The Governor's Sons (53 page)

“Miss Willis!” A loud male voice called through the door.
 
She said nothing, but seconds later, the door was kicked in by a large police officer.
 
With him stood a tall man in a suit.
 

The policeman gruffly approached Libby.
 
He grabbed her arm, quickly spinning her around. “You have the right to remain silent.”

Before he could cuff her, she angrily pulled away. “Wait a minute!
 
You have no right to barge in here--”

“Miss Willis,” the man in the suit said, “it’s over.
 
I’m agent Colfax, FBI.
 
And we’re on to you.”
 
He glanced at her suitcase.
 
“Going somewhere?”

“I—I can explain.”

“No need to explain anything right now, Miss Willis.
 
We have plans for a very long interrogation.
 
This is Officer Campbell,” he nodded to the policeman.

“And you’re under arrest ma’am,” Campbell said.

Libby backed away.
 
“You—you can’t arrest me!”

“I don’t want to add resisting arrest to the charges already pending against you.”
 
Campbell grabbed her wrists once again, and this time snapped on the cuffs.
 
“You have the right to remain silent.”

“No!” Libby screamed.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Noooo!”

“You have the right to an attorney…”

One Week Later

Charlene closed her eyes.
 
She leaned against the soft black leather seat of the car as the driver took her to her mother’s house.
 
It had been an exhausting week and she hadn’t been sleeping well.
 
Charlene found herself napping whenever possible.
 
But sometimes the naps weren’t useful at all, since she couldn’t turn off her mind to the past week’s occurrences, or to what the possible future held for her.

Charlene still hadn’t made definite plans about what to do, but she’d tried to maintain a state of normalcy around the house.
 
Although she still slept in the same bed with Ash, she hadn’t let him touch her since she’d learned the truth.
 
He still begged and pleaded her forgiveness.
 
But his frustration and irritability at times, because of Charlene’s denial of lovemaking, caused him to act like a man having a menstrual period.

Shortly after Gavin was released from the hospital, Ash sat the whole family down and told them all about Kitty and Harland.
 
Gavin had already learned the truth from Harland, but JoBeth had turned white as a sheet upon hearing it, and Leigh Ann felt sick to her stomach.
 
Nevertheless, after the initial shock wore off, the girls were accepting of the situation.

One time, Charlene overheard them rehash the story.
 
Even though Ash had downplayed what he’d told them, they’d managed to romanticize it anyway.
  
JoBeth had said, “Can you believe—Daddy—and a black girl—moving to Europe to be together?”
 
Then Leigh Ann said, “That’s just as romantic as Uncle Heath and Aunt Mikki.”
 
Charlene was a little peeved, to say the least.
 
All they ever did was laugh whenever she told her engagement story.

No longer stiff and sore, Gavin was back at work. Ash had allowed him to be a lifeguard for the rest of the summer.
 
And Harland had spent the past week recuperating at his mother’s home in Joy Hope.
 
He’d be returning to Clarkstown tomorrow, and Charlene had invited him and Mrs. Hall to dinner.

Ash carried on gallantly as Governor through the crisis that almost claimed the lives of his sons.
 
He’d given three speeches on unity since the near tragedy, and vowed to work alongside Harland Hall more aggressively in achieving a racially reconciled state. Good thing he’d already been elected to a second term, Charlene thought.
 
But he was doing the right thing.
 
And she was proud of him, despite her feelings about his deception.

The body parts and head of a one eyed man, identified as Owen Caldwell, had been found not too far from the bridge.
 
From evidence discovered, he was responsible for the explosion.
 
The agents determined that he’d been killed in another blast when he’d tried to remove undetonated dynamite from the bridge beams.

According to the detectives at the scene, only one stick of dynamite out of four had exploded in the assassination attempt.
 
And by the time it had, the car with Gavin and Hall was far enough away not to have been blown to bits.
 
The driver’s body had been found in the river; a shard of glass had cut his jugular vein.

Libby Willis had been arrested.
 
She’d eventually cracked under pressure and admitted to Otis’s murder and her involvement in the plot to kill Harland Hall.
 
In her desperate attempt for leniency, she’d exposed her Organization, and brought down the White Knights of Righteousness.
 
Its key members were now in behind bars.

Charlene sighed.
 
Now she had to deal with her own life.
 
What would be next?
  
She loved her children, but they were grown now and didn’t need her.
 
She’d accepted that Harland was her husband’s child by another woman—a colored woman—that he’d
loved.
 
But she still hadn’t forgiven Ash, and she was struggling as to whether she should stay with him, or leave.
 
Although closing in fast on age 50, Charlene needed her mother’s advice.

When the car slowed down, Charlene opened her eyes.
 
The driver pulled into the circular drive of her parents’ home and parked.
 
After he opened the door for Charlene he asked, “Mrs. Kroth, would you like me to wait, or shall I come back?”

“You go on,” she smiled.
 
“I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”

After Charlene rang the doorbell she was greeted by Leona, who held a feather duster.
 
“Your mama’s busy in the kitchen again.
 
This time she’s making brownies for Mr. Gavin.”

Charlene laughed.
 
“My mother’s done more baking this week than I’ve ever seen her do in my whole life.”

“Well,” Leona said, “she claims she’s baking with love for her grandson.
 
You sit on down, Miss Charlene, I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“That’s all right, Leona, you go back to what you were doing.
 
I’ll go to the kitchen with Mom.”

Charlene walked from the huge entrance foyer over large squares of black and white tile, to the living room and then on through the dining room.
 
When she reached the kitchen, a fudgy chocolate aroma filled the air.
 
A tin of Hershey’s coca was on the counter next to canisters of flour and sugar by a mixing bowl.
  
Esmee, petite, and wearing a white ruffled apron, had just bent down to open the oven. “Good morning, Charlene,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a hot pan of brownies.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Have a seat.” Esmee set the brownies on the counter.
 
“I made two batches,” she motioned to a second pan near the stovetop.
 
“They’ll keep in the freezer.”

“Mom,” Charlene sat at the round kitchen table, “with Gavin’s appetite, there may not be any left to freeze.”
 
Esmee’s red hair was brighter than usual, Charlene noticed.
 
She must’ve changed her color.

Esmee cut into the pan near the stove.
 
“I’m cutting a big one for you.
 
And don’t tell me you’re watching your weight.
 
Looks like you’ve lost a few pounds over the past week.”

Today Charlene wouldn’t refuse a brownie.
 
Her clothes
were
feeling a little loose, so she could indulge.
 
After Esmee set down some coffee and brownies, she seated herself next to her daughter.
 
“I think you could use a facial, dear.
 
That would do wonders for you and lift your spirits.
 
I know you don’t like the thought of coloring your hair, but maybe at the salon, they could lighten it just a little.
 
That’ll make you look younger.”

“Mom,” Charlene put her fingers on her cheek, as if feeling for wrinkles, “do I really look that old?”
 
She asked.
 
And undesirable? She thought.

“No dear, of course not, you’re beautiful. You just look a little tired.
 
Shall I make an appointment for both of us—just for facials?”

Charlene smiled.
 
“Sure Mom.

“Good.
 
Now, how’s my grandson?”

“He’s fine.
 
Says the girls at the pool think that cut on his head’s sexy.”

Esmee laughed.
 
“And my granddaughters are doing well?”
 
Charlene nodded.
 
“And what about that Mr. Hall?
 
Have you been in contact with his family?”

“The cracked rib is healing, and still a little sore.
 
But other than that, he’s fully recovered.”

“That’s good to hear,” Esmee said.
 
“And—what about your husband, how is he?
 
The last time I saw him in person, he looked a little exhausted.
 
But when I saw him on T.V. being interviewed yesterday, he looked wonderful.”
 
Charlene only nodded while sipping coffee.

“What concerns me is how he’s doing behind closed doors.”
 
Esmee pursed her lips for a moment.
 
“I can only imagine—with what happened to Gavin—he’s been affected, somehow.”
 
When Charlene stayed quiet, Esmee asked, “Is
Ash
what you wanted to talk to me about today?”

“Yes—but Mom, how are you doing?”
 
It hadn’t been that long since Otis’s death, but throughout the whole ordeal, Esmee had managed to remain positive.

“I’m fine!” She smiled.
 
“Never better.”

“I wish I had whatever you have to stay so cheerful all the time.”

Esmee squeezed her daughter’s arm.
 
“Now, Charlene, you’ve been in a political family all your life.
 
You know you have to steel yourself for the worst.
 
That comes with the territory of being in the public eye.
 
I never thought your father had any enemies, but when he was a big shot out there on the political scene, I was afraid some lunatic might go after him for some crazy reason.
 
Fortunately,
that
never happened.” Esmee’s eyes welled.
 
“But someone killing one of my children?”
 
She shook her head sadly.
 
“That never even crossed my mind.
 
And Otis never could’ve harmed a soul.”
 

Esmee cut into her brownie, but didn’t eat it. “At least we have closure—with Otis, now.”
 
She sat silently, moving her fork around the rim of her green glass plate.
 
“That Libby had us all fooled for a while, didn’t she?
 
I only liked her because Otis did.
 
But Charlene, you have to put tragedy behind you and move on.
 
Gavin survived—and Harland Hall is fine.”

After Esmee heaved a heavy sigh, she said, “It would’ve looked terrible if he’d been assassinated under Ash’s administration.”
 
She put a hand to her mouth for a moment.
  
“Listen to me, I sound awful!
 
But sometimes in politics, it’s all boils down to appearances.
 
My grandson was almost killed and I just remarked about how things would look.
 
You’ve got to put things in perspective.
 
And at the end of the day, no matter what happens, you just have to be thankful.”

Charlene sighed. “You can’t be thankful about Otis being dead.”

“No, but I’m thankful that God gives me enough grace to make it through each day without falling to pieces.
 
And I’m thankful for my family, my friends, my health and everything else I take for granted when I just want to sit around and cry about not having my son anymore.”
 
Charlene didn’t say anything.
 
“Now, Charlene, what are you holding in?”

“Mother—I found out something about Ash that’s—that’s—I might leave him.”

“Leave him?
 
After 26 years of marriage?
 
What’s he done that’s so horrible?”

“Ash—Ash had a child with another woman.”

“What?!”

“It was before he met me.”

“Oh.”
 
Esmee placed a hand over her heart, relieved.
 
“So your husband made a mistake in his youth.
 
Did he provide for the child—or has the—uh—child turned up to—blackmail Ash, or something?”