Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series) (9 page)

“Yes, he split with her two years ago now when the drumbeat of marriage got too loud. Frankly, I think he would’ve done it a lot sooner, but it took a while for him to get the courage.”

“Courage? Why’s that?”

“I do believe he loved her in a way, but I think he also felt he was supposed to be with a woman like her, not that she was the one he actually wanted.”

“Oh.” I picked at my food for a moment, trying not to smile. Sylvia was telling me so many things that made me happy when they really shouldn’t. When I looked up, I switched to a safer topic. “So tell me about your job.”

There was no talk of Adam until the end of the meal, but then she really put me on the spot. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked.

“Actually, not much. I always have work to do, but I was in the office yesterday. Juan Carlos is still out of town, so I suppose I’ll watch some TV while the snow falls. What are you doing?”

“Adam and I are going to the Sackler Gallery. I’m friends with the director, and he’s arranged for us to have a special viewing of some works that aren’t on display. Do you want to come along?”

“Um…”

“I don’t want it to be awkward for you, so please don’t feel like you have to.”

It felt like another test. Could I spend the afternoon with Adam in a platonic setting? I knew I should be able to say yes, so I took a breath and smiled. “A little awkward maybe, but it would be fun. Thanks for asking me.”

An hour later, Sylvia and I climbed out of a cab in front of the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery and Freer Gallery of Art. Well, I was the one who climbed. With it snowing outside on a Sunday morning, I tumbled out in a ski jacket, jeans, and snow boots, whereas Sylvia daintily stepped out in her chic black hat, long coat, and boots that looked treacherous on the ice.

I spotted Adam standing to the left outside the front entrance. He was dressed like me in a parka with jeans, and he smiled as we walked toward him. I had a feeling he hadn’t known I was coming along.

When we reached him, Sylvia said, “Hiya. I asked Nicki to join us.”

“Brilliant. Hello,” he said with an appreciative nod.

“Hi.”

His grin widened, and he reached out and tousled the pompom on my stocking cap. The twinkle was back in his eye, and I felt it in my heart. When we were in high school, he used to touch my ponytail the same way. Embarrassed, I took off the hat.

He gestured to the museum door. “Shall we?”

While Sylvia spoke with a woman at the front desk, Adam and I were both quiet. He stared at the art in the entrance area, and I decided it was time for a quick text to Juan Carlos. He knew I’d had brunch with Sylvia that morning, but I needed to tell him about Adam.

Had brunch with Sylvia. Now at the Sackler w/ her.
Adam is here, too. Hope you’re having a good day. I love you.

As usual, his response was quick.

Sounds fun. At bar w/ clients. Only place open in this storm. Had a few too many. Love you.

That made me feel a little better. He wasn’t alone in a hotel room eating bad room service. And if he was out drinking, I could have a harmless trip to a museum with two old friends, right?

By the time the three of us saw the first Hokusai print, I realized I had no reason to be nervous at all. Sylvia began going on and on about Hokusai, and she took over the entire conversation. In fact, she took over the entire room. She spoke so loudly and with such authority on the art that people thought she was a museum guide. They soon began to follow us from room to room.

At one point as Sylvia lectured everyone, I smiled up at Adam and shook my head. He bent down and whispered, “No, she hasn’t changed.”

After moving through a few rooms, she announced, “We’ll now be entering an exhibit of ancient Chinese artifacts, primarily from the Shang Dynasty…”

Adam nodded to a bench. “Do you want to sit this one out?”

“Sure.” As Sylvia led a group inside the next room, I sat down. “I love Asian art, but I’ve seen a lot before.”

“How come?”

“When Logan was governor, we traveled a few times to Asia. You know, trade trips and stuff.”

“It sounds like you’ve traveled a lot, then. You did when you lived in Mexico as well, right?”

“Oh yeah, I did a lot there, too—throughout Central America. And then with Logan, a little in Europe.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and I knew I’d stepped in it. He surely wondered why I had gone to Europe and never contacted him. I quickly added, “But never to England. Only Berlin and Brussels.”

He nodded as if he accepted my explanation. “The president is going to Berlin again next week for the summit.”

“Hopefully I can get away for an hour. It has some great museums.”

“That sounds like fun, and it would be nice for you—to get a break from the stress.”

“Yeah, my job is stressful, no doubt about that, but it’s also amazing and rewarding and can be a lot of fun.” I smiled.

Just then Sylvia walked back into our room with her followers, who seemed to hang on her every word. She turned to them and said, “Well, thank you so much for joining me today. I really loved it. I should probably get back to my friends now.”

Walking back over to us, she laughed. “Sorry about that. I should’ve warned you. It happens a lot. I just can’t help sharing with people everything that I know.”

“Can we get on with our own tour now?” Adam asked as he impatiently gripped his parka. Age really hadn’t changed their interactions. He was still the bossy big brother, and she was still the annoying little sister.

We made our way through more of the gallery and then wandered over to the Freer. The Peacock room was especially gorgeous. The elaborate gold and blue designs really did remind me of a peacock’s feathers, and the porcelain it housed was equally fine. It was the sort of room you wanted to stay in for a while and enjoy its uniqueness.

I asked, “Do you mind if we sit down for a minute here? It’s beautiful, and I’m a little tired.”

Sylvia checked her watch. “I don’t really have time if I’m going to meet up with George to see that collection.”

Maybe a little tired himself, Adam leaned against the wall. “What exactly are we seeing? I’d like to sit down for a few minutes as well.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful stuff that no one gets to see.” Sylvia’s eyes lit up. “Since the galleries are part of the Smithsonian, they’re government-funded. There are pieces the museum has in its holdings but never displays because Americans are such prudes.” She turned to me and said, “Your crazy right wing would go mad.”

“So it’s political art?” I asked.

“Oh no. It’s
Shunga
. Japanese erotic art.”

Erotic art? What the hell?
There was no way I was going to look at porn with Adam. No way, no way. I glanced over at him, and he looked pissed. Did Sylvia think she was doing us a favor?

I tried to crack a joke, one that had some truth to it. “I’m sorry, Sylvia. It’s nice of you to arrange it, but as you said, Americans are prudes, and I work at the White House. I’ll stay here.”

“Indeed,” said Adam. “The deputy White House press secretary probably shouldn’t be on a private tour of hidden erotica at the Smithsonian.” He scowled at his sister. “I’ll keep her company. You go ahead.”

“Oh, you two have always been such duds.” She chuckled and walked on. “I’ll go by myself and meet you back here in half an hour or so.”

As she huffed out of the room, I said, “I hope she’s not upset.”

“Who bloody cares? That’s not something I want to see with my sister.”

But would he have wanted to see it with me? I gave him a sly look before turning away.

“Let’s sit down,” I heard him say. I looked over, and he walked toward a bench.

Joining him there, I said, “It’s such a beautiful room.”

“My mum would love it. The next time they visit, I should bring them here.”

“Are they coming soon?”

“Nothing is planned.” His eyes moved around the room as if he were studying the people around us. Only two other visitors remained, and they headed toward the door—likely fleeing before the impending snowstorm outside would hit. Adam’s expression became grim. “Actually, I don’t know why I said that. They won’t be coming again. There won’t be any more plans. My dad is so ill that it’s not possible.”

“Oh, Adam. I’m sorry.” My heart sank for him again. “How often are you able to see them?”

“I usually go home once a month. Sylvia does as well. I haven’t been back in six weeks, though, so I’m taking time off after Berlin to see him.”

“That must be very difficult.” My grandmother had died of cancer, so I knew what it was like to watch someone’s life come to a close over the course of visits. It was like reading a book that you hoped would get better with each chapter, but instead it got worse. Some stories never had a happy ending.

I tried to find something encouraging to say. “It’s still nice that you can visit often—that you can see him even though you live in another country. I bet he really appreciates it.”

“Well, my mum does.” He laughed. “I guess he likes having us around. Sylvia talks his ear off. He and I don’t talk much, so we end up watching a lot of football.”

“But isn’t that what men do?” I smiled. “Instead of talking about important things, they just talk about sports.”

“Excuse me.” He was playfully indignant. “Are you saying my father and I are insensitive?”

“Absolutely.”

“And do you see your family often?” He seemed eager to change the subject away from himself.

“Some. They were both here for the inauguration. I usually see my dad a fair amount. President Logan’s home is still in Chicago. And when I’m in California for work, I visit my mom. Last year with the campaign, my life was crazy and I was never home, so she didn’t visit me, but she’ll come to DC now that I’m here.”

“What about Houston? Do you ever go back there?”

“Occasionally, to see friends and…” My speech halted altogether, and I stared at him. Once again in my life, I was about to tell Adam something about my sister I never told anyone. His gaze held mine as if he knew what might be coming. Had he set me up for it? Was he curious himself? Whatever the reason, as usual I
wanted
to tell him.

“When I’m there,” I said, “I stop by my sister’s grave.”

“That’s understandable. I would do the same thing. Besides, you grew up with her in Houston. It’s home,” he said delicately.

Whenever he treaded so lightly around my emotions, yet acknowledged them just the same, it just made me more comfortable expressing them. “But it’s not home anymore.” My lip shook, and the tears I normally suppressed tumbled forth. “I feel bad that we’ve all moved away.”

His eyes went wide, like he was mortified he’d made me cry. “Nicki.” He put his arm around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or make you sad.”

“It’s like we’ve left her behind,” I gasped, recognizing my guilt for permanently abandoning Lauren to a friendless graveyard. The nook of his arm provided safe haven for feeling what I needed to, just as it always had, and I wanted to bawl my eyes out. But I couldn’t. This time I was an adult in a public place. Even if no one was in the room with us, I shouldn’t have been crying in the arms of another man than Juan Carlos, especially one who happened to also be a BBC reporter.

I pulled away and patted the tears off my cheeks. “I know it’s silly, but if I have to fly through Houston, I’ll even schedule a long layover just to go to the cemetery.”

“That’s nice, but your sister isn’t there,” he said, rubbing my back. “Not really. She’s with you. In your heart. Right?”

Breathing deeply, I tried to pull myself together. “I know it makes no sense. Intellectually, I get it. Her soul is gone and elsewhere, but I hate that her remains are still there in that cemetery when none of us live near her.” I let out a throaty laugh. “I always said we should have scattered her ashes in the Gulf. Then she’d be everywhere.”

“It does appear to have its benefits.” He grinned, probably happy I felt okay enough for a joke. He stopped rubbing my back but let his hand rest above my waist, and I didn’t stop him. “Do you talk with your parents about it?”