The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [52]
“Graham.”
“Was it Graham’s baby, Miles?”
“Oh, yes. Graham’s and Blythe’s.”
Bingo.
“And did Graham go to see the baby with you?” Simon willed his pulse to remain steady. There was much more ground to be covered. The story was far from complete.
“No, no, he couldn’t do that. That’s why I went. To make sure she was all right. That everything was all right.”
“And was everything all right?”
“As long as she stayed there, it was. But as soon as she came back . . .” Kendall’s eyes closed tightly and his hands began to shake. “She wasn’t supposed to come back. I never counted on her ever coming back. I never thought she would be in such danger. . . .”
“What happened when she came back? Who was the danger, Miles?”
“She begged me to bring her to the party. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want her there. It was not a good idea. I told her, ‘Blythe, you don’t understand how it is now.’ But she was insistent. She promised she would never ask me again. ‘Just this one last time, and then I’m leaving and I won’t be back,’ she said. ‘Just this one last time.’ ”
Miles was openly weeping. “He talked about getting a divorce, about divorcing Celeste and marrying Blythe. About not running for a second term—”
“What?!” Simon exclaimed. “What did you say?”
“—but she wanted him to. Thought it was his duty. She could take care of the baby, raise her, until he was finished. He was too good a President, she said. The country needed him. But then he would marry her.”
“Graham Hayward considered not running for a second term ?” Simon whispered the words aloud, incredulous. This sure hadn’t shown up in any of the material provided by Philip Norton.
Simon wondered if Norton knew. . . .
“She had orchids in her hair that night.” Miles was rambling now. “And she wore her lavender gown.”
Oblivious to his tears, Miles shook his head slowly. “I took her home that night. It shouldn’t have happened. I never thought anything like that would happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. . . .”
“Miles, this is important.” Simon leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Who else knew about the baby?”
“I didn’t tell about the baby. Not ever,” Miles protested. “I never told. . . .”
“Who else might have known? Who else would Hayward have confided in?” Simon wondered aloud. “Who else knew about Blythe? Who knew about the baby?”
But the veil was descending, and Miles Kendall began to slip back into a place where no one could follow.
“Just like that.” Kendall turned slowly to the window, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “Just like that, she was gone. It shouldn’t have happened like that. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. . . .”
All the way back to Arlington, Simon tried to digest the dramatic information that Miles Kendall had shared, wondering how much the man’s memory could be trusted.
If what Kendall had said was true, Graham Hayward might have served only one term, not two. He’d have left Celeste for Blythe. He’d have acknowledged his child.
Someone very obviously had not wanted any of that to happen. And Miles, Simon was beginning to realize, knew who that someone was.
Had Miles kept that secret all these years?
And who else, Simon wondered, had Graham told about the child he had had with his would-be bride, about his plans for a happily ever after that had nothing to do with the wife and children he already had?
The orderly took his time walking from the bus stop to the dirt path that led down to the parking lot. It wouldn’t be long, he figured, before he had the keys to that sweet Camaro in his pocket, so every day now he scouted the lot for the primo parking spots. Not too close to the trees, lest a storm bring down a branch, but not too far out into the open, either. The hot sun could do a number on that excellent paint job.
He passed through the front door and into the lobby, as usual, smiling at the new nurse’s aide who worked the second shift, the redhead with the long legs and tight sweater under the jacket of her uniform. And as usual, she pretended