Songbird (Bellator Saga Book 7)

by Cecilia London

  “Any other surprises you have for me?” she asked Jess.

  Jess stood up, wiping her eyes. “That about covers it, I think. I’m going to check on Caroline, since you’re obviously not going to.”

  Leah stood up too but sat down when Tom came to sit beside her. “We should probably get going soon, anyway,” she said.

  Tom glared at Christine as he put his arm around Leah. Message received. She knew damn well that her husband found the topic of homosexuality fairly cringe-inducing but he was apparently going to make her the bad parent now.

  “Don’t,” Christine told him. “Be the good guy. That’s your role in this family anyway.”

  He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and whispered something to Leah.

  They were going to pretend she wasn’t in the room. Fine with her. A few agonizing minutes passed before anyone spoke again. Christine heard footsteps coming down the hall. Jess and Caroline.

  “Come on,” Tom said to Leah, rising to his feet. “You two should probably get going.”

  Christine clenched her fists. She was going to stay exactly where she was.

  Tom still had his arm around Leah but let go of her when Jess materialized. He reached out to embrace his daughter. “Call me when you get home,” he said quietly.

  “I will,” she said, before taking Leah’s hand. She didn’t look at Christine.

  He turned to Caroline. “And you be careful driving that death trap,” he said, pulling her into a giant bear hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to her. She knows she messed up.”

  His whispering wasn’t particularly effective. Christine could hear every word. She was about to point out that she very well hadn’t messed up and had been in full control of her faculties and of her general observations about life and family but once she got a look at Caroline, at the still-visible tracks of tears on her face, she said nothing.

  “It’s fine,” Caroline told Tom briskly, before tossing a glare at Christine. “I think you’d better stay away from me for a while.”

  Christine spun around and went into the dining room, sneaking one last furtive glance into the foyer.

  “Well,” Jess said to Leah. “Let’s go.”

  Tom squeezed his daughter’s hand. “I love you, Jessie.”

  She smiled at him. “I love you too, daddy.”

  This time the door didn’t slam. It clicked shut, rather quietly. Which almost made it worse, because that was the same way Tom would respond. Quietly. Deliberately. Calmly. She found it profoundly annoying that he never lost his temper, would get his anger across using the simplicity of sparse language rather than the more boisterous aspects of his personality.

  He marched into the dining room and waved his finger at her. “You,” he said. “You do more damage to yourself than any of us could ever hope to achieve. And you’re the one who has to live with the consequences.”

  She didn’t want a lecture. Not when the weight of her words was finally starting to sink in. What had she done, and why on earth had she done it? “Thomas-”

  He shook his head. “Don’t. I’m not in the mood. And honestly, I’m not even all that mad about how you treated Jess. It’s not surprising. I’m not sure Jess is all that upset about it, either. But Caroline…” He shook his head again. “You had no right to take whatever it is you’re feeling right now out on her. No right at all.”

  Christine had done it because she could. That was what he left unsaid. Because he knew that no matter what she and Caroline would do or say, they’d always return to each other.

  “Someday,” he said quietly. “Someday you’ll hurt someone too much and they won’t have the kind of heart that your best friend does. That I do. And they’ll let you go rather than seek out the best parts of you, the parts you never show.” He let out a hard breath. “I love you, Christine, but right now I don’t like you very much.”

  Christine blinked as she heard him take the stairs to the second floor one by one, before she sank into one of the dining room chairs and put her head in her hands.

  *****

  Two weeks. It took two weeks before Representative Caroline Gerard appeared in Representative Christine Sullivan’s office in Rayburn. No texts, no calls, no inadvertent meetings in the halls. Caroline typically flitted from place to place while Congress was in session and almost always ran into Christine by chance, but during the past two weeks… radio silence. It made Christine wonder if those chance meetings had purposely been engineered so Caroline could spend time with her.

  Tom’s relative quiet was worse and had gotten to the point that Christine wasn’t sure she wanted to make the short trip home for the coming weekend. It was better to sit in her Capitol Hill apartment alone with her thoughts than be in a house with another person and endure the same stony, judgmental silence day after day.

  It was her job to call. To apologize. To beg forgiveness. There was no middle ground here; her fault was crystal clear and indisputable. But what would she say? What would she do? She had crossed over from bestie spat to groveling territory so quickly that she wasn’t sure how she was expected to engage again without drowning in guilt.

  She kept going to committee meetings. Subcommittees. Caucuses. Anything to keep her distracted. She wasn’t expecting to see Caroline in her office when she returned from a meeting for the House Republican Conference. Especially since Caroline’s husband had given her the cold shoulder during the gathering. Hopefully none of the Capitol Hill snitches had noticed. That would give the D.C. rags fodder for weeks.

  And yet, she wasn’t imagining things. Caroline was there, smoothing down the maize and blue Michigan blanket draped over the couch in her interior office. Christine waved one of her junior staffers away before shutting the door behind her.

  “Subtle,” Caroline said.

  Christine didn’t say anything as she tossed a pile of folders on her desk. Was she supposed to start the dialogue? Was that how it worked?

  “Figured I’d have to make the first move,” Caroline said.

  Christine sighed and sat down. Her husband had to have played a part in this little reunion. “Did Tom put you up to this?”

  “He didn’t put me up to anything. He merely reminded me that I’d have to show up here someday or you’d never speak to me again.”

  A fair point. Tom clearly had his wife’s number, because Christine knew full well this could have dragged on for months if he hadn’t stepped in. She felt so foolish now that Caroline was here. Mortified, in fact. “Caroline—”

  “I’m not mad at you,” Caroline said softly. “I mean, I might be a little hurt but—”

  Christine very carefully avoided eye contact with her. Caroline was more than a little hurt. She and Christine were much alike, in many ways, including their ability to pick apart every statement ever said to them until it had been distorted beyond its original intent. But there would have been no way for Caroline to mistake what she had said, or how she had said it. The magnitude of harm Christine had wrought with her words was unmistakably etched in the fatigue in Caroline’s eyes.

  “I didn’t mean what I said,” Christine mumbled.

  Such a simple thing to say. Was it too much to hope that one statement was all it would take, all that had been holding her back for so long? Could she make her actions disappear, just like that?

  “I know,” Caroline said.

  It couldn’t be that easy. She couldn’t let it be that easy. She had to do more to make it up to her. She owed her best friend that much. “I know Jack loves you.”

  “He does.”

  “And I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a temporary thing.”

  “I know.”

  Why wouldn’t Caroline let her finish? She had a lot to apologize for. “And I certainly—”

  “Chrissy, I’d prefer that we not rehash everything you said. It’s water under the bridge. You don’t need to dwell on it anymore.”

  Christine knew from the tone of her voice that Caroline wa
s speaking the truth. All that damage erased without the need for an official apology? That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. “Those were rotten things to say.”

  “They were,” Caroline agreed.

  Christine twirled a fountain pen in her fingertips. She could make the effort to be introspective, if only for a few seconds. “I’m going to try harder, Caroline. I was angry and hurt and I took it out on you because you were there and I knew you wouldn’t hate me for it.”

  “Stop. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m more concerned about you. How are things with Jess?”

  Christine put the pen down. Yet another reminder that her children had a better relationship with Caroline than with her. “You tell me. I get the impression you talk to her more than I do.”

  “We don’t talk that often,” Caroline said. “When she calls, I answer.”

  Christine stared down at her desk again. “She doesn’t call me.”

  “She doesn’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t know what to say either.”

  “You could listen.” Caroline leaned back, relaxing a little. “Nothing’s changed, Chrissy. She’s still the same person she was before she told you.”

  “She told you first.” Christine took a shaky breath. “That hurt a lot.”

  “I know. It was incredibly hard for me not to tell you.”

  Christine smiled slightly. “Guess I know I can trust you with my secrets, right?”

  Caroline stifled a laugh. “You don’t have any secrets.”

  If only she knew. “That’s because I haven’t told you.”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  Seemed reasonable to test that theory. “My children don’t like me.”

  Caroline sat up straighter. “That’s not true. They love you.”

  “I said like, not love.”

  “They like you.”

  Christine shook her head. Maudlin was setting in. There was no going back. “Not as much as they like you.”

  “Susannah and I speak maybe five times a year, and almost all of those encounters take place when I’m at your home,” Caroline said.

  “And how often do you talk to Jessica?”

  “I told you. When she calls, I answer. Usually on Sundays.”

  “Well,” Christine said. “Good, I guess.”

  Caroline patted the couch. “Stop gawking at me from way over there. Come sit by me.”

  Christine sat right next to her, wondering if Caroline could tell how difficult it was for her not to gravitate in the opposite direction. Away from physical and emotional contact. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her,” she whispered.

  “To Jess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just listen,” Caroline said. “That’s all she wants at this point. Chrissy, nothing has changed. She’s the same wonderful person she was before. She just wants you to understand who she is, and that it’s no big deal.”

  “You make it sound easy and it’s not.”

  Caroline smiled slightly. “That’s because I don’t have the political hang-ups you do.”

  “I don’t have hang-ups. And even if I did, they’re not political,” Christine said defensively.

  “They are,” Caroline said. “Just a little. They’re caught up in your politics and your values and your faith and your perception of the world. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But this is your opportunity to broaden that perception, just a little.”

  Would Caroline had taken it in stride if it had been her daughter? “I just keep wondering… did I do something wrong? Is it genetic? Is it sociological? I’ve been reading these articles, and I found one in The New England Journal of Medicine, and—”

  Caroline cut her off. “Jess isn’t some scientific abstract. She’s your child. Your little girl. And there’s nothing wrong with her. Or with you.”

  Christine reddened. “I know, but—”

  “You want a neat, uncomplicated explanation and there isn’t one.”

  Her limited searches had confirmed as much, so maybe Caroline had a point. She managed a smile. “I’m expecting an easy answer to a complicated question, aren’t I?”

  “It’s who she is,” Caroline said. “Every single human being is complex. Sexuality is a part of that complexity. She’s more than who she loves, but who she loves is important too. She wants you to accept and understand that.”

  Her benevolent statements seemed so reasonable, which flooded Christine with guilt. So many horrible words had slipped past her lips, all to try and hurt the person who least deserved her ire. “I’m trying.”

  Caroline put her arm around Christine. “I know you are. But you need to stop taking everything so personally. Susannah eloped. Jess is gay. Neither one of those things exists solely to hurt you. They just are.”

  Caroline would bring Susannah’s quickie marriage up. Christine made a face. “I still don’t like Jacob.”

  “You don’t have to. But Susannah clearly does.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Christine said quietly. “It’s been a long two weeks. I feel so stupid.”

  “Well.” Caroline hesitated. “You were.”

  Christine hung her head. “I’m not used to… normal friendships or relationships. I don’t know how to react when I’m confronted with something new and unexpected.”

  “Stand up,” Caroline said.

  “What?”

  She rose to her feet and motioned. “Stand up,” she repeated.

  Christine got up off the couch and was greeted with a firm hug. “I forgive you,” Caroline said, squeezing tighter when Christine tried to pull away.

  What was the end goal here? Christine closed her eyes and gave in. Caroline was taller than her but she rested her cheek against her shoulder anyway. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “And I’m probably getting makeup on your jacket.”

  Caroline sniffed and broke the hug. “Honestly, Chrissy. I try to have a meaningful, profound moment and you take the opportunity to make one of your very infrequent jokes.”

  Christine sneaked a glance at Caroline’s suit. “I wasn’t kidding. There’s foundation all over you.”

  “Well.” Caroline swiped at her shoulder. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  Christine shivered even though the room was warm. “I miss living with you,” she said. “It’s hard sharing you with other people when I don’t see you as much.”

  “I miss you too,” Caroline said. “Those were tough circumstances, but I’m glad you were there.”

  Christine took a step closer to her. “Can we maybe go to lunch more often, to make up for it?”

  “Any time you want,” she said.

  She wrung her hands. “I really am sorry, Punky. I can’t believe I spoke to you that way.”

  Caroline leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “I told you not to dwell on it. Let’s leave it in the past. And let’s talk about fun stuff, like all the Republican lady gossip I’ve been missing out on for the past couple weeks.”

  Christine smiled. “Okay.”

  *****

  I stepped back from the bed. No. This was not where I wanted to be. I gathered up the sheets and headed down the hall again, past Susannah’s old room. I’d learned my lesson. Any room once occupied for any period of time by a member of my family, living or dead, wouldn’t be a good place for me either.

  Guest room. The guest room was safe. Or, safer. It still didn’t feel right. A great many things were off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I fell into a fitful sleep.

  *****

  Christine tossed an envelope on the kitchen table before unbuttoning her coat. “You need to look at these,” she said.

  Tom, still nursing his New Year’s hangover, rubbed his eyes. “What’s the good word from Caroline?”

  “This,” Christine said, gesturing toward the envelope. “This is the word. Debatable as to whether it’s good.”

  He gave her a hard look. “Have you been crying?”

&nbs
p; She’d tried to fix herself in the car before coming home but apparently had done an insufficient job. “Yes,” she said tersely.

  Tom undid the clasp, withdrew the papers, gave them the once-over before rubbing his eyes again. “These are recently signed. Susannah prepared these before she left for Paris?”

  Christine sank into the chair next to him. “Caroline said Susie was one of the few people she knew she could trust.”

  Tom flipped through the documents before speaking again. “She’s probably right.”

  “This is a big responsibility,” Christine said. “If you—”

  “There are no ifs. Caroline made her decision. I respect it.”

  “But—”

  Tom patted her hand. “Chrissy, stop.”

  Christine rested her forehead on her palm. She was so very tired. “She caught me off guard. I was completely rude when I went over there because I knew she wanted something. And then she handed me this pile of papers and I…”

  “She knows what she’s doing.”

  Christine found that debatable. Caroline had been poking around in political hidey holes, speaking out, challenging a president who had made it clear he would not be challenged. “I’m afraid she’s going to get herself killed,” she whispered.

  “Christine,” Tom said quietly. “Don’t talk like that.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was telling her to see the glass as half full or reminding her that there was a chance, however faint, that the government had their eyes and ears on the Sullivans as well. In a recent fit of paranoia she had swept the house for recording devices and was convinced someone was listening in on their phone calls. Tom generally tried to dispel her fears but this time… he hadn’t said a word. Because he knew her suspicion was based in reality. They were being watched. Or they were being made to think they were being watched. The practical difference between the two was negligible, since the mere possibility of government surveillance informed their every movement.

  Storm clouds were gathering. She could see them in the distance. She could hear the warnings. And she could attempt to flee by whatever means necessary but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t escape what was coming. None of them could. “Why didn’t we make Susie take Jess with her?” Christine said softly. “She would have done it. I know she would.”