by J. R. Ward
“Fine, but it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to hear the reports—”
“Tell them it’s going to go all day long. We’ve got a campaign to launch.”
Gray looked up from the folder he was holding. “What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were still on the fence. We told everyone you were on the fence.”
“Not anymore.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack.” Gray slammed down the folder. “We missed a prime opportunity tonight!”
Jack marched over to the desk. “I don’t need this from you right now, okay? Do your job, call those god-damn people, and let’s get this candidacy started.”
He sat down and watched Gray compose himself.
“You mind telling me why the change?” His friend’s voice was even now.
But Jack had no intention of exposing his pain to anyone.
Because how he felt was no one else’s fucking business, he thought.
“I don’t have anything to lose. Not anymore.”
Jack was still sitting at his desk when the sun came up. As the first rays of dawn fell across the lawn, he shifted in the chair and moved his cast to another position. He felt a sturdy ache in his shoulder, but it was the pain in his chest that held his attention. He figured it was either angina or a broken heart, and it was hard to decide which would be worse.
Although that was probably because he was all alone, watching a beautiful sunrise, and feeling pathetically melodramatic.
“Hey, Governor.”
Jack looked over and saw Nate standing in the doorway. He smiled even though he felt half-dead. “Don’t jump the gun with that title. It’s a long way to the finish line.”
“Yeah, and when have you ever failed at something?”
Jack couldn’t bear to entertain the joke. “I’m surprised you’re up this early considering what you and Thomas pulled off last night. The food was fantastic.” Eyeing the duffel bag hanging off Nate’s shoulder, he asked, “You headed out?”
“Yeah, I want to be up in Canada before nightfall. Spike, Louie, and I have an appointment to see a restaurant that’s for sale.”
“You know, I was serious when I offered you the money. Even if you insist on just borrowing it.”
“Thanks.”
Jack stood up, loosening the stiffness in his back. “When are we going to see you next?”
“Christmas.”
“Good.” They walked out, heading for the kitchen, and Jack made a quick detour to pick the Globe off the front step. As he uncurled it, he saw a picture of himself below the fold on the front page. The article quoted him as still being undecided, but the reporter speculated it was only a matter of time before an official announcement of his candidacy was made.
That guy’s editor was going to be pleased, Jack thought. Because the Walker campaign was probably going to release something by the end of the week.
“So you really are going to do it,” Nate said over his shoulder.
“Yes, I am.”
As they went into the kitchen, he scanned the article. Butch Callahan’s response was as he expected. Barely polite.
Jack threw the paper down on the table.
And so the fight begins, he thought.
“Breakfast?” he asked Nate.
“Naw. I’ll grab something on the road.”
Jack walked his brother out to the old Saab Nate had driven since graduating from Harvard.
“I hope that thing keeps going.”
“Me, too.” Nate tossed his bag in the trunk and got in. With a sputter and a roar, the car’s engine came alive and he leaned out the window. “Take care and remember, my cell phone’s got voice mail, so you can always find me. Let me know if you need to talk.”
“Will do, brother.”
Jack waved as Nate shot down the driveway.
Before he went back in the house, he looked at the garage and wondered if he’d ever be able to see the damn thing and not think of Callie.
Briefly, he entertained a scenario of what-ifs, like what if his mother hadn’t sprung the announcement. Or what if Callie had given him a chance to explain. Or what if she’d trusted him enough in the first place.
But then he reeled in his thoughts, and as he went back to his study, he knew he had some work to do.
Sitting down behind the desk, he called a real estate agent he knew. The message he left authorized a fullprice, cash offer to purchase a condo at the Four Seasons Hotel. He knew one was available because he’d seen one advertised in the paper the week before. His next call was to a moving company. Assuming his lawyers worked quickly, he figured the closing could be in as little as two weeks, and he wanted to make sure he got the movers lined up.
He was hanging up the phone when his mother materialized in the doorway. Dressed in a pale silk robe that fell to the floor, and with her hair loosely coiled on her head, she looked fresh even at her age.
“Speak of the devil,” he said.
His mother’s smile was conciliatory but her eyes held a certain satisfaction. She knew, he thought, exactly what she’d done. But then, why should he be surprised? His mother was a very smart woman.
“Jack, darling, I missed the opportunity to say good night to you after the party.” She came into the room. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did to make last night a success.”
“Tell me, Mother,” he said, idly fingering some papers on his desk, “when are you thinking of going to Palm Beach for the season?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“You might want to delay for a week.”
“Not so eager to get rid of me? That’s a pleasant change,” she chided, her smile becoming more genuine.
“I just think you’ll want the extra time to adjust.”
She shot him an inquisitive glance. “To what?”
“You’re moving out of this house.”
Mercedes seemed to stop breathing. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I am purchasing a condominium for you at the Four Seasons. So I imagine you’ll want to be there to direct the movers when they put your things in your new home. Unless you want a decorator to do it.”
His mother turned ashen. “My God, Jack, what have you done?”
“I’m cutting the proverbial cord.”
He watched as Mercedes backed over to the couch and sat down. She seemed to collapse, looking very small surrounded by all that luxurious silk.
“You can’t do this. You can’t send me away. I live here. I couldn’t possibly leave Buona Fortuna to live in a hotel.”
“I’m not sending you to a Motel 6, for Christ’s sake. It’s the Four Seasons.”
“But this is our home.”
He stood up. “Let’s be very clear. This is my home. And you are leaving. End of story.”
His mother’s lower lip trembled. “Jack, don’t do this.”
“Frankly, I’m sorry that I waited this long. Now,” he said briskly, “I’m heading into the office and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner.”
As he went by her, she gripped his hand. He noted dispassionately the tears in her eyes.
“But why?” she asked.
He stared at her long and hard. “You know precisely why. Do you have any idea what you did to me last night?”
“I only wanted to help,” she whispered fiercely. “And, Jack, you need me.”
“Maybe if you behaved less like an enemy of mine. But as you are now, no, I don’t.”
Callie walked into the kitchen and immediately wished she’d stayed upstairs a little longer.
Jack’s mother was in tears and Thomas was looking at the woman as if he was going to have to catch her if she fainted.
“He can’t do this!” Mrs. Walker wailed. “I need you to talk to him. Make him understand that I can’t possibly go. He’ll listen to you.”
“I don’t know if—” Thomas stopped talking when he realized they were not alone.
Mrs. Walker wheeled around. The moment she saw Call
ie, she tried to pull herself together by lifting her chin up and bringing a tissue to her nose. Moving with noble forbearance, she wiped her eyes briefly, and when she spoke, her voice trembled only a little.
“I should like my breakfast in bed this morning, Thomas. Please tell Elsie to bring it up when she arrives.”
And then Mrs. Walker glided by as if she hadn’t just been hysterical.
Callie glanced over at Thomas. He was leaning back against the stove and shaking his head.
“I should have seen this coming,” he muttered.
“What happened?”
The man looked up. “Jack kicked his mother out of this house.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kicked his own mother out. Though I could see how he feels like she deserved it.”
“But why—” Callie felt the blood drain out of her face.
Last night’s announcement.
“Thomas, I need to know. Why?” She asked the question, even though she suspected she knew the answer and was horrified by its implications.
“That little speech she gave last night. Evidently, Jack wasn’t prepared to announce anything.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Walker said she’d tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Frankly, I don’t know what the big deal is. So she jumped the gun a little? Unless he wasn’t going to run, after all.”
A nauseating wave came over Callie as she realized the mistake she’d made. The terrible mistake. God, she had to find him and explain—but maybe it was already too late? His candidacy had been formally announced. He couldn’t possibly go back, right? Or maybe he could—
“Will you excuse me?” Callie didn’t wait for a reply before she tore out of the room.
She raced to Jack’s study, and when it was empty, she went upstairs and pounded on his door. She threw it open, but he wasn’t there, either.
She told herself that the exploratory committee wasn’t meeting until the afternoon. There had to be time to catch him before he left for the office. But where was he?
She was briefly stalled in the hallway when Grace and Ross came out of their room with their bags packed.
“Grace! I need to talk with you.”
Her half sister’s eyes widened. “Certainly, where would you—”
Callie pulled the woman into her room and shut the door.
“I don’t have much time but I need to—I’m in love with Jack and I’ve made a terrible mistake. An awful, hideous . . .”
“You’re in love with Jack!”
“Oh, God, assuming I haven’t completely blown it with him, I need you to understand something. I’ve told him a little of my past, but he doesn’t know the whole story because I couldn’t be completely honest without exposing you. He feels as though I must not love him because I can’t trust him.”
Grace’s eyes widened even farther.
Callie took a breath before she lost her voice. “You’ve got to understand. I have to explain everything to him, even if you don’t want me to. If I don’t, he and I have absolutely no future together. And I can’t let that happen.”
She waited for a response, but there wasn’t one. Grace seemed totally frozen.
“I’m sorry,” Callie said, reaching out. “I know I made a promise to you. But I can’t hide anymore. Not when I have so much to lose by staying silent.”
She heard a clicking noise and looked down. Grace started to fiddle with her watch, clipping and unclipping the latch. When she broke away and walked across the room, Callie held her breath. She wasn’t prepared to keep quiet, but that didn’t mean she wanted to cause Grace any pain.
“I—I’m sorry, Grace. Truly. I never expected—”
Grace whirled around and pegged her with hard eyes. “Don’t you be sorry. Don’t you ever be sorry. This is our father’s fault. All of it. Not yours.”
There was a long silence as Callie watched Grace’s face grow increasingly dark. The depth of anger was a surprise.
And then Grace marched over, grabbed Callie’s hands, and said, “Tell Jack. Tell him everything.”
Callie blinked. “Everything? And you’ll still be—”
“I’ll be just fine.”
Callie felt an immense gratitude, but it passed as she remembered she still didn’t know where Jack was.
Or whether he would let her talk. Her only hope was if she apologized well enough, he might forgive her. Maybe.
But where was he?
She thought about the commotion of the night before. She was willing to bet he was meeting with the exploratory committee early. Considering everything that had happened, he had probably moved up the time of the meeting. Because God knew he and his advisers would have plenty to talk about.
“He’s probably left already!” She looked at Grace. “Are you going back to the city now?”
Grace nodded.
“Will you give me a ride to Jack’s office downtown?”
“Sure. I know where it is.”
Callie whipped the door open. She and Grace grabbed hold of Ross and raced him down the stairs. Moments after they had confirmed with Thomas that Jack had headed for his office, they were in a black Ford Explorer with Ross hitting the gas.
They shot onto the Mass Pike and were heading for Boston when Grace frowned and looked into the backseat.
“And after you tell him, then what?”
“I have no idea. Hopefully, he’ll forgive me.” Callie smiled weakly. “It may be too late anyway. But I have to try.”
“But what if it isn’t too late? Then what happens?”
Love, family, the whole bit, she thought, not even daring to put such optimism into words. But happily-ever-after probably wasn’t what Grace was concerned about, anyway.
“You mean about his candidacy?” Callie said. “You don’t have to worry. He said if I told him the whole truth, he would stay out of the election.”
Grace considered her thoughtfully. “Do you really want him to give up all that? You said yourself how much he wants to run.”
It felt premature to be discussing their future, given how upset Jack probably was with her. But Callie answered the question anyway.
“Of course, I don’t want him to stop. I hate the thought of what he would be leaving behind and I worry that he’d resent me later. But there’s no other choice.”
“Yes, there is.”
Callie frowned, unable to comprehend what Grace was suggesting. Perhaps she just didn’t understand.
“But Grace,” Callie explained patiently, “if I’m with him and he runs, my past—our past—is all going to come out. Somehow, some reporter is going to put the pieces together and then it will be everywhere. You think the tell-alls are bad now? Wait until you see our headlines.”
Grace regarded her gravely. And then said the most unexpected thing.
“Maybe so. But I don’t really feel like keeping our father’s secret anymore. Do you?”
Callie was stunned. She was willing to go through anything to be with Jack, even expose herself to the press. But Grace? Why would she put herself through that? She had nothing to gain, everything to lose.
Callie shook her head. “But the consequences, to you, to your mother, would be . . . tremendous. I can’t imagine you’d want to deal with it all.”
Grace looked over at Ross, meeting the man’s eyes.
And then she turned back. “At a different point in my life I might not have been able to handle it. But I’ve changed and so have a lot of my circumstances. With the success of this year’s gala, my position is secure at the Hall Foundation. I have a man who loves me and isn’t afraid of anything.”
Ross reached over and took her hand in a solid grip.
“And I have you, Callie.” Grace paused. “Our father cheated us both and I can’t call him on his conduct because he lied until the day he died. I’m not inclined to protect him, certainly not considering how it will affect your life and Jack’s. Let it come out. Let the whole godforsak
en thing come out. We’ll get through the storm together, and once we’re on the other side, we’re free.”
“You’d do that?” Callie whispered.
Grace’s green eyes were fierce. “For you, I would. I have nothing to hide. I’m proud that you’re my sister.”
Callie clasped her hands over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. The possibility of such acknowledgment, such support, had never occurred to her.
She felt Grace reach out and stroke her hair, but she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes at that moment.
“We’re family, Callie. Which means we’re going to stick together.”
Family.
When Callie finally spoke, it was hoarsely. “He was so ashamed of me. He could barely look at me most of the time. While he was alive, I lived in fear of the truth getting out because I was terrified it would drive him further away. And after I met you, I was afraid I would lose you.”
Grace’s voice was strong. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.”
Callie slowly opened her eyes and saw her sister’s tears through her own.
“Listen to me, Callie. We’re not going to let our father rule us from the grave anymore. The time for hidden truths is over.”
25
JACK PARKED his car under One Financial Center and took the elevator up to the Walker Fund’s offices. As an electronic chime marked the passing floors, he had about as much interest in his candidacy as he did in any other part of his life. There were phone calls to return, documents to be reviewed, the deal with the McKays to finalize—he couldn’t have cared less about any of it.
He was worn-out and not because he’d stayed up all night.
When he’d walked away from Callie’s locked door, he’d figured he was taking his first steps to accepting a life without her and he’d convinced himself that eventually he’d be back to normal. But driving into town, he realized he hadn’t banked on the length of the road ahead of him. He wasn’t going to get over her in a night, or a day. Or a month. He had an awful suspicion it was going to take a long time.
Like maybe forever.
Which was ridiculous, he told himself. There was no forever with this kind of thing. There were four—no, five steps to grief, right? And he seemed to have zoomed right past denial, given how terrible he felt.