Right Brother (19 page)

With the football team's final roster being posted this morning, then practice this afternoon, he wasn't supposed to have been here until this evening. She'd thought she would have more time.

She went directly to her office, putting her purse on the desk. Some level of her mind took in that someone had moved the pad with today's list on it. And the stack of papers ready
for her to look through had been shifted, as if by someone's elbow when they sat by the computer.

But that minor mystery would wait.

First, she had to break her own heart.

She went to Trent's office, knocked on the open door and walked in, knowing she had to do it now. Do it fast. And do it here, where they would be constrained by potential witnesses through the window to the showroom.

“Trent, we have to talk.”

Belatedly, she realized he'd been pacing. What on earth…?

He'd spun around at her voice, his eyes alight and his mouth smiling at seeing her. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

He came toward her.

Before he could touch her, before he could make her forget what she needed to say, she rushed out the first words that came to her. “There are all these things between us, and we've never dealt with them, and they just sit there getting bigger and bigger.”

He'd stopped at the words
between us
. “Like what?”

“Like why you really came here this summer. I know why you wanted to get away, I can understand that, but why did you come back? I thought it might have been for your father, to try to finally win his approval.”

His face twisted.

She reached toward him, then dropped her hand.

“No, no, I know that isn't the truth now. And I'm glad, because I don't think that man will ever…but Trent, why? And why did you stay?”

“I stayed because you and Ashley needed help.”

She sucked in a breath. “You stayed out of charity? Duty?”

“At the beginning, yeah. I started asking questions and—”

She didn't think so many emotions could be packed into one heart at the same time. God, she didn't want to be a char
ity case, especially not his charity case. And yet, how could she pretend she hadn't needed financial help? How could she ignore that if she hadn't been the one receiving his aid she would have thought what a kind and generous man he was?

“I knew Eric left you with nothing but debts.”

“And is that what this—” she gestured from him to herself and back “—is about? Stepping in for Eric?”

“God, no, Jen. You've got to—”

“But why don't you ever ask about Eric? It's there—my past with him—right there between us. It would be natural for you to want to know about my ex-husband, and my God, he's your brother! But you never ask. It's like he doesn't exist.”

“I asked at the start. You made it clear you didn't want to discuss it.”

“You were a stranger. You don't think now—? Well, I'm telling you now whether you want to hear it or not. I left him because he'd started to tear down Ashley the way he'd been tearing me down. Not with fists, not with big, dramatic scenes, but with a word here, a word there. Making her think she was only as good as she looked. That nothing inside her head mattered.”

He reached toward her. She backed away, but his fingertips brushed her arm, and the warmth and the ache were so strong she knew she'd never finish if he really touched her.

“Trent, we can't be together anymore. Ever.”

Silence roared like a dam bursting in her head.

No, like ice cracking all around her, splintering into fragments that pitched her deep into the frigid waters, just as she'd always feared.

Just when she thought it might take her under for good, the phone rang, a slash of sound scraping her nerves.

Trent didn't move, didn't take his eyes from her.

It rang again.

And a third time.

She stepped toward the desk.

He moved between her and the phone. His shoulders were tight, his face hewn close to its strong bones, the thin scar on his nose standing out white against his skin. “Let it ring.”

“It could be Ashley. She was upset this morning.”

His expression shifted. She could almost hear the
Oh, was she?
going through his mind.

Without breaking their look, he swung around closer to the desk.

“We haven't finished this talk.” He reached over and punched the speaker button. “Yes.”

“Trent? It's Linc.”

“Linc—”

She wasn't sure what had been in that solitary word. Warning? Weariness? Impatience? And his friend was too intent on what he had to say to hear anything in Trent's voice.

“Have you questioned Jennifer about if she had anything to do with that fishy account yet?”

She sucked in a breath that burned through her lungs into her heart and down to her gut with the flame of betrayal.
Questioned. Her.

The man she'd fallen in love with. The man who'd believe in her more than she'd believed in herself.

“Linc. That's not—”

Trent was looking at her, trying to connect with her gaze. She turned her back.

“Well, don't,” Linc said. “I mean,
do
talk to her, but I wanted to get to you before you did. My friend did more digging, and it turns out Jennifer's the one who was making the inquiries that got them started looking at this. I was as wrong about this as I was about investigating her at the start.”

Silence.

“Trent? Did you hear me? I thought you'd be glad.”

“Yeah.” Trent sounded weary, depleted. “I gotta go, Linc.”

“You want me to keep checking into this account?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

The phone cut off before Linc finished his goodbye.

“You investigated me,” Jennifer said. Her voice sounded almost normal. She was a better actress than she'd known.

“No, I didn't. Linc did. But, yes, I listened when he told me what he found out. It was mostly about the divorce, and how you and Ashley were struggling. I also talked with Judge Dixon.”

Still with her back to him, she nodded once, the movement rigidly precise. “I can understand that. You had to be careful about the person you were going into business with.”

“Jen.”

“When this other thing came up, of course you had to look at everyone. It's not Anne Hooper, you know.”

“I already figured that out. She doesn't have the authority.”

She faced him then. “And, of course, you thought it was me, so you didn't need to consider Anne.”

“I never thought it was you.”

“You looked in my office. That's why you came in early.”

“Yes. I came in early. And yes, I went in your office.”

“You could have asked me, Trent.”

“Could I? I went in your office, and I sat there, but I didn't look in your desk or on your computer or at your papers. I know you didn't do it. But tell me, when could I have asked you? When you were making sure nobody ever saw us in public? When you were hiding our relationship from your daughter?”

“That's not fair.”

“Yeah? Well, then on a strictly professional level, why didn't you tell me about the inquiries you were making about this account? Why didn't you even talk to me about that?”

“Because you didn't want to hear about the dealership.
Because you wanted to wash your hands of it, push it away from you, just the way you do with family. Because you think hiding away from it will make it all better, just the way you think hiding away from family will make that all go away.”

“So I'm going to be cut out of your life because I don't want to buddy up with Franklin Stenner? Or is it Eric you want me to bond with?”

“They're not your only family. Ashley's your family, too. But you've had nothing to do with her. Ever since you came to town—”

“She wants nothing to do with me.”

“She's a child and she's been hurt.”

“Even if she wanted to get to know me, you wouldn't let it happen. Any time I talk to the kid, you come running to get between us.”

“Do you think I want her to hear how much you hate your family?”

He raised his hands. “You're right. You're right. I'm no good at family. Never have been, never will be. You're doing the right thing. Dump me now, before this gets any harder.”

“I—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jennifer spun around, gaping at Franklin and Ella Stenner standing in the doorway.

Before she could react, Trent moved in front of her, practically shouldering her aside, knocking her hip against the desk.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?” Trent demanded of his father.

“What else could I do when I heard what a fool you were making of yourself? And a hell of a trip it's been, with the damned incompetent airline leaving us circling forever before finally getting us on the ground. And the rip-off car rentals can't even get a simple reservation straight. As if it weren't
bad enough to hear the things I've been hearing about what's going on here—giving away my parts collection to fools on the Internet, some idiot idea about a fund going to that money-grasping woman, along with a charity job that—”

“That fund is for Ashley,” Jennifer said. She didn't give one damn if this man considered her money-grasping, but she would not let the other lies stand. “And my job is not charity.”

Franklin stared as if she had two heads. She couldn't blame him for being surprised. She'd never stood up to him in all the years he'd known her. Hell, she hadn't stood up for herself much at all for most of her life.

He dismissed her with a one-word opinion.

Trent stepped forward menacingly, further masking her from his father. “Apologize.”

The phone rang. No one even looked toward it.

“Wha—? I will not. What is the matter with you?”

“You heard me. Apologize to Jennifer. Now.”

“Oh, my God. She's got her hooks into you!” He laughed, a nasty sound.

The phone rang again. Ella Stenner edged around her husband.

He didn't even look at her. “I was a fool to think you were man enough to deal with this dealership. Like you could do better than your brother. He had mountains to overcome.” He glared at Jennifer. “But he escaped, and now you're fool enough to walk right in and—”

“I love Jennifer.”

That silenced the entire room so completely that it almost seemed to Jennifer that they were caught in freeze-frame. Never to be released. They would be caught like this forever.

Then the phone rang again.

Ella lifted the receiver and said a soft, polite, “Hello?”

It seemed to unfreeze Franklin. He advanced on his son.
“You idiot. You fool. You think you want her because Eric had her? I always knew you were jealous of him. Never could keep up. You aren't worth—”

“Don't!” Jennifer cried, drowning out Franklin's words. “Trent is the smartest, hardest working—”

But she couldn't stop the man. He shouted over her, thrusting his face at Trent. “To think I thought having you run Stenner Autos—”

“I'm not running it.” Trent was still icy-cold. “Jennifer is. She's the general manager. And she's doing a damned good job of it. Better than any Stenner ever has.”

Red-faced, veins on his forehead bulging, Franklin Stenner could not get a word out.

Ella's voice came over the garbled sounds. “Jennifer.”

She turned to her ex-mother-in-law, who stood behind the desk, her face white.

She held the phone receiver toward Jennifer. “It's someone from the police. They say Ashley's been in an accident.”

T
he nurse firmly escorted Jennifer out of the curtain-enclosed cubicle where her daughter lay, bloodied and hurt.

“We'll make her more comfortable,” the nurse said, “then move her to where you'll have some privacy. Give us a few minutes. We'll come get you.”

Jennifer was vaguely aware of Trent beside her, hand under her elbow, holding her up, as he had from the moment the phone call came.

She'd taken the phone, heard Darcie say, “She's going to be okay. You hear me, Jennifer? She's hurt, but she's going to be okay. She's at the hospital.”

She'd hung up and started to walk out, when Trent grabbed her arm.

“You're not driving.”

“I'm fine. I'm going—”

“You are not driving.” He'd held on to her arm, while he
shouted to someone to get Jennifer's purse, then he'd guided her to his car. He had the motor running when someone ran up with the purse.

At the hospital, he'd simply refused to leave her, no matter what she or the nurses said. He stood beside her, silent, as he was now.

The doctor who'd been treating Ashley came out of the enclosure. “Doctor,” Jennifer said, her throat tight. “Please tell me. Is Ashley—”

He kept walking, so she kept pace with him, aware of Trent on her other side.

“She's going to be fine,” the doctor said. “The concussion's mild. No internal bleeding. She'll need stitches in her leg. I'll do that shortly.”

“But…you're sure? All that blood… She looks so…”

“She split her scalp. That bleeds a lot, but it'll heal okay and her hair will hide any scarring. She'll be good and sore for a while.”

“I see. Yes, thank you, doctor.”

He peeled off to a side corridor. She stopped, and Trent's hand immediately came under her elbow.

Darcie, in uniform, appeared at the end of the corridor, coming toward them. “How is she?”

“She'll be okay.” Jennifer's voice wobbled for the first time.

“Mild concussion, cuts, bruises,” Trent said. “They've stitched her scalp, but have to clean her leg more before they stitch up a cut there.”

Darcie expelled a relieved breath. “Okay. There's a boatload of people waiting to hear how she is. Do you want to—?”

Jennifer shook her head. “They're moving her. I'm waiting here until I can go back. Darcie, how did this happen? She said something about a car? Did someone hit her with a car?”

“No. She was in a car when it crashed.”

“Whose car? She and Courtney and Sarah were supposed to ride their bikes to school.”

“From what I can tell, they did. They were locking them up in the lot between the middle school and the high school. Then she saw Jonas Meltini about to get in a car nearby, and her friends said Ashley just got in the passenger seat, even though Jonas was shouting at her about it being
all her fault
.” Darcie slanted a look at Trent. “Turns out Jonas was upset about not being named a starter on the football team. The car wasn't his. It was Coach Brookenheimer's. Apparently kids around when the team list was posted heard Jonas shouting he was going to
show him, show them all
.”

“Jonas was wrong about Ashley being any part of his not being the starter,” Trent said from behind Jennifer. “He earned that all on his own—but I did tell him to stay away from Ashley.”

Jennifer twisted around to look at him. His eyes were so intense she thought she could dive into them and never return.

But Darcie cleared her throat.

“Jonas isn't saying, but I suspect he was heading for the dealership, possibly with a demolition derby in mind. But he blew a stop sign, and a garbage truck hit the passenger side.”

Jennifer closed her eyes, fighting off nausea.

“The truck wasn't going very fast or it could have been a whole lot worse. The driver radioed it in, and I was there before the ambulance. She was scared, but she knew me, her color looked good, and she didn't lose consciousness, so I was pretty sure…”

She grasped her friend's arm. “Thank you, Darcie. I'm glad you were the one there. Is Jonas okay? Anyone else hurt?”

“Jonas has a cut on the head and bruises. I've parked him in the waiting room for now. Nobody else is hurt. The garbage truck barely had a dent. I've got to go talk to the driver now.”

“Okay. Thank you, Darcie. Thank you so much.”

After Darcie left neither she nor Trent said anything for a period of time that she felt no watch could measure. She found herself leaning into him, her shoulder against his chest. Still able to stand alone, but seeking the comfort of contact.

“Jen, I need you to know that I meant what I said before.” His voice came low and steady and warm, the faint vibration of his words communicating to her through his chest wall to her shoulder and into her bloodstream. “I love you.”

“Trent, you were angry at your father. You had every right to be. And to strike out at him—”

He turned her toward him, holding on to her shoulders.

“Jen, loving you has nothing to do with striking out, or with my father or Eric or anyone else. What's between us is between us. I know you're feeling good about your family, with your brother and your parents coming around some. But it's different with my family. You should know that better than anybody. As a kid, I kept my distance as self-preservation. But for a long time now it's been a conscious choice. If it weren't for Mom…

“Remember what you said when I asked if you knew what a great mother you are?” He seemed to know she couldn't answer, because he went on. “You said what was most important was whether Ashley knew it. But that's not true, Jen. No more than it's my father or Eric or me or the whole damned world who says if you're okay. It's you.” He pressed two fingertips just under her collarbone. “Here, Jennifer. This is where you need approval from. The only place you need it from.

“No, don't pull away.” His arms encircled her shoulders, drawing her into his warmth. “Let me say the rest. I need to say this now. That's why, whatever you want, I'll back you. Even if it's my walking away. But it's got to be what
you
want, Jen. Not what you think Ashley wants. And if you're willing
to give us a chance, I'll do my damnedest to make us a family. To help you teach Ashley the lessons it took both of us all those hard knocks in the head to learn.

“The idea of being a father scares me to death. And I know…” His voice broke, and Jennifer thought that if he hadn't had his arms around her she might have sunk to the floor. “I know it won't happen in some blinding miracle. It'll take time and hard work—I've got time and I'm good at hard work. The only miracle I need is you.”

“Ms. Truesdale?” The nurse came down the hall toward them. “Would you like to come in and see Ashley now?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, please.”

Trent held her a second longer, then released her.

“I'll let the folks in the waiting room know.”

“Thank you, Trent.” Her eyes filled with tears, though he wouldn't be able to see them because she had taken a step away. She reached back, and found his arm, curling her fingers around it. “Thank you for everything.”

Then she followed the nurse down the hallway to her daughter.

 

Jennifer stopped just inside the door, and tried to gather her strength so she could lend some to Ashley, just as Trent had done for her.

She wasn't sure that seeing Ashley looking so small and pale in the hospital bed wasn't worse than that first sight in the emergency cubicle. Despite the blood and frightening view of her clothes cut off her, there'd been the clarity of paring life to its essential fact—her daughter was alive.

Now, the complications of living came rushing in.

“Don't let him come in here, Mommy,” her daughter said in a small, weak voice.

It broke Jennifer's trance and she went to the bedside.

“What, darling? Who?” She smoothed Ashley's hair back from her forehead.

Her daughter clasped her hand.

“I don't want him here. He's not Daddy. If we can't have Daddy, I want it to be just us. Like it used to be. Just us.”

The girl's voice trailed off, and her eyelids drifted closed.

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.”