Authors: Barbara Delinsky
“John, I understand that Daran called me yesterday. Did you take that call?”
For the first time since she had known John Hollings, he squirmed. “It was absolutely a madhouse here yesterday, Drew. There were so many calls—”
The gray eyes narrowed. “Did she call?”
“Yes.”
“And why wasn’t she put through to me?” His voice held a challenge that his administrative assistant was fast to meet.
“You were on the phone or out of the office most of the day yourself.”
The line of Drew’s chin squared in anger. “Why didn’t I receive any message that she called?”
“Come on, Drew. She was the last one you wanted to hear from—”
The tall man rose from behind his desk, fists clenched, voice booming. “
And who told you that?
” Then, as quickly, he gained control of himself. In the instant his torrid gaze passed to the next face, that of Leo Alteris. “Did
you
speak with Daran at any point yesterday?”
Leo glanced quickly at John for encouragement but found none. “Yes. She, ah, called several times. I thought I left a message. Perhaps, in the uproar, it was misplaced…”
At that moment, Daran could have spit. It was bad enough that Drew was verifying her own claims before these people. For an instant, she recalled the time, several weeks after she had arrived in Connecticut, when the teller at the bank had refused, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the line of people behind her, to honor her out-of-state check. This, however, was even more humiliating. And to hear John, then Leo …
misplaced, hah!
“Perhaps…” was Drew’s murmured echo as he turned to the last of the trio, the petite receptionist. “And what about you, Cindy? Do you recall speaking with Daran yesterday?”
Of the three, the girl was the only one with the courtesy to lower her head in token remorse. “Yes. I took down her number, but…”
“… but never gave it to me?” he prodded, his voice low and steady. When the young girl shook her head, Drew pulled himself up to a greater height. “Thank you. You’ve answered my questions perfectly. I only wish I hadn’t had to ask them. Now—” He lowered his own head and took a deep breath, turning his back on the group to face his desk. In profile as Daran saw him, there was a sense of defeat written over his features. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to speak with Daran alone. John, please wait for a minute.” Only when he heard the door close quietly behind the other two did he turn, his face a rigid mask of composure. Hands thrust in his pockets, she could not see their tension.
“This is far from over, John. You know that. I’ve never been as disappointed in my staff before. But we’ll discuss that more tomorrow. I’d like you to go out there now and set up a press conference for—” he checked his watch “—an hour from now, at ten o’clock. I’ll have a statement to make at that time.”
John shook his head in doubt. “I’m not sure if they will appreciate the sudden—”
“I don’t really give a damn about the press. Do it! If they don’t like it, that’s their problem. They don’t have to come, if they want to risk missing the story.” Cynicism was something she had never heard before in his tone; the eyes that had not strayed from his face for more than an instant in the last half hour now widened. As the boom of his voice slowly dissipated, John Hollings made his fast exit. Only then did Daran look away, suddenly fearful of what was to come next.
A deep silence penetrated the room for long moments before he spoke. “You’re very quiet. Have you nothing to say for yourself?” The voice was rich yet sober, soft yet demanding. Daran’s was a weak offering by comparison.
“What is there for me to say? I have so little idea of what’s going on here or why, or what you want from me, for that matter.” When she dared to lift her eyes, the ones which speared her from his perch on the edge of the desk constricted her breathing. His distrust, his disdain was made even worse by the pity now etched in his expression.
His voice was drained of all anger when he spoke. “Tell me what you are thinking, Daran.” It was a command, for all its soft intonation. For what seemed an eternity, she debated ignoring it, fearing that to obey would be to magnify the misery, the humiliation, the pain she felt already. But the eyes that had locked into hers gave silent threat. Slowly she began.
“I’m thinking of all the things I should have told you weeks ago, things about my past I couldn’t quite face myself.” On the verge of divulging what none but her parents knew, she wavered.
“Go on.” The voice that urged her to continue was marked with patience. Tearing her eyes from his, she stood, walked to the window, and stared out at the lights of the city beyond.
She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I was married, once, nearly six years ago. It was a disaster—six months of misery. His name was Bill Longley. He was from Ohio also. We met at a fund-raiser; my parents went to many and I often went with them. Bill and I dated for years. The night of my wedding I discovered that I was married to … to … ah, it doesn’t matter. We were divorced after those six months; he has been paying alimony ever since. The money goes into my bank account every month; I have never touched it!” Whirling around, her eyes begged that he believe her. “He went on, three years ago, to win a seat in the House of Representatives. I hadn’t seen him since the divorce until that night, after the bill passed the floor vote, when we went out to celebrate…” Her voice trailed off and she sought silence for the split second it took her to realize that there was still more to be said.
“I
never, never
had any part in a scheme to influence you!” Her words fell against the top of the sandy head, bowed now, hiding his expression. But her own ire had been piqued. “I didn’t want to have anything to do with you to begin with. Life in the political arena with Bill, even though it was all local in Ohio, was brutal enough. When I fell in love with you, I thought that maybe, together, we could buck the system. I was wrong, wasn’t I?” She was trembling now as she faced him, being swept by the minute deeper into the vortex of her own torment.
“I was naive and stupid! But I never expected you to believe that story! How could you have thought that I was capable of doing something like that?” Her screams were abruptly cut off by the startled expression on his face when he lifted it to her gaze. But the fire of emotion, in full flame now, drove her on once more. “I thought you loved me! In my book that implies some basic trust. You chose to believe that shoddy journalistic—”
This time, her words were cut off by the hands that seized her arms and shook her. “Wait a minute, now! I never believed that story! I spent all of yesterday chasing down the source of that ugly piece, and she will have her day in court. But I never, for one minute, believed those allegations. And, speaking of trust, how great was yours in me, for you to pick up and run all the way to Cleveland without even speaking to me? Where was your trust? You said that you loved me, yet at its first test, you doubted me. How do you think that makes me feel? I’ve been around; I knew what we’d be facing if we married. But I wanted to give it a shot…”
As his eyes blazed into hers, Daran’s composure snapped. His own hurt, its very presence a rude awakening, told her how very wrong she’d been. Lifting her hands to cover her eyes, she burst into tears.
For long moments she was aware of nothing save the sorrow that flooded her and the steel grip that steadied her. Then, finally, she was hauled against Drew’s chest and enfolded in that cocoon that offered its unique brand of protection. “God, Daran, please don’t do this to yourself. We’ve both been wrong. I should have let you tell me about Bill before. You did try, but something in me wanted to believe that I was the first man to ever really mean something to you.”
“You were!” Her eyes sought his through her tears, her words short and spoken in gasps. “I never loved Bill. Our marriage just … happened. It went on. There was no sharing, no giving, neither trust nor respect. And, as for sex, I suffered for days after each assault. I never even knew what an orgasm was … until we made love.” Thoughts of the beauty of that night in Montreal brought a resumption of her tears. Again he hugged her to him, rocking her gently.
“Shh, shh. It’s all right,” he crooned. “Everything is going to be all right now.”
Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “Is it? I don’t think it’s ever going to be all right. They’ll always be there. If it isn’t one, it will be another. There will always be someone or something there to ruin it—”
“We won’t let that happen!” The commanding tone of the words by her ear made her want to believe it with all her heart. He was, once more, so sure, so confident, so much in control. “If you still love me as much as I love you, we can fight it!” This time his large hands framed her face, tilting it up toward his. “Do you love me?”
“Oh, Drew, I do!” Hers was a hoarse declaration, broken by lingering sobs, now of happiness and hope. “Do you really think we can do it?”
At last his smile settled on her, helping to erase her skepticism. “I know we can. You trusted me enough once before to open up a new world for you. Can you do it again?”
As she smiled his thumbs wiped away the last of her tears. “I can try.” Her dark brows lifted in unknowing seductiveness.
The hands that had caressed her cheeks now slipped down to her waist, molding her closer to him. With a mischievous smile, he shook his head. “Sorry, not good enough. Trying is for politics; it’s the only way we can phrase our campaign pledges without getting into too much trouble. Loving involves doing, not trying. Well?” He raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Can you trust me to love you for the rest of our lives?”
The adoration alight in her face was warm in her touch as her hands crept to the broad column of his neck. “Yes, Drew. I trust you now … in everything.” The exertion of pressure in her fingers brought his head down for a kiss to seal her pledge. His own was whispered against the sweetness of her lips.
“I will love you always. And that, my dear Dr. Patterson, is a promise.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, the members of the press corps were already gathered in Drew’s office where he led Daran to a seat, then took his own behind his desk and within arm’s reach of her. Their image of mutual composure was miraculous in light of their earlier emotional states. But they were both, now, committed to the limelight and they bore its demands well.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Drew began, speaking without papers or notes before him, “I thank you for coming on such short notice and at this late hour. I’m sure you will, however, understand the urgency of this matter. And I will try to be brief.” A low-murmured wave of humor spread through the group at Drew’s unspoken reference to his long-winded colleagues. “To my right—” he turned slightly and cast her a gentle glance “—is Dr. Daran Patterson. As a child psychologist well respected in her field, she has worked for the past four months as a member of my staff, helping to shape the Rights of Minors Act which the Senate has recently approved. There have been some unfortunate allegations made that Dr. Patterson has attempted to compromise me in respect to the judicial nomination of Rudolph Sweet. I would right now like to deny all such allegations as utterly false and malicious. At no time in our acquaintance has Daran Patterson ever attempted such a thing, nor would it have possibly succeeded had she done so. I believe she knows, as do those of you who have followed my career, that I speak my own mind.
“There were allegations,” he went on succinctly, “that Dr. Patterson has been receiving money on a regular basis from a member of the House of Representatives, William Longley of Ohio. This claim is true. For a short period of time five years ago, the then State Senator Longley and Dr. Patterson were married. The payments she receives are alimony payments, as the court records will corroborate.” The bent heads of the journalists focused on their notes while Drew focused on his thoughts, and Daran on her hands which had begun to tremble in spite of herself. As though sensing this, with all he had on his mind, Drew still reached over to squeeze a hand for a brief moment, his eyes reminding her of her promise to him moments before. “I might add at this point,” he continued, looking at her a second longer before facing front again, “that those payments will end before the New Year. Daran and I hope to be married as soon as the Senate adjourns for the year.” Again a murmur raced through the group.
An innate sense of dignity held Drew’s eyes steady and his hands clasped confidently on the desk. “When we decided to marry, we knew of the odds facing us. We never dreamed that we would be hit so soon, however. The reporter in question behaved in an irresponsible manner, for which she will face the appropriate charges. Her gossip-mongering tarnishes those others of you in her profession, most of whom I know and respect.
“An injustice has been done not only to myself and my fiancée—” the title sent a thrill of excitement through Daran, whose face bore a glow of pride, “—but to Congressman Longley, with whom I have been in direct communication during this ordeal.” The look he threw back at her was subtle, a promise of later explanations to satisfy her surprise at this latest discovery.
“An injustice has been done, as well, to the Honorable Rudolph Sweet, whose nomination I
will
support with my full conviction that he is a wise and able man, possessing the dignity and integrity to befit the United States Supreme Court.
“An injustice has been done to the image of government officials today, who have been so blemished by the wrongs of their predecessors that they find themselves constantly on the defensive rather than on the offensive.
“But finally, and worst, an injustice has been done to every American, whose right it is to hear and read the truth from the mouths and pens of those entrusted to seek it out.” With a deep breath, he paused, looked gently back at Daran, then ended. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Now if you have any questions, I’d be glad to answer them, as much as it is in my ability to do so.”
Amid the upshoot of hands and the buzz of voices, Daran’s eyes never left Drew’s tall form, standing now with studied ease, before the desk. The skill and grace with which he parried questions only enhanced the respect she felt for him. As he won over this crowd and this issue, so he had won over her heart.