Someone To Believe In (25 page)

“I’ll put you to sleep tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.” Though they’d agreed he
wouldn’t stay overnight when Rory was home, Clay knew they’d make
love when—finally—the boy went to bed. The kid was an owl, but Clay
had the best luck in settling him down.

Bailey rose to go back to the stove. He
watched her, wondering what had gone on at ESCAPE this week. They
rarely talked about work, or the task force or their public
disagreements. Monday they’d had a subcommittee meeting—the first
since their commitment. It was surprisingly low-key as everybody
just reported their findings. Marion was back and recovered, thank
God. Tomorrow they were meeting as a whole group again, which was
why he was officially-in town; they’d really get to the nifty
gritty then. He expected fireworks from the little chef across from
him.

The meal was sumptuous. The roast beef was so
tender it seemed to melt in his mouth, the gravy was dark and rich,
and the vegetables tasty. Rory helped Clay clean up in exchange for
tossing a ball with him outside. While Bailey was getting the boy
down for the night, Clay went to her bedroom to wait for her and
was watching a news show from Washington. The chair of the Health,
Education, and Welfare Committee was being interviewed.

After other topics had been covered, the host
asked, “Senator Smith, how is the anti–youth crime movement going?
Congress said it was a priority.”

“It’s going well. As you know, Stewart’s new
bill will provide millions of dollars to fight against juvenile
crime.”

“Especially against youth gangs,
correct?”

“That’s right.”

“When will the money provided for by his bill
be allocated?”

“We’re gathering information this month in
each state; home senators will report their recommendations in a
few weeks; we expect to have funds earmarked by Thanksgiving.”

From the doorway, Bailey said, “It’s coming
up soon.”

Clay looked up. “Yes.” He gripped the
remote.

She came fully into the room and dropped down
onto the bed. “This is hard, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Think we can handle it?”

Tossing aside the remote, he reached for her.
She fell onto his chest. He kissed her soundly. “Yes, we can handle
this. Especially if we’re honest with each other.”

“I think that’s important, Clay. Even if we
disagree. Or if it causes problems.”

“I know.” Grasping her neck, he kissed her
again. “But no more negative talk tonight.”

She didn’t say anything, just studied him in
that way she had that made him want to squirm like a grade-school
kid. “All right.” Her eyes glittered, and he felt her hand drift
down his abs, below his belt to cup him boldly. “I can think of one
way to assure that.”

“Can you now?” he said closing his eyes.

AT FOUR ON Monday afternoon, Clay surveyed
the Task Force Committee and watched Bailey across the room talking
to Eric Lawson. Dressed in the denim skirt she’d worn that morning
she’d come to the Suffox and a long-sleeved navy T-shirt, with her
hair pulled off her face, she listened intently to something his
rival was telling her. Clay thought back to leaving her twelve
hours ago.

He’d climbed out of bed trying not to wake
her. Still, she turned over and faced him. “Clay?”

“It’s late. We both fell asleep. I’ve got to
get out of here now, or I’ll be zonked for good.” He was naked,
standing in the dim moonlight. While she watched, he drew on the
jeans he’d worn. A breeze drifted in from the window and she
shivered; he bent over and drew up the covers.

She grasped his hand. “I don’t want you to
go.” God he loved how she reacted so spontaneously, didn’t hold
back.

“It’s either that or explain to the little
guy why I slept with Mommy.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. After the
discussion of the task force, their lovemaking had been
unbelievably tender and poignant. He truly didn’t want to leave
her.

She said, “Damn it.”

He sat on the side of her bed and brushed
back her hair. “Just so long as you like it as little as I do.”

“That’s an understatement. You know, I
thought getting to see you more would stop this...need to be with
you.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast. “It’s just
the opposite.”

“Aw, sweetheart, for me, too.” Leaning over
he kissed her other breast. “I’m becoming addicted to
IrishCream.”

She laughed at the pun, and he’d been tempted
to crawl right back in the bed with her.

“I’ll see you at the meeting...”

Ned Price approached him just before they got
started. “O’Neil’s here,” he stated gruffly.

Pretending to check the time, Clay nodded.
“Yes.”

“I wish she hadn’t come back to the
committee.”

“She deserves her say, Ned.”

“Yeah, but she just doesn’t get it. These
kids are violent criminals. I heard rumblings about the girl gangs
at the precinct last night.”

“What kind of rumblings?”

“Action’s stepping up. Apparently Anthrax has
some beef against the GGs.” He dropped his voice. “The cops are
working overtime on a strategy to get those kids and cripple both
gangs.”

Briefly, Clay thought of Taz, the girl Bailey
was trying to get out. Would she be caught in the police’s net? He
knew it would hurt Bailey, a lot, if she was.

“I think we can get started.” Jerry Friedman
had approached the table and spoke up.

Clay glanced up to see Bailey lean over to
listen to something Lawson had to say. She smiled weakly, her gaze
panning the table. When it fell on him, her expression was full of
feeling, then she turned away.

A spurt of anger shot through him. He hated
this dissembling. He hated her sitting with Lawson. For a brief
moment, he wondered what would happen if he declared how he felt
about her to the whole committee.

The governor checked his agenda. “Today,
we’ll give our reports from the subcommittee meetings. Once
everybody has all the information, I’ll let you have some time to
study it, then we’ll call a final session to vote on a
recommendation.” He set another meeting date and the reports
began.

“The first committee’s task was to assess
current community-based programs already in existence.” He nodded
to Clay. “You ready to go?”

“Sure.” He passed around the document they’d
assembled. “We started with the city. As you might expect, we have
the most programs because we have the most problems. If you look on
page twelve, you’ll see a list of our operations.” At the top of it
was ESCAPE.

“I see several cities are modeling ESCAPE’s
prototype,” Eric Lawson commented after scanning the document.

“Yes.” Bailey smiled at the younger man.
“I’ve gone to Albany, Rochester, and Buffalo to talk to the staff
of the groups about what we do. They’re well underway to
implementing at least some of ESCAPE’s programs.”

Clay rapped his knuckles on the report. “We
don’t want to lose sight of the shelters, clinics, and food
kitchens available to all youth, and that assist kids in gangs.
ESCAPE isn’t the only game in town.”

Again Lawson. “None, specifically for kids
trying to get out of gangs, though, are there?”

“You know there’s not, Lawson.”

“Yet.”

Bailey caught Clay’s gaze. She said, “It’s no
secret we’re trying to get money for Guardian, but Senator
Wainwright’s blocked it. And we need clinics which will take these
kids if they’re hurt. Those are particularly necessary.”

“Because your kids are so violent,” Clay
said.

“Because my kids are in danger, Senator.”

Sister Marion intervened. “Could we look at
the research from subcommittee number three, which explored a
variety of current intervention services for gang members and
at-risk kids in the rest of the country? Let’s see if these kinds
of special places exist or are effective?”

The state senator held up his document. “We
did the research on that. There are a few organizations in
California that we might want to look at.”

After they’d reported their findings, the
third subcommittee on crime prevention research presented.

Clay listened to the recap of the two sides:
social intervention versus legal intervention: Bailey’s views
versus his.

“So,” he said when they finished. “There are
no cut-and-dried answers.”

“Nothing’s black and white,” Lawson said in a
dry tone bordering on sarcastic. “No matter how much you try to
make it so.”

“I don’t do that,” Clay snapped.

The governor checked the time. “We need to
wind this up. Here’s what I propose. Everybody takes the documents
home. Come back next meeting knowing how you want to spend the
money. We’ll argue it out then. I think we can solidify our
recommendation at that point, too.”

Lawson spoke up. “What will happen to this
recommendation?”

Friedman studied the young lawyer. “Is that a
loaded question?”

“Sort of. I hate when a committee puts time
and effort into something, then the people running it don’t pay
attention to the official recommendation.”

Friedman stiffened. “Each senator on his or
her state’s task force will meet with Stewart’s committee.
Obviously, Clay will represent us. Then the rest of Stewart’s
committee will make the determination of use of funds from the new
bill.”

Like a dog with a bone, Lawson zeroed in on
Clay. “You’re on the D.C. committee, too, aren’t you
Wainwright?”

Price spoke up. “What’s this all about? We’re
not in a political arena here, Lawson. Save your attacks for the
newspapers.”

Lawson raised his eyebrows. With a shock of
dark hair falling over his forehead, he looked rakish. “Isn’t
anyone else concerned about this? Wainwright’s views are
well-known. If we come up with something other than what he
believes in, what difference will our recommendation make? He’ll
veto it on the parent committee. He’s double dipping. He gets to
present our findings with whatever spin he wants to put on it, then
act as a decision maker with Stewart.”

Marion leaned forward. “I’m concerned about
that. There are obvious sides here. We can’t do anything about his
membership on Stewart’s committee, but that the conservative
senator is our sole representative worries me.”

Bailey shot Friedman a look; something
telegraphed between them. She said, “I mentioned this point to you
when you asked me to be on this task force, Governor.” Her gaze
transferred to Clay. “I have concerns about that, too.”

“Are you questioning my integrity?” Clay
asked.

“No,” Bailey said. “We’re worried about your
biases, Senator.”

“Perhaps Ms. O’Neil can be there when you
present our report,” Friedman said. “We can send two people to
give New York’s input.”

Clay sat back. Bailey sat back. Lawson said,
“I think that’s a great idea. She’d make sure our side got fair
representation.”

The others agreed. Friedman nodded to Bailey.
“Ready for a trip to D.C., Ms. O’Neil?”

She looked directly at Clay. “I’m more than
ready to go to Washington, Governor Friedman.”

Of course, no one else knew Clay wasn’t
totally unhappy about this turn of events.

BAILEY WAS LATE for dinner at her parents’
apartment. The pub was closed Mondays so they tried to make family
time together then. Having sold their home in Queens, her mother
and father now lived above the restaurant in a spacious second
floor apartment. Now that they were retired, they spent the winter
months in Florida and the rest of the time here.

She entered their home with Rory in tow and
found everybody already seated. The adults were in the big dining
room and the kids were happily settled in the kitchen.

Her father said, “There’s my girl.”

Bailey kissed his cheek. “Sorry I’m late, Pa.
I had a meeting for work.” She hugged her mother, who was just
putting lamb stew on the table. “Hmm, smells wonderful. I’m
starved.”

She scanned the members of her family. Dylan,
Liam, and Aidan sat on one side, with Patrick adjacent to
them—alone. Uh-oh. If Brie had to work tonight and miss a family
dinner, sparks would fly.

She sat down, and amid the chatter, her mind
wandered to just an hour ago...

“Where are you going now?” Clay had asked,
pulling her to a dim corner in Penn Station. As prearranged, after
the meeting, she’d taken a cab there with him to spend a bit more
time together.

She glanced up at the huge overhead clock.
“Dinner at Ma’s. I’m late.”

He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Will
you miss me?”

“Uh-huh.” She stood up on tiptoes and kissed
him hard.

He held her to him. “I hated clashing with
you on the committee.”

“Yeah, me too. You okay with it?”

“For the time being. Call me tonight. I have
a party fundraiser thing, but I’ll be done by eleven.”

She’d hung on, not wanting him to
leave...

“Hey, B., you’re in never-never land.” This
from Aidan.

“Sorry.” She paid attention to eating the
stew and joined in with the conversation by tossing her brothers a
few barbs.

When they were having coffee, Patrick leaned
back in his chair, and cleared his throat. “I got something to
say.”

Bailey stiffened. His tone indicated it
wasn’t good.

His face was lined with fatigue and his blue
eyes were dull. “Brie and I are separating for a while.”

“Separating?” Her mother acted like the word
was foreign.

“I know this’ll be hard for you, Ma. And you,
Pa. But it’s best for me right now.”

“And what about your three children?” Mary
Kate asked. “What about vows you made?”

He looked to Pa. Her father had made vows,
broken them. “Katie, don’t. We were apart for a while. It worked
out.”

Except he’d had an affair and a kid.