by Nella Tyler
"Get out, Luke. Get out right now."
He stared at me, eyes wide with surprise. He began to say something, and then changed his mind.
"Now." Without another word, he did exactly that. The minute the door closed softly behind him, I rushed to it, turned the double lock, and then headed toward my bedroom, my vision blurred with my tears. By the time I flopped face down on my bed, my shoulders were heaving with heartbroken sobs.
Chapter 3
I don't know how long I lay on my bed crying my eyes out, feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in quite a deep pit of self-pity. How in heaven's name had I managed to become so inextricably attracted to Luke, even knowing about his less than stellar behavior? Did I somehow think that I could influence him? Change him? Turn him around and make him understand that money wasn't the most important thing in the world? Didn't he realize that I was pretty much giving him a chance to choose his money or me?
I rolled over onto my back, staring up at my spackled ceiling, wondering why God had made men so dense. Didn't he grasp not only the danger he was in, but the long-term ramifications of being caught? Did he think he was above it all? Did he think he would never get caught?
With a groan of annoyance, I sat up. My head hurt. My nose was stuffy and my eyes felt puffy. I padded into the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, shook my head in disgust, and then turned on the cold water. I spent several moments splashing cold water on my face, then turned off the water, blew my nose, and straightened my shoulders.
It was time for a talk. Only this time, the talk was going to be with my father. This whole situation was going to get resolved – and soon. I couldn't deal with this much longer. Not with Luke and not with this new knowledge about my father.
I left the bathroom and headed back into the living room, looking for my cell phone. I found it on the side table near the couch. I sat down, picked it up, and stared at it for several moments. I knew the moment that I called my father, I would be demanding answers; answers to questions he might not be willing to answer. What would I do? Could I back up my tough talk to Luke a little while ago? Could I really cut my father out of my life?
I quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall. It wasn't quite nine o'clock, so I knew my parents would still be up. My hand began to tremble, not because I was scared of my father, but because this phone call could have a very serious impact on my life. I had always believed my father was the epitome of trustworthiness, honor, and dignity. If he admitted to dealings in insider trading, which I doubted he would do, would it change my feelings for him? Would it change his feelings for me because I accused him of it?
I had a feeling, deep inside, that this was what my father wanted to avoid when he'd given Luke that ultimatum about not seeing me anymore. Tough shit. I had to think about myself now – my life and my future. Why should the two men I cared most for in my life drag me into the middle of a big scandal? Most of all, I wanted the truth. I wanted to hear the truth from my father's own lips. Way back in the deep recesses of my mind, I wondered if Luke was telling me the truth about my dad.
Would Luke have lied to me about it? If so, why? To save our relationship? To drive a wedge between my father and myself, so that I would take Luke's side? Luke's side. There were no sides. Either Luke was honest or he was dishonest. The same applied to my father. I had no idea what my father had done in his past, and frankly, it was probably none of my business. Still, as an adult now, and as someone involved in this situation, I believed very strongly that I had every right to know the truth. Not only did it have to do with personal issues, but ethical and moral ones, as well.
I wanted to do the right thing, make the right decisions, but life had suddenly grown so complicated. For a second, I regretted the day that I had ever knocked on Luke Benning’s front door. Well, it was too late to close that door. I had willingly stepped through it. I had fallen for Luke, no doubt about it, and I knew I loved my father, but why did I have to be dragged into the middle of this mess? I wanted no part of it!
My heart pounding profusely, I brought up my contact list and called my dad. After several rings, he picked up.
"Hey, honey, how you doing?"
He sounded like his usual self. As if nothing was wrong. As if he didn't know that I knew of the ultimatum he had given Luke. As if I didn't know anything about his background or history or Luke's accusations.
"Not so great at the moment, Dad," I said.
"What's wrong, honey?"
I decided that the best thing to do was just to throw it out there. "It's about Luke, Dad."
He said nothing for several moments. I thought the call had been dropped. I glanced at the phone screen and quickly and realized that no, we were still connected. “Did you hear me, Dad?"
"Yes, honey, I did. I-"
"We need to talk," I said.
"You sound angry, Molly," he commented. "What's going on?"
I made a noise in my throat. "Angry? That doesn't even begin to cover it."
"Tell me what's happening, Molly, and I'll do my best to fix it."
I sighed with impatience. “Dad, you can't fix everything."
"I can try," he said.
I heard the hint of amusement in his voice and it brought tears to my eyes. My dad had always tried to make everything just perfect for me. He had done what he could to make sure that my growing up years were as stress-free as possible. At the time, I appreciated him for it. Now, I wondered if instead of doing me a favor, his spoiling me had been a disfavor.
"I'd like to speak to you in private, not on the phone."
Again he was quiet for several moments. Again I glanced at the phone. "Dad?"
"I have time now, if you do," he said.
"No, I want to talk to you in private." I could almost see a frown forming over his eyes. My dad could be stubborn.
"Why?" he asked.
Was that a hint of wariness in his voice? "Let's just say that I'm trying to look out for your best interests," I replied. I tried to keep my voice level, not display any of the hurt, shock, or knowledge that I thought I knew about his activities. I wondered if he was suspicious, if he thought I knew anything. As far as he knew, Luke had broken things off with me, and unless he had spies following me around, or Luke, he was none the wiser.
"Okay, honey, if that's what you want," he said. "Umm, I have some time tomorrow morning, around nine o'clock. Will that be good with you?"
"That'll be fine, Dad, thanks. I'll talk to you-"
"Don't you want to talk to your mother?" he broke in, surprised.
When I called home, I always talked with both of them. Tonight, I didn't feel like talking to anybody. I was too raw, too emotional. The moment I heard my mother's voice, I would likely break down crying and then she would want to know what was happening. How could I tell her anything? What could I possibly tell her? She probably had no idea what had been going on since I got the job at Luke's mansion. I wasn't even sure if she knew I was working as a maid. That was my fault, of course, because I had not been calling as frequently since I met Luke. No, I had been sleeping with him, going to the beach with him, going to the fair with him, and thoughts of my parents had been pushed back into the recesses of my mind.
"No, Dad, not tonight. Does she know I'm on the phone?"
"No," he said. "She's in the bedroom, watching television."
"Then, don't tell her I called," I said. "I'm not feeling particularly well and I'm going to bed now."
He sighed. "All right, honey. Feel better, and all see you in the morning."
*
The following morning, I was a bundle of nerves. I had lain in bed for what seemed like hours after speaking to my dad last night, my emotions so erratic that I soon found myself crying again. Why, oh why, did falling in love have to be so painful? And why did I have to fall for a guy who was embroiled in such a mess that it turned my entire life topsy-turvy? At the bottom of all my questions was a concern that I couldn't trust Luke or my dad. What kind of a way
was that to think about the two people you cared about most in the world?
I really wanted to call Samantha, but didn't want to have to go over the whole story right now. I was too raw, too emotional. To be honest, I had an idea that not only would she be shocked, but once again, she would tell me to run. But how did one run from family? How did one separate Dad the father from the man who had built a massive empire in real estate and through the stock market? How did you do that? I had no idea. Unfortunately, the same conundrum applied to Luke.
What did I think I was going to accomplish? That I would, or could, change Luke? Turn him into something that I wanted him to be? I had read enough magazines and psychology books to know that it was very difficult to change human behavior and the dangers of trying to change a partner into something that you wanted them to be. I know I wouldn't appreciate it if Luke tried to change me, mold me into what he wanted me to be, so why should he feel any different?
The problem was, he was doing something illegal. He was doing something that could land him in jail and ruin his life forever. He might think it was none of my business, but it was. Essentially, I was guilty by association. Didn't I have an obligation to society? To myself? I had never broken the law in my life! I didn't even have a speeding ticket! Now, through no actions of my own, I had knowledge of a massive – Luke’s words – insider trading ring? How far and wide did it reach? Was it limited domestically or was it international?
I dragged my butt out of bed, feeling as though I had been run over by a truck. I stumbled into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. Dark circles marred my eyes and I had a shocked expression on my face, an expression that I equated to deer in the headlights. I scowled at my reflection. “Damn you, Luke. Damn you, Dad. You guys did this to me. I don't deserve this!”
I jumped into the shower, took my time, and then got dressed. It felt strange to not be going to Luke's house to work, but that certainly wasn't going to happen anytime soon, at least not, until this mess got straightened out. In fact, whether it did or not, maybe it would just be best for me to focus on putting in more applications at the school districts. Perhaps it would be a good idea to distance myself from Luke for a while.
I left the house about eight-thirty and slowly drove to my parent’s house. I could find my way in the dark in the middle of a rainstorm, so my drive was pretty much automatic while my thoughts were filled with dread, uncertainty, and an increasingly growing sense of resentment and anger.
I pulled onto our street, lined with massive magnolia trees in full bloom. The aroma and the sight was beautiful and normally would've lifted my spirits and made me laugh out loud. Interspersed with magnolias were ancient cypress trees, many of their limbs draped in dusty-colored grayish-green moss. The shrubbery after the spring rains was now lush and thick; the air filled not only with the scent of magnolia, but jasmine and trumpet vines, hibiscus flowers, and a myriad of other aromas from plants I couldn't identify.
I pulled into the driveway of my parent’s estate, my palms clammy with nervousness. I had never felt anything but enthusiasm and joy approaching my parent’s house. Another reason to damn Luke. The driveway itself was nearly two hundred yards long, a gently winding path that headed deeper into the woods until the car emerged in a gorgeous meadow.
My parents’ mansion was set near the rear of a meadow, surrounded by the lushness of Raleigh's deciduous and annual trees, shrubs, and wildflowers. A deep sense of nostalgia swept through me as I drove up to the front steps. The house, built in traditional colonial style, had just received a fresh coat of off-white paint this past spring. A wraparound veranda, two dormered windows, and white painted brick on the bottom, planking on the second floor, gave the house a unique and old-fashioned appeal. It even had three columns holding up the wraparound, now half covered in trailing vines of yellow jasmine.
For the first time, I saw my house with a stranger's eyes. I had grown up privileged. I would always appreciate that. But if that house, this lifestyle had been gained from ill-gotten goods or illegal activities, I wanted nothing to do with it.
By the time I stepped out of my car, the front door had opened and my mother emerged with a smile.
"Molly, darling!" she exclaimed. "What a pleasant surprise! I didn't know you were going to stop by. If I had known, I would have prepared a batch of your favorite cookies."
I smiled at my mom, blinking back tears of love and affection. "Snickerdoodles." She laughed and wrapped her arms around me.
"So what brings you here so early in the morning and in the middle of the week, no less?"
Together we stepped through the doorway as she talked a mile a minute. "It seems as if I haven't seen you in ages! You've been keeping yourself busy, haven't you? Have you heard anything about your school applications?"
I was just about to answer when my father stepped through a doorway a short distance down the hallway. His office.
"Honey, I need to have a private talk with Molly," he said.
I watched the frown form on my mother's brow as she glanced between my father and me. "Oh? Is there something wrong?"
"Everything's fine," he assured her. "Maybe after our talk, Molly can spend some time with you to catch up."
I put a brave face on. "I'm not sure if I can stick around, Mom," I told her, placing a hand affectionately on her shoulder. "I have several appointments today, but if you want to make those snickerdoodles, I promise I'll come back for a batch."
"I have a meeting with the ladies group at the country club in just a little while." She glanced down at her watch and then at her husband. "Oh my goodness, I'm running late already!"
My dad smiled indulgently at her and the love in his eyes for his aging wife brought a thick swell of emotion in my throat. I swallowed heavily. What about me? Did he feel that way about me, too?
She turned to me. "Next time you decide to stop by, honey, you give me a head’s up, okay? As chairman of the committee, I can't back out this morning, so I'm sorry I can't stay-"
"No worries, Mom," I assured her. I gave her a hug, relishing the scent of her light perfume, and then gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll catch you the next time. Maybe we can go do some shopping, go out and have a lunch, maybe at the Arboretum. What do you say?"
"Sounds wonderful," she said, glancing at her husband. "I guess this means you have Molly all to yourself for the morning," she said. "I've got to get going!" She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then quickly disappeared upstairs.
I turned to my dad, still standing outside of his office. He looked at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for me to enter his domain. I did, automatically heading for one of the comfortable leather chairs that sat in front of his massive mahogany desk.
I had always loved it here, in my father's office. It smelled good: of old books, furniture polish, and when the windows were open, all the wonderful scents of the woods behind the house, along with the flowers and the trees. In fact, other than my bedroom, this was my favorite room in the house. It had always given me a sense of protection, of knowing that no matter what, my father was always there, working, and available, even as I had pestered him as a child.
As I sat down in the leather chair, my father rounded the desk and sat down in his. It gave a little squeak. He placed his elbows on the dark green desk blotter and steepled his fingers under his chin. I had his full attention. He waited for me to speak.
Nervous, I blurted out the first words that I could think of. "It's certainly strange that I have to make an appointment to see my own father," I commented.
He laughed gently. "Well, it is business hours, after all," he said. "What else did you expect?"
His comment took me aback. Even though I sensed that he, too, was joking, I caught the defensive tone in his voice. He was on guard, as if he wasn't quite sure what or how much I knew. I didn't think his response was funny.
"That's convenient, Dad, because what I want to talk to you about certainly isn't dinner conve
rsation."
His arms left the desk. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes riveted to mine. My stomach did a somersault. I had never been afraid of my father. I had never been afraid to discuss anything with him. Suddenly, I felt like a little girl who was in trouble for breaking a valuable object. The way he looked at me now was inscrutable. Was it a warning? Encouragement to speak my mind? I just didn't know. It put me off balance, made me feel self-conscious.
"I don't have much time, Molly," he finally said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I have another appointment coming in thirty minutes. What did you need to talk to me about that we couldn't discuss over the phone?"
I swallowed. This was it. I had never been so afraid to open my mouth.
Leaning back in his chair, his hands resting lightly in his lap, fingers crossed, he looked at me. Did I see concern on his face? Did I see an inkling of worry? Or was that slight smile that I saw on his lips a smirk? No, it couldn't be. It was encouragement. I couldn't get the words out. He noted my internal struggle. Tilting his head slightly to one side, he spoke.
"Molly, since when have you ever been afraid or hesitant to talk to me about anything?" He nodded in encouragement. "Whatever is stuck in your craw, get it out."
So, I did. I started from the beginning, my frustration at not being able to find a teaching job. I lifted my hand when he began to speak, knowing that he was going to tell me that if I had just allowed him to pull a few strings, I would have had a solid teaching position to go into for the new school year. I once again explained that I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to earn my teaching placement and experience life on my own.
I paused for a few seconds, and he remained quiet, knowing that I had more to say. "You know that I took the job as a maid for Luke Benning."
He nodded, not even pretending innocence.