics.”
“Good. Will you be home when I get there?”
“Get here?”
“I told you I was coming for you tonight.” There was a slight pause, during which she felt him silently dare her to deny or contradict him, but neither of those thoughts crossed her mind. “I’ll be in the motorcade. You don’t have any problems with that, do you?”
Liza’s pulse skittered.
This was not, she knew, a throwaway question. Her answer to this one query held both their futures. If she said yes, that she had a problem with it, then he’d probably sneak to her house as he’d done before. If she said no, no problem, and his motorcade pulled up in front of her house for the whole world to see, it was tantamount to a declaration of intent, an announcement that they were together and didn’t care who knew it.
Liza hesitated because this was a monumental turning point in her life and she wanted to give it the weight it deserved. But the answer was in her heart and had been almost since the second she first laid eyes on him.
She belonged with Jonathan Warner whether he lived in a van down by the river or the White House. He was hers and she was his. Period. The whole world needed to know, the sooner the better.
“Liza?”
“No,” she said. “No problem.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
L iza stayed at the hospital until the Colonel went to sleep for the night, and then she drove home. She’d barely showered and changed into another tank top-yoga pants combination when a commotion outside her front door announced the arrival of the senator’s motorcade.
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