Woman King (27 page)

“That is the essence of being human,” I said.
“We don’t have the luxury of watching from hundred-year old seats.
We make a choice in the moment. Some of us make poor choices; some
of us rise to the occasion. Life is the struggle we all face to eke
out a meaningful existence.” I had no idea where my impassioned
speech had come from. I’m generally not that philosophical.

“You’ve proved my point,” he said, his voice
rising. “Humans are incapable of change.”

It was my turn to get angry. His bias
bordered on the ridiculous. “OK, I get your point, although I
fundamentally disagree with your perspective,” I said. “Let’s move
on. Tell me what happened after the war.”

“Nineteen forty-six marked the end of my
formal connection with the Council. I didn’t have the heart for it
anymore,” he said. “Eventually, though, the Council began to
contact me to work on small projects. My years in the resistance
were fruitful. I had connections across Europe. I was discreet and
could assimilate into any environment. I agreed to search for
things that had disappeared.”

“Disappeared?’ I said. “What kinds of things
disappear?”

“When an Other wants to hide from this
world,” he said, “they can do it quite successfully. I helped track
them down.”

I laid my head back down on my pillow and
closed my eyes. I was relieved to finally learn more about
William’s life, but his view of humans was bringing me down. I
hoped I could restore some of his faith in humanity.

“Have you ever been asked to track one of
these Serbian mobsters?”

“I have, which is why I am asking you not to
go looking for trouble,” he said. “Hopefully no one saw you and you
can just forget the robbery ever took place.”

As far as he was concerned, I was an
interventionist and he was the isolationist.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” I said. “But I
would like to know more about the people who tried to blind me.
Don’t you think I am entitled to know?”

“You know what they say about curiosity,” he
retorted. “Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you take my word for
it and agree not to search for them?”

Here we were again, facing William’s lack of
confidence in human decision-making, only this time it was the
merits of this human and
her judgment
. I’d had enough. My
eyes no longer ached, but the rest of me did, chiefly my heart.

“Listen, I don’t think I can discuss this
with you anymore,” I said. “I’m feeling better so I’d like to ask
you to leave so I can go to sleep.”

“You’re kicking me out?” William asked
incredulously. “I thought I would spend the night and look after
you.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, trying to
keep a brave face. “I think I would rather be alone.”

William stared at me. “Olivia, again, I’m
sorry. I think I may have said too much,” he said. “I’ll try to be
more open to your point of view.”

I patted his hand. “I’m exhausted and I
really need to be alone,” I repeated. Begrudgingly, he rose from
the bed.

“Come down and lock the door behind me,” he
said as he left my room. When we were at the front door, he turned
to me, “Promise me you won’t do anything until we can talk
again?”

I nodded, allowing him to kiss me goodnight.
Shutting the door, I could feel the tears forming at the corners of
my eyes. I didn’t see how we could continue. It seemed impossible
that I could have a relationship with a man who had such a low
opinion of humankind, and who was so opposed to the things I wanted
to do.

****

Despite my injuries, I managed to get out of
bed the following morning to work. I booted up my laptop, pulled
out the draft of the poll and completed it by phone with my staff.
A final version of the document had been sent to a call center in
Omaha and now, almost two days later, we had the first results,
which were promising: Levi was ahead in the race.

It was welcome news as I started to recover
from my injuries over the following days. My eyes remained a shade
of pink, but at least I no longer looked like a wandering zombie.
Elsa was my constant companion, watching my every move, under the
guise of needing to apply more of Nadia’s healing remedies to my
shoulder.

Although I had no proof, I suspected William
had contacted Gabriel and Aidan to tell them I’d kicked him out. If
they knew, then Elsa did too, but she didn’t mention William, and
neither did I. The last time I’d seen him or been in contact had
been at my front door, when we said goodbye.

Thoughts of our last conversation continued
to churn my stomach. It felt futile to try to convince him of my
views, so I kept my distance. The fact that my heart was broken was
irrelevant. There was no room for prolonged conflict in my life.
Thanks to my walk-on role as an accidental witness to a jewelry
heist, I’d already lost precious time I needed for the campaign. I
was determined to focus on my work and set thoughts of William
aside, at least until I could figure out how to deal with him.

By the third morning, thanks to Nadia’s magic
drops, my eyes were clear. My shoulder was tender, but not terribly
bruised. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I decided I looked “safe”
enough to make an appearance in Palo Alto.

It felt good to be back at work, and for the
next several days I spent long hours at the campaign headquarters
writing direct mail pieces, and running impromptu meetings with the
campaign committee, which consisted of me, Levi, Gabriel, and
Richard Lyon, a close friend of Levi’s and the founder of a hugely
successful venture capital fund. Lyon’s seaside home in Carmel was
scheduled to be the site of our first house party, a meet-and-greet
with potential donors and friends in an informal setting.

The party, which was about a week away, was
being organized by Richard’s office, which was managing the
catering and event staff. A separate fundraising firm had been
hired to send the invitations and identify major donors. All that
was left for me was to manage the press and escort the
candidate—easy tasks I was more than prepared to do. It all would
have been simple, if my phone were not buzzing every few seconds,
signaling I had a text.

Olivia

Finish what you start

Please don’t walk away

…
Again.

William.

I ignored him. By the following day, the
texts had turned to phone calls, which I ignored. The missed calls
turned into voicemail. Each message caused the phone to beep and
vibrate. After the fifth or sixth call, Gabriel, who’d come to help
me work on the party, reached across the table and grabbed my
phone, holding it up for me to see.

“I assume this is William,” he said. “Aren’t
you going to answer his calls?”

“No, he doesn’t approve of my work,” I said.
“What’s the point?”

“
Çe n’est pas bon, Olivia
,” he said.
“
Il n’est pas un vautour
.”

“He’s not a vulture? Can you explain
that?”

“You know what I mean. A vulture is always
buzzing around looking for an opportunity. William is the opposite;
he’s a good man.”

“He’s too complicated.”

“And you?” Gabriel asked. “Aren’t you a bit
complicated, too?”

I dodged the question, changing the subject.
“How are the videos of the robbery coming? Any luck?”

“You must wait until after the party,”
Gabriel said. “Then, and only then, will I show you what we
found.”

Grudgingly, I agreed to wait, and Gabriel
headed back to San Francisco.

Later that day, JP walked into the
headquarters and asked to see me. We’d been emailing regularly, but
this was the first time I’d seen him in person for a while. The
campaign sent out press releases weekly, sometimes daily,
announcing key milestones, such as a notable endorsement. JP
contacted me after every release for a formal comment, and then we
would chat amicably for a few minutes. He hadn’t asked me out on a
date again. Now, today, for some reason, he was here in the flesh,
carrying a whole lot of nervousness.

Earlier that morning, the campaign had sent
out a release announcing Levi’s position regarding raising income
taxes for billionaires, a popular topic of conversation since the
99% movement had taken root in San Francisco and there had been
riots at UC Berkeley and UC Davis.

JP, it seemed, had decided to come in person
for his quote, asking if Levi would agree to tax himself at a
higher rate.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Like Warren Buffett,
Levi Barnes believes the wealthy have an obligation to pay higher
taxes.”

“Yes, but can a billionaire ever really
relate to the average American?”

I leaned back in my chair, ready to play
press secretary. “It’s not wealth that defines a person, but their
actions,” I said. “Levi Barnes wasn’t born into wealth. He acquired
it by living the American Dream. He was a university professor who
used his education to start companies that created technologies
embraced by consumers and the business community. Any entrepreneur
can follow in that path.”

I watched as JP furiously scribbled in his
pad. I’d grown used to the long silences while reporters tried to
capture their dictation. I used to feel compelled to fill the
silence with more talking, but I had learned over the years to be
patient. I knew Levi has gotten his quote.

“Did you get what you needed?”

JP nodded, as he closed his notebook.

“OK, then if you don’t mind, I have some work
to get back to.”

“Wait,” he said, his nervousness reaching a
peak. “I was wondering if you had reconsidered having a coffee with
me, or maybe dinner. I thought perhaps after Lyon’s party next
week.”

“That’s a private event,” I said in my
haughtiest voice. “ I don’t recall the media being invited.”

JP laughed. “Wow, that was excellent campaign
spokesperson reprimand voice,” he said. “But you’ll have to stand
down, because Richard Lyon invited me.”

Not good
, I thought to myself.
Overconfident FOC—friend of candidate—invites reporter to lavish
party in Carmel full of Silicon Valley insiders. I had to wonder
who benefitted from that kind of exposure. “If Richard invited you,
then we’re done here,” I said. “I assume you’ll keep everything off
the record?”

More laughter. “Yeah, right. Now about
dinner, do we have a date?”

“OK,” I said, “But let’s keep it light. This
is more of a casual meal than a date. Deal?”

“Deal” he said, and collected his notebook
and left.

The next few days whirled by. There were
plenty of preparations to make and our tax policy release had
managed to get Levi a space on Nightline and CNN. I had been
swamped with calls from producers seeking Levi for television
interviews. Levi was thrilled with the exposure and Gabriel was
excited to see the campaign going so smoothly.

Gabriel had managed to keep Elsa and Aidan
out of my reach, knowing that I wanted to speak with them about
what they had found in their search of the videos and media
coverage of the robbery. The minute the party in Carmel was over, I
had big plans to install myself at the Council’s offices.
Meanwhile, I had simply locked my cell phone in a drawer at home to
avoid seeing more of William’s texts.

All of the activity kept me busy, and very
quickly I found myself standing in the living room of Richard
Lyon’s home, watching the sunset. After all of the buildup and
anticipation, I was relieved that the house party was going well.
The view from his floor-to-ceiling windows of the Carmel shoreline
had never looked more beautiful. Even more glorious, the home was
full of Levi’s supporters; the most wealthy and influential
families from the region had sent at least one person to attend.
The 1950’s ranch-style home was basking in the last rays of the sun
and Levi was basking in the acceptance and encouragement of his
peers. I was loving the energy buzzing in the room, for these
people were truly hopeful that Levi would make a difference, that
the government could make a difference. Maybe it was all the wine
and sunshine, but the vibe in the room felt right. It felt hopeful.
It felt like…victory.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught JP
interviewing some of the guests and sighed. In the days that had
passed, I’d grown increasingly uncomfortable with Richard’s
decision to invite him, and for that matter, my acceptance of his
dinner invitation. He was a thorough, competent reporter, but
whether he was suitable as anything more remained to be seen. JP
was certainly interested in me, but I was missing in action. It was
true that he and I had something in common …we were human, but
there was no spark there. I was deeply in love with someone else.
Of course, that someone didn’t seem to approve of my choices in
life, so from my viewpoint, there was no hope for the three of
us.

Fortunately, I was too busy working the room
to reflect more on the futility of the situation. Moving through
the dining room, shaking hands and trading business cards, I was
relishing being part of a well-funded campaign. I caught Levi’s eye
and began to make my way across the room. I gestured with my hands
to ask if he would like a drink, and he answered with a subtle nod
while holding conversation with someone. I stopped and began to
backtrack toward the deck where the bar had been set up. I took a
few steps, but ran into JP before I reached the bar.

“Where would you like to go for dinner?” he
asked quietly under his breath.

“I don’t know,” I said, “Maybe Il Fornaio?
It’s sort of old school, but they have a nice deck.”

JP nodded, “Sounds good. There’s also a café
nearby, it’s named after a bicycle in French, I thought maybe you
would like that.”

I nodded. “La Bicyclette. Sounds good,” I
said, suddenly distracted by an uncomfortable feeling of pressure
against my skull. I turned my head in the direction of the source
of my discomfort and saw something I did not expect: standing next
to Gabriel in the living room was William. Were it not for his red
hair, I might not have recognized him. I had never seen him wear
anything but jeans and a T-shirt, but tonight he was dressed in an
expensive Italian khaki linen suit that been altered perfectly to
fit his frame. He had paired the suit with a striped shirt and a
yellow tie bathed in the pale color of the sun at high noon. He
looked wealthy, successful and above all,
invited
.