Harmony Cabins (12 page)

“Your campaign for public office isn't a decision you can make on your own.” Darius's muscles were screaming for him to shake Simon until his father's teeth rattled. “We need to make that decision as a family. It affects all of us. Mom and I don't want you to run. We want you to drop your petition.”

Simon crossed his arms. “We've talked about this before. My answer's still no.”

Darius rubbed the back of his neck, where the muscles were still knotted. “Are you going to let this decision destroy your marriage?”

“Your mother's not going to leave me.”

“What if she does? Is that a risk you're willing to take?”

Simon frowned. “I've provided for my family. Now I've decided to do something for myself.”

“You're being selfish.” The urge to shake his father grew stronger and stronger.

“No, you are. This is what I want. You should support me, instead of trying to talk me out of it—which you won't be able to do.”

“The interview you gave the
Monitor
is bullshit.” Darius massaged the back of his neck again. “The town knows those initiatives you claimed to have proposed to the council came from Doreen.”

“I would have proposed them if she hadn't.”

Darius stared at his father, seeing a stranger. “Can you hear yourself? Drop the petition, Dad. You've done enough damage to your reputation and to the family. Don't tear the town apart as well.”

“Stop asking me to drop my petition. I'm not going to.”

“Why not?”

Simon's thin cheeks flushed. “Because it's what I want.”

Darius considered the evasive expression in Simon's dark eyes, the flush on his thin cheeks and the hesitation in his voice. Realization dawned on Darius. “Who talked you into doing this?”

Simon's eyes widened. “No one. This was my idea.”

“I don't believe you.”

Simon shrugged. “Believe what you want.”

It was so obvious. Darius should have realized it sooner. Someone else was behind Simon's decision to run for public office. Who was it, and what were they after?

 

 

“How can you read the Sunday paper on your laptop?” Audra's question broke Jack's concentration.

He half sat, half lay on his dark plaid sofa with his computer balanced on his lap. Jack looked up from the screen and the online version of the
Monitor
's Sunday paper. His lips twitched with humor. “That's the third time you've asked that question.”

“Actually, it's only the second.” Audra was curled up on the recliner, positioned catty-corner to the sofa.

Jack surrendered to a smile. “My answer's still the same. The
Monitor
's online edition isn't as large as a major metropolitan's Sunday paper. Besides, an online newspaper subscription is more convenient.”

“You mean it fits your hermit lifestyle. I prefer the feel of newsprint in my hands.” Audra shook the newspaper she was reading.

Jack grunted. “Don't fear technology.”

“You've offended me.” Audra hummed to herself as she skimmed the pages of the metropolitan newspaper's Sunday edition. “Remember, if I hadn't gone into town to get a newspaper after our morning jog, you wouldn't have had Doreen's fresh Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie.”

Jack stared at Audra. It was a pastime in which he enjoyed indulging. He took in her pixie features, winged eyebrows, high cheekbones, full lips, and stubborn chin. Her warmth reached out and wrapped around him. Today she was dressed in a rainbow of colors: a pink-and-orange striped T-shirt and orange shorts.

He nodded. “Doreen's brownies are a benefit of going into town.”

“That's an understatement.” Audra sounded distracted. Her smooth caramel forehead was wrinkled.

Jack sat up on the sofa. “What's wrong?”

Audra looked to him, then back to the newspaper. “There's an article about Trinity Falls in this paper.”

Jack frowned. “Why would a newspaper in Cleveland run an article about us?”

Audra hesitated. “It's not exactly about the town. It's more about the town's founding family.”

Jack's blood ran cold. He closed his laptop and stood from the sofa. He extended his hand toward Audra. “Let me see.”

It was all there in black and white. The article moved quickly past his family's founding of Trinity Falls in northeastern Ohio at the base of the three waterfalls. It then took its time covering Jack's life.

Where did the reporter get his information about his marriage to Kerry? When the article turned to Zoey, Jack saw red.

CHAPTER 12

Jack crushed the edges of the newspaper in his fists. The words became a hazy red blur. “Where did they get this information about my daughter?”

“Jack, I'm so sorry.” Audra stood beside him.

The cold darkness grew toward him. Jack crossed the family room, needing space. “Her medical records are private.”

“Perhaps they did an Internet search.”

He pulled his right hand over his close-cropped hair, crushing the newspaper in his left. “Details like these wouldn't turn up in a basic search.”

“Maybe they went deeper than a basic search.” Audra's suppositions exacerbated Jack's frustration.

“I need to know.” Jack pushed the words through clenched teeth. The veins above his temples throbbed aggressively. “How did they get this personal information about my family?”

“You have every right to an answer.”

Jack turned back to Audra. He strained to focus on her through a fog of emotion. “But?”

“I don't understand why you're so angry.”

“How would you feel if this happened to you?”

“You're angry about more than the invasion of your privacy.”

Looking into her champagne eyes, Jack saw more curiosity than concern. A sense of calm hovered near him, just out of reach. He fought it. “They don't have the right to discuss my daughter.”

“Then who does?”

“What?” He struggled to understand her.

“No one talks about Zoey. You haven't said much about her, and the only thing people in town say is that she died too young.”

“You've asked other people about her?” A pulse pounded in his inner ear. He could barely think through the buzzing.

“Yes, I did. Zoey existed, Jack. Why don't you want people to know about her, to talk about her?”

His gaze lowered to the newspaper in his fist. “She's not their business.”

“Not talking about Zoey is hurting you.” Audra closed the distance between them. “As a songwriter, I've taught myself to express my feelings in my lyrics. It's cathartic. I think it would help if you did the same thing.”

“I disagree.” Jack gritted his teeth.

She placed her small hand over his damaged heart. “Tell me about Zoey.”

Audra's words were a command. They allowed no resistance. A chain of images played across Jack's memory: bringing his baby girl home, teaching her to ride her bike, helping her with her homework, taking walks in the woods, fishing at Pearl Lake.

“She was my daughter.” His voice broke.

“What did she like to do?” Audra stepped closer. Her words were as soft as a lullaby. Her warmth did battle with the ice pressing against his chest.

“I read to her.”

“You told me. Fairy tales.” Audra smiled and Jack allowed the calm to settle over him.

“Every night before she went to sleep.” He'd tuck her in, then settle into the chair beside her bed to read to her—fairy tales, Bible stories, children's books. At first, Zoey would pepper him with questions, which he'd do his best to answer. The questions dwindled as the minutes flew by and sleep overcame her.

“What else?” Audra's expression softened. She dropped her hand from his chest.

“Zoey hated bedtime. Kerry would make her hot cocoa to help her sleep.” Jack chuckled. “She'd sip the cocoa one drop at a time so she could stay up later.”

“Smart girl.” Audra's laughter was magical. It had the power to vanquish the cold darkness.

Jack took her hand to lead her back to the sofa. He pulled her down to sit beside him. “It drove Kerry nuts, but I had a hard time keeping a straight face.” He chuckled again. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“Tell me something else.” Audra leaned against him. “Tell me how she made you feel.”

Jack sobered. “Is this more of your songwriting tricks?”

“They're not tricks.”

“I'm not good at talking about feelings.”

“Give it a try.”

“This is stupid.”

“Come on.” Audra nudged him with her shoulder.

Jack pressed his head against the sofa's back and closed his eyes. “She made me happy. She gave my life a purpose. She made me feel . . . heroic.” Seconds ticked as he waited for Audra's reaction. In her silence, he felt dumb.

Audra's sigh quavered. “That was beautiful.”

“She made me feel as though I could do anything. Bring a fairy tale to life, make a gourmet meal.” His throat worked as emotions threatened to constrict his muscles. “Find a cure for cancer.”

Jack kept his eyes closed. But he felt Audra rise from the sofa to settle on his lap. His arms tightened like a vise around her waist. His body shook with silent grief.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered into his ear. “I'm so sorry, Jack. I only meant to remind you of the happy times you shared with Zoey. Don't distance yourself from those memories.”

Jack drew her closer. Her attempts to remind him had worked. But those happy times only made him miss his daughter more. How could he ever forgive himself for failing his little girl?

 

 

Monday morning, Darius propped his hip on the corner of Opal Gutierrez's desk and waited for her to arrive at work. His pulse beat a maddening tattoo in his temple. He gripped Saturday's newspaper in his fist, covering the article about Simon and the half-page color photo that accompanied it. He'd waited two days to confront the reporter over the story she'd written about his father. Instead of defusing his temper, the delay had increased it tenfold.

“This is a sexy surprise.” Opal's voice preceded her into the cubicle. She stopped less than an arm's length from Darius and lowered her voice. “It would've been even better if this were your bedroom.”

Darius ignored her suggestion. “I read your article on my father's petition.”

Opal turned her back to him, bending low to store her purse in her desk's bottom drawer. Her raven hair swung forward. Its straight strands masked her thin, tan features. “No need to thank me. Take me to dinner and we'll call it even.”

“I'm not thanking you. I'm not taking you to dinner, either.”

She straightened, facing him as she shrugged out of her navy blazer. Her coal black eyes sent him a sizzling look. “You may change your mind once you see what's on the menu.”

Darius wasn't interested in her games. “Why did you let my father take credit for things you know he didn't do?”

Opal stilled. “What?”

Darius lifted the newspaper in his hand to help jog her memory. He wanted an answer, damn it. “When you interviewed him Friday, you let my father take credit for other people's work.”

He tracked her as she maneuvered herself farther into her cubicle.

“Hey, I was taking notes. He was the one making the claims.” Opal took her seat behind her Formica desk and crossed her long legs. Her short navy skirt rose midway up her thigh.

“And you didn't think to question him on anything he said?” Darius struggled with his irritation.

“It's not my job to vet his answers.”

“Yes, it is.”

Indignation snapped in Opal's eyes. “How?”

“You're supposed to interview the subject. You're a newspaper reporter, not a Dictaphone.”

“Did you talk to Daddy about his lies?”

“Yes, I did. Now I'm talking to you.”

Opal leaned forward on her chair. She aimed a finger at his face. “You're pretty high and mighty, lover. If you're God's gift to journalism, why are you here at the
Monitor,
instead of at
The New York Times
?”

“Why are you?”

She threw herself back against her chair. “Back off, Knight. Liu already read me the riot act.”

Opal sounded as though she expected Darius to feel sorry for her. He didn't.

“Liu spoke with you?” Darius mentally crossed Loretta Liu, the
Monitor
's managing editor, off his hit list.

“She woke me Saturday morning, then spent fifteen minutes screeching at me and threatening my job. She put me and the entire weekend copydesk on permanent detention.”

“Good.” Darius was satisfied his editor would keep a closer watch over Opal's work. He straightened from the other reporter's desk.

Opal caught his wrist. “Why are you so upset about the story?”

Darius shook off her hand. “It's not accurate.”

“Give me a break, Darius. Do you have some sort of hero worship for Doreen Fever?”

“She's done a lot for the town.” Darius turned to leave, but Opal's next question stopped him.

“Why don't you want your father to run for office?”

“I never said that.” He met her eyes over his shoulder.

Opal gave him a shrewd look. “It's written all over your face.”

“Are you claiming to have reporter's intuition now? Pity you didn't use it Friday.”

“Are you saying I'm on the right track?”

“No, I'm not.” Darius's tone was as icy as the anger he held in check.

“It would make a good story.” Opal lifted her arms as though framing a photo. “‘Hometown Hero Votes Against Father in Mayoral Election.'”

Darius's blood ran cold. “Try sticking to the facts. It would be a refreshing change for you.”

Opal's black gaze frosted over. “What does your family have to hide, Darius?”

He returned Opal's heated glare with a cool regard, then left her cubicle. The trouble he'd predicted had started even before Simon's petition passed. What would happen to his family once his father's campaign began in earnest?

Doreen checked the next agenda item for her Monday meeting with one of the town council's subcommittees. It was the Founders Day Celebration invitation to State Representative Isaac Green. She hated the idea of Representative Green attending the event, but it would be a mistake not to invite the elected official.

She looked at the three council members seated across the table in the Trinity Falls Town Hall small conference room. They seemed bored.

Doreen tapped the agenda with her clear plastic pen. “We need to let Jack know we've invited Representative Green to the Founders Day Celebration.”

“No, we don't.” Council member Christopher Ling's tone was flat, as though he didn't want to debate the issue.

“Why not?” The air conditioner blasted the small, blue-carpeted room. Doreen pulled her rose linen blazer more tightly to her.

“Doreen, I believe you're being hasty.” Nessa leaned back on her seat. Her round brown eyes were clouded with concern. The dark brown skin around her mouth was tight. “Representative Green may not even attend the event.”

Doreen faced Nessa. “But he might. I don't want to leave this to chance.”

CeCe Roben snorted, drawing her fingers through her pencil-straight auburn hair. “I would be more concerned about pissing off Jack unnecessarily. It took you long enough to convince him to participate. Why risk having him change his mind when we don't even know whether there'll be a problem?”

“It's common courtesy.” Doreen swept her hand to encompass the council members. “Wouldn't you want to know?”

Christopher shrugged. “What's the worst that could happen? They'd see each other on the stage. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is Isaac Green was sleeping with Jack's wife while they were still married and their daughter was dying.” She shouldn't need to remind him of that painful scandal.

CeCe folded her hands on the table. “The situation would be very awkward. I understand your concern. But I still say we can afford to wait, at least until we hear back from Green's office.”

These meetings with members of the Trinity Falls Town Council's Events Subcommittee were intended as updates. She wasn't seeking approval.

Doreen sat straighter on the blue-cushioned swivel chair. “I've followed up with Representative Green's office twice. I haven't heard from anyone.” Yet another reason she disliked the state representative. “I don't want to wait too long to tell Jack. He'll need time to prepare.”

Nessa glanced around the table. “Do we really believe Jack will honor his commitment to the event if he thinks his ex-wife and her new husband will be in attendance?”

Doreen's resentment stirred at the insult to Jack. “I think Jack deserves the opportunity to make that decision.”

Nessa's eyebrows arched. “I don't. Besides, Kerry may not accompany Representative Green to Trinity Falls. The situation would be uncomfortable for her as well.”