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“What if I am?”
“What if you are—what?”
“One of those bad people.”
I figure he’ll smile, but he doesn’t. He just shakes his head. “You’re not,” he says.
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Three years in Afghanistan taught me when to trust my gut.”
“And your gut says I’m a good person?” I’m amused by this. I’m not sure why.
“My gut says to trust Drew. He’s never wrong. So if Drew says you’re good, you’re good.”
I want to tell him that trusting Drew is a bad, bad idea, but instead I reply with, “And if other people say I’m bad?”
“I don’t care what other people say. All you need is one clear-headed person who has good instincts. You find one like that, you hang onto them and follow them anywhere.”
He stands and offers me his hand, pulling me up.
I start walking, slowly, down to the beach, where I run six miles before my cheek stops burning.
Chapter 30
I’m back at home, grabbing a glass of water, when I hear someone come in behind me.
“I’m sorry.” Mom’s words make me do a double-take. Daddy’s behind her and his face is stone.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t make me say it again, Lindsay. I said I’m sorry.” Her mouth purses, throat shifting with a dry swallow. “I should never have slapped you like that.”
Daddy and I share a look. I’m about to apologize to him for the same action when he shakes his head slightly. Ah. Mom doesn’t know I slapped him.
“I forgive you,” I say.
Mom’s face fills with true emotion. She can be an automaton most of the time, but sometimes I think she’s that way because it’s too hard to feel all her feelings and play the role of senator’s wife.
Soon to be president’s wife.
Her hug feels good. Authentic. We laugh a little and settle into an uneasy peace. By lunchtime, she offers to have me eat with her, a rare invitation. Mom is the queen of the power lunch. We have to take separate cars because she has an event after. That’s the old norm. She squeezed in time for me between senator’s wife obligations. We drive there in separate cars.
I haven’t driven in four years. I narrowly missed being unable to renew my driver’s license while living on the Island, but I made it happen. I go super-slow and take main roads that aren’t highways. I make it there just fine.
Within five minutes I realize that I’m just another power lunch to her. This meal is not a mother-daughter bonding session.
“Your father told me how upset you are about not feeling heard,” she says while she picks at her arugula, apple and gorgonzola salad. I’m eating the same thing, except I’ve slathered mine in olive oil vinaigrette and parmesan cheese. Mom eyes my loaded fork with envy.
She’s determined to drop ten pounds this month before Daddy declares his run for the White House.
I nod. I don’t know how to respond.
“We can’t change what already happened. And your father and I did what we thought was best at the time.”
If I had a dollar for every time one of them said that to me...well, I’d have a hundred bucks or so, I guess.
My phone buzzes as Mom starts to say something else. I ignore it. Must be Jane. She’s the only person who has this number, other than Daddy, Mom, and Drew’s security people.
