Broken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Second Season (18 page)

W
e both got back
into the car and I sat behind the steering wheel for a long moment, not saying anything. I almost wanted him to be the first one to speak—to tell me what the point was in showing me this. Yes, I understood that he couldn’t live with himself for what he had done to Polly when she and I were in high school. We all make mistakes, and while his was big—I mean, knocking up a sixteen-year-old is pretty bad—it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Those twins weren’t his. Polly made some bad choices after she and Brandon had met, but why did he feel so responsible?

As soon as I began to drive, I saw him turn to face me from the corner of my eye. “Are you going to say something?”

I stared ahead at the road, unsure of what I could say that wouldn’t come out sounding like the spoiled brat I already felt like. “You aren’t responsible for any of that.” I motioned behind me with my head. “None of what has happened to her is your fault.”

He turned away to look out the window. “It is, Jen. There are things you don’t understand…”

“I think I understand more than you give me credit for. I know you didn’t cause that … whatever it is she’s become. She was on the road to becoming that person long before you ever knew her.”

“She was a little girl. I took advantage of her.”

I shook my head, trying to keep my focus on the road and trying to ignore the growing sense of anger that was welling deep inside of me.
Polly
had taken advantage of
him
. Not the other way around. Why couldn’t he see that? “I knew her, Brandon. She wasn’t a little girl. She lied to you, and that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“I thought she was her sister…”

“Her sister was a bitch. She teased me for years about my father, what a man-whore he was, and suggested disgusting things about incest. Even though everyone knew her father…” I stopped. He already knew about the Edwards family, and I didn’t need to remind him. The entire story made me sick to my stomach, thinking that if he hadn’t gotten to Polly first, he might have gotten to me. Tried to take my family down by seducing
me
. I looked over at him, a thought flashing through my mind.
Has he known who I am all along?

“It doesn’t matter, Jen. The choices she’s made … she made them because of what I did to her. What happened to her.”

I lifted an eyebrow and turned to him, but he was still turned to the window, unable to see me. “Really? Are you sure that kid was even yours?”

He turned back to me then, not saying a word.

“Because I seem to remember Polly Edwards being an alcoholic before the end of her sophomore year. There were only, I don’t know, maybe forty of us in our school, and she’d slept with every guy there. She’d made her way through the prep academy down the road, too. I’m thinking that even if she told you that you were her first…” I turned to face him for a moment, meeting his gaze. “You weren’t. Not even close. You were just older and better-looking than the other guys she’d slept with.”

I glanced over and could see he was trying to hide a grin, the way he sucked on the edge of his bottom lip when he didn’t want me to see it. “It’s the truth, Brandon. There’s no way you were her first. And whatever it was she told you…”

The smile fell. “She told me enough to ruin him. And I didn’t even hesitate, Jen.”

I shook my head. “The man was going down, Brandon, and we both know it. Whether you helped to speed it up or not, his career was already over. He was so brazen about what he was doing—everyone knew it. Even the kids. The fact that he let it go on so long, was so up front about it…” I shook my head again and glanced at him. “Not your fault.”

“He killed himself, Jen. His family was destroyed…”

“And you’re positive that was because of you? Absolutely sure that wouldn’t have happened anyway?” I glanced at him again before making another turn. I knew exactly where I was going to take Brandon today. He wanted me to see his fears—see his demons head on, and now I was going to make him see mine.

“Does it matter? I had to make it right…”

“It is
not
your responsibility to fix everything. Their family was fucked up beyond belief before I even met them, and I’ve known Polly since I was in middle school. Hell, they were screwed up before either of us was
born
. I knew she started drinking, doing drugs…” I shook my head. “All of that happened long before you knew her. She was the biggest slut in Virginia before we were even in high school. So, yes, it matters. And there was nothing for you to make right, Brandon. Their family was fucked up long before you came along.”

“I don’t think you understand.”

I lifted an eyebrow and turned to meet his gaze before turning back to the road. We were almost there—to where I was taking us, and damn it, I was going to make him squirm just as much as he had made me squirm on the couch in that woman’s house. “Really? Because I think
you
don’t understand, Brandon. She was already headed down this road. She says she fell in with the wrong crowd after they moved back here, but what she doesn’t tell you is that she probably went looking for them.
She
is the wrong crowd.
She
is the one who made bad choices. It doesn’t surprise me that she lied to you and told you she was Darlene. You make a girl wet just looking in her direction—I can’t imagine that was any different seven years ago.”

“Jen, I need to tell you about that time. About when I went there. It wasn’t Congressman Edwards I wanted to take down. I wasn’t stupid—I saw his downfall coming. You’re right about that. But what you don’t know…”

I interrupted. “Is that you came there looking for me?” I wish it even surprised me. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t been thinking it all along—that he had known who I was since the day we first met. I just wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.

I pulled up to the parking attendant and handed him a bill from my wallet. I looked around the exterior of the convention center—I remembered there was a VIP entrance somewhere, and I knew I might as well park nearest to it if I could. I found the entrance and pulled into a stall, turning off the engine. I turned to look at Brandon. “So if you had knocked me up instead… If you had knocked up seventeen-year-old Jenna—if you had ruined my life instead of hers, then what? You’d feel better about yourself now? You wouldn’t feel like you had to support two children who aren’t even yours?”

“You were eighteen. You would have been legal, capable of making your own decisions…”

“Wrong. I didn’t turn eighteen until after I graduated. And if you were wrong about that, can’t you admit to yourself that you might, just
might
, be wrong about Polly?”

“I wasn’t wrong.”

“Well, if you thought I was eighteen and still in high school, you
were
wrong. I was there for my birthday party that year, right before I went to Georgetown. My dad bought me a car…”

He shook his head. “I’ve been so careful. I
know
you were eighteen…”

“And you were wrong about how old I was, wrong about mistaking Polly for Darlene. Wrong, Brandon. You were wrong. It isn’t impossible for you to be wrong, to make mistakes. It happens to everyone, even to you. You screwed up. I forgive you, but Jesus fucking Christ, you need to forgive yourself. Stop punishing yourself for it. It happened. It’s over. You might or might not have fathered a child with her—a child who
wasn’t born
. But you didn’t make her poor choices for her, and you damned well didn’t have anything to do with who she is today.” I shook my head. “But you have to stop using her. As your minion in the mail room. I don’t think…”

“She told you about that?” I saw his cheeks flush red. I don’t think I had ever seen Brandon embarrassed before, but he was definitely feeling it now.

“Yes, she told me. And now I understand why I didn’t receive an invitation to the convention. Where my
father
is the keynote speaker in a few minutes. You wouldn’t know anything about that, though, right?” I opened the car door and got out, slamming it behind me. My hands balled into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms.

He exited the passenger side and slammed his own door. “We can’t go in there, Jen. It isn’t safe in there.”

“I’ll be fine. Have you seen the security at these things?” I glanced over my shoulder at the entrance. “It’s insane.”

“It isn’t safe. And I don’t mean for you.”

I
checked my phone
. A normal family would have called their daughter to tell her that they were going to be less than a hundred miles away. But not mine. Not even a single message. I’m sure their thinking was that I had received my invitation, so I didn’t need something as inane as a phone call from my mother or father to be sure I was there. I suppose they didn’t realize I had someone who “cared” enough about me to keep me away from these things, even though I hadn’t missed one in the fourteen or so years that my father had been a senator.

I had been so preoccupied, so wrapped up in what had happened in the last six weeks that I didn’t even think about the convention going on this weekend. That
this
had been why there were no hotel rooms available in town. If my “friend” here wasn’t so worried about protecting me—or maybe he was just protecting himself—I would have known what was going on this weekend, and I still might have chosen not to come to this convention for the first time in my life.

There was just something about this that made me want to go and see it firsthand. If Brandon didn’t want me here, I wanted to rebel and do it anyway. If he didn’t feel safe, he could wait for me in the car. Or he could drive himself home and I’d take the bus back to San Francisco that night. I didn’t even care at that point. What I wanted—really wanted—was for him to come face my parents with me. If he had felt the need to make me see what had happened to Polly up close and personal, it was the least he could do for me. He could stand next to me while I faced
my
fears, my mistakes and misgivings. Maybe it was immature, maybe it was downright stupid—but I wanted him to know what it was like for me to talk to my mother. To my father. I wanted him to see it first-hand, exactly how they treated their precious little girl, and there was never going to be a better opportunity than this one.

I checked myself in, and sure enough, my name was there on the list, complete with an open invitation for a guest. Brandon was hesitant—so hesitant to come in with me, I almost had to drag him inside by the arm. The time for my father’s keynote speech was quickly approaching, and I knew what the ramifications would be if I was even a second late for it—at least if I hoped to sit next to Marian.

We climbed to the balcony, to the reserved seating area for the VIPs. I saw my mother sitting in the front row, and my heart skipped a few beats. I hadn’t seen her since the whole incident—since she had gone out of her way to “prove” to the world that I wasn’t her daughter.

Brandon stood frozen at the top of the stairs, looking at someone in the audience. I glanced quickly over to where he was looking and didn’t see anything—or anyone—out of the ordinary. He was probably as nervous to meet my mother as I was to see her.

I calmed the nauseated feeling in my stomach by taking a deep breath. I pulled on his arm so that we could make our way down the stairs to where she was sitting. He didn’t move, and I finally let go, making my way down the stairs on my own.

I cleared my throat and sat down next to her. It felt like there were bats in my stomach—not the sweet butterflies I felt dancing when I was nervous around Brandon. No, these were more like giant creatures trying to force their way out.

“It’s about time, Jenna Marie. You should have been here an hour ago.”

Brandon finally took the seat next to mine and pulled my hand in his. It calmed the queasiness in my stomach, at least.

“And what is that you’re wearing? You have the audacity to show up here dressed like
that?
When you know the cameras will be on us the entire time?

She wasn’t wrong. I had noticed the popping of flash bulbs since I’d walked in the door—I was just trying hard to ignore it. I felt Brandon give my hand a squeeze.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, she was barking in my ear again. “What is wrong with your hair? You didn’t have it done today, did you?” She shook her head. “You think you can show up here, dressed in some cheap outfit with your hair a mess and expect to sit next to
me?
You think…”

“It’s good to see you, Mother.” I let out the breath I had been holding and looked over at Brandon. “Mother, this is Brandon Richardson. Brandon, this is…”

Before I could get her name out, he was standing up, his hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Davis.”

Her lip curled into a sneer. “Mrs.
Hennessey
-Davis.” She raised her hand to tuck a hair behind her ear before turning back to me, refusing to shake his hand. “You have the audacity to bring someone like
that
to sit anywhere near me? I swear to God, Jenna, if you had even a drop of Hennessey blood in you, you wouldn’t be anywhere near someone like
that
. And to think you brought him to the most important night of your father’s career…”

I felt my cheeks burn under the weight of her words. My ribs squeezed in my chest. “How have you been, Mother? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. How was Maine?” I plastered the phony smile to my face, the same one she had made famous so long ago.

“You have some nerve, young lady. Some nerve to bring the spawn of Lance Richardson anywhere near me. The fact that you are so insensitive, so clueless that you would even
consider
that I would allow you to bring …
that…”
She motioned toward Brandon with her head. “…anywhere near me. You know better. You were brought up better than this. I will never forgive you for embarrassing me like this…”

I tuned her voice out, the words blurring into the rest of the clamor of the crowd as they waited for my father to take the stage. I leaned over to whisper into Brandon’s ear. “Have you heard enough?”

He leaned down to whisper back into my ear. “You didn’t have to do this.”

The phony smile fell from my face. Maybe I hadn’t had to do this, but I wanted him to see it. I wanted him to know what it was that they did to me. What it was I’d had to live with—and how I knew that they would never approve of him. I wasn’t sure how my mother knew his father, and it didn’t really matter. Just knowing that neither of my parents would ever allow him to be in my life was what I needed for him to see. Brandon didn’t know about the threats my father had made to me when I was in Virginia, waiting at home for news about whether I needed to give my kidney to him. All he knew was his own life, his own problems, his own mistakes and regrets. He had no knowledge at all of mine.

I stood up, pulling on his hand for him to join me. I turned back to my mother, who was still ranting about the nerve I had to be alive. “It was nice seeing you, Mother.”

“You inherited your manners from the trollop your father impregnated. You certainly didn’t inherit them from him.
Your father
wouldn’t behave like this.
Your father…
”

Brandon interrupted this time. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Hennessey-Davis. I believe we’ll be viewing the speech from another location.”

The sneer on her face deepened. “The
nerve
you have to even speak to me.” She turned her attention back to me. “Jenna Marie, your father will hear about this little stunt. Don’t think for a second…”

My heart raced in my chest and I took a deep breath. “I’ve heard enough, Mother. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime.” I think my voice was a lot calmer than I felt, but it seemed like Brandon’s presence alone gave me the courage to say what I had needed to say my entire life.

We walked away. He took my hand and led me up the staircase, pausing only briefly to look back in the direction he had been looking when we first arrived.

I wasn’t proud of the power my parents still had in my life. I definitely wasn’t proud that the little rant-fest that my mother had just gone on wasn’t even close to the worst I had endured in my twenty-four years. It was just something I needed him to know. Something he needed to see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears. I could explain it to people until I was blue in the face, but no one ever really believed the depths of what it was like to live with that kind of treatment.

We walked into the hallway behind the VIP seating area, where there were now hardly any people milling about, most having taken their seats for the big event. My father’s speech was about to start, and I knew I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t stay to listen. I had to at least hear whatever it was he was going to say that night—I knew he was planning for this speech to be his comeback, his public apology for what he had done.

We walked down the hallway to another opening into the auditorium. Before we walked through, Brandon spun me to face him. He took my other hand into his and brought it to his lips. “Is that an everyday thing?” He motioned down the hallway with his head. “That stuff she said? An everyday occurrence? Or was that for my benefit?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “She wasn’t home every day.”

He dropped my hands and his arms circled my waist, pulling me into him. “You never have to hear that again. She isn’t your mother, and you don’t need to put up with that.” He kissed my temple. “We need to get that voice out of your head. Her voice.”

I raised my arms to circle his waist, too. I pressed my cheek to his chest, wishing he would never let me go.

He rested his chin on top of my head and held me like that until we heard the person introducing my father a few moments later. He kissed the top of my head, then pulled my hand into his to lead me onto the floor of the auditorium, where all the non-VIPs were standing.

These were people who worked for campaigns, worked for the politicians or volunteered for them. The applause and shouting during my father’s introduction shocked me. Not that it was really shouting—whooping and celebratory screaming were better words to describe what was going on. I had completely misread how the public had reacted to his indiscretions, at least the people in his own political party. There was no animosity here. No outrage at what he had done, or how he had hurt his family. These people
loved
him, and I could see then that his political career was far from over.

We stood in the doorway of the auditorium, not really able to see anything, but the loudspeaker allowed us to hear every word of the speech.

After the cheering abated, I recognized my father’s voice. “Friends, on the eve of my seventieth birthday…”

I winced. It
was
the day before his birthday, and I hadn’t remembered. If there was one rule I had known my entire life, it was that you
never
forget a birthday. It was an unforgivable act in the Davis household.

“…I am reminded of what it is I love about this country. How the roots of our country are founded on our traditions and beliefs. How one’s ability to forgive has become the yardstick by which our faith is measured.”

I cringed at that. I wasn’t sure who had written this speech, but it was over-the-top obvious what it was about. My dad got caught with his pants down—literally—and now he wanted the American public to forgive him. He probably just should have said that.

“I have never been a man to shirk responsibility for his actions. I know I have made a multitude of mistakes. And friends, I am thankful for each and every one of you for your ability to forgive…”

It made me nauseous. He wasn’t even asking for forgiveness. He was telling everyone to give it to him. And as far as I could remember, he still hadn’t even asked
me.
It made me sick, and it made me understand why people didn’t trust politicians as far as they could throw them. Because
this
—this was exactly the kind of thing that would make people
not
trust politicians if they really knew what was going on. If they knew what my father was really like, the threats he made and the things he did to get to where he wanted to go—no one would be cheering right now. No one would trust him. Everyone would feel the same way I felt about him at that moment. Sick.

I shouldn’t have taken Brandon there. I should have just driven him back to San Francisco, let him go back to the girls who were probably still waiting for him in his apartment. I took his hand and began to walk toward the exit, Davis or Hennessey or polite society manners be damned.

I felt Brandon’s arms slide around my waist and I stopped, closing my eyes for a moment to just enjoy feeling him hold me like that one more time.

I felt him breathe into my hair, placing a kiss just above my ear before he whispered into it, “Let’s go find a hotel room. A real one this time.”