A Primary Decision
Page 5
They reached the car, and he faced her. “Like my honesty.” Eyes twinkling, he added, “So I’ll tell you right now that there’s a big sticky kiss mark on your left cheek. One of the kids must have had jelly before coming to the center. You’ve been wearing it since this morning.”
Startled, she raised her hand and encountered the sticky mess. “And you’ve let me wear it like that all day? Without saying anything?”
He laughed. “Hey, it made the experience more authentic. I’ve got wet wipes in the car. I need them frequently after being here. Let’s get you cleaned up and then go find some dinner.”
So there were a lot more layers to Jon.
He was right. The more she saw, the more she liked.
8
NEW YORK CITY
“Sean, you know what you have to do, right?” Elizabeth’s voice was warm but determined.
He cradled the phone to his ear, waiting. He knew more was coming.
“You’ve juggled the pros and cons in your head for almost a week, driving yourself a bit crazy. But honestly, Sean, it’s simple. You have questions and he has answers. You deserve those answers. And he’s in town. What better time to get them?”
And there it was—the clarity Elizabeth brought to any situation.
Sean sighed. “I know you’re right. I just can’t seem to make that phone call.”
“Then hear me plainly, mister. It’s time to get two roadblocks out of your life. Meeting Thomas is the first one. You won’t be able to settle until you do.”
“And the second?” he asked meekly.
“Telling Sarah the truth.”
“But Dad—”
“Sean, I know your dad doesn’t want that,” Elizabeth said more gently. “But Sarah will feel really betrayed if you don’t tell her.”
“I know,” he admitted. “I can still see the hurt and confusion in her eyes when I couldn’t tell her why I went haywire and disappeared for a while. Weird, though. She hasn’t pressed me further for answers. That’s not like her.”
“Maybe she senses you need time to work things out for yourself. But Sean, until you handle those two roadblocks, they’ll hang over your head.”
“I know.”
“So meet Thomas. Today.”
“Wow.” He chuckled. “You’re as straight-talking with me as Laura is with Will.”
“I hope so,” she fired back. “Now quit waffling and get moving.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He shook his head with a wry grin. He really was beginning to sound like his brother.
“Looks like you need this.” Darcy handed Sarah a cup of their favorite coffee from a nearby shop. “Nontoxic. Not the DOJ or DHS brand. Figured you were bogged down playing catch-up.”
Sarah had been entrenched in her office at the DOJ’s Criminal Division every day and evening since her return from Washington. She’d barely had time to think about the upcoming JC vote. She was focused on her work at the DOJ. Now it was Friday, and she felt the strain of the extra work hours.
“That’s an understatement.” Sarah laughed. “And thanks for the coffee. I needed this midmorning break more than you know.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Darcy nudged her. “I needed a time-out myself from the DHS good ol’ boys. Sometimes they just get on a roll. Come on, walk with me a bit. By the time I get back, they’ll have returned to normal.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever that is.”
The two friends sipped coffee and walked, enjoying the city sounds and vibrant colors. Sarah filled Darcy in on her surprise visit to the special needs center the previous weekend and seeing Michael again.
“It sure seems like we’re at a standstill on the bombing investigation, doesn’t it?” Sarah asked.
Darcy pursed her lips. “We both know there’s more to the puzzle. We’ll find it.”
Sarah took another sip of coffee. “I can’t get Michael out of my mind. He’s so sure that his friend wouldn’t have done it if he knew what was in the backpack.”
“I agree. From what we’ve been able to uncover, Justin doesn’t seem like that kind of a guy. Troubled, yes, but not vengeful.”
“Or suicidal,” Sarah added.
The women’s eyes met, and they both nodded.
“Something is going to break soon. I feel it.” Darcy stopped to toss her coffee cup into a nearby trash can. “I’m going to miss this when you move to D.C.”
Sarah lifted a brow. “Who says I’ll get confirmed?”
“I do, because you will.”
It was such a confident statement of fact—so Darcy—that Sarah laughed. “Then maybe you should tell Chairman Phelps that. He and a few others in the JC were doing their best to take things the other direction.”
Darcy frowned. “Maybe I will. Phelps could stand to be taken down a notch or two. Seriously, though, you’re not going to let a few old-timers stop you, are you?”
“Nope. I’m taking it all the way to the top.”
Her friend winked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”
Sean and Thomas agreed to meet at Central Park, in the Italian part of the Conservatory Garden. The garden—actually three gardens in one—was one of eight designated quiet zones in Central Park. When Sean wanted time away from the craziness of the Big Apple but couldn’t go far, he went to the garden or to the Conservatory Water, where he could watch people sail their model boats.
Interesting that his birth father had suggested the Conservatory Garden as the place to meet.
Sean had arrived half an hour early to sit on a bench by the Vanderbilt Gate. Somehow he felt more in control if he could watch Thomas arrive.
The man walking toward Sean now was an older version of himself—six feet tall, with curly, dark auburn hair tinged a bit with gray. Sean had seen him often in the news headlines in years past, when he was president of the United States. But when Thomas drew closer, Sean saw what he hadn’t glimpsed before—the stature and pain of a man who had lived well in some areas but failed greatly in others.
Sean stood, suddenly feeling eclipsed.
Thomas paused a few feet away. “Sean,” he said simply and extended his hand. “You must have questions. I will answer any you want to ask.”
Sean reached out in slow motion to shake his hand. “Thomas.” He couldn’t help staring, comparing himself to the man who stood in front of him. Now that the moment was here, the questions he wanted to ask had fled.
“Shall we sit?” Thomas asked. He didn’t wait for an answer but sat on one end of the bench.
Sean sat on the other end. Both men faced the garden’s beauty instead of each other. For men, it was easier to talk of things of the heart that way.
“I didn’t intend for the affair to happen,” Thomas said quietly. “Not when she’d chosen my best friend. But I had always loved Ava. If it wasn’t for my respect for Bill, I would have told her our senior year at Harvard. But Bill had already asked her to marry him after she graduated.”
Sean broke in. “So you loved my mother but never told her?”
“That year, Bill plunged into his first year at Worthington Shares, while Ava and I were still seniors. We were inseparable. The closest of friends. But I could never tell her how I felt. Bill was a bright star, and I—well, I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do in life. I felt restless, directionless.”
Sean frowned. How often he’d felt the same way.
“I convinced myself that Bill would be better for her.” Thomas sighed. “How I missed her, and Bill, after they married. Our lives took us separate directions for a while.”
A flock of birds passed overhead, shattering the quiet with their raucous calls.
Thomas straightened. “In the darkness of that time, I ached for what I couldn’t have. Finally, I gave up the idea of real love with a soul mate like Ava. I did what my family expected—married a woman of status who made my mother happy but me miserable.”
So, Sean thought, the stories of the harpy Victoria are true. He felt a flic
ker of compassion for Thomas.
“When Will was born, I thought I was ready to be around Ava and Bill again. Such joy in her eyes as she held that baby.” He smiled as if parting the years in his memory. Turning toward Sean, he added, “You see, Ava wanted more than anything to be a mother.”
Sean nodded. That he could understand. Ava wasn’t truly happy unless her chicks were gathered around her and she could cluck over them. It didn’t matter whether they were babies or grown-ups.
“The two families started doing things together.” Thomas looked away. “Even though Victoria was missing most of the time. She never liked being around Ava. Perhaps she could sense the truth.”
What? That you were in love with another woman? I can see how that could make a woman bitter, Sean thought. “So that’s how you ended up at Camp David? It was supposed to be a family holiday?” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Thomas focused on Sean again. “Yes, but to Ava, it was much more.”
Suddenly Sean wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of the story.
9
Will sat in his office overlooking Madison Avenue and tapped his pen on his right thigh. Frank Stapleton’s smug assumptions that Will would play ball in any game still rankled. Will had the upper hand—he knew things Stapleton didn’t. But how could he best leverage that advantage, as he did in business opportunities? Will had been rolling that around in his thoughts ever since their dinner meeting. In the meanwhile, he’d ignored Stapleton’s calls. But he couldn’t put off answering them much longer.
“Stapleton not squirming enough for your satisfaction?” Drew said right by his ear.
Will jumped. He’d been so focused on the quandary that he hadn’t heard Drew arrive.
Drew chuckled. “That’s what has you frowning on a sunny day, right?”
Will shook his head. “You always know.”
“Of course. I’ve worked with you too long not to guess.”
“That guess is on the mark, as usual.” Will scowled. “You know I have to get him off the board.”
“But he’s not going to go gently,” Drew said. “The rest of the board will fight for him.”
Will nodded. “He’s been on it a long time. And they see him as the guy who stepped in when all hope was lost for AF and convinced me to come back in a bigger role.”
“Agreed. So what are you thinking?”
“How to leverage our upper hand in the best way.”
“Oh, you know we will,” Drew said with a smirk. “But remember, timing is everything.”
“You mean perhaps he should squirm on the hook a bit more first?”
Drew grinned. “Exactly.”
Sean’s stomach felt like lead as he waited for Thomas to explain. Did he really want to hear about the affair from Thomas’s perspective? Or would the story include secrets he might have to withhold from his own mother? The irony of the tables being turned was nearly more than Sean could bear.
“It was your mother’s dream that the holiday at Camp David become a time for her and Bill to reconnect, to find the love she felt they’d lost,” Thomas said. “But after a few hours, Bill suddenly got a call and had to leave again.”
But why? Was it a part of the plan? Or a coincidence that forever changed the paths of two families and led to my birth?
“Then Victoria left in a huff, saying she was already tired of ‘camping,’ and took Spencer with her. That night, I saw the pain in Ava’s eyes, how lonely she was. Bill was rarely home. His travels enveloped his life. He didn’t see that she was dying inside without the light from his star, just like the year he’d left her behind at Harvard.”
A pang struck Sean’s heart. That was the story of his entire childhood—his father rarely home, and his mother smoothing over his seeming disinterest in family for the three siblings’ sake.
“After Will was tucked into bed, Ava and I opened a bottle of wine and reminisced over our Harvard years. I at last told her what I’d longed to for years—that I loved her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you give me the choice?’ I told her, ‘Because I respect Bill too much. Love you too much. And I knew you’d already chosen him.’”
Silence descended for a moment, as if Thomas was turning back the tides of time. “When she started to cry, I felt helpless. We shared one kiss. Then—”
Sean held up a hand. “I don’t want the details.”
Thomas frowned. “And I respect your mother too much to tell you,” he replied in a terse tone.
Tension stretched between the two men.
At last Thomas exhaled. He continued calmly. “The instant I woke with her in my arms, I felt an inexplicable loss. I knew Ava had chosen Bill and would go back to him. It was the right thing to do—we both knew it.”
“So you just let her walk away? After what happened?”
“It was Ava’s choice,” Thomas said firmly. “I was too much in shock to even think about the possibility of her becoming pregnant. I’m sure she was too. She and Bill had tried for several years to have another baby, with nothing to show for it. The following morning, she took Will and headed home. We both agreed it was best for her to be there when Bill returned from his business trip. I tucked away my sadness and concern when I didn’t hear from her for months.”
He turned now to gaze at Sean. “I didn’t know about you until I read about your birth in the papers. You looked—well, too Irish. Too much like me, like Ava. Not enough like a Worthington. I started counting the months back. I realized how long Bill had been gone on his business trip and figured it out. Saw the truth behind the preemie birth announcement in the society page. But after seeing the joy on Ava’s face in the picture . . .” He sighed. “I couldn’t do anything to ruin that.”
“Bill didn’t know?”
“I don’t think so. He may have guessed, though, because after that, he and I rarely spoke. We simply drifted apart, using the busyness of our worlds as an excuse.”
“So you figure out I’m your kid but choose not to acknowledge or see me—until now?” Sean asked caustically.
Thomas’s eyes turned steely. “No, son.”
The word reverberated in the still air of the garden and inside Sean’s brain.
“I chose to love your mother, and you, and to respect your father by walking away. I thought that was best for all of you. But it wasn’t what I wanted. Never.”
“Then what did you want?” Sean threw the words at Thomas.
“I wanted—” The older man’s voice broke. “I wanted to raise you. Be by your side. See the joy and pride in Ava’s eyes firsthand. But out of love, I stepped away. I am sorry for many things. But I’ll never be sorry for giving Ava what she wanted most—a child. That child of her heart and my heart is you, Sean.”
Sean’s anger fled. The ache in his chest pushed to his throat. He bowed his head.
“Over the years, I’ve kept my eye on you. Celebrated your milestones. But Bill has been the one by your side. He’s shaped you into the man I wish I had been at your age. He’s more of a father to you than I could have been. Somehow Ava knew, even back at Harvard, which one of us to choose. And she was right.”
Sarah had only been back at the DOJ for a couple of hours when Darcy called.
“Aw, miss me already?” Sarah teased.
“You’ve got to hear this,” Darcy said in her usual brusque manner. “Guess what was waiting for me when I got back to my office?”
“Okay, I’ll play. What was waiting for you?”
“An anonymous package,” Darcy announced.
“What? Aren’t those screened by security first?”
“Yup, and it was. It was brought up to me once it was cleared because it had my name on the front.”
“And?”
“Said package reveals that Frank Stapleton, the chairman of AF, is connected to the Polar Bear Bomber.”
Sarah sat back in her chair. “How so?”
“Our source says Sandstrom and Stapleton h
atched the plan together to bomb the AF building to turn the tide of public opinion about the oil fiasco. But Stapleton supplied the bomber’s name and location. Jason Carson was only the point man to set up the details so Stapleton and Sandstrom didn’t get their hands dirty.”
“Whoa. So at least Carson’s being honest about something. That might be a first. But what is Stapleton and the bomber’s connection?” Sarah wondered out loud.
“Dunno. The note didn’t say. But if Stapleton supplied the information, he knew the bomber somehow.”
“Maybe it’s time to talk to Michael again to see if there’s anything else he knows without realizing it,” Sarah mused.
“I already called Jon to help us contact Michael. Meanwhile, I have the lab evaluating the note for fingerprints and trying to identify its origin.”
“Guess your gut instinct is working overtime for you. Earlier today you said you thought something in the case would break soon.” Sarah laughed. “Well, I’d call this soon.”
“It’s like a guardian angel dropped the package on my doorstep,” Darcy replied. “Problem is, I don’t believe in that guardian angel mumbo jumbo. This only proves our theory further—that bigger forces are at play here.”
“Agreed. We just have to figure out what those forces are.”
10
Sean sat in the garden, head still bowed and hands clasped together to keep them from shaking.
He heard the click of a latch as Thomas opened his briefcase.
“Here.” Thomas handed him a bulky package. “I want you to have this. It contains things that might be important to you. Open it when you’re ready.”
“I may never be ready,” Sean managed.
“Then that’s all right too,” Thomas said softly.
He shut the briefcase, then stood in front of Sean for a minute. Sean could feel Thomas’s gaze on his lowered head.
There was a slight whisper, like a regretful sigh, and then Thomas started to move away.
Sean looked up. The world appeared to be in slow motion. He watched the back of the man who was his birth father as he receded, inch by inch, from his vision.