Reunited Hearts. Ruth Logan Herne

unit on parade: Left. Left. Left, right, left.

      “Trent? It’s Helen. May I come in?”

      Helen?

      What was his boss doing here on a Tuesday morning? A frightfully early Tuesday morning?

      To fire him.

      Of course. Totally understandable. Scandal equates loss of job.

      Trent sighed, stood, tossed a pillow back to the top of the bed, ran a hand through his hair and pulled open the door. “I’ll save you the trouble and the embarrassment of firing me and verbally refuse the offer of employment you extended yesterday, okay?”

      Intense morning sun blinded him, the sharp angle piercing the V-angled crack. Helen stepped in, gave him a once-over, tsk-tsked, pulled out the desk chair and sat down. “I never saw you as a quitter, Trent.”

      “Beats getting axed.”

      Did a tiny smile soften her gaze? No. Had to be a quirk of the sun. Trent hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

      “You’ve had better days.”

      Talk about an understatement. “Yeah.”

      He shut the door, drew open the curtains and let sunlight soften the room. He drew a breath, waved to his slept-in clothes and offered an apology. “I know I look awful…”

      She nodded.

      “And that scene at The Edge was at best disconcerting.”

      “Agreed.”

      “And it’s understandable that you don’t want or need an executive who comes with scandal preattached.”

      “And there’s where we differ.”

      “Huh?” Part of Trent’s bemused brain kicked into gear, reminding him that former army captains and executives don’t say “huh.” He cleared his throat, sat on the lower edge of the bed, leaned forward and asked, “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”

      Helen regarded him with something akin to affection. “Trent, I watched you grow up.”

      “You and everybody else in town.”

      “True enough. You were an anomaly, a boy set apart by circumstance, but it wasn’t your situation that drew attention.”

      “No?” Trent scowled. “Could’ve fooled me.” Heaven knows he felt like a circus monkey more than once, his tragic family situation touted in local media.

      “It was how you handled those conditions,” Helen went on. “The grace under pressure, the time you put in studying, learning, practicing, working. We marveled at you and there was many a prayer offered in thanksgiving that we found you in time. That you survived.”

      Unlike Clay, his little brother, a good little fellow who drowned when he stumbled into a water-filled ditch three counties east. Why couldn’t their parents have dumped them together? Then, at least, Clay might have stood a chance. The hollow spot dwelling just beneath Trent’s breastbone nudged an arrow of pain.

      “So now, you’re under pressure again.” Helen rose and shrugged. “And I have no doubts that you’ll handle it just fine. In fact, this new twist compels you to stay here, help my company compete successfully for those military contracts. You’ve got a whole new reason to be in Jamison as of yesterday.”

      He stared at her. “You still want me?”

      She held up her wrist, the unadorned watch a quiet message. “I expect you to be setting up your office in an hour. And I’m hoping you brought another suit.”

      Several, in fact. “Yes.”

      “Then I suggest a shower, shave, coffee and ibuprofen for that headache you’re trying to hide.”

      A hint of warmth stole over him. “I’m not a big pill popper. I don’t have any.”

      Helen opened her purse, withdrew a small bottle and shook two tablets into her hand. “They’re generic, but they do the trick.”

      Trent clenched his fist around the pills. “You’re sure?”

      “Absolutely. Clock’s ticking.”

      It was. Trent gave a brisk nod to the door and headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “I’ll see you at nine.”

      Once again a hint of a smile softened her firm jaw. This time he was certain. She headed out, her footfall firm against the utilitarian carpet. “Good.”

      As her footsteps faded along the concrete walk, Trent caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

      Bad. Really bad. With morning breath, besides.

      And yet Helen still wanted him. Saw promise in his ideas, his work ethic. Last night’s startling revelation put his other ethics into question, but she was willing to give him a shot. See if he could help the struggling local economy by procuring defense contracts. Bigger and better military contracts meant more jobs. Heightened production. A trickle-down effect that would help across the board.

      Determined, he intended to do just that. She’d bought him time. Time to get to know his son.

      His son.

      He growled, realizing he didn’t even know the boy’s name. But he would, he promised himself as he went through his morning ablutions. He’d been raised without a mother or father to call his own, a public spectacle.

      His son would have a father who loved him. Cherished him. He knew he couldn’t make up for the years lost. He recognized that. But he could do his best to be a good, strong God-fearing father for the years to come. And Trent had every intention of doing just that.

      Chapter Three

      “Jaden Michael Langley, what are you doing out there with no coat? Your mother will skin you alive if she sees that,” Susan Langley scolded from her back door. “Grab a jacket and put a hat on, for pity’s sake. At least until the thermometer hits fifty.”

      “Grandma, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Too many layers mess up my throw.”

      “And if you catch a cold like your little sister, it messes up my schedule and your grandfather’s recovery,” Susan retorted in a tone that meant business. “Jacket. Now.”

      Huffing with impatience, Jaden dipped his chin in silent agreement, accepted the jacket she suspended from two fingers, tugged it into place without zipping and raced right back to the old shed where circled numbers marked spots for intended receivers.

      “You got him to put a coat on?” Alyssa came down the back stairs, sent her mother a look of appreciation as she overheard the exchange and inclined her head toward the sloping backyard. “I’m amazed.”

      Susan toyed with her coffee mug, her gaze outward, eyes thoughtful. “He doesn’t know me well enough to know I won’t go ballistic if he stands his ground. And Jaden’s eager to please, he likes making people happy. He’s got a lot of his father in him, Lyssa.”

      “That’s for sure.”

      Her tone drew her mother’s attention. Susan turned, questioning. Seeing Alyssa’s face, she stepped forward, concern deepening her features. “What’s happened?”

      Alyssa’s heart clenched, the knot of anger and fear tightening. “Trent saw him.”

      “What?” Susan’s face paled. She set her mug down hard, sloshing coffee onto the familiar oak surface, disbelief drawing her brow. “How?”

      Alyssa hesitated, grimaced and sighed. “He came into the restaurant last night. With Helen Walker and a bunch of her executives.” She shook her head, wishing she’d never approached the table, wishing she could reverse time for those short seconds, wishing…

      “Alyssa.” Susan braced her hands on Alyssa’s shoulders. Her fingers shook, reminding Alyssa she wasn’t