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His words pained her, he saw that right off, the shadow of sorrow making him wonder what her choices had cost. But he was too angry to delve into that. Didn’t know, didn’t care.
But you do, the inner voice chided, unbidden.
He shut it down with a quick rebuttal. Trust me. I don’t.
“And missed the academy?”
“It was a school. Nothing more. Nothing less. There are schools everywhere.”
She faced him straight now, chin raised, her gaze steady. “It was your dream, Trent. And you and I both know that cadets can’t be married or have a child. I knew you well enough to know you’d never turn your back on your baby.”
“And so you chose to keep him from me. Convenient reasoning, Lyss.”
A bitter smile twisted her mouth, pained her eyes. “I was wrong, Trent. I see that now. And saying I’m sorry can’t fix it.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“But what’s done is done.” She drew herself straighter, taller, meeting him eye to eye. “Right now we need to focus on Jaden. What’s best for him.”
“What’s best for him is a chance to know his father. His real father,” Trent ground out, unyielding. “You’ve cheated me out of eleven years. I refuse to let you get another day.”
“Trent.” She moved forward, beseeching. “I can’t begin to imagine how angry you are…and I realize you have every right to be.”
He met her gaze, expressionless, refusing to be drawn into her mollifying tactics. She’d cheated him, she needed to pay. Easy concept.
“But we can’t destroy him with this. We have to think first and go slowly. Step by step.”
“You’re worried what he’ll think of you,” Trent observed, standing firm. “Honey, that’s the least of my worries right now. Best-case scenario? He realizes his mother is a liar and asks to stay with me. At his age judges are willing to consider the child’s wishes.”
His words hurt her. He saw that and didn’t care. No, scratch that, he tried not to care, but her look of pain hit him hard and low.
Because that’s how you attacked, his conscience prodded. And that whole thing about judges? Not very Solomonesque. Try Kings, chapter three, verse one. Solomon offered to divide the child to appease the quarreling women. The true mother stood back, refusing her rights to save the child’s life. You might want to rethink your options.
He didn’t want to.
But the inner voice cast doubt on his absolutism. He stared into space, seconds ticking like minutes, until he finally shifted his gaze back to hers. “What’s he doing right now?”
She hesitated. “Practicing football. With Chris Russo.”
“He likes it?” Thinking of that, a tiny piece of Trent’s heart went out to the boy, a speck of realization that a part of him lived on in someone else. A hint of hope stretched upward.
Lyssa’s expression softened, a ghost of the girl coming through the woman. “He loves it.”
“Where are they practicing?”
“Behind the middle school. Chris saw his talent right off and asked if he could work with him before the season gets under way.”
“I’ll work with him.”
She looked startled, then frowned. “But—”
“No buts.” He leaned in again, refusing to notice the pale points of light in her hazel eyes, how the hint of green to gray sparked amber fire when she laughed. The memory stabbed. He ignored it. “When are they practicing again?”
“Tomorrow, but…”
He shook his head and moved toward his motel room door. “I’ll be there. Evening?”
Lyssa stared, gnawed her lip, then nodded. “Yes.” She stepped forward, her expression pleading. “You won’t tell him, right? Not yet?”
Like he was about to make a promise like that. He’d already been cheated out of a dozen years, give or take. She had no right to set the rules, none at all.
She’s his mother, his conscience tweaked once more. You’d have given anything to have a mother who loved you, remember?
Oh, he remembered. Too well. A kid doesn’t forget when his very own mother equated him with disposable trash, something to cast out, toss by the wayside. Eyeing Lyssa, he saw the difference and wanted to ignore it. Needed to ignore it.
But something in the winsome look of her gaze, a mother pleading for her child, touched him, despite his disdain. He hesitated, worked his jaw and gave a curt nod. “I won’t tell him. Yet.”
Her look of gratitude evoked guilt within him, and that just made him angry. Why should he feel guilty about anything?
But when she nodded and whispered, “Thank you,” it was all he could do to keep from stepping toward her, the voice and expression recapturing times long past, memories of the girl he loved.
Instead he moved backward, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “Good night.”
Chapter Five
“You’ve looked better.” Cat made the observation as she walked into work Wednesday afternoon, her glance skimming Alyssa’s face. “Did you catch Cory’s cold or have you spent the last forty-eight hours in tears?”
“Most of ’em.” Alyssa checked the preset front dining room for table alignment and seating, then turned Cat’s way.
“Have they met yet?”
Alyssa hauled in a breath. “Tonight.” She tweaked a floral arrangement that didn’t need it and sighed. “Trent’s going over to the middle school where Chris and Jaden practice. He wants to help.”
“Awkward.”
“Tell me about it. I told Chris he was coming and he looked at me like I had two heads.”
“Chris was a little older, but he knew Trent,” Cat reminded her. “Putting two and two together is fairly easy in this case.”
“So it would seem.”
“And you’re worried about what might happen?” Cat mused.
“If by worried you mean scared to death, then yes.”
Cat smiled in sympathy and hugged her shoulders. “You can’t stop time from moving forward, Lyss. Let go and let God.”
“I’m fairly certain God gave up on me somewhere around Jaden’s second birthday.” Memories swept her. At the time she considered her options free and unfettered. Now she realized they were just outright selfish. And stupid.
“Honey, we all make mistakes at nineteen. Eventually we get a clue and grow up. You think God holds that against you?”
“Reasonably certain.”
“Nonsense.” Something in Cat’s certainty snared Alyssa’s attention. She turned and met her gaze. “Lucky for us, God’s better than that. ‘As far as the east is from the west I have removed your transgressions from you,’” she quoted. “He’s not out to punish us but to embrace us. Sunday school 101.” She grabbed Alyssa into a big sister–type hug. “Kiddo, if I thought God turned his back on me, I’d have headed for the hills long ago. He’s there. He knows. He loves.”
Did he?
Cat’s hug felt good. Real good. Alyssa knew enough of the waitress’s history to know she’d raised three kids on her own after divorcing an abusive husband, a man who’d used every means in his disposal to keep his wife and kids under his thumb.
But Cat had gotten out. Moved on. With her kids nearly grown and doing well, she’d changed a made-for-TV drama into a success story.
Cat would understand what she’d gone through with Vaughn, how he deliberately robbed her of something precious and pure. For just a moment Alyssa was tempted to tell her, but the phone rang, interrupting them.
Cat sent her a look that offered understanding, then answered the phone. “Good afternoon, you’ve reached The Edge, Jamison’s place for fine dining. How can I help you?”
She raised a brow, nodded toward Alyssa and said, “She’s right here, Trent. Just a moment.”
Fear gripped Alyssa. Had he changed his mind? Was he calling to let her know he’d decided to tell the boy everything?
Reaching out, Alyssa accepted the phone. “Yes, Trent?”
“I didn’t ask what time they were meeting tonight.”
“Six-thirty.”
“Do you want to pick him up or have me bring him to your parents’ place? That’s where you’re staying, right?” His crisp, clear voice stayed businesslike while hers fought emotion and lost.
“I’ll pick him up.”
“See you then,” he said.
Click.
Dread flooded through her. In two short hours Jaden would come face to face with his father. Would he know right off? Sense the similarities? See the resemblance?
Alyssa had no idea.
Cat read her mind, not that it was all that difficult if the fear claiming her heart was reflected in her face.
“It’s not like he’s wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Luke, I am your father,’” Cat quoted in a really bad Darth Vader–like voice. “Jaden will see what an eleven-year-old boy should see. A great football player showing him the tricks of the trade. He’s looking for a coach. Not a father.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Cat shrugged. “I know I’m right. We see Trent in Jaden because we knew Trent at that age. Jaden will see a cool guy who loves football like he does, a guy who wants to teach him stuff. Give him a leg up. Until someone tips him off, my guess is that’s all he’ll see.”
“Really?” Alyssa wanted to cling to that commonsense hope. Cory’s coughing had kept her up half the night, breaking sleep into minute stretches of time and she felt like the fragile threads of her life were at snapping point.
She needed coffee and she needed it now.
“Really,” Cat affirmed. She raised her chin as a small group of people walked in the door. “Time to get to work. It’s hard to worry when your mind’s filled with salad dressing choices and the evening specials.”
“Thanks, Cat.”
“Don’t mention it. And think about what I said. Let go and let God.”
Cat’s commonsense directive seemed too easy. Her trusted confidante wasn’t stymied with layers of guilt on top of a generous serving of self-loathing. On top of that, Alyssa had been raised in a strong, caring family. Sure her dad was tough, but never mean or deliberately hurtful. He was just a dad with high expectations, a goal setter who’d taken a hillside hamburger joint and turned it into one of the area’s most sought-out dining spots.
She’d let him down, and instead of learning from her mistakes, she’d repeated them until they cost her more than she cared to admit.
Shame slashed deep.
She believed in God. Always had. But it was hard to imagine the wealth of grace and forgiveness Cat alluded to when Alyssa recognized her role in a host of bad choices.
He’s there. He knows. He loves.
Cat’s words swirled within her and for just a moment Alyssa wondered if it could really be that sweet, that attainable. Then the image of Trent’s face reappeared, lined with anger and disappointment, her betrayal darkening his features. That thought laid to rest any notion of slates swept clean. Penance was part and parcel to life and she obviously hadn’t paid up quite yet.
Trent thought it would be simple to walk up to the kid and the coach, reach out a hand and say, “Hey. My name’s Trent and I’m here to help.”
But to do that he’d have to be able to move his feet forward and for the life of him, Trent stood trapped alongside his car, watching his son dodge and move under Chris Russo’s guidance.
The boy’s grace was notable. Sure his height added advantage for a junior high player, but more than that Jaden had an inner ability that shone through. Shoulders back, head high, the boy was clearly invested in the coach’s advice, nodding agreement all the while.
Trent hesitated.
Should he interrupt this?
He’d been so sure of himself last night, so downright eager to push his presence on the boy, but now he second-guessed himself.
Was he pushing in to punish Lyssa or build rapport with his son?
Jaden.
The name slipped off his tongue like butter on warm bread.
Chris turned, noted him and waved. “Trent. I heard you were stopping by. Come and meet my friend Jaden.”
No backing out now. Trent eased forward, keeping his pace even and his face neutral, not an easy task when what he wanted to do was examine everything about the boy, top to bottom. Talk to him, get to know him.
Give him time.
Lyssa’s breathy voice came back to him, a woman pleading for her son.
He shoved that aside as he drew near and stuck out his hand. “Jaden, hey. I’m Trent.”
The boy nodded amiably. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Polite. Straightforward. Nice, good qualities. Lyssa had done well.
