The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Hey, Aimee. Nice to meet you. Sorry it’s such a shit time. Kes is a cool guy.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

  Then his girlfriend surprised me with a warm hug.

  “God, I’m so sorry! We were so shocked when we heard. But he’s going to be alright, isn’t he?”

  “Thank you. We’re hoping for the best.”

  Everyone stared at the floor uncomfortably, uncertain what to say. I turned back to Daniel.

  “I hope that helping me isn’t going to get you in trouble,” I said.

  Daniel just shrugged and gave me a wicked smile.

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  “Daniel!” hissed Lisanne, smacking his arm lightly.

  “Sorry, baby doll,” he said with a grin that showed he wasn’t sorry at all.

  Then he leaned down and kissed her.

  Even though I was tense and nervous, I had to smile. I guess good genes and bad language ran in the family.

  The guys headed out to have a drink at the hotel bar while Lisanne and I got ourselves dolled up for the party. I was so anxious that I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking, and Lisanne had to help me with my mascara before I poked myself in the eye again.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to say to Senator Hawkins?” she asked me.

  “Yes, no, sort of. Oh, God. I guess it sort of depends on how he responds. I’m probably not going to start, ‘Hey, you know your second child that you abandoned when he was a baby and that you’ve never even met, well, guess what? He needs you to step up and be a father.’ What do you think?”

  Lisanne smiled sadly. Could work. But you know what they say, ‘You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.’”

  “I know, I know. But I’m just so angry: with him, with what’s happened . . .”

  She nodded slowly. “You’re angry with Kes, I get it.”

  I pulled back, stung.

  “No! I’m not angry with Kes!”

  Then I met her eyes in the mirror.

  “Oh shit, you’re right. I am angry with him and I feel so guilty about it. I keep thinking why did he have to take the bike out that day? Why did he have to have an accident? And I know it’s stupid and unfair, but I can’t help it.”

  “It’s not stupid, and it’s life that’s unfair.” Lisanne paused. “I don’t know how much Zef has told you about Daniel, but did you know that he’s deaf?”

  I stared at her in surprise. “Really? But he seems so . . .”

  “You were going to say ‘normal,’ weren’t you?” she said as I cringed inwardly. “That’s okay. I was exactly the same way when I first found out. And then he went and had an operation for a cochlear implant to try and give him back some hearing, and the jerk didn’t even tell me. I had to track him down at the hospital.”

  “Wow, I had no idea!”

  “The thing is, Aimee, Daniel is a musician. He writes the most amazing songs, and he was a great guitarist. But now . . . well, he can still write songs, but his hearing even with the CI isn’t good enough to play in a band anymore. Processed music, it’s too complex. So he’s had to adjust, and it’s been hard. He gets so frustrated sometimes, and he gets angry. It can be hard to live with.”

  I looked at her, really looked at her, seeing so much sympathy and understanding in her expression.

  “So whatever Kes’s new ‘normal’ is,” Lisanne continued, “you’ll be living and dealing with it, too.” She sighed. “I’m just saying I know what it’s like. So if you ever need to talk or anything, I’ll be there for you, okay?”

  Tears came into my eyes. I felt so grateful for her understanding, for her kindness.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “You really love Daniel, don’t you.”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  And then she hugged me tightly.

  “Of course, he drives me batshit crazy sometimes, too. So it’s a good thing he’s hot.”

  I laughed, letting a little of the anxiety drain away.

  “He’s totally got that bad boy vibe working for him.”

  Lisanne giggled. “Tell me about it! And I’ve met Kes, remember. I bet there are times when you want every woman who laid her eyes on him to spontaneously combust.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Have I ever!”

  Lisanne grinned at me.

  “Now let’s get you looking awesome,” she said. “My friend Kirsty taught me a few tricks in that department—you’ll meet her later, by the way. But first, you’re going to be so stunning, the Senator will say yes to anything you ask.”

  I laughed nervously. “I hope you’re right.”

  An hour later, I was almost hyperventilating. I held onto Daniel’s arm as he escorted me and Lisanne up the red carpet to the event. There were a ton of paparazzi there which surprised me, until I remembered that the Rose Bowl was a big deal. I’d been so out of it since the accident, that I barely remembered my own name.

  “Smile, Aimee,” Lisanne whispered.

  I tried, I really did, but I probably just looked sick.

  “Hey,” said Daniel. “You think Kes will be watching this on TV?”

  “Oh, God!” I choked out. “He’ll know I lied to him!”

  “Is he gonna be mad?”

  I nodded numbly.

  “Good,” said Daniel with a cheerful grin.

  “What?”

  “Getting angry is better than giving in,” and he gave me a piercing look.

  Suddenly I understood what he was saying: Kes needed to fight back. Maybe I could give him that.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my eyes beginning to tear up.

  “Hey, no crying!” said Lisanne. “It’ll make your mascara run.”

  “Yeah, and it’ll fuck up my rep,” Daniel added. “Hot chicks are usually happy to be with me.”

  “I’m so going to kick your ass later,” Lisanne hissed, making Daniel laugh.

  Once we were inside the ballroom, we wandered around, chatting with Daniel’s teammates until Lisanne tapped me on the arm.

  “Just over to your left,” she said quietly. “He’s by himself.”

  My heart rate rocketed and I broke out in a cold sweat.

  Daniel leaned down and whispered in my ear.

  “If he gives you any shit, let me know and I’ll fuck him up.”

  I glanced around me anxiously. “I think he has bodyguards.”

  Daniel winked at me. “Yeah, well I have teammates, and there are more of us than there are bodyguards.”

  Lisanne gave me an encouraging smile, and I took a deep breath.

  I gripped the glass of champagne in my hand, taking a quick gulp. Then I walked over.

  It was unnerving: I felt like I was looking at a version of Kes 30 years from now. Same height, same powerful physique, but the Senator’s features were broader and rougher than Kes’s, and his hair must have been blond when he was younger.

  “Good evening, Senator Hawkins,” I said nervously.

  “Well, hello,” he said, giving me the wide, gleaming smile of a professional politician. “I’d ask if you’re supporting the Golden Gophers, but I think I saw you arrive with the Pirates’ Running Back.”

  I was sure my face was scarlet. “Ah yes, um, he’s a friend . . .”

  I took a much needed sip of champagne as the Senator smiled at me. He was probably used to people making idiots of themselves in front of him. He exuded the power and confidence of a man totally at ease with himself.

  “I’m from Minnesota,” I blurted out.

  “And yet fraternizing with the enemy,” he smiled. “Or should I hope that you’re bringing back top secret information to our team?”

  I gave a strangled laugh. “Actually there is something personal I wanted to talk to you about.”

  A resigned wariness clouded his eyes for a second.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, Miss . . . ?”

  “Andersen. Aimee Andersen.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret, Miss Andersen,”
he said, leaning toward me. “It’s Christmas. I’m on vacation.”

  And then he grinned again and turned to walk away.

  I panicked.

  “It’s about Kes!” I said sharply.

  He froze, and when he slowly turned to look at me again, there was ice in his eyes.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Kestrel,” I said quietly. “Your son.”

  A look of venom made me take a step back, but then he gripped my elbow and almost dragged me out of the room.

  “Put a fucking smile on your face right now,” he ordered.

  I was so shocked, my mouth dropped open as I tried to force it into a crazed grin.

  He pushed me through a door into a room where the banquet food would be served.

  “Everyone out!” he roared.

  The staff looked annoyed, but they were probably used to being treated like dirt by the rich and famous.

  I stiffened my spine and folded my arms across my chest.

  “How much do you want?” he growled.

  Oh my God! He already knew! He must have heard that Kes was in hospital but he hadn’t so much as tried to call him!

  “I’m not sure,” I began, watching his eyebrows shoot up. “I, um, we think maybe . . . a hundred thousand dollars—for the first year. I’m not really sure.”

  His eyes narrowed. “‘We’? Who’s in this with you? That reporter bitch?”

  I was confused. “Who? No, it’s me—I’m asking. Kes doesn’t even know I’m here.” And he’d hate if he did know.

  “How do you know Kestrel?”

  “Oh!” I said surprised, realizing I’d forgotten to tell him. “I’m Kes’s fiancée, um, girlfriend.”

  “Well, which is it? Fiancée or girlfriend?” he snapped.

  “Strictly speaking, I’m his girlfriend,” I admitted. “But we’re living together in Arcata Bay, but I had to tell the hospital that I was his fiancée so that they’d let me see him.”

  “Kestrel is in hospital?” he asked.

  “Yes!” I said, frustration making me raise my voice. “That’s why we need the money!”

  He blinked a couple of times.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  It was my turn to be confused. “But I thought you knew?”

  “Knew what?” he barked, trying to intimidate me with his size. “What are you talking about, young lady?”

  I tried to put my thoughts in order and speak clearly.

  “Just before Christmas, Kes was in an accident on his motorcycle. He was badly hurt and they had to airlift him to hospital. He’s in Sacramento at the UC Davis Spine Center. He . . . he broke his back.”

  My voice wobbled, but the Senator continued to glare at me.

  “When we contacted his insurance company, they said that he didn’t have loss of income coverage. He’d had a . . . falling out with his old manager, so she changed it without him knowing. He’s scheduled for an operation tomorrow and then there’ll be months of rehabilitation. He doesn’t have anything to live on after. I don’t know what to do.”

  His expression was still stony. “So now he wants my help. I should have known.”

  “No! I told you. Kes doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t know anything about the insurance . . .”

  “So you thought you’d soften me up by setting that reporter on my family first, did you?” he yelled suddenly.

  I took a step back. “What reporter?”

  “Are you telling me that you’re not in cahoots with that gossip writer Shelly Lendl?”

  “Oh my God! That bitch!” I yelped. “She came by in the summer to try and get an interview with Kes. He told her to leave.”

  “Am I supposed to believe that, Miss Andersen?” he sneered.

  “Yes, you are! But mostly you’re supposed to help your son!”

  We stared at each other.

  “Wait here,” he ordered. “I’m going to make some calls,” and he strode away.

  I sank down into a chair, my legs no longer able to hold me. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck—one that reversed several times to do the job thoroughly.

  My hands shook as I checked my phone. There was a missed call and a text from Kes. I’d forgotten that Zach was taking Kes’s phone in for him today.

  * Herd ute seek. Be wall soon *

  I wanted to rub my eyes, but I remembered at the last minute that I was wearing makeup. I studied the message again, smiling when I translated it.

  And then I felt guilty again. I hated lying to him.

  I was about to text a reply when the Senator came marching back in, accompanied by two men who could only be bodyguards. They wore dark suits and ties, with military haircuts, and that cold-eyed stare that was part confidence, part intimidation.

  I suddenly felt very vulnerable and wished that Daniel was nearby. Zef was taking a nap in his brother’s hotel room before we caught the red-eye back to Sacramento.

  But then one of the Senator’s bodyguards snatched my phone out of my hands.

  “Hey!”

  “If you are who you say you are, this will prove it,” the Senator said flatly.

  I was seething and I had to keep reminding myself that I needed his help.

  The bodyguard flipped through several pages on my phone.

  “She didn’t record the conversation, sir. Nothing was flagged on the preliminary background check, but we’ll keep on digging.” Then he showed something on my screen to the Senator who raised his eyebrows.”

  He held out my phone and I snatched it back, my eyes shooting angry glares at all three of them.

  The Senator stared at me coldly. “Would you care to explain that last message from my . . . from Kestrel.

  “There’s nothing to explain,” I said sharply.

  “Something about a utility vehicle,” he snapped back.

  I laughed angrily.

  “If you’d taken the time to get to know Kes, this wouldn’t be a mystery.”

  “Be careful, Miss Andersen,” he said, his voice low and hard. “You came to me, remember?”

  I jutted out my chin, but bit back my reply.

  “Kes is dyslexic,” I explained dully. “He doesn’t spell very well. Our friends told him I was sick and that’s why I’m not with him at the hospital today. His message says: ‘Heard you sick. Be well soon.’”

  A strange expression passed over the Senator’s face.

  “He didn’t send you, did he?”

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t know we’re in trouble.”

  The Senator closed his eyes.

  “I’ll do two things for you, Miss Andersen, but only on condition that you and my . . . and Kestrel sign a confidentiality agreement.”

  “I’ll sign anything if it will get him the help he needs. But I was under the impression that Kes had already promised not to say a word about . . . you.”

  He grimaced slightly, but neither agreed nor disagreed.

  “What’s the second condition?” I asked tiredly.

  “I play golf with Dr. Paul Wrobel.”

  “How nice for you,” I said sarkily.

  The Senator ignored me. “He’s one of the country’s top neurosurgeons. I want him to see Kestrel.”

  I shrugged. “Sounds good, but Kes is scheduled for surgery at two o’clock tomorrow.”

  “I know,” said the Senator. He took in my surprised expression. “Miss Andersen, did you think I’d take your word on this? I am a cautious man.”

  “I suppose you are now,” I said quietly, and he shot me an angry look.

  “You’re a very aggravating woman for someone who needs my help!”

  “I shouldn’t have to ask you!” I shot back. “If you’d been involved in Kes’s life, you would have offered to help. You have no idea! No idea how wonderful and amazing he is! How hard he’s worked. My God, he’s a World Record holder for . . .”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with me or saying
that he already knew about Kes’s world title.

  The other bodyguard handed me a paper to sign and I scrawled my signature across it without even taking a close look at what I was signing. Stupid, I know, but I was too mentally and emotionally drained to care.

  Then the Senator held out his hand to me, a gesture that seemed shocking after his earlier attempts to browbeat me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked cautiously.

  “Sacramento.”

  “I have a flight in three hours,” I said, a little confused.

  “I have a private charter leaving in 30 minutes,” he said impatiently.

  “You want to see Kes?” I gasped.

  He stared at me, but didn’t answer.

  “Oh God,” I muttered. “Kes is going to kill me.”

  That made him crack a small smile. “Should we go, Miss Andersen?”

  “Oh wait! Zef is upstairs! I have to tell him we’re going. There’s room for him, right? In your private plane?”

  “Who is Zef?”

  “One of Hawkins’ Daredevils,” I explained.

  His lip curled. “Of course. He chose that name to punish me, you know.”

  “Maybe he just wanted you to notice him,” I said quietly, and the Senator frowned.

  I called Zef and told him to pack us up. Then the Senator escorted me through the ballroom to his waiting car. I just had time to give Daniel and Lisanne a quick hug and thank them for everything that they’d done.

  Zef looked so dangerous when he came loping toward the Senator’s limousine that the two bodyguards insisted on patting him down. Zef raised his eyebrows.

  “Be careful of the package, boys. I keep a lot of ladies satisfied with that.”

  “You’d better not!” I hissed. “Mirelle will kick your ass.”

  He winked at me, then climbed into the limo.

  It was a quiet ride to the airport, but once we were in the air the Senator seemed to want to get to know me better, if his relentless questioning was anything to go by.

  “You’re a teacher?” he said.

  “Yes, I was. But you already know that, don’t you?”