Introducing herself as this year's chairperson, Johnna said, "I want to thank everyone for coming today. I am sorry to inform you that Ms. Poppy Thompson, our featured artist this year, has not yet arrived. As you can see, we are already about fifteen minutes late starting. Rather than continuing to wait for and delay the luncheon further, we have decided to proceed with the unveiling without her. I am sure she will join us as soon as she can. Please feel free to go ahead and peruse the art at your leisure. Her original pieces areon loan to us today from the Emerson Children’s Museum. You may purchase signed prints of each and every one. Also, Mrs. Thompson has offered new original pieces for auction. Please make sure to look at those. We will be auctioning them off at the Gala. The luncheon will begin once she arrives."
So that was what the big pow-wow with the power queens had been about. Taking a healthy sip of her Chardonnay, Taylor breathed a sigh of relief that this was someone else's problem and felt a genuine smile graze her face. A simple, stress-free afternoon enjoying a nice lunch, some good art, and no drama sounded wonderful. She did feel some sympathy for poor Johnna, however. Edna was not an easy person to deal with when she was happy. Angered and irritated, she was downright awful.
Brushing off the thought, Taylor joined the crowd, moving into the room adjacent to the main hall, where the art was displayed. As she did so, she picked up a pamphlet about the exhibition and quickly scanned the information about the artist and art. The art had been placed on easels all around the large banquet hall. In total, there were thirty pieces. The collection, like the event, was entitledGrowing Up New York. Each photo and painting showed a different landmark around New York City. Somewhere in each one, a small boy was featured. To avoid the crowd's crush, Taylor decided to view the exhibit in reverse. She moved to the end of the still vacant room and began her viewing.
Taylor had read on the event brochure that the exhibit featured photos and paintings of the artist's son, capturing the child as he grew from newborn until pre-adolescence. Walking backward through time with the photos, Taylor was enthralled. Some photos were black and white, and others were in color. It was interesting to compare the photographs to their corresponding paintings.
All the paintings were watercolors painted with vibrant jewel tones, allowing one to fully experience each scene, even the blackand white photos. One could almost hear the city sounds in the background as the elements included were so vivid and detailed. The boy's flaming red hair was as much a statement in each painting as the landmarks in the background. Taylor had no idea how old the child was now, as the pictures had no dates posted. But, given the last time she had seen Poppy was just over twelve years ago, the first painting she viewed and the latest in the collection must have been pretty recent.
As she moved through the room, watching the child age backward, Taylor became absolutely captivated. With each new painting, she felt more and more connected to the work on a deep emotional level. She assumed it was because of her deep-seated desire to become a mother and her continued lack of success in that department.
Looking at the child, she could not help thinking that he looked exactly how she had always pictured her son looking, if she and Bennett had ever been fortunate enough to have a son minus the carrot-red hair. For some reason, that thought made Taylor chuckle to herself. Wandering around looking at the exhibit, Taylor wondered briefly who the boy's father was and why he was not featured in any of the pictures. She surmised that he probably was the one taking the touching photos. Taylor made a mental note to ask about the boy's father later.
She realized that she was enjoying herself for the first time in a really long time. She was unsure if it was the art, the wine, or the lack of responsibility, but she felt relaxed and happy. This foreign feeling was one she had not felt in a very long time. The light feeling lasted right up until the moment she made her way back to the first painting in the collection. That was when it all started to go wrong.
The crowd had moved on to the other paintings, leaving Taylor plenty of room to closely view the first painting in the exhibit. Taylor's gaze flicked back and forth from the photo and itscorresponding colorful sister painting. Both showed Poppy holding her newborn son mere seconds after his birth. In the photo, the white, cheesy vernix covered the baby's face, and he was screaming with all of his might. His round little face was drawn, his eyes tightly cinched, and his mouth wide open with his tongue thrust out. Angry screams emoted from the silent photo. Inside her head, Taylor could hear the baby's piercing cries, furious at being removed from his mother's loving, warm womb seconds earlier. The anger and injustice of his situation played entirely across his face. And Poppy. Poppy was breathtaking. Clad in a blue and white hospital gown, clutching her son with a death grip, Poppy embodied every new mother, holding her child for the first time. Tears streamed down her face as her bright red hair wildly stuck out in every direction. In the painting, as with the photo, one could hear the child's screams coming through the silent canvas. Taylor was so moved by the emotion depicted that she could not stop herself from mourning her lost moments. She had been denied the joy of ever holding her own child. The photo struck a chord in Taylor's chest that almost caused her to unleash a sob.
She had spent most of the last eight years trying desperately to have a baby. She could conceive, but getting past eleven weeks gestation has so far been impossible. Having a baby to hold in her arms was her greatest desire. Five pregnancies and five miscarriages had left her with empty arms and a broken heart.
She had been doing everything she could to heal her body and get it ready to be able to carry a child to term since her last miscarriage. Six months ago, she had undergone an experimental procedure that the doctors felt would significantly increase her chances of carrying to term.
Last month, she and Bennett had traveled to New York for her final appointment. The doctor had given her a clean bill of health and had been so encouraged by how well she had healed that shewas prescribed another round of fertility drugs and encouraged to try again.
That was the day the Anderson campaign reached out and began vetting Bennett for the vice-presidential spot. Since then, they had had no time alone to have dinner, much less try for a baby. Nevertheless, Taylor continued to take the fertility drugs faithfully while holding on to one last hope of a baby.
Perhaps it was just the hormones raging through her, but Taylor barely managed to blink back tears and keep a firm grip on her emotions as a wave of grief and hopelessness threatened to carry her away. All of the happy, positive emotions from earlier in the day were washed away. In their place was a depressed heaviness that filled her heart. She could barely breathe and instantly knew she was just moments from breaking down.
Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by women happily chatting about babies and children, was not the best place for her. She needed some fresh air to clear her mind. She needed an escape, and she needed it now.
In pure Taylor fashion, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and forged ahead. With only one thought in mind, she deliberately and methodically began making her way toward the door of the exhibit room. She had to get out of there immediately, or the carefully constructed public life she had crafted for herself was in danger of being destroyed.
Chapter 2
Office in Carrington House
Searcy, Arkansas
November 24, 2023
Harvey Cox took Taylor's hand and softly said, "I am so sorry for your losses. I had no idea how much you two were going through. On the outside, you looked like the perfect couple."
"Yes, we did, but as you know, looks can be deceiving,” replied Taylor.
Harvey nodded and said, "You are right. From what you have told me so far, it sounds like seeing the paintings of the child affected you."
"Yes, at that point in my life, I had lost hope of ever being a mom. It was what I wanted most in the world, and yet it was the one thing I could not seem to make happen no matter how hard I tried," replied Taylor.
"That must have been hard, especially once you realized your husband had a child with another woman. To be clear, at this point in your story, you had no idea that Bennett or Poppy had ever had a relationship, much less a child?" asked Harvey.
Nodding, Taylor quietly replied, "Yes, it sounds ridiculous now saying out loud, but I had no idea. I realized I should have. We justnever talked about his past. You have to remember that when Bennett and I got together, I was knee-deep in grief. I was doing all I could to get out of bed every day. Delving into Bennett's past love life was not high on my to-do list," replied Taylor.
"That makes sense," replied Harvey. "Tell me exactly when you realized they had been a couple and had a child and how that affected you."
Clearing her throat, Taylor said, "Truthfully, I did not handle it so well. I don't look back on those days as my finest moments."
"Take me back to that day and help me understand what happened."
"Well. Okay…”
