by Pat Warren
“I shouldn’t have called,” Fitz said at last, wondering what Liz was thinking on the other end. “It’s not fair of me to keep dragging you back into this.”
Her back to the archway where Molly sat, Liz struggled for composure. “No, Fitz. I want to know. I… I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I feel so helpless. I wish there were something I could do.” There is, her conscience reminded her. Tell him about his daughter. But she couldn’t ruin so many other lives, not after all these years. “What about adoption? Have they considered that?”
“I’ve been thinking of suggesting that. Of course, I don’t know if Diane would go for it. I have a feeling she didn’t want her own child, much less someone else’s. And I don’t know if Adam would be interested.”
“It’s worth a try. Adoption just might be the answer.”
He heard the emotion in her voice and wished he could rewrite history. Adam and Liz belonged together. She loved the man, not his career or his power. At no small personal risk, she’d rushed to his hospital bedside the minute Fitz had called her. Liz would have given him babies galore by now, would have been more interested in motherhood than in being a senator’s wife.
Fitz knew how hard it was to let go of someone you cared about but couldn’t have. The memory of Sandy Wilkins still haunted him and was undoubtedly the reason he hadn’t been able to handle a serious relationship since. If he couldn’t have a strong mutual love such as he’d witnessed the night he’d seen Liz weep over Adam, he would not consider a poor substitute.
Adam and Diane had a marriage like that, and maybe that’s the kind Liz had with Richard as well. She’d never hinted one way or the other, and it wasn’t his place to ask. If only he could replay those few weeks after Adam’s election as attorney general. The bitter memories of their father’s behavior had kept Adam from pursuing Liz, and he was paying the price now. Fitz carried around his own share of guilt for encouraging Adam to forget her.
“Do you think my talking with Adam would help?” Liz asked into the silence. “That is, if you could arrange a private moment.” She hated the idea of more deception, calling behind Diane’s back and Richard’s; but she’d risk it if she could help Adam.
“I’m not sure. Diane hardly ever leaves his side these days.”
She knew she probably shouldn’t ask, but she had to know. “Has he ever mentioned remembering something about my being there when he was unconscious?”
“Once, shortly after his release. He thought it was a dream.”
Liz felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief.
“It’s still just between us,” Fitz went on. “So don’t worry.”
It was no longer just between them, Liz thought, fairly certain that Molly had overheard enough to piece things together. Fortunately she could trust Molly to the death. “I’m not worried. If you feel it would help for me to make that call, let me know.”
“I will. And Liz, thanks.” Fitz wondered fleetingly if he’d begun calling her for Adam’s sake or his own. She seemed to cushion his concern. “Take care.”
Slowly Liz hung up the phone and took a deep, steadying breath before turning back to Molly.
Molly picked up the pot. “Let me pour you more tea. You look as if you could use a fresh cup.”
Liz sat down and gazed out the window, thinking of Adam and Diane’s apparently troubled marriage, of Fitz’s concern, of the way she was deceiving Richard, of sweet Sara, and of Molly’s lingering pain. Just a few years ago, the future had stretched before them all, looking golden. “When did life get so damn complicated?” she asked aloud as Molly refilled both cups.
“Aren’t you playing with fire here, honey?” Molly asked. She watched Liz turn to face her, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and wanted to hug her in comfort.
“Until recently, I believed that even if you couldn’t always control your feelings, you could control your actions. Since the accident, I hurt so much for him that I’m no longer certain I can control my actions. I want so badly to go to him, to hold him, to make his pain go away.” She hiccuped around a dry sob. “And I can’t go near him. I haven’t the right.”
“Oh, honey,” Molly whispered, reaching out to squeeze Liz’s hand.
Diane McKenzie lit her tenth cigarette of the day as she sat down on the green leather chair across the desk from her brother-in-law. She’d smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and it wasn’t noon yet. She was smoking too much and eating too much, she acknowledged with chagrin as she tugged at her tight skirt. Both indulgences were signs of discontent and frustration.
Another reason she was nervous was that she’d been summoned to Fitz’s office as if she were some little flunky aide instead of the wife of an influential United States senator. Of course, she could have refused Fitz’s somewhat brusque request. During the years she’d worked as an aide to Adam in Sacramento—most notably during the Judge Becker trial—Fitz had treated her with respect and a grudging admiration. Since her marriage, however, she seemed to be skating on thin ice with him, and she didn’t want to make matters worse, since Fitz always had Adam’s ear.
“Well, sugar, just what exactly do you need to talk with me about?” she asked, masking her curiosity with sweetness.
Fitz had mentally rehearsed this conversation and hoped it would go his way. “Isn’t it great that Adam flew to Washington this morning? It’s a good sign that he’s showing renewed interest in his work, don’t you think?” Actually, Adam had returned because the Senate was in session, and he couldn’t keep using his health as an excuse to malinger; but he’d left looking less than enthusiastic.
“Yes, it is,” she said through a cloud of smoke. She’d wanted to go with him, but Adam had insisted he wouldn’t be away long. Luckily Barry had accompanied him, so she’d soon get a complete report on Adam’s activities.
“We’ve both been worried about him, and after much thought and many conversations with Adam, I have an idea that might help him return to his old self.” Fitz watched her face and wished he could read her devious mind.
Diane’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t slow-dance with me, sugar. Out with it.”
“I think you should suggest adopting a child.” He saw by her surprised expression that that was one she hadn’t even considered. He rushed on before she came up with a litany of objections. “I don’t believe anything has affected Adam as much as learning he couldn’t father a child. You told me recently that you regretted not giving him one, right?”
She had said that, but only when she knew she no longer could. Drawing deeply on her cigarette, she bought a little time as she gathered her defense. “Yes, I did. But adoption? I don’t know. Things have changed. There are fewer babies given up for adoption these days, and an older child wouldn’t do. I think Adam’s all right now, and—”
“No, he isn’t.” Fitz’s normally soft voice was louder, firmer. “I know Adam better than you. Do you want him to deteriorate further, to lose interest in his work, to abandon his goals altogether? Are you ready to give up being a senator’s wife, to return to private life with a brooding husband?”
Diane’s expression hardened. “No, I’m not. I’m also not prepared to take on a child to raise.”
Fitz hadn’t wanted to play dirty, but she left him no choice. “Do I have to remind you that facing a life without hope, Adam’s father—my father—blew his own brains out rather than go on?”
Diane flushed. “You bastard.” He had her, damn his soul. Fitz knew the right buttons to push. He knew she didn’t want to watch Adam throw away a very promising career while she went back to being a nobody.
But a child? She was thirty-two, much too old to be washing diapers and making formula. However, if it would put Adam back on track and get Fitz off her back, she’d do it. With the help of hired nannies and sitters, of course. Besides, she’d heard adoptions sometimes took years to complete.
She tried to rearrange her expression, needing Fitz’s reluctant cooperation, if not his approval. “I’ll call an agenc
y right away.”
He’d been studying her, could almost hear the wheels turning. He’d seen her blanch and knew he’d hit home. Her acquiescence was no generous gesture, but a calculated and selfish move. If she could, she’d find a way to turn this around in her favor. He would have to keep a watch on her and make sure she was a good mother to the child. “Not an agency. Too public. I know an attorney who can arrange a private adoption. But first, I want you to bring up the subject to Adam when he returns and convince him it was your idea.” His direct stare dared her to disagree.
He’d maneuvered her neatly to exactly where he wanted her. She took a deep breath to calm herself because the urge to leap across the desk and go for his jugular was almost overpowering. She put out her cigarette and daintily removed the butt from her gold holder, then sent him what she hoped would pass for a contrite smile. “Done, brother Fitz.” She rose and met his eyes. “Anything else?”
He could have gone on for hours. “No, that’s it.”
Without another word, she turned and left his office. Fitz stared at the closed door as he leaned back on his chair. He didn’t like himself very much at the moment. And he disliked Diane even more. He thought of Adam. With all his heart, he hoped he’d done the right thing.
Liz drove along the coastal highway with the windows wide open despite the chill night air. She couldn’t bear the thought of a closed-up car, for the odor emanating from the woman snoring noisily alongside her was enough to make her gag.
She’d received a call from her mother several hours ago. Katherine had heard from the San Diego police. It seemed that Nancy had been picked up for being drunk and disorderly. Not wanting to upset Joseph, Mrs. Townsend had called Liz. As she’d done several times before, Liz had driven to the station to get her sister.
Liz hadn’t even known Nancy was back in town. Much to Liz’s regret, Richard was in Washington, obtaining depositions on an important case. His firm represented one of southern California’s large aeronautical companies that had been granted a number of government contracts. There’d been a problem recently, and Richard had decided to handle it himself. That was a shame, for she could have used his solid support.
Why? was the question that kept rumbling around in Liz’s troubled mind. Why did Nancy drink so much? Why was she ruining her health and her life? Liz asked herself.
After paying Nancy’s fine and signing the papers, she’d turned to see her sister being brought out of the lock-up. Her once lovely hair was stringy and needed washing, her eyes were unfocused, her skin shockingly pale, and her clothes soiled. Liz remembered what a sweet girl her sister had been, and her heart went out to her. Supporting most of her weight, she’d helped Nancy into her car.
Now, pulling into her circular drive, Liz was grateful that Richard wasn’t home to see her sister looking so terrible. It took no small amount of maneuvering to get Nancy upstairs, into the guest bath, undressed, and under the shower. The cold water revived her almost immediately.
“Jesus, you trying to drown me?” Nancy complained as she reached out to the tile walls to keep from falling.
Ignoring her whining, Liz switched to warmer water and helped her wash, then shampoo. Then she wrapped Nancy in a terry-cloth bathrobe and wound a towel around her head. “Dry your hair. I’ll be right back.”
Liz went downstairs, and threw the soiled laundry in the washer, then put on some coffee. She went to check on Sara, who was sound asleep, and stopped by Emma’s room to talk for a moment. Next she poured a mug of the strong brew and took it up to where Nancy stood smoking on the balcony of the guest room. “It’s pretty cool out here for someone with a wet head,” she remarked as she offered the coffee mug to her sister. It was, after all, a chilly March night.
Nancy turned, looking glassy-eyed and argumentative. “You going to make me take a vitamin C with a glass of orange juice, too, big sister?” Her words were slurred and slow in coming.
“If you’d like.” She knew better than to argue with Nancy after one of her drinking bouts—or to question her. If she wasn’t careful, there’d be a loud, ugly scene, and Liz didn’t feel up to one tonight.
“What do you know about what I’d like, or even care?” Nancy gulped the steaming liquid, unmindful of the heat.
Perhaps she could soothe her a bit, calm her, Liz decided. She had to be feeling rotten inside. “You’re right. I don’t know what you like. But I do care about you.”
Nancy brushed back her damp hair. “Sure you do, about as much as your cleaning lady or your hairdresser.”
Liz stepped inside. “Think what you will. I do care about you, and so do Mom and Dad.”
“Yeah, sure. We’re one big happy, well-adjusted family. Dear sweet Mama, who gave up everything including herself to keep dear old Daddy happy. But she couldn’t quite manage it, could she? Not that you’d know. Heaven forbid someone should suspect the Townsends are anything but perfect. So we put on a smile and pretend.”
Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup as Nancy walked in past Liz, sitting down heavily on a chair alongside a reading lamp. “All except you, Liz. You’re always perfect. You see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. I’m the black sheep and you’re the white lamb. Daddy’s favorite and Mama’s darling. Never did a bad thing or made a wrong move in her life. That’s my sister.”
Liz tried to keep the impatience from her voice. She’d heard ramblings of this type from Nancy before on these occasions. But some of it was new, and she wondered how much was booze talking and how much was how Nancy really felt.
“I’m hardly perfect,” she said, turning down the bed, then sitting on the edge. “I’ve made my share of mistakes. I live with some regrets.” She was certain Nancy didn t know about her biggest regret, and she meant to keep it that way. There’d been a time when she and Nancy had been close, even confidantes. But that had ended the summer Nancy had turned sixteen and unexpectedly had begun to change for the worse.
Nancy ground out her cigarette in the ashtray as if she were grinding it in the face of an unseen adversary. “No shades of gray in how Mama sees things, no margin of error possible. She sees all my warts and can’t forgive me. On the other hand, in some people she chooses to look the other way, to pretend. Why do you suppose that is?”
Liz rose and walked wearily to the door. “I’m not your enemy, Nancy. Or your judge and jury. I just wish you weren’t so self-destructive. For your sake, not mine.”
“Yeah, yeah, sis,” Nancy said, getting shakily to her feet and shuffling to the bed. “Go call Mama and tell her you’ve found me, and I’m not going to disgrace her beloved family by doing something vulgar in public.” She yawned expansively and slowly fell across the bed.
Liz went back, shifted Nancy’s head onto the pillow, and covered her. As she was about to turn, she saw Nancy’s eyes pop open.
“One of these days, we’re going to have to have a real heart-to-heart talk, big sister. And you ain’t going to like what you hear one damn bit.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she was asleep in moments.
Frowning, Liz went downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Maybe it would relax her. Coffee would only keep her awake, and she had a feeling sleep wasn’t going to come easily tonight anyway. She took it into the den and sat on the BarcaLounger, putting her feet up. She’d just taken the first sip when the phone on the end table rang. Thinking it was probably Richard, she tried putting a smile in her voice as she answered it.
“Liz?” a deep voice asked cautiously. “This is Adam.”
Her heart literally stopped, then started again in a rush of emotion. “Adam, are you all right?”
“Yes. I know I shouldn’t be calling you, especially not so late. It’s nearly midnight there, isn’t it?”
“Ten to. Where are you?”
“I’m in Washington. I ran into Richard having a dinner meeting at the Hyatt tonight, so I thought you’d be alone.” He paused, groping for the right words. “As I said, I shouldn’t be calling, but I just
wanted to hear your voice.”
Liz closed her eyes. She should say a few polite words, then hang up. She should not let this go on. Yet she so badly wanted to talk with him, too. “It’s good hearing from you.”
She wasn’t going to slough him off. He felt relieved, encouraged. “How have you been? I’m not quite sure why, but you’ve been on my mind lately.” As he went from meeting to meeting, as he listened to endless speeches, as he tried to go to sleep, and even in his restless dreams. Why, after all these years, was the memory of her, the need for her, suddenly so strong again?
“I’m all right.” She thought of Nancy upstairs, sleeping it off. “Getting by, I guess. I take it you’re recovered from your accident?” She didn’t want him to know she’d spoken with Fitz just a week ago.
“So they tell me. My energy level isn’t like it once was. Remember how I’d put in eighteen-hour days, then come to your place and we’d scramble some eggs and talk sometimes till the sunrise?” And inevitably, the long conversations had ended with even longer sessions in her cozy double bed.
Memory lane. It was a road filled with potholes. “Yes, I remember,” she said softly, all too well.
“It’s snowing here,” he said, looking out his hotel room window. “I wish I were there with you, that we could take my boat out on a calm sea and forget about the rest of the world.”
Liz pressed her lips together, unable to comment, memories rushing in on her. She was tired and vulnerable tonight, that was all. Otherwise hearing from Adam wouldn’t have this effect on her, she told herself.
“Do you sometimes wish that, too, Liz?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly, feeling the guilt wash over her at the admission. She was another man’s wife, for God’s sake. “Adam, I’m glad you’re all right, but I think I should hang up.”
