Chessa rubbed Sunny’s velvety soft, wheat-colored muzzle. “I could do this every day,” she said, and then laughed. “It was such a thrill, galloping down that hill like that—although to be honest, I thought I was going to die for a minute there.”
Leif started to laugh too. “You should have seen yourself when you got off that horse.”
“Hey, I didn’t look that bad, did I?”
“You looked like you had just been on the most terrifying thrill ride of your life. And no, you didn’t look bad. You looked…beautiful.”
Chessa blushed and tried to avert her gaze from his, but Leif stepped closer to her. Their eyes locked for a few moments.
Chessa suddenly looked away, feeling desire run hot through her entire body.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Richards….”
“Please, call me Chessa.”
“Chessa.”
She liked how he said her name. Don’t get sidetracked, she reminded herself. You came here on important business, remember.
“I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me for being so forward.”
“That’s okay. So, Leif, do we have a deal?”
He backed a step away from her and squinted his eyes, thinking. She watched as conflicting emotions contorted his face. He frowned. “I’m sorry Chessa. I want to believe you but…I can’t agree to your request. I need to win this election. I need to bring your husband down.”
“But you could still win even if you don’t.”
“I don’t see how. Besides, I’d be condoning your father-in-law’s company and human egg trafficking.”
“But two wrongs don’t make a right. You don’t know the whole truth at this point.”
“I know enough.”
But…I thought you were starting to trust me. I thought you were starting to like me. I thought we just shared something… Her thoughts were left unspoken. Instead she said, “I thought you were a good man. But you’re just as bad my husband.” Chessa wanted to take back her words, said in desperation, but it was too late.
Leif raised his voice in indignation. “You don’t even know me! I don’t know why I listened to you this long. Talk about truth…maybe you need to face your own truth. You want to divorce your husband and yet you’re here defending him. You say you’re really trying to protect me, but what you really want me to do is in his—and your—best interests. If any sane, rational person looked objectively at what you’re asking of me, they’d say I’d lost my marbles if I were to agree to it. None of this makes sense.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Chessa was starting to have doubts herself. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. “I thought I was trying to do the right thing, look out for the greater good. I guess I was mistaken.”
At the same time, Chessa also felt humbled by what Leif had said. Even though his words were harsh, she knew he was right. She felt like she had just had a “light bulb” moment. I really do need to face my own truth. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time I face reality, win or lose. It’s time I look at my own life and make some changes instead of waiting to see what happens. I need to find out who I am. Not who Chessa the wife of Darren Richards, US senator and presidential candidate is. But, of course, you probably think I’m just saying that now to get you to agree with me and drop the story.”
Leif remained quiet for a few moments. “It’s late. I think you better go.”
Chessa looked at her watch and gasped in horror. She had told her husband she’d be flying back later tonight and had booked an eleven p.m. flight.
Maybe if she hurried she might just make it. “I have to run. I’m sorry. Good luck.”
“Same to you, Chessa.”
Gravel flew as she drove off with the Secret Service agent in the car behind her. Oh well, I tried, she thought, attempting to console herself and stop the tears that threatened to cloud her vision.
CHAPTER 16
Chessa was dropped off by taxi at her empty house in Manhattan at two a.m., again escaping any media attention, and more importantly avoiding her husband. Darren was already in Pennsylvania. He had texted her before she left that he would be arriving home later that next evening for dinner after giving speeches at the University of Pennsylvania and Philadelphia City Hall.
She caught a few hours of sleep, then got up, showered, and headed into work at Safe Horizon. Chessa had only been working sporadically at the women’s counseling center since she had been going on the various campaign trips with Darren. The staff understood, but Chessa missed her work and wanted to do what she could when she had the opportunity to help.
She met Stephanie for a quick lunch at the local deli, her bodyguard sitting at a table nearby. Knowing she faced a difficult challenge ahead of her in having to tell Darren about her trip, Chessa figured she should seek the comforting advice of her cousin-in-law.
Chessa knew she had to tell her husband about her jaunt to Lexington before he found out from someone else and thought the worst. God forbid he see it on the news or read about it in the paper, she thought. Or worse yet, hear it from the Secret Service. Even though she hadn’t broken any laws that would give her bodyguard reason to talk about the details of her rendezvous in Kentucky, Chessa still didn’t know who she could or couldn’t trust. And however he finds out, Darren will think the worst anyway, so better that I be honest and come clean as soon as possible.
Being honest was usually not easy, especially when so much was at stake, she realized. But she also knew the truth in the Al-Anon saying, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” Even if he didn’t find out from other sources, until she told him the truth, her secret would fester inside her like a cancer eating away at her insides.
Stephanie recommended sticking to the facts: She had gone to see Leif Mitchell to dissuade him from giving the story to the press, which she had been warned by Amy he was about to do, because she was concerned about the welfare of thousands of innocent lives that could be damaged as a result.
Chessa felt a little better when she arrived at the shelter again after lunch. Then Amy called, sending her mind spinning. She shut the door to her small office so no one at work could hear her conversation.
“So what did you do?” Amy’s tone was mildly accusatory.
“What do you mean?” Chessa hadn’t told anyone else about her trip.
“You know what I mean. Leif Mitchell called me last night and left me a message that he was mistaken and didn’t have a story after all.”
Chessa couldn’t believe what her friend was saying. That must mean Leif had changed his mind! Relief flooded through her. “I went to see him.”
“You what?”
“I know it sounds crazy, and if you tell a soul I’ll deny it. You and Stephanie are the only two who know.
“Your husband doesn’t know?”
“No, I’m planning to tell him when he comes home tonight.”
“Are you out of your mind? Darren is going to kill you.”
“Let’s hope not. Maybe it is good that you know, so you’re my witness.”
“So back up. Why did you go see Leif Mitchell? Where was he? What did you do? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”
“Nothing like that happened.” Chessa knew her friend was referring to an affair. “Although he is really handsome close up.”
“You lucky bum.”
“Amy, lest you forget, I’m married. Anyway, at first he was really mad at me, of course—me being the enemy and all. Then at last he heard me out. I went down there to offer my support to him. I’ve decided I don’t want Darren to win the election. I know Leif is the best candidate. And I don’t care anymore if that means not becoming the First Lady”
“But Chessa, all the good work you were planning to do! You can’t give up now.”
“I know, but living with the truth is more important.”
“So what happened to my story?”
“I guess Leif realized there was no story—that he was just digging up dirt to throw in Darren’s face because
he was mad about your story on the abortion.” Okay, so I don’t really know what his thought process actually was but it is some form of the truth. Chessa was doing her best to kill her friend’s interest in the story and keep her from stirring the political pot further, since it seemed already about to boil over.
But Amy was a tough sell. “And you helped him realize that, huh?” Frustration and wariness crept into her friend’s tone.
“Amy, you have to believe me when I tell you there’s a much bigger story waiting for you if you just hold off until after the election. It won’t be one of these fly-by-night election sour-grapes stories that will be forgotten in a day or two. But if you start snooping around now, you’ll only waste your time—and perhaps shoot yourself in the foot, since no one who’s legitimate and doesn’t have a political axe to grind will want to talk to you.”
Amy’s tone turned from annoyance to disappointment. “Okay, I’ll back off for now. But if I’m not the first one to break this story, I may have to disown you as my friend.”
“Deal.”
“So tell me about Leif. What’s he like?”
Chessa told Amy that Leif was true to the persona people saw on television, only more intelligent, kind, and good-looking. She left out the details of the horseback ride, the way he looked into her eyes, and her feelings toward him. Those she would have to somehow bury, or take to her grave.
Chessa lost track of time once she was back at Safe Horizon. A young woman carrying an infant in her arms had come in with a swollen, bruised face and a bloodied lip she had received from her boyfriend for leaving him. Like so many others in similar situations, she had stayed with him to try to make it work until she could take no more. Unlike so many others, she had finally walked away and sought help before it was too late.
So Chessa was later than she meant to be when she pulled up to their house on the Upper East Side. She had wanted to get home at least an hour before Darren to fix a nice dinner for him. She had planned to dress in something pretty and fix one of his favorite dishes.
But as soon as she entered the house, she knew none of that mattered. Darren sat sullenly in a recliner in the living room, a glass of straight whiskey in his hand. He had loosened his tie but was still in his dress clothes and shoes.
Chessa could tell immediately that it wasn’t his first drink when he stood to greet her. His face was flush and he slurred his words a little bit as he welcomed her home and gave her a perfunctory hug.
Chessa’s heart dropped with dismay. She was hoping to talk to Darren when he was sober. So she decided to make small talk, delaying the inevitable. “Sorry I’m late. We had a lot going on at work. Where have you been?” she asked, not looking at Darren as she sat her briefcase and purse down on a chair and hung her coat up in the foyer closet. “I thought I’d beat you home.” She turned to find her husband standing, glaring at her.
“I bet you did.” She noticed Darren’s tone was acidic. “What do you mean where have I been? I’ve been working hard, trying to get votes. Where have you been?”
Chessa felt a stab of fear clutch her insides with its icy claws. Here goes, she thought. “You mean my trip?”
“Of course I mean your trip.”
“Let’s sit down and discuss it.”
Darren sat back down in the recliner. Chessa took a seat nearby on the couch and took a deep breath.
“I went to see someone you wouldn’t approve of me seeing…but I did it for you, for us, for all of us. I believe it was the right thing to do.”
“Chessa, can you get to the point? It’s been a long day and I have a splitting headache.”
Although his eyes were tired and bloodshot, Chessa felt they were like lasers focused on her now. There was nowhere to hide, and no way to postpone the truth any longer.
“I went to see Leif Mitchell.”
Darren sat up on the edge of his chair, knocking his drink over and sending its contents across the cream-colored carpeting. He let out a swear word as he picked up the glass and banged it down on the end table next to him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.” Chessa’s words tumbled out in a rush. “I found out from Amy that Leif was going to give her a story on RA Technologies and their use of harvested eggs for stem cell research along with an allegation that what the company was doing constituted human egg trafficking. I knew that if the story broke, not only would it possibly damage your candidacy but could harm a lot of people if it stood in the way of the cure for diabetes. I wanted to catch him off guard, so I went down to see him in Kentucky unannounced. And I was successful. Leif agreed not to talk to Amy about—”
“Leif?!” Darren stood up and screeched the word at her. “You’re calling him Leif? Like you’re best buds or something? This is my enemy, and you went to see him?” As he hurled questions at her like poisonous darts, he strode toward her slowly, his voice lowering into a snide growl. “You went to talk to Governor Leif Mitchell—let me guess—at his horse ranch, I bet? Did he sing you a song? How could you betray me like this? How could you go behind my back and actually go see him? I bet he got quite a kick out of it. I bet he’s still down there laughing at my expense. And you actually believed him, didn’t you?”
Chessa stood up, her heart pounding. Her husband continued to walk slowly toward her, until his face was inches away, towering over her. He advanced, his big frame backing her against the living room wall, his red eyes bulging with rage.
She cowered backward until her back was against the wall and there was nowhere left for her to go. “I d-did. He’s actually not so bad—”
“Why, you little…” Darren reached out and wrapped his beefy hand around Chessa’s throat.
He’s going to strangle me… Chessa closed her eyes and felt his fingers pressing into her neck—hurting her—and her airway start to constrict. She tried to fight back but flailed helplessly against him. She couldn’t breathe and she started to gag. I’m going to die, she thought, starting to lose consciousness.
Then suddenly she felt him loosen his grip. She opened her eyes in time to see him stumble backward, clutching his hands to his chest. She doubled over, heaving for air, then slowly drew in deep breaths until she regained her balance and stopped seeing stars.
“Darren!” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It sounded gravelly. Chessa reflexively reached out for him as he fell backward, crashing onto the floor, choking now himself, unable to catch his breath.
After fully regaining her faculties, Chessa wildly searched for her cell phone, which she had left in her purse, and dialed 9-1-1, telling the person on the other end of the line that she believed her husband was having a heart attack.
The minutes spent waiting for the ambulance passed like hours. Chessa only left Darren’s side to find a decorative silk scarf to wrap around her neck so no one would see the red marks which would soon darken into bruises that her husband’s fingers had left there.
Once the paramedics arrived, time seemed to hurry past in a frenzied blur. After telling them what had happened, leaving out all but the part where he actually stumbled and fell clutching at his chest, Chessa rode in the ambulance with her prone husband, whose eyes were large with fear over the oxygen mask he wore. She couldn’t look into them because of her own fear of the other emotions she would see if she did—rage, spite, malice.
The torrent of activity continued once they reached New York Presbyterian Hospital. Doctors and nurses converged on the gurney bearing the Democratic presidential candidate and within seconds, Chessa was relegated to onlooker status and then ushered into a private waiting room.
She had called Darren’s parents, asking them to call his sister, and then phoned Pete Connor, asking him to in turn to call Janine Secour. Then she sat and waited.
She gulped down a sob, feeling completely alone. There was one other person she wanted to call, but thought better of it. For some inexplicable reason, Chessa wanted badly to tell Leif what happened. But she knew she couldn’t. He was s
till the “enemy.” And if her instincts were correct, he would want to kill Darren for what he just did to her.
Before she had a chance to delve further into her wishful yet fruitless thinking, Darren’s doctor commanded her attention. He came in to tell her that Darren had been stabilized and was headed into surgery.
Then Don and Dorothy Richards hurried in, and two minutes later, Deborah Richards and Pete Connor were in the room—all of them hurling questions at the doctor, who had to excuse himself when his pager went off and head back to the operating room.
Chessa greeted her in-laws, who, it seemed, looked at her with a mix of concern and accusation. Don’t wonder what they’re thinking. Don’t even go there, she told herself. She repeated to them the same abbreviated version of what had happened that she had given to the paramedics and the doctor.
“Darren wasn’t feeling well.” I won’t tell them he was drunk. “I had just arrived home from work and we were talking about the day.” I won’t mention that I had told him I went to see his opponent Leif Mitchell the night before. “Then he just started clutching his chest, turned red, and fell down onto the floor. He couldn’t breathe. I called 9-1-1.” Oh, and he tried to strangle me first.
When Chessa was allowed to enter her husband’s room following his surgery, she did so alone and with much trepidation.
She tried hard not to feel guilty or to blame herself for her husband’s heart attack. She was grateful that she at least had her Al-Anon tools to rely on—namely the phone numbers of a handful of friends in the program, some of the literature which addressed issues just like this with stories from fellow members who shared how to “detach” and remind her it wasn’t her fault, and of course, the Twelve Steps.
While she waited for what seemed like an eternity, Chessa rehearsed steps one, two, and three in her head, realizing she was powerless over all that had occurred, trying to believe all over again that her Higher Power, whom she called God, would restore her to “sanity,” and praying to have faith enough to turn her life and her will over to the care of God as she understood Him.
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