Читать книгу Reunited Hearts - Ruth Logan Herne - Страница 15

Dead.

Trent scowled at the Internet posting, sat back, then hunched forward again, his brain not comprehending what his eyes read in the two-year-old web clip from a southeast Montana newspaper.

A one-car crash on Mueller Road claimed the life of an East Brogan man early Sunday morning. Vaughn Maxwell, 33, of Cuylerville was found dead in his vehicle during a routine patrol by the Cuyler County sheriff’s office. Maxwell’s car appeared to have veered off the road at high speed, hit a tree, rolled over and came to a sudden stop against another tree. Attempts to resuscitate the driver were unsuccessful. The Cuyler County coroner’s office will conduct tests to see if alcohol use contributed to the crash.

Maxwell is survived by his wife, Alyssa, stepson Jaden, and infant daughter Cory.

Shame coursed through him. He’d never checked Lyssa’s status before coming back to Jamison, just a cursory look to make sure she was still in Montana. And she had been, at that time. Obviously Gary’s health concerns brought her east at the very same time he’d returned to help jump-start the job market.

But he’d stopped his query there, not wanting to be intrusive. Reading this Internet excerpt, he realized not only had she been alone for years, but she’d also been alone with two kids and not much family to speak of. He’d met Aunt Gee a long time ago. A sweet lady, lots of fun, but not big on family values. Although that may have changed, too, for all he knew. Obviously he was out of the loop where Alyssa’s life was concerned.

Another thought occurred to him. Alyssa had no health insurance. That explained her hesitation the night before, the look of resignation when he questioned her about a doctor.

Would she be eligible for Social Security? Survivor benefits? And this Maxwell guy was old enough to be worth something before he died, wasn’t he?

A series of government reclaim notices in the Cuyler County files told a different story. Vaughn Maxwell’s property had been seized months after his death for failure to pay taxes and water rights violations. The official county claim gave no details about his displaced family, but from the figures he found on eastern Montana, hard times had fallen worse than they had in Jamison.

I’m glad she’s here.

The thought both startled and comforted him. Better she be here among family and friends than so far away with no money, no home and no good prospects for employment.

Despite their history and her choices, he’d never wish her harm. Couldn’t wish her harm. And the thought of how tired she looked bothered him.

But it shouldn’t. She had her family now, her parents, their friends. A home. A place of her own.

Not exactly, his conscience prodded. Living with Mom and Dad at age thirty probably isn’t a cakewalk.

Because Trent hadn’t had the opportunity to live with a mother or father in nearly thirty years, the concept was lost on him. He’d never experienced that dream, to be part of a loving family he was actually related to.

He loved his foster parents, a kind family who’d relocated to North Carolina years ago. Their two children, both older than him. But despite their kindness and goodness, it wasn’t the same. He knew that. Felt it. Always a tad different, set apart.

But now he had Jaden. For the first time in nearly three decades Trent had a living, breathing, bona fide member of his family nearby, a dream come true.

He stared at the online image of Vaughn Maxwell, trying to determine the kind of man he’d been. High speed, possible alcohol use…

That combination said a lot about a man in his thirties with a wife and two kids.

He hoped he was kind. Nice. The thought of this guy barreling down a country road under the influence made that seem unlikely. Either way, the man was dead and buried, leaving Alyssa and two kids with a pile of bills that couldn’t be paid. She lost her husband and had her house taken from her in the space of a few short months. Rough time line.

She could have come back. Her parents would have helped.

Trent paused.

He knew Gary. Lyssa’s father might resemble a teddy bear, but his grizzled manner soon set a person straight. Pragmatic, tough and focused, he took a bulldog stance when approaching a problem. Effective in business, not so much in family. Was that reason enough to stay away?

The phone rang. He answered it, one eye on the screen. “Trent Michaels.”

“Tom Dewey here, Trent. How soon can I expect your bid?”

The phone call he’d been prepping for. Tom Dewey was NWAC, Naval Warfare Air Command, a military man and commander who fully appreciated Trent’s upgraded magnetron design for this radar system. A good man who wasn’t afraid to go out on a limb.

“I’m finishing up the specs and overnighting it to you first thing in the morning. Soon enough?”

“Perfect. We just got a bid in from Davison in Maryland and while they’re good, I’d like to see some of these bids go to areas with more economic challenge going on. With Walker’s strong track record on small contracts, Helen’s already got a foot in the door.”

“That explains your encouragement when the economic preference bill went up before Congress,” Trent noted.

“Exactly. I’ll be watching for the bid. And don’t be afraid to follow it up with others if Walker can handle the workload. We’re not in a hurry, but we’re not good at waiting games either.”

Trent knew that firsthand. Military wheels dragged in some cases, but when push came to shove, things could happen in an instant. “We’ll be ready for whatever comes our way, Tom. You have my word.”

“Well, good. Nice talking to you.”

“And you.”

Trent hung up the phone, closed the web page concerning Vaughn Maxwell and refocused his attentions on the bid. He was here to do a job, to meet his goal of procuring new and long-lasting employment for the community. He needed to be at the top of his game, unfettered by past or present.

He refilled his coffee mug and settled into his chair, reconfiguring estimates and numbers until he was satisfied long hours later. The bid was tight, accurate and hard-hitting where it needed to be. Once they had a successful track record with various military units, he could afford to be less stringent. But not now when being passed over could spell the downfall of a grassroots company refitting their manufacturing to meet the needs of a contract that might not come.

Trent refused to let that happen.

“Mommy, can I come, too?” Cory’s plaintive voice trailed as Alyssa loaded the back of the car with her mother’s strudels on Saturday morning. An Edge mainstay, the cheese, apple and triple-berry melt-in-your-mouth texture of the fresh pastries provided a sweet touch to end a meal or as the base layer of an Edge favorite, super strudel sundaes.

Alyssa nodded toward the backseat. “Sure you can. Hop in. Do you need help with your buckles?”

“I’m fwee,” Cory reminded her, her right hand displaying three tiny fingers that looked suspiciously sticky. “I’m big.”

“That you are, sugarplum. All right, have at it and then you and I will take these up the hill.”

Cory’s endearing smile sent a pang of regret through Alyssa. The past two weeks had been incredibly hectic, and Cory’s bright acceptance of a little time with Mommy cut deep.

“Alyssa, can you take these up as well?” Susan came across the yard with a large box of silk florals, the bright summer tones magnified by the morning sun, birdsong and the sheen of dew dampening her sneakers.

“Sure. We’ll put them back here.” Alyssa opened the wide tailgate of her mother’s SUV and whistled appreciation. “I love driving this thing. Total power rush.”

Susan laughed. “While I prefer your little car. Except on snowy winter days. Then this four-wheel-drive monster becomes my new best friend.”

“I can imagine. I’m taking Cory with me.”

“Shopping?”

Alyssa shook her head. Cory needed new summer clothes but they weren’t in the budget yet. Alyssa kept her gaze averted. “Next week. Today we’re just dropping this off at the restaurant and maybe a trip to the playground if Cory’s super-duper good.”

“I will be, Mommy. I pwomise this much.” Cory spread her arms wide, her sincere look matching her tone.

“Prrrrrrromise,” Alyssa corrected, stressing the R sound.

Cory nodded. “Pwwwwwwwwwwwomise!”

“Good girl.”

Susan exchanged a grin with Alyssa. “She sounds just like you did at the same age. A little trouble with R’s and L’s.”

“Really?” Her mother’s assertion pleased Alyssa. She had a hard time seeing much of herself in either child and that just seemed wrong after nine months of pregnancy. On the other hand, considering the way she’d mucked up her life, maybe taking after others was a good thing. “I’ll be back later then. Rocco’s doing afternoon/evening like always and I’m closing.”

Rocco was the head cook at The Edge, a tough-as-nails, my-way-or-the-highway–type guy. Her mother moved forward, her voice soft. “Is he still giving you a hard time?”

If by hard time her mother meant was Rocco an overbearing chauvinist jerk, then the answer would be an overwhelming yes. Still the cook knew his stuff and Alyssa couldn’t afford histrionics in the kitchen. Rocco’s fits were renowned and Alyssa didn’t have the time to mollify him like her father would.

Or the guts, but that was a different story. “Rocco’s Rocco. I just stay out of his way.”

Guilt stuck in her craw.

Wasn’t that exactly what she’d tried to do with Vaughn? Mollify things once they’d gone bad and stay out of his way? Self-recriminating memories churned inside her. If she’d stood her ground and left Vaughn when she should have…

She felt gutless for good reason. Standing her ground didn’t come naturally. She’d been a mouse, quiet and cowering long past the time when she should have made a stand. If she had, things might be different now.

Shame cut again.

She’d done everything she could to make sure Jaden didn’t suspect his stepfather’s temper. That meant no crying, no begging, but it was a small price to pay to protect Jaden’s formative years. And Vaughn had changed after Cory’s birth, her sweet, baby face giving him something to work for, to build for until another financial bad turn brought him down shortly after her first birthday.

She caught her breath, refusing to revisit those months, hindsight clarifying what seemed so muddled then.

Get out. Save your children.

If she’d only had the courage to do that sooner…

But she didn’t and there would always be a gap in her heart, a chasm, a small yawning space that could never quite be filled.

She’d made up her mind she’d never be fooled again, that she’d never be the object of another man’s anger. Vaughn’s crash put an end to that bout of craziness, but financial ruin brought its own share of troubles.

She was stronger now. She knew that. Made sure of it.

And right now Rocco’s finesse in the kitchen was important to the well-being of her family, her father’s health and their restaurant. She wasn’t about to do anything to mess with that, not after a long, tough winter.

“I’ll be back later. Jaden’s practicing this afternoon.”

“With Chris and Trent. I remember.”

Susan’s upthrust brow showed her concern, but she said nothing more. “Bye, Gwammy!”

“Goodbye, sugarplum. I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Susan sent Alyssa a sideways glance and kept her voice low. “She’s wide awake now.”

“And then some. The cold and the move must have really tuckered her out.”

“I’ll say.”

They’d had to wake Cory up the last several mornings, long after her normal greet-the-sun rising. And her afternoon naps were elongated as well, but Alyssa knew illness and change taxed little ones. Now that they were here and almost settled, Cory would have time to relax, be the preschooler she was meant to be.