Forbidden

by Pat Warren

  From across the room, Nancy rose, her hands trembling. There were no tears on her face as she approached her father’s deathbed from the other side. She stood looking down at the frail, silent man and felt her chin quiver as she struggled with overlapping emotions. Anger, unfulfilled needs, a sense of injustice. “Why couldn’t you have loved me more?” she whispered.

  Katherine looked over at her youngest. “He did love you, very much.”

  Nancy swallowed hard. “I only heard him say it once.” One terrible afternoon that had changed her life. Only recently, after countless talks with Liz, had she begun to think that, though her father had done some wrong things that day, he hadn’t been responsible for her reaction or her behavior afterward. Desperately she longed to tell him she knew that now and forgave him, that she wanted his forgiveness for all she’d put him and her mother through. Just once more, she wanted him to tell her he cared.

  “He told me quite often, Nancy,” Katherine said firmly. “You have no reason to think he didn’t love both you and Liz equally.”

  God, she wanted to believe that. Bending her head, Nancy felt the tears fall at last.

  Downstairs on the terrace, Liz stood looking out to sea, feeling more alone than when Richard had died. The doctor had left, Mother and Nancy were still upstairs, and Sara was in her room on the phone. Four women, each without a man. It felt odd.

  She, who rarely needed or wanted to lean on anyone, felt an overpowering urge this very moment for strong arms to hold her, to comfort her, to make the sadness go away, if only for a little while. Liz was well aware she’d have to be the strong one of the four, for her mother was worn out, Nancy was still shaky, and Sara was too young to be of much help. She wished she had someone who would lend her the strength she would need to see to the funeral and the long weeks of recovery.

  Unbidden, Adam’s face came into her mind. He had strong arms, and she longed to be in them. He had a take-charge personality, and she wished she could hand over to him all the many details to handle. He’d once made her feel cherished, and she needed that badly right now.

  Yet he was another woman’s husband.

  Wrapping her arms about herself, she lifted her face to a cooling breeze, wondering how long this aching void would haunt her. She’d told him they shouldn’t, they mustn’t, see any more of each other or have any contact. Yet it took all the strength she had not to go inside and call him, just to hear his voice.

  He cared for her, she knew. But he cared for his career even more. Ambition had its tentacles twined around him tightly and had since she’d met him, and before. He couldn’t walk away, nor would she ask him to. While he pursued his fierce dreams, he couldn’t leave the wife he didn’t love. The White House was beckoning, and Adam would heed the call. It was in his blood, she supposed. Even Fitz had inherited some of it.

  Sighing, Liz turned as she heard footsteps coming downstairs. She would go inside, take care of the others, and make all the arrangements. She would do the right thing, as she always did. Taking a calming breath, she left the terrace.

  Adam studied the man seated across the desk from him. “Are you sure, Steve?”

  Steve Quinlan shifted on the leather chair. “Yes. I know you’re getting ready to go to New Orleans for the convention, but I needed to get this over with.”

  He was soft-spoken and shy, a scholarly man, still unmarried. He’d been one of Adam’s campaign workers for his election as attorney general in California and had gone on to work with him in Sacramento, but when Adam had been elected to the Senate, Steve had opted to stay in San Diego to run his California office. He’d been good at his job, very good. That was why Adam was so surprised that Steve had flown in especially to see him.

  He set aside Steve’s brief letter of resignation. “Is anything wrong?”

  Steve swallowed around a huge Adam’s apple. “No. You’ve been great to work with, and I’ve appreciated the opportunity. But… well, let’s just say I’m burned out. It’s taken me a long time—I guess maybe I’m a slow study—but I’ve decided politics isn’t the life for me. It’s too cutthroat, too dog-eat-dog, too rough a life. For me, that is. You, you’re very good at it, Adam. But I’m a fish out of water, and have been for a long while now.”

  Good at it. But was he? Adam asked himself. Good at what, at being cutthroat and rough himself? Some commentary. “I’m going to hate seeing you leave. Your work is exemplary.”

  Steve drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of the chair. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  He shrugged. “Take some time off, hole up in a cabin and catch up on my reading for a while. I’ve had an offer from a small law firm working with indigents. It wouldn’t pay much, but I’ve saved my money. I think I might have something to contribute. After all, what good is it all if you’re not happy?”

  The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Wherever you go, they’ll be lucky to have you,” Adam told him sincerely. “Just let me know when and I’ll write you a letter of recommendation.”

  Steve rose, smiled, and shook Adam’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t handle the rat-race any longer. It gets to you, you know. In order to swim with the sharks, you’ve got to be a shark. I can’t be.”

  “I understand. Good luck, Steve.” Adam sat down after he walked out, swiveled about, and stared out the window. He was feeling Steve’s departure on a far more personal level than he’d have ever imagined.

  Was it because he agreed with Steve’s assessment?

  Adam fervently wished he were one of those people who could lie down in midday, take a fifteen-minute nap, and wake refreshed. It was only four and already he’d put in ten hours, starting with an early breakfast meeting and moving on to a press conference, two television interviews, a luncheon with Palmer and their advisers, and a lengthy conversation with an influential reporter from the Los Angeles Times whom he’d known for years. Just now he’d come in from wandering the convention floor, speaking into assorted floating mikes, and thought he’d take a short rest; but he couldn’t seem to shut off his mind.

  He’d arrived three days ago along with Fitz, several aides, and Diane, his wife glowing with the fuss and attention being shown her. She’d toured New Orleans with a couple of other senators’ wives, lunching at Antoine’s, the press dogging them, and Diane had loved it all. She was in the bedroom of their suite at the Hyatt now, changing into her third outfit of the day. She was really getting on his nerves, Adam thought, rubbing at a spot between his eyes.

  In a swirl of heavy perfume, Diane came charging into the room. “Sugar, would you zip me up, please?” Noticing he was lying down in his dress pants, she frowned. “You’re getting all wrinkled. You’ll have to change. After the count tonight, there’s the celebration party at Congressman Rawlins’s suite, you remember.” Only the highest mucky-mucks were invited to the special event, and Diane could hardly wait.

  Frowning, Adam sat, then stood up, pulling her zipper together. She’d gained more weight, and it wasn’t sliding easily. He’d never been crazy about red, but Diane loved the color. When he finally finished, she turned, stepped back, expecting him to comment on the way she looked. “Nice,” he said, which was the best he could come up with. Her taste had improved through the years, but despite more expensive clothes, she never quite carried off her attempt to look like a lady.

  “‘Nice’? This dress cost seven hundred dollars and all I get is a ‘nice’!” Her full red lips moved into a pout.

  Adam rubbed a hand along his jaw and decided he’d better shave again. “I said you look nice. What more do you want from me, Diane?”

  She trailed after him to the bathroom. “A little affection, a little conversation now and then, a little attention might be nice.”

  Adam removed his shirt and tossed it aside. “Look, you knew what it would be like with this election. There’re only so many hours in the day.” He picked up his razor and turned it on.

  Diane’s eyes w
andered over his bare chest, the curly blond hair covering the hard muscles. It’d been a long time since they’d had sex, and suddenly she found herself heating up as she studied his mirrored image. Slowly she moved closer and ran her hand along his smooth back. “We could be a little late for dinner, sugar.”

  “I’m not going to be at the dinner. Palmer’s called a meeting.”

  “What! You’re leaving me alone again at one of the most important, most prestigious affairs of this convention? Damn it to hell, Adam, if you’re not hanging around that crummy beach house in California with Fitz, then you’re holed up in some meeting with a bunch of cigar-smoking cronies. Why is it we never go anywhere together or spend any time alone?”

  Feeling drained and not up to this, he clicked off the razor and turned to her. “Did you or did you not want me to run for vice president?” he asked, knowing the answer as well as she.

  Her eyes blazed at him, but she didn’t answer.

  “Well, it doesn’t come without a price, and the price is one we both pay. I attend meeting after meeting. You have to go to dinners or whatever alone sometimes. That’s the way it is. Get used to it.”

  “I’ve been used to it, and I’m damn tired of it.” The pain of rejection, which was how she viewed his constant absences, flooded her being.

  Adam was fresh out of patience. “You want to leave, there’s the door.” He turned the razor back on and continued shaving. Right now, tired as he was, he didn’t much care which way she decided.

  Diane swallowed, then turned away, getting herself quickly under control. Lord knew she’d had enough practice hiding her feelings. It would be stupid, at this most important time of her life so far, to walk out and let some other woman enjoy the fruits of her labor. So she put on a smile that cost her dearly. “I’m sorry, sugar. It’s just that I miss seeing you.” She found she meant it, and that hurt most of all, because she knew he didn’t miss her.

  Her words were as false as her smile, Adam thought. Finished, he ran a basin of water watching her in the mirror. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that it wasn’t Diane’s fault he didn’t love her. “We all have to do things in life we don’t especially want to do. Try to bear up.”

  “I will.” She pressed her lips to his bare shoulder and felt him stiffen. He couldn’t even pretend anymore, she thought sadly. She’d always known theirs wasn’t the love match of the century, but at least in the beginning there’d been affection, occasional sex, which had been often enough to suit her, and mutual respect. Now there seemed so little left.

  She walked out before she was totally humiliated. In the living room of the suite, she poured herself a generous bourbon and dribbled in a little branch water, then lit a cigarette with trembling hands. Sitting down, she examined her feelings.

  Being totally honest with herself, she was stunned at what she finally acknowledged. She hadn’t meant to let this happen, had felt extremely confident that it never would; but when hurt feelings replaced anger, there was only one conclusion. She loved him.

  Good God Almighty! She rubbed her forehead, took a long swallow of her drink, then drew smoke deeply into her lungs. Wouldn’t Adam be shocked to hell and back if he knew. He must never find out. Her mind struggled to salvage her pride. Maybe he cared a little, in his own way.

  Both Barry and Harlan had called recently to tell her that Adam was always exactly where he said he was, surrounded by aides, politicians, public figures, but no women who weren’t on Diane’s approved list. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he was just tired, overworked, but still hers.

  However, there was the problem of sex. Adam was a virile man in the prime of life. Just what was he doing for sex these days since he wasn’t playing around? He certainly wasn’t getting it from her often enough to matter. Perhaps, appearances to the contrary, he had as little interest in sex as she did. Or maybe he channeled all his energy into his work, since he was at the job twelve and fifteen hours a day and was too tired to mess around. She hadn’t thought a man would run out of steam by forty-five, but she could be wrong.

  Diane took another sip of her drink, willing her mind to focus on the positive. She couldn’t throw in the towel, not after years of hoping, working, planning. She forced herself to think of more pleasant things, like the convention floor bedecked with red, white, and blue streamers, the netted balloons caught at the ceiling, just waiting to be released tonight after the votes were counted. In her mind’s eye she pictured the scene.

  Palmer and Adam would step up to the raised podium. Then they’d signal for their wives to join them. Diane and Shirley Ames would stand arm in arm with their mates and acknowledge the clamor of acceptance from the hundreds of delegates while millions watched on television. They would be the golden four, the leaders of the free world.

  Shirley Ames was a grandmotherly type, sixty years old, white-haired and a bit frumpy, so the nation’s attention would naturally turn to Diane McKenzie. Her hairdo and clothes style would be copied by thousands, and she’d appear on the cover of every magazine of importance in the country. She’d be sought after, invited everywhere, respected and admired. At last.

  Closing her eyes, Diane prayed that reality would follow the game plan.

  Adam’s facial muscles hurt from smiling as he walked briskly down the hotel hallway, the key to his brother’s room in his hand. He’d asked Fitz to give it to him not only because he needed a half hour of alone time before Palmer’s meeting, but because he wanted to make a phone call in private.

  Shortly after his nomination for the vice presidency had been confirmed, one of the reporters covering the convention for the San Diego Union had told him that Joseph Townsend had died three days ago. It was only right that he call the family and offer his sympathies.

  All right, he told himself as he entered Fitz’s room, he was seizing an opportunity to talk with Liz. A man who lied to himself was a fool, Adam thought, loosening his tie and slouching down on the sofa. Surely she’d talk with him now, since he was calling about her father’s death. Surely she’d get past her no-involvement resolution under these circumstances.

  He picked up the phone and dialed California.

  She answered on the third ring, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to deal with her mother. “Liz, it’s Adam. I just heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”

  In the Townsend house in the family room, curled up in a corner of the deep leather couch, Liz felt her heart rate pick up. “Thank you, but it was for the best. He was alive, but he wasn’t really living these last months.”

  “I can only imagine how difficult that’s been on all of you. How’s your mother handling things?”

  Liz glanced over at Katherine, apparently dozing on the chair near the television, where they’d just finished watching the Democratic convention. She kept her voice soft. “She’s doing fine, but then she’s had three months to do her grieving.”

  He hadn’t had even three minutes to prepare for his father’s death. “It’s never easy, either way.”

  “No. I just watched you on television.” Hand in hand with Diane, beaming in a too tight red dress. “Congratulations, Mr. Vice President.” It was what he’d always wanted and certainly what Diane wanted. Liz felt a wave of loneliness wash over her, so vulnerable was she in her need for this man who was now forever lost to her.

  “Thanks but we have to get elected yet. The Republicans have the advantage of an incumbent.”

  “One who’s slipped in the polls. You’ll beat him, I’m sure.”

  He paused, stretching out his legs, wrestling with his conscience. “Would it be terrible if I told you I miss you, that I wish we were together?”

  Liz closed her eyes. “Please don’t make this any harder.”

  He sighed, knowing defeat once more. “I understand. Do you think it’ll always be like this, the two of us on opposite coasts, wanting to be together, yet unable to connect?”

  “Probably.” She was feeling lonely. It was time to end the
call. “Good-bye, Adam. Thanks for the condolences and good luck.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, determined to find a way.

  No, you won’t, Liz thought, hanging up. If she saw him again, especially alone and up close, she’d never be able to keep from reaching out.

  CHAPTER 16

  The house was so quiet. Liz wandered the rooms of her home in Pacific Beach, opening windows to let in the ocean breezes and the warm summer sunshine. Even the chirping of the birds outside didn’t do much to disturb the unusual silence.

  Sara had left just hours ago with Justine and Wayne Parker to Ireland.

  In the end, Liz hadn’t been able to deny her daughter the exciting trip, despite hating to let her leave. Sara had lost her father and her grandfather over the last eight months, watching over both through long, suffering illnesses. She needed diversion, laughter, fun. She needed to feel alive after being around so much death.

  It was the first week of August, and they’d returned from the Townsend house only six days ago, days filled with shopping and packing and excitement. After the dreary death watch, getting Sara ready for her trip had been like a breath of fresh air. Now, the long, lonely days stretched before Liz, and she wondered how she’d fill them.

  Climbing the stairs, she decided she’d go to her studio and try to lose herself in her work. She’d sculpted very little over the past few weeks. As she walked past Sara’s room, she tried not to think about the hundreds of miles that would soon separate her from her baby. She must learn to let go, Liz chided herself. It was just that the timing of this trip was rotten.

  She needed Sara right now, needed the comfort of just looking at her lovely daughter, recently turned a confident sixteen. Already she missed hearing that sunny laugh, the warm conversations they shared. She even missed the music Sara played at ear-bursting volume. In her studio Liz turned on the radio, and immediately Billy Rae Cyrus, one of Sara’s favorites, blared forth. She smiled, feeling better.