Protect and Defend (58 page)

“Yes,” Kerry said with reluctance. “Something like that.”

“Short of
that
disaster,” Lara continued, “you’ll have pro-lifers holding rallies and news conferences, crawling all over talk radio, and elbowing each other to get on Rush Limbaugh, Charlie Rose, Ted Koppel, and every other interview show in America. There’ll be mass mailings of anti-Masters propaganda, a tidal wave of protest on the Internet, and a statement by all the bishops, archbishops, and cardinals of our church, denouncing the Tierney decision and, implicitly, you for being a rotten Catholic. And the
next
ads on ‘partial birth’ will be a lot more gory. Not to mention that Gage may find out that Caroline has a daughter.” She paused, speaking more quietly. “Of course, Clayton’s already told you that. And you—knowing you as I do—told
him
you’re willing to live with it. All that’s slowing you down is Chad. And
me
.”

The summary was so trenchant that Kerry emitted a mirthless laugh. “So,” Lara finished, “I guess you want my opinion. Whether or not I want to give it.”

Kerry was silent; there was no need to answer.

“The first time we talked about Caroline Masters,” Lara told him, “I said she struck me as a supercilious Wasp—not worth the trouble. In fact, I accused you of being drawn to her because
she’d
had
her
baby.

“Of course I hadn’t met her yet, but why let
that
stop me. And, of course, I
was
being a complete bitch.” To Kerry’s surprise, she kissed him. “So now I’m apologizing.”

“Why?”

“Because Caroline really is that good. And because she stuck her neck out for a teenage girl, whatever the risk to her own daughter. And to her.

“How am I supposed to feel, Kerry, if you drop her because of me? And what will
that
do to us?” She rested her forehead against his. “I love you, more than I can say. But I can’t live like I’m being blackmailed. So if you decide you can’t stand by her, make sure it’s about the risk to
you
. Not me.”

Curling his fingers, Kerry grazed her cheek. “And us?”

“I know I’ve been worried about becoming First Lady, perhaps too much. So there’s something I said last year, which I need to tell you this last time.” Pausing, Lara pressed his hand
to her face. “If the worst happens, I can hold my head up—if you can. It was my choice, after all.”

There was nothing else for Kerry to say. Or do, except to hold her.

“You should call Chad again,” she said at last. “It’s getting late.”

L
YING NEXT
to Allie, Chad Palmer ignored the telephone. “Whoever it is,” he told Allie, “I don’t want to hear from them. Unless it’s Kerry, telling me he’s pushed her off a bridge.”

Allie’s bedside lamp was on; neither could sleep. “It’s really
that
bad.”

Chad nodded. “Unless Kerry backs off. Gage wants me to reopen the hearings. Turn them into a morality play on partial birth abortion, with Masters in the role of baby-killer.”

Propped on her side, Allie regarded him with green-flecked eyes which expressed the worry of a wife and mother confronted with forces she could not control. “
Will
there be more hearings?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it. They’d be a nightmare—it was risky enough the
last
time, keeping the zealots who wanted to crawl through her life from seeing our own files.” Chad’s tone became sardonic. “At least
that
secret involved sex with a man. Harshman’s latest idea is that Masters and Sarah Dash are lovers, and her ruling in favor of Mary Ann Tierney was actually a crime of passion. Imagine
that
interrogation on national TV.”

Allie’s lips compressed in worry and distaste. “But you’re the chairman. Can’t you stop him? Or at least stop him from investigating Masters?”

“Not with Gage egging him on. I told Vic Coletti that the President ought to withdraw her. Not simply to avoid defeat, but also humiliation for both him
and
her.”

“Does Vic agree?”

“I hope so. He certainly sees why
I
don’t want more hearings, and not just because he knows I’ve been covering for her. Once I reopen them, we’d have to send her back to the full Senate with a positive or negative recommendation, or no recommendation at all. Unless I try to kill the nomination in committee without ever bringing it to the floor—which may be what Gage ends up wanting me to do.” Chad’s voice hardened. “That way her blood’s on
my
hands, not his.

“The pro-choice groups understand that. So they want
me
to stand in his way. All day they were like a recorded message: Gage may be a right-wing lackey, but I’m not, so I should let him be ‘anti-woman’ by himself. Some Republican pro-choice women even hinted they support me for President— as if me becoming their poster boy isn’t exactly what Gage wants.”

“And the pro-lifers?”

There was no point, with Allie, in telling less than the truth. “Were worse,” Chad acknowledged. “
They
want to know why I supported an antifamily judicial activist, and want
me
to know I’ll never be President if she gets on the Court. In case I missed that, Barry Saunders sent black lilies. The only question is whose ‘death’ he has in mind—Mary Ann Tierney’s baby’s, or mine.”

Allie took his hand. “These people have always made my skin crawl, Chad. But now they really scare me.”

Chad gazed at their hands, locked together, and felt the complexity of their bond, the fear that neither spoke aloud. “With good reason,” he said quietly. “They’ll use anything they dig up, on anyone who’s in their way. This is one they can’t afford to lose.

“The media knows it, too. Bob Novak inquired if it’s true I’m stiffing Gage, and wimping out on the right to life—cued by Mac himself, no doubt. Then Tony Lewis called to ask if I’m preparing to confront the Commitment head on. They’re looking for me to drive the story.”

Chad felt her hand squeeze tighter. “
Those
guys I can deal with,” he told her. “It’s the sleazemongers who could hurt us.”

Involuntarily, it seemed to Chad, Allie glanced at Kyle’s picture. “Do your friends see any way out of this?”

“They’re only focused on the politics, of course. Tom Ballinger says the Christian Right is losing ground, and that anyhow there’s nothing I can do to please them. But Kate Jarman thinks there’s no way I win the nomination without helping the Commitment get Masters.” Chad’s tone became mordant. “Kate asked a pungent question: What happens to me if the Tierney girl has an abortion, and her fetus turns out to have a cerebral cortex?”

For an instant Allie appeared stunned. “They’d find that out?”

“The Commitment would surely try, so they could give it to the press. Unless I help take Masters down, that
would ruin
me.” His voice softened. “I can see the spot they’d run against me in the primaries, showing the Gerber baby with an
X
across his face.”

Though Allie was quite still, Chad could see the tension in her body. Torn between hope and doubt, she said, “Kerry wouldn’t risk
that
, either.”

Chad shook his head. “Don’t be too sure. Suppose the fetus turns out to be a mess. Then
we’ll
have gone after Masters for protecting a fifteen-year-old girl, and Kerry will go after
us
without a trace of mercy.

“I know him—he’s already thought about that. It may not look good for Masters now, but Kerry’s a nervy bastard. No one in American politics can raise the furies like he can—pro
or
con. And he doesn’t know what that might mean to us.”

Fearful, Allie asked, “How can you avoid that?”

“The best way is to oppose her, then somehow persuade Gage to put her to an immediate vote on the Senate floor, rather than send the nomination back to my committee. That might put an end to this before anyone else gets hurt.” Chad’s voice became clipped. “Maybe Mac will see the virtue of pursuing a summary execution. If he strings this out too long he may get a baby without a brain, instead of Matthew Brown.”

Allie glanced sharply at him. “I know,” Chad reassured her in a milder tone. “We both hope for this girl’s sake that her son
is
hopeless, so this isn’t even worse for her. But whatever he turns out to be, it won’t be Mary Ann’s private tragedy. It’ll be
a political land mine, throwing shrapnel everywhere. All I can do is try to keep us out of the way.”

Allie’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Chad.”

Her husband mustered a smile. “At least for a politician, you mean.”

“At least.” Gently, Allie touched his face. “You knew someday it might haunt you, and still you put our daughter first.”

The moment was burned into Chad’s memory: the naked boy stumbling across the darkened lawn; turning to his daughter, who was naked as well, and shivering with fear and anger. He could smell the wine on her breath.

“
You fuck
.” Kyle’s voice was slurred. “I love him.
Him
, not you.”

Like a burst of light, the horror of what was happening cut through Chad’s fury. “Kyle,” he said in a tightened voice, “you’re drunk. Get dressed.”

There was a sound behind him. From the shadows of their living room, Kyle gaped at the front door.

Turning, Chad saw his wife. She stared at them, trying to comprehend.

“That weasel Eric,” Chad managed to say. “I found them on the rug …”

“You
humiliated me
,” Kyle screamed. “You shit …”

“Shut up.” Chad turned on her, anger spinning out of control. “I find you fucking him in our living room like some slut in an alley, drunk out of your mind. You’ve humiliated
us
— and yourself. That boy is scum …”

In hysteria, Kyle whirled, grabbing a vase off the coffee table. As she jerked her arm back to throw, Allie stepped between them.

“Stop it,” she demanded. “Both of you.”

“Eric
loves
me,” Kyle burst out. “He’s the only one who does.”

“He’d ‘love’ anything,” her father snapped, “that spread its legs for him. And you’re pathetic enough to do it.”

Allie turned on him. “
Stop
, Chad.” Her voice was choked, but still controlled. “I’m telling you to stop.”

Chad could see the desperation in Allie’s eyes, and a mother’s instinctive resolve—somehow she would salvage
this, if only she could stop them now. Chad’s shoulders sagged.

Seeing this, Allie turned to Kyle. Softly, she said, “Go upstairs, and get dressed. I’ll be up to talk to you.”

Irresolute, Kyle stared at her parents, torn between shame and fury. “Go ahead,” Allie told her.

Slowly, the girl turned and started up the staircase, gripping the banister for balance. After a few steps, she turned to her father. “You
ruined
it,” she said.

Allie gripped Chad’s arm. The girl climbed the stairs.

Silent, Allie flicked on a light, staring in disbelief at Eric’s clothes on the living room rug. “You pushed him out the door,” she said in wonder. “Naked …”

“Somehow,” Chad retorted, “I don’t think his parents will be calling to complain.”

“What about
Kyle
…”

“What
about
her?” At once Chad felt the raw misery Kyle had brought them—the lying, the drugs and self-absorption, and felt the visceral wish that she had never been born. “
Look
at what she’s done, what she’s doing to us. She’s become this sinkhole, dragging both of us down with her.”

Allie gripped his shoulder. “
Don’t
,” she spat. “Don’t say anything more.” After a moment, voice low again, Allie continued, “She’s our daughter. She’s our daughter, and we’ll have to find a way.”

Looking at his wife, her face haggard with emotion, Chad felt a terrible weariness. “How?” he asked. “A new psychiatrist? Or just this endless, helpless, hopeless patience, where we’re social workers, not parents, and she’s responsible for nothing.”

“I don’t know.” Allie’s tone had a repressed shrillness. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m gone for three hours, and I come home to find you here, and more damage than Kyle could do alone.” Pausing, Allie tried to control her voice. “Why are you here, Chad? I thought you were in Washington.”

“I was.” Remembering his impulsive flight home, his pleasure at imagining Allie’s pleasure, Chad felt the foolishness of his own words. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Allie closed her eyes. “You did, Chad. You surely did. And now you can go back.”

Chad flinched. The unfairness of it hit him hard, the sense of separateness ever since his release from captivity, of having become superfluous. “If she’s our daughter,” he answered, “then I must be her father. You can’t just fire me—or is that what you want?”

Opening her eyes, Allie gripped the lapels of his suit coat. “No, Chad. It’s not what I want. What I want is time to deal with this, before you two hurt each other even more. Please.”

In the morning, Chad was gone. When next he saw his daughter, she was pregnant.

Kyle sat at the kitchen table. Bending, he kissed her forehead. She did not look up at him, or speak.

Turning to Allie, Chad saw her nod toward the sunroom. He followed her there.

He closed the glass doors, and they sat on the sofa. The Saturday morning was bright with spring; on their lawn, which Chad saw through the window, two squirrels ran up an oak tree. A frayed rope still hung where Kyle’s tire swing once had been; Chad could recall pushing her, her childish shrieks of delight.

“What now?” he murmured to Allie. “What now?”

She looked at him guardedly. “An abortion, Chad—to start.”

Chad’s returning gaze was steady. “I don’t believe in it …”

“That’s politics, Chad. This is Kyle.”

“It’s not just politics. I happen to believe this is a life, even if the father’s an evolutionary cul-de-sac.” Chad felt a sudden, visceral anger. “Where
is
good old Eric, by the way? Has he found the clothes, or the guts, to show his face? Or is he making her deal with this alone?”

“Yes.” Allie’s voice was tired. “He’s dropped her, as you predicted. Kyle’s devastated.”