Chapter 28

Connie

 

I sat and listened to Mitch with a sense of rising horror and guilt as he told me about his meeting in the Oval Office. I felt all the blood drain away from my face until I was shivering and cold as a corpse. At last Mitch fell silent and I started to cry.

“Mitch, I’m so sorry!” I sobbed, racked with remorse. “This is all my fault. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

He looked bemused by my tears. He put an arm around my shoulder. “It’s no one’s fault,” he tried to appease me. “It’s not like you attacked me and I valiantly tried to fight off your unwelcome advances,” he said around a smile.

I couldn’t understand his attitude. I expected him to be furious. Through one impulsive moment his entire career in Washington had been ruined, and with it had gone a friendship with the President.

And he was smiling!

I felt myself begin to tremble. Mitch went to the bar and poured scotch into two tumblers. He brought one back across the room and handed it to me. I drank it in a single gulp and felt the burn in the back of my throat and the sting of the fumes. It started me crying all over again.

Mitch pulled me to my feet and took me in his arms.

“Connie, sometimes things happen for a reason,” Mitch said softly. “This is one of those times. You know damned well that I have no love for Washington. I helped the President when the Government needed a different approach to problems, but that’s as deep as my involvement with politics goes. This is no great loss… it’s an opportunity for us. It’s a chance for you and I to be ourselves and to build a relationship away from prying eyes. If we seize this moment, it could be the start of a life-long future.”

I cuffed away the tears and sniffed. I searched Mitch’s eyes. I could see that he meant every word he said, and I could see that he believed.

I nodded. My lips were trembling. I took a few huffing little breaths to compose myself and then fell into his strong arms where it was safe.

“What will we do?” I asked in a small voice.

Mitch’s smile became adventurous. “How about a road trip?” he suggested. “We could get away from Washington for a few weeks or even a few months.”

I nodded. The idea sounded perfect. “Where would we go?”

“Galveston,” Mitch smiled. “There’s some people down there I’d like to meet and a property or two I’d like to invest in.”

I smiled and laughed, despite myself. “Sounds great,” I warmed. The chance to spend time with my grandmother in her bookstore was simply perfect. “When can we leave?”

“This afternoon,” Mitch said.

 

 

“This is the last suitcase,” I told Mitch as I set the bag down by the front door. I was dressed in jeans and a comfortable gray sweater. Mitch was in jeans and an open-necked shirt. He looked relaxed and buoyant.

“Okay,” he snatched up a set of keys. “The car is out by the curb. Help me get everything into the trunk.”

It was late afternoon and in the distance the sun was setting over the capital. The air was turning cold with the dusk and the sky was darkening. In the hours since Mitch had returned from the Oval Office my mood had risen and plummeted a dozen times; one moment I was shaking with tears and the next I was looking forward to escaping Washington and never looking back.

Mitch seemed more level, more stable. It seemed as though he had been able to put the events of the morning completely behind him and instead turned his full attention to the future.

We carried the bags down the steps and across the sidewalk. Mitch opened the trunk and we loaded the car. He went back to the front door of the house, pulled it closed, and then locked it. He was jangling the keys in his hand and smiling. He came around to the passenger-side door, unlocked it, and held it open for me in a gallant act of chivalry.

“Ma’am,” he bowed.

I giggled and was about to climb into the car when I saw a white envelope on the seat. I frowned and pointed. Mitch looked puzzled. He reached into the car and snatched up the envelope. He turned it over in his hand. There was nothing to identify it; no marks, no address. He ripped the envelope open and removed a folded gray card and a small square piece of black plastic.

Mitch opened the flap of the card. I stared over his shoulder.

 

A final gift to solve one last problem…

Sergey

 

I took the piece of plastic from Mitch and studied it carefully. “Mitch this looks like a memory card from a digital camera,” I said. I let that thought hang in the air for a moment and then suddenly my eyes came alight with realization. I clawed at Mitch’s arm for his attention.

“This could be the memory card from the journalist’s camera,” my voice was bubbling with excitement and wild relief. “And if it is, it means there is no evidence of what we did behind the stage curtain. There’s no proof, Mitch. And that means there can be no trade deal scandal.”

Mitch stared at the small memory card.

“It also means that you don’t have to abandon your career or your friendship with the President. Without evidence, the scandal can never be proved!” I persisted

Mitch looked at me, the understanding in his eyes.

I took the card from his hand. “We need to check through the photos to be sure,” I said in a breathless rush. “This could change everything!”

Mitch took the card back. “It changes nothing,” he shook his head. Then he dropped the memory card on the road and crushed it into a dozen pieces under his heel. “This is the past, Connie, and I don’t want that life anymore. I made my decision and I made my choice with no regrets. All I want is a future with you.”