by Jean Stone
Which was why he sat in the backseat now, behind BeBe, and why she was stunned when Roger spoke up right there in front of him and said, “I know about Danny. And I know where he is.” He drove with his face practically pressed to the windshield, trying to see through the rain that pounded the glass.
“What?” BeBe asked. “You know where he is?”
“I think he’s on Cuttyhunk. I think he’s with those kids—those friends of his. Reggie and LeeAnn. I didn’t figure it out, though. Evelyn did.” He wiped the fog that smoldered on the inside of the window, and then continued. “But that’s not everything, Beebs. I know the rest, too. About Danny. About Josh Miller.”
BeBe turned her head to look out the window. In the backseat, Keith said nothing, the silent Secret Service agent, privy to it all. “Fuck,” she muttered. “How did you find out?”
“Evelyn. She overheard Liz tell Michael.”
She raked her fingers through her tangled orange hair. “Liz told Michael?” It wasn’t difficult to picture Evelyn lurking in doorways, hearing it all. It was difficult, however, to imagine Liz telling Michael, to imagine her sister’s guilt and her pain.
Roger nodded. “And I’m afraid, BeBe. That’s why I had to come and get you.”
BeBe wanted to ask what he was afraid of, but didn’t want to in front of Keith.
As if reading her mind, the agent said, “I’m here to help you, BeBe. I care about your sister. I care about your family.”
BeBe cast a sidelong glance at Roger.
“I had to tell him,” Roger said. “Or he wouldn’t let me come get you.”
“But I already knew,” Keith said.
Yes, BeBe thought, of course he knew. It was his job to know everything, to protect and defend. And to play chess and make it appear as if he wasn’t paying attention. “Did my father tell you?” she asked.
“Yes. As soon as Miller made noises about entering the race, your father feared for what might be ahead. He knew he needed someone he could trust.”
BeBe snickered. Father. Everywhere, always. “And do tell. What made you so special that Father could trust you?”
Keith paused, then said, “I was your brother Daniel’s second lieutenant at Fort Dix. I was there when he was killed.”
It was a moment before BeBe was able to digest the information: Keith had known Daniel. Keith was a friend. She swallowed with difficulty and asked, “So what about your sidekick? What’s so trustworthy about Joe?”
“He doesn’t know everything. But he is trustworthy. He is my son.”
They drove another quarter mile before Keith spoke again. “I’ve studied this from all angles, BeBe. And as I told Roger earlier, I had no doubt that Josh would not use this … situation … against Michael.”
“Had?” BeBe asked. “Why did you say you had no doubt? Has that changed?”
It was Roger’s turn to speak. “It has changed,” he said. “Because of Evelyn. She’s the one who figured out that Danny’s on Cuttyhunk. Well, she did, but she didn’t tell me. I brought the laptop to the shelter. I had an idea she’d been up to something—she’d spent a long time on the computer tonight. Anyway, thank God there is power at the center. I hooked up to the Internet and found an e-mail that she sent to Josh Miller. She told him where to find Danny. She’s always been jealous of Liz. And of you. I’m afraid she sees this as a chance for some sort of childhood revenge.” He paused, staring at the wipers, staring at the rain-drenched road.
“Did you tell Liz where Danny is?”
Roger shook his head. “I only told Keith. There is no way of knowing for certain where Danny is until this storm’s over. We didn’t want to get Liz’s hopes up.…”
“And he wanted you there,” Keith added. “For moral support.”
A look of sadness passed over Roger’s face. “I feel responsible for Evelyn,” he said, “as if I should have sensed her, well, her craziness.” He took a shallow breath. “The fact is, BeBe, she’s completely out of control. We have no idea what she’ll do next.”
Chapter 32
She was not happy to be alone in the car with her husband, the man to whom she’d been wed for over twenty years. She was not happy and she had no intention of speaking; her shame had stripped her of words.
The windshield wipers slapped back and forth in front of their faces.
“No matter what you say,” Michael said so quietly Liz could barely hear over the sound of the wind and rain, “I will always think of Danny as my son. I’m not without guilt here, Liz. When we were young, I was so eager to get my career started I didn’t pay much attention to you. I know that.”
She gave Michael credit for so many things: for being an outstanding politician who would, truly, make a great president; for being so smart that sometimes it made her head reel; for being so compassionate to his fellow man that it sometimes made her envious. She had given Michael credit for so many things, but never for realizing the things she’d always felt: that he had never given her enough time, that the goodness of their marriage could realistically only be measured in moments rather than months or years. She had not known her husband had been so aware.
From her own guilt, she found the need to defend his. “I know you did the best you could, Michael. I know Father had a lot to do with what we were—or were not—as a family. It still is no excuse for what I did.”
He did not speak a moment, the politician’s savvy to think first. To think, then respond, in kind.
“Did you love me when you married me?” he asked.
Liz was not startled by the question. She was too numb to feel anything so sharp. And she knew this was not the time to lie, that all that was left now was room for honesty, no matter how brutal, hurtful, or irreversible.
She studied the rain a moment, the slant, then the swirl, then the straight pounding drops splattering on the trees, the road, the hood of the car. The dark sky was now lightening a little—as if no one had told daybreak there was a hurricane going on. “I don’t know if I loved you,” Liz replied, aware that she felt surprisingly calm, surprisingly cleansed.
Beside her, Michael nodded, the slow, deliberate nod of someone who had already known the information he’d just received.
“I thought I was in love with Josh, Michael,” she continued. “But you, well, you were my destiny. I think I’d know that since the first time we met at West Point. I think Father had already chosen you.”
“It went back before that, Liz. My appointment to the academy came because of your father.”
She rubbed her neck. That was something she’d never considered, never, not once.
“My family’s position …” he continued, “the mills in Lowell … well, my family was in a terrific position to back your father’s plan for Daniel, first on the state level. I think he wanted to use me, and my family, to help elevate Daniel straight to the top.”
Liz stared straight ahead. “God,” she said. “I never thought …”
“I know he was your father, Liz. And in many ways, he was like a father to me. But Will Adams the man was a master manipulator. Who knows what went on inside his head? But I do know that without him around, I’m beginning to realize that I’m not quite sure where the line is between your father’s dreams and my own life. I’m not quite sure what’s mine and what was his.”
She sat there marveling at what she was hearing. She had never, ever dreamed that Michael could have critical thoughts about her father. She had never, ever dreamed that Michael did not receive from Father exactly what he wanted. “Yes, well,” she said, “I guess I’ve been a little unsure, too. About where he stops and where I start.”
They did not speak for a few moments, both of them steadily watching the taillights of Hugh’s vehicle as it wound around fallen tree limbs and yellow and green wet leaves, torn from the branches too soon for autumn. Liz realized that she’d never considered the fact that Michael, too, had been affected by her father’s death. Just because he’d been her father, not his, it didn’t m
ean that his influence had been any less great for Michael. In many ways, she thought it had been even greater.
“Michael?” she asked quietly. “When we got married … did you love me?”
He was quiet, pensive. “I was in love with the future, Liz. You were part of that.”
She put her head back on the headrest. “But you didn’t love me,” she said flatly, knowing the emotion could not come now, but would come later.
“I know this is going to sound, well, thin, Liz, but I have grown to love you. Very much. We have … we have a family. We have a life that I cherish. Beyond the political arena.”
“Did you ever cheat on me?” she asked, unsure, for some odd reason, if she was prepared to handle the answer.
“No,” Michael said. “Never.”
She looked at him. “Never?”
He smiled. “Your father would have killed me.”
A small piece of her heart smiled, too, and her tension eased. But her brief relaxation quickly dissipated as the Texaco station came into view.
Using their slickers as shields, Liz and Michael ran toward the shacklike building that hugged the Menemsha pier. Liz stepped over the swordfish weathervane that lay in a windblown, twisted heap of metal on the ground. As Michael opened the door, she grabbed hold of it to keep from being blown over, too.
Inside the cottage-sized, fishing-tackle-lined station, a tiny light glowed. Hugh had made it inside ahead of them; they followed the sound of his voice to a small room in the back.
“Cuttyhunk Harbormaster, this is Menemsha,” Hugh repeated over and over, his voice straining to be heard over the wind that rocked the thin walls. “Cuttyhunk, come in, please.”
The radio snapped, but there was no response. Hugh turned to look at Liz and Michael when they reached the doorway. “If Danny’s on the Annabella, maybe someone on Cuttyhunk has seen them or heard their radio transmission. Cuttyhunk never loses power.” His words sounded positive, but Liz did not miss the doubtful look in his eyes.
“Menemsha,” came a sudden, crackly voice, “this is Cuttyhunk. Lost your lights, eh?” It was almost a chuckle on the other end, lost to the static over a short span of rough water.
Despite the sarcasm, Hugh smiled. “Glad to hear Cuttyhunk didn’t go out with the tide.”
Crackle. Crackle.
Liz held her breath, then gripped Michael’s arm to restrain herself from jumping over the stacks of boxes of fishing tackle, grabbing the microphone, and shouting, “Where the hell is Danny? Have you seen my son?”
“At least if we went out with the tide, we’d be able to see where we were going.” Laugh, laugh, crackle, crackle.
“Are you all okay?” Hugh asked.
“Safe and sound. Most everyone’s here at the Hysterical Society. ’Cept of course the Howards.”
Hugh laughed as if he knew the Howards and was not surprised that they were not at the “Hysterical Society,” whatever that meant. Liz squeezed her husband’s arm more tightly. Michael cleared his throat.
Hugh looked at him, then nodded. “I’m on a mission, Jake. We’re looking for a few lost kids. From the Annabella. Do you know her?”
“The catamaran? Sure. Reggie and LeeAnn. We know them well.”
“And?”
“And have we seen them?” Another chuckle, another crackle.
“Yeah, Jake. Have you seen them?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m looking at them right now. Sleeping on the floor of this shithole like a couple of babies.”
Hugh flicked his gaze back to Michael. “Are they alone? Just the two of them?”
“Hell, no. Got themselves one passenger. He’s asleep, too. A kid in a wheelchair.”
Liz closed her eyes and felt Michael’s arm slide itself protectively around her waist.
It would be at least a day, maybe two, they were told, before Danny and Reggie and LeeAnn could get a lift back to the Vineyard. A couple of days, depending on the weather, depending on the cleanup and how soon someone would venture across the sound, by air or by sea.
On the way back to the shelter, Liz let her tears fall. “Please, Michael,” she said, “let’s not talk about any more of this until he’s back safely. Whatever you choose to do later, fine. But please, at least give me the luxury of enjoying Danny being safely home again.”
“I’ve already made my choice,” Michael said as they pulled into the parking lot of the community center. “I’ve decided to withdraw from the campaign.”
Chapter 33
He turned off the car, and they sat there silently, the rain splattering the windshield, forming a translucent screen separating them from the world.
“You can’t do it, Michael. I won’t let you.”
“I can do whatever I want, Liz.”
“No. Too many people are depending on you.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe I’m tired of having people depend on me.”
“What about the party?” She’d heard that word so often, she, too, had sadly come to recognize it as the almighty. “And what about us?” she added. “What about your family?”
“The kids will be fine, Liz. Kids always are. No matter how hard we try and get them to do things our way.”
“What about Greg? His political ambitions? If you quit now it could ruin his chances …”
“I’m not going to push him the way I … the way we were pushed. And this is a new century, Liz. A new millennium, remember? The party is not going to hold Greg responsible for the sins of the father.” Neither of them mentioned the sins of the mother.
Their vision out the windows was blocked by the rain and by their tentative breaths that coated the glass.
“When did you make this decision?”
“During the night. Before we knew that Danny was okay.”
Her body was weak and aching. She wondered if she—or any of them—would survive this hurricane, or this mess. “This is all BeBe’s fault, you know. She told Josh and Danny must have overheard …”
“It’s not BeBe’s fault, Liz. It’s not, and you know it.”
Okay, so she knew it. The part of her that twisted inside her now, that made a big lumpy knot that sat inside her stomach, knew it was not BeBe’s fault. “But she shouldn’t have told Josh.” Her voice was almost a whisper, almost a cry.
“It’s doesn’t matter, Liz. Maybe this should have come out years ago. But now we know the truth, and Josh knows the truth. I can’t take the risk that he’ll use it against us. I don’t want to destroy the kids. Or you.”
“I can’t believe Josh would use this against you.”
Silence a moment. A long, draining moment. “How well do you really know him, Liz?”
The truthful answer was one she cared not to admit. She had known him one summer, or part of one summer. She had known him one week, when Danny had been conceived. And she’d known him one day and one night, last night or the night before. Not how she knew Michael. Liz had known Josh far better in fantasy than she had in real life. She wiped a small corner of the window.
“Why?” she asked.
Michael did not answer right away. “You said Josh saw it on the news, about Danny being missing. Well, there’s a good chance it was Josh who told them.”
She shook her head and looked at her husband. “No. It couldn’t have been him. Josh is the one who called me. He told me …”
Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry, Liz. But Roger checked with CNN. The story didn’t break until half an hour after Josh called. He knew the story before it was aired.”
She frowned. She tried to fit the pieces together. She could not. “But, Michael …”
“Please don’t be naive, Liz. Politics is about getting ahead. With emotional costs never considered.”
“But …”
He shook his head again. “I’m not going to wake up some morning and find that the media has revealed that Danny is not my son, that my wife had cheated on me with a member of the opposite party … excuse me, that wo
uld be the member of the opposite party. I’m not going to have the children held up to that kind of ridicule. I’m withdrawing as soon as Danny is back. And there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“My guess is your sister-in-law is trying to switch sides,” Keith said. They were still in the car, slowly picking their way across the island, as if they could outwit the storm.
No one seemed to care that they were with BeBe—an accused murderer. When BeBe had mentioned it, Roger had said, “You? Come on, BeBe. You didn’t kill anyone.” She’d taken comfort from that, thank God for Roger. She fidgeted with the seat belt now. “There’s only one problem,” she said. “Why would Evelyn switch sides?”
“Think about it. She’s always been jealous of you and Liz. But she’s played the martyr role, probably hoping to still cash in on some childhood dream. That would explain why she’s stayed married to Roger even though, well, sorry, Roger …”
Roger nodded. “Evelyn has said many times she doesn’t care if I have sex with a horse. I am her husband and she will not allow her birthright to be taken from her.”
“Her birthright,” BeBe muttered. “How asinine.”
“Not to her,” Keith retorted. “Anyway, now that this business about Liz and Josh and Danny is out, she’s probably terrified the family will collapse and she’ll go down with it. Unless she finds another route out.”
“With Josh Miller?”
“Precisely. He’s as close as she can still come to all those things she believes she deserves. If the information she’s passed on to him can help him get elected, he may feel indebted to her.”
“How?”
“Who knows? But don’t forget, Evelyn comes from a grandfather whose life revolved around giving favors and cashing in on them.”
“Favors,” BeBe said. “I am sick to death of that word. Evelyn told me it had all been arranged for her to marry Daniel. One favor for another. Her grandfather to my father.”
Roger scowled. “When did she tell you that?”