A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

  He called over a waiter and asked for two menus. “Of course, all this newfound confidence of mine could be squashed with your critique of how I did in front of the camera.” His smile told her he didn’t think it would be bad news.

  * * *

  DINNER WAS ENJOYABLE and relaxing. Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time an hour had gone by so quickly. Yes, Brooke’s critique of his performance was still the reason for this meeting, but so far the atmosphere had been comfortable. He hoped when Brooke started talking about his on-camera experience, she would be positive.

  In the meantime, he told Brooke about his past, his relationship with his mother and how he admired his sister, Phyllis.

  No matter where they ended up, Jeremy and Phyllis called and talked for hours, and visited at least two or three times a year. Jeremy told Brooke how smart Phyllis was, but that she hadn’t had the good fortune he’d found by playing football in high school. Jeremy went to Bellingsworth on a full ride. Phyllis took six years to get through college by working and attending night school. He was so proud of her and would do anything to help her now. But she didn’t need his help. She was married, with a solid career as a technical writer.

  Brooke listened attentively.

  “Sounds like you have a great bond with your sister,” she said. “I can’t imagine my life without Camryn in it. We’re very different, but it’s the bond that counts, and we have that. She’s my sister, my confidante, my best friend.”

  “I would love to meet her sometime,” Jeremy said.

  “Cammie and her husband live in the extreme Lowcountry and raise chickens and children. I bet you guys would get along.”

  Strangely, the mood shifted, and a wave of tension rose up between them. “Brooke, is something wrong?” he asked. “We still haven’t talked about the camera test.”

  When she spoke, she sounded so intense. “Then let’s get to it,” she said, motioning for the waiter to bring the check. “Thank you for dinner.”

  Jeremy left cash on the table and stood. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said. “I’m sensing maybe this restaurant isn’t the best place for us to go over my performance today.”

  “No. Maybe it isn’t.”

  They walked out of the restaurant and headed toward the station. Suddenly, he was unnaturally nervous. “So, do you want to come out to the house tomorrow or on the weekend?” he asked.

  She walked slowly, forcing him to rein in his energy and follow her lead. “Let’s decide about that after we talk.”

  Now he was uncertain. He’d thought he’d done well enough, so well that he’d opened up to her about Ally and his family. Maybe she’d just been “sympathy listening” or avoiding the real issue. “Give it to me straight, Brooke. Was I awful? Didn’t feel that way when I was talking to the camera.”

  “No, of course you weren’t awful, but there might be room for improvement.”

  “Did I stumble over any words, mispronounce some key elements of a story? In other words, did I sound like a dumb jock with delusions of grandeur?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she said.

  Okay. That was good. He’d taken a few English classes in college, and he thought he had a solid grasp of language and grammar.

  “Probably the most significant thing I noticed...” she began.

  They reached the parking garage. He held the door so she could precede him inside. She kept walking, not missing a step.

  “I found you to be a bit stiff,” she said.

  “Stiff?” he echoed. “Well, that’s a problem.”

  “Yes, sort of. You need to relax, treat the camera like an old friend that connects you to all those new friends you’re going to be making in Charleston.” She stopped, turned to face him. “Actually, I think your delivery is my fault. I’ve put so much pressure on you. And I haven’t given you enough information about how to address the camera.”

  “Obviously, we need to work on that,” he said. “I’m sure Milt won’t want a robot at the news desk.”

  “No,” she agreed. “He’s going to want to see a calm, confident professional.”

  “And do you think I can be that?”

  She didn’t answer right away, and he felt his temples throb. He must have been horrible, and she didn’t know how to tell him.

  “I think you can be,” she said. “But you need to loosen up, talk to the camera, not at the camera. We have more than two weeks to go, so no reason to panic.”

  “Panic? I wasn’t even considering panicking. But now that you brought it up...”

  She leaned against her car door. He stood in front of her. “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Not now.”

  Not now? Then when, and what?

  “It’s enough for us to work on your delivery. Why don’t you think about things you do for enjoyment, things that make you happy and calm. Things you’d like to do. If you think about those things before the red light comes on the camera, maybe you will automatically relax.”

  He rubbed the nape of his neck. He’d signed a contract with WJQC, but he supposed if he really stunk, Milt could buy him out. He thought of his kids, coming all the way from Denver. He thought about the house he’d bought in Hidden Oaks. These had all been positive steps for Jeremy, but if he had to give them up and move somewhere else and start over, he could do it. He could find another job, and he had plenty of money that would last for a while. And surely he wasn’t just a dumb jock.

  Brooke reached out, took his hand. “Jeremy, I didn’t mean to upset you. We’ve had such a lovely evening.”

  “Yeah, the calm before the storm.”

  She smiled. “Delivering on camera is difficult. It’s my job to put you at ease. And I will. I promise.”

  Her face was so serious, so determined. In a way, he was sorry he’d put so much pressure on her. She almost acted like his success was a measure of her own importance. Crazy. She was the most dedicated professional he’d ever met. He’d wondered what was in this tutoring gig for her and decided she was just that committed to her job, and the station. “Sure, Brooke. It’s all going to be fine.”

  She maintained a grip on his hand as if she was transferring her knowledge into his palm. “Yes, it will,” she said, but for the first time he wasn’t totally convinced.

  He leaned in toward her. Okay, if things didn’t work out for him here, he would move on, but he didn’t want his failure to feel like hers. Maybe he would never be better than he’d been during his test, but he didn’t want her to bear the blame. “Let’s not talk about this any more tonight,” he said. “We have time.” He placed his hand on her nape.

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  His lips met hers. He kissed her with a gentle pressure that soon had her responding as if she’d been thinking the same thing. A dimly lit parking garage. They were the only two people there. He was doing what he’d been thinking of doing for over a week now. The kiss intensified.

  When he drew back, he smiled at her. “To be perfectly honest, Brooke, that just happens to be one of the things I really enjoy doing. Maybe I need to remember holding on to you before that red light comes on. So if you want me to be a really good broadcaster, then maybe we should practice.”

  She smiled, too. “I’ll consider it. I’d like to help any way I can.”

  She got in her car and he walked to his. She’d just given him bad news about his chances at WJQC, but so what? Being a failure at WJQC wasn’t the end of the world for anyone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ON SATURDAY, FOR the first time since she’d met Jeremy, Brooke drove herself out to Hidden Oaks. Jeremy had insisted he come to pick her up, but she had said, “That’s silly. I’m perfectly capable of driving a half hour.”

  She wasn’t able to take in the countryside, as she had during her last trip into the Lowcountry residential area, but she saw enough to
day to wonder at the beauty of it all. Magnolias were beginning to blossom. Spanish moss hung like fairy’s wings from the old oak trees. The South in early June was a beautiful place to be.

  Brooke enjoyed the drive, although there was no way she could imagine ever moving into this remote rural area. She liked being able to walk a couple of blocks to get a deli sandwich or a soda. The closest movie theater was three blocks away from her condo. Some of the city’s best hotels were also within walking distance, and Brooke often strolled by them and just took in the old charm that was her home city. For sure, lots of land, open spaces and warm, humid air were nice for a person with children, but not for Brooke Montgomery. She was all about the city, and couldn’t foresee giving up the conveniences she’d grown used to. Not even for... She stopped the thought before it fully formed. As much as she’d come to admire and like Jeremy, there was no way either one of them would consider a relationship. There were just too many obstacles between them.

  Thinking of Jeremy’s children, Brooke experienced a moment of anxiety when she pulled into the circular drive in front of his house. She wasn’t concerned about Cody. They had made inroads into a comfortable relationship the last time she’d been here. But Alicia. That was another story. She’d pretty much given her word to Jeremy that she would try to communicate with the girl, which explained why Brooke had been up until the wee hours last night studying experts’ advice on grieving children and how to help them. Not that any of it would work. Hopefully, Alicia would give her a chance to try what she’d learned.

  Jeremy came out his front door when she turned off the engine of her car. If he was upset about her critique on Wednesday, he hid it well. He wore a cotton shirt with a print of various Lowcounty trees on it and beige shorts that fit him just right. Brooke sighed. Whether in a suit or casual outfits, Jeremy could wear clothes.

  He smiled as she got out of her car in a lemon-print sundress and yellow sandals. She walked around her car and he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Was this going to be the usual way of greeting each other? She wondered. If so, she didn’t believe she’d complain.

  “You look great,” he said. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

  “No, I did not,” she said. “We are working today, remember?”

  “I remember, but the kids are here, so I’m doing double duty as anchor trainee and daddy-man. Hope that’s okay.”

  “We’ll make it work. We can get a lot done if you’ve planned activities for the kids.” She looked across the expansive front yard and off to the side of the wraparound porch. She didn’t see any children. “Where are they?”

  “Upstairs changing into their bathing suits. I’ve already given them lunch and told them they could swim while we worked on the patio. Have you eaten?”

  She checked her watch. Eleven o’clock. “No, but that’s okay. I’m not particularly hungry.”

  “No worries,” he said. “Marta left fruit, cheese and crackers for us before she went off to do some shopping. I don’t think we’ll starve. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “At eleven in the morning?” She laughed. “I think I’ll pass. But iced tea would be great.”

  He walked her to his front door and through the entryway and great room to a sunny area with floor-to-ceiling windows. The last time she’d been here, she hadn’t seen much more of the house than the kitchen, which had been a disaster.

  “You can go on out,” Jeremy said. “I’ll bring the tea.”

  She sat at a patio table and opened her iPad where she’d typed up her notes from Wednesday. She and Jeremy simply had to buckle down today.

  “Hi, Brooke,” a voice hollered from the door to a cabana bathroom. Cody came outside, a towel over his arm and swim rings on his small biceps.

  “Hey, Cody. Good to see you again.”

  She must have been staring at the safety rings on his arms because he squeezed one and said, “I’m not going to need these much longer. I never learned how to swim in Colorado, but Marta takes me for lessons once a week now.”

  She smiled. “Where’d you swim in Colorado?”

  “At the Y. But Mom didn’t take me much. She said it was always too cold. I like it here better.”

  “I’m glad you do,” Brooke said. “South Carolina is a great place to do outdoor things.”

  “I’m going to get in the pool now. I want to get the whale raft before Ally takes it.”

  “Okay.”

  He started down the steps. “Will you watch me? Daddy says somebody has to do that for now when I’m little.”

  “No problem.”

  Cody was a ray of sunshine with his curly blond hair, slightly sunburned cheeks and dolphin-covered swim trunks. He seemed to be adjusting to the loss of his mother, but Brooke’s heart still ached for the emotions he must be dealing with inside.

  The cabana door slammed shut a second time, and Alicia came outside. Only three years older than Cody, she could have been a model in a Macy’s magazine. Her pink bikini with matching half skirt tied around her waist and round sunglasses with pink lenses seemed to be the latest fashion. Her flip-flops, decorated with imitation colored stones, slapped against her feet as she walked by Brooke without speaking. Her dark blond hair was tied in a ponytail.

  “Hi, Alicia,” Brooke said.

  The girl stopped, turned around. “Oh, hi. I’m getting in the pool. Daddy will want you to watch us until he comes out. I think it’s silly—”

  “He’s out,” Jeremy said, walking to the table with a tray in his hand. He placed a glass in front of Brooke and then another in front of an empty chair, which he soon filled. “Be careful, you two,” he said to his kids. “No roughhousing.”

  “I noticed Ally spoke to you this time,” Jeremy said to Brooke. “That’s an improvement.”

  Brooke didn’t respond. She doubted Alicia would have spoken if Brooke hadn’t first. But, okay, it was an improvement.

  “You didn’t say anything to her about me talking to her, did you?” Brooke asked. She didn’t want Alicia to be on pins and needles thinking she was going to get a lecture.

  “No. That has to be a spontaneous thing when you think the time is right. I trust your judgment.”

  If only you were putting your trust in anyone but me. Brooke adjusted the iPad so both she and Jeremy could see it. “Shall we start?”

  * * *

  THE TOP OF the iPad screen didn’t alarm Jeremy much. Comments for Jeremy. That could mean anything—good or bad. But the first comment shocked him into preparing himself for what was to come.

  “Flat voice?” he said. “You thought my voice was flat?”

  “Well, yes, for the purposes of WJQC, at least. Another station might feel differently.”

  She was doing her best to deliver a crushing critique under a sheen of politeness.

  “Brooke, a flat voice is a flat voice, no matter what microphone picks it up.” He shook his head. “I always considered myself the locker-room cheerleader for the Wildcats, saying things like ‘come on guys, more effort’ or ‘put your heart into it.’ A guy can’t say stuff like that with a flat voice.”

  “I’m sure you were great at building enthusiasm for a football team,” she said. “But speaking in front of a still camera with a bright red light is a lot different.” She sighed—sighed, as if she was pulling on reserves from deep within to broach this subject.

  “Let me try to explain it this way,” she said. “Years ago, voice training for TV was a fairly simple activity. Men were told to use a low, masculine timbre throughout the broadcast. Women were told to always sound like they were in their kitchens explaining how to cook.” She smiled. “Thank goodness those days are over.”

  “Yeah. Now we’re supposed to weep and wail and grind our teeth,” Jeremy said.

  “No, of course not. Newscasting took a different turn when popular anchors managed to deliver news, good and
bad, as if they were sitting in a chair next to the listener. And they did it by eye contact, honest presentation and trust building. They eliminated the monotone of their predecessors and became...well, human.”

  “And after one test, I’ve suddenly moved us all back to the subhuman age.”

  She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him. “Am I going to have to deal with this childish sarcasm for the rest of the afternoon?”

  Okay, she was right to be upset. But he’d thought he had nailed that test. And the dinner and drinks afterward. “All right, I get it,” he said. “So what do I have to do to correct my faults?”

  “One simple solution is to record your conversations. When you are talking to your kids, for example, set your phone to Record and play it back when you’re alone. That’s probably about as honest as you’re going to get in dealing with people on a face-to-face basis.”

  “You mean I should talk to the viewing audience like I talk to my kids?”

  “No, not exactly. You’re taking me too literally. But you should try to establish that kind of intimacy.”

  “I don’t know. I can try. What else?”

  She scrolled down her iPad screen. “Recognize that the human voice has peaks and valleys. It’s supposed to. A voice inflection can change in the middle of a sentence to become more listener friendly. Vary your sentences. We try to do that for the anchor before the material is loaded into the prompter, but you can eventually learn to play around with our writing to make it more comfortable for you. A short sentence every now and then is a good tactic if you want to hold someone’s attention.”

  This all made sense and turned his ideas of broadcasting upside down. He’d thought the idea was to deliver the news as blandly as possible. “Just the facts, ma’am,” as one TV police sergeant from the 50s used to say.

  “But don’t be maudlin. Show some emotion but not too much. The reason people still remember Cronkite’s reporting of the death of John Kennedy was because he showed more true emotion than he ever had before. And rightly so. The situation called for it.”