The day was crisp and hot, bright with sun, blue as only a summer sky in Washington, D.C. can be. And suddenly, sitting on the top step in shade cast by the massive stone statue of Abraham Lincoln, Honey Belle felt confined.
She scooted a little ways from him to better see his face. This was it. The moment of truth. Her heart thrummed inside her ears. She didn’t know whether she was speaking aloud. “It isn’t you, Tripp. His name is Jack Tripp Garrett. JT, for short. He’s my son…our son.”
****
He had a son.
Son.
The word whispered through Tripp and stole inside his heart.
His son.
His.
Tripp’s heart turned over in his chest as he continued to stare at the image he’d mistaken for his own.
Confusion and rage coursed through him in equal measure. He didn’t know whether to sweep Honey Belle into his arms or strangle her with his tie.
Questions fired off inside his head like mortar rounds. He glowered at her, secretly admiring the red blush on her cheeks. He blurted out, “Is that why you slunk out of South Carolina? Because you were pregnant? Because you didn’t trust my love for you?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “My god, Honey Belle, can you imagine what I felt when I went to the house on Barrington Street and found out you’d lied to me? I loved you.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was husky.
The sun had reached its peak and was already inching toward the horizon. Tripp stared out across the expanse at the Washington Monument. “Why have you waited all these years to tell me I have a son?” His mouth twisted. “And don’t tell me it’s complicated.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “JT is an exceptional young man. He excels in everything—academics, sports, and politics. When he received the letter stating he’d been tapped to serve as a congressional junior page, it was the happiest day of his life, and it felt like a death sentence to me. There is no way for either you or me to come out a winner in this.
“You’ve seen the photograph. Even you mistook it for yourself. I’ve never stopped loving you, Tripp, but I love my son more. JT was so excited about the appointment that I couldn’t take his joy away by denying him the opportunity.”
Honey Belle spread her hands wide as if desperate. “D.C. is a place of scandal. My greatest fear is what will happen if you and he are seen together. There’s bound to be questions, speculation from reporters, other members of the House and Senate. My son thinks his father died in the war. I never told him any different.”
Anger flashed in his gut, but he suppressed it. “You keep referring to him as your son. He’s mine, too.”
Honey Belle’s sharp intake of breath revealed her acknowledgement of his fury. Staring back at him, she drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “Yelling at me won’t solve the problem.”
Her announcement that he had son had come as a shock. He managed a tight-lipped reply. “Yes, of course, you are right.”
He glanced at his watch as he stood. “I have to get back to the office.” His eyes darkened. “You owe me an explanation. I want to know all of it right down to the last detail.”
Honey Belle clenched her hands around the briefcase handle. She stood, too, almost matching Tripp’s height. “On two conditions—one, that you make certain JT is protected from scandal, and two, when I tell you the circumstances of keeping my…our son’s birth a secret, that you will listen, without comment, until I’m finished.”
“You are in no position to dictate terms, Honey Belle.” He used his cane as balance to help him maneuver down the steps. Halfway down, he turned and looked at her delicate features, the stubborn tilt of her chin, and he searched for the right words. “The President has called a special session of the Arms Committee. I head the committee and will no doubt be sequestered until all committee members are certain the wording in the bill cannot be challenged by the opposing body.” He offered a sardonic smile. “We could be tied up for weeks, or at least until summer is over and the junior pages have left D.C.”
Honey Belle placed a hand to her heart. “Thank you, Tripp.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be in contact. You still owe me an explanation, and no lies, Honey Belle. I despise liars.”
He was close enough to see her blink back the tears. “Should I stay in D.C. or return home?”
He gave her a measured look then shrugged. “Earlier you said you were from Georgia. Valdosta, I believe. I’ll contact you.”
“You won’t try to see JT, will you? I mean, you know what would happen?”
“I didn’t get to where I am today by making stupid decisions, Honey Belle.” Yeah, he already knew the temptation was there to seek out young Jack Tripp Garrett. He also knew reporters were vampires seeking their next victim to bleed dry. For the sake of his son, he would go MIA to avoid a scandal.
But by no means did he intend to let Honey Belle Garrett off the hook.
****
In heavy silence, Honey Belle strolled down the boulevard. The air had cooled. Dark clouds billowed with the promise of rain.
She knew the way back to her hotel and decided the walk would help clear her head. Too much had happened today. She wrestled with her conscience. All she had ever wanted was to protect her son. To love him the way her mother and father had never loved her. Until JT had received the letter announcing his appointment as a congressional junior page, life had been uncomplicated, peaceful, and filled with happiness.
She greeted the doorman at the hotel and rode the elevator up to her room. Her stomach growled, reminding her that except for a cup of coffee she hadn’t eaten all day.
Kicking off her shoes, she padded to the telephone and ordered room service. Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.
Her mind floated back to Tripp as she lifted the scrapbook from the briefcase. She had intended to show him the book filled with newspaper clippings showcasing his life, and to explain about his father. The opportunity hadn’t presented itself.
Aimlessly turning the pages, her eyes settled on the article about Tripp’s marriage to Kathryn and the loss of their child. Honey Belle wiped a tear from her cheek.
The poor man. He’d lost his mother, a wife, a child, and his leg. He’d suffered, probably more than anyone knew. Her imagination painted a dark and brooding picture of Tripp’s life.
All she knew of him lay between the pages of a scrapbook. Seventeen years of memories. She’d probably never know his deepest secrets. He certainly wasn’t about to share his life with her. In fact, she doubted she’d ever see him again. The one fact she knew for certain about Tripp was his honesty. He was the most trusted senator in Washington, D.C. If he said he would protect the identity of their son, she knew he would live up to his promise.
Leaning back against the pillow, she allowed herself to create a new picture of Tripp. Not the angry man she’d confronted today. One who was selfless in his protection of others, one who would forgive her and rekindle their love.
She wondered if he too suffered from loneliness. Yes, she had JT and Aunt Tess, and her students. For all practical purposes, she led a full and satisfying life. There was one void that needed filling. The love she had walked away from seventeen years ago.
The telephone startled her out of her reverie. Her heart pattered. She hoped it was Tripp. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom, just calling to say ‘goodnight’ and I love you.”
Honey Belle swallowed the lump that threatened to keep her from speaking. “Tomorrow is a big day. Are you still excited?”
“You know it. Listen, Mom, I know you’re concerned about all those articles you read about, well, you know…the guy who molested one of the pages. That was last year. I don’t want you to worry. Nothing like that will happen to me. I won’t let it. Why don’t you and Aunt Tess take a vacation? Do something fun.”
She smiled. “I take it you don’t want me making a fuss over you tomorrow. Anyhow, my plane leaves in the morning.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend time seeing the sights with you, Mom. Truly, I am.”
“What did I ever do to deserve a son like you?” It was a question she had often asked herself. “Learn as much as you can about politics, Jack Tripp Garrett, but don’t forget to enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in August.”
It was difficult for her to say goodbye. She cradled the receiver and went to answer the room-service announcement at the door. Sighing, Honey Belle pushed away all thoughts of Tripp from her mind.
When the truth came out, she hoped JT would forgive her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Honey Belle set the food tray out in the hallway and retreated into her hotel room, making sure the door was closed and locked. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and yawned. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and the stress of today’s meeting with Tripp had left her exhausted. She shed the housecoat and climbed into bed.
She didn’t remember shutting her eyes or falling asleep. She saw herself in a swirling fog of darkness. A man wearing a mask approached her. Though she couldn’t see his face, there was a familiarity about him. He warned her it wasn’t safe for a woman to be on the streets at night and alone. He asked if he could escort her someplace. She felt safe with this man. Because of his mask, could she trust him?
He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. Her body flamed, and she ached for more of his touch. His tongue caressed the inner harbor between her thumb and forefinger. Desire rushed through her and she felt faint. The flash of longing pulsated with such power it frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “I have to go.” And she turned and ran, allowing the swirling fog to engulf her.
She came to a door and knocked. No one answered. She balled her fist and rapped against the wooden frame until the sound echoed in her ears.
She knocked again.
She pleaded, “Please, let me in.”
Knock. Knock. Louder.
Stirring in her sleep, she wondered why someone didn’t answer the door.
Knock. Knock.
Honey Belle sat up. Her heart raced. The knocking was real. Someone was actually rapping on her hotel room door. She looked at the clock. One-thirty in the morning. She quelled the panic in the pit of her stomach. Had something happened to JT? Was it her son? Had he changed his mind about staying in D.C.?
Knock. Knock.
Scooting out of bed, she ran on tiptoes across the carpeted room and pressed her eye against the peephole. The last person she expected to see stood in the hall. He turned to walk away. Releasing the security chain, she opened the door.
“Tripp, what are you doing here?”
He pushed in past her. “Shut the door.”
Puzzled at his mysterious late-night visit, she obeyed. “Do you know what time it is? What’s wrong?”
Tripp handed her a paper sack. “Coffee.”
“Uh, thanks, I think. Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“You were right this afternoon when you asked if my office was bugged. Capitol Hill has eyes and ears everywhere. That’s the reason I waited until those eyes and ears went to sleep.” He lifted the lid off the cup he held and sipped.
“Excuse me for asking an irrational question, but what about when you get ready to leave? Won’t there be eyes and ears?”
He warmed her with a smile. “I’m not staying that long. I’ve thought about it all afternoon, Honey Belle. I need to know why you ran out on me.”
Disarmed by his smile, she relaxed her guard. “Okay. You have to promise you won’t interrupt, that you’ll hear me out all the way through.”
He settled in a chair, stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. He gave what sounded like a resigned sigh. “On my word of honor.”
Honey Belle was conscious of his undivided attention. She hid her pleasure. The feeling came from deep inside, a warm tide that felt like it couldn’t be emptied.
She pulled the other chair around to face him, then gathered the scrapbook and large brown envelope from the briefcase and held them in her lap. Her voice even, she began. “The day after you left for Massachusetts, a sleek black limousine parked in front of the home I shared with my parents in Shanty Groves. A man dressed in a black uniform asked if I was Honey Belle Garrett. He said Judge Hartwell wished to speak with me. I very naively thought your father had come to congratulate me on our engagement. I was excited, but disappointed because another part of me thought you must have asked him to take me shopping for an engagement ring.”
The entire time she talked, she watched Tripp’s face. It was obvious that over the years he had learned to mask his emotions.
Mask? A portion of her dream came to her. Was Tripp the masked man in her dream?
She continued her story. Refraining from referring to the Judge as Tripp’s father, she called him the Judge. “The Judge said he wanted me out of town, that I wasn’t good enough for you. He offered me a large sum of money. I told him you and I loved each other, and no amount of money could force me to leave you.”
She clutched the envelope of incriminating pictures. “That’s when he showed me pictures, shameful pictures. I explained the people were my father and mother and my cousin Bubba. He laughed and said you wouldn’t know the difference. That trash was trash. It wasn’t until he threatened my family, saying he’d fix it so my father couldn’t get medical treatment at any hospital, and that he’d see to it my mother and I lost our jobs, and he’d have us kicked out of our house… I couldn’t allow him to hurt my parents.
“I tried one more bluff. I snatched the pictures from him and ripped them to shreds. I shall never forget the sound of his laugh when he reached inside his briefcase and pulled out another pack of these.” She handed Tripp the envelope. When he hesitated, she said, “Where we lived was a dump. Mama and Daddy, well, they were who they were, and I didn’t know any different. As bad as the pictures look, they really are all innocent.”
She watched Tripp’s frown as he flipped through the stack of black-and-whites. “Part of me wants to believe you, Honey Belle. The other part knows my father wouldn’t stoop to blackmail. Threats, maybe. Blackmail, no, I’ll never believe it.”
She saw the white outline of anger around his pressed lips. A muscle ticked under his right eye. And he rubbed his leg. The prosthetic leg…as if it ached.
She closed her eyes because she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to recognize the accusation she saw in his eyes or to look too deep into his heart.
She reached inside the briefcase and removed a folded sheet of paper. “I wasn’t smart back in those days. Yet somehow I knew the time might come when I would need to defend myself. I made a copy of this.”
She reluctantly handed him the photocopy of the personal check, written in Judge Hartwell’s own hand and with his signature, in the amount of ten thousand dollars. She didn’t tell Tripp that his father had equated her to a fifty-dollar whore.
“Fearing a bank might ask questions if I tried to cash the check, the Judge also gave me five hundred dollars in cash. He wanted us out of town the next day. We packed up our few belongings, boarded a Greyhound bus, and went to live with my mother’s sister in Valdosta, Georgia.”
Tripp’s jaw worked as he looked at the reproduction. Honey Belle held her breath, waiting for him to speak.
He threw her an irritated glance and enunciated clearly. “Did you know you were pregnant when I left for Massachusetts?”
Honey Belle hugged her knees close to her body. “No, I honestly didn’t. All those nights we spent together on the beach, getting pregnant never entered my mind.”
“When you found out, why didn’t you tell me?”
An ache had grown behind her eyes, and she rubbed her temple. “Oh, Tripp, back then I was young and dumb. What did I know? Nothing. The Judge…he…he said if I was pregnant to get rid of it, that he’d have no bastard baby tainting the Hartwell’s pure bloodlines or ruining your chances at a political career. I kept my pregnancy a secret, and I’ve
kept my son a secret all these years, because I was afraid of what your father might do if he found out about JT.”
Tripp shot out of the chair as if he’d been fired from a cannon. The copy of the check fluttered to the floor.
Honey Belle got up and put her hand on his shoulder. He was clearly upset and, she could tell, about to get very angry.
****
Tripp frowned. He, of all people, knew about the walls people built up to protect their hearts. It was evident Honey Belle had ramparts around hers a mile high.
By the square of her shoulders, and the tilt of her chin, she seemed strong, resilient, and yet there was a vulnerability about her eyes that elicited compassion, even empathy. It was as if she’d seen many lows and was valiantly prepared to face more. He hoped he was that prepared to face the final outcome.
Old thoughts crammed his head. The long-ago conversation with Charlie Nichols, the detective his father sometimes used for cases. He’d often wondered about the detective’s hesitancy when answering those questions. It was too late, now, but he should have listened to his gut instinct and hired his own detective.
“I know why you lied about where you lived, Honey Belle. When I returned home and found you had never lived on Barrington Street, I went to the Burger Bin to see Carla. She couldn’t tell me where you’d gone, but she laid it on pretty thick about why you had left. Me, a college kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and you, a high school dropout born on the wrong side of the tracks. An imperfect match doomed to disaster from the very beginning. Carla advised me to forget about you and get on with my career.
“Later, I drove out to Shanty Groves. I was determined to find you. By that time, the house you’d lived in was a crumbling shell and no one remembered your family.”
Tripp studied Honey Belle for a long moment. He was overcome by the sudden urge to unclasp her hands and gently loosen her shoulders so she didn’t appear so…so knotted up.
Something shifted inside Tripp, and he felt the familiar coldness envelop him like steely armor. He gritted his teeth. He needed to confront his father.
Forbidden Son Page 17