Jennifer fell asleep on the couch, dreaming about Adam and the election and the White House. She and Adam and their son were in the Oval Office. Adam was making his acceptance speech. Mary Beth walked in and began to interrupt. Adam started to yell at her and his voice got louder and louder. Jennifer woke up. The voice was the voice of Edwin Newman. The television set was still on. It was dawn.
Edwin Newman, looking exhausted, was reading the final election returns. Jennifer listened to him, her mind still half asleep.
As she started to rise from the couch she heard him say, “And here are the final results on the New York State senatorial election. In one of the most stunning upsets in years, Adam Warner has defeated the incumbent, Senator John Trowbridge, by a margin of less than one percent.”
It was over. Jennifer had lost.
26
When Jennifer walked into the office late that morning, Cynthia said, “Mr. Adams is on the line, Miss Parker. He’s been calling all morning.”
Jennifer hesitated, then said, “All right, Cynthia, I’ll take it.” She went into her office and picked up the telephone. “Hello, Adam. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. We have to talk. Are you free for lunch?”
Jennifer hesitated. “Yes.”
It had to be faced sometime.
It was the first time Jennifer had seen Adam in three weeks. She studied his face. Adam looked haggard and drawn. He should have been flushed with victory, but instead he seemed oddly nervous and uncomfortable. They ordered a lunch which neither of them ate, and they talked about the election, their words a camouflage to hide their thoughts.
The charade had become almost unbearable when, finally, Adam said, “Jennifer…” He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Mary Beth is going to have a baby.”
Hearing the words from him somehow made it an unbearable reality. “I’m sorry, darling. It—it just happened. It’s difficult to explain.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Jennifer could see the scene clearly. Mary Beth in a provocative negligee—or naked—and Adam—
“I feel like such a fool,” Adam was saying. There was an uncomfortable silence and he went on. “I got a call this morning from the chairman of the National Committee. There’s talk about grooming me as their next presidential candidate.” He hesitated. “The problem is that with Mary Beth pregnant, this would be an awkward time for me to get a divorce. I don’t know what the hell to do. I haven’t slept in three nights.” He looked at Jennifer and said, “I hate to ask this of you, but—do you think we could wait a little while until things sort themselves out?”
Jennifer looked across the table at Adam and felt such a deep ache, such an intolerable loss, that she did not think she could stand it.
“We’ll see each other as often as possible in the meantime,” Adam told her. “We—”
Jennifer forced herself to speak. “No, Adam. It’s over.”
He stared at her. “You don’t mean that. I love you, darling. We’ll find a way to—”
“There is no way. Your wife and baby aren’t going to disappear. You and I are finished. I’ve loved it. Every moment of it.”
She rose to her feet, knowing that if she did not get out of the restaurant she would start screaming. “We must never see each other again.”
She could not bear to look at his pain-filled eyes.
“Oh, God, Jennifer! Don’t do this. Please don’t do this! We—”
She did not hear the rest. She was hurrying toward the door, running out of Adam’s life.
27
Adam’s telephone calls were neither accepted nor returned. His letters were sent back unopened. On the last letter Jennifer received, she wrote the word “deceased” on the envelope and dropped it in the mail slot. It’s true, Jennifer thought. I am dead.
She had never known that such pain could exist. She had to be alone, and yet she was not alone. There was another human being inside her, a part of her and a part of Adam. And she was going to destroy it.
She forced herself to think about where she was going to have the abortion. A few years earlier an abortion would have meant some quack doctor in a dirty, sleazy back-alley room, but now that was no longer necessary. She could go to a hospital and have the operation performed by a reputable surgeon. Somewhere outside of New York City. Jennifer’s photograph had been in the newspapers too many times, she had been on television too often. She needed anonymity, someplace where no one would ask questions. There must never, never be a link between her and Adam Warner. United States Senator Adam Warner. Their baby must die anonymously.
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