Audrey's Promise Read Online Free Page B

letters from campaign supporters, and cost estimates for the Crisis Center building all blurred together in a white flood of responsibility. Audrey pulled the edges of her purple bathrobe tighter across her chest. She knew how to handle a room. Her internship provided her the perfect means to study what tactics worked best in negotiations, how a simple hand gesture or body movement signaled resistance or defeat on a bill. Getting people to air their hesitations and secret motivations is why the media coined her notable nickname: The Peacemaker.
    Audrey never saw it that way. It was all about getting people to find common ground and build from there. Though common ground was harder for politicians, Audrey had a knack for making the greater good come to light. Those ten years with her mentor, Congressman Mason Nichols, taught her everything she needed to know about Texas politics.
    Despite her depression.
    In the end, it was only about the people. The battered women, the innocent kids clinging to their mothers’ arms and the helpless looks on their faces as they held Audrey’s hand. She overcame her depression by focusing on the people, depending on her strength to do what was best. If only she could use that strength to let go of her dread about this weekend.
    Ethan Tanner would be nothing but trouble. And she’d be hurt all over again. Only this time, splattered across every newspaper in Texas. Audrey turned away from the table and carried her tea to the sofa. Curling up on the cream suede cushion, she grabbed her sketchbook, which always sat on the windowsill behind the couch. Gliding the pencil over the thick paper, she created soft lines of the familiar hill next to a small pond lined with tall grass while the same thought drifted in her mind. This weekend was a mistake.
    Home for the first time in ten years. The thought sent shivers through her nerves. The pressure between her shoulders grew, along with the weight. Toting a vicious journalist with her would only make it more difficult. Why hadn’t she insisted to Miranda this was a bad idea? She needed to do this alone.
    A sip from her tea filtered warmth down her throat, and her mind lingered on Ethan’s face. Turning a new page in her sketchbook, her pencil went to work. Ethan’s tongue was too sharp to have such clean lines angling his chin and cheekbones. At first glance his face was perfectly symmetrical: eyes, ears, and nothing lopsided about his mouth. But his hairline dipped a sliver lower on the right of his forehead. When he smiled, the dimple on his left was a smidge higher than the right.
    If she used colored pencils, she might be able to fill in the exact color of his light pewter eyes, with a touch of cobalt by his pupils. But the pencil would capture the shadows between the layers in his irises. If anyone dared look through her sketchbook, she’d be embarrassed that she thought enough of a newsman to render his face. But it was one of several things Audrey kept hidden, along with a few things in her heart.
    Not that there was anything malicious. Privacy was important to her. Everyone had the right to reflect on mistakes in peace. Granted, politics eroded that privacy a bit, but it wasn’t just her life she needed to live. It was the lives of all the people who voted for her.
    One in particular.
    Her fingers caught the cynicism in Ethan’s face, almost as if he whispered liar from the paper. She closed her sketchbook and placed it back on the sill. Tea. More tea.
    The mug was empty in less than a minute. Sleep would make things seem better in the morning. Fresh perspective, fresh start . Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. The bedroom was small, but homey with a few splashes of bold colors in the furniture. Other than the full bed with its lavender comforter, the bookcase against the far wall was the largest item in the room. She ran her fingers across the volumes and chose her favorite, Emma by Jane Austen.
    Her suitcase had sat at the foot of