That was her father’s favorite. This was nobody’s fault but her own.
Daniel Lee said none of those things. “I know. Just remember that help is a phone call away. You’re not alone.” And just like that, he ended the call, leaving her in a state of shock.
Had he just admitted that she was right? That didn’t seem possible. Someone as gorgeous and refined as Daniel Lee—he wasn’t the kind of person who owned up to his mistakes—was he?
As tempting as it was, she knew she could not hide out in the ladies’ room for the rest of her workday. Sooner or later, her bosses would send Sue to find her and then there would be another makeover session and she would have to go back to her desk and stare at the voicemail, which by now was probably approaching hundreds of messages.
But she couldn’t move just yet. She didn’t trust that man. She wasn’t entirely sure she trusted anyone.
You’re not alone.
Oh, if only that were true.
* * *
One of the many things Daniel had learned at a young age was how to blend in. Going to school in Chicago had been easy. He had been surrounded by children of Korean descent and other Asians, Eastern Europeans and Africans, in addition to Americans of all colors. Americans could look like anyone and be like anyone.
It hadn’t been that way in Seoul. Even as a child, he had stuck out. By the age of ten, he’d been taller than his mother and by the age of twelve, taller than his grandfather. His hair and eyes weren’t black. His eyes would never be as green as his half brother Zeb’s, but they were a light brown and his hair had an almost reddish look to it.
Most Americans guessed he was Asian, but Koreans knew he was American on sight.
So he had learned how to blend in. His grandfather had paid for a private tutor to instruct him on Korean social manners and Daniel had been an eager student—first, in the hope that he would fit into his grandfather’s world and then, when it became apparent he never would, just to show up the old man. Similarly, every fall when he came back to Chicago after three long months in Seoul, he had to relearn how to shake hands, how to tell American jokes—hell, even how to walk. He took longer strides in Chicago.
He was good at blending, though. Sometimes, due to his coloring, people thought he might be Hispanic. Daniel had learned not to mind. People saw what they wanted to see, which made it easier to blend in.
Take this Sunday morning, for instance. People wanted to see a potential new church member and Daniel gave them what they wanted. He was wearing a pair of brown corduroys and a thick cable knit sweater over a denim shirt. On top of all of that, he had on a ski jacket and snow boots and a knit cap pulled over his ears. He’d added a pair of glasses. In other words, he looked nothing like Daniel Lee but everything like a hipster attendee of a megachurch.
Daniel wanted to see Christine with his own eyes. He was responsible for dragging her name through the mud—that wasn’t even a question. But what if...
What if she was just as crazy as her father was? What if she was a manipulative, coldhearted woman?
He didn’t think so. When he had dug up all that dirt on her two years ago, he hadn’t found anyone who’d described her that way. She’d gone through a wild phase in high school, but lots of teenagers rebelled. Besides, Christine had settled down in college. She’d met the man who’d fathered her daughter and gotten her life together.
Until Daniel had blown it up.
It was easy to get lost in a crowd of this size. The day was cold and everyone was bundled up. Aside from his clothing, all he needed was a friendly smile and a certain eagerness in his gaze.
He let the crowd carry him into the lobby. He snagged a program and pretended to read it as he studied the crowd. He didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary, but then again, whoever was shadowing Christine was probably trying to blend in just as much as he was.
And then she walked right past him, that little girl in her arms. Marie, he mentally corrected himself. She wasn’t just a little girl. She was the child Christine would do anything to protect.
Christine didn’t notice him. She was busy chatting with her daughter, getting her puffy pink coat unzipped and the stocking cap off her head. It was the first time he’d seen Christine smile. God, she was stunning when she was happy.
Marie had a red nose and redder cheeks, but a big smile that she spread around the room. She even looked at Daniel and grinned, her blue eyes lighting up as if she had been waiting for him all this time.
It felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Marie really did have Christine’s eyes, hopeful and happy. And it seemed like Marie’s little face answered at least some of Daniel’s questions.
Then they were gone, disappearing down a long hallway with a steady stream of parents jostling other small children. The crowd began to move into the auditorium and Daniel moved with them, trying to stick to the back. He didn’t see either of the people Porter had identified as watching Christine, which was good.
Daniel had grown up going to a church where the service was performed in Korean in Chicago, but he was not deeply religious. He knew too much about people in power, which included religious leaders.
Nonetheless, it felt awkward to be spying on the woman in the house of God and even more wrong to be looking for other spies. He wanted at least one place to be a sanctuary for Christine.
She was one of the last people to come back into the auditorium as the band started up. This was the kind of church that had a rock ’n’ roll band in addition to gospel singing and hymns. It had a little bit of everything, with high definition video presentations and surround-sound audio.
He watched Christine without staring at her. As she settled into her seat, she nodded and smiled and said a few things to the people around her. People treated her as they would any good acquaintance they saw once a week—they were friendly, but not overly warm. Which was good. He wasn’t sure how far that first story had gotten. Christine as a news item hadn’t been picked up by network television yet. Wonky political sites didn’t have much reach outside of the political set. Plus, they were in Colorado, not Missouri.
The service was a solid hour and a half of preaching and singing and clapping. It was an engaging service, but Daniel wasn’t really paying attention. He was mentally running through all the potential outcomes.
Natalie had already started flooding the internet with positive mentions of Christine. Even if Christine wasn’t actually discussed in the article, Natalie was referencing her in the title to drive down search engine results on the other news articles. More official press releases would be released on Monday and Tuesday.
As tempting as it would be to think that would be that, Daniel knew better. Christine and her daughter were too tempting a target, the political writ large on something that should’ve been personal. The primary voting for the special election was a mere two months away and, God forbid Murray actually get his party’s nomination, the election was only two months after that. A lot could happen in four months.
The service ended with a thundering song that brought everyone to their feet and they stayed there, chatting with friends as the crowd thinned. Other parents made a beeline for the direction of the day care—but not Christine. She leaned on a pew, smiling at the person who’d been sitting in front of her—but Daniel noticed the way
