Chapter 3
Merritt looked up at her, his face a sonnet of suffering, lines etched deep not from age but from some unspoken weight. “I’m in trouble,” he told her, his voice breaking as he said it.
Reva’s breath caught. “Are you all right?” Her eyes scanned his torso for signs of injury. “Are you sick?”
He shook his head, dispelling the notion. “No.”
“Is it Hillary? The kids?”
Again, he shook his head.
Reva filled with confusion. “Then, what are you doing here?” The last time she’d seen Merritt Hardwick was the night they’d said goodbye forever—or so she’d thought.
Merritt rubbed the back of his head. He wore a turtleneck sweater and jeans and still looked…good. Standing near him sent a tiny quiver through her. “Come in,” she told him, wrapping her arms around her to ward off the chilly night air.
He obliged and followed her inside. Reva tightened her robe’s belt around her waist suddenly aware she had no makeup on and must look a sight. Her hand went involuntarily to her hair.
The motion brought a tiny smile to his lips, a smile that faded as quickly as it appeared.
She let her eyes roam her ex-fiancé, examining every feature in the light. Despite their seven-year separation, he hadn’t changed. He had the same lean build with muscles in all the right places. His warm, brown complexion, flawless. His hair was still shaved displaying his perfectly shaped head. And he still had those amazing dimples that gave him a boyish charm few women could resist.
She’d seen a few pictures of him over the past seven years. The media was generous the night he won his senate seat. He’d looked fabulous standing there waving at the cameras. So had his new wife, Hillary.
Reva felt her heart beat a little faster as their gazes met. Those familiar espresso-colored eyes flecked with gold cracked open her chest. All the years of knowing him—of him knowing her—rushed back. She froze in place hoping that by standing still she could stop the world from spinning.
She swallowed and tried to find her voice. “Please, sit.” She motioned for the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”
Merritt appeared awkward as he made his way to the sofa and sank into a cushion. “Coffee…unless it’s too much trouble.”
“No. I’ll make some.” She could use a cup as well. Normally the caffeine would hinder her ability to sleep, but she knew better than to believe she was going to get any more rest tonight.
Reva padded into her vaulted kitchen and busied herself with stuffing a paper filter inside her Breville coffee maker.
“You still drink that coffee from the roastery in Columbia?” he asked, making uncomfortable small talk as he glanced around.
She almost hated to admit she did. “Yes.”
Her answer seemed to please him. “Good. That’s good.”
The drip coffee maker took forever. When the brew was finally ready, she carried two steaming mugs back into the living room. She handed one to Merritt and cautiously took a seat opposite him. “Now, do you want to tell me why you just showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
He took a sip, taking forever to answer her pointed question. Finally, he directed his gaze back at her. “I’m in trouble.”
She looked at him over her mug. “You said that. Do you care to explain?”
His attention drifted to the night sky outside her windows. “I’ve done something awful.” His voice dropped an octave as he added, “And I got caught.”
The revelation was like a spear in her heart. “What do you mean awful?” She held her mind back from racing through all the possibilities. Had he been unfaithful to Hillary? That would explain a lot.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said, establishing that he could still read her mind. He set his mug on the coffee table and leaned over his knees, his hands trembling as he knitted his fingers to steady them.
He was scaring her. She placed her mug on the nearby table. “Merritt, what did you do?” Her voice was nearly a whisper.
“The details don’t matter. In fact, the less you know, the better. But, it’s serious,” Merritt started, his voice a mixture of defeat and regret. “I’ve just learned that for months now, I’ve been under a secret FBI investigation. They’re looking into my connections with a foreign diplomat from Egypt. It appears they have evidence that I accepted significant sums in exchange for political favors.”
Reva’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my God.” She closed her eyes tightening them against the revelation.
Merritt’s hands were now shaking uncontrollably. “They’re alleging that I violated the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act and potentially committed acts of treason. I’m likely to be charged with bribery, misuse of office, and breaching national security protocols.” His eyes, once confident and piercing, now held a shadow of the man he used to be. “The funds were masked as donations to my campaign. In truth, they were direct payments influencing legislative decisions.”
Reva leapt from her seat. “Merritt! No!” Unbidden moisture flooded her eyes as she paced the floor. “That isn’t you.” She turned to face him. “This is a joke, right?”
Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I was blinded by ambition, Reva. And now, everything I’ve built is on the verge of collapsing.” His voice trailed off as he looked away, the gravity of his choices and the impending consequences settling heavy in the room.
Reva knotted her fist and brought it to her mouth, biting the skin as if the pain might mask the agony she felt inside.
Merritt met Reva’s questioning gaze, her turmoil swirling like a storm. “I came to you because, despite everything, you know me better than anyone else,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “You were there at the start of my dream, believing in me, pushing me to follow my political aspirations.” His voice dropped. “Despite what it cost you.”
He wiped his eyes with the back of his broad hand. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you finding out from the news and not from me.” His gaze returned to his hands that were clasped tightly together. “I needed you to hear it directly from me, to know the truth behind the headlines that will soon break. I’m not seeking forgiveness from anyone, Reva. I don’t deserve that. But before the world judges me, I wanted someone who knew the man I once aspired to be to understand the depth of my regret. You’re my best friend…you deserve that much.”
His words hung heavy in the air, a witness to the gravity of his revelation and the remnants of a bond that had meant everything. The notion did not pass that he’d called her his best friend. Present tense.
“What about Hillary?”
Merritt rubbed his forehead. “She left me.”
“Left you? And the kids?”
“They are all at her parents’ house in New Jersey. She’s agreed to appear when I make my public statement, but it’s over. She left no doubt of that.”
“Oh, Merritt. I’m so sorry. About it all.” She still couldn’t reconcile the news with who she knew him to be. How could he have gone so off course? She couldn’t bear to think about what lay ahead for him.
She looked into his eyes, hating the despair she saw there. She’d once carried that look. There was a time long ago when she was so ashamed of her drinking that she could barely hold her head up.
Is that why he came to her? Did he know she would understand?
Still, there was no excuse for what he’d done. And from the sounds of things, he was going to pay dearly.
The knowledge broke her.
She moved to the spot before him and folded to the floor, took his hands into her own. “Listen to me, Merritt. You are not the sum of the crimes you committed. You are better than that. You are deeply valued by your creator…and by me. Nothing changes that.” She squeezed his fingers tightly with her own. “You will get through this. And when you are on the other side, you’ll find a way to compensate for your poor choices. Make things right. Your bad decisions can be redeemed.”
She longed to trace his chin with her finger, assure him he would never lose her friendship. Nothing could remove how she felt about him…continued to feel about him despite their moving on from each other.
As if reading her thoughts, he squeezed back. “I’m not staying in Thunder Mountain. I would never do that to you.”
She nodded. “You’re married,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
If everything was different, they might stay up until dawn talking about old times. Times they had made each other blissfully happy, and they’d laugh about the times they made each other blisteringly mad. They’d reminisce their love story like two people reflecting on a movie, their memories slightly different now, tinged with bittersweetness.
Things were not different. Their story came to an early and sad end. He’d moved away to follow his dreams and had married Hillary, had a family.
He was no longer hers.
She was not his.
The thought hit her hard. Their love was like a faded map, the once-bold lines and vibrant paths now blurred and indistinct. Each crease and tear a testament to a destination never reached. The landmarks that once seemed so familiar now appeared foreign, as if the very landscape of their deep affection had shifted, leaving behind only a relic of the past—a guide to a place she could no longer find.
She lifted. “Look, I’m going to go get the guest room ready. You’ll stay the night.”
She held her hand up to his immediate protest. “We both know there’s no hotel open this late. Not unless you drive clear to Jackson Hole, and even then—” She let her voice drift off. “You’ll stay here.”
This time, he didn’t argue. He simply stood. “Thank you, Reva.”
He took his watch off, the one his grandfather had given him upon passing the bar exam, and laid it on the coffee table next to his mug. She knew it was engraved. “I’m expecting big things. Love, Pappy.”
Thankfully, he was not here to see Merritt’s tumble from grace.
Minutes later, they ascended the stairs, each step seeming to creak under the weight of Merritt’s revelation. The hallway light cast long shadows, stretching their forms into ghostly silhouettes that merged.
At the top, they paused, standing side by side, facing their separate doors. The space between them was charged with what remained unsaid. They exchanged a glance, a silent conversation of regret and resignation, a mutual acknowledgment of the boundary they dared not cross.
“So, if you get cold, the thermostat is on the wall next to the door.” She pointed in that direction.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
With soft, bittersweet smiles, they whispered their goodnights.
Merritt turned to his door, hand resting on the knob for a moment too long while she lingered, her gaze tracing the familiar lines of his back, memorizing the moment.
As their doors closed softly, the quiet of Reva’s room enveloped her like a shroud, the echo of their footsteps a testament to what might have been and the poignant acceptance of what was.