Her Name Was Annie by Beth Rinyu (books for 9th graders TXT) 📗

me why you’ve been the catalyst for helping Francesca finally speak out about what had happened to her so many years ago?” the reporter asked.

I hated being put on the spot, and I was certain I was going to sound like a bumbling idiot with my reply. Just say whatever is in your heart. No one can ever fault you for that. My mother’s voice played in my head so clearly as if she were sitting right beside me. That was advice she’d always give me whenever I’d get in a fight with one of my friends and would want to make amends. Then later down the road when Jack and I would get in a spat after we first got married.

“Well, I don’t think I’d say I was the catalyst for her doing this. I’d like to think of myself as being more of a support system. When this happened to her, she was just a child. A child who should’ve been able to go to her parents for help, instead of being banished someplace far away to give birth all alone, and then give that child away. I’m not saying that if she hadn’t been raped that same outcome wouldn’t have happened, but maybe if she hadn’t, she could’ve at least known she had the man she loved on her side, and maybe she wouldn’t have felt so alone. What Dominick Cavlan did to her should’ve never happened to any woman, and his lack of respect and regard for females just continued as he moved up the political ladder. His actions have caused not only his victims pain and suffering, but also the family of his victims. He deserves to be held accountable for what he’s done, and most of all he needs to be stopped from ever doing this to anyone else.” I took a deep breath, hoping I made sense.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Stephanie.” The reporter gazed at me thoughtfully. “I want to thank you, ladies, for speaking exclusively with us and sharing something so personal. I wish you both the best of luck with your healing and coming together as a family.”

“Thank you,” Francesca and I both said in unison. It felt as if a fifty-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders when the bright lights switched off and chaos stirred about in the room once again.

“That was really great.” Robin leaned over and shook both our hands. “Thank you again.” She smiled before getting pulled away in another direction by one of her staff.

“You two should take your show on the road.” Ken ambled over with his hands in his pockets, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’ll see about that once the word gets out and the shit starts hitting the fan,” Francesca remarked.

“Yeah, well, you already know he’s going to try and deny it or at least give his twisted version of it, but something tells me that the mention of the letter from his brother may have given you the upper hand.” Ken raised an eyebrow before continuing. “I’m sure the last thing he wants is for that to become public—for the world to see his brother’s dying wish.”

Part of me wondered if Francesca would take that next step and reveal something so personal to prove her point if need be, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to find out. She wasn’t doing this for fame or fortune, she was doing this to finally get the justice she’d been denied for so long. My only wish at that moment was that she would achieve it even if it was in a smaller dose than she truly deserved.

Chapter 35

SINCE MY FLIGHT was leaving super early the next morning, Ken and I opted to go out for a late afternoon drink instead of an evening one. It was refreshing to be able to talk to someone of the opposite sex like a true friend. I was at total ease in his company as we each sipped on a glass of merlot. There was no doubt he was attractive, but that attraction level didn’t go beyond friendship. Judging by his comfort level with me, I surmised he was feeling the same way. It was as if we were just two people in need of a sounding board that we found in each other.

He was fifty-one years old and only six months post-divorce. It was evident he still had strong feelings for his ex-wife. I could relate so well to that. The only difference being, my pitiful self was eight years after the fact and still stuck in a tug-of-war with my feelings for Jack. He had shared with me that he didn’t want the divorce. His wife sprang it on him out of nowhere after the last of his three boys headed off to college.

I wondered if his decision to take the job in New York was just to run away from it all and try and forget what he was feeling. Whatever the case, I admired him for making a fresh start so quickly. Maybe if I had done the same eight years ago, I wouldn’t still be living in the same home Jack and I shared as a married couple, and I wouldn’t be thinking about him at that very moment. My phone dinged from my purse with a text message. When I pulled it out, it was as if Jack was in sync with my thoughts.

Jack: Just wanted to say you did really great. Proud of you.

I stared at his text for some time before it finally occurred to me it was a little after 3:30 here, which meant it was after 6:30 on the East Coast. The nightly news had aired—the word was out, and our interview or at least a clip of it was shown to millions of people.

“Is everything okay?” Ken asked.

“The interview…it’s after six on the East Coast,” I stammered.

“Oh, shit! That’s right!” Ken reached in his pocket and grabbed his phone. “It’s