“The Sunday after Dad’s announcement. She’s giving you both time to respond.”
“Considerate of her.” A pause. “And how are you handling this? It sounds like there’s more to this conversation than warning me about a news story.”
I stare at the divorce papers again, and my throat tightens. “We had a fight. A bad one. I accused her of choosing her career over me, of betraying my trust.”
“Did she?”
“She says the story came to her, that she wasn’t digging into it. That she was verifying facts before bringing it to me.” I run a hand through my hair. “I found out by seeing footage from the documentary they’re filming. She was discussing the story with the director.”
“I see. And this betrayal, it’s about the story or something else?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that, sometimes, when we feel most hurt by someone, it’s not about their actions but about our fears.”
“She promised she wouldn’t investigate Dad without talking tome first.”
“And if she had told you immediately, what would you have done?”
The question forces me to really think. “I don’t think I would’ve stopped her,” I admit. “Not really. I know who he is. I’ve always known, even if I didn’t want to admit it. And those women deserve to be heard.”
“Then what are you really angry about?”
I close my eyes as the truth finally becomes clear. “It’s you I worry about. You’ve spent your life carrying his image, standing beside him. This story isn’t just going to take him down; it’s going to hurt you, too. That’s what I didn’t want Jess to be part of.”
“So, you’re not angry at Jess for doing the right thing. You’re angry because you couldn’t protect me from the fallout.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “And because she’s caught in the middle of it. It’s not fair to her, either.”
“And yet, she’s standing by her principles anyway.”
“She’s brilliant,” I say, the words tumbling out. “Fearless. Unflinchingly principled. She sees through pretense and demands authenticity from everyone around her.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me. She challenges me constantly. Makes me think. Makes me better.”
“And now she’s doing exactly what you admire her for: standing by her principles, seeking truth, refusing to be swayed by personal connections. And you’re punishing her for it.”
The realization stops me cold. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Do you know what I thought when I met Jess at the fundraiser?”
“What?”
“That she wasn’t intimidated. Not by your father, not by our world. She remained entirely observant, sharp, authentically herself. You looked at her that night like she was the only real thing in a room full of carefully crafted images.”
“I did?”
“Oh, yes. I recognized that look. It’s how I used to look at your father before reality set in.”
The comparison unsettles me. “You think I’ll end up like you and Dad? In some sort of arrangement?”
“No, I think you have the chance to build something genuine, something based on accepting each other completely, flaws and all. Real partnership means loving someone not despite who they are, but because of it.”
I hear her moving around, perhaps to a more private part of the house. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable.
“Before I was Katherine Carmichael, political wife, I was Kate Reynolds, education activist. I had fire, purpose. I compromised too much of myself for your father’s career, for the family image. I don’t regret the family we built, but I do regret losing parts of who I was.”
