Sister Anica nodded. “Go now.”
It took them fifteen minutes to reach the airport. Zoe was silent on the drive, pondering the drama awaiting her on the far side of the ocean. The media attention surrounding her New Yorker article had not abated in the month since its release. If anything, the queries had increased, thanks to Jack Fleming’s now commanding lead in the primaries—many were calling him the “presumptive nominee”—and Senator Hartman’s press release announcing the hearing and its celebrity panel. The publication of the witness list had ignited a new wave of criticism from her father’s supporters, including a stinging on-air rebuke from the hyperpartisan radio host Ben Slaughter that had gone viral on the Internet.
The most disturbing fallout of the media frenzy was not the attention itself—Zoe quickly learned how to tune it out—but the reaction of her family. Trevor had been the first to contact her about the hearing. He went out of his way to express his support, even opining that Catherine would have been honored to testify, but his confusion was plain, as were his concerns. He couldn’t understand why she was doing it.
Then came the email from Sylvia. Brief and blunt, her words triggered a seismic tremor of doubt that Zoe could still feel.
Zoe, I know why you’re doing this. It isn’t about your mother or generosity or the global poor. All of that is window-dressing. You’re angry about the past. I have a question for you: is getting even worth the price of alienating your family? You’re only twenty-nine. Think about it.
Zoe had attempted on multiple occasions to draft a reply, but in the end she sent nothing. She spent days in turmoil, harboring a wild hope that her father would reach out to her and make amends. Jack, however, left her in silence. At a low point, she considered withdrawing from the hearing, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held tightly to one of her mother’s axioms: “Speak the truth, consequences be damned.” But the doubt persisted because Sylvia was partly right. When it came to her father, the past was implicit in everything she had said and done for twelve years. She didn’t know how to let go of the anger. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Joseph pulled to a stop outside the airport terminal. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, touching her hand.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. Over the weeks, they had discussed the hearing from every possible angle, but she hadn’t told him about Sylvia’s email.
“Nervous?”
“A little. Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
He gave her a small smile. “Sometimes people have to be reminded why they should care. You have a voice. You must use it.”
His affirmation of purpose offered Zoe a lifeline. She brought her face close to his. “I love you, Joseph Kabuta,” she said, kissing him with all the passion and uncertainty in her heart. She left him there and walked into the terminal, her words replaying in her mind.
I love you, Joseph Kabuta.
I love you.
chapter 30
Washington, D.C.
May, 2012
The flight from Johannesburg landed at Washington Dulles International Airport at six thirty in the morning. After passing through customs, Zoe met Trevor outside the baggage claim and gave him a long hug. He escorted her to his black BMW M5 and tossed her luggage in the trunk.
“You like the car?” he asked, opening the door for her. “I got it last month.”
“It’s nice,” she said, slipping into the plush leather seat.
They stuck to small talk on the drive into the District. Zoe asked about his wedding plans and he rolled his eyes and gave her a rundown of all the hilarity and hysteria. The wedding itself was scheduled for January 1 in Aruba. Jenna, too, came from wealth, and her parents had agreed to fly three hundred guests to the island for the event. Zoe did the calculations in her head but kept quiet with her reservations. In the world of her birth, nothing surprised her anymore.
Trevor found a spot on the street just off Dupont Circle and showed her to his flat. “Do you want to take a nap?” he asked. “We have five hours before we need to leave.”
“I slept on the plane,” she replied. “I wouldn’t mind a shower, though.”