The Value Of Valor - KJ3 (15 page)

“How’s my favorite patient?”

“I’m feeling much better now, thanks.”

The Value of Valor

“That’s good to hear.”

Terri could not help but notice the way her daughter’s voice softened and her eyes lit up when she looked at Alexa. She frowned, knowing she needed to have a talk with Trystan soon.

“Alexa, you must be hungry. Are you ready for breakfast?” Terri asked.

“Mmm, that sounds great. Thanks.”

“Yeah, Amá, I’m starved.”

Terri smiled indulgently. “Then you can get in here and help me prepare it.”

Trystan rolled her eyes. “I walked right into that one. Should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.” She winked at Alexa as she turned to follow her mother into the kitchen.

“While you two are slaving over a hot stove, I could sure use a shower.”

“Are you going to be okay doing that by yourself?” Trystan blushed as she asked the question. “Do you need some help?”

“Thanks, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Okay. Holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

In the kitchen, Terri tried to calm her nerves. She hated having to do this, knowing it would hurt the person she loved most in the world, but Andrea was right—she couldn’t wait any longer. When Trystan came to stand next to her, Terri asked, “Where’s Alexa?”

“She’s taking a shower.”

Terri put down the knife she’d been using to cut a loaf of homemade banana bread, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and faced Trystan.

“Come with me.”

“I thought we were making breakfast.”

“There’s something I have to show you first.”

“Okay.”

Terri led the way into her bedroom, walked directly to her jewelry box, and pulled Alexa’s ring from inside. Wordlessly, she handed it to her daughter.

Trystan accepted the ring and examined it in the light. “You never told me you had a wedding ring. I’ve never seen you wear it.” She noted the inscription on the inside, pointed to it and said, “Very romantic.”

Terri looked down at her feet. “It’s not mine.”

“Not yours? Then who’s…” Her voice trailed off as she considered the possibilities.

Terri said the words she knew would slice through her daughter like a knife. “It belongs to Alexa. I removed it from her left ring finger when I was tending to the cuts on her hands after the accident.”

Lynn Ames

Trystan looked at her mother uncomprehendingly. “But—”

Terri finally glanced up to meet eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Alexa doesn’t know,” she continued, “she hasn’t seen it. I spoke with a psychologist, and she thinks it would be a mistake to show it to her.” She rushed on, filling the uncomfortable void. “It might only serve to frustrate her more—knowing that she’s married and that somewhere out there someone is mourning her and she doesn’t know who it is.”

Trystan stared at her mother, tears welling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I tried to warn you at the very beginning. Do you remember?”

“You should’ve told me what you knew, Amá. Now it’s too late.”

Trystan’s lips trembled and her tears began to fall.

Terri reached out, intending to take her daughter into her arms, but Trystan backed away, shaking her head.

“No, Amá. You can’t make this one better with a hug. You can’t make this one better at all.” Choking on her sobs, she ran out of the house.

All Terri could do was watch her go and let her own tears fall at her failure to protect her child.

When Alexa walked into the kitchen a short time later, she knew something was wrong. “Where’s Trystan?”

“Something came up. She couldn’t stay.”

“Oh.” Alexa wanted to ask what but didn’t feel it was her place. Then she got a good look at Terri’s face, filled with sadness and pain. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, child, I’m fine.” Terri busied herself making a new pot of coffee.

“Are you sure? Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Terri said too quickly, before catching herself. “No.

Everything’s fine, Alexa. Sit. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Alexa didn’t really believe Terri, but she didn’t want to pry any further. She took her seat at the table, when all she really wanted to do was find Trystan and ask why she’d left in such a hurry.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER EIGHT

rystan sat on a rock by the water, idly skimming stones across the T surface. She was angry—angry at her mother for keeping a vital piece of information from her, angry at herself for opening her heart to the possibility of a future with a woman who didn’t even know her past, and angry at the universe in general for giving her Alexa, only to snatch her away.

What was she supposed to do now? Stay away from Alexa entirely?

She wasn’t sure she could or even if she wanted to. One thing was certain: she couldn’t continue with Alexa on the path they were on. What she wanted with Alexa was a life spent loving each other. Seeing the ring, reading its inscription, she knew that would never be, and she was too honorable to behave as if it could be otherwise.

“Trystan? Are you here?”

Trystan buried her face in her hands at the sound of Alexa’s voice.

She wasn’t ready. Still she dried her eyes, put on her best neutral expression, and called, “Over here.”

Within seconds, Alexa was by her side. “Sorry I missed you at breakfast. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Trystan continued gazing at the water, skimming stones.

“Are you sure? You seem a little upset about something.”

“I’m not. I just needed a little time alone, that’s all.” The words came out more harshly than Trystan intended.

“Oh,” Alexa backed up a step, surprised and hurt by Trystan’s tone of voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just head back to your mother’s.”

As Alexa turned to go, Trystan put a hand on her arm. She couldn’t push Alexa away—not like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“It’s okay, Trystan. I know I’ve been a pretty constant presence for you these past weeks—one that you didn’t ask for. I should’ve been more sensitive to the fact that you have your own life, and it doesn’t always need to include me. I’ve imposed on you, and I apologize for that.”

Without waiting for a reply, Alexa returned the way she had come.

Lynn Ames

Trystan reluctantly watched her go, every fiber in her being urging her to follow Alexa and set things right. Instead, she turned back to the water and let the tears flow.

Alexa wandered along the creek aimlessly, having decided she needed time to think before going home to Terri’s house. She was depressed. Trystan and Terri were the only people she had in the world, the last thing she wanted was to impose on them to the point of annoyance. Which is exactly what she feared had happened with Trystan that morning.

Alexa thought about how much she had come to rely on Trystan’s friendship and how much she enjoyed the time they spent together. It seemed to her that Trystan looked forward to their encounters as much as she did, but maybe she was wrong—perhaps she was suffocating her.

Afraid of losing Trystan altogether, Alexa resolved to give her the space she obviously needed.

Alexa sat down on the bank of the creek, feeling completely lost and utterly alone.

“Mr. President, the vice president is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Vicky, send him in.”

“Very well, sir.”

“And Vicky? I don’t want to be disturbed for any reason.

Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Vice President Wheeler was in a surly mood. The president had summoned him off the seventh green in the middle of his weekly round of golf. He paused in the center of the room, waiting.

President Hyland, taking in the vice president’s golfing outfit, was secretly pleased that he’d chosen his moment well. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“All right.”

The president waited until Wheeler was seated across from him, the large desk separating them. He leaned back in his chair and stared hard at the man he’d been forced to accept as his running mate.

The vice president shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the scrutiny.

“Tell me, Al, what’s the going price for treason these days?”

“Excuse me?” Wheeler’s face flushed and his eyes grew wide.

“I said, what’s the cost for betraying your country?”

“How should I know?”

The Value of Valor

The president shoved forward suddenly in his chair, his forearms landing hard on the desk. “Don’t mess around with me, Wheeler. I know what you’ve been up to. I know about the call to China.”

The vice president’s face drained of all color. “W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you, Al? How do you feel about being impeached and going to jail for the rest of your stinking life?”

“Y-you can’t prove anything.” Wheeler’s mind was whirling. How in the world had he been found out? Had Hawthorne been double dealing?

“Oh, yes, I can. I’m going to give you one chance to come clean. I want to know who put the plan in play, what you hoped to accomplish, who’s in it with you, and I want to know now.” The president pounded his fist on the desk for emphasis.

Wheeler was trying to sort through possibilities in his mind. He didn’t want to take the fall for the plan, especially not if Hawthorne had set him up. The bastard. He looked at the president. Was he bluffing? Wheeler didn’t think so, but he thought he might still work his way out of trouble.

“You know, Mr. President, there are some members of your party who understand my value. I don’t understand for the life of me why you don’t.”

“Is Robert Hawthorne one of those people, Al? What did he promise you? What did you hope to gain?”

The vice president leaned forward in his chair. The mention of Hawthorne’s name in conjunction with the questions about their plan made him rethink whether or not the chairman had betrayed him; perhaps he hadn’t. But if not him, then who? He decided to try one last time to reason with Hyland. “What’s wrong with the idea of democracy in China, Mr. President?”

“In theory, nothing. The point is, inciting a revolution in another country, doing so without the consent of the president or Congress, and initiating the plan in secret constitutes treason. So let me ask you again, Al, before I call in the Secret Service and have you arrested on the spot, how did this plot come about?” The president saw Wheeler vacillating and closed in for the kill. “It’s possible if you come clean that we can get past this and get on with the business of the people. If you don’t—you’ll leave me no choice but to move ahead with charges.”

The vice president chewed the corner of his moustache, unsure of what to do. In the end, it came down to self-preservation. “All right. It happened like this. I got a call from Bob telling me he wanted to talk to me about something important. He said we shouldn’t do it in my office, so I went over to his place.”

The president nodded. So far, Wheeler seemed to be telling the truth—a trip to Hawthorne’s office would account for the two hours
Lynn Ames

between the call he placed to the DNC chairman and the call to China.

“Go on.”

“We were talking about how great it would be to bring democracy to China—what a coup it would be for the free world and the United States in particular.”

The president smiled. He doubted Wheeler even understood the pun he had unintentionally made.

“Bob said it was all in place; we could make it look like an internal rebellion. He had it all set up. I just needed to make a phone call and everything would be taken care of.”

“So you called Bruce Gendreau and gave him the order to set the revolution in motion.” The president said it as a statement, not a question.

The vice president seemed perplexed. “Who’s Gendreau?”

“The CIA station chief in China. That’s who you called, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I never knew his name.”

“What was supposed to happen next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you made the phone call, what was supposed to happen after that?”

The vice president shrugged, feeling somewhat foolish. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Bob thought it would be best if I didn’t know too much about the plan.”

The president sprang up from his chair and began pacing behind his desk. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. The chairman of the DNC urges you to commit treason and you don’t even ask the details of what you’re setting in motion? You put the entire country—no, the world—at risk, and you have no idea what the endgame is?”

Wheeler didn’t like feeling like a dolt. “The endgame, Pretty Boy, is democracy in Communist China. What part of that don’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand how you can sit here and try to justify treason as anything other than what it is,” the president thundered, sitting back down and mulling over possible courses of action. Having Wheeler removed from office would give him a chance to appoint someone who really could do justice to the job of vice president. On the other hand, if the scandal were to get out, his administration would be compromised before his term even got started. Nothing had happened yet. There was still time to reverse the command, fire Hawthorne, get Wheeler under his thumb, and move on. He needed more time to think.

“What you’ve done, Al, constitutes a high crime—one punishable by impeachment and removal from office.”

The vice president sat glowering across the desk.

The Value of Valor

“Still as far as I can tell, the damage hasn’t been done yet. I need some time to decide what I’m going to do about this. I’ll let you know when I’ve made up my mind. Until then, I suggest you lay low because if I find out you’ve done otherwise, I won’t hesitate to take you down.”

The vice president, angered at having so little control over his own fate, stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

“I’m telling you, he knows everything. He knows about the phone call to your guy in China, he knows about the plan, and he’s threatening to charge me with treason.” The vice president paced agitatedly around Hawthorne’s office.