A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

“That about sums it up.” Jeremy gave each child a glass of orange juice. Both kids ate in silence a moment, crunching and slurping, while staring at their father.

  “Did you get fired?” Alicia asked when her bowl was empty.

  “No, I did not get fired.”

  “People who aren’t fired go to work,” Alicia pointed out.

  “I’ll stay home with you, Daddy,” Cody said. “Then you won’t be lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely,” Jeremy lied. He was definitely lonely. His days had gone from too much to do to hours of empty nothingness.

  “Maybe now we should get a dog,” Cody said. “He could stay with you all day and you could forget about being fired.”

  “I wasn’t fired,” Jeremy said again. “Are you guys ready to go? The school bus will be here any minute.”

  “Did you pack our lunches?” Alicia asked.

  Shoot. Something else he’d forgotten. Jeremy went to the refrigerator and yanked out cold cuts, cheese and mustard. Then he took bread from the box on the counter. “I meant to do this last night,” he said, while foraging in the cupboard for bags of chips and a box of cookies. He dumped the cookies into his kids’ lunch boxes without wrapping them separately. “These might be crumbs by the time you eat them,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

  He put the lunch boxes in backpacks and zipped them up. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll walk you to the road.”

  As the bus pulled up, Jeremy leaned over and kissed each child on the forehead. He always kissed them goodbye, and he finally breathed a sigh of relief at experiencing at least a measure of normalcy in his otherwise emotionally chaotic days. He’d quit WJQC only two days ago, yet it felt like he’d been gone a month. Days were long when you didn’t have anything to do.

  “Is Brooke coming over?” Cody asked as he climbed the steps to the bus.

  “No.”

  Following her brother, Alicia said, “Are you going to look for another job or are we going to be poor?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jeremy said. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  He walked back up his drive thinking about the long hours ahead of him. Marta would make the beds and tidy the house, stopping at intervals to give him a sympathetically forlorn look. He’d listen to the news on TV, oddly on WJQC. And he’d think about Brooke getting ready for the five o’clock broadcast.

  Then he would send Marta on some errand or other. Surely they needed milk or eggs. After she left, he would sit in his office and scroll through the contacts on his cell phone. Who would he call today? Would he finally succeed in making one of those options a reality?

  Jeremy only knew two things for certain. He would not go back to WJQC. And he missed Brooke with an ache that wouldn’t go away.

  * * *

  “BROOKE, IN MY OFFICE, now.”

  Brooke barely saw Milt as he clumped past her door, but she definitely heard his booming voice.

  “Now, Milt? I’m working on the final lineup for tonight’s show.”

  His voice faded, but only slightly as he continued down the hall. “That’s two hours away, so yes, now.”

  She put her computer on silent mode and stood up. Might as well get this over with. She had no idea what complaint Milt was concentrating on today, but whatever it was, he loved telling her about it.

  “What is it, Milt?” she asked from the entrance to his office.

  “Come in. Sit.”

  She did.

  “I suppose you realize as much as I do that we’re having that retirement party for Fred on Friday night?” Milt said.

  “Yes. I’m the one who bought the set of golf clubs and a membership to Whispering Pines Country Club.”

  “Right. I suppose it will be a heartstring-tugging few minutes of airtime on Friday as he says goodbye to his viewers, the ones he has left, anyway.”

  “He’s been a staple of the news hour for years now, Milt. Of course he has an audience that will miss him.”

  “I’ve arranged for Dirk Billings to fill in for Fred for next week at least.”

  “Good choice.” Dirk would do a good job. He was thorough and somewhat accomplished on camera. He’d been WJQC’s lead remote reporter for a long time. He could be counted on to give a solid performance. But Brooke had never thought his demeanor was conducive to an hour of airtime. And besides, Dirk wasn’t interested in the job.

  “I’ve been auditioning applicants for Fred’s job for the last two days. We’ve had lots of tryouts.”

  “I’ve seen you in the broadcast booth,” Brooke said. “Come up with a keeper yet?”

  “Not even close. Ten days, Brooke, and I’ve got to put Dirk back on the streets.” Milt frowned. “I may end up putting that pushy chatterbox assistant of yours on air.”

  “Up to you, Milt. But my gut instinct is that Cissy isn’t ready for prime time.”

  “Ha! She isn’t! All she’s got is moxie, and she’s driving me to distraction. Can’t you keep her busy and out of my hair?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but Milt, you don’t have any hair...”

  Brooke had decided after her meeting with Jeremy at the tavern Monday night that Milt would never push her around again. Maybe that was Jeremy’s influence. Maybe she envied the moxie he’d displayed by quitting before Milt fired him. Or maybe she’d just had enough of Milt telling her what to do and making the success of WJQC ride on her shoulders. Whatever it was, Brooke was wielding some power at WJQC that she hadn’t enjoyed in a while. Too bad all that wielding wasn’t making her happy.

  Milt sat back, folded his arms across his chest. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Brooke...”

  She waited while he slowly nodded his head.

  “Get Crockett back,” he finally said.

  “He won’t come back.”

  “Of course he will.” Milt tore a piece of paper from a tablet on his desk and scribbled something down. He handed the paper to Brooke. “Show him this.”

  She stared at the figure on the paper. “Milt, this is a ridiculous amount of money to give an anchor. I know guys who have been at the desk for decades and haven’t made this much. Fred, for instance.”

  “I’m over a barrel, Brooke. I sunk everything into making that jock a newsman, and now I’m left holding an empty bag. I still think he can do this job.”

  “He doesn’t want the job,” Brooke stated simply.

  “Well, convince him he does! We’ll get viewers just because of who he is. I’m not denying that he infuriated me after that stunt at city hall, but I’m willing to overlook it for the sake of the station.”

  “And maybe for the sake of your own reputation?” Brooke added. “You are, as it seems, a station manager with no five o’clock anchor.”

  “Whatever. Just go talk to him. You’re closer to him than anyone here. He’ll listen to you.”

  He did at one time. Brooke doubted he would again. Besides, she wasn’t certain he was right for the job. He could be a novelty, sure, but what kind of staying power did a novelty have? But what if his skills improved? Did she owe it to Jeremy to give him another shot at a position he wanted just a few days ago? He’d be coming back to WJQC with the ball in his court. Milt was begging, and that gave Jeremy strength.

  But, bottom line, Brooke was sick and tired of doing Milt Cramer’s bidding. She wanted to see Jeremy on her terms for once, not because her egomaniacal boss told her to. “I won’t do it, Milt,” she said. “There’s not enough money in Charleston to make me confront Jeremy with this offer.”

  Milt made a show of tearing off another piece of paper. “Not even a bonus like this?”

  Whew. He was offering her enough to pay back Jeremy the money she owed him and have plenty left over to continue her search for Edward. Brooke tapped the paper on her knee and thought a moment. This would be an excuse for her to see Jeremy again—the only on
e she could think of. It was a legitimate offer. He could accept or decline. She’d approach him with all honesty, give him her personal and professional opinion of his chances to succeed. And then leave it up to him.

  Milt leaned forward. “Well? It’s a darn good offer, and you know it, Brooke. Even if Jeremy says no, you can keep the money. No games this time, just you and me working for the good of WJQC, like we used to.”

  She stood, tucked the offer in her pants pocket. “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

  By the end of the day Brooke had given Milt her answer, ordered two pizzas from a restaurant on the way to Hidden Oaks and headed out to the Lowcountry.

  * * *

  BROOKE RANG THE Crockett buzzer on the gate surrounding Jeremy’s subdivision. His voice came over the speaker. “Yeah?”

  “Hi, it’s me, Brooke.”

  He didn’t immediately respond, so she said, “Are you busy?”

  “I’m trying to get two kids to do their homework, but I guess I could put down my cattle prod for a good reason.”

  “Is two pizzas a good reason?”

  She heard the kids encouraging him in the background. “Pizza? Let her in, Dad.”

  “Yeah,” Alicia said. “We didn’t like those grilled-cheese sandwiches.”

  The gate slowly opened, and Brooke drove in. Making a few familiar turns, she pulled into Jeremy’s drive. Cody burst outside, ran to her car and waited for her to step out. He wrapped his arms around her waist and said, “You have pizza?”

  Her heart gave a little kick, and she put her hand on his back. “Yep. How have you been?” she asked.

  “Okay. I’m glad you came back.”

  “Me, too. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I didn’t know. Dad has been kinda weird lately. When I ask him if you’re coming over, he just says, ‘How would I know?’”

  She reached inside the backseat of her car and took out the pizza boxes. “I know I missed your dinnertime, but I figure you must have room for a slice or two.”

  “Or maybe the whole thing!”

  They walked to the house together. Jeremy stood in the doorway. He was dressed in jeans, a red polo shirt, and a pair of casual slip-on loafers. His hair was messy and he sported a five o’clock shadow. He looked like someone she would like to come home to for the rest of her life.

  “Here, let me take those.” He relieved her of the pizza boxes and stepped aside to let her in.

  Alicia came out of the kitchen. “Hi, Brooke. I’m glad you’re here.” A reserved welcome but a genuine one.

  “Hi, Alicia. Everything okay with you?”

  “I guess.” She looked up at her father. “I poured fruit punch for me and Cody. Can we have pizza now?”

  “Get it while it’s hot,” he said.

  “You want some, Brooke?” she asked. “It looks like there’s plenty.”

  “Maybe later,” Brooke said. “But you guys go ahead.”

  The kids hurried to the kitchen, each with a pizza box.

  “The kids look good,” she said to Jeremy.

  “They should. They’re getting away with murder since Marta is visiting a friend in Beaufort. Come on in.” He walked into the living room and waited for her to find a chair before he sat on the sofa. “So how was work today?” he asked.

  “Normal, mostly.”

  He smiled. She relaxed into the chair.

  “I’m surprised you even know what normal is at WJQC.”

  “How have you been adjusting to a life of leisure?” she asked him, and then felt strange since he had only left his job two days ago. To Brooke, it had seemed much longer.

  “I’m not crazy about it,” he said. “But I’ve been following up on some possibilities.”

  “Really? Have you made any decisions?”

  He didn’t answer. Just gave her a good, long stare, starting at her hair, which she’d brushed to a shine before leaving the office, and continuing down her face, which suddenly warmed with his attention. She’d also freshened her makeup and hoped the stress of the day didn’t show through.

  “Dang, but you look good, Brooke,” he said. “I don’t mean for that to sound so surprising, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in months. The last few days I’ve been stumbling along without my best friend.”

  She could have said the same words to him.

  He kept his gaze locked on her eyes and then said, “So what brings you out to the country? I can’t imagine you’ve taken a second job as a pizza delivery guy.”

  She laughed. “No. I’m done with taking on added responsibility in my life.” She hoped he would interpret her words as another apology for making him her project. “But I did promise Milt I would do one last thing for him.”

  Jeremy released a long breath. “Which is?”

  “He wants you back, Jeremy. He doesn’t know how to ask, or more accurately beg you himself.” She smiled. “Let’s face it. Milt is not a study in gracious Southern manners.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “But he does know effective ways of getting what he wants.” She took the piece of paper Milt had given her from her purse. “He didn’t ask my opinion of this plan,” she said. “He decided on his own that you really can become a good newsman.”

  “Is that what you think, Brooke?”

  “I don’t know. I’m inclined to believe that you can do anything you set your mind to. So if WJQC is what you want...”

  He slowly shook his head. “It’s not.”

  She had anticipated that answer, but it still stung. She opened the paper and handed it to him. “Maybe you should look at this before you decide for certain.”

  His eyebrows rose. He blew a low whistle through his lips. “My new salary?”

  She nodded.

  “Impressive, but honestly not what I made my second year in pro ball.”

  “Isn’t that comparing apples to oranges, Jeremy?”

  “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound cocky. Besides, my playing days are over. If I could succeed as an anchor, this kind of money would do well for us for years.”

  “That’s right. It would.”

  “But it’s not about the money,” he said. “I think I had false illusions about the WJQC job. I could see myself as a legit newsman, recounting events of the day in a serious, confident manner that would endear me to the audience. I didn’t know I would pick and choose the stories I would tell. Tug Davis taught me that not all news stories should be told, by me at least.”

  Jeremy crossed his legs, settled back in the sofa. “Tug is wrong, and I was wrong. If I accept a job, I should do it. But I’m probably not going to change. If it comes down to me telling a hot story versus ruining a person’s life, I don’t think I would do anything differently.

  “I’m not a newsman, Brooke. I’m an ex-jock with two kids to raise and no idea what to do with myself. Quitting football was the right decision, so no regrets there. I’m all those kids have, and I’m going to do my best to be the guiding force for their entire lives. But I have to do something with my time and what talents I have. I have to make myself proud of whatever it is I do, and not just for my kids. For myself, too.”

  Would he ever be proud of himself as a newsman? Brooke didn’t know, but she owed it to him to stand behind him if he wanted to try. “Jeremy, I would help you if you decide to give this another chance. Milt wouldn’t be pulling the strings this time. It would just be you and me...testing you, training you, working you hard.”

  He slowly folded the paper she’d given him and handed it back to her. “Thanks, but no.” He looked down at the floor a moment before giving her an intensely honest stare. “I don’t know how to put this delicately, Brooke, so I just have to say it. You are part of those illusions I let myself believe in.”

  She wanted to hold her hand
over her heart to keep it from breaking. She had let this man down, and he would probably never forgive her.

  “You and a lot of people at WJQC. It’s not your fault. It’s not even Milt’s fault. It’s a cutthroat business, and people who decide to join it have to be tough. I always thought I was tough. I could take a hit and get back up. I could stay with a woman who refused to marry me and keep coming back.” His lips quirked in an odd grin. “You know, in ten years of professional football I never got one personal foul called against me. That’s the way I am. Play fair or don’t play at all. I wasn’t born that way. Far from it. I learned that from Tug Davis, and I’m sorry that he forgot it.

  “So, no, Brooke. I won’t be coming back. I’m not cut out for it. Milt will figure something out.”

  But what about us? Was this it? When she walked out his front door would that be the end of the feelings she’d come to accept she’d never feel in her life? Instead of making Jeremy into the image she wanted for him, had he succeeded in making her into the image he wanted for himself? Play fair or don’t play at all. She had certainly taken a step in that direction this week at work.

  She took a deep breath and released it, afraid of the way her words would sound coming from her mouth. They were simple words, but would he realize how much she meant them? “Jeremy, I’m so sorry. You’re a decent man and no one should try to make you into something you’re not.”

  He stood up then and she did as well, thinking he was ending this conversation. Ending everything. Her chest hurt. No, not her chest, her heart. But he didn’t walk her to the door. Instead he wrapped her in a warm, protective hug.

  “It’s okay, Brooke. For a while I thought I could be something I’m not. I wanted to be that person, for me, for you. But it never would have worked.”

  He still had feelings for her. She knew it, but would it be enough?

  “I have something for you,” he said. “Come with me into my office.”

  She followed him into the office. He went behind his desk, opened the lap drawer and took out a tablet. “I just got this today,” he said. “I really believe it’s reliable.”