by Gina Wilkins
Trevor didn’t particularly like hearing that. He didn’t take time to analyze the reason—probably because he already knew. “I’m sorry I missed her performances.”
“It must have been so exciting living in New York,” Tara mused. “I wonder why she moved back to Honoria.”
“Her aunt Ellen thinks she was getting exhausted from the hectic pace there,” Bobbie commented, rejoining the conversation. “Jamie’s a small-town girl at heart. Once she’d had her fill of the big city, she was ready to return to her roots. Like Trevor.”
“You don’t think it had anything to do with that scandal that made all the tabloids?” Tara asked.
The silence that followed her casual comment was a heavy one.
Tara cleared her throat. “I take it none of you heard about that?”
“What scandal?” Bobbie demanded.
“Way to go, Tara,” Blake murmured.
She sent her husband a frown. “I just assumed they’d heard. As busy as the rumor mill is in Honoria, I would have thought they’d have discussed Jamie.”
“There was a lot of talk when she first moved back,” Bobbie said. “Folks started going on about her parents again, and speculating what her life must have been like in New York. Wondering how she would work out as a teacher and placing bets on how long she would stay. But no one said anything about her being involved in a scandal.”
Looking uncomfortable, Tara shifted in her chair. “I guess it was only common knowledge in New York and L.A. I wouldn’t have known about it, myself, had Blake not mentioned it back when it happened a year or so ago. And he only paid attention because I had commented that I grew up with Jamie when he pointed her out on the show.”
Trevor had waited as long as he could. As much as he detested gossip, as much as he despised tabloid journalism, he was unable to resist asking, “What was this scandal about?”
Tara and Blake exchanged glances, Tara looking remorseful, Blake faintly chiding. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured. “I know better than to—”
“Tara,” Trevor cut in firmly. “What, exactly, did you hear?”
She sighed. “Apparently, Jamie got in the middle of that nasty divorce between Celia Kelly and Alex Greer last year.”
Trevor recognized the names, of course. The two screen-and-stage stars were regulars of the tabloids. Even without following celebrity news, Trevor was aware that they’d had a steamy, very public marriage and an even uglier and more public divorce. “What did Jamie have to do with it?”
“Celia claimed that her husband was having a torrid affair with a starlet he’d met while doing a play in New York. He was photographed several times with Jamie, so the gossip columnists named her as one of the suspects. Several concluded that she was one of several girlfriends Alex had on the side. The truth is, of course, that no one really knows what happened, because Alex and Jamie both declined comment.”
“Jamie could probably have parlayed the publicity into a career boost,” Blake pointed out. “But she apparently chose not to.”
“It had to be a difficult time for Jamie,” Bobbie said. “No wonder she was ready to get away from all that and come back to Honoria.”
“No gossip or scandals in Honoria,” Caleb muttered sarcastically.
Trevor couldn’t help remembering the previous evening, when he’d found Jamie having a cozy cup of coffee with Clark Foster—another unfaithful husband in the middle of an unpleasant divorce. The mental connection made him scowl, hating himself for his instinctive distrust, resenting the old, painful memories of Melanie that hovered in the back of his mind.
“I think we’ve discussed this long enough,” Caleb concluded firmly. “It’s nothing more than a bunch of tabloid gossip, and we know better than to pay any attention to that sort of garbage. Tara, you shouldn’t have repeated it, and Trevor, you should pay no mind to it. Jamie seems like a fine young woman and she doesn’t deserve to be discussed behind her back this way.”
Tara flushed. “Sorry, Daddy. You’re absolutely right, of course.”
“My fault, I’m afraid,” Blake loyally defended his wife. “Rumors and gossip are a part of my business and I probably pay too much attention to them—which doesn’t mean I generally believe them, by the way. Just the opposite, in fact.”
Tara looked sheepishly at her brother. “I just really thought you knew…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Trevor was relieved that Emily and Wade returned with the children a few minutes later. Emily carried Abbie, while Wade followed with Claire. Clay and Sam dashed in after them, their faces sporting evidence of chocolate ice cream. After that, the conversation veered onto a new path.
Trevor only wished it was as easy to change the direction of his thoughts.
11
BY TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Jamie still hadn’t heard from Trevor. She managed to keep herself busy, doing some necessary chores around the house, making pages of notes about the play her theater group had decided on, scheduling auditions and making arrangements to use the Honoria Community Center for practices and performances. But she often thought about Trevor and wondered why he hadn’t called.
She considered calling him, but decided against it. Whatever problems Trevor was having with their relationship, he was going to have to work them out for himself. Whether he was dealing with his feelings for her, or for his late wife, there was nothing she could do to make it any easier for him. She’d just have to be patient, give him space and be there to listen when he was ready to talk.
Feeling restless, she decided she needed to get out of the house for a while. Though hot, it was too nice a day to sit inside alone, waiting for a phone call that might not come. Wearing a pair of denim shortalls over a brightly striped T-shirt, she strapped on her favorite leather sandals, ran a hand through her hair and turned on the answering machine—just in case.
She didn’t really have a destination in mind when she headed out, but she ended up at the new ice-cream parlor on Maple Street. Part of the “revitalize downtown” campaign the chamber of commerce had been pushing for the past couple of years, the parlor had been opened in an old stone-front building that had once been home to a pharmacy and soda bar. So far, the new establishment had proven quite popular.
As she entered, Jamie admired the old-fashioned decor—the Tiffany-style lights, the little round tables with bentwood chairs, the old Coca-Cola and Pepsi prints on the walls, the neon-outlined jukebox prominently displayed in a back corner. The old soda bar had been refinished and polished to a high shine, the brass fittings gleaming. It was like stepping back in time to a slower, easier era, and Jamie could almost feel herself relax as she soaked in the atmosphere.
Most of the little tables were occupied, but she spotted an empty one in the back. She’d taken only a few steps toward it when someone said her name. Turning, she smiled when she recognized Joe Cooper, a biology teacher from the high school. “Well, hi,” she said, moving toward his table. “How’s your summer going?”
He’d risen when she walked over, and shrugged in response to her question. “I’m working at the community center, supervising the summer sports program. It’s okay, but I would just as soon be back at school. How about you?”
“I’m ready to get back to work, myself. Although I am helping a group who want to start a community theater program.”
“No kidding? Sit down and tell me all about it. Unless you’re meeting someone here?”
“No. I’d love to join you.”
He held out her chair for her, then took his own again. A ponytailed blond teenager who’d been in both their classes shyly approached to take their orders. Joe ordered coffee, and Jamie requested a strawberry milk shake. When Joe confessed that he’d always had a secret yen to try acting, she immediately started trying to recruit him to audition for the play. So far, not many men had expressed interest in the group, and she needed to round up some likely prospects.
Someone put money in the jukebox and selec
ted several rocking Elvis Presley numbers. Jamie and Joe scooted their chairs closer together so they could hear each other over “Jailhouse Rock.”
“You really should try it, Joe,” she urged, leaning encouragingly toward him. “It’s a lot of fun.”
“I’m afraid I’ll make a fool of myself.”
She reached out to pat his hand, giving him a bracing smile. “As director, I can assure you I would never let that happen.”
“Hi, Jamie!”
She recognized the eager young voice immediately. She turned in her seat, spotting Sam a few feet away. “Well, hi, Sammy. How’s it going?” she asked, opening her arms.
He launched himself into them for a hug. “I’m getting ice cream. Chocolate,” he announced happily.
“Yum. Where’s—oh, there you are, Trev. Hi.” Jamie gave him the warm smile she reserved just for him.
He didn’t smile back at her. He glanced coldly from her to Joe and then back again. And then he nodded, as if she were someone he didn’t know all that well. “Hello, Jamie.”
“Where’s Abbie?” she asked, eyeing Trevor thoughtfully.
“She’s at Grandma’s house,” Sam volunteered. “Daddy and me are having a guys’ night out.”
“I’m sure you’re both enjoying that. Joe, have you met Trevor McBride and his son, Sam?”
“No, I haven’t.” Joe smiled politely and held out a hand. “Joe Cooper. Nice to meet you.”
It might have been the briefest handshake in history, Jamie thought, surprised by Trevor’s behavior. His acknowledgment of Joe’s greeting was only marginally civil. “We’ll leave you two to enjoy your desserts. Come along, Sam.”
Jamie was still frowning after Trevor in bewilderment when Joe spoke again. “Good friend?” he asked casually.
She turned her gaze back to him. “Yes.”
“He, uh, didn’t look too happy to see us together.”
Forcing a smile, she shook her head. “He’s probably just had a rough day. So, are you going to audition for the play or not?”
“You really think I can do it?”
“I’m sure you can.”
They continued the conversation for a few minutes more, and then Jamie surreptitiously glanced around in search of Trevor and Sam. She didn’t see them. Apparently, they had gotten their ice cream to go.
She wondered what Trevor’s problem had been. He couldn’t really have been annoyed that she’d been having ice cream with Joe, could he? If so, they needed to have a long talk.
WEDNESDAY MORNING started out badly enough for Trevor, but it had turned into a nightmare when his father collapsed in his office. They had been talking as they always did about their cases, and there had been no indication that anything was wrong until Caleb started to rise. And then he grabbed his chest, groaned and folded to the floor, his face as white as his snowy shirt.
Trevor practically leaped over the desk in his desperation to get to his father. “Dad? Dad!”
Still conscious, Caleb moaned and tried to speak, but he wasn’t able to form the words.
In panic, Trevor and Marie had called for an ambulance and then had sat in silent prayer until it arrived. Trevor wasn’t sure he could handle losing his father now. He wasn’t ready for this, he thought sickly. Not by a long shot.
JAMIE HEARD the news about Caleb McBride the way one usually heard things in Honoria—through the grapevine. Her friend Susan called her Wednesday evening. “I wasn’t sure you would be home,” she said. “I thought you might be with Trevor.”
Having spent the day painting and fretting about why Trevor hadn’t called, Jamie frowned. “No. He and I usually go out on Friday evenings.”
“I didn’t think you were on a date, obviously,” Susan chided. “Not with his father in the hospital.”
“In the hospital?” Jamie repeated weakly.
“You didn’t—surely you’ve heard that Caleb collapsed at work this morning? Word is that he had a heart attack.”
“No. I hadn’t heard.” The admission was painful to make. She couldn’t imagine why Trevor hadn’t called her. Wouldn’t he have known she’d want to be there with him? “Is he—is Mr. McBride—” She couldn’t get the words out.
“I’ve heard he’s going to be fine,” Susan reassured her quickly. “If it was a heart attack, apparently it was a mild one. Everyone’s talking about it, and they all seem confident that he’s going to pull through.”
“What a relief. He’s such a good man. His family would be devastated to lose him.” Trevor would be devastated, she added silently.
Why hadn’t he called?
“Thanks for letting me know, Susan,” she added when the silence at the other end of the line stretched too long.
“Sure. I just assumed you already—well, anyway, everything’s going to be okay, so there’s really no reason to worry about it.”
Susan, of course, had assumed Jamie would know that her lover’s father was in the hospital. It was a reasonable assumption. Jamie found the fact that Trevor hadn’t let her know very difficult to understand, herself.
He’d hurt her before, but cutting her out this time was too much. It was time she found out once and for all just what Trevor wanted from her. And then she would have to decide if what he wanted was enough.
TREVOR WAS RELIEVED when the children were finally tucked into bed and sleeping Thursday night. Abbie had resisted bedtime a little more than usual, which had kept Sam awake, but they’d finally dropped off. Trevor retreated to the living room, turning on the evening news at a low volume. He thought about pouring himself a drink, but he resisted. It had been almost a week since he’d had a drink—he’d decided he was getting a bit too accustomed to those bourbons-in-the-dark.
He never glanced at the telephone, but he was very aware of it sitting nearby in what seemed oddly like silent reproach. His answering machine was on, not that he had returned any calls lately. He hadn’t even responded to the two messages Jamie had left him since he’d seen her at the ice-cream parlor Tuesday.
He knew he should talk to her. It was both cowardly and rude to continue to avoid her this way, especially since she was probably expecting to see him tomorrow night, as they had for the past five Friday evenings. He simply hadn’t been able to decide what to say to her.
He still wanted her so badly he ached. So badly he felt as if his own heart was being squeezed in his chest. He didn’t like to admit that it was fear keeping him away from her—but he knew that it was.
When the phone rang, he grimaced. He had no doubt who was calling. He didn’t move, but muted the TV so he could hear her message.
Apparently, Jamie had run out of patience. “Pick up the phone, Trev, or I’m coming over there right now to see if you’re dead in the bathtub.”
She would, too. After only a momentary hesitation, he sighed and lifted the receiver, telling himself to stop being a damn coward. “I’m not dead.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She sounded satisfied that she’d finally reached him.
“I, uh, just got the kids in bed. Abbie was wound up this evening.”
“Are the children all right?”
“Yes, they’re fine.”
“I heard from the usual sources that your father has been ill. In fact, some people seem to think he had a heart attack yesterday morning. I was shocked to hear it, of course—although the person who told me assumed I had already heard.” Her voice was as brittle as glass, and he knew she was hurt that he hadn’t been the one to tell her.
“It wasn’t a heart attack,” he clarified quickly. “He had some chest pains and we took him to the hospital, but he was told it was just an ‘episode,’ whatever that means. He’s being put on a restricted diet and an exercise program, and he’s going to be closely monitored for the next few months, but he seems to be feeling pretty well today.”
“And that happened yesterday morning?”
“Yes. We were at the office.” Trevor still hadn’t fully recovered from the terror.
There had been times he could have called her, of course. Times he’d wanted to call her. Times when he had needed to hear her voice, to feel the reassuring touch of her hand. But he’d resisted, for reasons he couldn’t explain to her now, because he didn’t quite understand, himself. It had something to do with his concern about becoming too dependent on her. Needing her too much—and then not being able to hold on to her. Or discovering that, like Melanie, she wasn’t what she had seemed to be.
He had vowed that he wouldn’t get into that situation again. With anyone.
“I can think of only a couple of reasons why you didn’t call,” she continued when he remained silent. “Either I never crossed your mind, or you thought your family crisis was none of my business. Either way, it doesn’t say much for our relationship, does it? Or did it even occur to you that we have a relationship?”
He cleared his throat, scowling at the memory of seeing her sitting at that ice-cream-shop table, focusing her warm smile and bright eyes on a handsome, dark-haired man. “You’re the one who had a date with someone else just two days ago.”
“A date?” Her voice rose in what sounded like disbelief. “I didn’t have a date. Surely you aren’t talking about the ice cream I had with Joe Cooper, a coworker I happened to run into by accident. The only thing he and I talked about was the community theater, which I would have been happy to tell you about if you’d given me a chance. And as far as commitments go, I made one to you the first time I went to bed with you. Despite what you seem to believe, I don’t take that sort of thing lightly.”
The hurt he heard in her voice made him react defensively, causing all his emotional baggage to surface. Without pausing to think, he blurted, “Oh, really? So how did you end up in the tabloids last year? Something to do with another woman’s husband, I believe?”