After the Darkness by Sidney Sheldon

Like everything else in Jack Warner’s life, his marriage to Honor Knowles had been a carefully choreographed political decision.

Fred Farrell, Jack’s campaign manager, sat him down. “Our data show you’re still perceived as too young to run for the Senate. We need to ‘mature’ your image.”

Jack was frustrated. “How? Should I grow a beard? Start wearing vests?”

“Actually the beard’s not a bad idea. But what you really need to do is get married. A couple of kids wouldn’t hurt either. The single women all love you, but you need to work on the family vote.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Karen over the weekend.”

Karen Connelly was Jack’s girlfriend of the past ten months and his first really serious love. The only daughter of a respected, political family—Karen’s father, Mitch, had once been White House chief of staff—Karen was also beautiful, intelligent and kind. She adored Jack unconditionally. The two of them had spoken often about starting a family together one day, when Karen finished grad school and Jack’s congressional schedule got less hectic. Evidently “one day” was now.

Fred Farrell frowned. “I’m not so sure Karen’s the best choice. She’s a sweet girl and all. But for your wife…”

Jack bristled. “What’s wrong with her?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her. Don’t take it personally, Jack. I’m merely saying that ideally I’d prefer someone with a little more ‘wow’ factor. Not too pretty, of course. That’s a big turnoff for your base.”

“But prettier than Karen?”

“Higher profile than Karen. It wouldn’t hurt if she were independently wealthy, too.”

“Why?”

“For the future, dear boy.” Fred Farrell shook his head despairingly. “I’m assuming your political ambitions don’t end with the Senate?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Then start thinking practically. Have you any idea how much a presidential run costs these days?”

Jack had a pretty good idea. Many a wealthy man had lost everything pursuing his White House fantasies. Even so, marrying for money seemed distasteful.

“Look, I have a girl in mind. Meet her, see what you think. No pressure.”

Three months later, Congressman Jack Warner got over his distaste and married society heiress Honor Knowles in a blaze of publicity. The day they left for their honeymoon, Karen Connelly committed suicide, slitting her wrists in the bathtub. Out of respect for Karen’s father, the press never ran the story.

For Honor Knowles, her whirlwind romance with the most eligible, dashing congressman in the country was easily the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. Ever since she was a little girl, Honor had felt overlooked. Her elder sister, Constance, was the brains of the family and their mother’s clear favorite. Grace, Honor’s younger sister, was drop-dead beautiful and had been the apple of their father’s eye when he was alive. All of which left Honor pretty much nowhere. The fact that she was bright and attractive in her own right didn’t seem to matter to anyone. I’m the fifth wheel. The backup singer no one ever notices. I’m only popular by association.

For a handsome man to single her out (and not just any handsome man but Jack Warner, a possible future president!) was so thrilling, so deliciously unexpected, that it never occurred to Honor to question Jack’s motives. Or the speed with which he hustled her down the aisle. Jack, she soon learned, did everything at speed. No sooner had he asked her out on a date than he proposed. No sooner had she accepted than he’d booked the church. No sooner had they gotten back from their honeymoon than he was on her case about getting pregnant.

“What’s the rush?” Honor laughed, stroking his sleek blond head in bed one night. She still had to pinch herself sometimes when she woke up next to Jack. He was so perfect. Not just perfect-looking but perfect on the inside, too. Noble, courageous, visionary. He wanted so many good things for America. “We’ve only been married five minutes. Can’t we just enjoy being together for a little while, first?”

But Jack was insistent. He wanted a family and he wanted it now. On their honeymoon in Tahiti, Honor had been worried. Jack got a phone call from home on their first morning at the resort that had clearly upset him. He canceled their snorkeling trip (“You go. I have to work.”) and barely spoke to Honor for the remainder of the day. That night, he kept calling out “Karen!” in his sleep. When Honor questioned him the next day, he was defensive. “Jesus, Honor. You’re cross-examining my dreams now?”

After that, he was withdrawn and morose the entire week, refusing to talk about what was troubling him and avoiding all of Honor’s attempts at closeness. He didn’t even want to make love. But when they got back to New York, to Honor’s immense relief, the black mood lifted. Suddenly he was all over her again.

He wouldn’t want to start a family if he didn’t love me, she reasoned. This is his way of saying sorry for Tahiti. And really, why should we wait? What could be sweeter than having a mini-Jack running around?

Their first daughter, Roberta, was born nine months later, followed within a year by her sister, Rose. Because the pregnancies were so close together, Honor was still carrying weight from Roberta when she conceived Rose. As a result, when Jack took her out for dinner to celebrate their second anniversary, Honor was almost fifty pounds heavier than she had been on her wedding day.

“Why don’t you start running again?” Jack suggested bluntly over the pan-fried scallops. “You could go with your sister and her trainer. Grace is looking fantastic at the moment. That guy must be doing something right.”

It was as if he’d stuck a pin in Honor’s eyeball. Grace. Why did everything always have to come back to Grace?

When Honor married Jack Warner, she felt like the star of the show for the first time in her life. Growing up, Grace had always stolen her thunder. The worst part was, she’d done it without even trying. Just by walking into a room, Grace owned it, shining with a light so blinding it obliterated Honor’s presence altogether. Honor tried hard to stamp down her feelings of jealousy and resentment. She knew Grace loved her, that she thought of Honor as her best friend. And yet there were times when Honor Knowles fantasized about her sister having an “accident.” She pictured Grace falling from the high bars, her perfect little doll’s body contorted and broken on the gym floor. Or a car accident in which Grace’s exquisite, model features were ravaged by flames. The flames of my hatred. The fantasies were shameful, but they felt good.

When Honor married Jack, she thought, All that’s behind me now. Now that I’m happy and famous, now that someone wonderful loves me, I can be the big sister Grace always wanted me to be.

It didn’t work out that way. Ironically, it was Honor who had introduced Grace to Lenny Brookstein, at one of Jack’s fund-raisers. Two weeks later, Grace announced they were in love.

At first, Honor thought she was kidding. When she realized her mistake, she felt sick to her stomach. “But, Gracie, you’re eighteen years old. He’s old enough to be your grandfather.”

“I know. It’s crazy!” Grace laughed, that sweet, tinkling laugh that made all men melt like butter on a stove. “I never thought I could feel this way about someone like Lenny but…I’m so happy, Honor. Truly. And so’s Lenny. Can’t you be happy for us?”

“Darling, I am happy. If it’s what you really want.”

But Honor wasn’t happy. She was furious.

It wasn’t enough for Grace to settle down with some normal, rich investment banker, like Connie had done. Oh no. Madam has to go and ensnare the biggest billionaire in New York. Honor Knowles’s brief moment in the sun was already fading. While she was stuck at home, fat and exhausted like a mother hen, Grace was once more the talk of the town. And now here was Jack, her own beloved husband, comparing her unfavorably to her little sister because she’d gained a few pounds giving birth to his children! It was not to be borne.

And yet Honor did bear it, stoically and in silence. The same way she bore Jack’s neglect of her and the children, his selfishness, his rampant ambition, and most recently, his infidelities. She lost the weight, every last pound of it. As far as the public was concerned, Senator Warner and his wife had a fairy-tale marriage. Honor was not about to disillusion them. The pretense was all she had left, and she kept it up, smiling at Jack loyally during his speeches, giving magazine interviews about her homemaking tips and Jack’s brilliance as a “hands-on” father. Of course, Honor knew full well that the only thing Jack had had his hands on lately were the au pair’s breasts, but she would have died rather than admit it.

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