For Your Love by Beverly Jenkins

can give me a shot for.”
    Trent held on to his smile. “Well, if and when you’re ready to talk about it, I’m your guy.”
    â€œOkay. Thanks, Dad.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. Homework done?”
    â€œYeah,” he said, but Trent could tell he was distracted.
    â€œI’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
    â€œNight, Dad.”
    Downstairs, Lily was watching the news. “Our sons good?”
    He sat beside her on the couch. “Devon is still in denial about why Zoey’s treating him like persona non grata, and I think Amari’s in love.”
    â€œI know he is.”
    Trent stared. “With who?”
    â€œI think it’s Kyra Jones.”
    â€œFrom church? The one with the six-­five dad who looks like he eats tractors for dinner?”
    â€œYeah. She and Amari are on the same acolyte team, and the past two Sundays I noticed him peeking at her, a lot, and her peeking back, a lot.”
    â€œHow come I didn’t notice?”
    â€œBecause you’re not his mama. Mamas always know who’s trying to get next to their sons.”
    â€œShe seems nice.”
    â€œYes. Way quiet, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two or three words, but then Amari talks enough for everybody in town. Going to be interesting to see how this plays out.”
    Trent thought so too, but wondered how the six-­five tractor eater would react.
    Lily’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What did Bobby want to talk to you about? He looked pretty upset.”
    He told her about the conversation in Mal’s office.
    â€œHe thought you were hitting on him?” she asked, laughing.
    â€œTold him he wasn’t that cute.”
    â€œDefinitely not as cute as your wife.”
    He put his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close, and then related the rest of the talk they’d had. When he’d finished, Lily asked seriously, “Do you think he’ll show up in the morning?”
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know him well enough to even speculate, but I hope he does.”
    â€œSo do I.”

 
CHAPTER
    6
    S itting on the bed in her motel room, Rita Lynn knew if she wanted to get past the hurt brought on by the letter, forgiving her parents was paramount. But it was difficult. They’d loved her and did what they felt was best for her future, but that future was impacting the present with a heartache so consuming she was finding it hard to sleep. Because of their decision, so much was owed, but after the passage of forty years, did it matter? Had she been written off—­forgotten? Worrying about how she’d be received couldn’t be a factor. That she’d played no part in her parents’ actions couldn’t be a factor either—­it didn’t banish the guilt plaguing her, nor salve her overwhelming sense of loss.
    The loss, more than anything, brought forth such a tremendous rage that her fists balled, and she shook with the urge to scream, but that wouldn’t change anything. The past was done. She had only the future, which meant returning to the place where it all began. There was no other choice.
    She put on her coat, locked the door of the motel room, and, pulling her roller bag after her, headed down the open walk to the rental car she’d picked up yesterday evening at the airport. Having lived in California most of her adult life, she’d forgotten how cold the Kansas plains could be in early December, especially at dawn. She blew on her freezing hands and shivered as she waited for the heat to cut the chill in the car’s interior.
    She hadn’t slept well last night. She hadn’t expected to. Worries about how she’d be received kept resurfacing, but she fought them down, reminding herself this was the only way.
    The rental car was fairly new, so it didn’t take long for the warmth to rise or