Deadline

by K. A. Tracy

  “You don’t want to rush through happy hour.”

  “That, too,” he admitted, having the grace to blush.

  The intercom buzzed, and Joe jumped up. “That’s probably Kevin.” He left to go meet the elevator.

  Turning to face the mountains again and sipping on her champagne, Sam rocked the chair to the beat of “Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys” playing on the cable music channel. The bluesy melody was an oddly fitting accompaniment for the past week. Sam heard footsteps and swiveled around, surprised to see Ellen standing on the patio holding a vase filled with assorted roses. She was wearing jeans, leather Rainbow sandals, a black form-fitting tank top, and little if any makeup. Even though the emotion and strain of the past couple days were evident in her eyes, she was as beautiful as ever. Maybe more.

  “Don’t get up.” She set the roses on the table and leaned over to give Sam a lingering hug and a brief kiss on the lips. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced.” She sat down. “I wanted to surprise you with these.”

  “I’m very glad you did. They’re beautiful.”

  Joe came out with another glass, which he filled for Ellen. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you, Joe.”

  “Truly, my pleasure.” He bowed then turned to Sam. “I’m going downstairs to wait for Kevin.”

  She started to stand. “Let me walk you—”

  “Sit.” Joe pushed her back down. “You know I hate goodbyes.”

  “Tough.” She stood back up and gave him an extended hug.

  He held her tightly then let go. “Be safe. Be careful. Behave.” He took one of Ellen’s hands and held it in both of his. “It was really a joy meeting you. I look forward to getting to know you better when I get back.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  He nodded towards Sam. “Please take care of our girl while I’m gone, and try to keep her out of trouble.”

  “I will. I promise,” she glanced affectionately at Sam, “though I suspect it’ll be a full-time job.”

  Joe grabbed his bags, gave a final wave, and left. The sound of the door closing roused the dogs, who suddenly realized there was company. They jumped off the chair and trotted out to the patio, tails wagging in unison. They stood on their hind legs, front paws resting expectantly against Ellen’s thigh. She looked down in surprise. “Oh, my God, they’re adorable.” She picked them up for hugs and teased, “I would have never taken you for a poodle person.”

  “They’re not poodles…”

  “It’s okay, baby; your secret’s safe with me. All things considered, it’s the least I can do.” Ellen put the dogs down and took in the view. “This is so nice.”

  Sam studied her profile, trying to decipher her thoughts. “Did you see Anne today?”

  She nodded. “They still have her on suicide watch. I’ve never seen such grief. She’s suffering so much I don’t know how she’ll ever survive it.” Ellen reached for Sam’s hand. “Thank you for staying up with me on the phone last night. I’m not sure how I would have gotten through these last few days without you.”

  “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ellen smiled in gratitude then grew somber. “I finally read your article this morning.”

  “And?”

  “It was remarkable,” she said quietly. “You really captured Jeff’s spirit and the terrible waste of his death. Your editor was really okay with you keeping my background and family stuff out of it?”

  “Marlene doesn’t know about either. I tend to keep my editors on a need-to-know basis. I find it prevents a lot of backseat writing. I mean, yes, it’s a hell of a story, but it’s your story to tell, if you ever choose to, not mine.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for protecting Annie.”

  Sam waved off the thanks. “The only person who should be held publicly accountable for Jeff’s death is George Manuel. And I suppose, to a lesser degree, Jeff himself. If he would have backed off the way Kevin begged him to, he’d still be alive.”

  “I told him that if he ever needed anything to just ask because he was family,” Ellen sighed, her expression a mixture of sorrow and frustration, “but he refused to take anything that looked like a handout.”

  “It was more than just pride,” Sam observed. “He was trying to prove himself and do right by his girlfriend, who he obviously felt he had betrayed.”

  “So his motivation was redemption?”

  “I think so. And Ellen, taking money from you wouldn’t give him that.”

  She tapped Sam’s leg with her foot. “Would you do something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “When you called me Elisa the other day, it felt like I had found myself again. Ellen Konrad might be who I am professionally and in public but I never stopped thinking of myself as Elisa in here,” she pointed to her chest. “I want her back, and I’d like it very much if you called me by my real name.”

  Sam lifted her flute. “I’d be honored, Elisa Avery Bayles.”

  “Thank you, Samantha O’Shea Perry.”

  They touched glasses and drank to the unspoken sentiment behind the request. Sam refilled her flute. “How’s Luke holding up?”

  “We’re hanging in there.” Ellen slowly blew out a lungful of air. “I guess you never know your children as well as you think. I’d have thought that he would be the understanding one and Annie the one full of outrage at learning the truth, but it was just the opposite.”

  “Maybe that’s because since Anne has felt like an outsider most of her life, her identity wasn’t tied as tightly to you as Luke’s was.”

  Ellen looked thoughtful. “An outsider with us?”

  “With whomever. Mental illness usually makes people feel disconnected from everyone. And I don’t think Luke was outraged as much as he was unnerved. Having his foundation rocked scared him, that’s all.”

  “He’s still overwhelmed that his adopted mother is also his first cousin once removed.”

  “He’ll get over it. Just tell him hyphenate relatives are a proud Southern tradition.”

  “Exactly,” Ellen chuckled softly. “You know, once he stopped being so angry, he latched onto the fact that we’re actually blood kin. It means a lot to him. I spent so many years running away from family I forgot there are others who would do anything to find theirs.” She swiveled her chair side to side. “He wants to take over as my campaign manager.”

  “Really? Are you going to let him?”

  “I think I am. He’s decided to put off college for a semester then enroll at UC Riverside for the time being instead of Stanford so he can live at home and be close to his sister.”

  “Well, he’s sure to be an improvement over Phil. For one thing, no comb-over.” Sam arched her back, still sore from her encounter with the flash flood. “I’m glad to hear you’re not dropping out of the race.”

  “To be honest, quitting was not an option.”

  “Her hospitalization probably won’t remain a secret for long,” Sam observed, adding wryly, “not with people like me in the world.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a secret. I’m not going to advertise her condition, but if it leaks out, I’m not going to run from it either. Lena wanted her admitted under an assumed name yesterday, and I flat out refused. She’s furious with me, but I’m done with the lies. Bipolar affects so many families, and mental illness should be a matter of treatment, not shame.”

  “Sounds like a stump speech in the making.”

  “Well, I guess the best ones are those that come from the heart,” Ellen said with a weary smile. “I wish you could have known her before. She was so vibrant. I love her more than life, but it’s not always been easy.” She set her glass on the table. “Sometimes I’ll look at her and suddenly see Dale. She looks so much like him and has his edginess.”

  Sam saw the flash of antipathy cloud Ellen’s eyes at the mention of her step-uncle. “I am so, so sorry for what you suffered with him. And I’m sorry I made you relive i
t.”

  “No apologies.” She briefly touched her finger to Sam’s lips. “You were right; the only way to make things better is to have the courage to face what we keep hidden.”

  “If it makes any difference, you don’t need to face it alone.”

  “It makes all the difference in the world,” Ellen assured her. She sat quietly for several moments gazing pensively at the mountains. “I’ve kept so much hidden for so long and yet, I can remember every detail as if it happened yesterday. The first night Dale came in to my room, he said it was for my own good. That it was time for a man to teach me how to be a real woman. He was wearing Old Spice and was drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

  Ellen paused again, and Sam noticed the pulse in her neck beating rapidly. “I fought him. I was like a wild animal. But he was too strong, and all it did was get him more excited and make him hurt me. He twisted my arm so far back I thought it was going to snap off.” She absently rubbed her shoulder. “That’s when I realized he wanted me to struggle and beg; that’s what got him hard. So I stopped fighting and lay there perfectly still. I guess a lifeless lump wasn’t nearly as exciting because it was over very fast after that.”

  “Jesus, Elisa. How long did this go on?”

  “A couple of months, once every week or so. Each time I just closed my eyes and waited for it to be over. I was completely detached. It was like watching it happen to another person from somewhere else in the room. Fortunately, it was usually just a matter of minutes. Once he left, I’d take the hottest bath I could stand.”

  “Had you known what he was doing to Nell?”

  Ellen nodded. “I’d hear him grunting in her room late at night. Then I’d hear her crying. Up to the day she died, Nell had nightmares almost every night that he was coming into her room.”

  “Why didn’t anybody throw this asshole in jail?”

  “Who was going to tell the police? There was no adult to intervene. We were just kids coping the best we knew how. It was worse for Nell because she felt betrayed by her mother for not stopping it. My parents were dead; I knew I had to get through it on my own. And I was not going to let him ruin me.”

  “At least you had the strength to finally get away.”

  “It wasn’t strength. It was cowardice.” Ellen slowly traced her finger along the armrest. “Lee once ordered a catalogue from Good Vibrations, and I was fascinated with the idea of women wearing strap-ons. It seemed so empowering.” She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “One night Dale was taking a lot longer than usual to finish, probably because he was so drunk. He stank of booze and cigarettes and sweat. To get my mind off what he was doing I started fantasizing what it’d be like to turn the tables on Dale, to overpower him against his will, to humiliate and hurt him.” She sat back, tears rolling furiously out of the corners of her eyes, “I don’t know how I let it happen…”

  “You climaxed,” Sam said softly.

  “It was horrible. He was smirking, no doubt thinking he had just cured me.” Her voice caught. “I felt so unclean; so betrayed by my body.” She wiped her face. “That’s why I agreed to run away. I was terrified it would happen again.”

  A new stream of tears erupted and Sam’s heart broke a little. She wished she had the power to go back in time and personally castrate the bastard. Dale Overton had gotten off with a mercifully quick bullet to the brain.

  Sam got a box of Kleenex from the bathroom, and Ellen dabbed at the tear stains on her tank top. “I’ve never been able to talk about it before to anyone. Ever. I was so ashamed.”

  Sam knelt in front of Ellen. “You were a child who found a way to survive. You were in no way complicit. Time to let go of the ghosts.”

  Ellen rocked slowly in the chair as she considered Sam’s words. Gradually, the weight of shame that had been her constant companion for so long eased. Complete self-forgiveness would be an ongoing process, but for the first time in a long time Ellen felt a lightness of spirit. She briefly touched Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” A thought made Sam grin. “I just hope the experience didn’t turn you against toys.”

  “Not at all,” she smiled, “I still find strap-ons empowering.”

  “Hey, maybe that should be your new campaign slogan.”

  Ellen laughed and put the tissues on the table. “Lena would have a stroke.” She looked at Sam with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry I wasn’t open with you about my relationship with her that night you came over after the party.”

  “Why weren’t you?”

  Ellen leaned forward. “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

  “There was never a chance of that.” She sat back in her chair and stretched out her legs so they touched Ellen’s. “You’ve been together for what, like nineteen years?”

  “On and off. I tried to end the relationship so many times, but we were held together by all the secrets we shared, even though we kept growing further and further apart. It was like being caught in a trap.”

  “You’re actually just thirty-three now, right?”

  Ellen nodded, “My real birthday was last month, July 21,” and observed dryly, “I’m the only actress in the history of Hollywood who lies about my age in the other direction.”

  “Jesus, that means you were only sixteen when you got your first film? No wonder you were always described as baby-faced; you really were one. Did you just blow off high school?”

  “Well, yes and no. Bill and June were both teachers so they home-schooled me. I got my GED not long after the accident. You’re supposed to be sixteen but I used Nell’s ID. After that I took drama classes during the day and night courses in business and pre-law at College of the Desert for a couple years before moving to LA.”

  “Beauty, talent, and brains…be still my heart,” Sam grinned.

  “You’re forgetting sexy,” Ellen reminded her in a teasing voice.

  Fanning her face, Sam remembered something. “The other night on the balcony you told me you were a Cancer. But your listed birthday is April. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the discrepancy. Or that you’d make that slip.”

  “Who says it was a slip?”

  Sam stared, the light dawning. “You wanted me to figure it out.”

  “And you did.”

  “I did not see that coming,” Sam admitted, then asked, “I can see why you might not have wanted Luke and Anne to know all the gory details about Dale’s life as the family rapist, but why not let them know you were related?”

  Ellen picked apart another Kleenex. “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Lena was concerned the kids would be traumatized if they found out about Dale and Elizabeth and also what it might do to my career if the truth about our family situation ever got out—that my first cousin was a murderer. She pushed until I gave in. Both times I didn’t trust my own instinct, and they became the two biggest regrets in my life.” She tossed the shredded tissue onto the table. “I wasn’t going to make the same mistake with you. That’s why I needed you to find out the truth.”

  Whatever wrong turns she may have made, Sam admired the substance of character beneath that gorgeous exterior. “I can’t believe you adopted Luke and Anne as an eighteen-year-old. That’s so much responsibility for someone that young. For someone just starting to make it in their career.”

  “It was never a question. When we found out about Elizabeth, I felt obligated to take in her kids, the way Aunt Gail had taken me in. I was just lucky that I was already making a good living, so money wasn’t the issue.”

  “What was?”

  “Logistics. I wasn’t comfortable setting up house with Lee to raise a family.”

  “Because you weren’t out?”

  “That some,” Ellen acknowledged, “but mostly because I did not want that additional entanglement complicating our relationship even more. By that time, we were only together because of circumstance, not some great passion—at least on my part. I mean, I loved her but she wasn’t my s
oul mate; she would never complete me. I knew Seamus needed a green card, and we came to an understanding: we’d stay married for at least five years then amicably go our separate ways as a couple. We were good friends, and it seemed the best solution.”

  “Did he know about you and Lena?”

  “Of course. I rented her an apartment nearby, and she was over every day.”

  “Even so, I would have seriously resented you playing house with someone else.”

  “She did. And she felt excluded. Seamus adored Anne and Luke and was committed to being their dad for the rest of his life. Lee was jealous of the bond I shared with him over the kids. And she was also worried about my relationship with him.”

  “It wasn’t platonic?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Isn’t that like a little bit pregnant?”

  Ellen responded with a wry smile. “At first we had separate rooms, but on our third wedding anniversary things changed. We went to dinner and had such a great time together; I simply adored him. So when he asked to spend the night with me, I said yes. Eventually, he moved into my room full time. I really did adore him and, I don’t know…”

  “You wanted to test the waters?”

  “Yes, I was curious,” Ellen admitted. “Here I had this beautiful family and to the outside world a happy marriage, and I wondered what it would be like to really live it. Seamus was gentle and attentive and the sex was pleasant enough but no fireworks, despite his best efforts. I felt so much affection and love for him, but only as a dear friend. There was just no passion.”

  “I’m guessing that he was in love with you, though.”

  “Yes, but I was honest with him. I knew I could never give him what he wanted emotionally or physically. Nor could he give me what I needed. But he said he wanted to stay married until there was a reason to leave, for the kids’ sake.”

  “Was Lena aware?”

  “She had to be. It was obvious we were sleeping in the same room. But like a lot of things, we never talked about it.”

  “And you and Seamus never divorced.”

  “We would have. He met a makeup artist named Sarah, and he wanted to marry her. I remember being so relieved. He was actually coming back from her house when he had the accident. He’d gone to tell her we were announcing our divorce the next day. Instead, I found myself announcing funeral plans. I don’t think Sarah has gotten over it yet. I’m not sure I have, either.”