Scandalous (21 page)

However, between the trial, the daily pile-up of work on his desk, and his calendar filling up with upcoming speaking engagements, Justin remained too exhausted to focus heavily on his personal life. He poured his energy into his work. His tenuous relationship with Simone strengthened daily. He felt so much empathy for her situation and for the countless youths like her. She'd confided in him about her fears, her insecurities, and her deep desire to find her real parents. Although, rationally, she could understand why parents gave up their children, on an emotional level, she refused to accept it. She wanted
to find them, not just to validate her existence, but to show them what a success she was without them.

Listening to her hurt tore at Justin's heart. Whether Simone was his daughter or not, he silently pledged that he would do whatever was in his power to find her true parents.

Miraculously, the week sped by and he'd only thought of Vaughn a mere million times at last count. The idea that she hadn't called pricked his ego and his emotions. But, thankfully, there were no more news articles to stir up his already raw nerves.

As he prepared for his meeting with Stan Waters, he tried to evaluate all of the possibilities that could have precipitated Waters contacting him. He concluded that Vaughn was at the root of it.

 

As Justin pulled into the valet parking area of Hogarth's restaurant, where the meeting was being held, his thoughts veered toward Vaughn, raising countless questions. Where was she now? Was she thinking about him? Did she have any idea about Stan Waters? And he wondered if she'd already left for her mysterious trip to Atlanta.

 

“Yes, Mother, I'm on my way to the airport. My plane leaves in an hour,” Vaughn said in a rush.

“I don't understand why you have to go to Atlanta at a time like this. With so much going on…”

Vaughn cut her off. “You don't understand, Mother. This is something I have to do. It's important to me. Can't you understand that?”

“Vaughn, honey,” her mother sighed, “I just want you to be happy. With all of these rumors and articles runnin' rampant…I just don't like the idea of you traveling alone.”

“I'll be fine,” she said. “Listen, Mama, I've got to run. I'll call you when I return on Sunday.”

“I wish you wouldn't do this, Vaughn.”

“I have to.”

 

While Vaughn sped along the highway en route to the airport, Justin sat in the company of four of the most influential men in Washington politics. He was being offered the opportunity to salvage Vaughn's life as she knew it.

“I
can't believe you'd have the gall to ask me something like this,” Justin growled between clenched teeth. He tossed his napkin across his plate and stood.

Stan Waters grabbed his wrist. “Mr. Montgomery, I wouldn't be so hasty if I were you. I think you should sit down and listen. The careers of two very important people are at stake.” He gave Justin a steady look, until he finally sat down.

“I can't begin to imagine what you could possibly have to say that would convince me to run against Vaughn Hamilton.”

“But I do,” Stan said. The three other men, Carlton Fitzhugh, owner of the largest hotel chain in Washington, J.T. Johnson publishing mogul, and Morgan Livingston, head of one of the most powerful lobbies on the Hill, all nodded in silent agreement.

“Listen,” Justin cut in, holding up his hand to forestall
any further comment. “If you thugs, which is how this is all shaping up to me, have something concrete to say, then put it on the table. Or you can continue your discussion without me.”

“Very well. Simply put, if you do not take up our offer to run against Ms. Hamilton, we will release information about her activities that will topple her career.

“Ms. Hamilton can handle any trash that's put in those rags. She's been in the business long enough to know that it's all part of the game.”

“Perhaps. But are you willing to test the power of the press? Remember Gary Hart, Reverend Baker, Dukakis? Those are just a few—even the president is not immune.”

Justin's pulse picked up a beat. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “Are you saying that you were responsible for their downfall?” Stan Waters sat back and a slow smile of triumph inched across his mouth.

Justin rubbed his hand across his face. He shook his head. “You wouldn't do that. She's a judge's daughter. She has a clean record in the assembly. What kind of evidence do you have?”

Stan Waters pulled a small Manila envelope out of his breast pocket and slid it across the table toward Justin. Justin quickly skimmed the faces of the men at the table. Their expressions remained closed. Stan was sure that his powers of persuasion, alone, would be enough to convince Justin to enter the race. It was Elliott who insisted that Stan take along the sealed envelope for added insurance. Even he didn't know what the folded documents contained. But by the stony expression on Justin's face, the tension in his jaw, and the slight flaring of his nostrils, the papers had the desired effect.

Justin felt reality slide out from under him. Emotions
raced so fast through his system, he couldn't latch on to them long enough to digest them. Anger, betrayal, a sense of disbelief, and ultimately resignation to the truth took hold. Yes, Vaughn did have plenty to hide, plenty to worry about. And she'd been hiding it from him along with everyone else. Slowly he refolded the papers and inserted them into the envelope. He slipped the envelope into the pocket of his jacket. “What makes you think I'd want to help her?” he asked cautiously.

“We know for a fact that you've been involved with Ms. Hamilton for some time. We're certain that you're not the kind of man who would sit back idly and watch her world crumble down around her. That's what makes you such a credible candidate. We want her out. Just think about what the positive publicity will do for the Harrison case. Then just imagine how negative publicity could destroy it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. Just advising you of the facts.”

“I have no desire to enter politics. I don't have the background or…”

“If you're concerned about your capabilities, believe me, you're quite capable. Anyone who has the wherewithal to operate a law firm, lobby for policy change, and start a string of foundations has more than enough qualifications to get the job done.”

“I won't do this.”

“Oh, I think you will. You see, Mr. Montgomery, you have the power to salvage or destroy a career. One phone call from me and Ms. Hamilton is finished.”

He had to think. He needed time. He needed his own plan. “I'll have to think about this,” he said finally.

Stan shook his head. “I'm sorry, but we're quite out of time. Your name must be put on the ballot immediately to be eligible for the general election.”

“How do you expect me to make this kind of decision, just like that?” he spat.

“Decisions like this and more are made in a split second every day, Mr. Montgomery,” Livingston said in a low lazy drawl. Justin slanted him a look but ignored the comment.

“What if I say yes? There's no guarantee that Ms. Hamilton would drop out of the race.”

“That's not really your worry, Mr. Montgomery. We'll take care of everything.”

Justin felt his chest heave with frustration. As much as he abhorred what she'd done, he knew he could not take part in her destruction. His dark eyes narrowed to slits. “What assurances do I have that this information won't be used?”

Stan Waters wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. “There would be no point in that, Mr. Montgomery,” he said calmly, and signaled the waiter for a round of drinks. “We'll take that as a yes.”

Before Justin had a chance to react, a series of light bulbs flashed in his face. Three reporters, two of whom he knew, began barreling him with questions about his sudden leap into the political pool. Somehow Justin had the presence of mind to repeat the standard “No comment at this time.” And even as he tried to figure out how the press knew, he needed only to look at Stan Waters to find the answer to his question. For the first time since they all sat down, Stan Waters had little to say. He sat back in his seat and smiled.

 

Vaughn's plane landed in Atlanta shortly before 5 P.M.. If the cab kept up the steady speed in and out of rush hour traffic, she could reach the cemetery before it closed for the day.

She'd completed this ritual for the past fifteen years, she thought, leaning back against the worn leather of the cab. Today, May 20, would be the last. She'd never shared this secret part of her life with anyone. It had always been too sacred to her. Not even her mother knew the truth. Sheila believed that she made her yearly trip to Atlanta to visit Brian's grave, not the tiny headstone of her daughter.

“Keep the meter running,” she instructed the driver as she alighted from the cab. Slowly, she entered the small, precisely cared for grounds with the two bouquets she'd purchased at the airport.

The short walk up the slight incline and across the stretch of emerald-green lawn gave Vaughn the opportunity to think. The old, dark, tumbling thoughts scrambled noisely around in her head, fighting to take shape as she neared the familiar marking.

Brian Everett Willis, Jr., beloved son of Claire and Brian Willis, Sr. Too young to know,
was his epitaph. Gently she placed the bouquet across the headstone and touched the smooth, cool surface. She straightened up and moved away.

She rounded a short turn, and there, set on a hill beneath a weeping willow, was the headstone of her daughter.

As she neared, poignant memories of what caused her to be there rushed to the surface. This time, she allowed the memories to wash over her. She'd always shoved them aside and gone through the motions of her daily ritual. But today was different. Today was a day of cleansing.

It was three months before graduation. She and Brian had been seeing each other for the entire senior year. He'd been pressuring her to “give it up,” as he put it. She'd refused, until finally, one night after coming home from a school dance, Brian used all of his youthful skills and she finally gave in—in the back of his car.

Her first experience was awkward, painful, and embarrassing. Brian swore that it would get better. It didn't. Their clumsy effort at lovemaking took place every Friday night, until Vaughn found out that she was pregnant.

At first she was terrified of her parents' reaction, and frightened for her own future. But everything would be fine, she convinced herself, as she waited for Brian on the porch of her home.

When his car pulled up, she tried to smile, but her lips were trembling so badly it was impossible. She hopped down the stairs and hurried around to the passenger side of the car and got in.

“Hey babe,” Brian greeted. “Lookin' good tonight. I figured we'd go see a movie, grab something to eat and then…” He turned and winked at her.

Brian was probably the best looking guy in the elite private academy they attended. At eighteen he was already over six-feet tall, with smooth caramel-colored skin, silky dark brown hair, and the most exotic eyes she'd ever seen. He had thick silky eyebrows and long curling lashes that seemed to outline those remarkable eyes, dark and tipped up at the corners. Girls tripped over themselves trying to get Brian's attention. She told herself that she should feel lucky. The girls she knew would die to be in her shoes. But at that moment, she didn't feel so lucky.

“Brian, we need to talk.”

He frowned and blew out a breath. “What about?”

“I…I went to the doctor today.” She saw his eyes snap. She spilled out the rest before she lost her nerve. “I'm pregnant.”

“Yeah. Who's is it?”

She felt as if she'd been drop-kicked. All of the air in her lungs rushed out in a gush. “What? You know you're the only one I've been with.” Her voice rose in agitation
along with her nerves. “How could you ask me something like that?”

“Easy. I ain't about having no babies. I have plans for my life and that's not one of them. If you went and got yourself pregnant, it's your problem.”

Vaughn's heart was pounding so hard and so fast she couldn't think. Her hands started to shake. “It's your baby,” she said firmly. “It may not fit in your plans, but it's in them.” She folded her arms beneath her growing, tender breasts.

Brian made a noise of disgust. “I'm not really in the mood for hanging out tonight,” he said, as though he hadn't heard a word she'd said. “Know what I mean?” He leaned across her stiff form and released the lock on the passenger door. She didn't have to be told. She took the hint.

“I'll call you,” he said, as he put the car in gear. He turned and looked at her gently. “We'll talk. I promise,” he said. As she watched him drive down the road, she knew he wouldn't call, and she felt very alone.

The next morning, news of the accident was in every paper and on every television station. Brian had been speeding around a sharp turn, lost control of his car, and slammed into a dividing wall. Vaughn was numb.

Elliott, who was a close friend of Brian's father, spoke at the eulogy at Brian Sr.'s request. Even back then they were enmeshed in politics. Brian Sr. was the district attorney and her father was a circuit court judge.

Vaughn's grief and guilt overwhelmed her. She believed it was her fault that Brian—upset by the news of her pregnancy—had driven so recklessly. All she had left of their youthful romance was the tiny baby growing inside of her.

It wasn't until two months later that she finally told her parents. Her mother wept, her father swore that he
would kill the son of a bitch that took advantage of his daughter.

“Who's the father?” he demanded.

“Brian,” she whispered.

Her father sank heavily into the chair. His face was a mask of horror. For several long moments the only sound in the spotless kitchen was the sound of her mother's muffled sobs.

When her father finally spoke again, his ominous voice was directed toward her mother. He refused to look at Vaughn. “Get her to a doctor in Atlanta. Find out how many months. Pack her bags. After graduation she's leaving. When she has the…child, she can come home and resume her life. No one is ever to speak of this again. No one is ever to know. No one.”

Less than five hours after she received her high school diploma, Vaughn and her mother were on a plane bound for Atlanta. She arrived at the home of a mid-wife and was introduced as Valerie Mason.

Vaughn believed that the most tragic day of her life was the day she delivered by Cesarean section a healthy baby girl, who was taken from her only moments after the birth and was never to be seen by her again. That day dimmed in comparison to the morning about six weeks after her return home. Her father very calmly entered her room and told her that the baby's adoptive family had been abusive and that the baby was dead. That morning a part of her died as well. Lost was any hope of ever reuniting with her baby, and the pain lingered on every day of her life.

Now that she'd finally allowed the hurt to take shape, she was able to revisit a point in time that had irrevocably changed her life, and slowly she let go of the guilt. She recognized that it was not her fault. Brian drove his car into the wall. Her father selected the family that took her
daughter. What she had been guilty of was not taking charge of her life sooner.

The images in front of her became cloudy. Her eyes wouldn't focus and she realized that she was crying. Standing in front of the marble headstone, she cried bitter tears.

The marble marker was more symbolic than anything else. She'd never been allowed to go to the funeral and she had no idea where her baby was buried. She'd selected the spot because she felt that her baby should be close to her father and near the family plot.

The engraving was simple.
Valerie Mason, You Were Loved.

Vaughn straightened up and wiped her eyes. She'd given the baby the name she'd used at the hospice. Now it was time to let it go. Let go of the guilt, the remorse, the anger, and begin to heal. She placed the bouquet against the headstone. “Goodbye,” she whispered, turned, and walked back to the waiting cab.

 

Justin paced his living room. He knew that what he'd agreed to was a mistake. But at the time, he didn't see any way around it. His motivation had been to protect Vaughn. They knew it and they used it.