by Debbie Mason
“I’ve got it, Willy,” a loud feminine voice called before the door flew open, revealing a voluptuous blonde with mile-high hair in full makeup. The older woman, wearing a blinding yellow robe with matching mules, stared at Skye. “Well tie me to the side of a hog and roll me in the mud, it’s you. Willy!” She hauled a stunned Skye into the marble entryway. “Your baby’s come home,” she bellowed at the same time she smothered Skye in a lemon-scented hug.
“Betty Jean darlin’, what are you… Kendall.” Her father stood at the top of the spiral staircase in a paisley smoking jacket staring down at her. His gaze moved from Skye to the older woman, and he cleared his throat. “This is a… surprise,” he said slowly, coming down the stairs.
Betty Jean put her hands on her hips. “Now is that any way to greet your little girl?” She turned to Skye with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m Betty Jean, hon, your daddy’s fiancée.”
“Fiancée?” Skye croaked. She looked at her father as he walked toward her. “You didn’t tell me you were getting remarried.”
“Don’t get in a huff now. It’s not like we had a lot of time to talk what with you breaking my ribs and your own shotgun wedding.”
“You’re pregnant, too?” Skye said to Betty Jean.
That set the woman off in peals of laughter. Once she got hold of herself, she said, “Just because a chicken has wings doesn’t mean it can fly. I look good for my age, hon, but my eggs shriveled up a ways back.”
Skye looked from Betty Jean to her father. Something wasn’t right. She felt like she’d fallen into the rabbit hole. There was no way her uptight, conservative father would be in love with… And then she saw the twinkle in his eyes, the smile that spread across his face as he looked at Betty Jean. William Davis was head over heels in love with the woman. “I think I need to sit down,” Skye said.
“Oh, you poor thing. Come on, I’ll fix you up some breakfast. How about some French toast?”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you, but a cup of tea would be fine.”
Her father followed them into the kitchen. “You’ll like Betty Jean’s French toast.”
“But, Daddy, I—” she began, glancing at him over her shoulder.
He cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish. “Betty Jean’s a vegan.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped from Skye. “And next you’ll be telling me she’s a bleeding-heart liberal.”
“Damn straight I am.” Betty Jean grinned. “And we get in some good ones over that.” She winked at Skye. “But we have a rip-roarin’ time making up, don’t we, Willy?”
Skye slowly lowered herself to the chair. “I don’t—”
Her father cut her off. “All right now, I want to know what you’re doing here.”
“Willy!”
“I know my girl, Betty Jean. Something bad had to have happened to send her running home. She hasn’t been back since she left ten years ago.”
Betty Jean set the soy milk on the counter and came to Skye’s side. She pulled out a chair, taking Skye’s hand in hers. “You tell Betty Jean all about it, hon.”
The warmth in the woman’s kind eyes did Skye in, and she blubbered out her sorry tale.
“Oh my sweet girl,” Betty Jean said, pressing Skye’s face to her voluptuous chest and patting her back.
“You did the right thing leaving the boy. He has a bright future,” her father said, pushing away from the table. “I’ll make some calls. See if I can’t smooth things over from my end.”
Skye lifted her head. “Daddy, I don’t want Ethan to know where I am. I can’t… I can’t talk to him right now.”
For the first time she could remember, her father agreed with her.
Chapter Nineteen
Ethan rolled over and grabbed his ringing phone from the nightstand. He scrubbed his hand over his face when he noticed the time. It was past ten. The gnawing ache in his gut returned at the thought of what he had to deal with today. They hadn’t reached a consensus on how to handle the publicity nightmare until four this morning.
“What the hell’s going on?” Gage said, as soon as Ethan answered his phone.
“Hey. Sorry, buddy. All hell broke loose here last night. How’s the baby and Madison?” He knew he should’ve called after receiving Kendall’s text announcing the arrival of Gage and Madison’s son. At the very least, he should’ve responded to that last message she’d left. The muscles in his stomach knotted as he remembered the tremor he’d heard in her voice. But he’d been reeling with shock and anger at the shit show she’d delivered to his door five goddamn days before the election.
He figured his lack of response was the reason she’d stayed at the hospital last night. Probably for the best that she had. He still didn’t know what to say to her. If he lost the election because of this… he’d have only himself to blame. He’d ignored everyone’s advice. Hell, he’d known from the start what he was getting into. He just hadn’t thought it would be this bad.
“They’re fine. Great. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I stopped by the station and your keys had been put in the mail slot. Your Escalade’s out front. It looks like whoever parked it was drunk. Someone must have taken it for a joyride—”
“How’d they get the keys? Never mind.” He glanced at his watch, raking a hand through his hair. Sooner or later, he’d have to confront Kendall. He wanted to know how she got mixed up with the guy who was blackmailing him. There was no way she’d worked as an escort, but he needed answers so he’d know how to deal with the lowlife. Given the timing of her signing up for Bennett’s campaign, he had a fairly good idea why she’d done it. As for everything else… that was what he got for marrying an environmental activist. “I’m going to be tied up for a few hours. Any way you or your dad could drop off Kendall? She probably wants to come home and grab—”
“What are you talking about? She left the hospital around eleven last night. She was headed for home.”
He shot out of bed, calling her name as he ran from room to room. “Jesus, Gage, she’s not here.”
“Calm down. Stay on the line with me. I’m going to check the Escalade for any signs she was taken against her will.”
“She sounded scared. The last call she made, she sounded scared.” And he hadn’t picked up. If anything had happened to her, to her and the baby… He slammed his fist into the bedroom wall.
“When was the last time you spoke to her?”
The sound of the wind came over the line, the opening and closing of a car door. “I haven’t talked to her since I left the hospital at six.” Before his best friend asked, Ethan explained why. It was when he told Gage about the blackmail attempt that panic got a stranglehold on him, tightening his chest so that he could barely get the words out. “You don’t think he’d come after her, do you?”
“I’ve checked the Escalade. There’s no sign of a struggle. I’m on my way to you now. I want to see everything you’ve got.”
Ethan went to grab his jeans from where he’d dropped them on the floor, spotting his grandmother’s wedding band on a piece of folded paper. “Hang on,” he said, his voice a rough rasp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he read her good-bye note. “She left me.”
“I don’t think I heard you right. Speak up.”
“She’s gone. She left me.”
“Any sign she wrote the note against her will? Does it look like her handwriting? Is it legible?” Gage asked, the sound of a vehicle turning over in the background.
He studied the delicate sloping lines. “She wrote it, and it doesn’t appear she was under duress.” As he read Gage the letter, each word burned into his brain.
“It doesn’t make sense. She’s in love with you. Any chance at all that she heard about Bennett’s smear campaign?”
“None whatsoever. And while she might be in love with me, she hated every minute of her life with me. It’s obvious from what she wrote. I knew she wasn’t happy, Gage. No one else saw it, but I did.”
“Call Skye. W
e need to rule out foul play. I’ll be there in ten.”
Ethan disconnected and stood to get dressed. He felt like punching the wall again as his earlier fears were replaced with anger. She had to know what her letter would do to him. Had to know it would tear him apart. She’d destroyed him with the simple stroke of a pen. You don’t leave someone a note when you’re going to rip out their heart. You deal with your problems like adults. Talk it out. But no, she…
“Ethan. Oh…” Claudia stared at him from the doorway to his bedroom, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed.
He grabbed the sheets from his bed to cover himself. “God damn it, Claudia. What the hell are you doing here?”
With her gaze fixated on his crotch, she moved her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Ethan, did—” his mother began as she came up behind Claudia. “We’ll let you get dressed.” She closed the door, then spoke from behind it. “I don’t know how to tell you this, darling, but Kendall left you. I realize you think you’re in love with her, but after everything you saw and heard last night, even you have to admit it’s for the best.”
He threw the door open as he pulled on a shirt. “How do you know she left me? If either of you had anything to do with this, I swear to God, I’ll—”
His mother’s eyes widened. “No, of course, we didn’t.”
Claudia handed him her cell phone. “She released a statement on her blog. I can see you’re upset about this, Ethan, but—”
“You think I’m upset? My wife, a woman I adore, a woman who is carrying my child, left me, Claudia, so ‘upset’ doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling right now.” He pointed a finger at his mother. “And don’t patronize me by insinuating that I don’t know how I feel about Kendall. I have never loved any other woman like I love her.”
His mother’s eyes filled, and she touched his arm. “I’m sorry, darling.”
He nodded as he scanned the statement on Claudia’s phone.
“You probably don’t want to hear this right now, Ethan, but you can’t afford to be distracted. You have an election to win. Kendall’s post appeared within half an hour of Bennett’s team releasing the photos. It’s still too early to gauge voter reaction but, so far, none of your major supporters have pulled out.”
“Keep me informed. I have to try and get ahold of someone who can tell me that Kendall and the baby are okay.”
“Ethan, what are you going to do about the baby?”
“Right this minute, Mom, I have no idea. I have no idea what I’m going to do about anything.” That may have been how he was feeling, but he also knew he owed it to everyone—his team, his supporters, and most especially his dad—to get his head back in the game.
Gage walked into the house. “Madison called Vivi. Skye’s with her dad in Texas. She and the baby are fine. My wife says to tell you to fix this or else.”
“Tell Madison I’m going to give it my best shot.” He was torn between wanting to give his wife time to think about how good they’d been together and wanting to clear this up before it went on too long. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll head for Texas now.”
“No, you can’t go, Ethan. I’ve lined up interviews for the next few days to deal with the fallout.” Claudia cast him a desperate look. “This was what I meant when I said she’s spoiled and self-absorbed. She knows there’s no way you can leave here with the election only days away, but she expects you to chase after her. This is a ploy to get your attention. Can’t she just pick up a phone like a normal person? No, of course she can’t. Instead she has to create a major drama. It’s ridiculous. She’s ridiculous.”
“Claudia, I’m not going to warn you again. I’ve had it with you slamming her. You realize you’re part of the reason she left, don’t you?”
She threw up her hands. “That’s right, Ethan, blame me. Me, who has worked twenty-four seven to get you elected. Just toss it all away on a spoiled little rich girl throwing a temper tantrum because everything doesn’t go her way. If you go after her, I’m done.”
“No, Claudia, wait,” his mother called out as the other woman stormed through the front door. “Ethan, go after her.” When he didn’t immediately do as Liz said, her shoulders sagged. “You’re going to throw away your dream, your father’s dream, on a woman who doesn’t care enough to put you first. That’s what real love is, Ethan—making sacrifices.”
He squeezed his mother’s shoulder. It was as much her dream as it was his, and he had a promise to keep to his father. He’d win the damn race for all of them. And then he’d go to Texas and bring his wife home where she belonged.
* * *
Four days after she’d left Ethan, Skye sat beside her father in the media room with its red-and-gold damask-papered walls and red velvet drapes nervously waiting for the election coverage to begin. Ethan had stopped calling yesterday. As the days passed, it had become harder not to respond to his texts and calls. She missed him desperately, but she was afraid she wasn’t strong enough to say no to him. Afraid if she heard his whiskey-smooth voice, she’d give in. If he lost the election, he’d never be able to forgive her. And if he won… Skye was afraid she’d end up resenting him, end up hating herself for giving up on everything she believed in.
She glanced at her father, who was on his iPhone checking the exit polls while Betty Jean made popcorn in the kitchen. She was as bighearted as her hair, and Skye had fallen in love with her stepmother-to-be. Betty Jean had made it her mission to repair Skye’s damaged relationship with her father. Surprisingly—or, given that Betty Jean was as stubborn as a Texas longhorn, maybe not so surprisingly after all—they were becoming closer.
But not so close that Skye felt comfortable asking her father the question that had been bugging her since she met Betty Jean. She knew she should, though. Despite their differences, Betty Jean and her father made their relationship work. Something Skye had been unable to accomplish with Ethan.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Betty Jean wouldn’t hear her. The last thing she’d ever want to do was hurt the woman. “I don’t understand this thing with you and Betty Jean. Don’t get me wrong, I adore her. I think she’s amazing, but I remember you and Mom. I remember your fights about her being a vegan, a liberal, and an environmentalist. Betty Jean is Mom, only bolder and brighter and louder. And you kicked Mom out.”
He scratched his cheek, then put down his phone. “No, I didn’t. Your mother left us, Kend… Skye.” Betty Jean had insisted her father call Skye by her chosen name. “I made up that story to protect you. I didn’t want you to feel like she’d abandoned you.”
She stared at her father, unable to believe what he was telling her. “All these years I thought… So you let me think you were the bad guy?” She shook her head, remembering what it’d been like those first months after her mother had left. “I said some pretty mean things to you that you didn’t deserve. I was so angry at you for putting your political career ahead of her.” She leaned back in the red velvet chair. “I wish you would’ve told me.”
He shrugged. “You loved your mother. I understood why you were lashing out. I have broad shoulders; I could take it. You were such a little bitty thing back then.” He gave her a half smile. “I thought about telling you around the time you went off to school, but by then we didn’t have much of a relationship.”
“I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to kick me out like you had her. You told me how much I was like her, so I didn’t think you loved me, either.” It was only when the words came out of her mouth that Skye realized that was how she’d felt.
“I loved you. Maybe I wasn’t very good at showing you, but I did, I do.”
“Admit it, Daddy, you thought I was a screw-up. And I guess I pretty much proved you right, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t think you were living up to your potential. You’re a bright girl, but you were too busy flitting around from one cause to the other. Took you a while, but it seems like you’re headed in the right direction now
. I’m proud of what you’ve done since you frittered away all your money.”
She sighed. “I didn’t fritter it away, Daddy. Big Al embezzled at least half of it from me.”
“Now, Skylar Davis, why in the hell didn’t you tell me that? I would’ve put my lawyers on him.”
“You can’t get water from a stone. Besides, I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on my finances. I am now. And Maddie’s looking after my investments for me.” Well, she had been before Skye had left Christmas. Now she didn’t think her best friend would ever speak to her again.
He rubbed his thumb over his iPhone. “You’re a lot more like Betty Jean than you are your mother. The three of you had similar views, all of you vegans and environmentalists, all of you a little bit crazy, but there’s a difference. You and Betty Jean are selfless and kind. You care about people as much as you care about animals and the environment. Your mother didn’t. She was a radical. You did silly little things like release the horses and throw paint on Mrs. Harmon’s fur coat, but you would never intentionally hurt someone. Your mother did. Two years after she left, she deliberately drove her car into a vehicle carrying several oil executives. They survived, but your mother didn’t. She was a selfish and angry woman.”
Skye squeezed her eyes shut. “You told me she died climbing Kilimanjaro.”
“I thought it would be a nice memory for you. Kind of heroic. I didn’t want you to know what she’d done.”
“Geez, Daddy, I wish you would’ve told me the truth before I climbed Kilimanjaro in her memory. I nearly died doing that climb.”
He huffed out a breath. “I don’t know how I have a hair left on my head with what you got up to.” He gave her an awkward hug. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you. I was worried you would turn out like her. I shouldn’t have. I could see you were nothing like her where it really counted. Her parents spoiled her, gave in to her every whim. I thought if I was tough on you…”
