by LR Potter
She, of course, had had to fend off questions about her father’s quick departure from the party. Several people had made the connection between herselfand James Franklin, and some even knew some of the details of his death. Rush had deftly hedged those questions.
She bit her lip to keep from whimpering against the pain of her migraine. She only prayed she could make it home without throwing up in Rush’s car. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as she clutched her hands together in her lap. With her eyes closed, she felt the gentle brush of Rush’s fingers against her cheek.
“We’ll be home soon. Just hang on,” he promised.
How had he known? She thought she’d hidden it from him. She captured his hand within hers and held it in appreciation for his concern.
Chapter Six
Sunday morning, Rush woke with Trinity lying against his chest. He tugged her closer and pressed his lips against her brow. It’d been a long night with the baby waking up every hour and Trinity’s suffering. And he still needed to go into the office. She snuggled deeper into him and pressed her lips against his neck.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, stretching his body luxuriously against her.
Running her hands over his chest, she whispered against his satiny skin, “Better. This is my favorite place to be. I wish it could always be like this… just you and me… and Blake, of course.”
He knew her head was still filled with vision of the night before. “I know, baby,” he murmured, not really having any answers for her. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it would probably get worse before it got better. “I hate to bring this up, but I have to go into the office today.”
“Again?” she nearly whined.
“I’m sorry. There are issues I need to resolve in the Cayman Island property. I’ll try not to be too late.”
“But it’s Sunday.” This time she completely whined.
“I know. I honestly don’t have a choice. Trust me when I say I’d much rather stay home with you and the baby. Do you want me to call Anna to sit with Blake so you can get some rest? You’ve been up most of the night.”
“So have you. Are you sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?” she nearly pleaded.
“No, there are things which need to be done before the banks open tomorrow. I’d put it off if I could. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Once Rush dressed and left, Trinity heard the thin wails of her son calling her to him. Moving swiftly to his room, she lifted the tiny bundle from the bed and cradled him against her chest, cooing and talking to him as she jiggled him in her arms. She breathed in his sweet baby smell and kissed his head. This is what she loved the most. It worried her sometimes at how helpless he was… so small, so vulnerable. She wanted to protect him and keep him safe. She wanted to ensure he always felt loved and wanted.
After she changed and fed him, she laid him in her lap, talking and reciting nursery rhymes from her youth until he fell asleep. After placing him back in his crib, she roamed around the condo and tided up. She reached up to touch her mother’s locket, but instead felt the carved surface of the sapphire Rush had given her the night before. When he’d placed it around her neck he’d said he wanted her to remember that he loved her right then in that moment. She wished it could be that simple. Unclasping the necklace, she moved to her jewelry box and laid it gently inside.
She searched through her jewelry box for her mother’s locket, but didn’t find it. She searched the bedside tables and even under the bed. Where had it gone? She thought back through the sequence of events, then remembered Rush taking it off and slipping it into the pocket of his tux jacket. Moving quickly to the closet, she slipped her hand into the jacket pocket, still not finding it. Reaching into the other pocket, she felt the smooth, round locket. She heaved a sigh of relief and lifted the locket out.
Something caught on the chain and fluttered to the floor. Bending, she retrieved the small white card. It looked like a standard business card with the name Olivia Terry printed in a fancy script and listed several phone numbers. She flipped the card over and read, then re-read, the words written with feminine flair: Once you tire of playing house, call me. What the hell did that mean? Old insecurities began to build inside her. Who was Olivia Terry? And what did she mean to Rush? Was he already tired of playing house? Was that why he’d kept her card? Was he with her now? What about all the nights he’d had business which kept him away? What kind of business had it been? Things had moved along so quickly. What did they really know about each other? Had there been someone important in his life before she’d shown up pregnant?
The darkness of her thoughts made her restless and so she decided she’d been housebound for far too long. Changing quickly into jeans and a shirt, she fastened Blake into his stroller and set off to the elevator. She headed down the sidewalk and crossed over to the park. The sun shone brightly overhead and it reaffirmed her decision to get out for a little while. She meandered for a couple hours in the downtown area of Savannah, before making her way back to her apartment. Whenever her thoughts would stray into her uncertainty about Rush, she steadfastly pushed them away. Maybe she was burying her head in the sand, but she didn’t want to even contemplate what it would do to her if he left her now.
As her muscles began to ache, she sighed. She hadn’t realized how just the exercise of walking downtown had tired her. She stopped on the cross-street, waiting for the light to change, when she saw her father’s picture on the front page of a newspaper yet again, she stopped to buy it. She folded the paper and stowed it inside her bag.
As she pushed the stroller towards her condo, she just couldn’t face going back into the empty apartment and finally having to surrender to her thoughts. As she came to a quaint café with outside seating, she parked the stroller and sat. After placing her order with the waiter, she reached into her bag and pulled out the newspaper.
Her father, Judge Arthur Grace, was featured prominently on the front page. Even being in his mid-fifties, he was still a very distinguished-looking man. His hair was a silvery-grey, which only intensified the grey of his eyes. The bold headline of the article had her jaw clenching - Do and Die! - it screamed. Quickly she scanned the article.
The heat on Judge Arthur Grace has reached a new high. The high-profile case involving Natalie Ludlow, a thirty-two-year-old, white female, who alleges she shot and killed Benson Donaldson in self-defense. Ludlow alleges Donaldson, a thirty-seven-year-old, African-American male, broke into her home on April 27th of this year, and brutally raped her. Ludlow alleges she was able to get away from Donaldson and upon retrieving her handgun, shot him three times in the chest. Donaldson, after being initially revived in the ambulance, died from complications sustained from his injuries later the following day. Ludlow was taken into custody, but upon questioning, it was initially determined, she had acted in self-defense and released.
Outcry from the family of Benson Donaldson claimed Ludlow lured Donaldson into her home and killed him in cold blood. It was further stated this case violated Donaldson’s civil rights. His family alleges the police didn’t attempt to investigate Ludlow as she was a white woman and he a black man. Rumor has it, if Judge Grace allows a not guilty verdict to come out of his court on this case, he would be targeted. Security for the Judge has been heightened. Judge Grace is probably best remembered for the kidnapping of his wife and daughter which resulted in the death of his wife when the Judge was then the District Attorney. Article continued on page six.
Trinity sat back in her seat as she contemplated the words from the article. Her thoughts immediately returned to nearly a year before when she’d stood and watched the stain-glassed window shatter and her father falling to the floor in a slump after being shot. He’d had a security detail then as well, but it hadn’t stopped the bullets. A small, evil part of herself felt he might deserve his current plight. He had agreed to the plan to have her and her mother kidnapped years before
which had resulted in her mother’s death. Not that she wanted her father dead… just scared a little.
As she ate the sandwich placed before her, she flipped the newspaper to page six to continue reading the article on her father’s case. The food in her mouth turned to sawdust as she stared at the grouping of pictures in the center of the page. She struggled to swallow. The pictures had been taken the night before at her engagement party. There were several pictures of her and Rush, but the one which set her on edge was the one in center of the collage. It was of Rush and a beautiful, dark-haired woman. They were standing together and her hand was wrapped around his neck. His hand was raised and rested on top of hers as if to hold it there. He was looking down into her pouting face with a small smile of indulgence. Her stomach turned. Quickly, she scanned the words beneath:
Is Rush Drayton really ready to forsake the old for the new? Sources close to the mega-millionaire state he might be walking on both sides of the fence. It was obvious in the beginning of the year passions ran hot for Drayton and Olivia Terry, daughter of investment banker, Oliver Terry. Sources further revealed in the week prior to his public engagement to Trinity Grace, daughter of the Judge, he was spotted having dinner with Terry.
The blood drained from Trinity’s face. She’d been so stupid. She’d actually believed him. She’d thought he wanted to build a life with her and Blake. Bile rose up in her throat and she struggled to swallow it back down. Reaching quickly into her wallet, she threw money on the table to cover her tab and jumped up, now desperate to be alone in her apartment. She covered the short distance from the café to her brownstone apartment complex quickly.
When she pushed the stroller into the elevator of her building, Blake began to cry… then wail. She removed him from the stroller and raised him up against her chest and bounced him up and down, trying to calm him as tears spilt down her cheeks. When the elevator doors opened she backed out of the elevator’s doors, while still jostling the baby, she reached forward and grabbed the handle of the stroller and pulled it out. She turned to maneuver the stroller around when suddenly she was bombarded with flashes of light and a crowd of people shouting questions at her.
So startled, it took her a moment to realize the crowd was reporters. Their questions began to make their way through the commotion. How’d you meet Rush Drayton? How long have you been together? When is the wedding? Did you sign a prenup? How much did he pay you to have the baby? Did you know about Olivia Terry?
She kept her head down and tried barreling her way through them, but they began to crowd in on her, their voices getting louder and more demanding, their questions more vulgar and invasive. Is the baby his? Did you get pregnant to snag him? Was marriage the price for you having the baby? Are you willing to share him with Olivia Terry?
Panic and claustrophobia began to fill her. The need to protect her child became her main objective. The reporters began to reach out to tug against Blake’s blanket in order to get the first pictures of the newest Drayton heir. She began to yell and twist against them. Their hold on the blanket was such that she nearly dropped Blake as they tugged and pulled. Finally, she shoved the stroller into their midst and turned and ran back the way she’d come… to the elevator. Stepping into it, she slammed a hand against the buttons and thankfully the doors closed before the reporters got to her. Stepping into the small lobby area, she exited the building quickly and ran down the sidewalk and turned around the first corner she came to. She hurried quickly down the side street and turned again onto a different one. She moved quickly until she reached a small coffee shop. Stepping quickly inside, she took a seat in the back.
Feeling her stress, Blake began to wail. Tears of fright, pain, and frustration streamed down her face. She hugged Blake close to her and concentrated on rocking him gently and smoothly to lure him back into sleep. With hands that trembled violently, she dug her cellphone from her bag and dialed Rush’s number – not knowing who else to call.
Blake was asleep against her shoulder and her free hand was clutched around a cup of tea when Rush finally got to her. Her trembling had ceased and now she stared blankly at him when he slid into a seat across from her.
He laid a hand against her wrist. “Are you and Blake okay? I’m so sorry. Someone leaked the news of our engagement along with your address to the newspapers.”
She stared at him emotionlessly for a long moment before saying softly and simply, “I want to go home.”
Keeping his eyes focused on hers, replied, “I don’t think that’s possible right now. Let me take you to my house. Okay?”
Wordlessly, she rose and waited for him to do the same. He followed suit, concerned by her total lack of emotion. He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around both her and Blake. He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know how this happened,” he murmured.
He felt her throat move as she swallowed hard. “Please take me home,” she whispered again into his chest. It was then he realized it wasn’t that she was emotionless; it was that she was hanging on by a very thin thread.
“Here, let me take Blake,” he offered, as he reached to take him.
Jerking away from him, she nearly yelled, “No,” as she clutched him even tighter to her chest. Her loud voice and tension startled the infant, causing him to wail. Tears began to streak down her face as she realized her actions. Not trusting herself, she transferred the baby to him and walked out of the café. Reaching into his pocket, he flipped money onto the table for the tab as he jiggled his son in an effort to soothe him. He found her on the sidewalk with her arms wrapped around her middle shivering as if she were cold. Radcliff, his chauffeur, was standing in front of her with the door open but it was as if she didn’t see him. Moving up behind her, Rush placed his free hand against the small of her back and propelled her gently into the backseat of the towncar.
She slid over to the window and turned her head towards it before murmuring, “We don’t have a car-seat.”
Leaning forward he said, “Radcliff, go by Ms. Grace’s condo, please.”
Her head jerked towards him. “I can’t go back in there,” she exclaimed, panicked.
He laid a calming hand on her arm. “I’ll go. I’ll have Radcliff drive you and Blake around the block while I go in and gather a few things. Okay?”
With her chest heaving, she only nodded. When Radcliff stopped outside her building, he handed Blake to her. She took and cradled him close to her body. She looked down into his little face and her powerlessness to actually protect him overwhelmed her again. What kind of mother was she? So lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t aware Rush had left the car until she felt it begin to move into traffic. She buried her face into Blake’s small body and let his blanket absorb her tears. No matter how much she loved him, he would always be a target because of who he was; Blake Andrew Drayton, heir to the Drayton fortunes. There’d always be someone out there looking to cash in on his name, in one form or another. He was barely six weeks old and already they’d been run out of their home. She should have expected it, but she hadn’t. Again, what kind of mother did that make her? Wasn’t she supposed to be discerning enough to think about possible dangers?
She forced herself to calm down and stop the tears. She needed time to think things through and she really needed for Rush to go back to work. If she continued being a raging lunatic, he’d feel obligated to stay with her and Blake. For the hundredth time since becoming a mom, she wished she had her own mother to turn to.
She was sitting calmly when Radcliff stopped a block from her apartment and Rush opened the trunk and dumped in a leather bag before climbing into the car and began the process of buckling in the car-seat. When he was done, she calmly put Blake in and buckled him quickly.
Rush met her eyes, “Okay?”
“Better. Sorry about before. They just took me by surprise. I didn’t expect to it to be like that,” she said as evenly as she could manage.
He kept her eye for a long moment b
efore giving a quick nod of his head, satisfied with whatever he saw in her eyes. “I’m afraid for the time being, you’ll need to stay at my house. I can protect you both better there. I know it’s not what you want, but it’s what’s best for now. I’ll be adding additional security for you and Blake.”
As casually as she could, Trinity turned her head to look with unseeing eyes out the window. This was the life she’d tried to run from with her father… the protection… the control. And now, here she was right where she’d started. She forced her breathing to remain slow and even.
“I wish there could be another way,” she heard Rush continue. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement.
When they reached Rush’s house, she gathered Blake from the car-seat and followed Rush. The last time she’d been here was the morning she’d been pregnant and had run from him with a raging migraine. . Now, here she was, engaged to him and the world he belonged to. Sadly, she felt no surer about their future today than she did on the morning she ran from him. Actually, she felt even less sure. At least on that day, she had hope he’d only wanted her and not Olivia Terry.
“We’ll have to make do for today, but tomorrow, I’ll call around and have some things delivered for the baby,” he said as she stood standing in the middle of the living room, still holding Blake in her arms. When she only nodded, he moved to her. “Why don’t I go lay Blake down then we can sit and talk. Okay?”
Everything in her body longed to cling to the baby and beg Rush to go, but she restrained herself and stiffly handed the baby to him.
Rush headed down the hall and carefully laid his son in the middle of his massive bed. He carefully propped pillows around him in the unlikely event he would roll in any direction. He stood for a moment and let the events of the last hour wash over him. He’d barely been able to make out her words at first when Trinity had called him. It’d taken every ounce of self-control to keep his frustration from spilling out over to her. When he’d finally understood what had happened, he gotten to her as quickly as he could. He was used to reporters and knew how to avoid them; he’d been doing it his entire life. If he ever found out who’d leaked her address to the press, they would be very sorry.