The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes Part 48

She didn't bother to respond to the e-mail Vivian sent her late that night. She and Vivian would have bickered nonstop as kids, she decided. And she would have rebelled against Irving Russell. She might not have had panic attacks if she'd grown up in that family, but she doubted the three of them would be on speaking terms by now.

She turned on the television in the bedroom while getting dressed the next morning. The Today Show Today Show was on and Matt Lauer was interviewing an attorney she'd never seen before. was on and Matt Lauer was interviewing an attorney she'd never seen before.

"You know, there's the issue that Eve Elliott was only sixteen at the time of the kidnapping," the attorney said, "and that she's been a model citizen as an adult, but the prosecution is mounting a ma.s.sive offense. You've got to feel for the Russell family. They just went through this with Timothy Gleason and they thought everything was wrapped up tight. Then Eve Elliott shows up with her own part of the story."

"She didn't have to confess, though," Matt Lauer said. "Does she get points for that?"

"Oh, sure. She won't get the death penalty. Her attorneys can make the case that she was under the control of Timothy Gleason. But her real blunder, if you want to use that word, was that she stole the baby. She knew what she was doing and she had twenty-seven years to correct the mistake. The prosecution's going to use that to their advantage."

"So what do you think?" Lauer asked. "Life in prison?"

"That's a good bet," the attorney replied.

So, her mother's life had become something to bet on. Corinne imagined office workers standing around the water coolers, wagering on the outcome of tomorrow's preliminary hearing.

She walked into the kitchen, started the coffee brewing, poured cereal into a bowl and sat down at the table. She had a plan, and she thought briefly of calling Ken to help her with it, but that would be a cop-out. This was something she had to do alone.

Closing her eyes, she imagined standing in front of a cla.s.sroom of twenty kids at the start of a new reading lesson. She could smell the crisp-air scent of the squirmy fourth-grade bodies and see their rosy skin. She imagined looking down at the stack of new textbooks resting on her desk. Her breathing was even, her heart rate a little elevated with the excitement of teaching a new lesson. She knew exactly what she needed to do and how to do it.

Standing up, she left her cereal on the table and turned off the coffeemaker without pouring herself a cup. "Carry the confidence," she said as she picked up her car keys from the counter. "Carry the confidence."

It was one hundred and fifty highway miles from Raleigh to Charlottesville. She hadn't driven on the highway since that day she'd managed to take the 540 expressway to work. Cars whizzed past her as she pulled gingerly into the traffic, stealing her breath away. She was going far too slowly, and she felt the wind from the other cars smacking into the side of her little Honda. The trucks were worse. She felt as if she were choking. How often had she felt that way? Yet had she ever actually choked? No. Never.

"Carry the confidence." She repeated the mantra to herself. It helped, but even so, she had to pull off four times in the first thirty miles to gather her courage around her again. At the side of the road, she'd tell herself that her staccato heartbeat was the same as she felt when about to teach a new lesson. She'd imagined being in front of the cla.s.s again. She was getting good at picturing the scene, feeling herself a part of it. It became easier each time she did it.

For the last twenty miles, she didn't need to pull off the road at all, and soon she was in the familiar territory of Charlottesville. She thought of stopping home to see if her father was there. He'd be stunned to know she'd driven a hundred and fifty miles alone! She could hardly believe it herself. There was no time to stop anywhere, though, and frankly, she didn't want to let anyone in on her plan. She couldn't risk being told it was foolhardy. She didn't care if it was. It was what she had to do.

She knew the grounds well, and she parked in the lot closest to Madison Hall. She felt so much older than the students as she walked toward the building. Older and wiser. Once in Madison Hall, she quickly found the president's office, and she walked inside.

The receptionist was on the phone, but she looked up when Corinne entered.

"Oh my G.o.d," she said into the phone. "I'll call you back."

She set down the phone, then stood up and grasped Corinne's hand.

"You're Corinne," she said, smiling. "I've seen your pictures, but I didn't realize how much you looked like Vivian until now."

"Is President Russell in?" she asked.

The receptionist glanced at the blinking b.u.t.tons on her phone. "He's on a call. You have a seat and I'll let him know you're here."

Was there a chance he would refuse to see her? She saw the door to the receptionist's left, the name Irving Russell on a plaque next to it.

"I need to see him right away," she said, moving toward the door.

"Wait!" The woman put out an arm to stop her, but Corinne dodged it. "Let me call him and-"

Corinne pushed the door open. Russell was indeed on the phone and he looked up in surprise.

"I'll have to get back to you," he said into the receiver. "Right. Goodbye." Setting the phone on its cradle, he stood up. "Corinne," he said.

"I need to talk with you."

"Good." He motioned toward a chair. "I think we do need to talk in person. E-mail and phone calls don't do the job sometimes, and I apologize for hanging up on you last night. You touched a raw nerve in me."

She sat down across the desk from him, knowing she'd be touching the same nerve again today. She had to take control of this meeting. If she didn't, he would run right over her. She folded her hands in her lap. Her palms were damp.

"You and Vivian talk about love like it's automatic," she began. "As though one day I know you as the president of UVA, the next day I know you're my father and I'm supposed to automatically love you."

"I would never ask or expect that of you," he said, "but for me, it is is automatic. You're my flesh and blood. That's enough for me. That's why I want to give you..." He held his hands out to his sides. "I want to give you the world," he said. "I want to give you more of the jewelry that belonged to your mother. Vivian has most of it, and some of it went to Genevieve's sisters-your aunts. But I saved some pieces because...I guess I hadn't given up on Genevieve still being alive. I hoped that someday she'd be able to wear it again. It never occurred to me that I would have the opportunity to give it to my daughter." He smiled, and she felt deeply sorry for him. He'd been through so much, but she couldn't be deterred from her reason for this visit. automatic. You're my flesh and blood. That's enough for me. That's why I want to give you..." He held his hands out to his sides. "I want to give you the world," he said. "I want to give you more of the jewelry that belonged to your mother. Vivian has most of it, and some of it went to Genevieve's sisters-your aunts. But I saved some pieces because...I guess I hadn't given up on Genevieve still being alive. I hoped that someday she'd be able to wear it again. It never occurred to me that I would have the opportunity to give it to my daughter." He smiled, and she felt deeply sorry for him. He'd been through so much, but she couldn't be deterred from her reason for this visit.

"I apologize that love isn't so automatic for me," she said. "I need more time for that."

"That's fine, Corinne," he said kindly. "I understand. Vivian does, too."

"I think you see me as someone I'm not," she said. "You see me as your daughter. Not as Corinne."

He c.o.c.ked his head at her. "True," he said. "You are are my daughter." my daughter."

"But I'm not going to be your fantasy daughter."

He laughed. "Few children turn out to be our fantasy children," he said.

"I want you to try to understand who I am. am." She leaned forward in the chair. "I'm a good person. I'm a really great teacher. I appreciate the money you sent, because I know that you want me to have it because you care about me. About your daughter. And I would love to own and wear my mother's jewelry. I appreciate all of that. But if you really want to do something for me, it would be to help me free my...free Eve."

He lost his curious smile.

"I love love her," she said. "I need her in my life. She did a terrible thing. She-" her," she said. "I need her in my life. She did a terrible thing. She-"

"Things," he said. "Plural."

She wouldn't argue with him. "She did terrible things," she agreed. "She knows that and she's lived an exemplary life to try to make up for it. What purpose does it serve to keep her locked up?"

"It's payment, Corinne," he said calmly. "You commit a crime, you have to pay."

Crying had not been part of her plan, but she felt the tears well up in her eyes. Her throat tightened around her vocal cords, so that her words came out in a whisper.

"She is is paying," she said. "If you could see her right now, you'd know that. She can hardly walk." She took a tissue from the leather tissue holder on his desk and pressed it to her eyes. She thought of the long trip here, of having to turn around and make it again to get home. A sliver of panic ran through her and she pushed it away. She'd gotten here; she could get home again. "My mother...Eve Elliott's in pain, but she doesn't complain. I think she's paid for this her whole adult life." paying," she said. "If you could see her right now, you'd know that. She can hardly walk." She took a tissue from the leather tissue holder on his desk and pressed it to her eyes. She thought of the long trip here, of having to turn around and make it again to get home. A sliver of panic ran through her and she pushed it away. She'd gotten here; she could get home again. "My mother...Eve Elliott's in pain, but she doesn't complain. I think she's paid for this her whole adult life."

Was something shifting in him? She saw a new softness in his eyes.

"Please don't cry, dear," he said.

"If you love me...if you have this automatic love you say you do, then please don't hurt her anymore. I don't want your money or jewelry. This This is the gift I really want." is the gift I really want."

He frowned, deep lines visible across his forehead. "You don't seem to understand what you're asking of me," he said. "And of Vivian."

"I think I do," she said. "I know I'm asking a lot. I'm asking you to love not only the daughter...the child...you longed for all those years ago. I'm asking you to love me. me. Corinne Elliott." Corinne Elliott."

He stared at her, then shook his head, and as if finished with the discussion, he changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't drive long distances," he said.

She sat back in the chair, thrown off guard temporarily by the abrupt change of topic.

"I don't," she admitted. "I'm terrified of driving on the highway. I was scared the whole way here and pulled off the road a dozen times." She looked squarely into his eyes. "But some things are just too important to let fear stand in the way."

Chapter Sixty-Nine.

Dear CeeCee,When I first found out I had cancer, I felt trapped. It was the worst feeling I've ever had in my life. It didn't have much to do with death or pain or being sick or anything like that. It had to do with knowing I had no control over my life. It was like being in prison. Then one morning, I woke up with a completely new thought in my mind. I realized that only my body was trapped. My spirit was still free. What an amazing feeling that was! So I couldn't go to Europe or climb a mountain or even take you to the boardwalk at Wildwood. My spirit could still soar. It's a cliche to say that having an illness can be a gift. Sometimes, though, it's also the truth.Love, Mom A woman came to visit Eve during her third week as a prisoner in the North Carolina Correctional Inst.i.tution for Women. Eve sat down behind the sheet of Plexiglas, wondering if she was supposed to recognize her visitor. The woman was her own age, with salt-and-pepper hair, and she did not look at all familiar. Eve woman came to visit Eve during her third week as a prisoner in the North Carolina Correctional Inst.i.tution for Women. Eve sat down behind the sheet of Plexiglas, wondering if she was supposed to recognize her visitor. The woman was her own age, with salt-and-pepper hair, and she did not look at all familiar. Eve did did recognize the box the woman held on the counter in front of her, though, and her hand flew to her mouth. recognize the box the woman held on the counter in front of her, though, and her hand flew to her mouth.

She looked at her visitor. "Ronnie?" she asked.

Ronnie smiled, almost shyly. "I wasn't sure you'd remember me," she said.

"Of course I do," Eve said, then offered a white lie. "You still look like Olivia Newton-John."

"The hair's a little different." Ronnie laughed. "Not to mention the rest of the body."

Eve pointed to the box. "Is that...?"

Ronnie nodded. "I saved them," she said. "I knew how important they were to you and I've just carried them around with me from move to move, hoping someday I'd find you to give them to you. I have to admit, I never expected I'd find you here, though." She waved her hand through the air to encompa.s.s the prison.

Eve smiled. "Unreal, isn't it? I guess you know the whole story?"

"Is there anyone breathing who doesn't?" Ronnie asked. "I'm sorry, though. You were so young and Tim was so good at sucking you in."

"I'm very lucky it's only a year," Eve said. She knew she would have received a far worse sentence if Irving Russell hadn't intervened on her behalf. Why he and his daughter had had a change of heart, she would never understand, but she would be forever grateful to them for their help.

She looked at the box with longing. "I don't know if they'll let me have that in here," she said.

"They will," Ronnie nodded. "I called ahead and spoke to a woman who said they'd have to search them, which they did this morning while I was waiting. So now you can have them in your room...your cell."

"Oh, Ronnie," she said. "I can't tell you how much this means to me." She managed to ask her old friend about herself, and learned that Ronnie worked with computers, was divorced and had three children. Eve listened with as much interest and caring as she could muster, but all she wanted to do was sort through the box to find whatever words of wisdom her mother might have to offer a forty-four-year-old woman in prison.

Chapter Seventy.

One year later For once, Eve was sitting on the other side of the Plexiglas, a question in her mind that she'd been waiting decades to ask. She'd made this detour to the men's prison in Raleigh on her way to visit Cory. The men's prison felt different than the women's correctional inst.i.tution. It smelled staler, the air thicker, fouler. Women sat in the cubicles on either side of her, talking to men on the phones as Eve waited. She couldn't make out what the women were saying, but one of them was crying.

She'd been out of prison for four glorious months. She and Jack were in counseling, but she knew things would work out between the two of them. The bond was strong, and she'd married a man who was not only forgiving but committed to her, no matter what. He'd proved that during the past year and a half. Best of all, his sense of humor and playfulness were back. She had been afraid she'd killed the joy in him for all time.

Dru was home again, living with them while she taught drama at the same high school Jack had taught at so long ago. Jack had needed her there while Eve was in prison, and Eve was in no rush to push her out of the nest. Dru had a boyfriend-a terrific guy with an animated personality that matched her own. She'd be out of the nest soon enough.

The only truly dark moment Eve had experienced while in prison was during Cory's labor and delivery, when she could not be with her daughter. The memories of Genevieve were so strong during those hours when Cory was in labor, that she could see the b.l.o.o.d.y bed in the cabin whether her eyes were open or closed. Dru was with her sister in the delivery room, where Cory gave birth to a long, slender redheaded boy she named Sam, who was now nine months old and the most gorgeous grandchild in the universe. Cory'd had to give up on her dream job with the school district, though. Not because of her phobias but because of the demands of motherhood. Irving Russell was helping her out financially while she stayed at home with Sam. In a year or two, she'd go back to work, but for now, she was grateful for the help from her biological father. So far, his path and Eve's had not crossed, and she thought that was best. They would live out their lives loving the same daughter, the same grandson, in their separate spheres.

Eve's attention was suddenly drawn to the door at the back of the visiting area. Tim walked in dressed in his orange prison uniform, led by a guard who followed him right up to the cubicle. Tim smiled at her as he took his seat and lifted the phone to his ear.

"You never, ever should have admitted your part in the kidnapping," he said, instead of h.e.l.lo.

He was still handsome, bald head and all. In another setting at another time, she might still have been taken in by his eyes.

"I had to," she said. "I couldn't let you-or anyone-pay for a crime I knew you didn't commit. I appreciated that you tried to protect me, though."

"And I appreciate that you saved my life. I'd be on death row if it hadn't been for you."

She shifted in her seat. "I have to ask you something," she said. "Are you the person who sent money for Cory for all those years?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. He studied her face for so long she began to feel uncomfortable. "I need to tell you something, CeeCee," he said. "First, I'm ashamed of the guy I was back then. I had one thing on my mind, and that was helping my sister. I didn't care how I did it or who I hurt in the process. I used you and I used Genevieve Russell. You were so young and..." He hesitated.

"Gullible," she said.

"Naive." He smiled. "It made you very easy to seduce. But Genevieve had been even easier."

She was confused. "You mean...when you kidnapped her?"

"She was my Spanish professor," he said.

"Yes, I know."

Tim shrugged. "I thought I might be able to get to Russell through her, so I...started a relationship with her."

Eve gasped. "You mean...you had an affair with her?" She suddenly recalled Genevieve telling her that Tim had had an affair with a married woman.

"Her husband was so busy that it was easy," Tim said. "She needed the attention, and I think she fell in love with me. At least she said she did. But it turned out she didn't have much influence over Russell's political decisions anyway, so I ended the relationship. A few months later, I started working on the plan to kidnap her. Bets, who was my girlfriend at the time, didn't want to be in on it. And that's where you came in."

Eve shook her head. "You really were a user, weren't you," she said.

"Of everyone," he admitted. He tilted his head to look at her. "Do you understand now why I sent you money for your daughter?"

"Out of guilt?" she asked, but then the reality dawned on her. "Oh my G.o.d," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You thought she was yours!"

He nodded. "Genevieve was never sure, but in case she was was mine, I wanted to support her in whatever small way I could. Of course, I know now that she wasn't mine." He looked a little wistful. "That's best, really. Better that she has the security and status of being Russell's daughter instead of having a convict for a dad." mine, I wanted to support her in whatever small way I could. Of course, I know now that she wasn't mine." He looked a little wistful. "That's best, really. Better that she has the security and status of being Russell's daughter instead of having a convict for a dad."