by Regina Hart
Doreen’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Do you really think Simon’s qualified to be mayor of Trinity Falls?”
Leonard cut another slice of steak. “Just because I signed his petition doesn’t mean I’m going to vote for him.”
“Simon thinks you are.”
Would he? Doreen desperately wanted an answer to that.
“I didn’t tell him that.” Leonard continued eating.
Doreen lowered her knife and fork. “Then why did you sign his petition?”
“If he wants to run for mayor, he should be able to. Who are we to decide who runs and who doesn’t?”
Doreen pushed aside her half-eaten dinner. Tonight the steak and mashed potatoes didn’t deliver the comfort they usually gave her. “You surprise me, Leo. You don’t have any trouble with Simon running for mayor. But you resent my campaign. Why is that?”
“I’m not in a relationship with Simon.”
Doreen willed Leonard to meet her gaze. “You’re supporting Simon’s petition because you want someone else to be mayor.”
Leonard finished his dinner. He set his knife and fork on the empty plate. “I’m not going to campaign for Simon, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But will you vote for me?” Doreen barely breathed while she waited for Leonard’s reply.
Seconds stretched like minutes. What was taking him so long to answer? It wasn’t a trick question.
Leonard leaned back on his chair. “I’ll listen to what you both have to say, then make my decision. That’s what I do for every election.”
That’s his response? He didn’t say he’d vote against her, nor would he commit to supporting her. Doreen had no idea his nonanswer would hurt so much.
Dinner was over.
She stood from the table. “I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to earn your vote, although I’d think you knew me well enough to know I deserve it.”
She choked on the words. They’d been friends for decades. They’d been lovers for a year. He wanted them to be something more. But she shouldn’t have to choose between being his lover and being mayor.
Leonard stood. “Would you be running for mayor if Paul were still alive?”
Doreen braced her hand on the back of her chair to keep her balance. “Is that what this is about? You’re comparing our relationship to what I had with Paul?”
“I have a right to know.”
“What gives you that right?” The words ripped from her throat. Her body shook with outrage. “The fact that we’re sleeping together?”
“Is that all our relationship is to you?”
“I’m through with defending myself to you.” Doreen fisted her hands.
“I just want to know where I stand in your new life. What role do I play?”
“I’ve told you how I feel. I respect your right to decide if that’s enough for you. But I will not continually apologize or explain myself to you.”
Leonard nodded once. “Then I’ve made my decision. This semirelationship isn’t enough for me. I need more.”
His words took her breath away. Maybe she should have known this would happen. Instead, Leonard had caught her off guard as he turned and walked out of her home. Out of her life?
Saturday evening, Darius’s mother let him into his childhood home. He watched Ethel as she locked the front door. His mother stayed fit with aerobics classes at the university. She was well-groomed, with minimal makeup. Not a hair out of place. Her leaf green sundress complemented her smooth maple skin. Only her fuzzy bedroom slippers seemed out of place.
“Is Dad home?”
“I don’t know where your father is.” Ethel didn’t sound as though she cared, either.
Darius followed his mother into the great room. The space was large and tidy, well-maintained rather than cared for. The white walls were sparsely covered with flowers Ethel had dried and framed. The fireplace’s maple mantel on the far wall displayed her collection of ornamental birds—glass, china, porcelain, and wood. Heavy red curtains covered the two large front windows. Was Ethel shutting the town out or closing herself in?
The room was devoid of family mementoes, no pictures commemorating his parents’ wedding or anniversaries. There weren’t photographs chronicling his birth or childhood. Had they ever been a real family?
Darius looked at his mother seated on the stiff red paisley sofa in front of the television. She was watching a cable network reality show.
He checked his Timex watch as he lowered himself onto the matching armchair. It wasn’t yet five o’clock. “Will Dad be home for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Hush.” His mother pointed the remote at the television screen and pumped up the volume.
Darius raised his voice to be heard above the program. “How long has he been gone?”
“Darius.” His mother turned toward him. Her scowl had been a familiar expression since childhood. “I’m watching my show. I don’t know where your father is, and I don’t care.”
“How do you feel about his petition?” Darius knew the answer before she spoke.
Ethel’s expression darkened. “How do you think I feel? I don’t want your father to be mayor of Trinity Falls. I don’t even want him in the race.”
“Why is he running?”
Ethel returned her attention to her program. “Who knows why he does what he does?”
“When did he decide to run?”
She glared at him again. “Why are you asking me all of these questions?”
“Because I want to understand what’s going on.” Darius leaned forward on his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t remember Dad ever donating to a fund-raiser, volunteering for civic events, or even signing a petition. Do you?”
“No.”
Darius met his mother’s gaze across the room. “What makes someone like that wake up one day and decide to become mayor?”
“I don’t know.” Confusion mixed with irritation in Ethel’s black eyes. “But I don’t need to understand. I just want him to stop.”
Darius stood, crossing to the front windows. He nudged apart the curtains to check the street. Where was his father?
He turned from the window. Silence stretched as he considered his next step. “We should talk with Dad when he gets home. Maybe together we can convince him to drop his petition.”
Ethel shook her head as Darius spoke. “That won’t work. I’m done with talking. I tried talking to him. Simon won’t listen. I told him that if he even campaigned for mayor, I’d divorce him. He still chose to start this petition.”
Darius tensed. He’d known for a long time—decades—that his parents’ marriage wasn’t a happy one. If the town had a yearbook, their marriage would be voted “Least Likely to Succeed.” But he still couldn’t imagine them divorced. “You would divorce him? Where would you go?”
Simon’s voice interrupted them from the room’s entrance. “Yes, Ethel. Tell us what you would do without me.”
Ethel rose from the sofa and turned her glare on her husband of more than thirty years. “You don’t believe that I would divorce you?” She looked at Darius. “You both think that I’m bluffing? Try me, then.”
Ethel dashed across the room, shoving Simon out of the way before racing up the stairs. Darius’s heart broke at the sound of her sobs.
“This has gone too far, Dad.” Darius gestured after his mother. “You can see Mom’s miserable.”
Simon stepped farther into the room. “Your mother’s always threatening to divorce me.”
“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 y
ou 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.”
