The Sweetest Summer(143)
Charlie swiveled his head. “You’re blaming your second-in-command for how you treated my daughter?”
“I’m not blaming. I take full responsibility for having an inappropriate relationship with Amanda.”
“But all the rest is someone else’s fault?”
“Charlie, I came here to share what I’ve just learned. For the first time, I know how badly Amanda was treated and how much it must have hurt her. My chief of staff—well, she’s now my former chief of staff—gave Amanda money for an abortion and said it came from me. It didn’t. If I had known she was pregnant, which I did not, I never would have asked her to do that.”
Charlie’s lips trembled.
“And then my chief of staff told Amanda that if she didn’t leave DC immediately—”
“She might disappear the way young women in trouble sometimes do in Washington. Like the young interns and staffers who are never heard from again.”
Richard gripped the armrests.
“After Amanda died, Evelyn told me the whole story, including how you threatened my little girl.”
“It was a travesty. My chief of staff was just trying to intimidate her. She was never in any danger.” Richard hung his head. “Now that I know the truth about all this, I felt it was only right to apologize from the bottom of my heart.”
Charlie was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “What do you expect from me, Wahlman? You want me to reach out and pat you on the head and say all is forgiven?”
“I . . .”
“If I ever get there, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Fair enough, but I didn’t come to win your forgiveness, just to tell you the truth and let you know how much I regret all of it.”
Charlie sighed. “You say you’re truly sorry?”
“I am.”
“Prove it.”
Richard reeled back. “How would I do that?”
“Simple. If you feel remorse for what you did to my Amanda, then let Evelyn go. Call off the FBI. Stop this circus. Let my girls come home where they belong.”
“I . . . I don’t even know that I can do that, Charlie. Now that the federal government has opened a case—”
“Ayuh, more fertilizer.” Charlie sipped his beer. “You can do anything you want and you know it. Just make it happen, like you made the custody decision happen. In honor of Amanda, who suffered terribly at your hands.”
“Uh . . .”
“Your chief of staff’s hands.”
“Yes.”
“So stop this ludicrous manhunt and then maybe we can come to some kind of civilized agreement about custody. Christina deserves the adults around her to behave like adults. But only if you call off the FBI.”
Richard took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” He rose, suddenly feeling a little unsteady on his feet. He checked his watch—his flight was scheduled to leave Augusta in an hour and a half. “May I use your bathroom, please, before I hit the road?”
Charlie began snickering. “Knock yourself out, Congressman. Last door on the left just before you enter the kitchen.”
A moment later, Richard stood in the half bath, taking a leak while staring at a copy of one of his old campaign posters, a handful of darts stuck between his eyes and a thousand tiny holes poked in his face.