Free The Adored by Tom Connolly Page A

them?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?’
    “Because I saw Valerie’s name on the first page I glanced at.”
    “And?’
    “You paid for Valerie’s college?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does she know that?”
    “Not as far as I know.”
    “How did this happen?” Edward said, and proceeded with what he thought was the answer; he assailed his father. “You and her mother?”
    Mark thought of trying to duck, but he was on the ropes, cornered. “Yes,” he blurted out.
    “Mrs. McGuire and you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did Mom know?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “How long did this go on? Is it still going on?”
    “No, it’s over.”
    Edward’s face was crimson with shame and anger. “How long?’
    “Long.”
    “Long? A year, two years?”
    “Almost three.”
    “Three years. Three goddamn years you had an affair with Valerie’s mother! And you knew we were in love, wanting to get married?”
    There was a pause, a deafening silence in the room as Mark tried to hang on from the pounding in his head and salvage the relationship with the boy he loved. Edward looked at his father, unmoving, trying to think of the many things this meant.
    “Why aren’t you two together? Mom’s dead. Is this the reason Val’s father took off?”
    “Probably. She said he suspected something,” Mark was breathing heavily, “That he confronted her several times when she was out late. When she seemed a little too close to me or when we would fool around or when the four of us would sail on the boat.”
    “You were friends with her father. And you would fool around in front of mom?”
    “No. It wasn’t like that. Look, Val’s parents were a great couple. Your mother and I had a lot of fun with them. But they didn’t have a pot to piss in. We all knew Val was a top student, that she was going to be part of the family, so when she got accepted to Columbia, Sue confided in me that they had no way to pay for it. We had more money than God, so your mother and I agreed to pay for it. Only Sue knew, Bill McGuire would not have accepted it, so only your mother, Sue, and I knew.”
    “And the affair, when did it start?”
    “Right after Val went off to Columbia. Sue was so proud of Val, so happy and so thankful. It just happened.”
    “And Val’s father never knew?”
    “Bill wasn’t dumb. He knew they couldn’t afford Columbia even on both their salaries. Sue tried telling him it was a combination of student loans and scholarships and their savings. She said he accepted it at first, but then Bill started putting two and two together.
    She said he confronted her several times about how they were paying for it all and still had money for travel. Then the questions shifted to her and me. Bill had figured it out. His wife and his friend. He left—just walked out the door.”
    “And what happened with you and Mrs. McGuire?”
    “It took off. Val off in school, Bill gone. I was with her every night.”
    “And mom?”
    “I covered fairly well with work. I always did work long hours. Only then, did I cut back.”
    “Mom never confronted you?”
    “No. I really don’t think she knew. She knew Sue was a flirt, but Sue was very sweet to your mother.”
    “How did it end?”
    “Guilt,” and Mark Wheelwright paused. Edward could see the tears in his eyes. “I screwed everything up. When your mother was getting sick, I should have reacted sooner. She didn’t want to bother with the doctors. Later the doctors said we could have caught it if we had acted sooner.”
    “What?” Edward fumed.
    “I know.”
    The dreadful pause reappeared. It was a silence between a father and son and all the air was leaking out. A lifetime of love was damaged, maybe beyond repair.
    “And once mom dies?”
    “When your mother died I knew what I did or rather what I didn’t do. I drank more—and more. I went to Sue’s every night—drank all night. Could barely get to work. Wasn’t effective in work during the financial crisis. Drank more. Sue finally ended it six