GINA WILKINS - The Soldier's Legacy

And...she’d overreacted again, Jade thought with a smothered sigh. What was it about Trevor that made her do that? “Thank you,” she said again, more sincerely this time.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Bella dashed into the kitchen, bringing a welcome end to the unexpected tension in the room. “We made cookies! And I put the icing and sprinkles on some of them all by myself!”

Jade turned to her daughter with a tone that sounded too bright even to her. “Did you? That sounds like fun.”

“It was. And they’re good, too. Do you want one?”

“I’m sure they’re delicious, but I’ll wait until later. I’d like to shower and put on fresh clothes after being out in the rain all morning.”

Bella turned toward the doorway. “Ms. Mary Pat said she’d build a block house with me when she finishes the game she’s playing with Caleb and Erin. I just wanted to see if you’re home yet.”

Jade had an impulse to remind her daughter that this wasn’t actually “home,” but she let it go. She didn’t look back as she left the kitchen with Bella holding her hand, but she had the feeling that Trevor was watching. And that made her swallow hard.

* * *

TREVOR WASN’T SURE if Jade would come outside that night, considering her earlier dousing, but he made his way to the patio, anyway. His cabin fever was strong tonight, and he needed to be out of the house, if only a few feet away.

The rain had stopped a few hours earlier, leaving the night air comfortable, if not quite cool. Most of the furniture had dried enough for sitting, though a bit of damp soaked through his pants when he settled into a chair. Darker than the night sky, a few clouds lingered overhead, pinpoint stars and a watery moon floating peacefully among them.

Settling back into the lounge chair, he wondered why he hadn’t done this more often, simply sat outside and let the peace surround him. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the flowers in the professionally maintained beds around the house, the not unpleasant scent of chemicals from the pool and the faintly fuel-tinged aroma of the Intracoastal Waterway behind his property. Even at this late hour, he could hear the occasional passing car from the street and cruising craft on the waterway, but for the most part, the area was quiet. A breeze rustled through the palmetto fronds and fanned his cheeks, lulling him into a state that was somewhere between sleep and fantasies.

He wasn’t sure if it was a noise or the tingle at the back of his neck that made him open his eyes to see Jade standing nearby, looking as though she wasn’t sure whether to announce her presence or turn and slip back into the house. “Hey,” he said to let her know he was awake—and open to company.

“Hey,” she replied quietly. “How wet is that chair?”

Noting that she wore shorts and a T-shirt now, he motioned toward the chair beside him. “Dry enough.”

Her hesitation was so brief that he wondered if he only imagined it. He thought back to that moment in the kitchen when he’d blurted out an offer to speak with her contractor, a suggestion she obviously hadn’t taken well. They’d been perfectly civil ever since, but maybe she’d taken more offense than he’d realized; had she interpreted his offer as a lack of confidence in her abilities to deal with the repairs herself? He hadn’t intended it that way. He was simply in the habit of active, hands-on problem solving, both in his business and personal affairs—and often on behalf of friends and family, many of whom had come to expect it from him.

He wasn’t comfortable with the hint of arrogance implied in his assumption that he was always the best-qualified arbitrator. Perhaps he should have paid attention to recent suggestions that he place more faith in his trusted associates—and in his friends, apparently.

Still, Jade looked quite comfortable as she settled into the chair and turned her face up to the sky with her eyes closed in much the same manner as when he’d found her out here that first time. She truly did seem to draw tranquility from the night. He needed to follow her example more often.

The two older kids had been wound up during dinner, babbling with a combination of nerves and excitement about the first day at their new school tomorrow. The adults had barely been able to get a word in edgewise, so they’d simply abandoned all attempt at carrying on any conversation that didn’t include Caleb and Erin. Bella had contributed occasionally, mostly when asked direct questions, but she’d been visibly subdued. Trevor suspected she was the most anxious of the trio about the next day. As seemed to be typical for them.

“Kids all asleep?” he asked.

Jade turned her head to nod at him. “Bella and Erin are. Caleb has a later bedtime, so he usually reads for an hour before turning in. He was reading in bed when I checked, but he said he was getting sleepy.”

“Is Bella doing okay?”

Jade answered after a faint sigh. “She’s a bundle of nerves. I gave her a warm bath with lavender oils to calm her, then read two of her favorite bedtime stories before she finally fell asleep. She’s always anxious before going into a new situation, even though she met her teacher at the open house yesterday. Her teacher seemed very nice. Bella thinks she’s going to like her.”

“I hope she’s right. And I understand how Bella feels. I was always a wreck the night before a new school year started. For me, it got worse every year rather than better. I hope Bella doesn’t go through that.”

Jade looked surprised by the confession. “Why did it get harder for you? Didn’t you like school?”

Just what had his tone unintentionally revealed in his off-the-cuff comment? He tried to lighten it when he replied, “School was fine. Just a lot of pressure. That happens when you come from a family of overachievers with only one child to focus on.”

She was quiet for several long moments before saying, “Something tells me you were valedictorian of your class.”

“Covaledictorian,” he corrected her. “One of the other students had exactly the same grade point average I did.”

“And how did your parents respond to that?”

He chuckled, keeping his reply candid but casual. “They congratulated me. Bought me a car for graduation. And mentioned a few times that if I’d worked just a smidge harder, I could have come out ahead of that girl.”

After digesting that for a moment, she asked, “Did you feel the same pressure in college?”

Realizing he’d brought this shift in focus on himself, Trevor answered succinctly. “I got the degrees—that was all that really mattered.”

“MBA, right?”

“Right.”

“Followed by military service.”

“Four years.”

He’d enlisted at twenty-five, an idealistic newlywed eager to serve and determined to do at least one thing his father had never considered and didn’t entirely approve of. It was something he’d discussed with Lindsey before they’d married, and while his young bride had been impatient to begin their lives as prominent members of the Southern social scene, she’d supported his wishes—if reluctantly—and had done her best to be a committed army wife.

Lindsey had been his most fervent cheerleader, he mused, calling a time-dimmed picture of his pretty bride to mind. She’d believed without a doubt that he would be successful in business, and she’d eagerly described her dream future. A big house in which she would be renowned as the popular hostess for a whirl of social and charitable events. Long weekends in New York or Paris or London. Household staff and competent nannies for a child or two, if she and Trevor reached a point when both wanted to make that further commitment. It had been a rosy, perhaps overly idealized, image that Trevor had indulged even as he pursued his own whim of having the word veteran added to his public résumé.