Jennifer smoothed her hair and refused to cry.
Her daughter was alive. How could she ask for anything more?
Trent immediately spotted Jonas, with a white gauze bandage on his forehead, in the crowded waiting room. Barry was there, too, along with three more boys from the football team, a couple of girls he recognized as Ashley’s friends and a woman who appeared to be one’s mother. Also Josh Kincannon. And Anne Hooper and Jorge O’Farrell from the dealership.
And his parents.
“Well?” his father demanded. “How is she?”
Trent addressed the worry in his mother’s eyes. “She’ll be okay.”
Exhalations of relief came from every corner.
Before anyone else could pull in the oxygen to say anything, Trent looked at Josh and tipped his head toward the hallway. “You got a minute?”
Josh responded immediately, as if he’d been wanting the same thing, and they were out of sight around the corner before Trent heard the first reaction—his father’s voice demanding to know what the hell he thought he was about disappearing like that.
Part of Trent might have wished his discussion with Josh took longer, but they were in agreement on every point, so they returned to the waiting room before his father’s bluster had expended itself.
“It’s about time! I have questions for you, Trent. I want—”
“Not now.” He turned his back on his parents. “Jonas, Mr. Kincannon and I want a word with you in the hallway.”
“What the hell’s this about?” Franklin demanded from behind him.
Trent kept his eyes on Jonas.
“Talk to me here,” the kid said.
“Jonas,” Josh said, “this will be better handled in private.”
“Talk to me here,” he repeated.
Trent had had enough. “You’re suspended from school for two weeks. And you’re off the team indefinitely.”
“Wha—?”
Jonas half rose from his chair, but the wail came from behind Trent.
“He’s the best player on that sorry excuse for a team this season. What the hell is your problem, Trent?”
“You can’t,” Jonas said, apparently bolstered by Franklin’s outrage. “You can’t win without me.”
“Then we’ll lose.”
“You can’t—”
“He can, and I back him all the way,” Josh said evenly. He nodded to Darcie who’d just returned to the waiting room. “Officer Barrett, we hope the police will work with the court system to see Jonas is appropriately punished.”
“Jail? You can’t send me to jail,” he whined.
“You’ll also need to make reparations for the property damage you’ve done. You can work off the cost of repairs to Coach’s car at the dealership.”
Jonas brightened until Trent added, “As Barry’s assistant for no pay.”
Barry looked nearly as appalled as Jonas for a moment. Then a gleam stole across his eyes, and he stood straighter.
“Th-this is—is—” Jonas stuttered.
“Just the beginning,” Darcie said, taking his arm in a firm grip.
Jonas’s cool was nowhere to be seen as Darcie led him off. He looked shocked. If the kid truly absorbed that there were consequences for his actions, there might be hope for him after all.
“C’mon, all of you,” Josh said. Barry and the other team members stood. “It’s time you’re all getting home.”
As they filed out the door, followed by the younger girls and the mother, Josh looked at Trent. “Call if there’s anything anybody can do. If I can’t help, I can find somebody who can. And if there’s any more news—”
“I’ll call. Thanks, Josh.”
They shook hands. Jorge and Anne followed with the same offer, then they, too, left, leaving only the Stenners—parents and son—in the waiting room.
Slowly, Trent turned to face them. His mother’s hands worked at the shreds of a tissue. Her eyes held a sheen of tears, and a message she seemed to be trying to communicate to him without words.
Probably the same old message. Don’t anger your father. Don’t rock the boat. Go along with him. Keep the peace.
At all costs.
His father sat bolt upright, the fact that his period of silence had resulted from rage rather than restraint apparent in the popping muscles of his jaw and the rusty color of his cheeks.
“That was quite a performance,” Franklin said between gritted teeth. “I’ve always known you were a fool. Good God—the best player! How is Drago going to have a decent team again when you go throwing away your only decent player. And for what?”
“For nearly getting a girl killed. For crashing someone else’s car and putting his own life at risk. For being too damned stupid to know how damned lucky he is. How damned lucky we are. Ashley—” He swallowed hard. “Your granddaughter. Your only grandchild, lying in there, hurt.”
“He’s just a boy—”
Trent swore, sharp and emphatic. “Don’t excuse him. Don’t even try to excuse him. Who are you going to blame, huh? Who are you going to blame? Ashley?”
“Of course not. She’s a child, as well. You’re blaming children when it’s clear it’s that woman’s fault. After this there can’t be any doubt that that woman’s not a fit mother. She can’t control her daughter. We can sue for custody and—”
“Good God. I didn’t think even you could twist logic that much.” The sound that came from Trent’s throat wasn’t a laugh. It hurt too damn much for that. “I mean, I know that in your rule book, a talented football player can’t possibly be at fault—that was the core tenet of our family life. So there had to be another cause for Jonas’s misbehavior. Your favorite scapegoat was always the girl. But this time the girl’s your granddaughter. Uh-oh. That would make Ashley bad, and you can’t have that, so what are you going to do? Of course—fall back on your old standard. Jennifer Truesdale is the root of all evil.”
“That woman ruined Eric’s life.”
“Bullshit. Eric ruined Eric’s life. With a strong assist from you.”
His mother stood abruptly.
Franklin’s head snapped around. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“To see Ashley.”
“We need to talk,” Jennifer said firmly.
Ashley hadn’t slept long. Jennifer had given her ice chips, and with the nurse’s help Ashley had used the bedpan—sounding nearly like herself when she declared it “gross.”
So, once her daughter was settled again, the covers smoothed and her face relaxed, Jennifer felt it was time.
“I can’t help how I feel. I just don’t like him.” Ashley sniffled. “I know Dad isn’t really coming back. And another guy would be okay. It’s not like I’ve ever objected to any other guy.”
That wasn’t true. Ashley had heartily disliked Zeke for the short time when a few misguided people—basically Ashley and Darcie—had thought he was interested in Jennifer instead of desperately in love with Darcie.
“We can discuss Trent later. What I want to talk to you about first is what happened today. And the consequences of your actions,” she said firmly. “Darcie’s going to be here later to ask questions about what happened, and she’s going to be here as a police officer. You will tell her everything she wants to know. With full details and absolute honesty.”
“But—”
“No buts. And a little later, you and I are going to have a discussion about what you did today—the decisions you made—and the consequences that will follow those decisions.”
Jennifer thought she heard a faint noise from behind her, like the door opening. But no one came in, and she didn’t take her gaze from her daughter.
Ashley’s eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered. “If it means it’s just you and me like it used to be, I don’t care what the consequences are. I don’t want him around anymore.”
“Ashley, Trent cares about you. It would be a major change in our lives, and it would be different. But he’s a good
man. Such a…” How did she tell her daughter that he was a man unlike her father, that Trent was a man she could trust? “Such a good man. Give it time.”
“Time won’t change that he just gets in the way. I’ve missed you so much, Mom,” she sobbed.
Jennifer’s head screamed at her that Ashley had been acting out before Trent came into their lives. That her daughter had pulled away from her, not the other way around.
But her heart and her arms and her throat and her eyes all ached with the pain her daughter was experiencing. So that she felt a pain that wasn’t merely reflected, but was amplified, a pain far more acute than she would have felt on her own behalf.
Wasn’t that what motherhood was about? Feeling your child’s pain, and doing whatever was necessary to stop it?
“Oh, Ashley…” She hitched her hip onto the bed and gently held her daughter’s head to her breast. “Honey, if you feel so—”
The door opened wide suddenly. Ashley sat up, out of Jennifer’s hold.
“Grams! What are you doing here?”
Ella Stenner advanced into the room. A smile on her lips, worry in her eyes as she surveyed her granddaughter.
Jennifer got off the bed and went to the window.
She would never interfere with Ashley’s connection with her paternal grandparents, but she would never understand it, either.
“What matters is how you are, sweet girl.”
Ashley groaned and her voice sounded tear-clogged. “It was so awful, Grams.”
“I’m sure it was. Especially when you expected to be having such a good time.”
Jennifer heard the words in Ella’s usual placid tones, ran them back through her head, and still came to the same conclusion. She was criticizing Ashley.
Ashley must have felt the same shock, because all she got out was, “Uh, I…”
“I’m so glad you have not been permanently hurt, my dear. And I hope to visit with you more later. But right now, I would like to speak with your mother.” Jennifer turned from the window. Ella held Ashley’s hand but she was looking at her. “If you don’t mind?” she added.
“Ashley might—”
“She can ring for the nurse if she needs anything, can’t you, dear? Yes, see. The buzzer is right there. It is important, Jennifer.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure if it was the novelty of Ella being forceful and determined or a craven desire to avoid committing to Ashley that she would cut Trent from their lives, but she found herself following Trent’s mother into the unoccupied room designated as a chapel and taking the chair beside her.
“Did you know that Trent came here to Drago because of me? He thought it would please me if he could form a better relationship with his father. Ever since my heart attack this winter, he has been divided between being the man he is, and trying to forge some truce with Franklin. All because he believes that is what I want.”
Now it made sense. He’d come to please his mother, not his father.
Trent’s mother continued, “My greatest joy in life is also my greatest sorrow. And both are Trent. Because he is a good man, and because he had to become a good man on his own.”
Each of Ella’s words pierced Jennifer like a thorn. A thorn carrying a peculiar poison that made her body unable to move while her mind raced.
“I have many regrets in my life, Jennifer. That is one. Or, rather, it is part of perhaps the largest one that I carry. The regret of years of watching in silence as my elder son followed the path of his father.”
She studied Jennifer, then gave a small nod, as if satisfied.
“Do not misunderstand. I love Eric, because you do love your children, even if they are jerks. I suppose, at some level I even still love Franklin, though he also is a jerk.”
Jennifer felt her mouth gape. She fought sluggish muscles to close it.
“But that is my problem now, not yours any longer.” Ella patted her hand in seeming approval. “What I want to say now is that Trent is not at all like his father or brother. And although I had little to do with making him the man he is, I want more than anything for him to be happy.”
She looked directly at Jennifer, and Jennifer could do nothing but look back. It was as if the older woman willed her words into Jennifer’s mind as much as she spoke them.
“But I know that a mother’s wishes can’t simply make a child happy. And I know I have no right to talk to you of your relationship with Trent. But I feel I do have the right to say something else. Something very important. Don’t make the mistakes that I made as a mother, Jennifer. I let Eric manipulate me—play me, I think you young people say—and it hurt us all. It is hard to know whether it hurt him more or Trent, but only Trent had the strength to overcome it. I’ve had a great many years to think about what I did, and why I did it. I am ashamed to say that I think the primary reason was that I wanted my husband to like me.”
She gave a pained smile. “A sad admission. But after my heart attack I finally began to take stock of my choices in life. I did not do all that I could have to help Eric become a good man because I needed my husband’s approval. Approval I never gained anyway.”
A quake seemed to rumble through Jennifer from the core of her being. A quake that echoed with voices. Ella’s, Darcie’s, even Jennifer’s own. But the voice that came through most clearly was Trent’s.
You said what was most important was whether Ashley knew it. But that’s not true, Jen. Here, Jennifer. This is where you need approval from. The only place you need it from.
Maybe it wasn’t poison that the pricks of Ella’s words carried into Jennifer’s system. Maybe it was medicine. Just the right medicine.
“Don’t let Ashley play you the way I let Eric play me. It will only harm her, and that will break your heart in the end. Living your life, welcoming Trent’s love, are the best examples you can give Ashley,” she said. “Now I’m going to leave you here to think about what I’ve said.”
She rose, hesitated a moment, then stroked Jennifer’s hair once.
His mother’s departure from the waiting room had left silence.
His father’s silence had seethed with words unspoken—or in Franklin’s case, unshouted.
Trent’s silence had stemmed from having nothing to say to the man. And much to think about.
Giving control of what happened between them to Jennifer was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He was the man who looked ahead, who planned, who anticipated. Now he couldn’t do any of those things. Because everything was in Jennifer’s hands.
He had no idea what shape his life would take, what future his heart had. All out of his hands, and into hers.
Yes, the hardest thing he’d ever done, and the easiest decision to make.
Because it’s what she needed. She needed to know that she was in charge. Of herself. Of their future.
If she chose to be with him, she needed to know she hadn’t acted in response to what someone else expected of her. Hell, if she wanted a life with him, she would have to ignore his parent’s vociferous disapproval, along with her daughter’s and probably a fair amount of talk in town.
He swore to himself. How could he ask that of her? How could he make her overcome all that by herself, along with the past and the undeniably sticky issue of convoluted family ties? What an idiot—
“Where have you been?” His father’s demand broke the silence.
Trent saw his mother had returned.
“I went to Ashley’s room, then went with Jennifer to the chapel—” his father snorted in disgust, but his mother continued smoothly “—and then to the cafeteria.”
“Great, just great. We’ll don’t just stand there, give me my coffee.”
“It’s tea.”
“Tea? You know I don’t like tea.”
“Yes, I do know that. This is for me.”
“What?” Franklin blinked, as if he had just noticed his wife’s calm. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I had a very interesting discussion with Jennifer.”
In the instant before the next word, several things happened.
Trent opened his mouth to let the hot words steaming through his brain out. But he spotted Jennifer just outside the doorway, where his parents couldn’t see her. He thought her lips curved ever so slightly up, even though she had to be able to hear Franklin’s indictment.
His mother clunked down the cup and stood.
Franklin’s next word remained unspoken as he gawked at his wife.
“Shove it, Franklin,” Ella Stenner snapped.
Trent’s gaze whipped around to his mother.
“What did you say?” Franklin demanded.
“I said shove it. What would you know about being a fit parent? You gave Eric too much and Trent too little. You haven’t been much in the way of a husband, either. I don’t know why I was so worried about losing you.”
She looked at Trent, then toward the doorway, where Jennifer had entered. For some reason Jen didn’t look as poleaxed as Trent felt.
“You both should hear this. Your father has been siphoning money from the dealership to send to Eric.”
“Ella!”
“It’s an account he set up with a crony at the bank before he retired. I don’t know if it’s illegal, but I do know it was done without your knowledge and it’s underhanded. Get your accountant to look into it.” She turned to her husband. “I’ve told the children what they need to know. I think the rest of this should be between us, Franklin.”
As if she’d been waiting for that cue, Jennifer walked to Trent, took his hand, and started leading him out.
“Jen—?”
She kept going. He could have held her back. Easily. But that was one thing he never wanted to do to Jen, hold her back.
As he followed, Trent heard his father demand, but not with his usual bluster, “What do you think you’re doing?”
And his mother’s reply, “Sit down, Franklin. It’s my turn to talk. I figure you owe me about forty years.”
Wordlessly, Jennifer led Trent down the hallway. Acutely aware of how much could be communicated through the touch of hand to hand. The sureness of his grip. The power of his hand, gentled now, but there if she needed it. The way he kept up with her, but had no need to take the lead.
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