49

WASHINGTON, D.C.

VANESSA AND BRIAN RENTED a paddleboat in the Tidal Basin Saturday morning, and as they pushed off from shore, Vanessa felt a welcome sense of isolation from the rest of the world. The cherry trees surrounding the basin had dropped their blossoms, which circled the water with a faded pink-and-white blanket. The sky was a rich, cloudless blue. Ahead of them, Thomas Jefferson stood silhouetted in his domed monument.

Late last night, they’d checked out of the Omni and into a smaller, more intimate hotel under Brian’s name. They had lost the wolves, they hoped, and they’d called their respective employers to let them know they were taking a few more days off. The city was beautiful, signs of spring were everywhere, and they were determined to escape Vanessa’s tormentors without having to leave Washington itself.

Out in the middle of the basin, Vanessa stopped pedaling. She slipped off her lightweight jacket and raised her face to the sun. Brian took her lead, taking off his own jacket, then putting his arm around her and letting the little boat drift idly in the water.

Reporters could be frighteningly quick and ruthless, Vanessa had learned. They had dug up enough information on her teenage years to fuel any argument against her credibility. And they were not her only tormentors.

Terri Roos had tracked her down the night before. Vanessa had already heard from a few other people in the network. Most expressed a stunned, but reserved, sympathy. Terri, though, was clearly angry.

“You put your personal agenda ahead of the greater good,” she’d said. Vanessa had simply hung up on her.

Doug Jenks, the chief executive officer of Lassiter Children’s Hospital, had called to tell her she should have thought through the potential repercussions of her testimony, both to herself and to Lassiter, before going public with her allegations. But it was the call from the reporter who said he had learned that she’d relinquished a baby for adoption twenty years ago—and was trying to track that young woman down—that propelled them into changing hotels.

“Please, don’t,” was all Vanessa had managed to say before her tears started. She was tired. Tired of the phone calls. Tired of the questions.

The one truly heartening call had come from Darcy, who’d cried on the phone and chastised Vanessa for not having told her. Brian suggested that if she returned the calls from Claire, she might find support there as well. He was probably right, but she didn’t have the strength to talk to her sister right now.

“I’ll call her when we get back to Seattle,” she promised. And she would. Her anger toward Claire was gone, and she realized it had been misdirected all along. In its place was a mounting sympathy. Claire was battling old memories. Vanessa had seen too many women in the midst of that fight to be able to shrug off her sister’s suffering. But she couldn’t deal with it now.

The boat rocked lightly in the basin, and the sun warmed her face, and despite the trauma of the past few days, Vanessa felt more at peace with herself than she had in a long time. She’d done what she had to do. If they believed her, fine. If not, what did it matter? It was obvious to her, if to no one else, that she had scared Zed Patterson. He was going to include aid for adolescents in his bill just to keep her off his back.

“Let’s not go back to shore,” Brian said.

She rolled her head to his shoulder. “Never?”

“Maybe to eat every once in a while. That’s all.”

“Maybe to see a doctor,” Vanessa suggested.

“A doctor?”

“I’m a week and a half late.”

Brian’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “Stress?”

“Could be. I’ve been under a little.”

They were quiet for a moment. She could feel Brian absorbing the news, and she smiled to herself.

“Have you ever been a week and a half late before?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Van.” His voice was thick, and she put her arms around him and held him close to her as their boat drifted gently under a cloudless sky.