“Jamie Flaherty? Really? I haven’t seen her in years. Mother told me about her pulling Sam from the swimming pool a couple of weeks ago. I know you must be so grateful to her for that.”
“Of course.”
“I think this is great, Trevor. I’m glad you’re getting out. You need to take some time for yourself.”
“It’s only dinner and a movie,” he felt compelled to remind her, not wanting her to get any unfounded ideas.
“I bet Jamie has some fascinating stories to tell about her time in New York. I never knew her all that well, of course, since she was several years behind me in school, but I always thought she was incredibly talented. It was a shame Mrs. Lynch didn’t showcase her as much as she should have in school plays. We all know why she didn’t, of course, but it was so unfair.”
Everyone in town had known about Jamie’s unfortunate home life, of course, Trevor reflected. Her father had spent many a night drying out in the town jail and her mother was known as a vague, quiet woman with unfocused eyes and a fondness for cheap wine. Jamie had been well liked by her peers because of her outgoing nature and wicked sense of humor, but her parents had been a definite social disadvantage with the adults in town. Especially the other parents, who were reluctant for their sons to date her, or their daughters to spend too much time with her. As if her parents’ drinking was a contagious disease that Jamie might carry, Trevor thought with a frown, looking back now with an adult’s view of her youth.
How much had he been influenced by the whispers and rumors? Had his failure to ask her out then, even knowing there was a strong attraction between them, been due as much to unconscious snobbery as to wariness of their differences?
And wouldn’t that have been hypocritical, coming from one of the wild McBrides?
Because the question made him uncomfortable, he abruptly changed the subject. “Have you heard from Trent lately?”
Tara’s sigh carried clearly through the phone lines. “He called this morning. He wanted to know if—to use his words—I had ‘dropped my load’ yet.”
Trevor chuckled. “That sounds exactly like the way he would have worded it. The kid’s a fruitcake.”
“I don’t know, Trevor, I worry about him. He just sounds so cocky and reckless sometimes that I can’t help being afraid he’s going to get a rude awakening if he isn’t careful. Does that make any sense to you?”
It made entirely too much sense, actually. Trevor had once been smug and cocky, himself, so certain his life was progressing exactly the way he had planned. So confident that nothing could go wrong. So stupidly blind to what had been going on right under his nose.
“Trent will be okay, Tara,” he gruffly assured her. “You just take care of yourself, you hear? Your kid brothers can look after themselves.”
Though she was barely a year older than Trevor and six years older than Trent, Tara had always taken her responsibility as the eldest too seriously. She’d always watched out for them and worried about them—which was one reason Trevor had never told her about his experience in Washington last year. She had grieved for him enough. She had her own life to enjoy now.
“I know you can both take care of yourselves,” she answered him affectionately. “It’s just that I want you both to be happy.”
“And Trent and I want the same for you, sis. It was great talking to you, but I’d better go now or I’ll be late picking Jamie up.”
“Tell her hello from me, will you?”
“Yes, I’ll do that. And tell Blake to call as soon as the baby arrives so we can all come admire it.”
“I hope that will be very soon,” Tara said fervently.
“So do I. See you, Tara.”
He hung up the phone and glanced at his watch.
It was time to pick up Jamie.
7
“SO THEN the director looked at me and said, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there, Flaherty.”’
Trevor regarded Jamie intently over the rim of his coffee mug. “And what did you do?”
Curled on her couch beside him, her bare feet tucked beneath her, one arm propped on the back of the cushions, she grinned at him. “I went out there, of course. And I ad-libbed like crazy. And somehow, it worked. My reviews were better than I could have hoped for. Unfortunately, the critics weren’t so kind to the rest of the show. It closed after two weeks.”
“Was that when you decided to leave New York?”
“Heavens, no. That incident happened four years ago. I’ve been in three obscure plays and two soap operas since then.”
“So why did you leave?”