Susan’s look of appraisal said the discussion wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but she let the change of subject slide. “A gift from my mother. And since she got my name as a middle name, I may just start calling her Cory Sue.”
Alyssa laughed. “I think that’s darling. Sounds like a Cabbage Patch name.”
“It does.” Susan laid her hand against Cory’s forehead, looked comforted by the lack of heat, and jutted her chin toward Jaden. “He’s practicing with Coach Russo tonight, right?”
“Yes.” Alyssa took the calendar off the wall and noted a few dates in pencil. “Tonight, tomorrow night and then Saturday. Chris said he’d like to get time in with Jaden before the July football camp at Baileview.”
Chris Russo was a local businessman who coached football for a travel team and the high school. His strong coaching was a big part of the local teams’ success. Chris and his staff knew how to draw the best out of kids.
“Have you signed him up?” Gary’s appraising look said more than his words.
“Soon.” No way was Alyssa going to confess her complete lack of funds. Her father had put her on the payroll and refused to charge her rent for the garage apartment she’d be using once she finished repainting the walls. She’d found several half gallons of paint in the basement and used those to freshen the kitchen and living room area.
Susan carefully kept her gaze on Cory. “I’ll write the check so you can get him registered. The football camp fills up quickly and I’d hate to see Jaden miss this chance.”
“But—”
“Your mother’s right.” Gary opened the folded newspaper, scanned the headlines, muttered something derogatory about politicians and sighed. “You can pay us back later. Or get the money from Trent. He’d probably be happy to shell out for anything to do with football.”
“I’m not after Trent’s money.”
“Well if he’s wearing a suit and working for Helen, money won’t be a problem,” Gary noted. “And a man pays for his mistakes in this world.”
“Jaden isn’t a mistake.”
“He’s a brother,” Cory announced, her expression proud, her lilting voice sincere. Jaden had proven to be a wonderful big brother, gentle and protective of Cory since her birth.
Cory’s assertion reminded them of her presence. Alyssa nodded her way, ending the discussion. “Yes, he is, honey.” Straightening, she switched her gaze to Susan. “Are you okay with her while I finish up the painting out back? I should be able to move in soon.”
“Glad to. And I’m doing the evening shift tonight so you can get things done.”
“Mom—”
Susan’s look said arguing was pointless. Alyssa nodded, reading between the lines. She’d seek Trent out tonight, discern his intentions. Her father’s observation had raised a scary but valid point. Trent appeared well-set financially.
He could bankroll an attorney as a means to an end.
Destitute, living on the kindness of her parents, Alyssa couldn’t bankroll lunch. And coming off a rough winter with diminished business in their economically challenged county, she knew her parents’ funds were thin. A busy summer season would help, but Alyssa had been raised in the restaurant trade and she understood the debit and credits of a successful business. The Edge needed to bring in either more business annually or pump up their summer trade. But how?
And what on earth was she going to do about Trent?
Fear knotted again, mixed with regret. Why hadn’t she taken care of this sooner? Come forward and confessed what she’d done? If she’d met with Trent openly and honestly once he’d graduated from the academy, he’d have been upset but might have understood. At least understood better.
She’d been such a coward….
The prayer resurfaced. Dear God… Please… Please.
Lame, Alyssa. And late, besides. Good try, though. She bit her lip, grabbed an old stained sweatshirt that wouldn’t be wrecked by daubs of paint, kissed Cory’s cheek and headed out the door. “I’ve got my cell phone.”
Susan’s look encompassed the short distance from the house to the two-story carriage barn at the end of the drive. “Seriously? If I need you, I’ll walk over.”
That made Alyssa smile. “Good point.” She swept the phone a look as she tucked it into her pocket. “These things get addictive.”
“Only if you let them.” Susan’s wisdom followed her out the door.
Alyssa had missed her mother’s gentle, commonsense directives. Her humor, her steadfast belief in right and wrong, good and evil. Somewhere along the way Alyssa had blurred those borders. She’d made mistakes and made excuses.
Was it too late to begin anew? She hoped not.
Did that scare her to death?
Absolutely.
Chapter Four
Trent pounded up O’Rourke’s Hill, pushing more than usual, the thick grass beneath his feet God’s carpet, nature’s bounty.
But no matter how fast or far he ran, thoughts of Alyssa and the boy refused to be laid to rest.
His son. Half-grown. Looking more like him than he’d have thought humanly possible.
His heart clenched, or maybe it was his gut. At this pace it was hard to tell, but as he rounded the curve leading down to the motel, he saw Lyssa standing there, the evening breeze pushing her hair back, away from a face he knew as well as he knew his own.
What a pity that knowledge hadn’t gone more than skin deep.
Another clench hit, mid-stride. Stronger. Tighter. This time there was no doubt his heart was involved. He slowed his pace as she watched him approach, using the time to rein in his emotions.
She studied him, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, worry drawing her brow.
He studied her right back, masking his turmoil. The Army had trained him to show nerves of steel, flat-faced, taciturn. He had no problem employing those tactics now. Drawing near, he noticed little things without shifting his gaze.
Her hands clutched a worn purse held by a frayed strap across her shoulder. Her shoes matched the purse’s condition, a coat of polish not enough to mask the dull scuffs beneath. She wore thin blue jeans that fit loosely, not as a fashion statement, more like they were the wrong size. Her short-sleeved top wasn’t quite enough for the dropping temperatures, especially in the shadowed overhang. Goose pimples dotted her arms from the elbows down. Right now, after an eight-mile run through the hills, the shadowed cement terrace felt real good to him. He stopped just short of her, eyes locked, noting her rise of apprehension as they came face to face.
At the last minute she shifted her gaze, avoiding the intensity, a quick breath telegraphing her uneasiness.
Or guilt.
Or both.
She had good reason to feel both and he was disinclined to lighten the moment. “What do you want?”
She inhaled deeply, then brought her eyes back to his. A fresh round of goose pimples rose on her forearms, a chill coursing her.
He refused to care. He stood firm, feet braced, shoulders back, chest out. “Well?”
She mulled him a moment, her expression unreadable, her eyes pensive. “I need to know what you’re going to do.”
Trent snorted disgust and started to turn. She put a hand to his arm, her fingers soft, the grip tight. “Trent. Please.”
“Don’t ‘please’ me, Lyssa.” He swung back, shrugged her hand away and leaned forward.