Truth Be Told (32 page)

G
race moved in front of the window, though she kept her eyes outside on the steps leading into city hall. She didn't expect to see any reporters. Most would park underground, then take the elevators to the press room.

She wondered if it would have been better to have the conference outside on Sixth Street. The city sounds of passing buses and honking cars would have been allies, drowning out her reluctant words.

There was a quick knock on the door, and Zoë walked in with a cup in her hand. “I thought you'd want some coffee.” Grace nodded and took the mug. “We have five minutes.”

“How many people are there?”

Zoë shrugged. “The room was half-full. But Sara Spears is there. Camping in her front-row seat.”

Grace's sigh wasn't one of surprise. What was surprising was that when she'd searched the newspapers this morning, there was nothing about her pending announcement. Still, over coffee, she and Conner had pondered just what Sara knew. It had been four days since she'd called, and her silence was more ominous than when she was prancing in public.

Her cell phone rang, and she took it from her purse.

“Sweetheart, it's me. How're you?”

She inhaled. “Okay. It starts in a few minutes.”

“I wish I was there. I could have waited out of sight.”

“With reporters, there is no such thing.” Grace chuckled. “If I'm asking them to keep my family out of the news, we can't give them a picture of us leaving this place.”

Zoë tapped her finger against her watch.

“Conner, I have to go.”

“I'll be praying. Call me.” A short pause. “I love you.”

He hung up before she could respond, and Grace took a final sip of her coffee. Zoë took her hand. They bowed their heads and prayed. When they finished, Zoë said, “You're going to be terrific, like always.”

Grace smiled her appreciation, then walked through the connecting door to the press room. The murmurs silenced when she entered.

Zoë took a front-row seat as Grace positioned the microphone. She raised her head and looked into the crowd that eyed her with curious expectation.

She recognized many of the reporters—most had followed her campaign. Several of her fellow council members filled the last row, though she knew it was curiosity rather than support that had brought them.

Grace glanced at the front row. On her right, Zoë sat, sitting straight and filled with confidence. Then her eyes moved to the left and met Sara Spears's.

Grace cleared her throat. “Thank you for joining me. There are two issues I want to cover. One is on a personal level, and the other is professional. I will begin with the professional.”

After much discussion, Grace and Zoë had decided to make the announcement about Conner and Solomon last, making it easier to escape uninvited questions.

“As you know, my major goal during my freshman term is to work on our schools. There are many programs that I want to implement, including developing an initiative for the governor focusing on bringing prayer back into the classroom and special abstinence and drug education programs.

“However, due to the fact that I am newly elected, I will not be able to sit on the Education Committee.” She paused and looked at Sara. Though a smile spread across her face, Sara folded her arms. “Still, I will forge forward with the programs that are important to me. To that end, I have established the Education Improvement Foundation.”

Grace explained the foundation, which was yet to be formed but would implement her ideas—away from the political arena. When she glanced up, Grace noticed that some of the reporters' pens moved across their pads, keeping up with her words. But most were leaning back in the fold-up chairs, waiting for the second part of this conference—the part that was clearly more newsworthy.

“I will keep you abreast of the foundation's activities.”

She paused and shifted the papers she held in her hand—her segue to the dreaded part two of this conference.

“Before I make my second announcement, I'd like to say that I am speaking reluctantly. I believe that my personal life should be private. However, due to pressure from various media …” She paused again, and stared, holding Sara hostage.

This time, Sara shifted in her seat. Grace wanted to cheer. Her adversary was squirming, and she wanted to hold onto the moment.

Grace continued, “I am coming forward so that the truth is told. I ask that after I make my statement, My family be left alone.”

When she looked up again, the reporters were moving to the edges of their seats.

She took a deep breath. “Recently my husband and I were informed that he is the father of another child—a son, who until this point has lived in New York.” She spoke as if the sentence were one word. She continued through the surprised sighs.

“His son is part of our family, and we will provide for him in every way: emotionally, spiritually, and financially.”

The murmurings became louder.

“Of course, this will in no way affect my position as councilwoman. Professionally, I serve. Privately, please allow my family to work through this away from the public eye. Thank you very much.”

With her final word, a gentle roar began, growing louder with each second until the shouting was full blast. Reporters' words rolled over each other as they hurled questions at her.

Zoë rushed to her side, eager to escort her away from the reporters. Over the rumbling, one voice waxed above the others.

“Councilwoman Monroe, do you believe it would be right for you to maintain your position, especially as a Christian, when it is obvious there is a lack of morals in your home?” Grace stopped at the sound of the scratchy voice. “And is it true that you've had a number of extramarital affairs yet you ran under a Christian platform?”

Grace turned around and glared at Sara.

“Come on,” Zoë whispered.

The rumbles had died to scattered whispers, and the intense stares burned through her as the reporters waited for her response.

“Let's get out of here,” Zoë said. Her voice had deepened two octaves.

Grace shook her head. She couldn't leave now and allow Sara's questions to hang in the air.

“If you answer one question, you'll be open to others,” Zoë warned.

Grace took a deep breath and followed Zoë from the room. But before they closed the door, one last question made its way to her ears. “Is this the reason you and your husband are getting a divorce?”

Grace leaned against the closed door. She looked at Zoë, who stood, shaking her head. But her chief of staff would never say I told you so.

Grace said it for her. “Channel 2 would have been better.” She paused. “Do you think we can fix this?”

Her smile was as fake as the Persian rugs sold on street corners. “Of course.”

But Grace didn't miss the way Zoë lowered her eyes before she turned away.

Grace's cell phone rang the moment Frank scooped her into the car and screeched away from city hall.

“It's over?” Conner asked without saying hello.

More than you know, Grace thought. “Yes, and it was bad.”

Conner moaned.

“I don't want to talk now.” She shook her head, as if the action would rid Sara's words from her mind.

“Grace …” He stopped before he apologized, and Grace was relieved. She didn't want to hear his regrets right now. “Where are you going?”

“I had planned to go to the office, but I'm sure we'll be inundated with calls. I'm going home to regroup and thank God that I don't carry a gun.”

“Sara Spears?”

Was it Sara, or was it you, Conner?
her mind asked. “I'll see you later,” she said without answering his question.

“Grace, I would come home now, but the Jacoby case …”

“That's fine.”

It wasn't anger that made her click off the phone without saying good-bye. She just couldn't stand to hear his sorrow.

Grace leaned back and closed her eyes, replaying the press conference's end. Sara had scored first, but the game wasn't over. The ball was in Grace's court now, and when she emerged from this time-out, she would run all over Sara. By the time the final bell rang, Sara Spears would never mess with one of God's children again.

The shrill of the telephone startled Grace. She blinked at the bedside clock. It was three-thirty; she didn't realize she'd fallen asleep. Before she could say hello, she heard Solomon's cry.

Grace sat straight up. “Solomon,” she called him calmly. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“My mother is sick,” he sobbed. “She's on the floor.”

“Where's Virginia?”

“She went to the store,” he cried.

Grace was already sliding into her shoes. “I'm on my way. I'll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay.”

“When I get to the car, I'm going to call you from my cell, so answer the phone.”

“Okay.”

“And, Solomon, sweetheart,” she said steadily to soothe him. “You're mom's going to be fine.”

“Okay.”

She barely hung up before she dialed nine-one-one. “This is Councilwoman Monroe,” she said, then gave the operator Pilar's information. “Please, hurry. There's a little boy alone with his mother.” Grace gathered her sweater, purse, and keys in one motion.

In the car, she called Conner. Marilyn answered with more cheer than usual.

“Marilyn, is Conner there?”

“No, Grace, but how are you?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Fine. Where is he?”

“Well,” she began so slowly that Grace wanted to scream, “he's at a deposition for the Jacoby case. He'll be back around six.”

She moaned. “Please do me a favor.” She paused, hoping that Marilyn heard her urgency. “Leave a message on Conner's cell for him to call me right away.”

“Grace, what's wrong?” Her cheer was gone.

“Just call Conner. Leave a message the first time, and then keep calling until he answers. I'm on my cell.”

“Okay, Grace. Call me if you need anything.”

She waited at the red light ready to call Solomon. But as she looked at the numbers on the keypad, she stopped. What was Pilar's number? Oh, God, she thought. She closed her eyes. Please, Lord, what is the number? The car behind her honked, making her jump at the same time she opened her eyes. She turned the corner. What was the number? Well, she'd be there in five minutes.

But I promised, she thought, as her car swerved down the hill. She said a quick prayer and began dialing. When Solomon answered, she thanked God. “Solomon, I'm on my way. How's your mom?”

“She's still sick, but she's awake now. Do you want to talk to her?”

“No, sweetheart. I don't want her to move. But tell her I'm on my way, and so are the doctors.”

Grace waited as he yelled those words to Pilar.

“You're doing great, Solomon. Thank you for being so grownup right now.”

“Okay.”

She turned onto Pacific Coast Highway and double-parked in front of the apartment.

“Solomon, I'm outside.”

“Okay.” Then he hung up.

The moment she jumped from the car, Virginia came strolling around the corner with a shopping bag in each hand.

“Virginia!”

“Oh, my,” Virginia shrieked when Grace told her the news. Together they ran through the hallway.

As Virginia put her key in the door, Grace yelled, “Solomon, I'm here.”

He rushed to the door the moment Virginia pushed it open and squeezed his arms around Grace.

She hunched down, and held his face in her hands. “You and your mom are going to be all right.” She wiped the tears that poured from his eyes.

“I'm scared.”

“I know.” She glanced over his shoulder as Virginia whispered to Pilar. A knock on the door tore her gaze away and she let the paramedics inside. Then she pulled Solomon onto the balcony, not wanting him to overhear anything he wasn't prepared for.

“Do you think my mother is going to be all right?” he asked, stretching his neck to watch.

Grace hugged him. “I think so, sweetie. But there is something that you and I can do.”

His wide eyes asked,
What?

“We can pray.” She ran her hand over his head.

He nodded. “Okay. I pray all the time with my mom.”

Grace smiled. “I would like to pray with you for your mom.”

He held her hand, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. She followed. “Father, in the name of Jesus, we come to you with praise and thanksgiving because you are our wonderful God. Lord, our hearts are heavy now, because we are concerned about Solomon's mother. But we know, Lord, that you are a gracious and merciful God, and you will take care of her. And you will take care of Solomon. We know, Lord, that you are going to protect us all and help us through anything we have to face. Thank you, Father, for loving us. We love you. In Jesus's name we pray.”