Leigh (24 page)

So she gave him the key from her purse, and he told her he’d call the bellman to go out and bring up her overnight bag from
her car in the hotel lot. That even an unknown bellhop would realize that she’d spent the night with Trent made her cringe.
Then he left her, and she scrambled into the bathroom.

Later, fully dressed but with her long hair still wet from the shower, Leigh sipped her first cup of hot coffee. It did wonders
for her slight headache. She looked over the rim of her cup at Trent and wondered how to begin to tell him of her regret over
her lapse of judgment last night. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did this type of thing.

“I have to go back to Annapolis today, Leigh. I have a case coming up soon, and I have to meet with my staff.”

Leigh took in a deep breath. “We need to discuss—”

“Believe me,” he cut in, “I wouldn’t go if I had any choice. And I have to attend my son’s football game at 6:30 today.”

The word “son” startled her. “Son? You didn’t tell me you’d been married.”

He gave her an odd look. “Everyone knows I’m married.”

It was like a clawhammer to her head. She gaped at him.

“Didn’t you recognize me?” He lifted one brow quizzi
cally. “My wife’s father is the governor of Maryland. How could you not know that?”

His words cut her in two. She could barely draw breath. She gaped at him. Finally, she managed to say, “But you said you’d
never known love.” Was Trent teasing her or playing an awful joke?

He snorted. “There’s no love between my wife and me. It is purely a marriage of convenience, an open marriage for both of
us. She wanted a husband who was able to impress her father, and I wanted his political connections. I’m building a reputation
for myself, and when her father eventually retires, I’ll run for his office.”

Leigh was too stunned to speak. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She realized then that she’d taken Trent at face
value, never asking other women about him. She’d kept her distance from others at the town meetings and had never gone back
to the McGovern headquarters in Washington or Maryland. Her grief had cut her off from the regular flow of getting to know
people. She’d only talked to that girl Nancy and the man across from her.

He reached over and took her hand. “We can play this any way you want. I plan that our affair will last as long as you can
put up with me. In fact, forever if you wish. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and I’ve never felt anything for a woman like
what I feel for you. I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love. But I think this is the real thing this time.”

Leigh felt as if he were speaking a foreign language. This Trent was nothing like the Trent she’d known over the past few
months. Which one was real—the caring, more mature man who’d been so understanding, or this cold stranger who spoke of a wife,
a son, and political ambition?

He paused to sip his coffee. “Why don’t you come to Annapolis with me today and look for an apartment? I think
you’ll find me very generous. Or—” He gave her a roguish grin. “—are you one of those liberated women who doesn’t want a man
to provide for her?”

That Trent would even say the words to her appalled her. Her nerves felt as if someone had set fire to them. She wanted to
lie down on the floor and writhe with the agony, the shame.
This can’t be happening. I can’t have really done this. Oh, dear God, no. “
I didn’t know you were married,” she said at last, her throat as dry as sand.

“Leigh, I really care for you, more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. And I’ve wanted you and waited longer for you than any
other woman. But I am married. I can’t divorce her. I’ve put too many years into the marriage, and it’s part and parcel with
my political ambitions. We have a son, too. This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

Yes, this is going to he a problem.
She stared at him, feeling as if he had just yanked out her insides.
Dear God, I’ve been such a fool

T
oo shocked to react. Too horrified at her own foolishness. Too crushed by his assumption that she would knowingly,
willingly
enter into an affair with a married man. How Leigh had survived the rest of the minutes till Trent left her, she didn’t know.
Finally, after a fast kiss on her forehead and a reminder for her to call him at his private office number so they could make
plans for their future, he departed.

Alone at last, she stood in the center of the luxurious suite and stared around. “What do I do now?” she asked the empty,
mocking room. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“
Everyone knows I’m married. You must have recognized me. My wife’s the governor’s daughter.
”

But she’d lived in San Francisco and before that in New York City attending college. And before that, she’d lived near Arlington,
Virginia. She hadn’t known who the governor of Maryland was or who was married to his daughter. And she hadn’t become chummy
with any of the other McGovern campaigners except Nancy Hollister, who was from New York and wouldn’t have known, either.
Leigh had kept to her
self, and only Trent had pursued her. And now she knew why—he’d needed a new mistress.

Her knees suddenly weakened, and she staggered to the amber sofa. Staring at the smudged glasses left on the coffee table
from last night, she moaned, feeling almost physically ill. How had she sunk this low? Was it only that she never drank and
the rum had weakened her resistance? Her conscience refused to allow this excuse. She’d drunk the alcohol of her own free
will. She’d consented to come to Trent’s room alone. She’d let him make love to her, knowing no vows had been spoken between
them.

“I have no one to blame but myself.”

What kind of man married for political connections and then had affairs? It was hard to reconcile this kind of coldblooded
behavior with the warm and caring man whom she’d spent hours with over the past few months.
I must be a very poor judge of character.
Or had he been busy seducing her and she hadn’t even realized it? Was she that naïve? Evidently she was.

Trent’s charming words played in her mind: “
I’ve never felt anything for a woman like what I feel for you. I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love. “
Was that what men said to their mistresses? Did they try to dress up the relationship as a “love” affair so that the woman
didn’t feel the full weight of the guilt of committing adultery?

That’s what I did. I committed adultery.
She recalled memorizing the Ten Commandments as a little girl in Sunday school. She remembered wondering why she’d had to
because—
of course
—she’d never break any of those commandments. Without meaning to, she moaned again. She couldn’t ever remember moaning aloud
in her life, not even when she’d lost Dane. But each one felt wrenched from deep inside her.
What do I do now? How can I ever live this down? Oh, God, forgive me. Forgive me.

Minutes passed, and finally Leigh pulled herself together and left the hotel room. Downstairs, still wobbly, she saw a bank
of public telephones off to one side of the lobby. It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t driven home to Ivy Manor last
night or even called. Her grandmother might be worried. She got change for a couple of dollars from the desk clerk and went
to the end phone, trying for some privacy. She dialed the long-distance number, deposited the requested number of coins, and
heard the call go through. When her grandmother’s sweet voice came over the line, Leigh nearly burst into tears.

“Grandma,” she said, controlling her shaky voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I was up quite late and then stayed
with… a friend here at the hotel.” Pain twisted through her nerves again.
A friend, right.
Now she was lying to her grandmother.

“That’s what we decided had happened, dear. After all, you had taken an overnight bag with you,” Chloe replied as if this
were just an ordinary day, not the day Leigh would regret for the rest of her life. “After McGovern’s defeat, it must have
been a rough night for everyone there.”

Who cares about McGovern? “
Yes.”
This morning was the worst. Oh, Grandma, I didn’t mean this to happen.

“Are you coming home today?”

“I don’t know,” she lied.
No, I can’t come home. If I did, I’d break down and tell you what I’ve done. I can’t face you or anyone else in the family.
No one must ever know what I’ve done. Oh, Grandma, I hate myself.

But if she did not go back to Ivy Manor or her mother’s house, what was she going to do? She had no place of her own to limp
off to and hide from everyone. But suddenly, grasping
for straws, she remembered her conversation with her friend Nancy. Nancy’s parting words came to mind: “
If you’re ever in New York City, give me a call. I’ve got a sleeper sofa.”

“Grandma, I think that I’m going to go up to New York City.” What possible reason could she give for this? Her frantic mind
searched for a reason and came up with, “I might see about starting graduate classes in January. I’ve been at loose ends.
Maybe I should go back to school.”

Her grandmother responded with the usual encouragement and request that Leigh call her when she reached New York City safe
and sound. “Do you want me to call the Love-ladys? I know they’d love to have you stay with them. Or you could stay with Minnie.”

“No.” Leigh’s denial came swift and strong. She couldn’t face anyone she knew well. “I—” She softened her voice. “I’m going
to stay with a friend I met in D.C. in June. She lives in the Village.”

Within seconds, Leigh was able to end the phone call. With almost desperate determination, she dug out Nancy Hollister’s card,
buried in her billfold. She dropped more coins into the slot and dialed her friend’s number. No answer. Leigh hung up and
retrieved the change from the coin drop. She stood there. Should she go to New York? Did she have a choice?

In times of trouble, she’d always run to Ivy Manor and her grandmother’s open arms. Never before had she run
away
from Ivy Manor. But she’d never before broken the seventh commandment.

The drive to New York helped Leigh get hold of her stormy emotions. She couldn’t land on Nancy’s doorstep, burst into tears,
and confess all. She suspected Trent would never tell
anyone about their night together, and certainly she wouldn’t. And Trent would just have to figure out by himself why she
didn’t call him. She had no desire to speak to him again, and there was no way, she decided with dark, bitter humor, she could
leave a message with his secretary like, “Please tell Mr. Kinnard that I’ve decided not to become his mistress.” No, her absence
would have to speak for her.

A heavy feeling weighed her down. She finally identified it as pure guilt, overwhelming regret.

It had been a long time since she’d prayed, but evidently, this event required confession, an act of contrition. She felt
foolish somehow, but at the sight of a church spire, she pulled off the highway and drove up the street. She parked beside
the white-frame church and turned off the motor. She couldn’t go in—if she met someone, what would she possibly say?
I came to confess to committing adultery.

A large sign announced that the church was an historic one, dating from colonial times and with a cemetery beside it. Leigh
got out of the car, pulling up the collar of her coat against the sharp November wind, and wandered around the cemetery, reading
the weathered headstones. If anyone saw her, they’d think she was one of those people who visited old cemeteries to jot down
dates and names of people long gone.

She looked over the gravestones, some leaning with age, some nearly illegible after years of torrents and winds had worn away
their etched messages. One of the most common epitaphs was merely, “Beloved Wife.” None of them read, “Beloved Mistress.”

I was supposed to be Dane’s beloved wife. When I lost him, I allowed my grief to stop me from living. And I ended up easy
prey for a calculating man. But that’s no excuse. I knew better.

She put a hand on a newer marble headstone and bowed
her head. She recalled the biblical tale of David and Bathsheba’s adultery. Now she knew how David must have felt when he’d
finally faced his sin—shattered and ashamed.
God, You know I’m not very religious, but I feel terrible about what happened last night. I have no good excuse except human
stupidity. Please forgive me. I’ll do my best never to be that brainless again. I guess that’s all. Amen.

She wished a dove would fly down from heaven and let her know God had forgiven her. Of course, she knew that was not going
to happen. But her words were the best she could do in the way of a confession. The hymn “Amazing Grace” from Grandpa Roarke’s
funeral came back to mind. She hadn’t believed that he was a wretch in need of salvation, but that was exactly how she felt
right now. How did one stop the overwhelming wave after wave of guilt?

“Hello,” a little woman in white orthopedic shoes hailed her from the churchyard. “Can I help you?”