They mentioned the senator’s many philanthropic activities. He was well known for his generous donations, as was his wife. It listed the numerous Senate subcommittees he’d been on, the important changes he had initiated, and said that he was one of the most respected and beloved members of the Senate. Nowhere did it mention Véronique or her mother of course. They were the best-guarded secrets of his life, that he had taken to his grave. But everything said about him spoke of a noble life, dedicated to improving conditions for others.
He had been instrumental in many of the anti-poverty programs, and she found herself wondering if he and her mother had been right to protect him from even a hint of scandal. The obituary would have read differently if a mistress in Paris and a love child had been disclosed, or a nasty divorce for those reasons. The decision not to expose him to that had been made jointly. Yet, from what he said, it was clear to Véronique that he regretted that decision in the end. She would miss him no less now than if he had been her legitimate father. The connection had been made, and even though only recent, their bond was strong. He had arrived in time to be a huge loss to her. She sat crying, thinking of everything they had said the day before. Most of all, he had told her he loved her, and always had, and her mother, and she believed him. She truly was an orphan now, and she had no one to share the loss with. She knew his death would have broken her mother’s heart, and maybe they were together now. She hoped so. His fifty-six-year marriage to Florence Astor had been an empty one, and their last years together couldn’t have been easy either if she had Alzheimer’s. It was Marie-Helene he spoke of as the love of his life.
The article said that the funeral mass would be in four days at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, and was open to the public. Burial would be private for family only. A rosary was to be said at the cathedral the night before.
She sat for hours, staring into space, thinking of him, shocked that he had slipped away so quickly, and she hadn’t seen him again. She cherished the short time they had shared, and their exchanges. She cried every time she thought of him and their conversation the day before. She wondered if he had sensed it was the end. He had been so clear and so insistent when he said he loved her.
She was still sitting on the couch with the newspaper in her hand when Doug called her. He had just seen it in the paper.
“Oh my God, Véro, I’m so sorry. He has such an impressive background. When did you last see him?”
“Not since the last time I was here, when I came to meet him. But we’ve talked a lot on the phone, I talked to him yesterday and he told me he loved me.” She was crying. “I’m an orphan now, for real.” She sobbed as she said it, and he felt terrible for her. “He told me he was sorry he didn’t stay with my mother, but maybe they were right. It would have been a huge scandal. I don’t know if they should have braved it or not,” but they hadn’t, for whatever reason. “My mother didn’t want to hurt his political future. I guess he had his eye on the presidency, but he never ran for president, just vice president, and lost anyway.”
“He did an awful lot of great stuff, if you read the article in the Times. He championed all the anti-poverty programs, and was a huge philanthropist personally. You really have to admire him for who he was. That’s quite a legacy to have someone like him as your father.”
“I know. I just wish I’d had more time with him, even now as an adult. I was fine with just my mom growing up, although it would have been nice to have him with us. But with my mom gone, he’s been very attentive and engaged, and now he’s gone too.” She’d really had a terrible year, losing both her parents, and her father so soon after he came into her life. “It’s probably stupid, but I’m going to go to the funeral. It’s open to the public, so I won’t embarrass anyone. No one will even know I’m there, but I want to be there for him. I won’t bother anyone, or approach his kids. I think my mother would have wanted me to go. He is my father after all, even if no one knows.”
“It’s going to be mobbed. Everyone admired and loved him. But I think you should go, if it’s not too hard for you.” She’d been through enough without adding more unnecessary trauma, but maybe it would give her some kind of comfort and closure to be there.
“I wish I could go with you,” he said. “I have a big shoot on Friday for Harper’s Bazaar.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said, calming down a little. The funeral gave her something to focus on. “The nurse took some of the bandages off my face today, and I just have gauze and tape now, so I won’t look like a mummy in a horror movie if I go, but I would have gone that way anyway, if I had to.” He knew she would have. She had shown nothing but guts and courage in the past ten months. He didn’t doubt that for a moment.