A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

  He returned, set the tray on the coffee table and the drinks on coasters.

  “It must have been an inconvenience for you to come here on a Saturday,” she said. “Your children aren’t in school.”

  “Believe me, they’ll make me pay for abandoning them when I get home. I promised them a movie and ice cream. Right now my housekeeper is staying with them.”

  “Must be nice to have help,” Brooke said.

  “Finding Marta has made this whole transition a lot easier for me. She agreed to live in and has done more than just keep the house in order and watch the kids. She knows all about hanging pictures and buying the right colored towels. I could probably live with magazine photos on the walls and burlap in the bathroom.”

  Brooke laughed. She found his appreciation of his housekeeper a nice aspect of his personality. “Where do you want to start today?” she asked him. “This is officially day one of newsroom training, since I sort of spoiled yesterday’s session by tripping over my own feet.”

  “You’re the expert,” he said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  “Okay. I think we should start by acquainting you with the city of Charleston.”

  He nodded, then took a bite of salad. “This is good.”

  “Glad you like it. Now...basically a good newsperson is always aware of the demographics of the city he broadcasts to. What do you know about Charleston?”

  He swallowed, drank some tea and thought a moment. He was taking a while to answer, prompting her to think he didn’t know much. She hadn’t intended to embarrass him, but he was going to have to be an expert on the city she loved.

  He cleared his throat and rattled off many up-to-date statistics about the city and its population.

  Pretty good. He’d done some research. “How does all that affect a news broadcast?”

  He settled back against the sofa, crossed his legs and finally looked relaxed. “You take New York or Los Angeles, for instance,” he began. “For Charlestonians, greater emphasis should probably be placed on state and local stories.”

  He was absolutely right. WJQC had always tried to fill their five o’clock reporting with stories that would interest folks from South Carolina, leaving a skirmish in the Ukraine to the eleven o’clock news team.

  When Brooke challenged Jeremy about the significance of these various details and their relevance to reporting, he had ready answers.

  “You’ve done your homework,” she told him.

  “I try to. Through the last years, though, my homework has been memorizing passing plays for the Wildcats. This is, excuse the cliché, a very different ball game.”

  They went on to discuss the city’s neighborhoods, political leanings, school districts and more. When Brooke next looked at her clock, the salad bowl was empty and an hour and a half had passed. If she’d thought that Jeremy Crockett was going to prove himself to be a dumb jock, she was wrong.

  After another hour, Brooke sighed at a natural break in their conversation. “That’s probably enough for today,” she said.

  “It’s almost four o’clock,” he said. “Hope I haven’t tired you out.” He tapped his tablet on his knee. “I’ve got a lot of good notes here.”

  “You did great,” she said. “I’m really impressed.”

  “Maybe you should hold that praise until after another session, but I’m glad you think that.” He stood and looked down at her. “I am serious about helping you rehab that ankle,” he said. “I’d be glad to give you some pointers that have proven to work.”

  Her face flushed warm. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But if I have to, I could hire a physical therapist, and, well...” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding like a prude...or worse, like someone who might actually enjoy his help.

  “It’s okay,” he said, letting her off the hook. “Keep it in mind. I’ve helped lots of guys with rehab in the past, guys with injuries similar to yours.”

  Lots of guys. No, this would never work. She couldn’t possibly let Jeremy get close to her. He’d already surprised her with his knowledge and enthusiasm for the city. She already liked him, and that wasn’t part of her plan. She just wanted to make him camera-ready, earn her bonus, maintain her job and get back to looking for Edward. If she liked Jeremy too much, her emotions might throw her off her goal, and that couldn’t happen.

  “I suppose we’ll have to see how Monday plays out,” she said. “Maybe we can get in an hour or so then.”

  “I’d like to get into the technical stuff, like camera operation.”

  She smiled, finding it easy to do. “Oh, you will. That’s always fun.”

  She followed him to the door, where he stopped and placed his large hand on her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave? Get you a drink or a blanket?”

  “I don’t need a thing.” Why did he have to be so darn nice?

  He left her condo, and without thinking, she raised her own hand to her shoulder, feeling the warmth of where his hand had been on her T-shirt. Just one day ago, she had gone to work resenting everything about Jeremy Crockett and the time he would take away from what she really cared about. But today, after one foot massage, and learning more about the man he truly was...well, she didn’t resent him quite so much.

  * * *

  AS JEREMY WALKED to his car parked along Queen Street by Brooke’s condominium, Lynette’s words echoed in his mind. I don’t need your help, Jeremy. I have my own money. I’m self-sufficient. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you and the children we’ve created, but I don’t want to marry you.

  Those words pounded in his memory and ached in his heart. His most earnest proposals to Lynette had been after the births of their two children. Aside from pledging his devotion to her, he’d tried to convince her that they needed to be a family—unified parents to their two children. Sure, he could provide for them married or not, but he wanted more. He wanted Lynette’s respect, enough that she would want to make it official between them. Enough that his kids would look up to him and ask his advice every day, not just once in a while. He supposed he was trying to make up for the lousy job his own father had done—nevertheless, being a strong, capable family man was important to him in every sense.

  Both times he’d poured out his heart to her, Lynette had smiled and kissed him and explained that she wanted the best for their kids, as well. But that didn’t mean she had to be married to their father. They could be in love and remain faithful to each other without a license.

  True. But still, Jeremy had a deep-rooted desire to take care of everything and everyone. He’d transferred that desire to other players on the football team. He’d even tried to take care of Brooke and make her ankle better. He wanted to take care of his kids so they didn’t want for anything. He wanted them to be happy and well-adjusted, especially about the tragedy in their lives. At this point, he feared he might be failing. Meanwhile, Lynette had resisted every attempt he made to do what he believed was the right thing. Some men were takers. Some were givers. He definitely wanted to be one of the latter group.

  Jeremy opened his car door and settled into the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield at a picture-perfect spring afternoon. “What is wrong with you, Crockett?” he said aloud.

  How else was he to explain an almost overwhelming urge to help Brooke Montgomery? She had a sprained ankle, that’s all, but he knew how to make her better. He was the team player all the other guys came to for encouragement and advice, even after they’d seen the qualified team doctors. He’d helped them. But Brooke didn’t seem to want him to do anything like that for her.

  “Don’t do this, Jeremy,” he said as he started the car. “Don’t think that every wounded creature needs your help. Some people get along just fine without the supposed Crockett magic touch. You’ve made a new start with a new job in a new town in a new house with two people who defini
tely do need you. Your kids. They need you for shelter and food, help with their homework and love. That should be enough.” He pulled away from the curb, but he couldn’t deny an overwhelming urge that it would have been nice if Brooke had needed him just a little.

  “Forget stray cats and wounded birds,” he said, recalling his childhood instincts to help every creature that mewed or couldn’t fly. “For a guy who played hard and gave as good as he got on the football field, you can be quite a sap in real life.”

  But he couldn’t rationalize Brooke in his mind. She was giving up her time and her knowledge to help him succeed. He was supposed to believe that she was just that self-sacrificing a team player. She had no ulterior motive, and for that he was grateful. But Jeremy wasn’t the kind of guy to take without giving back. And he usually wasn’t satisfied until he’d given back more than one hundred percent.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BROOKE AND JEREMY had another good session for an hour on Monday. Tuesday was nonstop because WJQC and every other station was waiting for breaking news from the White House. Writers were waiting anxiously and fact checkers were kept on hold. When Brooke got the latest news on the air by five, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  On Wednesday, she and Jeremy settled down in the break room to discuss media law. Jeremy already knew some of the more exacting details of what is allowed on air and what can get a news station in a heap of trouble. He explained that when he’d first heard from Milt Cramer, he’d done a bit of cramming about television news. So he wasn’t completely ignorant about what Brooke wanted him to know. His eagerness to learn reminded Brooke of her own efforts when she started at the station.

  His positive attitude was just one facet of Jeremy Crockett. He was smart, adaptable and had more common sense than almost everyone she knew. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t make it in this business. And that feeling scared her half to death. Was he not worried if he failed? He probably had enough money saved from his playing days to exist for years. If Milt carried through with his threat, Brooke couldn’t stay afloat for two months. If Jeremy had a flaw, it was that he didn’t realize what a tough business this was.

  He continued to ask her about her ankle, which was improving every day. “I’m almost to the point that I can wear something more stylish to work than a bedroom slipper,” she said to him.

  “Just don’t push it,” he said. “Besides, that’s a great-looking slipper.”

  Sometimes Brooke just wanted to forget the lessons and sit back with Jeremy and talk about anything else. But she didn’t let her thoughts stray very often. She was going to have to push him pretty hard or Milt would put them both out on the street. Jeremy with a contract that had been bought out, and Brooke with a paltry severance package.

  So Brooke kept coaxing him back on track. At the same time she encouraged his efforts, he seemed determined to encourage her. “You really know this stuff, Brooke,” he said. “I’m so thankful you agreed to help me.”

  She kept a smile plastered on her face and bit back the truth. Ha! Agreed? Not hardly. Self-preservation was more like it. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to learning about these libel cases.”

  * * *

  WHEN BROOKE ARRIVED home on Wednesday, she had a message from Gabe on her landline. She hoped he wasn’t asking for more money. She’d just managed to put six hundred dollars into his checking account, and at this point she wanted to see results.

  She dialed his number. “Gabe, it’s Brooke. Any news?”

  “Nothing definite. I’m checking some things out tomorrow and Friday. And just maybe I’ve got a good lead. I’ve uncovered a file about a kid who seems to be Edward’s age. He has a rap sheet as long as my arm, and the funny thing is, his name is listed differently for almost every crime.”

  “That’s strange. How can you be certain of who he really is?”

  “I can’t. That’s the problem. But his name changes are not the weirdest thing. I found a couple of pictures, too, mostly mug shots. In one, he’s got coal-black hair. In another he’s a bleached blond. Seems this kid was a master at deception...and obtaining false IDs.”

  If Gabe was describing her half brother, Brooke was definitely not impressed with the life he’d led as a teenager, but she reminded herself that Edward had grown up not wanted by his mother and, probably, the foster system. “Okay, and what do you think? Is it worth pursuing? How are we going to find him?”

  “His juvenile record trail grew cold when he would have turned about sixteen,” Gabe said. “The last known reference to him was in a record of him appearing before a judge in juvie court. He was accused of stealing a car and was sentenced to six months in detention. His name was listed as Jerry Miller with about a half-dozen aliases attached. Can’t find anything after that.”

  “So what makes you suspect this guy is my half brother?”

  “Instinct, I guess,” Gabe admitted. “Plus a few clues are there. He’s the right age. His crimes occurred mostly in South Carolina, and the judge who tried him was a Carolina judge.”

  Not much to go on, but maybe more than Gabe had presented in the past. For some reason, she thought she should trust the investigator’s instincts.

  “Do you think he suddenly became a law-abiding citizen?” Brooke asked.

  “Ha! I sincerely doubt it. Kids with that long a record usually don’t turn honorable citizen over night. He probably spent more than six months in juvie for misbehaving, got out eventually and upped his crime game. My guess is he spent a few good years in prison under one of his assumed names. Or he made up a new one.”

  “You don’t make this guy sound like a brother I should look forward to meeting.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s your call. It’s a decent lead, but if this man turns out to be Edward, you may not want to know him.”

  Brooke seriously doubted that conclusion. Even if Edward needed help, wasn’t she willing to step in and do that? And what if he was a good citizen, having corrected his bad behavior? Then all her work and money would have been worth it. Either way, he was her brother.

  “What is your plan to find him?” Brooke figured whatever the plan was, it would cost her more money, so she would listen intently to his response.

  “I’m going to try to track down the judge that sentenced him in juvenile court. That was nearly twenty years ago. The judge could be anywhere. He could be dead.”

  Brooke sighed. “And if you do find someone who could have been this judge on this particular date, what are the chances he’d remember a car thief from almost two decades ago?”

  “Depends on how many car thieves he’s tried in his career. But you’re right. His memory could be foggy by now.”

  The chances weren’t good, either for Gabe finding this boy from twenty years ago, or of her taking on the task of rehabilitating a possible hardened criminal in her life if he really was Edward. Brooke accepted that fact, just like she’d had to bolster her spirits with almost every conversation she’d had with Gabe. He always told her that any decision was “her call,” and she always convinced herself that this time might produce the results she dreamed of.

  “Do you want me to try to locate the judge?” Gabe asked her. “It might turn out to be another wild-goose chase, but you never know. If I find the guy, who will be thirty-five by now, I’ll want to interview him face-to-face, so travel time and expenses will be involved.”

  Of course. No surprise there. “How much?”

  “Fifteen hundred ought to cover it. That’s a bargain price, Brooke, because I’ll be working on other cases at the same time. If I had to charge you for continuous duty, I’d have to have more than fifteen hundred.”

  That was a higher amount than she’d ever given Gabe at one time. She could possibly check her bank balance and scrape together some of that amount, but it would make a serious dent in her savings. And what if Milt decided to let
her go if she failed with Jeremy? She would definitely regret giving that money to Gabe.

  But this lead was all Gabe had, and Brooke just couldn’t let it go. Maybe this time...

  “Okay. I can get the money, but Gabe, if this doesn’t work out, I’ll have to rethink the whole search. My sister’s been telling me for months that I’m wasting my time and money. Maybe she’s right.”

  “Maybe she is, but this is your thing, not hers, and finding this guy seems to be awfully important to you. My advice is you do what’s best for you.”

  She had to trust someone, and Brooke truly did trust Gabe. He’d always been straight with her, and his fees were in line with research she had done on the cost of hiring a PI. Yes, she trusted him, but she couldn’t go on financing this investigation forever. Not now when she wasn’t even sure what her income would be.

  “I don’t want to know each little trip you make or conversation you have,” she said. “Just call me when you have something positive to share.”

  “That’s the way you want it?”

  “Yes.” For the last few months, all Brooke had gotten from Gabe were failure reports. He was doing his job and keeping her updated, but she didn’t want to know every time he hit a loose end. Hope was all she had.

  “Good luck, Gabe. I’ll talk to you when you know something.”

  Brooke hung up the phone and went to look out her window. “Oh, Edward, where are you?” She resisted the urge to cry. In prison? We haven’t found a match. Are you even alive? We haven’t found a death record. Do you even have a memory of your mother having twin babies? And if I do find you, will you turn me away?

  Brooke considered that Camryn was right. Her need to find Edward had turned into an obsession. It had started innocently enough with Brooke’s desire to find their real mother, who had rejected them the day they’d located her. And then she’d learned of a brother, and her need to belong, to have true family roots, had taken off and become more and more important to her with each day. The last few months of searching for Edward had seemed like years. The toll on her bank account and her self-confidence was growing steadily.