He sets his cup and saucer on the coffee table. With a cautious expression, he asks, “What about her?”
“Was it hard when you started dating her? Like, were your parents mad?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. They didn’t want me fooling around with a member of our staff. It took me a while to convince them I was serious about Savannah.” He pauses and picks up his coffee cup again. “It also took me a while to realize I was serious about her.”
“But it’s been worth it?”
He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I mean, we’ve been dating almost two years, and we still can’t keep our hands to ourselves.”
“TMI.”
He laughs, but the mood turns solemn again. “Why are you asking about this? Is it something to do with Ezra? I heard you’re dating.”
“We’re dating, yeah, but that’s not why I’m asking.” I sip my coffee. “I just…how did you go up against your parents like that? How did you get the courage?”
“It wasn’t easy. I had to lay it all out there. I had to tell them it didn’t matter what they thought, that I was going to date Savannah.”
“Were you scared to talk to your parents?”
“I was so scared, I didn’t speak up for weeks, and I nearly lost Savannah in the process. I hesitated about going public with our relationship, and she wouldn’t put up with that.” He smiles, looking out the window, as if lost in a memory. Then he shakes his head. “Tell me what’s up, Tee. Why are you asking about this?”
“I’ve been thinking about my future. Everyone in my family went to Ivy League schools, and Oliver and Jenna are going to work at the firm. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do that.” I take a deep breath. “The application for Yale’s early decision was due yesterday, and I didn’t turn mine in… I don’t know how my parents will react when I tell them.”
“They’re good people. I think you could be upfront with them.”
“Even after all the trouble I’ve caused with my father’s campaign?”
He sips from his coffee cup, thinking. “Last winter, my mom had lunch with the governor’s wife. All Mrs. Harrington wanted to talk about was how I was dating one of our jockeys and how odd that was.” I expect to hear anger in Jack’s voice, but it’s calm. “By the time summer rolled around, Mrs. Harrington couldn’t wait to meet Savannah and introduce her to her daughters. She thought Savannah would be a good role model for feminism or something.” Jack smiles at that.
“So Mrs. Harrington got over it?”
“Some people just don’t like change, and it takes time for them to accept it. They’ve gotten used to me dating Savannah. After a while, no one cared anymore. At least not the people who really matter, like my mom and dad. They came to understand how much I love Savannah.”
I think of Ezra. Will people get used to him doing construction instead of joining the family business? Will they grow to accept it? I certainly have, because it makes him happy. Even though I wish he’d reconsider, I respect his wishes.
“Your advice is to just come clean? Let my family know I’m a big ole mess and have no direction?”
Jack smiles. “Yeah, and the sooner the better. Then you can start figuring out what you want to do instead of worrying about what your parents will say and pretending everything is fine. Just come clean.”
• • •
Jack walks me out to my car and opens the door for me.
He gives me a quick hug. “Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“Will do.” I slide into the driver’s seat, and he shuts the door. I wave good-bye to him as he heads toward the pasture to help round up the horses; the sun is beginning to set into a haze of gold and purple. After talking with Jack, I’m still scared to veer from the path I’ve been on for years, but the desire to take control of my life outweighs that fear.
First things first: I send Dad a text. I really need to see you. Can we please talk?
Then I turn the key, start my engine, and drive home. Once I’m in my driveway, I check my phone and see I have a bunch of missed calls from Dad. He didn’t leave a voice mail, but he did send a text.
Can you please come home? I’m here.
I take a deep, quivering breath and clutch my phone in my hands, relieved that Dad wants to talk to me. For him to go two days without speaking to me just about broke my heart.
With three days until the election, I’m surprised Dad’s at home this evening. When I arrive in his study, the door is open, and he’s sitting in his armchair by the fire, nursing a scotch.
“Dad?”
He waves for me to enter and gestures at the couch for me to sit down. After a moment, Dad joins me, bringing his drink with him.
“This must’ve been a rough couple months, huh?” he asks.
“The worst.” A few tears leak out. “I worried you weren’t going to talk to me again.”
He pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry. Your mom and I needed time to think about what you did. All of this is so unlike you, Tee.”
“I know…”
“Why did you cover for Ben?”
“His parents don’t have a lot of money, and going to St. Andrew’s was his big chance.”
“If he hadn’t been your boyfriend, would you have covered for him?” Dad asks.
I carefully consider the question. “I think I would’ve tried to help any of my friends. But I didn’t think it would get so out of control… I know now that I should have told the truth from the start. I’m so sorry about your campaign, Dad. So sorry. I wanted to come forward and tell you what happened, but I thought it would just make the situation worse.”
“Your instincts are right. It’s too late to do anything about the election now. Any statement we put out will look like a last-ditch effort to win back voters.”
I nod, continuing to cry, and Dad pats my back.
“I know I shouldn’t start our conversation this way,” I say, “but I have to, because I need to get this off my chest. I’m really upset with you, Dad.”
He goes still.
“I’ve been killing myself at school for years. And it’s like the minute I made one mistake, you were so ashamed, you didn’t want to be seen with me anymore. You never once asked me to join you at a campaign event, and that made me feel like I wasn’t part of the family—like you weren’t proud of me. I’m really sorry for what I did, but it was even worse knowing that you and Mom were so pissed you didn’t want me by your sides anymore.”
His eyes never leave mine as I pour out my soul.
“I make great grades all the time, and my SAT score was almost perfect, even though math is hard for me. I was exhausted all the time because I took on so many activities, and you didn’t even mention my hard work in your campaign commercial! In it, you were so proud of Jenna and Oliver, but it was as if I didn’t exist. That hurt so bad, Dad.” My voice is high pitched and shaky. He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.
I pull a deep breath. “I didn’t send in my Yale application.”
Dad’s eyes widen. “You didn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure why I should, other than that it was expected of me. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”
“You have to start somewhere. Why not Yale? It’s a good liberal arts school. Besides, I thought you wanted to be an analyst at your grandfather’s firm.”
“I only said that because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. But, Dad, I don’t have any interest in investing. I don’t even like math.”
He pauses at the bombshell I just dropped. “Well, what do you like?”
“Museums, soccer, animals, coffee. Ezra.”
The corner of Dad’s mouth lifts into a small smile. “Well, you absolutely cannot major in Ezra Carmichael. I forbid it.”
I chuckle at his joke. “But what about the r
est?”
“Tee, the reason I’ve always pushed you so hard is so you’ll have options.”
“I hate staying up so late to study. I feel like it’s all I do. And I’m worried if I go to Yale, it would be more of the same. I’m not lazy…I’m just…tired.”
For a moment, I wonder if I should copy Chloe and take a year off between high school and college, but that doesn’t feel right for me. I need to do something.
“Shouldn’t I have some idea of what I want to do before you spend all that money on college?” I ask.
“Honestly, Tee, you’ve got time to figure that out. Some days, I’m not sure what I want to do either, and I’m sixty years old. But I’m not sorry I’ve pushed you. You are so smart and so wonderful, and I want you to have all the options in the world.”
My eyes water at his words.
I get what he’s saying. But at the same time, I’ve been pushing myself so hard for so long that I resorted to pills to make it through. I never get eight hours of sleep. Is getting into the best school really worth it? I don’t know. I really don’t.
My eye twitches. I rush to cover it up with my hand.
“You should get some rest,” Dad says, squeezing my shoulder. “Take a nap before dinner.”
“Dad? If I didn’t go to Yale, would you hate me?”
“Of course not. I’ll always love you. But I’d want to know what you’d plan to do instead.”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure other colleges would take me with my grades and test scores.” I puff out my chest in an imitation of Dad. “I’m so smart and so wonderful, and I will have all the options in the world.”
He throws his head back to laugh. “Would you stop teasing me already?”
I give him a hug. “One of the good parts of being at Hundred Oaks is getting to be at home. I’m glad we’re spending more time together, Dad.”
My father gives me a sad smile. “Me too, Tee.”
Election Day
In ninth grade, I worried that Madison and Steph were growing closer and that they didn’t need me as a friend anymore. To feed my bruised ego, I started hanging around Gabriella, this girl from Spain who was glamorous and sophisticated. I wanted her to like me because I thought that would mean I was also glamorous and sophisticated. To get her attention, I told her things I shouldn’t have, like that Madison had a crush on the basketball team’s senior forward. Gabriella thought that a freshman having a crush on one of the most popular guys in school was funny and told just about everyone.
When he heard the gossip, the senior went up to Madison in the dining hall, patted her on the head, and said, “I’m flattered, but you’re too young for me.”
The embarrassment turned Madison’s face purple.
She knew it was my fault, and for a while after the head-patting incident, I dreaded seeing her. I avoided her in the halls. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face. I wanted to crawl into a hidey-hole and never come out. But I apologized, and she forgave me, but that shame didn’t just dissolve. It stuck around.
That’s what I feel like on Election Day.
Six years ago, the last time Dad was up for reelection, I remember freaking out because mean girls at school kept saying, “If your daddy doesn’t win, he’ll lose his job!” That kept me up at night. I didn’t understand that he could always go back to work for my grandfather’s firm.
It wasn’t the end of the world.
But today feels like the end of the world. Because regardless of whether or not he wins, his reputation will never be the same, thanks to me.
After school, Ezra and I head to Nashville to join my parents, Oliver, and Jenna for the election results.
Ezra looks over at me from the driver’s seat. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
We drive to the Opryland Hotel, where Dad’s campaign rented out a ballroom. Tons of his supporters are here, waiting for the results that will come in over the next several hours. I take a peek inside to find an explosion of red, white, and blue balloons. Fun dance music is playing, and people seem to be having a great time.
Mom, my brother and sister, Dad, and his immediate staff have gathered in a smaller room next door. Unlike the ballroom, there is no party going on here. It feels like a funeral.
When Jenna and Oliver see we’re here, they stand up. Oliver pats me on the back and shakes Ezra’s hand, while Jenna gives Ezra a hug.
“Ezra, it’s so good to see you,” Jenna says in a sultry voice, her fingertips touching his chest.
“Well, aren’t you handsy as ever,” Ezra replies, extracting himself from her grip.
“Sometimes I worry you’re a succubus,” I tell her.
She winks. “Can you blame me? Your boyfriend’s hot.”
“That he is.”
According to the TV, Dad is ahead. I bounce up and down on my toes at that.
Camera crews from CNN, MSNBC, AP, and a bunch of other news outlets are here to film Dad watching the results. A publicist from the campaign tells the camera guys, “No footage of Taylor, got it?”
Talk about things I thought I’d never hear. I mean, I get it. People will be voting over the next several hours, so it’s best not to remind them that I exist. Still, I can feel my face getting redder and redder.
I sit down on a sofa near a television. Ezra gets me some crackers and water, but I’m too nervous to eat. All I can do is watch the results. Right now, with forty percent of precincts reporting, Dad is winning sixty-two percent to Wallace’s thirty-five. Other candidates account for the remaining three percent.
I inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. I can’t stop biting my thumbnail. After about an hour of watching results, it’s ragged, and the polish is chipped off.
Ezra grabs my hand and kisses it, twining our fingers together. He leans over to whisper in my ear, “I’m here with you.”
I nod and try to smile, but it hurts my face.
Over the next hour, Dad’s lead falls from sixty-two to fifty-five percent. Wallace is gaining. Whenever I look over at Mom, she has a fake smile pasted on her face for the media.
Dad walks by me a few times and squeezes my shoulder, showing he still loves me. Part of me wishes I could go hide somewhere, but I got us into this mess.
I have to face it. I have to stand tall.
The room grows quiet when polls close at eight o’clock, and the next report shows Dad and Wallace are tied at forty-eight percent. Eighty percent of precincts have reported. I cross all my fingers. I start making promises in my mind. If Dad wins, I’ll never lie again. I’ll be a good girl forever. I’ll do whatever my parents say.
An hour later, and with ninety-three percent of precincts reporting, the race is still too close to call. Mom and Dad are holding hands tightly, unable to tear their eyes from the TV. Jenna looks up at the ceiling, her lips moving as if she’s talking to herself, doing math in her head, calculating our odds of success tonight. Oliver crosses his legs, shaking his ankle.
Then at nine thirty, the news says all precincts have reported:
Wallace pulled ahead by two percent.
With mouths gaping, Randy and Kevin look like they just found out the moon landings weren’t real. Honestly, prior to me getting kicked out of school, that would’ve been more likely than Dad losing the election.
My brother stares down at his folded hands. Jenna’s mouth hangs open.
Mom tries to keep a strong front, but tears roll down her cheeks. Being a senator’s wife—working with Tennesseans and volunteering—has been her job for eighteen years.
Dad lost the election, and it is all my fault. I let out a sob.
Dad reaches a hand toward me, and I go sit with him on the couch. “It’s okay, Tee. It’s not the end of the world.”
“But it’s your job.
I’m so sorry, Dad.”
“I know.” He wraps an arm around me and kisses my temple.
I wipe away the tear rolling down my cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Senator?” Randy says to Dad, still looking shell-shocked. “We need you to address the crowd.”
Dad gives me a small smile and pats my knee. “Time for me to get back to work.”
• • •
The morning after the election, Mom and Dad are up early to take Jenna to the airport so she doesn’t miss her afternoon classes. I go out to the front porch and wave as they are pulling out of the garage. My parents wave back, but my sister flips me off, then follows with a thumbs-up. I return the thumbs-up and roll my eyes.
Back inside, I climb the stairs to Oliver’s room. He’s heading for the airport later this afternoon, and I don’t want to miss him before I leave for school. I take a deep breath, then knock.
“Come in.”
I push open the door to find my brother lounging on his bed, reading a textbook.
“Hi,” I say.
He sits up to face me. “Hi.”
“What are you working on?”
“Studying for my classics test on Friday.”
“Are you ready for it?”
“Yeah.” He shuts the book but wedges his finger in it so he doesn’t lose his page. “Did you need something?”
“I’m leaving for school. I wanted to say bye.”
“I’ll be down in a few weeks for Thanksgiving.” Avoiding my eyes, Oliver shakes his textbook and proceeds to dismiss me. “I better get back to it. See you.”
I look around his room, at the old-school record albums framed on the wall. At his stereo system. Anywhere but at him. Things have never been awkward between me and my brother before. I don’t know how to handle it.
“Oll, I’m sorry I disappointed you. I screwed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you or for you to think I didn’t trust you with the truth. I love you.”
He nods. “I love you too. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
He goes back to studying, and I shut the door with a click. I lean my head against the wall, clenching my eyes shut. Will things ever go back to normal?
Defending Taylor (Hundred Oaks #7) Page 20