“Yes. The only thing I care about is Oliver Russell’s happiness.”
“But you and he were going to be—”
“It would have been a mistake for us to marry. Senator Davis’s daughter was in his life first. Obviously, he never got over her. I wish them both well.”
“This is the State Journal in Frankfort…”
And so it went.
It seemed to Leslie that half of Lexington pitied her, and the other half rejoiced at what had happened to her. Wherever Leslie went, there were whispers and hastily broken-off conversations. She was fiercely determined not to show her feelings.
“How could you let him do this to—?”
“When you truly love someone,” Leslie said firmly, “you want him to be happy. Oliver Russell is the finest human being I’ve ever known. I wish them both every happiness.”
She sent notes of apology to all those who had been invited to the wedding and returned their gifts.
Leslie had been half hoping for and half dreading the call from Oliver. Still, when it came, she was unprepared. She was shaken by the familiar sound of his voice.
“Leslie…I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then there isn’t anything to say.”
“I just wanted to explain to you how it happened. Before I met you, Jan and I were almost engaged. And when I saw her again—I—I knew that I still loved her.”
“I understand, Oliver. Goodbye.”
Five minutes later, Leslie’s secretary buzzed her. “There’s a telephone call for you on line one, Miss Stewart.”
“I don’t want to talk to—”
“It’s Senator Davis.”
The father of the bride. What does he want with me? Leslie wondered. She picked up the telephone.
A deep southern voice said, “Miss Stewart?”
“Yes.”
“This is Todd Davis. I think you and I should have a little talk.”
She hesitated. “Senator, I don’t know what we—”
“I’ll pick you up in one hour.” The line went dead.
Exactly one hour later, a limousine pulled up in front of the office building where Leslie worked. A chauffeur opened the car door for Leslie. Senator Davis was in the backseat. He was a distinguished-looking man with flowing white hair and a small, neat mustache. He had the face of a patriarch. Even in the fall he was dressed in his trademark white suit and white broad-brimmed leghorn hat. He was a classic figure from an earlier century, an old-fashioned southern gentleman.
As Leslie got into the car, Senator Davis said, “You’re a beautiful young woman.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
The limousine started off.
“I didn’t mean just physically, Miss Stewart. I’ve been hearing about the manner in which you’ve been handling this whole sordid matter. It must be very distressing for you. I couldn’t believe the news when I heard it.” His voice filled with anger. “Whatever happened to good old-fashioned morality? To tell you the truth, I’m disgusted with Oliver for treating you so shabbily. And I’m furious with Jan for marrying him. In a way, I feel guilty, because she’s my daughter. They deserve each other.” His voice was choked with emotion.
They rode in silence for a while. When Leslie finally spoke, she said, “I know Oliver. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me. What happened…just happened. I want only the best for him. He deserves that, and I wouldn’t do anything to stand in his way.”
“That’s very gracious of you.” He studied her a moment. “You really are a remarkable young lady.”
The limousine had come to a stop. Leslie looked out the window. They had reached Paris Pike, at the Kentucky Horse Center. There were more than a hundred horse farms in and around Lexington, and the largest of them was owned by Senator Davis. As far as the eye could see were white plank fences, white paddocks with red trim, and rolling Kentucky bluegrass.
Leslie and Senator Davis stepped out of the car and walked over to the fence surrounding the racetrack. They stood there a few moments, watching the beautiful animals working out.
Senator Davis turned to Leslie. “I’m a simple man,” he said quietly. “Oh, I know how that must sound to you, but it’s the truth. I was born here, and I could spend the rest of my life here. There’s no place in the world like it. Just look around you, Miss Stewart. This is as close as we may ever come to heaven. Can you blame me for not wanting to leave all this? Mark Twain said that when the world came to an end, he wanted to be in Kentucky, because it’s always a good twenty years behind. I have to spend half my life in Washington, and I loathe it.”