Queen of Ruin, page 8
“Sounds quaint,” she smiles, tossing the towel on the counter.
12
Everything In Due Time
Darren
“You didn’t tell me that Langley was presenting the plaque!” We pass the Quad into the heart of Georgetown University.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t come,” Rausch grits his teeth.
“You’re fucking right I wouldn’t.”
“Keep your voice down, Darren,” he scolds me. “Sometimes you have to put your personal feelings aside for such an occasion.”
“My personal feelings? This isn’t a schoolyard tiff, Rausch.”
“He was your father’s friend, and a colleague in the Senate. The University asked him, and it would have raised questions if you refused,” Rausch explains.
“You know I don’t care about perception.”
“You don’t need to remind me of that,” Rausch groans behind a fake smile as the university president approaches us.
“Everything in due time, Darren,” Rausch laments in a low voice while plastering a smile on his face, and I do the same.
“We’re honored to have you here today.” The university president extends his hand for me to shake.
I never met him before. Georgetown wasn’t like boarding school where indiscretions warranted a trip to the Dean’s office.
“I was very sorry to hear about your parents passing.” He lets go of my hand while the courtyard begins to fill, and chatter echoes off the stone walkways.
“Thank you,” I say politely.
“The university thought this was the best way to honor both your father and mother, who were distinguished alumnus.” He gestures to the Law Alumni Lounge, which has been transformed into a non-profit law clinic bearing my last name: Walker Memorial Law Clinic. “Especially with such a large donation to the University,” he explains.
There is one thing my father was proud of, and that was his legacy – the work he did as a lawyer to help people. When I look at the clinic, I feel a lump in my throat, a feeling of immense pride that takes me by surprise.
I try to ignore the shame that blooms inside me as I look around at this University that I had taken advantage of, and dare I say… squandered.
I clear my throat. “I can speak for both of them when I say they would have been honored.”
When he starts to explain the sequence of events, the ceremony of cutting the ribbon, a commemorative plaque presentation – the mention of Jonathan Langley curdling my stomach – I tune him out, especially when I know Rausch is taking notes like a teacher’s pet.
In the distance I catch a glimpse of Evangeline, her attention focused on the expansive courtyard boxed in by buildings with stone paths weaving their way around campus.
“Will you excuse me?” I interrupt him.
“Darren!” I hear Rausch calling after me, but I pay him no mind as I take my place next to her.
“It’s much more beautiful in spring when the tulips bloom,” I entreat.
“It looks like it belongs in a Jane Austen novel,” she laughs, gesturing to the gothic style building, a spire peeking out and lifting to the clear blue sky.
I look around the courtyard and remember the first time I set foot on the campus.
“And to think it was nearly extinguished by the Civil War.” I tuck my hands inside the pockets of my jacket, the chilly fall air carried in from the Potomac whips between the buildings. “Most of the students enlisted,” I raise my eyebrows, “both Union and Confederate forces.”
“Is that something they teach you during orientation?” she teases.
“Along with the Hoyas fight song,” I tease back.
“What is a Hoya? Some kind of mystical animal?” she jests.
“I assure you it’s nothing as exciting as that. It’s derived from Hoya Saxa,” I explain.
“What does it mean?”
“The literal translation is ‘what rocks’.”
She adjusts the lapels of my wool jacket, pulling them tighter around my chest. “You look very handsome.” She smooths down an errant piece of hair from my forehead. “You wouldn’t want anything to mar that.”
“Is this your way of asking me to behave?” I ponder, noticing her gaze over my shoulder towards the podium.
“It looks like you’re being summoned.”
“Rausch is probably having heart palpitations right now,” I laugh.
“You better go then.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re taking enjoyment at my discomfort at having to make a public appearance.”
She loops her arm through mine and we walk towards the chairs that have been set up.
“Perhaps you’re very good at pretending to hate these things.”
She stops at the row where a place card rests on the seat with her name on it.
“I would enjoy it better if Langley weren’t giving the plaque,” I grouse through gritted teeth. “If I had known ahead of time, I wouldn’t have accepted.” Anger slicks over my skin at just the thought of his hands on her.
“Don’t let him taint something that will help a lot of people.”
“I think your charitable nature is rubbing off on me. Alistair would be appalled,” I joke, and that garners me a laugh.
I place a kiss on the top her head before I make my way to the front where Rausch’s furrowed brow threatens to make me turn back around.
While Dr. Baines stands at the podium and makes introductions, Rausch leans closer to me and whispers in my ear, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You’re lack of faith in me is disappointing. I’m a grown up, Rausch.” I smooth out the lapels of my coat while staring towards the other side of the courtyard where Jonathan Langley stands.
“That’s debatable, Darren. Just remember why you’re here – for your parents.”
“Help me in welcoming a distinguished member of Congress, Senator Jonathan Langley.” Dr. Baines steps aside and I watch as Langley walks toward the podium, waving to the small camera crew that’s covering the dedication.
No doubt Rausch can feel me stiffen beside him, anger wafting off me like the earthy algae smell of the nearby Potomac, and he clears his throat as if to provide a reminder to behave.
I was never good at behaving though, so when Langley finishes his speech about working alongside my father, and how much my mother gave back to the community, I stride across the stone pathway towards him with a determined look.
He holds the plaque out to me with one hand and the other outstretched to shake mine. I stare at it, and knowing what I know about him, I think about spitting on it, but instead take it firmly – maybe a little too firmly. Perhaps it’s funny since Langley has a few good inches on me. Granted, I might be a little bit bigger than I was in college, but youth is on my side.
I shake his hand rather vigorously, while I lean and say, “Looks like your nose healed nicely.”
He looks towards the flashing cameras, a politician’s smile plastered on his face, and I wonder how in the world anyone couldn’t see past it. “You certainly made your parents proud marrying a prostitute.” He grabs hold of my forearm and pulls me in further as if to give me a hug.
I can feel the anger burn through me as I grip his hand even tighter, fighting to hold on even though my palms are sweating.
“What did you think you would accomplish by releasing those photos, ruining my father’s reputation by making the public think he cheated on my mother with Evangeline?” I accuse nastily, trying my best to keep a smile. “Were you just jealous that you had to hire her so she’d be in the same room with you?”
“Did she tell you my fingers were in her cunt? She was practically begging for it.” So help me God, it takes everything inside of me not to punch him right here in front of everyone.
He pulls me in closer, whispering in my ear. “I was never in competition with your father, especially when it came to that. Rausch knows that better than anyone. He and your father were very close, weren’t they?” He looks over my shoulder.
“He was a better friend than you,” I retort through gritted teeth even though I’m a bit confused by his accusations.
Langley rips his hand from mine. “Sure, if you want to call it that.”
I take the plaque as Langley stalks off, but not without taking the opportunity to give a wave and a smile to the cameras. I’m left in front of the podium bewildered and sweaty. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I manage to focus on the plaque.
This honor is bestowed upon Kerry Walker and Merrill Compton-Walker for their distinguished service in law and community.
Remembering why I’m here, I turn to look at the clinic, a red ribbon stretched across its door just waiting to be ceremoniously cut.
Clearing my throat, I manage to say, “My mother would politely accept this honor with grace and remind you that our lives are not measured by what we have, but by what we give.”
I look to my left where Rausch stands at the side of the makeshift stage. His proudful eyes bore into me.
“I was trying to think of what my father would say if he were here to accept this honor, but he would probably bore you with one of his speeches about Emerson and politics. He was always good at veering off topic, which I suppose I inherited from him – probably one of the only things I inherited.” The crowd laughs.
In order to ground myself, I look out at the crowd and lock eyes with Evangeline.
“You might ask what Emerson has to do with politics or even law for that matter, and my father would simply say – everything – leaving you to ponder and wanting more. He was always good about making you want more.”
I take a deep breath.
“I think I know what he meant.” I hear people shifting in their seats. “And perhaps I am more like my father than I thought, because I will leave you with this – It is not the length of life, but the depth,” I grip the podium tightly, “and both my parents lived deeply.”
13
I’m No Lady
Evangeline
“I spy something blue.”
“I don’t want to play anymore,” Darren grumbles with a petulant tone.
“That’s because you’ve lost the last three rounds,” I tease, watching as he grips the steering wheel with obvious annoyance, which is actually quite cute.
“I think you’re cheating,” he accuses. “And you’re trying to distract me.”
I sit up and drop my feet from the dash. “I do not cheat!”
“There’s no other explanation,” Darren declares, shaking his head and taking a brief moment to peer over at me.
I press a palm to my chest. “I am deeply offended.” I flop back into my seat while Darren chuckles. “And is it working?” I lift an eyebrow.
“I won’t dignify you with what Langley said to me at the dedication,” Darren laments.
“Then don’t, and stop thinking about it.”
“He said he was never in competition with my father,” he scoffs. “What a lie.”
“Darren,” I warn.
“Yes, dear.” He bats his eyelashes at me, and I turn his face back to the road.
“Just concentrate on driving. By the way, are we almost there?” I ask.
“It’s the same answer I gave you five minutes ago,” he says with an annoyed tone.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off.
We’ve been in the car for nearly four hours, and the countless games of I Spy, and guess what the vanity plate says, have run their course, especially since traffic has thinned, leaving behind big cities the further south we go. I’ve never been in this part of the country, and I watch as the scenery passes, with its rolling green hills and deep green forests.
I can see the tilt of his lip while he concentrates on driving and place my socked feet back on the dash, daring him to protest or push them off.
The sign up ahead points towards Clarksville as Darren exits the highway, turning onto a two-lane road that passes an old gas station and a few scattered houses before driving over a long bridge to get into downtown. The street is lined with stores on both sides. It looks like one of those quaint towns that you only see in movies, with brick buildings and green awnings with names like Sara’s Stationary, and Bella’s Bloom’s, written on them.
Even though Darren slows to a near crawl, it only takes what feels like a minute to reach the end of the block, and I crane my neck to read the sign on one of the stores, The Sweetest Secret.
“My mom used to take me there for ice cream in the summers,” Darren sighs, the store winking out of view as he turns the corner.
“It looks cute.” I turn back to Darren.
“I’ll take you there once we get settled,” Darren promises with a wan smile, and I’m eager to explore, but more eager to get out of the car because I’m tired of sitting for so long.
“Just like you promised to stop in Richmond so I could see the Edger Allen Poe Museum?”
“I missed the turn!”
“Liar.”
“Okay, you got me. I have no desire to see a museum dedicated to a man with terminal paranoia,” he spouts.
“But it’s Edgar Allen Frickin’ Poe!” I state, waving my hands in the air in frustration.
“Has anyone told you that you talk with your hands too much? I thought that was a Jersey thing.”
“How’s this for a hand gesture?” I give him the middle finger.
He laughs and shakes his head. “That’s not very ladylike.”
“I think you know by now, Darren, that I’m no lady.” I smile wickedly, and Darren licks his lips while gripping the steering wheel tighter.
We turn down a back road into a heavily wooded area full of tall pines, and glimpses of water glittering like diamonds between the tree trunks. It’s only a short drive before I can see a house up ahead. When the road curves and the trees open to give me a full view of the house, I realize it doesn’t live up to Darren’s description.
“That’s not a log cabin.” I point at the house with my mouth shamelessly gaping open.
“There’re logs,” Darren comments flippantly, as he pulls into the drive.
“Yeah, there’re logs, but that’s far from a cabin. I pictured something that looked like an outhouse,” I tease.
Darren laughs. “Kerry and Merrill Walker staying in an outhouse?” He makes a face. “Now that would be something,” he muses.
As soon as Darren stops the car, I open the door and step out. The house is made of wood logs, but there’s also a portico with large wood beams and stone walls that are offset by an interesting green metal roof. I thought the Georgetown house was beautiful, but this property is… magical.
“It’s amazing.” I grab my bag from Darren, following him to the front door.
He stops at the threshold, as if there’s an invisible barrier preventing him from stepping inside. I peer past him and spot an open book and a pair of glasses next to the couch. It’s as if they’re waiting for Kerry to come back and pick up where he left off.
Where the Georgetown home is all crown molding, grand chandeliers, and screams old money, this place is rich colors and inviting plush fabrics.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I lay a hand on Darren’s shoulder to bring his attention back to me.
He leaves his bag in the entryway as he moves forward, running a hand through his hair.
“Years.” He flinches slightly at the admission, his voice thick with guilt.
I follow Darren through open living area that leads to the back patio where he slides open the glass door, letting in the cool crisp air that smells like pine, and carries with it the hint of winter. The large deck looks out to a clearing, and in the distance is a pier.
“He closed everything up for the winter,” Darren sighs with a disappointed tone. I gather that’s something he wasn’t expecting.
There are no sounds of traffic, only the occasional rustle of trees and birdsong in the distance, as if we’re tucked away from the rest of the world.
Darren stands in the middle of the manicured lawn with the backdrop of grand pines behind him, and his eyes are trained on me, the hint of something dark and needy that sets my pulse racing. I’m imaging him cutting wood and doing outdoorsy things with humor,
He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the stylish jacket across his chest.
“What’s so funny?” he demands.
“I was just picturing you chopping wood in a flannel,” I laugh.
“And you find that funny?”
I nod.
“I’ll have you know,” Darren wiggles his finger in the air, “that I have, in fact, chopped wood before.”
I place my hands on my hips and stare at him disbelievingly.
After a moment, Darren concedes. “I didn’t say I was good at it,” he smiles.
“Does this mean once the wood runs out, we’re going to freeze to death?” I question, pointing to the pile by the side of the house.
“Of course not.” Darren rolls his eyes. “The house has a heater.”
The seriousness with which he says it has me giggling, and Darren grabs hold of me. My stomach twists into knots like the remnants of wisteria that travel along the forest bed and make their way up the sides of the trees, their progress suspended by the impending winter.
“If you want me to wear a flannel,” he smiles, tightening his arm around my waist, “I will.”
Darren stares down at me, his eyes full of mischief, almost willing me to make another smartass comment, and I’m only too happy to oblige.
“Then you’ll have to give me the keys to the car,” I explain, and Darren raises both eyebrows in question. “In case you chop off a finger and I have to drive you to the hospital.” I can’t keep the laughter down that keeps bubbling up inside of me.
Darren gives me a shake and I squeal in response.
