Part 22 (1/2)
Anita knew she'd never have a chance like this again. Go, go!
Slipping past the crush of shoulders and elbows, she made her way toward him, a flush of antic.i.p.ation making her skin tingle. His face was so kind, so open. Would he even know who she was without the layers of makeup and the thigh-high dress? She looked nothing like her mug shot, nothing like the photo they'd run in the paper a zillion times. Nothing like the woman you used to be.
Maybe that was good, or the security guys who were eyeing her now might have already clapped her in handcuffs and directed her toward the nearest squad car.
The sight of the uniformed men made her spirits sink to the hem of her gray tunic. What was she thinking, showing up like this? That she could stroll right up and meet Governor Sheppard, shake his hand, pat his cheek? Her, of all people?
With her heart pounding in a slow rhythm of despair, she surveyed the governor's entourage, desperate for a friendly face, someone she might convince to help her. There was the lieutenant governor, who-along with the mayor-opposed her pardon to begin with. No hope there. Several others she didn't recognize were standing behind him, plates in hand.
Then she saw him. The governor's son, stretched out in the gra.s.s, off to the side by himself. His jacket, shoes, and socks were cast aside, as if he were a college student cutting cla.s.ses on a warm spring day. Or a hospital patient taking his daily const.i.tutional.
Of course! She remembered the stories from the evening news. How he'd contracted some mysterious, life-threatening disease. Had open wounds that refused to heal and suffered from various painful symptoms, not the least of which was suspicion and grossly unfair judgment on the part of John Q. Public.
She'd forgotten his name. Wait...Jess. Yes, that was it. Thanks to his health problems, Jess-Governor Sheppard's only child-faced an uncertain future. A tragedy, everyone said. Even her cellmates thought it was a sad story. Gazing at him now, she saw little evidence of his illness, though his skin was drawn and his hands displayed more than one ugly scar.
His eyes were bright though.
And he was looking straight at her.
What am I supposed to do? Something, apparently. She offered him a tentative smile, waiting. His eyes beckoned her forward. Almost against her will she found herself moving in his direction, past the governor, who surely hadn't noticed her, and past his handlers, who seemed unconcerned about a stranger approaching the famous man's son.
She wanted to talk to his father-oh so much!-but maybe, just maybe, this son could get a message to him.
Reaching the bare spot of gra.s.s at his feet, she paused, close enough to gaze fully into his eyes and read his expression. What she saw there was surprising. No, shocking. It was forgiveness.
His father's pardon was one thing. A legal exercise. But this was something else again, something more profound, more permanent. It was as if-but this is ridiculous!-as if the son knew her, knew her story, all of it.
And forgave her. For all of it.
The first tear surprised her, running down her cheek, then down her neck, staining the collar of her gray tunic. He sees me! It was the only thought that would take shape in her addled brain, whirling with conflicting emotions.
But that was the whole of it: He saw her. Saw her for who she truly was. Anita. Not a wh.o.r.e, not a murderer, not a once-pretty girl who'd lost her way, not a punching bag for a parade of losers. He saw the now of her, the essence of her. And found her worthy as is.
Miraculous wasn't the half of it.
More tears followed, cascading down her face until she couldn't bear to hold up her head any longer. Her chin dropped to her chest, sending her tears dripping downward, onto the ground around his ankles, landing at last on his bruised heel.
He never said a word. Neither did she. Not even when she found herself on her knees with her wet cheek pressed against his bare feet. In the fragile silence she felt Jess's hand rest lightly on the disheveled ma.s.s of hair falling around her shoulders like a bridal veil.
She thinks I don't see her. Governor Sheppard smiled to himself, nodding as the mayor droned on and on about his plans for cleaning up the criminal element of Charleston. How could he miss those eyes full of sorrow, that face full of fear and longing? Even before he saw her, he'd sensed her presence, felt her moving toward him, reticent but determined. She was gutsy, he'd give her that. After what she'd been through, the woman held herself together well.
When the mayor paused, obviously waiting for some sign of approval, the governor presented him with a brief nod and an affirming murmur, launching the man on another laundry list of accomplishments.
The governor watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was on her knees now. Good, good. Humility became her, like a fine velvet cloak. She had an inner strength and beauty few bothered to notice. His son had seen it immediately. Jess had studied her case at length and had offered his always-wise counsel: Pardon her. As a father, he could hardly dispute his son's compa.s.sionate directive. Yes, the decision had ruffled a few feathers. So be it. He'd done that plenty of times and planned to do it plenty more.
When he finally s.h.i.+fted his gaze back to the mayor, he realized with chagrin that he'd unintentionally drawn the mayor's attention to Anita.
”Who is that s...o...b..ring all over your son, Governor?” The mayor peered at her, then leaned back, clearly appalled. ”Don't tell me it's that prost.i.tute you pardoned last week!”
He shrugged. No getting around this one. ”I believe she's the same woman, Mayor.”
”I'll call my chief of police!”
”No need.” He squeezed the man's shoulder, hoping to calm him, but above all to stop him. ”She's not breaking the law, is she? Perhaps she simply wants to express her grat.i.tude in some way.”
The mayor snorted. ”What does crying all over Jess's feet have to do with saying thank you?”
The governor fixed the man with a steady gaze. ”Not everyone is willing to touch my son.”
”I see.” The mayor s.h.i.+fted in his chair, a guilty look crossing his features. ”But...aren't you worried about his...health?”
Governor Sheppard knew his smile wouldn't soften the blow of his words. ”My son has only a short time to live. Believe me, she can do him no harm.” He turned back to watch her as she slowly dried Jess's feet with her hair. Incredible! The woman's complete lack of pride was astounding. ”Look how it delights her to do this.” He shook his head in amazement. ”Do you see her?”
The mayor exploded. ”Of course I see her!”
”No, I mean do you see how grateful she is to be forgiven?”
”What I see is a woman making an utter fool of herself in public. Look at that! She's...she's...”
”Kissing his feet,” the governor whispered. ”Splendid!”
”Are you mad, sir?” The mayor was sputtering now, his face the color of beets in a June garden. ”Do you expect your const.i.tuents to wors.h.i.+p you?”
”I'm honored when they're grateful, yes.” Reluctantly turning away from the tender scene nearby, the governor trained his eyes on the red-faced mayor. ”Unlike you, for example.”
”Me?”
”When I arrived for this event, supposedly held in my honor, you didn't even offer my son something to drink. Yet this woman has showered his feet with her tears.”
”Well...I'm...”
”And when someone splashed lemonade all over his hand, you laughed and left him dripping. Yet she dried his wet feet with her own precious hair.”
”Oh! Surely you don't...”
”And while you required me to listen to all your good deeds, she spoke not a word to my son, only kissed his feet with grat.i.tude.”
”Sir, I'm truly...I'm...”
The governor suddenly rose to his feet, catching the eye of everyone within a hundred yards. The whole corner of the garden grew silent, waiting for him to speak, as the scent of some rare perfume wafted through the air, bathing the unsuspecting crowd with its invisible glory...
Winning the Lord's Favor Without a Word:
The Sinful Woman