There was another uneasy silence, and then she added, “But then I realized that there was a poor, innocent baby who was depending on me for sustenance, I started forcing myself to eat. And I have to admit, I started to feel better.”
Kevin nodded again. “She’s done a lot better in recent weeks, but we were concerned she might not be well enough to go to the hearings.”
“The health issues your brother mentioned,” I recalled.
She nodded. “Yeah, nobody wanted to broadcast the pregnancy, for some odd reason.” She smiled up at Kevin. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Kevin.”
He smiled at her, grimaced at me, and left.
I looked at her. She looked happy for the first time since I had seen her. “You should probably go, too,” she decided. “I can guarantee you it’s only a matter of minutes before Sam comes up here and tries to kick you out. He was not happy when I told him that you were coming this morning.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No,” she acknowledged, “but my opinions don’t really matter too much around here.” She flattened herself against the pillows. “Besides, I need some time to myself. I may even bathe, who knows?”
I wanted to talk to her about everything, and she was frustrating me. “You know, you’re driving me insane.”
“This whole thing is crazy,” she agreed. “I am sorry about that, though. I know I can be a bit of a challenge. Still, cheer up. I think I’m in a worse situation than you. I mean, I know darn well that you wouldn’t even have any interest in me if I wasn’t pregnant. I have to deal with that.”
“Anabel—”
“No!” she insisted. “I can’t do this with you, this is—”
“I don’t want to talk about how absurd this is. We could go around for hours doing that. I just want to tell you I’m on your side, okay? Stop treating me like the enemy. Unless you haven’t forgiven me, in which case—”
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she cut me off. “So don’t do this. We’re on the same team right now. We want what’s best for the baby, right?”
“Right,” I said, confused.
“Well then, I’ll see you later.” A yawn escaped her lips. “I’m so tired. I was up late last night writing about my hatred for you in haiku form.”
I couldn’t believe this. “You were not.”
“Was too,” she countered. “Jared Sorensen / Knocked me up, now I can’t sleep / baby hurts my back.” She gave me a grin. “It helps that your name is five syllables.”
“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.”
“I have no doubt,” she chuckled. “Now go away. You can come over tomorrow if you want. I’m going to read a book today.” She picked up a copy of The Historian.
“That’s a long book to read in one day, Anabel.”
“Well then, I had better get started.” She smiled. “Goodbye. Please don’t talk to anyone on your way out. It makes my life easier.” She looked thoughtful. “Come around two tomorrow. We’ll talk shop for Monday.” Anabel buried her nose in her book, and I knew I had been dismissed.
When I walked into the hallway I was met with three angry faces: Kevin, Sam, and Alexis. Not wanting to deal with this, I announced, “I’m not allowed to talk to any of you, so I will see you tomorrow afternoon, per Anabel’s request.” They all gaped at me, and I let myself out.
I could at least keep my word to her in that respect.
Later, I met Meghan at the Starbucks by the National Gallery of Art. As I had feared, she had a copy of the Post. I sat down, and by way of greeting she thrust it in my face.
“I already saw it.”
Meghan stared at me. “You are a nightmare, you know that?” She straightened her glasses. “I’m also more than a little grossed out, Jared. She’s nineteen. NINETEEN!”
“She’s almost twenty,” I offered.
Meghan glared at me frostily.
“You look tired, Meg,” I observed, hoping I could steer the conversation away from me.
“Of course I do,” she scoffed. “I work eighty hours a week. My weekends are spent preparing for trial. Plus, I’m your sister, God help me, which is a full-time position on its own.”
“I don’t want to do this with you.” This was a mistake.
“Well, too bad!” She sat back in her chair. “Buy me a latte and then we are going to discuss this, mister. Light whip.”
When I returned with the drinks, she got right down to business. “So I’m going to be an aunt, huh?”
“Before you even start,” I warned, “I’ve already been dealt several severe blows to my ego not only by our esteemed mother, but Miss Martin herself this morning. Mom felt the need to point out that when Anabel was in diapers, I was going through puberty, and then proceeded to lecture me on the state of my soul. And you and I both know how Mom feels about the state of my soul.” Meghan grunted, so I continued. “When I arrived at Blair House I was screamed at by Alexis and nearly jumped by Anabel’s doctor—who, in case you were wondering, was that inmate that Sam pardoned—and speaking of Sam, I think that if I hadn’t gotten out of there so quickly, he would’ve slugged me. Now, as for Anabel, she has put her absolute disgust of me into poetry. It wasn’t bad, really, but does nothing for the old self-esteem.”
“How’s Alexis looking?” she asked sharply.
I shrugged. “Same as usual. Gorgeous.”
My sister snorted. “You always had a problem with her.”
“No, she always had a problem with me. I told you, it wasn’t like that. She was my best friend’s wife.”
“And what was Anabel?”
I ignored this. “She really hates Anabel, though, that’s pretty apparent.”
“I can’t believe you got the little floozy pregnant.”
“She is a lot of things, but floozy isn’t one of them.”
“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, gesticulating toward the paper. “She just busts out with, hey, got a bun in the oven? In front of everyone? Embarrassing not only herself, but you, and her poor brother.” Meghan shook her head. “She is clearly unwell. She’s kind of pretty, but that’s really all she has going for her, except for the damsel in distress complex. You always liked to date those girls who needed rescuing, and this one definitely needs to be saved from herself.”
“Meghan,” I began, “she’s been through a lot. She lost her father, and—”
“And she’s a nut job! Who’s to say that she didn’t kill Jonathan Martin?” Meghan proclaimed. Some of the patrons of the coffee shop were starting to stare.
“Lower your voice,” I ordered her. “She didn’t kill Jonathan.”
Meghan leaned across the table. “Jared, you are my brother, and I love you. So I want you to think long and hard about what you’re doing right now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She looked at me, her expression softening. “Look, I have friends who are in those hearings. Everyone knows you’re hung up on her, and I am sure it makes it much worse for you to know that you got her pregnant. You’re concerned about her, but because she’s playing hard to get, you’re obsessed. I get it! But she’s just some kid you had a little fun with. And hey,” she continued, ignoring my protests, “I know you, and unlike everyone else, I know that there is—while extremely hidden—a kind, decent side to Jared Sorensen. However, from what I hear, Anabel Martin wants nothing to do with you.”
I shook my head. “Well, she told me she wants me in our kid’s life,” I began.
“But what about hers?”
I looked away. “She doesn’t know.”
Meghan nodded her head. “Of course she doesn’t. Because she’s just a kid.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I just want you to be prepared. She could change her mind. I mean, she’s not a normal person. She spent the last seventeen years of her life trapped on an island with no one her own age, a father with some incredible control issues, and she just latched onto you. At some point, tho
ugh, she’s going to discover that there are billions of other people in this world, and—”
“Look, you don’t need to tell me all of this,” I cut her off. “I know it all. I’ve been over it in my head again and again. And that was before I even knew she was pregnant. I didn’t sleep at all last night because I spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering what’s going to happen in four months when Anabel has that baby.”
“Yes, little Emma Claire,” my sister mused. “I do like that name.”
“I hate it, but she’s made it clear I don’t have a say,” I told her. “I believe it’s a nod to Jane Austen. Emma is her favorite.” I had a flashback to the island, of us escaping, and Anabel clutching a copy of that book.
Now my sister focused on me. “Oh, I see,” she frowned. “This complicates things. It’s not just an act. You really do care about her.”
“I give myself away so easily?”
“Jared, you’ve dated all sorts of women, and I’ve never heard you mention a book that they liked. In fact, I sincerely doubt any of them ever read a book.”
“Well that’s just it with her,” I said. “Anabel loves books. She had an incredible library at the island—” I broke off. What had happened to Anabel’s books? I wondered if they were still there. She probably missed them more than she missed anything else.
“She had an incredible library,” Meghan prompted.
“Right. Sorry. That’s where we first became friends. The books were her constant companions, her escapes, her security blankets,” I continued. “I think it was the one thing that she and Jonathan agreed on, reading. She loved everything Jane Austen. She also had every single book that Kurt Vonnegut ever wrote, and her biggest guilty pleasure was James Patterson.”
“Wow,” said Meghan. “Alright, I give her credit for being well-read. Jared, I just want you to understand something.”
“And what is that?” This lecture was getting repetitive.
“That you have experienced a whole bunch of things that your Anabel hasn’t. You’ve traveled, you’ve dated other people, you were in a fraternity—you went to college!” Meghan finished with a flourish. “I just want you to understand that you may not be her number one priority.”
“How could I be?” I asked. “Not only did I treat her horribly, and play games with her, I forced myself on her, Meghan. I’m not proud of that.”
She pursed her lips. “I wasn’t going to bring that up, but since you did, I think it’s fair game. Why did you do that, Jared? I mean, what possessed you to—”
“I was drunk,” I confided. “Drunker than I’ve ever been. The worst part? I was drunk under the table by a man twenty years older than me, and to get back at him, I went and raped his daughter.”
She looked horrified. “Is that why you did it?”
“More or less. It comes to me in bits and pieces. I would like to think that wasn’t my motivation, but it’s the best I can come up with.”
“Well, I hope you avoid her,” declared Meghan, sipping her latte. “I can only imagine what is going to be said about you next.”
“I’m supposed to see her tomorrow.” I avoided making eye contact. “She summoned me. She’s started telling me what to do.”
Meghan sighed. “Okay. I’m coming with you. You need someone who is in your corner.” The subject was clearly not open for debate.
“I think she’ll like you.”
“I don’t care.”
Chapter 16—Anabel
I woke up Sunday around 11 a.m., bleary eyed from finishing The Historian at two that morning. Why no one had looked in on me before now bothered me. Then I checked myself. I didn’t like having everyone in my face; why would that bother me? Still, something felt weird. In my underwear, I studied my closet for a moment. Then, yanking a dress over my head, I contemplated brushing my teeth but that thought made my stomach reel. Settling for a vigorous mouth washing, I pulled my hair into a clip and then sidled out of my bedroom. There wasn’t anyone except the usual Secret Service detail in the hall.
“Hello?” I called, walking down the steps. “Sam? Alexis?” No one in the living area, dining area, or kitchen. I supposed they must’ve stepped out; but no note? Then it hit me: they were probably at church. I was not allowed to go to church with them. After all, I was an embarrassment.
“Oh well,” I told myself, and began rummaging for food. I grabbed an apple and washed it carefully. As I took a bite out of my apple, it hit me: I was alone.
It was nice.
My life had been five straight months of constant attention, and I had not been used to it. Having a security guard around me at all times—even one who didn’t have any interest in making small talk—made me edgy. Before Jared came to Caereon, I had spent most of my time with myself, and it was nice to not be putting on a show for someone, pretending to be happy, pretending to be calm, and pretending to be sane. I spent so much time pretending that I was often unclear as to which emotions of mine were real.
I wandered through the downstairs rooms, marveling at the quiet. Not that Sam and Alexis were loud, but normally one was calling to me, yelling at the other, or screaming into a BlackBerry. I had developed a particular fascination with Sam’s BlackBerry and wanted my own. My brother, however, insisted that we wait.
There were so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to learn how to drive (Caereon had had a couple all-terrain vehicles, neither of which I was allowed to go near); I wanted to travel around DC and do all of the touristy things that there were to do, like see the monuments and visit the Smithsonian; but overall, I wanted to meet people.
Not that anyone here had been particularly friendly.
When the Caereon Murder Case (that’s what the press was calling it) broke, my face was all over the news, often juxtaposed with images of my late parents. For someone who barely looked in the mirror, it was surreal to see my visage on the television and in various newspapers. Request after request for an interview came to me, and all were turned down. Sam was anxious that I not say anything that would get us in trouble, so I hid from the spotlight. I could not turn on the television or the radio without hearing “the half-sister of President Sallinger” on every news station. I had heard numerous comments and read all sorts of articles commenting on my physique, my hair, my face, and my clothing. My sassy comments to my brother had made headlines; even my attire had been scrutinized. It had not occurred to me that I would be vilified for wearing a “trench coat from the Gap” every day. I made a mental note to confer with Alexis about my wardrobe. I dropped onto the divan, tucking one leg under myself as I took another bite from the apple.
Jared would be here soon, and we needed to come up with a plan of attack for tomorrow. We would be discussing some extremely sensitive, uncomfortable areas for us both, and I knew that no matter what, it would be unpleasant. It would also be all over the newspapers the following day.
At least, I thought to myself, my father wouldn’t have to see it. I was stunned to realize a tear was sliding down my face. I wiped my eyes and steeled myself. If nothing else, Jonathan would want me to be brave.
Suddenly the phone was ringing. I glanced around, and it hit me then that I hadn’t seen anyone since I came down the stairs. Great. I supposed I would have to answer. Really, I thought, where were my bodyguards? I lifted it off of its receiver and stammered, “Blair House, Anabel speaking.”
There was a silence, and then, “It’s Jared.”
“Hi,” I managed.
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but my sister is with me and she wants to meet you.” At least he sounded as pained as I did.
“The hippie or the redhead?” I asked.
“The redhead.” He sounded like he was fighting a chuckle.
“Oh right. The hippie’s in England. Well, bring her over!” I proclaimed as merrily as I could. “I’m alone, and I’m not sure when Sam and Alexis are returning, so please, come over.”
As I hung up the phone, I wondered if I should bru
sh my teeth. I decided I would try and eat a piece of toast instead.
By the time Jared and Meghan arrived, I had managed to down not only the toast, but some fruit salad that I had discovered in the fridge. While Jared smiled at me, Meghan did not seem impressed with the crumbs I was wiping off of my skirt or my bare feet. As I led the way into the sitting area I offered drinks and was declined. Meghan took a chair, and Jared took the one next to her, so I wound up sitting on the divan by myself.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I offered.
“Mm,” she said, sizing me up. I knew I should have brushed my teeth, but the thought still evoked nausea. “So where are the Sallingers?”
“I don’t know. They abandoned me,” I grinned at her. “Too much trouble, I guess.”
Her unsmiling face indicated to me that she felt I was too much trouble for her brother. “Indeed,” Meghan said. “Listen, Anabel, I am sure that all of this has been overwhelming for you, but I want you to consider what you’re doing to my brother.”
“What I’m doing to your brother?” I repeated.
“Meghan, I don’t—” began Jared, but she cut him off.
“Jared isn’t exactly Mr. Popularity here, and you’re contributing to the bad press,” she went on. “I’m not trying to insinuate that your motive is to make his life miserable, but you’re doing a fantastic job of doing just that.”
I bristled, and turned to Jared. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that I made your life unbearable.”
“I didn’t say that,” he protested.
“Well she did, and she’s your envoy, isn’t she?”
“Anabel,” he began.
“Save it,” I looked back to Meghan. “So what is it you want from me?”
“Well,” she said, crossing her legs, “maybe if you came out of hiding from the media and gave an interview and told the world that Jared isn’t Satan, they might back off. He can’t find a job, you know.”
“I didn’t.” I looked at the floor.
“Your testimony on Monday may make things worse for him,” she continued. “He’s already told me some disturbing information about what happened, and it will not reflect well on his character.”
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