Truth Be Told (25 page)

O
ne day twisted into the next as the Monroes returned to their schedule of school, work, tennis practice, dance practice, homework, dinner, and all the other tasks that filled their days. Conner and Grace embraced their work, working late into the night—together in their home office.

Pilar and Solomon were covered through simple sentences.

“Did you speak to Solomon today?” Grace asked every evening.

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“Fine.”

That was all she wanted to know.

A week after they returned, as they ate Chinese take-out, Grace felt as if their lives were almost back to normal. Grace watched Jayde as she chatted with Conner about her boyfriend's cousin.

“Donald plays Ping-Pong, Dad, so I was wondering if we could put the Ping-Pong table back in the family room.”

Grace tried not to smile. She could tell Conner was considering the request.

“And, Dad, do you think I could get a job this summer?”

Grace shook her head. She didn't want any part of that discussion.

“Mommy, are you listening to me?”

She turned to Amber. “Of course, sweetheart. You said next year you want to play the clarinet.”

Amber nodded as she popped half an egg roll into her mouth.

Grace basked in the chatter and laughter that just a week ago she feared she would never hear again.

“So what do you think of the clarinet, Mommy?”

“That's great, Amber.”

Her daughter grinned. “That's what I'm gonna do. I won't play the flute like Jayde. I'm gonna be my own woman.”

Grace laughed, letting her cheer join the giggles that already filled the room.

After dinner, Grace cleaned the kitchen, while Conner checked homework. When Grace finished her Bible study with Amber, she was surprised to find Conner in their bed, already settled with papers covering his lap.

“You're working,” she said.

“I can go into the office so the light won't bother you.”

She kissed him. “No, this is perfect. I want to review my proposal for the mayor.” She sat and leaned against Conner.

He lifted his hands to her shoulders and began to loosen the tightness that rested there. She moaned under his touch.

“Maybe neither of us should work.” His lips grazed her ear.

She smiled at his invitation. “I wish. But we have too much to do.”

He tapped her behind as she stood and went into her closet. When she came out, she posed at the door, wearing one of his pajama tops, a black and white checkered shirt that brushed the top of her thighs. With her hands on her hips, she sauntered toward the bed.

“How am I supposed to work now?”

She laughed and leaned over, but a second before their lips met, the phone rang. They stared at the telephone before Conner grabbed it.

Grace looked at the clock. It was after ten. Not too late if the call was from California. But if it were from New York, it was late enough for bad news.

Conner spoke succinctly, answering, then questioning.

Her stomach twisted as she paced. She resisted the urge to run to the extension in the hall. She stood still when Conner began taking notes.

Conner blew air through his cheeks when he finally hung up. “Pilar's in Jamaica Hospital.”

Fear would not allow Grace to move.

“Solomon is with neighbors. That was his friend Benji's mother.”

Grace swallowed. She didn't need to ask what was wrong. Symptoms didn't matter. “What are the doctors saying?”

He shook his head. “Mrs. Downs didn't know anything, but she gave me the doctor's name. I'll call in the morning.”

The boulder that held Grace in place lifted, allowing her to take steps back to the bed. She let the silence settle as she sat. She wasn't going to say it first.

“Grace.” Before Conner said another word, tears burned her eyes. He continued, “I don't know … when … but Solomon … I think …”

“There's no more time.” The words creaked past her lips.

“We have to tell everyone. And the girls have to be told first.”

Her chin fell to her chest. “They're not ready.” But the conviction she'd spoken with days before was gone.

He knelt beside her and lifted her chin. “I promise the girls will be all right.”

She nodded, needing to believe him, knowing she didn't.

He pulled her from the bed, and they held each other. When Grace looked at the clock, it was almost eleven, and she wondered who had stolen their time. She broke their embrace, and Conner helped her into bed, covering her, settling her like she was his child. When he slipped into bed, he put his arms around her, holding her like she was his wife.

She could feel the tears on his heart; he wiped the tears on her face.

“Conner,” she said, through her sobs. “I think we need to pray for the children … tonight.”

Still lying down, they held hands and he prayed. Then together they said a prayer for Pilar.

G
race entered the mayor's outer office and was surprised that Marie, the mayor's assistant, was not at her desk, although the opened folders and coffee mug with steam still rising told Grace she would be back.

She took a seat in one of the burgundy-cushioned wingback chairs and eased her briefcase onto the table while she balanced her Styrofoam cup in one hand. Settled, she took a sip and frowned as the hot liquid slid over her tongue. She'd asked for extra espresso in her cappuccino, but now she hoped she could swallow the drink.

She closed her eyes. How was she supposed to make it through this day when there was no sleep behind her and she dreaded the hours ahead?

This morning, she was ready to draw back on her agreement with Conner, wanting to wait to speak with the girls until they knew more about Pilar. But she changed her mind when she saw his expression when he came down the stairs.

“The doctors didn't say much,” he had whispered as they stood at the door to the garage. He kissed her. “I'll call you.”

She had nodded and kept her doubts about their girls inside.

When she turned back to the kitchen, Jayde was standing there watching, and Grace wondered what she'd heard.

“You're the early bird.”

Grace didn't open her eyes. Even when she whispered, Sara Spears's voice was as grating as fingernails scraping a trail against a chalkboard.

“How're you, Councilwoman?”

Grace opened her eyes and stared at the leader of the Anti Christian Coalition. “What do you want, Sara?”

She sat on the edge of the chair next to Grace. “I want an interview.”

Grace smirked.

“For
City Talk,
my new cable show.”

Grace shook her head. She opened her mouth to give an explanation, then simply said, “No.”

“Come on, Ms. Monroe. Surely you wouldn't mind defending your views.”

“Sara,” she said, drawing out her name as if it had four syllables. “No.”

Sara shrugged and stood.

“Besides bugging me, what are you doing here?” Grace wasn't sure why she asked the question. With her column in the
Times
and now her cable show, Grace was sure that Sara was always sniffing the halls for a story.

“I'm here to watch you, Grace. Make sure that you're not appointed to any important committees.”

Grace rolled her eyes as Sara laughed, then disappeared into the hallway. She waited until she could no longer hear Sara's chuckles, then pulled her proposal from her briefcase. She didn't know why Sara thought she had that much power. She was nothing more than a horse's behind. No one took her too seriously.

Still, Sara's words made Grace want to review her proposal. Sara did have a few allies and Grace wanted to be prepared in case the mayor was one of them.

Ambivalent was the way to describe Grace's feelings toward Mayor Haley. The second-term mayor supported some of her views—he had a major commitment to public education—but he opposed many of the issues she believed in, like affirmative action and prayer in schools.

“Grace, how nice to see you again.” The silver-haired, six-foot five ex-college basketball star gave her a two-palm handshake. Mayor Haley reminded her of Rhett Butler. But unlike Butler, Haley had more style than substance. “Have a seat.”

City Hall may have been sixty years old, but the mayor's office appeared as if it had been decorated last week with designers hired straight from
Architectural Digest.
Grace wondered who paid for the mayor's taste.

“Been looking forward to this meeting, Councilwoman. You're a great addition to our city's government.”

Grace smiled. “I'm glad you feel that way, Mayor. I'd like you to look over this.” She slid the plastic-covered folder across the oversized desk.

He stared at the papers, but only for a moment before he looked up. She was surprised by the puzzled frown he wore.

“Mayor, I'm sure you're aware that I want to be appointed to the Education Committee, and with my experience, as well as my commitment to public education, I believe I can help make a difference in the public schools.”

The mayor leaned back in his chair and tapped the tips of his fingers together, squinting his eyes as if he were deep in thought.

“Grace, I didn't know you were interested in the Education Committee.”

Liar! She widened her smile. “That was the major issue of my campaign.”

“Still, your older child attends a private school. I didn't think your interest in public education was … well, I'll just say it. Real.”

She wondered how the media would spin the story if she just reached across the desk and punched him. “Mayor, during my campaign, I explained that the only reason my older daughter is in private school is that the high school in our district hasn't ranked well in the national standings. My younger child is in public school, and it is my intention to keep her there—by making sure she receives the same level of education and support that she would receive if she were in private school.”

The mayor nodded. “I understand, but, Grace, I'm not sure the people of Los Angeles will.”

“They understood enough to vote for me.”

“In your district. But I represent the entire city, and I have to make decisions that will benefit all.”

“I'm looking to improve the school system for every child, Mayor. No one in this city is more committed to our school system than I am.” She paused. “And anyone who has studied my record—without prejudice—knows that.”

She stared at him, daring him to say that he wasn't biased when it came to her. He stared back, challenging her to bring up the real issue: school prayer. It was no secret that Mayor Haley was trying to block the school prayer public hearings led by U.S. Senator Sanford, one of the most powerful Republican figures in the country, from coming to Los Angeles. He had often said that this issue was the quintessential example of how the church should be separated from the state.

Finally, he said, “I've given a lot of thought to where each of the new council members would do the most good. With this being my last term, I want to make a positive impact.”

“We have the same objective.”

He nodded. “Then we agree. With your background and expertise, you'll do much better on the Budget Committee.” He spoke as if she'd just been given a prize.

“With respect, Mayor, I don't see how I bring anything to the Budget Committee when I served ten years on the school board. During that time …”

He held up his hand. “I know your record, Grace, and that's why I'm pleased that you're part of my team.” He paused long enough to toss her a Hollywood smile. “But the committees have been set up.”

“It doesn't make sense.”

“I'll review the appointments next year, and maybe then …” He waved his hand as if the motion finished his thought.

The intercom buzzed.

“Excuse me.” He lifted the handset, and Grace allowed her eyes to roam the walls of the large room, lined with photos of mayors emeritus. She'd studied most of them, knowing their politics and what they'd done for the city. She wondered if there was even one who chose the people before politics.

A few seconds later, Mayor Haley hung up and stood. “Grace, I apologize. My next appointment is waiting.”

She raised her wrist and took a long glance at her watch.

“I know we didn't have much time,” the mayor said as he walked around his desk, moving to within inches of her. “But we're finished, aren't we?”

She looked up at him, straining her neck to take in his full height. She stood. “Thank you for your time, Mayor Haley.” She shook his hand.

His smile showed all of his teeth, and he pressed her hand between both of his. “My pleasure, Grace. And, let's revisit this next year.”

Grace turned and took one final look around. At least on the Budget Committee, she'd find out who paid for this furniture. He might regret his decision.

The mayor opened the door, and Grace almost bumped into Sara as she stepped into the mayor's office.

“Grace, good to see you,” Sara said, as if they hadn't spoken minutes before.

Grace turned to the mayor. “Thank you, again.” She nodded, then stomped past Sara, keeping her head high. It was going to take more than Rhett Butler and a horse's behind to stop her from putting her plans into action.

Conner tapped his fingers on the desk as he waited for the hospital operator to connect him. A few minutes later, he was taken off hold.

“Hello.”

“Pilar?” He stood. “I was calling your doctor. Why are you answering?”

“My doctor just left, but I've been awake most of the morning.”

“I wanted to talk to your doctor.”

“There's not much for him to tell. Last night, I kept throwing up, and I didn't want to be home alone with Solomon.”

“So what did your doctor say?”

She was quiet for a moment. “It's what's expected, Conner. There are no surprises.” The message was inside her words. “Conner, Solomon and I need to move as soon as I'm able to travel.”

Conner closed his eyes. Those were the words he wanted to hear. But his heart ached because his son came tagged with a high price.

“I'll handle everything.” He tried to keep the sadness from his voice. “I'll need information from your doctors.”

“That won't be a problem.” She stopped. “I've put you down as … the one to be contacted when …”

Conner swallowed. “Don't worry, Pilar. I'll take care of you and Solomon.”

Conner and Pilar reviewed all that she'd need: plane tickets, a real estate agent to sell her home, a nurse so that Solomon would never be alone if she got sick at home. Before she said good-bye, she promised to call if she thought of anything else. He agreed to do the same.

Conner stared at the telephone and tried to count the days since the first call had come from Pilar. He couldn't remember, but it didn't matter. There were too many plans to make, and it all began with his family.