Quiet Angel (30 page)

*

They stayed tangled
up all night, barely sleeping. When the morning came, she flashed a coy smile. “You’re still here?”

“You, too?” He ran a hand down the curve of her hips. “Couldn’t think of a more beautiful way to start my day.”

She stretched out her naked body. “We finally got it right.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay in bed all day.”

“Then stay,” Layla said, hooking a leg around his hip.

“I can’t. I have lots to do still back at the office—still playing catch-up. And I need to get things in good shape before the honeymoon.”

“Speaking of, where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Can I get a hint?”

“No.”

“How long will we be gone?”

“A month.”

Her eyes popped. “A
month
?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No. I mean, I’ve just never heard of a honeymoon lasting a month!”

“We’re doing things a little different. Our whole relationship has been a little different, hasn’t it?”

“I guess it has.”

“And I want you to myself for a little while.”

“I’d like that. No reporters, no newspapers,” she said. “Have you decided anything?”

He swallowed hard, the things Governor Clements found out swimming in his mind. “Do you think I should run?”

“It’s not up to me,” she said. “If you think you can help people, maybe you should?”

“I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“So is that a
no
?”

“Not yet. I just hate what they’re doing to you. Hopefully it dies down soon.”

“It’s hard,” she said. “But I’m not going to let them control my life. They can dig around if they want, but they’re not going to control me. I’ve never let anyone control my life—despite everything I’ve been through.” Layla sat up and kissed him gently. “How about I fly back with you this morning? I could use a day off. I’ve got everyone working, and Dash will be there helping Poppy, so I can play hooky.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sneak away. I’m pretty busy today.”

“Hire me for the day!”

“For what position?”

“I’m flexible for
all
positions.”

“Can I have my way with you in-between meetings?”

“What about during them? I’ll wear a dress for easy access.”

“You’re hired.”

The wedding was
a week away. But Layla had another event to deal with—some business-political alliance reception that Gage was going to. Reporters would be there. Cameras would be there. It was like going into the lion’s den. She didn’t want to go. But it’d raise questions if she didn’t. It might even be “breaking news.” So she decided it was best to show up. After all, the reception was in a nice place—a historic mansion in the Low Country nestled around a salt marsh and towering oak trees, complete with stables and a riding corral.

Gage stopped on a path to the mansion and pulled her into a little kiss. “Mostly a bunch of snobs and assholes here, but I promise everything will be fine.”

“Do I look OK?” Layla asked, smoothing the bottom of her blue and white sundress.

“It depends. Do you have on panties?”

“Of course.”

“Well, if I run and get elected, I’m going to write something in the Constitution about going commando. It should be a state holiday.”

He took her hand and led her inside. He seemed to know everyone—federal and state politicians, executives across every industry. This was the elite of the elite, standing in little circles with glasses of wine, congratulating each other.

Layla didn’t know a soul. She tried to make small talk but didn’t have much to say about the rising cost of jet fuel and the latest economic regulations. And she sensed everyone was sizing her up, judging her, probably waiting for the next shoe to drop on the evening news.

When a sleek political type suggested a walk to the stables, she saw her exit. She planted a kiss on Gage’s cheek and excused herself to get a drink. She found a bar down by the water in the backyard.

“What can I get for you?” a familiar voice asked.

Layla smiled. “You’re the bartender?”

“They don’t put in enough whiskey, so I make my own.” Governor Clements tossed a piece of ice in his glass, and Layla got some sweet tea. “Have you been down to the water yet?” Layla shook her head. “Let me show you.” She took her glass and followed along a wooden deck to a porch swing hanging from an oak tree. “I’m sorry about what the press is doing. I told you to expect it, though.”

“They seem to know everything about me,” she said and sat down.

Governor Clements knew that wasn’t true—so did Layla—but he wasn’t about to say so. “You have my sympathy.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

“So true. You’re a strong independent woman. Gage tells me how hard you worked in college, building the store, all the volunteer work. Your work with Hope Cottage is inspiring. You’re good for Gage.”

“I feel like this is leading somewhere.”

Governor Clements laughed. “You’re reading
me
now? Well, you’re absolutely right. I’m leading somewhere. I usually do have a purpose when I talk. The fact of the matter is, Layla, Georgia needs Gage to run.”

“I haven’t told him not to.”

“I’m hoping you can do more than that. I want you to convince him
to
run because he’s wavering.”

“Because he thinks I can’t handle the coverage?”

He shook his head. “He’s wavering because he thinks
he
won’t be able to handle it if the coverage gets any worse.”

“You think it might get
worse
?”

“Anything’s possible.” He took a drink. “I mean, you and I talked some before. There’s more that could come out, isn’t there?”

Layla wasn’t in the mood to play games. “It seems we both know there is. Just be honest with me.”

“Since we’re being honest, it’s probably best you talk to Gage about this.”

Her heart pounded. “You talked to Gage about this?”

“Yes, and you should, too,” he said. “And when you do, convince him he can handle whatever may come.” Governor Clements patted her shoulder before walking off. “I know you’ll be a good politician’s wife.”

Her hands shaking, Layla gripped her glass like her life depended on it and set off towards the stables, a strong smell of horse manure leading the way. It seemed fitting. She made her way past a collection of flies and found Gage at the far end standing next to a man and a horse. She could tell Gage didn’t care about what the man was saying. He was just smiling and playing along. Gage would be a great politician. He flashed her a smile that she didn’t return. He waved her to come over, but she shook her head. There was horse manure lining the path. She was going through enough shit. She wasn’t going to walk through more.
He can walk back through the crap to me.

Gage excused himself and made his way to her. “You need more sunscreen. I don’t want you to burn.”

“Maybe your godfather can get it for me,” she said. “We just had a very interesting talk. I always learn a lot from our little chats. Stuff you don’t see fit to tell me. You’ve been talking to him about me behind my back.”

“Yeah, I talked to him about the press conference. Is that OK?”

“You’ve talked to him
way
more
than that,” she snapped. “What exactly does he know about me? Did you tell him things about me?”

“Of course not. Now’s not the place for this, Layla. At least give me the chance to explain before you get so worked up.”

“
Worked up
? I’m not worked up. I’m down right ticked off!” Gage moved to speak, but she held up a finger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t see the point. He’s trying to help keep things hidden, buried.”

“Right. He’s been such a great help so far.”

“Oh, come on!” Gage said, his Southern accent dripping.

She looked away. “I’m ready to leave.”

*

Layla started back
up before the limo made it out of the driveway. “I hate secrets. I lived with one for too long. They destroy. You can’t keep secrets from me.”

“I don’t keep secrets from you,” Gage said. “But I’m not going to burden you with details about my work, my career, or. . . .”

“You aren’t single anymore. We’re getting married next weekend. I’m not asking for secret Navy codes or the hidden agenda of the FAA. This affects me, too. This is about me. This has everything to do with me.”

“I’m just trying to protect you. Please trust me to handle it.”

“That’s not good enough. Why are you keeping things from me? You think I’ll run?”

“No. . . .” Gage stopped himself. “Well, it’s crossed my mind.”

She looked in his eyes.
Finally an honest answer.
“You know what makes me want to run? Secrets. They scare me more than the press ever could.”

He looked away. “My godfather leaked that first story about our engagement and me thinking about running for governor.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He knew it would create a buzz. He controlled the stories so they were romantic. He knew it would up public opinion and hoped it would give me a little push to run. He’s a manipulative old goat.”

“And now he’s digging into my past?”

Gage nodded. “I’m sorry he’s doing that.”

“Don’t apologize for
him
.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry all this impacts you. It burns me up.”

“That’s better.”

“It’s just that he found out everything so easily, Angel. It scares me. He’s trying to bury things. It won’t take long for the press, opponents, to find out everything. I hate I can’t totally protect you.”

“If the press digs up more things,” she said, “I can handle it.”

He felt her tremble a little. “I don’t know what to do. There’s so much pressure from all sides. I can’t seem to figure out what the right decision is.”

“Maybe you should fly on it?”

Gage chuckled. “Don’t you mean pray on it?”

“Same thing for you.”

*

Over the next
few days, the reports came hard and fast. There was new information about Layla’s whereabouts the summer she ran away. It was 12 years ago. She went to her grandmother’s house on St. Simons Island. Shockingly, Gage was there, too. His family spent time on the island every summer.

He and Layla hung out together. The exact details of the relationship were not fully known, though the press was working hard to figure it all out, to find anyone who may remember them from that summer. But it was a long time ago, and no one seemed to remember anything about two teenagers.

There were many questions that needed answers: whether Gage knew Layla was a runaway that summer, and what made Layla end up in a homeless shelter in Maryland after leaving the island. One theory was that Gage got her pregnant. Layla couldn’t tell her parents—she’d already run from them—so she followed Gage to Maryland.

As a college student with no money, he couldn’t afford to care for her. So she stayed in a shelter. He should’ve done more for her. She probably got a back-alley abortion. There were reports she checked into a Maryland hospital, probably to clean up the mess. Or maybe she gave up the child for adoption. Gage probably covered it up. None of this was good for a future politician.