Private Indiscretions

by Susan Crosby

  “Telling may damage your credibility,” Dana said. “But it also may make you more human. You’ll be talking from experience.”

  “Leave it to you to see the bright side.”

  Yeah. Leave it to me. Little Mary Sunshine.

  The door opened. Jonathan was escorted in by Nate and Arianna. Sam followed with two chairs.

  Jonathan didn’t even glance in Dana’s direction. He went straight to Lilith. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She leaned away from him.

  “You’re not fine.”

  “I am.”

  Dana clamped her mouth shut, but her mind screamed, “What about me? Does anyone care about me?” She read the plea in Lilith’s eyes. “Go home,” she said, wanting her gone, knowing there was nothing left to say.

  Sam roared to life. “Like hell.”

  She turned to him, her voice calm. “The decision is mine.”

  His eyes went cold. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dana understood his anger. He’d fought a battle and won. Now the guilty were being set free without a trial, even though all the evidence was there and fairly gathered.

  “I think we’re not needed here any longer,” Arianna said to Nate as soon as Lilith and Jonathan left. “Senator, I hope to see you in the near future.”

  “Likewise,” Nate added.

  “Thank you,” she said. It was all she could manage.

  After the door shut, Dana and Sam faced each other.

  She hadn’t seen this side of Sam before, the controlled but escalating fury. It turned his eyes to steel and his jaw to granite. Had he grown a few inches? He looked huge. Imposing. Powerful.

  “Dana.”

  She expected anger. Accusation. Frustration. But he said her name with such tenderness. She couldn’t make it fit with how he looked. Confused, she shut her eyes. She felt him move closer. He said her name again. She opened her eyes and he was there, right in front of her, her knight in shining armor yet again, offering her sympathy. Understanding. Caring. The world moved in slow motion as it caved in around her, dragging her into a deep, dark pit. “Oh, God, Sam. She was my best friend. My best friend. How could she do that?”

  He wrapped her in his arms, stopping her from falling into the pit. She fought tears, not wanting to seem weak. He liked her strength. Admired it and her—

  “Cry,” he said into her hair. “Just cry.”

  After a minute she realized she wasn’t crying only because of Lilith but because of Sam, too. There was no reason for him to stay—and every reason for him to go, before her public presence complicated his life beyond repair.

  “Let’s go,” he said at last.

  She should have felt better now that the threat was resolved, but a different kind of fear settled in and refused to budge.

  Fifteen

  Sam felt Dana’s gaze on him as he drove her home. They’d barely spoken since leaving the hotel. He didn’t know what to say. The job was over. Time to deal with the real issues.

  “One of the things I admire about you,” she said into the quiet, “is your tenacity. I knew you would find the needle in the haystack. I knew you would find who was behind the letters, even with so little to go on.”

  “I wasn’t so sure.” He glanced at her. “You were magnificent during the banquet.”

  “I was petrified.”

  “Courage isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about how you handle your fear.” He slowed for a stop sign. “Why aren’t you running for reelection?”

  “You know, I was thirty years old when I took office,” she said, weariness in her voice. “The minimum age for a senator. I hadn’t held public office before. My only qualification was that I’d been married to a man who’d served almost twenty years in Congress.”

  “You have advanced degrees in political science. You worked in his office for years, wrote his speeches, were part of his policy-making strategies. And you’ve done a good job on your own.”

  “But it’s all I’ve done. I’ve lived it. Breathed it. I run seven offices and employ seventy people. I have to study harder, know more, and at the same time not rile anyone, plus defer to those who’ve been there longer, who’ve proven themselves, even when I think they’re wrong.”

  “You would prove yourself, in time.” He had no doubt about that.

  “But most senators build up to their position. I didn’t. There was resentment about that, but because Randall was so popular and I was a young, grieving widow, no one hassled me. Not publicly. This time around, the gloves would be off.”

  “You can handle that.”

  “I don’t want to handle that.”

  “Ah.”

  “I thought I knew what the business of politics was about. The compromises you have to make. The games you have to play. Some people learn how to work the system and still accomplish their goals and keep some of their ideals intact. I’m not ready to compromise, I guess. I’m not ready to let go of some of the principles I cherish.”

  “What will you do?”

  “What I always wanted to do. What I studied so hard for. I’m going to teach. At the university level.” She leaned toward him. “And I haven’t told another soul about this, but I plan to run for the Senate again in another twenty or twenty-five years.”

  The idea pleased him. “You’d make the record books.”

  “I wouldn’t mind that. I’d like to leave a legacy for future generations.”

  She’d left the words hanging out there for him to react to or ignore. He chose to ignore them. A minute later they were pulling in to her driveway. He didn’t turn off the engine.

  “You’re not coming inside?” she asked quietly.

  “I can’t.” He willed her to understand.

  “I know,” she said, then her expression turned more intense. “Why not?”

  Because she would push him for answers he couldn’t give her—answers she wouldn’t want to hear. He didn’t believe what she felt for him was real, but he knew she couldn’t see that yet. Soon, though. And he didn’t want to be around to hear her try to say she’d made a mistake.

  “Why did you let Lilith and her husband go?” he asked instead.

  She frowned at the change of subject. “What good would come from pursuing some kind of punishment? Are you mad at me because I didn’t punish them? Is that what this is about? Because if anyone has a right to be angry, it’s me. I had a right to know about Lilith. You should’ve told me you suspected her.”

  “When? Before the banquet, when I wasn’t sure? I didn’t make the connection of the typefaces until we were there. It would’ve ruined your evening whether I’d been right or wrong. I wanted to be wrong. I’d hoped Harley would burst into the room so that I could have the pleasure of hauling him off.”

  “I wanted the same thing.”

  She put a hand on his arm. He didn’t want it there, a reminder of what he was giving up, because he knew her. He knew her. Knew that just as in high school, she had a new life ahead of her, one he couldn’t be responsible for slowing down. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize her feelings for him were nostalgic and ephemeral, tied up in the moment of confusion and mystery that they’d just experienced.

  “There’s something I’ve wanted to know for a long time,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Why were you able to rescue me from Harley before? Why were you there?”

  He ran his hand along the dashboard, brushing away nonexistent dust. “Right place, right time. I was on my way to your house. To say goodbye.” Needing to avoid her father, he’d been waiting down the road when he’d seen Harley’s truck pull off into a well-forested area. He thought he saw Dana in the passenger seat but wasn’t sure, so he followed.

  “Goodbye? Before graduation?”

  “Classes were done. I’d officially graduated. I wasn’t hanging around an extra day to sit through the ceremony.”

  “Then I went to the police,” she said. “And Harley and his buddies came afte
r you.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t want to rehash it anymore.

  “Why did you come to the ceremony, then? Everyone could see you’d been beaten.”

  “To show Harley he hadn’t won. Then—”

  She waited. “Then what?”

  “You wouldn’t even look at me.” That was the worst. She hadn’t once looked his way. Hurt and angry, he’d left her the medal so that she wouldn’t forget him. Because of that medal they’d come full circle. He had to say goodbye again. Leave her again.

  “I told you, Sam. I was protecting you. I figured I had time to make it up to you. I didn’t. You left town without telling anyone you were leaving. Then when you showed up at the reunion, I thought I had a second chance to set things right, but I hadn’t expected to fall in love with you.”

  Don’t tell me that. “You reacted to the situation,” Sam said, keeping his voice level when he wanted to shout. Nobody falls in love that fast. Nobody. He knew what drove her to think she had. But in time she would forget him, just like before. He had to find a way to end it right now, even if the truth hurt.

  “You became dependent,” he said, sure of his words. “Then you transferred that dependency into something else. Infatuation, or whatever you want to call it.”

  “I’m not a teenager. If I say I love you, I do. Did last night mean nothing to you?”

  “Last night was great. I already told you thank-you.” Just get out of the car and walk away, he told her silently.

  “You shared your secrets with me. Your pain,” she said quietly, her voice strained. “You gave without asking anything in return. You made me stop looking back and inspired me to look to the future.” Dana leaned close to him. “I know it seems fast, but it doesn’t make it any less real.”

  “You’ll see.”

  “At least come in for a nightcap,” she said. “It’s hard talking in the car.”

  “I can’t. I’m going home.”

  “Home? To L.A.?”

  He nodded.

  “Now? Tonight? But you have your car. You would have to drive.” Dana heard her voice go shrill and tried to tone it down. “It’s already past eleven. By the time you check out of the hotel—”

  “I already checked out. My luggage is in the trunk.”

  The proverbial ton of bricks fell on her. He’d known he was leaving. He’d planned it.

  “I never figured you for a coward, Sam.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing you found out now.” His voice was firm and factual.

  Dana wasn’t buying any of it. No one shares the kind of week they did only to make an about-face from concerned, gentle protector to casual, sarcastic acquaintance.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “You said last night that you’d be happy with that.”

  “I thought you’d give us a chance once the threat was gone and we were living normal lives again. You’re not going to give us a chance?”

  “I’m telling you, Dana, that you’ve created some sort of fantasy. We had some unfinished business, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all, and you know it.”

  “You’re grateful.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Whoa. This is a side of you I haven’t seen. When did you become Mr. Chauvinist? I thought you respected me.”

  “Exactly my point. You don’t know me. How can you love me? What you’re feeling is temporary.”

  “What if it isn’t?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I don’t feel the same way you do.”

  He couldn’t be any more clear than that, but oh how it hurt. Tears burned her eyes. She refused to cry in front of him.

  She opened her door. “Have a good life.”

  If he said something she didn’t hear it. The front door seemed a mile away. She focused on it like a life raft after a shipwreck. She didn’t hear his engine start, so he must be watching her until she was safely inside, ever the protector.

  Had she confused love with a strange kind of dependency? With lust? With infatuation?

  She picked up her pace, needing to be away from his all-seeing gaze. The life raft still bobbed too far out of reach.

  Had she wanted the fairy-tale ending so badly that she saw only his heroic qualities? She’d had a comfortable relationship with Randall. She wouldn’t have a comfortable relationship with Sam.

  But she’d thought she could have life instead. Passion. A partner in the best sense of the word. Someone willing to argue…and make up. Have babies with.

  Love her.

  She reached the door, shoved the heavy wooden portal open and almost fell inside. She pushed the door shut and leaned against it, covering her face with her hands.

  Love her.

  Sam would challenge her. Believe in her. She could tell him her fears. She wouldn’t have to be right all the time. In fact, he would take great delight in telling her when she was wrong. And he could bask in her own love, unwavering and infinite.

  Why didn’t he want that?

  “Ma’am?”

  Dana pushed away from the door, swiped at her tears. “Hilda. What are you doing up?”

  The older woman came a little closer, her white robe glowing in the dim light of the foyer. “That Mr. Caldwell came here tonight after you left for the banquet and wanted something from your sitting room to take to Mr. Remington. I tried to call you at the hotel but I couldn’t get through to you. Was it okay?”

  Dana sighed. “Yes, it was fine.”

  “I didn’t like doing it without your permission.”

  “It’s all right, Hilda. Is that all?” She wanted to be alone. She was never alone.

  “Mr. Remington isn’t with you?”

  “No. Why?” Her patience was as brittle as spun sugar.

  “I just wondered how many for breakfast.”

  “Just me. Just me forever,” she snapped, then regretted her tone instantly. “Look, I’m really tired. I’m going to bed.” She walked past Hilda, reached the bottom step of the staircase.

  “I was hoping he might be around awhile, ma’am.”

  It took Dana a few seconds to absorb Hilda’s words, so rare was it that she offered a personal opinion. Dana stopped on the fourth step and turned around. “Why?”

  Hilda hesitated. “I just— This doesn’t seem to be a good time for a talk.”

  “Lay it on me.” How much worse could her night get?

  “I was hoping, ma’am, that he’d be the one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he made you happy. And because I’m ready to retire. I didn’t want to leave until you were settled.”

  Dana plopped onto the stairs. She stared at Hilda in amazement. “I didn’t think you even liked me.”

  Hilda’s eyes softened. A small smile touched her lips, surprising Dana.

  “The reason I’m still here is because I like you. I’ve been waiting for you to find someone and get married again. I didn’t want to leave you alone. But I want to spend the rest of my years near my family. My grandchildren. I’ll stay until you find someone, of course, ma’am.”

  “Of course,” Dana repeated, watching Hilda disappear down the hallway. She pressed her face against her legs to muffle the hysterical laughter that threatened.

  After a minute she continued up the stairs, making a mental to-do list: 1. Hire new housekeeper (probably going to need three people to replace Hilda). 2. Get over Sam.

  She stopped in her bedroom door and studied the room, then revised her list: 1. Sell house and find much smaller place. 2. Get over Sam.

  Sixteen

  Sam wanted a shower, a steak and twelve hours’ sleep. He punched his alarm code into the panel outside his front door, then lugged his gear inside. The silence assaulted him. After a month of nonstop business on the East Coast, he was home at last, but not until he’d endured a five-hour weather delay at Logan Airport.

  He kicked the door shut behind him, dropped his garment bag and briefcase on the landing, then went directly into the kitchen, where
he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and a steak from the freezer, tossing it onto the counter. He took a long swig of beer as he headed to his office. No new messages—just the ones he’d saved from Dana.

  She’d called twice during the month. She could have called on his cell phone, but she’d chosen to call at home, probably assuming he wouldn’t be there to pick up. The first time she apologized for the media attention. People were speculating about them having broken up before they were really an item, as well as wondering who he was.

  He pushed the Playback button to hear the second message for the fiftieth time, a message he still hadn’t deleted: “I love you, Sam. If you believe nothing else in this world, believe that.”

  That message had gotten to him more than anything else. Not only the words, but the emotion in her voice. She hadn’t left a message in the two weeks since.

  His finger hovered over the Erase button. After a minute he headed to his bedroom, stripped down, then moved toward the bathroom.

  Catching a glimpse of the Noh mask, he stopped to raise his bottle to it and the empty space beside it before taking another long swallow. A minute later he stood under a hard spray of hot water. He dragged some shampoo through his hair and soap down his body, then he leaned his hands against the tile wall and let the water beat his shoulders and back. God, he was tired. Tired of work. Tired of being alone.

  Tired of missing Dana. Tired of telling himself he didn’t.

  His dreams were full of her. His arms were empty of her. He expected the ache to have faded by now, but it had only gotten worse. He’d caught her on C-SPAN purely by accident at three o’clock in the morning a couple of days ago in a taped committee hearing. Her August recess over, she was back in Washington. He could picture what she wore under her suit.

  He couldn’t stomach the idea of her with another man. He couldn’t imagine life without her by his side. He would tell Nate and Arianna tomorrow that he was going after Dana, if she didn’t toss him out on his ear. He’d leave the firm if he had to.