Affairs of State(46)
A light went on near the door marked Studio C. “Has the show started?”
“Yup, they’re taping. Get ready.” She ushered Ariella over to the door, and opened it quietly. The lights blinded her as she stepped onto a big sound stage with cameras on all sides. Barbara Carey was sitting in a set that looked a bit like a living room, with soft chairs and a potted plant. There was an empty chair on either side of her. In a few seconds she’d be sitting in one of those looking at her father.
Her heart clenched and unclenched and she tried to keep her breathing steady.
Barbara Carey’s voice filled the air. “…a young woman who’s been plucked out of obscurity and thrust onto the world stage by the startling revelation that her father is none other than the president of the United States. Ariella Winthrop.” The PA had maneuvered her just outside the scene, so she plunged forward. Barbara stood and she shook her hand, then she sat in the seat indicated. Where was the president? She fought the urge to look around to see if he was standing offstage somewhere.
“Did you have any idea at all that your father was Ted Morrow?” Up close Ariella could see that Barbara Carey was wearing a tremendous amount of makeup, including long false eyelashes.
“Not until I read it in the papers like everyone else.”
“Had your parents told you that you were adopted?” She leaned in, sincerity shining in her famous blue eyes.
“Oh, yes, I always knew that I was adopted. They told me my mother was unmarried and too young to provide for me and that she gave me up so that I could have a better life.” Her thoughts strayed to Eleanor, so nervous and desperate to hide from the limelight. She’d rather die than be here on this stage.
“And did you ever hope to meet your birth parents?”
“I didn’t.” She frowned. People probably thought it shallow, but it was the truth. “I considered my adoptive parents to be my mother and father.”
“But they died in a tragic accident. Surely you must have wondered about the man and woman that gave you life?”
“Maybe I didn’t let myself wonder. I didn’t want to try to replace my mother and father in any way.” This was turning out to be more of an interview than she expected, and making her nervous. She wished they’d hurry up and bring Ted Morrow out. She probably wasn’t giving them the emotional yearning they were hoping for. “But I’m glad of the opportunity to meet my father.”
No one knew she’d already met her mother. She’d sworn to keep it a secret, and she’d stand by her promise.
“And you shall.” Barbara Carey stood. “Let me introduce you to your father, President Ted Morrow.”
A hush fell over the room as she rose to her feet, peering into the darkness just beyond the studio lights. The familiar face of the president emerged, tall, handsome, smiling. He looked at her and their eyes met. Her breath stuck in her lungs as he thrust out his hand and she took it. His handshake was firm and warm and she hoped it would go on forever. His eyes were so kind, and as she looked into them she saw them brimming with emotion. “Hello, Ariella. I’m very happy to meet you.” His voice was low and gruff.
Her heart beat faster and faster and her breathing grew shallow. “I’m very pleased to meet you, too.” The polite words did nothing to express the deep well of emotion suddenly rushing inside her.
His pale blue eyes locked with hers, and she could see shadows of thoughts flickering behind them. “Oh, my.” His murmur almost seemed to have come from her own mouth. Overwhelmed, their hands still clasped together, they stared at each other for a long time that seemed agonizingly short and then she felt his arms close around her back.
The breath rushed from her lungs as she hugged him back and held him with the force of twenty-eight years of unexpressed longing. She could feel his chest heaving as he held her tight. Tears fell from her eyes into the wool of his suit and she couldn’t stop them. It was too much. Feelings she’d never anticipated rocked her to her core. When they finally parted she was blinking and pretty sure that she wouldn’t be able to talk if someone asked her a question. The president’s—her father’s—eyes were wet with tears and his face still looked stunned.
He helped her to one of the seats, then took his place in the other, on the opposite side of Barbara Carey, who tactfully remained silent, letting the moment speak for itself. At last the interviewer drew in a breath. “It’s been a long time coming.” She looked from one of them to the other.