A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

  That was a very specific answer. Brooke feared she had insulted him somehow, and she hadn’t meant to. His home and property were beyond elegant. He pulled into the circular drive in front of the house and cut the engine.

  Brooke stared out the window at the large structure.

  “I suppose you’re wondering how far away the nearest movie theater is,” Jeremy said.

  “No, actually I was just enjoying the view. But what about the children’s school? How far away is it?”

  “About two miles. They go to a private school, the Amberson Academy. A bus picks them up every morning.” He stepped out of the car, shut the door and came around to open the passenger door. “How’s the ankle today? Do you need any help?”

  “No. The ankle is completely healed.” His front door was opened by a middle-aged woman in a skirt and blouse. Her graying hair was neatly styled in a modern bob. She appeared sturdy, efficient and qualified. Brooke concluded she must be Marta.

  Jeremy greeted her warmly. “Marta, this is Brooke. She came today to help me with some WJQC matters.”

  The two women greeted each other.

  “Where are the kids?” Jeremy asked.

  “I’m not sure at the moment. I’ve been in the laundry room folding clothes. Last I saw them, they were in the upstairs playroom.”

  Jeremy led Brooke into the living room, where his children were seated in a pair of chairs that flanked a brick fireplace. They were quiet, almost studious, and except for their clothes could have been in a portrait of children from some long-ago time.

  “Oh, good. You’re here,” Jeremy said. “I want you to meet Brooke.”

  Brooke smiled. “Hello, Alicia, Cody. I’m very happy to meet you.”

  Neither child spoke. They were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, not party clothes, but their garments were dusted with a white substance that looked like flour. The nine-year-old, Alicia, nodded once while her leg kept up a steady swing against the leg of the chair. The boy, six-year-old Cody, lifted his hand in a casual wave.

  Jeremy stared at his kids but he didn’t seem to notice the flour. “Is that what you’re wearing to the party?” he asked them.

  Before either child answered, a cry of alarm came from the back of the house, followed by loud footsteps coming closer.

  “Marta, what’s wrong?” Jeremy asked.

  The housekeeper burst into the room. “Come into the kitchen, Mr. C. I’ve never seen such a mess.”

  Jeremy’s face registered shock and concern. Following Marta’s raised arm and pointed finger, he headed out of the living room. Thinking she might be needed, Brooke followed behind him to what was obviously a large gourmet kitchen with no identifiable details at the moment. Most of the wood floor and the tops of the table and counters were covered with assorted food—cereal, flour, sugar. It appeared that someone had just flung boxes of edible contents everywhere. And then poured a bottle of maple syrup over the entire mess.

  Jeremy stood dumbfounded. “What happened here?”

  “Whatever it was, it happened in the last fifteen minutes. I’ve only been in the laundry room that long.” Marta crossed her arms. “I suggest you ask your children.”

  “Alicia! Cody!”

  Brooke had never heard Jeremy raise his voice. Of course, what father wouldn’t be upset at a moment like this, a moment that reinforced Brooke’s opinion of children?

  The children stood at the kitchen entrance. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Alicia asked in a sweet, little-girl voice.

  “Did you do this?” Jeremy demanded, first looking at his daughter and then his son. “Cody?”

  “We were going to fix lunch for you and your friend, Daddy,” Alicia said. “But we ran out of time and had to get ready for the party. I’m sorry if we left things messy.”

  “Messy? Alicia, this isn’t messy. This is a catastrophe, which will take forever to clean up. And I don’t believe for a minute that this is the result of you kids trying to fix a meal. Why would you do this?”

  He waited for one of the children to answer, but all he got from both of them were shrugs.

  His chest rose and fell. A vein worked in his temple. Then, as if he suddenly remembered Brooke’s presence, he spoke in a controlled voice. “Both of you go to your rooms. I will come get you when it’s time to clean this up.”

  When the kids had gone, Jeremy turned to Marta. “Go on to your sister’s,” he said. “The kids and I will take care of this.”

  “I can’t leave you with a mess like this,” Marta said.

  “You absolutely can,” he said. “My children are not going to ruin your plans.” He carefully walked across the kitchen floor, avoiding the worst of the disaster, and opened a closet that held cleaning supplies.

  Marta shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’ll help,” Brooke said, shaking her head at the obvious proof of runaway misbehavior. Why would anyone, no matter what age, make such a mess?

  “No, you won’t,” Jeremy said. “You go on out to the pool. I’ll bring you some lemonade. The three Crocketts will handle this. And if my kids have to go to a party covered in maple syrup, so be it. If I cancel their plans I’m only going to be hurting myself.”

  Brooke thought about arguing with him. She was certainly capable of helping out. But his voice was so raw, and his decision so sure, she followed his direction. The patio was sunny and warm. She slipped off her shoes and chose a padded lounge chair. For the next hour she ignored a feeling of guilt that she told herself she really shouldn’t be experiencing and tried to block sounds of a frustrated dad and seriously unhappy children.

  Poor Jeremy. She didn’t know what he expected of this day, but this definitely wasn’t it. Nor was it what she had expected. She reminded herself that both children were grieving. Plus, Jeremy had brought someone new into their household. Kids act out when they are disappointed or unsure. She and Camryn certainly had.

  She shouldn’t have come to Hidden Oaks today. It was turning out to be an increasingly bad decision. She was obviously interrupting a delicate balance between a father and his troubled kids. If she’d had her own car she would have left, but that wasn’t an option. She opened her notes and tried to concentrate on what she would tell Jeremy if he still wanted to talk shop. She doubted he would.

  Almost an hour later, Brooke was startled by a light tap on her shoulder. She turned abruptly, thinking her visitor was Jeremy. No. Cody stood behind her lounger. The rocket ships on his T-shirt contrasted with the sad look on his face, and Brooke felt an immediate and unfamiliar tug on her heartstrings.

  “Hi, there,” she said. “How’s everything going in the kitchen? Do you guys need any help?”

  “We’re almost done,” Cody said.

  “Does your daddy know you came out here?”

  “No. I said I was going to the bathroom.”

  “Oh, dear. We’ll have to let him know where you are,” Brooke said.

  “I didn’t lie,” Cody insisted. “I think I can make myself go to the bathroom.”

  “Okay, but still...”

  “I thought maybe I could sit with you a minute.”

  Brooke pulled up her knees to give the boy room on the end of the lounge chair. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Brooke had forgotten about the tablet open on her lap. “Just some work. Your daddy and I have some things to go over.” She smiled. “Boring stuff really.”

  She surreptitiously sent Jeremy a text. Cody is on patio with me.

  An answering text questioned Cody’s motive. Is he okay? Why did he come out there?

  Don’t know, but he’s fine. No prob.

  “I guess it was no fun cleaning up that sticky mess,” Brooke said. “Are you still going to the party?”

  “Yeah. Dad said we could, but we’re going to be punished later.”
He sighed.

  “Is something else bothering you, Cody?” Brooke asked.

  “I was just thinking that me and Alicia probably shouldn’t have made that mess today.”

  “No, probably not. I’m sure you didn’t think about all the extra work it would mean for your dad.”

  “I didn’t. I’m sorry about that.” He paused a moment, then said, “I want a dog. If we had a dog, he would have licked it all up.”

  Brooke smiled. “Dogs are great,” she said. “Maybe someday you’ll have one.”

  “Are you mad at me?” Cody asked.

  “No, I’m not. But it might be a good idea if you told your father that you regret making the mess. You are sorry, aren’t you?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back against her calves. Unsure what to do, Brooke lightly patted his head.

  He didn’t speak for a minute until his chest heaved and he peered up at her. “I should tell the truth,” he said.

  “Always a good idea,” Brooke said.

  “I’m not sorry.”

  She looked down at his face, so serious. “You’re not?”

  “Nope. Alicia and I have to stick together.”

  She smiled again. “I see.”

  “What I did was wrong, though, because I think I might like you even if Alicia doesn’t. She says we both shouldn’t like you.”

  Brooke understood what had happened in the kitchen. And she understood what was going on in Cody’s head now. He didn’t want to betray his sister. “How about deciding for yourself if you like me or not? What do you think of that?”

  His breathing returned to normal, the sweet, slow breaths of a child who’d gotten something off his chest. “Okay. Yeah, maybe I will like you.”

  I’m not sorry. His truthful words, spoken in his soft, honest voice, kept repeating in her mind. She remembered times from her own life when she’d wanted to say those exact words. Sometimes being really, truly sorry took a little time.

  Brooke gently rubbed his hair, wondering at the silky softness of it. So blond and curly and a bit sticky from his hands. Other than the residue of maple syrup, his hair reminded her of Esther’s, and the feeling she got from comforting him felt strangely natural.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A FEW MINUTES later Jeremy came out on the patio. “Time to get ready for the party, champ,” he said. “Have you been having a nice talk with Miss Brooke?”

  “Yeah, she shared her lemonade.”

  “Okay.” Jeremy parted a few strands of his son’s hair. “Maybe you can jump in the shower for a quick shampoo,” he said. “You wouldn’t want Luke to think you ate before coming over. If I know his mom, there will be lots of food.”

  Cody bounced up from the lounge and ran toward the house.

  Jeremy pulled up a chair and sat next to Brooke. “So what went on out here?”

  “Just a few companionable minutes,” she said. “He’s a sweet boy, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy grinned. “If you had said that an hour ago, I wouldn’t have agreed with you. Now that the hard work is behind us, I guess I can forgive him.” He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I know who the instigator of this incident was. Alicia’s been having a hard time. I should pay more attention to her.”

  Brooke nodded. “If a kitchen covered in flour and syrup doesn’t tell you that, nothing will.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Brooke. I arranged for them to get professional help in Colorado. When we came here, I thought everything was going to be okay. They seemed happy to be with me, didn’t talk too much about their mother. Maybe that wasn’t good. Today is a wake-up call.”

  “It hasn’t been that long since they lost their mother,” Brooke said. “Grieving takes time.” She smiled. “Not that I know anything about kids. I’m certainly not qualified to give you advice.”

  “Don’t you want kids of your own someday?” he asked.

  She gave him an earnest stare. “Honestly? It’s not on my agenda. I know what I’m good at. Running a news production room. Any kid contact I get from my nieces, and that seems to fulfill my nurturing needs.”

  “Hmm...” Not much of a response. Was he disappointed in her answer? Better to be honest from the start, she thought. Her feelings about children weren’t going to change just because she met a man who had two. In fact, what happened today reaffirmed her beliefs, while at the same time she had to admit to feeling sorry for the kids. Tough to lose a person you loved and depended on.

  “I’m going to take the kids to the party,” Jeremy said. “On the way back, I’ll call and order some sub sandwiches. I was going to fix you a nice light lunch, but frankly, I’m sick of the kitchen.”

  “No problem. Anything will be fine.”

  Before Jeremy and the kids left, Cody came back to the patio to tell Brooke goodbye. “Thanks for talking to me,” he said, his voice controlled and mature.

  She called him close and gave him a little hug. “Anytime, Cody,” she said. Alicia must have gone out the front door since Brooke didn’t see her.

  Jeremy had been gone about ten minutes when Brooke’s phone rang. As soon as she saw Gabe’s name, her heart began to pound. This could be it, she thought. He’s had the fifteen hundred for a few days now and he’s uncovered something.

  “Hello, Gabe.”

  “Hi, kiddo. How’s everything?”

  “I hope things are about to get better,” she said.

  “Maybe a little better. Depends how you look at it.”

  The tone of his voice caused her heart to sink. I’m beginning to look at it like I’ll never find my brother. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

  “I located the judge who was on the bench the day this Jerry Miller kid I told you about was brought in for attempted car theft.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Brooke asked. “He might remember the boy.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but the judge’s name is William Smith.” Gabe chuckled, causing the hairs on Brooke’s nape to stand up. How could Gabe find anything to laugh about in this situation?

  “Do you know how many judges there are in the United States named William Smith?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m assuming you’re telling me that there are quite a few.”

  “Hundreds. In the last twenty years there have been forty William Smiths on the bench in South Carolina alone. Some are still practicing. Some can’t be located by a normal search.”

  And even if he did find the right Judge Smith, Brooke thought, Gabe’s instincts were all that was leading him on this chase. The judge might not remember Jerry Miller. And Jerry Miller might not even be Edward. Basically, they knew nothing.

  But she had another fifteen hundred invested at this point, so she said, “You are checking these judges out, right?”

  “As fast as I can. You ever been in a court system’s archives room, kiddo? Pretty dusty and claustrophobic.”

  Short of being rude and telling Gabe to get back to those dusty rooms, Brooke simply asked, “So why are you calling today?”

  “I feel like we’re onto something. I can’t shake the feeling that this Jerry Miller might be the one. But I can’t locate and talk to all these Judge Smiths on my own.”

  “So get someone to help you,” Brooke said.

  “Right. That’s what I want to do, but the money...”

  “Wait a minute.” She tried to control her temper. “Are you saying you’ve gone through fifteen hundred already?”

  “I changed my plan when I discovered the judge and put other cases on hold. I’ve got no other money coming in. I feel so strongly that we’re about to locate Edward that I want to focus all my attention on this case.”

  “I told you I can’t keep financing this,” Brooke said.

  “That’s up to you,” Gabe said, as he always did. “Either you want to keep going or you don’t.
Just tell me what to do. But bottom line is I can’t live forever on fifteen hundred, and I can’t hire someone to help me search without a few hundred more. It’s hard to find good help.”

  You don’t have to tell me! Brooke fisted her hands on her lap. Blowing up at Gabe wouldn’t help anything. Her eyes began to burn. “Tell me the truth. What are the chances that the Judge Smith we’re looking for would even remember Jerry Miller?”

  “I think the chances are excellent. I told you. The kid has aliases and disguises. He ought to stand out in a judge’s memory. Your call, Brooke. Believe me, I wish the judge had been named Huckleberry or something like that. Would be a lot easier.”

  Brooke felt like she was facing forward on the edge of a cliff. If she backed up and took the smartest route to safety, she’d stay alive, but she’d never accomplish her goal. If she took one more step, just one more, she might sail into an abyss, but she at least would know she’d done everything she could for the adventure.

  She swallowed, hoped her voice would sound normal. “How much?”

  “Five hundred. I already found a guy. He can give me a week for that amount. He’s retired and dependable. Just give me the go-ahead, and—”

  “Go ahead,” she said, softly.

  “What?”

  “I’ll transfer the money on Monday. That’s when I get paid. Just so you know, if I give you money to live on, I won’t have any to live on myself.”

  He chuckled again. “Hang in there, Brooke. Something good is going to happen. I just know it.”

  She disconnected, sat staring out at the pool for a moment and then let the emotions she’d been holding in check break loose. Her shoulders shook, the tears in her eyes spilled down her cheeks and she sobbed. She hadn’t felt so miserable since her sister had lost the last baby to a miscarriage. What the heck was she doing? She could stop this at any time, consider her money lost and start over. Why did she keep throwing good money after bad? Why did this horrible need to find someone who might not even want to be found keep directing her life?