Party Lines (14 page)

She
was entering traffic and told Clara she had to go. Turning north, she sped
through the other cars and headed for the exit. The further away she got from
the city, the better she felt. There were no easy answers, but what answers
there
were
she hoped she could find at the cabin.

***

He
arrived at her building by cab, handing the driver a fifty without even looking
at it. “Keep the change,” he said as he exited. Normally, Ron was meticulous
about money and always counted his change. But he had more on his mind today.

A
new doorman was standing sentry when he reached the building.

“Whoa,
whoa, whoa young man,” he said officiously as Ron moved to rush past. “This is
a private building. You can’t just go up
..
”

Ron
wanted to tell the man that the last doorman had been more accommodating but
held his tongue. “Would you please ring Lindsay Martin and let her know she has
a visitor.”

“It
won’t do any good,” the doorman said. “You just missed her.”

“Missed
her?” Ron jammed his hands in his pockets and turned around, exasperated. Then
he turned back to the doorman. “Where’d she go?”

“I
don’t know,” the old man said. “The residents don’t generally leave an
itinerary with the doorman.” There was an edge of sarcasm to his voice. “Besides,
even if Ms. Martin had given me that information I wouldn’t share it with you.”

Ron
bit back a retort, knowing his anger was being misdirected. The man was just
doing his job, even if he seemed to be enjoying it a bit too much.

So
Ron turned and hailed another taxi.

“Where
to?” the driver asked as Ron climbed in the back seat.

He
sat there for a moment. “You know, I’m not sure. Hold on a second. Let me make
a phone call.”

“Alright,”
the driver said, his accent heavy. “But meter is running.”

Ron
rolled his eyes. “You let me worry about that,” he said.

***

“You’re
the last person I expected to see today.” Clara Faircloth sat down on her sofa
across from Ron Sharp. He was looking nervous and holding the teacup she’d
given him balanced on one knee of his long leg. “I figured you’d be with
Lindsay.”

“Why
did you figure that?” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

“It’s
alright,” she said. “I know about the relationship. Lindsay told me the day the
article came out. At the time, of course, she thought you were the one who’d
gone to the Times with the information about her. She blamed herself for
hurting me by getting involved with you. She even tried to quit on me, but I
wouldn’t let her. I told her I wasn’t going to let her end her career because
of something some man did to her.”

“I
didn’t do it.” Ron said.

Clara
looked at him, her expression serious and intense. “I hope you’re being honest
with me, Mr. Sharp,” she said. “And it’s not because I’m concerned about the
politics. I’m concern at this moment is for Lindsay. She – well, we –
both believe you didn’t do this. But I need to hear it from you. I need to look
into your eyes when you tell me that you didn’t betray her like that.”

Ron
put his cup down and leaned forward, locking eyes with Clara Faircloth. “Ms.
Faircloth, I did not do this. I would not have done it. And if I’d have known
it was going to happen I would have done everything in my power to stop it.” He
paused. “This isn’t some fling I’m having with Lindsay. I love her.”

For
a moment the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock. Then
Clara smiled and nodded.

“I
believe you,” she said. “And I’m glad, for both you and Lindsay. It’s a fine
thing to find love, and the two of you will no doubt have an interesting life,
given your differences. After all, who wants to spend their life with someone
who always agrees with them?”

Ron
exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Getting absolution from
Clara Faircloth had been important to him, especially now that the veil of
political ambition had been lifted enough for him to see
who
she really was. Despite her liberal views on things, she was honest, caring and
fair – all the things Hopkins was not.

“Where
is she, Clara?” He looked at her with near desperation. “I need to see her.”

“She’s
taking some time to herself,” Clara replied. “She asked me to tell you that if
you inquired.”

He
stood from his chair. “I don’t want to wait,” he said. “I need to see her now.
Please.” He smiled a sad smile. “I’m a desperate man, Ms. Faircloth.”

Clara
walked over and looked out the window.

“It’s
so nice today,” she said. “If I had the day off I’d go to the lake and stay at
my cabin. It’s quite secluded, standing there on the rocky shore amid those
towering firs.
A good place to think.
A good place to
reconnect.”

Ron
smiled. He didn’t thank Clara. That would come later, when he returned here
with the woman he loved.

***

134
Cedar Way was indeed a secluded location. Clara’s cabin sat tucked back on what
would have been a busy cul-de-sac had she not had the foresight to buy up every
lot on the street back before the lake became a popular and exclusive resort.
Now the cabin sat back off a side road quite by itself.

The
private boat slip in the back was home to one watercraft – a green canoe.
It was in that boat that Lindsay had spent most of the late morning, looking
out over the glassy surface of the lake as she enjoyed the soothing rocking
motion of the small waves that lapped the shoreline.

She’d
needed this, she told herself. In fact, this was really all she needed when she
got down to it. A man in her life would be nice, but there were just so many
complications. She really didn’t have time for a relationship. And besides, now
that she’d had a taste of what it was like to be a dominant man, she didn’t
think anything else – or anyone else – would satisfy
her the
way Ron had in such a short time.

Lindsay
rowed the canoe back over the dock and turned it backwards to guide it to the
piling. After a few hours on the water, she looked forward to sitting on the
cabin’s
big screened in back porch and watching the sun
shift over the lake.

She
climbed out of the canoe and dropped a loop of rope over the piling to secure
the craft.

“Thanks,”
she said to the canoe. “I needed that.”

“Talking
to inanimate objects is a sure sign of loneliness.” Ron was standing at the
edge of the dock, hands in his pockets. A small smile played on his lips. “I’ve
come to remedy the problem.”

They
regarded each other in silence for a moment.

“How
did you find me? Did you bribe someone again?”

“Not
everyone needs to be bribed,” Ron said. “Sometimes people give up information
because they know it’s the right thing to do.”

“Clara.”
Lindsay shook her head.

“She
loves you, Lindsay. And she wants what’s best for you. If she didn’t think I
was what you needed do you really think she would have told me where you’d
gone?”

Lindsay
sighed. It was a good point.

“Would
you like to go inside?” she asked. “To talk. Just to talk. No promises of
anything else.”

“I
wasn’t expecting anything else,” he said. “To just talk to you is more than I
can even expect given what you’ve been through.
”

Lindsay
turned, and tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, began walking up
the pier and towards the cabin. Ron followed in silence, praying for the right
words to come to him, praying for Lindsay to understand that he had nothing to
do with her outing by the Times.

Inside
the cabin, she walked to the kitchen and put on a pot of water for tea.

“You
can sit down,” she said to Ron, indicating the nearby table.

Ron
walked to the table, but before he could sit down he turned. “I didn’t do it,
Lindsay. You have to believe me.”

“I
do believe you,” she said sadly, but when he rushed to Lindsay to take her in
his arms, she stepped back.

“What’s
wrong?” he asked,
then
felt stupid for asking. “Wait,
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t rush you. You’ve been through a lot
..
”

“It’s
not that,” she said sadly. “It’s just that…”

“What?”
His arms ached to hold her, to ease her fears.

“I’m
scared Ron,” she said. “There’s no two ways to put it.” Behind her, as if
emphasizing that fear, the teakettle began to scream. Lindsay turned around and
pulled it from the burner. She’d already placed tea bags in two cups and now
poured the water in to steep them.

“There’s
nothing to be afraid of,” he said gently. “Not now. They can’t hurt you
anymore. And you have no reason to be afraid of me.”

Lindsay
shook her head. “I’m not afraid of Hopkins or his tricks or he media. I’m not
afraid of you. I’m afraid of myself. When I first allowed myself to feel
– to live – my submission it was an intensely liberating feeling.
But then after all that stuff happened with the story I realized how trusting I
had been, and how vulnerable a woman leaves herself when she puts herself
wholly in the hands of another.”

“But
I didn’t do it,” Ron protested.

“It
doesn’t matter, Ron. Don’t you understand that? No, you didn’t do it. But you
could have.  It would have been so easy because I’d exposed myself so
willingly.” She ran a finger around the rim of her teacup. “I can’t help but
think that it might be unhealthy after all.”

“Did
you feel unhealthy when we were together sharing the dynamic that we shared?”

Lindsay
smiled at the memory.

“No,”
she said with a sigh. “I felt whole.”

Then
she interrupted him when he moved to affirm the statement. “But just because
something feels right at the moment or pleasant doesn’t mean it’s a wise
choice, Ron. I mean
,
drugs make you feel good. But
they can also ruin your life.”

He
stood there, looking at her. “Is that what you really think, Lindsay? That
living in a dominant/submissive relationship with me would ruin your life?”

“I
just think it could be potentially dangerous.”

“Sure,
if you went and gave your submission to just any man. Because you’re right;
there are men out there who would be more than willing to accept it and leave
you broken and cynical. But Lindsay, I am not one of those men. I realize how
what an incredible gift submission is because I’m a dominant man – and by
dominant man I don’t mean someone who’s looking for some little bootlicking
female, but a real man who knows a smart, capable woman who gives something
like that to man is paying him the highest honor there is.”

He
looked down at his tea and shook his head in regret. “I know that I probably
gave you reasons to doubt whether I was that kind of man by working for
Hopkins. But you should know that the real reason I quit today in the manner I
did wasn’t just because I wanted to punish him for what he did to you, but
because I wanted to be worthy to come here and say what I want to say.”

Lindsay
felt a lump in her throat. “What did you want to say?” she asked, her voice
barely above a whisper.

“That
I love you,” he said. “That I love you body and soul, and I want to devote the
rest of my life to cherishing you.
To guiding you.
To
protecting you.”

Lindsay
shook her head. “What are you saying?”

“I’m
saying I want you to marry me,” he said. “And don’t think I’m crazy. I know you
are what I want. And Lindsay, I know you want me too.” He stood and dropped
down to one knee. “Say yes, Lindsay. Say yes and I promise to spend every day
of the rest of my life proving myself to be the kind of man, husband and leader
you preserve.”

Lindsay
opened her mouth to speak but no words would come for a moment. But finally she
found her voice.

“So
this is what it feels like?” she said. “For those princesses of old when the
knights came to claim them. I always wondered how they felt, locked in the
tower and waiting. I always wondered what it would be like to finally see him
there, and know…”

Lindsay
fell into his arms and they kissed, deeply and ardently.

“This
is crazy,” she said when their lips parted. Lindsay was laughing and crying by
turns. “I was ready to move on, Ron. I didn’t think we could…”

“Nonsense,”
he said. “You knew we could work.”

He
picked her up. “And you know what? For even entertaining those kind of doubts,
you deserved to be punished.”

She
looked at him, her eyes teasing. “Well,” she said. “If you think you’re man
enough for the job, then have at it.”