Kathleen O'Brien - Texas Trouble p.02

Darn it. Nora had hoped for something a little farther back. Evelyn’s judgmental
gaze wouldn’t make it any easier for Sean to pull off that arpeggio that had
been giving him so much trouble.
But she had no option. She led a damp and tousled Harry to the seats, put him in
the middle, and gave Evelyn a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. The gesture was
mostly for show, since many of Evelyn’s friends were here, and she would have
accused Nora of embarrassing her publicly if the greeting had been cool.
They hadn’t made peace yet, and Nora didn’t see a real truce being likely as
long as Evelyn’s threat about getting “legal rights” hung over their heads.
Nora didn’t honestly believe any judge would dream of taking these boys away
from their mother, not after they’d already lost their father.
Still. It made her nervous.
She waved at Tad Rutherford’s mother, a very sweet woman who had been bending
over backward to be friendly ever since the incident in the music room.
Then she glanced through the program, though she knew it by heart, having put it
together herself.
Anything to keep from making small talk with Evelyn.
She needn’t have worried. The other woman was absorbed in Harry, retying his
shoelace and straightening his collar. When she began brushing his wet bangs out
of his forehead, he started to wriggle.
Nora realized she’d have to provide a distraction.
“Did you see Sean?” She caught her sister-in-law’s gaze. “He’s wearing the
jacket you bought him last week. He loves it.”
Evelyn offered her a chilly smile, but she didn’t stop adjusting Harry’s hair.
She hated the boys’ cowlicks, and was always working to subdue them.
“No, I haven’t seen him. He’s backstage, I assume, and busy.”
Harry began to lean toward Nora, trying to get away from his aunt’s hands. That
would hurt Evelyn’s feelings, so Nora wracked her brain for something else to
say.
“Evelyn, I was wondering if—”
But something over Nora’s shoulder had caught Evelyn’s attention. Her black eyes
sharpened.
Whatever it was, Evelyn didn’t like it.
Nora swiveled, looking behind her. She hoped to God Sean hadn’t taken off the
jacket.
Evelyn grasped Nora’s shoulder with her cold fingers. She leaned close, over
Harry’s head, and spoke in a low, severe whisper.
“Did you invite him?”
Who? Nora scanned the crowd, which was overflowing now. The student ushers were
leading newcomers to standing-room-only positions along the wall.
Then she saw him.
Logan.
He had come after all.
In spite of Evelyn’s obvious enmity, her heart lifted. For Sean’s sake, of
course. She was happy, because now Sean would have no reason to feel rejected.
Their eyes met, and after a couple of seconds Logan smiled. He shrugged
slightly, as if to say his presence was something of a surprise to him, as well.
Evelyn’s fingers tightened on Nora’s shoulder. “I said, did you invite him?”
“No,” Nora answered calmly. She glanced at Evelyn’s hand, and the older woman
removed it. “No, I didn’t.”
“Sean did,” Harry said. He knelt on the chair to get a better look. “But we
thought he wasn’t going to come. He hates kids.”
The students began filing onto the stage and arranging themselves in their
positions. The principal musicians on chairs, the chorus on small risers, the
MCs at the mics.
Nora found Sean, ready to give him the thumbs-up that had always been their
special signal.
He wasn’t looking at his mother, though. He was studying the audience, just as
she had a minute ago. His eyes were dark, mutely hungry, darting from face to
face, searching for the one he was afraid he wouldn’t see.
He had set his jaw so that neither relief nor disappointment could show in his
mouth.
But there was nothing he could do about those eyes.
When he spotted Logan, everything changed.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t move a muscle. But a spark instantly lit the darkness
of his gaze.
Nora doubted whether anyone, even Logan himself, or Evelyn with her eagle eyes,
would notice it. If Nora didn’t know Sean to the core, even she might have
missed the little flare of pleasure.
But she saw it. And, paradoxically, the warmth of that spark sent a chill
through her veins.
Because there was no answering spark in Logan’s eyes. He had come here to be
polite, nothing more. She glanced at her son, who was so confused and lonely,
and who obviously had pinned so many secret hopes on this kind, interesting,
slightly remote neighbor.
A man who was, in spite of the accidental proximity of their homes, essentially
a stranger.
She’d have to talk to Sean. A gentle warning.
Go slowly. Don’t invest too much too soon…
She couldn’t stop herself from looking around one more time. Logan’s gaze was on
her still. She flushed like a teenager and turned back, praying that Evelyn
hadn’t noticed.
But as the lights dimmed, and Sean’s opening notes floated out into the hushed
auditorium, Nora wondered…
Go slowly…
Was she talking to Sean? Or was she talking to herself?
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS GOING TO RAIN again, and if Logan wanted to get the roof of the hawk
enclosure patched, he didn’t have much time. He’d been a fool to waste two hours
going to the elementary school concert.
A royal fool. In so many ways.
But it was done. It couldn’t be undone, and he wasn’t going to waste any more
time regretting it. When the curtain came down, he hustled out of there, deftly
avoiding getting entangled in any chitchat with the friendly Eastcreek PTA,
especially Nora or Evelyn.
When he got home, he quickly stripped off his button-down shirt and khakis,
switching to a pair of filthy jeans and a sweatshirt with more holes than
fabric. It was a relief to be home again. He should just accept that he was more
comfortable with the birds, who didn’t want anything from him except food and
medicine.
If only everyone else would accept that, too. Maybe, he thought with a chuckle,
he should get a baseball cap that said Hermit: Approach with Caution.
Then the doorbell rang.
He should ignore it. He was cranky, and he didn’t feel like making small talk,
especially not if it turned out to be Annie. Logan had made the mistake of
asking her out a second time last week, and then, over dinner, committed the
cardinal sin of admitting he hated to cook.
He might as well have painted a target on his back.
Since then, Annie had shown up at the cabin every other night, with a casserole
or a plate of brownies in her hands. The gesture was so nice—hell, Annie was so
nice—that he knew he should invite her in. But he couldn’t raise hopes he had no
intention of fulfilling. So he’d walk her to her car, trying not to feel like a
jerk who’d just kicked a kitten to the curb.
Lord, don’t let it be Annie, he thought as he shoved his feet into his sneakers
without even untying them.
“I’m coming,” he called out as the doorbell rang again.
He opened the door.
Aw, hell. Take that back…he’d rather deal with Annie any day.
It was Nora. And instead of an armful of cookies, she held an armful of papers.
“Hi,” she said softly. “I have the flyers for the school programs. I thought you
might like to see them.”
It was just an excuse, really, and they both knew it.
In a way, a lot like Annie. And yet, completely different.
By all normal yardsticks, he should have found it even easier to send Nora away.
She had none of Annie’s assiduously cultivated sexuality. Nora looked as skinny
and small as a kid, and the cloudy night snuffed out the fire of her hair. She
still wore her swingy green dress from the concert, but it looked a little big
for her, as if she’d recently lost weight. The yellow bug light on his porch
turned her complicated hazel eyes gray.
And yet…
He should say something. She looked uncomfortable. But what?
I’m one mixed-up son of a bitch, and I don’t feel like talking, and I damn sure
don’t want to be your kids’ new daddy, but I sure would love to have sex with
you right now.
“Did I come at a bad time?” She cleared her throat and shifted her weight to her
other foot. “It’s not just the flyers, really. I also wanted to thank you for
coming to Sean’s concert tonight. It meant a lot to him.”
“No problem.” Hell, he even sounded like a hermit. A cave dweller. Grouchy,
husky, unaware of basic social refinement. “Look, Nora, about tonight.”
She blinked, and he thought maybe her fingers tightened on the stack of flyers.
“About tonight,” he began again.
He couldn’t decide how to finish the sentence. He had started out thinking he’d
say something about Sean, and how the kid probably should stop coming here
before he got too attached.
Then he thought, forget Sean, the important thing is to make her go home.
But then he tried to imagine her walking away, setting the flyers down and
getting back into her car. He tried to imagine her driving away, and the relief
he’d feel once she left.
Except that he didn’t feel relieved. He felt…alone.
He might not want to be with Sean. Or the Eastcreek PTA. Or Annie with the
brownies.
But he did want to be with Nora. His subconscious, that sneaky, self-absorbed
manipulator, had already done the calculations. It was Friday. The boys would be
with their aunt. She wouldn’t have to rush away.
For a little while, she could forget, maybe, that she was a mother, or a widow,
or anything but a woman.
Perhaps she could even make him forget.
“What about tonight, Logan?” She frowned slightly, as if something in his manner
had begun to worry her. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” He set his shoulders and took the leap. “It’s actually lucky
that you stopped by. I have to patch the roof of the hawk enclosure, which means
getting up on the extension ladder. Any chance you’d be willing to hold it
steady for me?”
She smiled, reassured.
“I’d be honored,” she said, and the small musical note of laughter in her voice
went right through him.
He took the flyers, dropped them on the hall table, then led her around the side
yard, toward the sanctuary. It would have been quicker to go through the house
and out the back, but he didn’t trust himself that close to the bedroom.
At least out here the owls were always watching.
It was a long walk through winding paths lit only by the moon and a series of
small, glowing landscape globes. Hoping to avoid a discussion of Sean, he opened
a conversation about his great-aunt Doreen, who had left this land to him. Nora
had known Doreen better than Logan had, having been her next door neighbor for
ten years.
The old lady had been the black sheep of the Cathcart family, an elderly flower
child who lived in a little log-and-stone house and grew her own food. Growing
steadily more eccentric, she never made it to Maine, and the mainstream
Cathcarts rarely came here to visit her.
“She was a real pistol,” Nora said, laughing. “She drove Harrison crazy, of
course, because he wanted to buy her land, and she wasn’t one bit interested, no
matter how much he offered. Finally she told him if he didn’t stop badgering
her, she’d get a restraining order.”
Logan laughed. He’d never heard that story.
“I only met her once,” he said. “I was about Sean’s age. The family went on a
driving vacation that summer, and we ended up here for a few days. My parents
were shocked. They laughed about the visit all the way to the Grand Canyon, but
I loved being with Doreen. I loved her weird meals, which actually tasted
fantastic. I was sure she could talk to the animals, and I wanted to learn how
she did it.”
Nora smiled. “Is that why she left the land to you? Did she know you were going
to take up rehabbing?”
“God, no. No one knew, not even me.” He thought about his mother’s appalled face
when she heard. “I’m the first Cathcart since…since the Mayflower, probably…not
to practice law.”
He was watching the muddy path, but he could feel the pause in her step as she
turned to look at him.
“Why didn’t you follow the family tradition?”
“Actually, I did. For about three years. It wasn’t for me.”
Simple, but essentially true. No need to go into all the reasons why he’d needed
a change. No need to mention Rebecca, or Benjamin.
Or Danny.
She touched his arm lightly. Too lightly to account for the sizzle that sped
through his veins.
“Well,” she said. “I know a bunch of wounded birds who are very glad you decided
not to stay a lawyer. And a lot of people, too.”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t dare. God only knew what he might have said. Or
done. Just walking along beside her, keeping a respectable distance, talking
about casual things—and he couldn’t stop thinking about sex.
The wind blew her skirt against her thighs, and his groin tightened. The air
carried her perfume to his nose, along with the musky scent of the approaching
storm, and he started to burn in all the wrong places.
He should have sent her packing, just like Annie. Only faster.
Finally, after an aeon of that torture, they reached the birds. He grabbed a
couple of flashlights from one of the equipment sheds and handed one to her. The
landscape lights were kept dim, so that they wouldn’t bother the birds, and the
moon kept skimming in and out of rain-clouds, so it wasn’t much use.
Then he switched on a spotlight he’d put out earlier, which shone directly on
the damage he’d have to repair.
“Oh, no.” Nora spotted the mess at the hawk enclosure immediately. The
thunderstorm this afternoon had brought a lot of wind. One of the old oaks had
lost a branch that drove straight through the roof of the hawk enclosure, like a
spear.
“Is Max all right?”
“He’s fine. He was hunkered down at the back, trying to stay dry, like the
pampered princess he is. But that branch leads dangerously close to the torn
spot. If he took a notion to go wandering, he could probably get out.”
Logan pulled out the big blue plastic tarp he’d left beside the enclosure. He’d
considered skipping the concert to fix the roof right away, but at the last
minute decided Sean needed him more.
Logan had been gambling on Max’s laziness to keep him inside, and he was
relieved to see he’d won that bet.
The hawk was still standing where Logan had seen him last, on the back perch,
with his baby toys scattered on the sand of the cage floor around him, gleaming
wetly. Max was nearly domesticated in some ways. He loved toys almost as much as
he loved treats.
Logan held out the tarp. “Tonight, I just need to attach this up there. Vic will
arrange a permanent repair tomorrow.”
“Can I hand it up to you? It looks pretty heavy.”
“I’ve got it.” He set the ladder in place. “But if you’d pass me the hammer and
those nails when I’m ready, that would be a big help.”
She nodded, and he began to climb. She obediently put her hand on the edge of
the ladder and watched him ascend. He glanced down at her once, and couldn’t
help smiling at her serious expression.
Apparently she didn’t know what a crock this “ladder holding” job really was. Or
maybe she didn’t care. She clearly was just glad to be a part of it all.
She’d been comfortable at the sanctuary from the get-go. Logan had trained a lot
of volunteers in the past eighteen months, and he knew a natural when he saw
one. Even the birds sensed it and were less agitated when she entered their
cages to help with feeding or cleaning.
Sean was different. Even though he obviously had good instincts—his gut feeling
that Hamlet was sick had probably saved the owl’s life—he still upset the birds
whenever he came near. Maybe the creatures recognized Texas hunter-rancher DNA
when they smelled it, or maybe his inner turmoil simply emitted bad vibes.
Vic wouldn’t let Sean do any feeding, grooming…anything that brought him too
close to the birds.
Logan spread out the tarp along the roof. Luckily, the branch had gone all the
way through, so he didn’t have to get out the chain saw and free the screen.
As he unfolded the blue plastic, Max let out a scratchy caw. But Logan could
hear that the hawk wasn’t annoyed. Just talking to Nora, probably, urging her to
notice him.
She handed up the tools, and their fingers collided clumsily. For a minute he
was glad she was holding the ladder, because he definitely wasn’t as steady as
he ought to be.
Back to work, damn it. Trying not to hammer so hard he woke up every bird in the
place, Logan set a nail as an anchor. He tied the tarp to the nail with the
twine that wound through the eyelets.
He set his best knot in the twine, then used shorter lengths to tie the tarp to
the mesh. Finally he leaned back to survey his work.
It wouldn’t survive a hurricane, but it probably would last the night.
“Okay, coming down,” he warned Nora, as he stepped backward down the ladder. He
was careful. The ground was muddy, which made his sneakers slick, and the rungs
were slippery, too.
The last thing he wanted was to pitch off this damn thing and crush her beneath
him.
Right?
He made it down. But she was still right there, hanging on to the wet silver leg
of the ladder, not sure when it was all right to let go.
He smiled to show he was in one piece, and she smiled back. As their gazes
locked, the moment hummed with awareness. They were alone, except for the birds.
“Logan,” she said, her voice stilted. “I really did want to thank you for
tonight. I know you didn’t have the time to spare, but it meant a lot to Sean.”
He wasn’t breathing quite right. The nearness of this woman seemed to do
something to the air.
“It was nothing,” he said, equally stiff.
“Not to Sean, it wasn’t. I don’t know if you saw his face, but—”
“I saw it.” He fought to keep his voice even. “And you know what it told me? It
told me I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place.”
“But—”
“Listen to me, Nora. I feel sorry for him. I do.”
That was why, in the end, he’d decided to go to the concert. He knew how hard it
had been for Sean to admit that he wanted anything, that he cared whether anyone
came to see him play the guitar or not. Logan understood that kind of pride. He
knew how humiliating it would be to ask, and be rejected.
“But the truth is, I can’t take him on. I’m not interested in taking anyone on.
Not in that way. Do you understand?”
She nodded awkwardly, and he knew she had understood that he meant her, too. He
wasn’t looking for any permanent commitments.
He wondered if he’d hurt her. But damn it, it was true, and if they were going
to do anything dumb tonight, he didn’t want to do it under false pretences.
“Yes, of course I understand.” Her eyes were wide and liquid in the cloudy
moonlight. “It’ll be all right. I’ll talk to Sean. I’ll make sure he
understands, too.”
But Sean wouldn’t understand. Logan knew he’d made a mess of it, and it would be
desperately difficult to untangle things now. He’d failed to draw the proper
boundaries, and now they’d reached that unhappy fork in the road.
Sean would either go forward in intimacy, ready to care about Logan and let him
into his life, or he would go forward in deep resentment and anger, with a
hatred born of imagined rejection.
Finding a middle road would be so delicate…
Almost as impossible as finding that same middle road with Nora. They, too,
stood at a forked path.
He knew he should step back. This attraction, as intense as it was, couldn’t
lead to anything but a few hours of pleasure, followed by awkward regret.
He knew the Nora Archers of the world. He knew what they needed from a man.
And what she needed, he no longer had to give.
And yet he was still a man.
A man who was burning up with sexual frustration, standing here in the glare of
the spotlight, with wet darkness all around him. Standing so close to this pale,
worried mom who should have been off-limits.
Behind them, the trees and shrubs were shifting, whispering, rustling with
anxiety about the storm that was headed their way. Even the birds had begun to
fidget and call, and lift their wings in fear.
He hadn’t felt this kind of lust in…in years. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt it,
not quite like this. It was simultaneously exciting and painful. Strangely
helpless and yet thrillingly alive.
In the end, he simply didn’t have the self-control to stop himself.
He lowered his head, till he was no more than a feather’s distance from her
lips. He paused there, just long enough for the word no to be spoken. But it
didn’t come. Instead, he felt the warmth of her breath like small, eager waves
against his mouth, coming faster, faster…
The feeble protests of his conscience never had a chance.
Her half-parted mouth was sweet and hot, and the instant he touched it, he
needed more. As he drove deeper, he sensed a strange uncertainty in her touch,
some complex kind of confusion. But it didn’t mean no. Her hands pressed
themselves against his chest, and they were kneading softly, an age-old gesture
he recognized well.
Oh, he’d missed this…he’d missed this so much. There was such blissful relief in
this, losing yourself in another person, letting passion burn away your thoughts
until your mind was a clean, white slate.
He welcomed the fire. He moved hard across the satin heat of her lips, and
claimed the inner darkness, too. He inhaled the perfume of wildflowers and rain
that belonged uniquely to her. He blindly registered, with pulsing heat and a
delicious, focused pain, the contours of her body, her breasts against him, her
hips under his hands….
He lowered his head, and let his kisses trail along her neck, her shoulder. Her
collarbone, as fragile as a starling, and then the gentle swell beneath. He bent
further, his lips seeking, his hands moving over the buttons of her dress.
And then, just as he lay the silky green fabric aside, and bared the glowing
white lace of her bra, the milky curve of her breast, Max began to scream.
The screeching, air-splitting sound made even Logan’s hair stand on end. He
could only imagine how it frightened Nora. She gasped, whipping her head toward
the sound, and jerked away.
In the bushes, something rustled heavily, as if it, too, had been panicked by
the sound. Nora stared at the shivering foliage, her lips parted, her hands
holding the edges of her open bodice.
Within seconds, the bushes nearest Max’s enclosure fell silent. But a few yards
away, just beyond the reach of the sanctuary lights, other bushes cracked and
shifted. As they stood there, the sounds moved even deeper into the trees,
gradually growing more muted, waning yard by yard.
Then they were gone.
“Nora,” he said. He touched her elbow. “It was nothing. It was probably a
raccoon.”
He meant it. It could have been a possum, a boar or a large stray dog. Max
didn’t like large animals. “It could have been anything.”
She held her shirt together with pale fingers as she stared off into the murky
forest, and he knew she was trying to read the darkness.
“It was nothing,” he said.
She turned, finally, and looked at him. Her eyes were no longer frightened. But
their expression was bleak, and he knew that, over the course of one small
minute, everything had changed.
“Nora,” he said. “It wasn’t Sean.”
She glanced once more into the trees, and then she looked at him and nodded.
“I know,” she said. Her voice was ragged, as if she still hadn’t caught her
breath. “But…it could have been. And that’s all that really matters.”
He tried not to argue, though his body was aching with frustration. It could
have been Sean. Evelyn’s house was only a mile or two away. She might believe
she was the perfect guardian, but a smart, determined kid could outwit her if he
was determined enough.
Logan and Nora both knew Sean had already run away twice, and both times he’d
come to Two Wings.
Yes. Though they knew it wasn’t Sean, they also knew it could have been.
But was that really the only thing that mattered?
Suddenly Logan understood why he’d felt confusion in her kiss. She hadn’t been
confused about her own desires. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she
had been confused about Sean, and what this might mean for him.
Obviously, since Max’s cruelly timed wake-up call, she wasn’t confused anymore.
Most normal nine-year-old boys could handle the sight of their mom kissing a new
man.
But Sean wasn’t a normal boy.
Her blouse was almost rebuttoned now. She was going home. Or perhaps to Evelyn’s
house, to satisfy her maternal fears and see her son sleeping in his bed with
her own eyes.
“Come on,” he said, accepting defeat, and trying to remember that it was
probably for the best. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

NORA CALLED EVELYN from her cell the minute she got on the road.
She knew it hadn’t been Sean in the bushes. It couldn’t have been.
But if it had been, where would that leave him now? Alone in the middle of
nowhere, in the middle of the night? Hiding somewhere in the empty acres beyond
the sanctuary lights?
She had to know.
“Nora? What’s wrong?”
Evelyn had caller ID, and she somehow thought it exempted her from the need to
answer the phone normally.
“Hi, Evelyn,” Nora said, straining to hit her standard tone. Her guilty
conscience made her think that her lips sounded thick, as if they’d just been
roughly kissed. “I just wondered if Sean was still awake.”
“No, he’s sleeping, of course. You know I enforce a very strict bedtime when
they’re here.”
Yes, yes, Evelyn did everything exactly right. Nora didn’t give a damn about
that power struggle now.
“I’m sorry to ask, but can you put him on the phone, anyway? I—”
I…what?
Nora’s mind was still slightly dazed, and she wasn’t mentally sharp enough to
think of a good excuse. The dark road slid beneath her tires, and she had to
work to remember where her turns would be.
“I promised him I’d call and say good-night. Please, Evelyn, put him on the
phone.”
“No. That’s absurd.” Evelyn sounded prim but not displeased, as if she enjoyed
being able to deny Nora anything. “He didn’t say a word about hearing from you.
He’s asleep.”
“I know.” A weakness suddenly assaulted her. Perhaps it was the ebbing of the
adrenaline, leaving her drained and hollow. She fought it. “Evelyn. Just wake
him up. Please.”
The older woman hesitated. “What’s the matter with you, Nora?” Her voice was
suspicious. “Are you even at home? Have you been drinking?”
Finally, Nora lost her patience. Who did this woman think she was, keeping Nora
from her son?
With shaking hands, she pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. Rain
had begun to splatter against the windshield, and she needed to concentrate.
“You know I don’t drink, Evelyn. Put Sean on the telephone, or I’ll come by
there and wake him up myself. If I have to do that, I warn you this will be the
last time he ever spends the night at your house.”
Even through the airwaves, Nora could feel the other woman’s outrage. The only
response was the sound of Evelyn’s breathing, slightly more labored as she
climbed the stairs to the side-by-side rooms where Harry and Sean slept when
they visited.
A door creaked, followed by a muffled whisper.
And then, thank God, the sound of her son’s sleepy, worried voice.
“Mom? What’s up? Is everything okay?”
She gripped the phone so hard her fingers hurt. She shut her eyes and let her
head fall against the headrest.
“Everything is fine, honey. Everything is absolutely fine.”
CHAPTER NINE
MAYBE, LOGAN TOLD HIMSELF in the frustrated days after the kiss, it had been all
for the best.
Maybe, in the end, it would actually make things easier.
Maybe, instead of complicating things, the kiss would clear the air. The
chemistry between them had always lurked invisibly in the undercurrents. Sparks
flew, tension built…but it was all too shameful and dangerous to speak of.
Would they? Wouldn’t they?
Should they? Shouldn’t they?
The questions had been driving them both insane.
Now they’d hauled it out in the open. They’d looked it straight in the eye,
named it and discovered that they did, ultimately, have the power to resist it.
He knew it wouldn’t completely eliminate the electricity, or the energy that
fizzed between them if their shoulders or fingers accidentally touched. But
surely it would help. Now they knew where they stood. He’d been honest about
what kind of relationship he offered. She’d turned it down.
The decision was made. They would be friends only.
Working together should be pretty simple from here on out.
If she came back at all, that was.
She wasn’t expected until today—the Thursday following the kiss—when she’d set
up a four-o’clock appointment to talk to the Eastcreek Garden Club about
sponsoring the landscaping. Nora knew these people. They were part of Harrison
Archer’s social set.
He knew she could talk the club into writing a nice, fat check.
He checked his watch. If she showed up at all.
She was five minutes early, but he’d already been pacing the admin office for
twenty minutes, wondering if he should call her to confirm. He watched through
the window as she stepped out of her car. The sun glinted on her auburn curls,
picking out copper-and-gold strands that danced in the wind.
And he knew, in one piercing stab of lust, that he had been completely fooling
himself.
Post-kiss wasn’t going to be easier. It was going to be hell.
Growling softly at the painful tightness in his jeans, he turned away from the
window and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Maybe he’d gone too long without a woman. It had been almost three and a half
years. He’d assumed that because he had no interest in emotional intimacy, no
desire for even the least hint of commitment, he hadn’t healed. Wasn’t ready.
Well, his heart might still be lying around his chest in numb, useless pieces.
But apparently his body was fixed and good to go.
The door opened, letting a new shaft of sunlight in. He looked up, realizing
Nora had brought Sean with her. This wasn’t Sean’s regular day. Had she decided
she needed a buffer?
“Hi, Logan,” she said, an easy lilt in her voice. She was gorgeous in a golden
brown sundress and sandals. She looked and sounded completely comfortable.
He wondered if it was artificial. Had she practiced that bland expression, that
chummy tone, in front of the mirror?
Or was he really the only one who couldn’t stop thinking about that night?
“Hi,” he said. He smiled at Sean. “Hey, there. Back already? You just can’t get
enough hard labor?”
Now that Logan really looked, he saw that Sean certainly didn’t mirror his
mother’s easy cheer. Quite the opposite. The boy looked stormy, his eyes too
bright and his muscles too tight.
So Nora’s nonchalance was an act. No way she could be this relaxed after driving
here with this thunderhead. Logan would be willing to bet, judging from Sean’s
face, that he and his mom had fought bitterly all the way here, and he’d lost.
God, the kid’s moods were unpredictable. Earlier this week, when he’d come for
his regular shifts, he’d been in great spirits. Cooperative, easy to handle. The
ideal volunteer.
Logan had thought maybe showing up at the concert had bought a little goodwill.
Ha.
“No,” Sean said. “I’ve had plenty of work, believe me. My mom doesn’t trust me
alone with Milly.” He glared at Nora. “She left Harry with her, though. Which
doesn’t make any sense, because Harry’s only five.”
Nora put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Sean, we’re finished talking about
this.” She looked at Logan. “Are there any chores he can do while we have the
meeting?”
Sure there were chores. There were always chores, especially now that the open
house was a week from Saturday, only nine days away.
“Yeah, I think we—”
“I’m not working for free,” Sean interrupted darkly. “If I do a bunch of stupid
work, I’m taking it off what I owe him.”
Nora’s cheeks burned a bright pink. Logan saw that she was very, very angry with
her son.
“All right,” she said, her voice still calm. “But let’s see. As long as we’re
counting every minute, how much do you think you owe Logan for coming to your
concert last week?”
Sean’s chin went up. “Nothing. You already told me he only came because he wants
to have a good relationship with the school, for his programs.”
She shot a look at Logan, and he knew what she was telling him. This was how
she’d carried out his wishes. This was how she’d kept Sean from reading too much
into Logan’s appearance at the elementary school.
“Well, it was actually both,” Logan said, trying to cover over the crack as
smoothly as possible. “But of course you’ll get credit for any work you do
today. That’s only fair.”
Sean was unappeased. “I’d rather just sit here while you have your meeting. I
have homework.”
“No,” Nora insisted, and her tone was firm. She obviously didn’t think her
bad-tempered son would be an asset in a fundraising session. And Logan had to
admit he agreed. “It’s a meeting for grown-ups only. If Vic has work for you,
that’s where you need to be.”
Logan had already texted Vic, and the manager appeared at the door promptly.
“Sean’s going to help with the paperwork for a little while today,” Logan said.
Vic nodded without enthusiasm. He had worked with Sean often enough to recognize
that scowl.
As Vic held the door open, Sean shuffled out, his annoyance evident in every
bone of his skinny, hunched-over frame.
“Sorry,” Nora said when they were gone. She was still going for the light tone
but missing slightly. “He has good days and bad days. Obviously this is a bad
day.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Logan said.
She stood by the window, looking out. He held on to the desk, anchoring himself
there so that he wouldn’t walk up behind her and put his arms around her
defeated shoulders.
“Nora,” he began.
“Wait… Yes. They’re here.”
When she turned, he saw that she’d squared her shoulders again, and put her game
face back on. She no longer looked like an angry, worried mom, and she certainly
didn’t look like a sweaty, enthusiastic volunteer.
Instead, she looked sublimely poised and gracious. She looked like what she was,
big-shot Harrison Archer’s elegant society widow.
She looked like a woman who would easily coax ten thousand dollars out of the
Eastcreek Garden Club today, the Junior League tomorrow.
A fortune to Two Wings. Money the sanctuary desperately needed.
And yet, fool that he was, Logan would have locked the door and told them all to
go to hell, if it meant he could, just one more time, steal a taste of those
wildflower lips.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES INTO the Garden Club meeting, Binky Fryer, the president,
gave Misty Alicoate, the treasurer, the secret blink that meant write the check.
Nora breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She hadn’t really doubted they’d donate,
partly because these women sincerely loved nature—and partly because Logan
Cathcart was so attractive he could charm honey from the bees with one smile.
But Nora had felt so off today, so distracted by Sean, and by seeing Logan
again, that she’d been afraid she might blow it.
She met Logan’s gaze over the heads of the women who were bent over their
checkbook. He looked pleased. This money would pay for landscaping the acres
that were open to the public, leaving him free to use the existing funds to
upgrade the clinic, his dream project.
Actually, Nora would have loved to open up the Archer bank account and let it
pour all over Two Wings, until every one of Logan’s dream projects came true.
But a couple of things stood in her way. One was Evelyn, of course, who
carefully watched Nora’s every move. Whenever Nora gave away any of what Evelyn
called “Harrison’s money” or “the boys’ inheritance,” whether it was to the
elementary school or to the homeless shelters, or even to the bell-ringers at
Christmas, Evelyn gave her a lecture in Economics 101.
She clearly believed that Nora, unchecked, would donate them all into penury.
The other obstacle was Logan himself, who clearly was uncomfortable with the
idea. He had to take money from somewhere, of course. She got the impression
he’d invested heavily with his own funds, which, since he was only about
twenty-eight, could hardly be limitless.
Start-up nonprofits like Two Wings couldn’t possibly be self-sustaining. Bird
sanctuaries would always be in need.
But he obviously didn’t want to take his donations from her.
So she was delighted that she could at least help him find others willing to
participate.
They were standing in front of the ticket booth, waving goodbye to the Garden
Club board members sailing smoothly away in their luxury cars, when Logan’s cell
phone went off.
He answered it, listened for a second, then turned to Nora, his face somber.
“It’s Sean,” he said. “We need to get back to the sanctuary.”
He started to move toward the boardwalk, but she grabbed his wrist. “Wait. What
is it? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” he said, pulling her along. “But we need to get back there. He’s
locked himself in the clinic.”
Oh, God. Nora followed Logan as he jogged along the twisting path. She wished
she’d worn her sneakers instead of these heels, which slowed her down. Why the
clinic? She tried to remember what kinds of instruments the vets kept in there.
What kinds of medicines?
Which birds were housed in there right now? Oh, Sean, she moaned silently as her
heart began to pound. Please don’t do anything stupid.
She was breathing heavily by the time they reached the clinic, though that
probably was nerves, not exertion. She came to a halt awkwardly as she saw the
crowd gathered around the small wooden building. Two or three volunteers watched
curiously as a red-faced Vic Downing pounded on the door.
“I mean business, Sean. Open that goddamned door.”
Logan touched his manager’s back. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Let me have a try.”
Vic seemed to find it difficult to back away. Obviously things had reached a
pitch here. But Logan patted his back lightly, and that seemed to recall him to
his senses.
He shook his head, then stepped down.
Logan glanced around at the others. “Okay, guys, time to get back to work. We’re
opening in nine days, remember? Todd, you’ve finished that flying cage already?
Renee, what about the concrete for the path to the amphitheater?”
He didn’t raise his voice, but the effect was dramatic. The teens began to move,
as if they’d just woken from a sleep. Even Vic seemed to remember he was
supposed to be in charge.
In about thirty seconds, only Logan and Nora remained.
“What happened?” Nora kept her voice low. She looked through the window, but the
cages blocked her view. “Are we even sure he’s in there?”
“Vic’s seen him, apparently. Sean’s put something in front of the door, so that
even our master key won’t get the door open. And he moved the cages, Vic says,
to keep anyone from breaking the window and getting in that way.”
She put her hand on her forehead. “But why? Did Vic say what happened?”
“I gather Sean was in here checking on the baby owl. Vic told him he had to get
out and get back to work. He assumed Sean had done so, but the next time he
tried to get into the clinic, it was locked.”
She leaned against the side of the building. “Is it Hank? He loves that owl,”
she said. “I know that’s no excuse, but…”
“No,” Logan agreed grimly. “It certainly isn’t.”
“What can we do?”
Logan frowned. “We can take the door off the hinges, if we have to. But I’m
hoping he’ll open it.”
She hoped so, too, but she realized that she had no idea whether he would. Her
heart sped up again, as she realized she hardly knew her little boy anymore.
“Sean, it’s Logan.” He rapped softly on the door with his knuckles, a world of
difference from Vic’s aggressive pounding. “I need you to talk to me, so that I
know you’re okay.”
Silence. Nora opened her mouth to add her voice, but Logan put up a finger.
“You’re too emotional,” he said quietly. “You’re too involved.”
She nodded. It was true. She had no idea what to say, anger and anxiety creating
a roiling mixture of emotions just under the surface calm.
“Sean,” Logan said again, still measured. “I need to know you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay.” The voice from inside was hostile, but hearty.
Nora shut her eyes in relief.
“Good,” Logan said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? What do you think, I’m going to slit my wrists with the
feeding tweezers?”
Logan chuckled. Nora watched him in awe. How was he able to do that? She was
still trying to breathe past her heart, which seemed to have lodged about
halfway up her throat.
“No,” Logan admitted. “But then I also didn’t think you were going to lock me
out of my own clinic. So you can see why I’m not sure.”
Another silence. Nora pressed her ear to the door, hoping to hear what her son
was doing.
“Yeah, well.” Sean sounded a little unsure of his ground. “Well, I didn’t think
you were going to be such an asshole about everything and treat me like such a
baby. So I guess we’re even.”
Nora inhaled. She’d never heard her son say that word before. But Logan was
grinning wryly. He looked at her briefly, shaking his head as if to say, don’t
have a hissy fit. It’s just a word.
He turned back to the door. “Sean, you know you’re going to have to open that
door. I let you work here in the first place because you showed some guts the
night you came over to get your bird. You didn’t act like a baby that night, and
you didn’t get treated like one.”
“So?”
“So I’m saying, if you want to be treated like a man, you’re going to have to
start acting like one. Open the door. Men don’t hide behind a bunch of sick baby
birds.”
Another silence. And then the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Nora
looked at the window, and saw her son’s face appear above the cages. He looked
like a stranger.
The face disappeared as quickly as it came.
And then she heard the sound of a dead-bolt lock being twisted.
The door opened, and Sean came slowly out. He looked at Nora, but he didn’t run
up to her. He just stood on the bottom step, looking angry and proud.
Logan went up the stairs, ducked in and did a brief scan of the room. He came
back out almost immediately, apparently assured that all was well.
“I didn’t do a damn thing to your precious birds,” Sean said. “All I wanted was
to make sure Hank was all right. I wanted to talk to him for a few minutes, but
Mr. Downing wouldn’t let me.”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” Logan said soberly. “Mr. Downing is your
boss when you’re here. You’ve disobeyed him, and you’ve crossed the line. If you
can’t take orders, you can’t work here.”
Nora could see Sean stiffen, and her heart cried out. It was too harsh a
punishment. He hadn’t actually hurt anything.
But then she looked at Logan, and she realized that this was what he’d meant.
She was too emotional. She was too anxious for her son. She was too tangled up
to make decisions that would be good for him.
“I can’t work here anymore?” Sean’s scowl was deep over red-rimmed eyes.
Logan shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Good,” he said harshly. “I don’t care. You think I don’t know why you let me
work here in the first place? You just used me to get to my mom. You want to be
my mom’s boyfriend.”
“Sean!” Nora grabbed his shoulders. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about him. He’s so stupid, isn’t he, Mom? As if you would ever like
a guy like him.”
He wheeled around and faced Logan. His hands were fists. His face was twisted
and furious.
“She would never like you. Never. You know why? Because my mom loves my dad. She
has never loved anybody but my dad, and she never will.”
CHAPTER TEN
“LOGAN, ARE YOU BUSY?”
The question, posed by an earnest-faced Todd Givens, Two Wings’s most
experienced teen volunteer, was so ridiculous Logan had to smile.
With the open house coming a week from today, everyone at Two Wings was run
ragged. The sound of hammering rang from dawn to dusk. In the offices, you waded
ankle-deep in paperwork. In the clinic, you fed the birds nonstop, in an
assembly line.
Logan measured out his day in five-minute increments. Five minutes to accept
delivery of merchandise for the gift shop, all of which would have to be
inventoried, stickered and displayed later. Five minutes to check the volunteer
schedule, return phone calls, file vendor orders, arrange publicity, repair
fuses, replace hoses, plant bushes, plug leaks.
Now he was heading across the east field—five minutes to meet the city inspector
at the amphitheater.
And of course, somewhere in all this, they still had the birds. More birds than
ever. For some perverse reason, every raptor in this part of Texas seemed to
have suddenly turned kamikaze, diving into power lines and sailing into
glass-sided buildings.
And they all ended up here. The only person working harder than Logan was Denver
Lynch, the vet.
So yeah. Logan was busy.
“Walk with me to the amphitheater, and I can give you five minutes,” he told
Todd. “But talk fast.”
“Okay.” The boy seemed unusually somber. He was a smart, responsible kid, but he
was also a jokester who kept everyone laughing while they worked. Seeing his
face so solemn was strange.
Logan had thought things might settle down a little, now that Sean was gone. The
teens had grumbled constantly about what a nuisance the boy was. But oddly, in
the two days since Sean’s departure, the mood among the volunteers had been
gloomy.
Logan could relate. However perverse it might be, he, too, missed the obnoxious
brat. It had been magic, the few times they’d been able to turn Sean’s scowl to
a smile, the few moments when his intensity had been channeled into something
productive. He was moody, but he was also passionate, curious, hungry to learn.
Ten times in the past two days, Logan had picked up the phone to call Nora and
see if Sean was all right. Ten times he’d resisted the urge.
Only one word accurately described the attitude he’d started to take toward
Sean.
And it was a word he didn’t use.
Paternal.
“So what’s up, Todd?”
“Well, two things,” Todd started awkwardly. “First, I wanted to give you Sean’s
backpack.”
Logan glanced down at the small navy blue lump Todd held toward him. “His
backpack?”
“Yeah. He left it in the break room. I figured you could get it back to him.”
Logan took it and slung it over his shoulder. “And the second thing?”
“Um.” Todd’s pace slowed down. “Well, it’s about Sean, too.”
Logan checked the time. He still had four minutes, and they were at the peak of
the little hill. He could see the amphitheater, nestled in the small basin of
land below them, and the inspector hadn’t yet arrived.
He stopped walking. Todd stopped, too, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Okay,” Logan said. “What is it?”
“It’s…well, it’s kind of awkward….” He stopped again.
This attitude was darn odd, and gave Logan an uncomfortable premonition of
trouble. Todd was witty and confident, well aware of his natural talents.
Timid was not Todd Givens’s natural state.
Logan tapped his watch. “Tick, tock,” he said.
“I know. It’s just that…I’ve been thinking about what Sean said, you know, the
day he got so mad and locked himself in the clinic.” Todd’s rugged cheekbones
flushed slightly. “You know. About you and…you and his dad.”
Logan nodded slowly. No wonder Todd was blushing. It wasn’t what Sean had said
about Logan and Harrison that had made its way like wildfire through the
grapevine.
It was what Sean had said about Logan and Nora.
Logan nodded. “What about it?”
Todd focused on the ground, kicking his heel into the grass. “It’s just that…”
He finally looked at Logan. “I think I know why he said that. I think it was
because of me.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “You?”
“Yeah. I think he heard me talking to Matt. I mean, we were joking around, you
know, being stupid. Matt was bitch—complaining about Sean, about how the kid was
so stuck on himself. And I said…”
He paused and gazed into the middle distance awkwardly, still nudging the grass
with his heel. “Remember, I didn’t know he could hear me. But I said there was
no way you would have let Sean work here in the first place if his mom hadn’t
been so hot. I kind of said that you wanted to…you know…get with her.”
Get with her?
With effort, Logan kept his groan on the inside, but…
Damn it.
He knew what teenage boys were like then they were alone. Their language was
foul, and their conversations focused exclusively on sex. Get with her? Logan
would lay money that wasn’t the expression Todd had used.
“Are you sure Sean heard you?”
Todd nodded, clearly in abject misery now, as if he’d finally reached the hard
part.
Good grief. Could this story possibly get any worse?
“How do you know he heard you?”
“I guess he’d been on the other side of the owl enclosure. You know how he is
about those owls. He came out of nowhere, and he came out swinging.”
“He hit you?”
“Well, he tried. Matt held him off with one hand. He’s just a puny little kid,
you know, so it wasn’t a big deal. But then Matt said something like, why didn’t
Sean just go away. Why didn’t he go get his dad’s gun and shoot something.”
Logan’s insides ran cold. “Ah, hell. Todd.”
“I know.” Todd dug his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Logan. Matt didn’t
want me to tell you. He said you’d be pissed. But I don’t know. It didn’t seem
right, Sean getting all the grief, when we were at least partly responsible.”

WHEN NORA LOOKED AT THE calendar, she couldn’t quite believe it had been merely
two days since Sean had been banished from the sanctuary.
It felt like forever.
She didn’t blame Logan for his decision. She knew it was the only choice he
could make, really. His permits for handling and rehabbing the birds depended on
his maintaining a professional, safe environment. He had to protect the
wildlife, and his other workers, too.
Plus, Sean needed to learn that actions had consequences. If people continued to
excuse his behavior because they felt sorry for him, he’d start believing he
could get away with…
Her fingers trembled, and she put down the calendar she’d been holding. She’d
been about to say he’d think he could get away with murder.
Just as his father had.
She leaned back against the spindles of the Boston rocker and shut her eyes,
trying to calm her pulse. Ordinarily her delft-blue reading room was her
favorite spot in the hacienda. From its window she could see the whole bricked
courtyard, and enjoy its transformation from season to season.
Right now, the courtyard was glorious with spring. The bougainvillea that had
been trained over the arches was rich with purple blooms, and the pink hibiscus
along the wall had flowers as big as dinner plates.
The comfy little reading nook had originally been intended as a dressing room
carved out between his-her boudoirs of the patron and his wife. But Nora had
claimed the space immediately after her marriage and moved the master bedroom
down the hall. As the boys arrived, she’d arranged their bedrooms on either side
of her bookshelf-lined haven.
It was perfect. While Harrison was alive, she’d been able to sit quietly and
read every night, insulated from the rancher “boys” who came to visit Harrison
and feast on Milly’s food.
Nora had nothing in common with those well-fed, self-important, middle-aged
millionaires. They could talk all night about cattle and politics, and the
politics of cattle.
She always made her obligatory appearance at dinner, where she did her best to
impersonate an adoring trophy wife, although she knew she looked more like a
stray kitten Harrison had picked up in an alley somewhere.
Still, she was twenty-five years younger than her husband, and that apparently
was trophy enough. The men complimented her, held out her chair and called her
“sweetheart,” then winked an indulgent goodbye when she excused herself to
“check on the boys.”
She loved the proximity to Sean and Harry. They were so used to her quiet
presence that they often forgot she was here, and she overheard a million
adorable, foolish conversations that went straight into the lockbox of her
heart.
Tonight, Sean was supposed to be practicing the guitar, but his plunking sounded
like a halfhearted dirge. Harry had come in to listen, and of course pretty soon
they were doing a lot more talking than practicing.
She’d almost drifted off when she heard Harry mention Two Wings.
“I think Mr. Logan would let you come back, Sean. If you went over there and
told him you were sorry.”
Sean made a disgusted sound. “No way.”
“Why not?” Harry must have reached out to touch the guitar, because it let out a
sudden cascade of notes in the key of horrible.
“Don’t touch that, dork.” The guitar fell silent, and then Nora heard the sound
of Harry tapping something, beating out an intricate rhythm. She was going to
have to get him a set of drums, she could tell.
“You’re going to break my picks,” Sean said querulously. And then the tapping
stopped.
But Harry didn’t seem chastened. He started humming, and then the springs of the
bed began to squeak. Nora smiled to herself, picturing the little boy standing
on the bed, bopping unabashedly to his own music.
Harry’s good humor was like an endless crystal spring, hidden deep inside him.
She wished he could share some of it with Sean right now. She’d even be glad to
borrow a little herself.
“So,” Harry said raggedly, one word for each bounce, “why not?”
“Because. You should have seen how mad Logan was. I’m lucky he didn’t call the
cops.”
“The cops?” The squeaking continued, and Harry’s words still came out jerky.
“That would have been exciting. Don’t you think?”
“No.” Sean’s surly syllable was muffled, as if he had his face in the pillow.
“But you would have been like…like a desperado.”
“I wasn’t a desperado, genius. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t cool at all. It
was scary. Everyone was really, really mad.”
Harry’s bouncing stopped. When he spoke, his voice was humble. “You were scared,
Sean?”
“Yeah, I was scared. It was like…you know when you do something without really
thinking, and then you realize there’s no way out? You’re stuck?”
Harry was silent a minute. “You mean like when you stand in line to ride the
roller coaster? And then you don’t really want to go, but there are people
behind you?”
Nora expected Sean to laugh at the little boy’s struggle to put the deed into a
five-year-old’s context. But to her surprise, Sean didn’t so much as snigger.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “Yeah, kind of like that. Only worse, because people aren’t
just thinking you’re a baby. They’re thinking you’re a bad person.”
“You’re not a bad person!” Harry sounded highly indignant.
“I know. But I did a bad thing. A really bad thing.”
“Yeah, but remember? Mom said Daddy did a bad thing, but that didn’t make him a
bad man. Remember?”
Nora’s fingers tightened on the arms of the rocker.
“Yeah, I remember,” Sean said dismissively. “But that’s because she loves him.
Most people think Daddy was super bad. Don’t people say stuff to you about him?”
“Stuff like what?”
“Bad stuff. Mean stuff.”
“No.” Harry sounded bewildered. “My friends are nice.”
“Well, mine aren’t.”
Nora closed her eyes. Harrison would be devastated to know he’d brought his
little boy so much pain.
As she was.
But what was done was done. Fate had dealt them a rotten hand. It did that to
lots of people. The challenge was to survive. The challenge was to piece
together a happy life anyhow.
The boys were very quiet for a while. She thought about going in and seeing if
they’d talk to her, but Sean had just revealed more to his little brother in two
minutes than he’d said to her in the past two days.
She’d tried to work through it with him, right after they’d gotten home from Two
Wings. She’d very carefully explained that he had nothing to worry about. She
had loved their father, and she loved Sean and Harry. She always would. Nothing,
ever, would change that. They would always be the most important people in the
world to her.
And she’d also assured him Logan had definitely not had any ulterior motives for
letting Sean work at Two Wings. Logan needed help, and Sean owed him for
damages. Logan had been impressed with the way Sean handled himself the night he
came to retrieve his bird.
It was as simple as that.
She wasn’t going to add a punishment, she said. She knew that being banished
from Two Wings was punishment enough. His dark, pain-filled eyes had confirmed
the truth of that, but he’d spoken hardly a word.
The next day, she’d taken him to the therapist, and when the hour was up the
doctor had assured her Sean was remorseful about what he’d done, and he seemed
to understand that it was wrong. To the therapist, those seemed to be the cogent
points.
But Nora still hoped Sean would find a way to talk it out. So she waited, hoping
Harry’s open heart, and the trust between the brothers, would make her elder son
feel safe enough to share his feelings.
Harry wasn’t a fan of silence. After a couple of minutes, he began to hum again.
And then, out of nowhere, he cried out triumphantly, “I got it! Dickey Barnes!”
“Dickey Barnes,” Sean mumbled sleepily, “is a dork.”
“No, he’s not,” Harry said, ever loyal to his kindergarten pals. “But anyhow,
Dickey has an older brother.”
“Who is also a dork.”
“Yeah. Gil’s mean. He’s always in trouble. Dickey’s dad wasn’t going to let Gil
drive the car anymore, but he signed a contract, so now he can.”
“What kind of contract?” Sean’s voice sounded slightly more awake.
“You know. A list of the stuff he’ll do. I promise to take out the garbage every
day. I promise not to say s-h-i-t in front of my mom. I promise not to call
Dickey a turd. Stuff like that.”
For flourish, Harry strummed the guitar again, apparently forgetting he wasn’t
allowed. When Sean didn’t protest, Nora knew he must be deep in thought.
Her throat tightened. Should she stop this right now? She knew how unlikely it
was that Logan would ever change his mind about Sean.
Gil Barnes had been granted a driving reprieve, not because of the contract, but
because his parents adored him. Parents tried to find an answer. Parents seized
on any chance to forgive and say yes, and make their children smile again.
But Logan wasn’t Sean’s dad.
And he’d made it clear he didn’t want to be.
So writing a contract wouldn’t open the doors of Two Wings, which was of course
what Sean was hoping. He desperately wanted to see the birds again. The owlet
Hank, especially.
But maybe she should let him write the contract anyhow. It would be good for
him. He’d have to think it through. He’d have to articulate exactly what he’d
done wrong. He’d have to analyze his behavior, his attitude, his tones, and
identify which specific ones had gotten him into trouble.
And then he’d have to build a detailed picture of the boy he wanted to be.
“Yeah, we should definitely make a contract for you,” Harry said happily, well
aware that this would buy him more precious time in his big brother’s hallowed
presence. “Promise Mr. Logan that you’ll do everything right, and you won’t do
anything wrong.”
Nora heard Sean’s desk drawer slide open, and the clatter of someone rummaging
for a pen.
“Okay,” Sean said. “I guess I’ll try it. How long is Gil’s contract, do you
know?”
“Long,” Harry said dramatically. “Maybe three pages. But he didn’t do anything
crazy, like kidnap birds. So yours should probably be like…ten.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS SOON AS HE REALIZED he was dying, Harrison had set Bull’s Eye up to
practically run itself. He knew Nora had no interest in, or talent for, the
ranching business. She’d never pretended otherwise. She found the cattle end of
it sad, and the quarter horses intimidating.
It was one of the failings that disgusted Evelyn most, because, if Harrison had
left the ranch to his sister, she would have delighted in every trivial detail
of the daily decisions.
Even so, Nora still had to get together with bankers, lawyers, foremen and
accountants occasionally. She hoped that, if word got out she was having lunch
with Jim Stilling, the Archer family attorney, Evelyn would assume it was just
one of those boring meetings.
In reality, this early Monday lunch was Nora’s first legal consultation to
prepare for any possible custody battle to come.
Jim didn’t specialize in custody issues, but he was one of the few lawyers in
Eastcreek she thought she could trust.
It might sound paranoid, but the Archer/Gellner names carried a lot of weight
around here. And not just because lineage and acreage were worshipped in Texas.
Half the lawyers and judges and police officers in Eastcreek had gone to college
on scholarships from the Archer Foundation or the Gellner Family Charitable
Trust.
Not many of them would risk standing across a courtroom from a hostile Evelyn
Archer Gellner.
The lunch on the sunny, flowered patio of Aunt Violet’s Veranda—one of Nora’s
favorite local restaurants—had gone well. Jim was smart and low-key, and
entirely on her side. His father had been Harrison’s lawyer for decades, and Jim
had taken over shortly after Paul died. So he’d been on scene when Harrison
married Nora. He’d written the prenup she’d been happy to sign.
A prenup that Harrison had emphatically ignored in his will.
Jim Stilling understood, better than most, how completely Harrison had trusted
Nora. He knew what Harrison’s wishes had been about the boys, too.
“I don’t think you’ll have any real trouble,” he said as they stood to leave.
“But I’ll ask around for some names just in case. Maybe someone in Austin.”
She smiled. “Yes, someone who hasn’t ever heard of Eastcreek, if possible. I
like to be sure where their allegiance lies.” She tucked her hand under his
elbow as they moved through the tables and hanging baskets of plants. “She won’t
do it, will she, Jim?”
“She would be foolish if she did,” Jim said. “She’d have to demonstrate that you
were unfit. And I can’t imagine anything harder to prove than that.”
“Even if Sean—”
“Even if Sean is being a jackass,” he said firmly.
Over lunch, she had told him all about Sean’s moods, as well as his problems at
Two Wings. Evelyn would hear about Sean’s commandeering the clinic, sooner or
later, and Nora knew what spin Sean’s angry aunt would put on it.
“You haven’t neglected him, or put him in danger.” Jim squeezed her hand
briefly, a show of support she appreciated. “That’s what matters.”
“Yes, but Evelyn absolutely hates the idea that he’s been working at Two Wings.
Her attitude toward Logan Cathcart is—”
“Is downright nasty.” Jim nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it,
unfortunately.”
Even Jim had heard? Nora dodged a rabbit-ear fern that had been hung too low. Of
course even Jim, she answered herself. The Stillings were as Old Texas as the
Archers. “What did you hear?”
“She thinks you’re having a torrid affair with Cathcart,” Jim said blandly. He
held open the swinging white wrought-iron gate to let her pass through. “Are
you?”
She laughed, caught totally by surprise. “Well, that’s blunt,” she said.
He shrugged. “Lawyers ask questions. It’s the best way to get information,
actually. Infinitely preferable to second-hand gossip.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not. Why? Would it give Evelyn ammunition against me if I
were?”
“Nope. Not unless you were going at it right in front of the boys, or while you
were cracked out on drugs. Even widows are allowed to have sex, Nora, here in
the twenty-first century.”
“I know,” she said. But she was aware that she didn’t sound convinced. Because
she wasn’t. She could easily see how a judge might be persuaded that a lover was
distracting, stealing Nora’s attention, making her careless with the kids.
Or that her divided affections would be disturbing two children who were already
desperately insecure.
“The reason I asked, actually,” Jim said in a low voice, “is that we’re about
to—” He broke off, and held out his hand. “Cathcart! Nice to see you.”
As the two men shook hands, Nora flushed and tried to smile normally. How could
she have missed Logan, standing there by his truck?
“Hi, Nora,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I’m glad to run into you. I
need to return Sean’s backpack.”
She accepted his hand, though she had a feeling her palms were damp.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly.
“Sorry, guys, but do you mind if I take off?” Jim put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve got a hearing in half an hour, and you know what a stickler Judge Corrigan
is.”
She couldn’t tell if Jim was making the whole hearing thing up. He certainly
hadn’t mentioned it before. But she couldn’t very well protest. They’d met up at
the restaurant, so they each had their own cars.
“Sure, that’s fine.” She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the advice.”
After a few more polite words, she and Logan were alone. While she searched for
something appropriate to say, he opened the passenger door, pulled Sean’s navy
backpack out and handed it to her.
“Apparently Sean left this in the break room,” he said. “I thought about
bringing it by the ranch, but—”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. No problem. He has another one, and he didn’t even
mention this one was missing.” She hugged the backpack to her chest nervously.
She was talking too much, saying nothing. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”
He shut the car door. Then he leaned against the hood, and shoved his hands in
his pockets. He looked edgy, as if he needed to say something he didn’t want to
say.
She thought she knew what it was, and she tried to spare him the discomfort.
“Logan, I want to apologize again for Sean. The clinic—and the things he said. I
don’t know what got into him. He’s—”
“I do.”
She broke off, frowning. “You do what?”
“I know what got into him. Todd Givens brought the backpack to me yesterday, but
that was just an excuse to talk privately. He wanted to confess that he and his
buddy Matt were the ones who got Sean so stirred up.”
“Todd?” She could hardly believe it. He seemed like a nice kid, and he was
terrific with the birds. Sean had a mild case of hero-worship for the older boy,
and wanted desperately to learn his secrets.
“How? What on earth could they have done?”
“I gather they are the ones who put the idea in Sean’s head about…about us. They
made some comments, and apparently Sean overheard them.”
“Oh, God.”
“I know.” Logan gave her a half smile. “Makes more sense now, right? No boy is
going to sit idly by while people talk trash about his mom.”
She shook her head. “Not in Texas, anyhow.”
“Not anywhere. I don’t think I would have blamed Sean one bit if he’d beaten the
tar out of Todd. Unfortunately, he’s not big enough to do that, so…”
She took a moment to digest the news. She was embarrassed, of course. She
wondered what the teenagers had seen—what vibes they’d sensed—that made them say
such things. Was she that transparent? Could everyone tell she was a lonely,
frustrated widow hankering after the cute guy next door?
The sad truth was, she’d been lonely and frustrated for years before she’d
become a widow. Had everyone been able to see that, too?
“But still,” she said, trying to view the situation objectively, “what Sean did
was wrong. Even if he was upset, locking himself in the clinic was just plain
dangerous.”
“True.” Logan nodded ruefully. He took a breath, as if to say something, then
hesitated.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you can’t let him come back. I really do
understand.”
“No, I can’t,” he agreed ruefully. “I can’t risk letting him work with the
birds. I was flirting with danger anyhow, because we don’t ever take volunteers
younger than eighteen.”
“I know.”
Her heart ached for Sean, but, if she were completely honest, she’d have to
admit some of the pain was her own. She had loved working at Two Wings. Over the
past few days, she’d still been providing design help and creating lesson plans,
but it was done by e-mail now. She sent files to Vic Downing, who forwarded them
to Logan for approval, then sent them back to her.
All neatly sanitized, impersonal. A contribution, but one stripped of all the
teeming, chaotic life of the sanctuary itself.
Of course, there was no point in trying to kid anyone. Mostly she missed Logan.
But she also missed the urgency, the rush to bring everything together in time
for the grand opening. She missed being outside, getting dirty. The birds
crying, the wind in the trees.
She missed the sense of purpose. The struggle to preserve life, even when it was
a struggle lost, felt real in a way nothing in her life ever had.
Except the boys.
Which was why she had to do right by them, at any cost. Theirs were the lives
that had been entrusted to her. She had to protect them from whatever threatened
their happiness.
Even if the threat came from her own heart.
Logan chewed a minute on the inside of his lip. Then he took a breath. “Do you
think he’d be willing to work in the gift shop?”
She wasn’t sure how to respond. Could he really be serious?
“Of course he would. Would you be willing to have him?”
“Maybe. But think about it. It might actually be even more difficult, being so
close, but not being allowed to work with the birds.”
“Yes, that would be hard.”
Almost as hard, she thought, as it would be for her to work next to Logan and
know that he would never kiss her again. But she’d endure that a million times
over, rather than never see him at all.
“He wants so desperately to be forgiven, Logan. For that, he’d do anything.” She
smiled. “In fact, Sean and Harry have created a contract, listing all the things
he’ll do differently, if only you’ll let him come back. There’s a list of words
he won’t say. Tones he won’t take. And he says he’ll do anything. Sell tickets,
or answer the phone, or clean the sinks.”
“Clean the sinks?”
“Yeah.” She wished she had a copy of the foolish document with her. She could
never capture its poignant sincerity in her description. “Harry insisted that
offering to clean the toilets sounded more humble, but Sean decided to write
down sinks instead. That way, he said, he could raise his offer to include the
toilets later, if he needed to.”
Logan laughed. “A tough little negotiator. Sounds like Harrison trying to talk
me into selling the land. He sure is a chip off the old block, isn’t he?”
She sobered instantly.
“In some ways, he is,” she acknowledged. “But that’s not a bad thing, Logan.
Harrison was a loyal, loving man.”
Logan nodded slowly. “I know.”
He gave her a searching look that made the butterflies begin to beat their
wings. His gaze swept over her face, down her body and back again to her eyes.
“But let’s be honest with each other, Nora. If I let Sean come back, it won’t be
because of his dad. It will be because he’s also very much his mother’s son.”

THAT FRIDAY, ON THE FINAL afternoon before the open house, Logan stopped in at
the gift shop on his way to the sanctuary. Rachel had asked him to grab Nora,
who had been there since about three, helping Sean.
Logan stretched his shoulders, wishing he had time to swallow an aspirin. He
couldn’t believe it was only six o’clock. It felt like midnight. He’d spent
hours in the sun, first decorating the amphitheater, then training the newly
graduated docents.
He’d spent half the afternoon grilling them to be sure they knew the correct
answers to the questions visitors were likely to ask. During the open house, one
docent would be stationed at each different raptor enclosure, and needed to be
an expert on that bird.
Some of them were; some definitely weren’t.
But he couldn’t shovel any more knowledge into their tired brains now. He’d
finally set them free, much to everyone’s relief.
He let himself in through the storage area at the back of the shop. “Nora?”
There was no answer. He wondered if she’d left early. Had there been an
emergency at home? But she wouldn’t have left without telling him. She knew how
much he needed every single man-hour.
In fact, he wasn’t sure how he would have managed if he hadn’t relented about
Sean. Since he’d come back Monday afternoon, chastened and pink-cheeked, the kid
had been true to every word of his crazy contract. He’d worked like a soldier,
getting the gift shop ready almost single-handedly. He’d obeyed every edict, and
he’d never said a disrespectful word.
Logan moved through the boxes and cartons into the store proper. It looked
great, with stuffed toys piled in every nook, puppets dangling from the ceiling,
and a whole reading corner for the little ones, complete with chairs shaped like
flamingos.
“Nora? You here?”
But the only person in the shop was Sean. The boy was perched on the window
seat, carefully affixing price stickers to a five-hundred-count carton of tiny
plastic frogs, ladybugs and lizards. Though it was clearly a mind-numbing task,
he seemed content.
He wore his iPod’s earphones and sang softly along to his music. Occasionally
his bony shoulders twitched, as if he’d like to get up and dance.
Watching the boy, Logan instinctively froze in place, as he might have done if
he’d come upon a heron in the wild. He didn’t want to make a move or utter a
sound that would disturb the natural grace and innocence of the scene.
Without warning, Sean lifted one of the lizards high in the air, and his voice
grew louder.
He sang out emphatically, grinding out the words with a macho rumble, and
wiggling the lizard as if it were the leader of a rock band.
Just then, movement outside the window distracted the boy. The singing ceased,
as if someone had flipped a switch. He dropped the lizard into the “done” box
and climbed onto his knees to see what was going on.
Logan looked, too. Denver Lynch was arriving, returning one of the peregrine
falcons who had just recovered from surgery. Nora, who must have been waiting
outside the gift shop door, hurried over to help. Todd loped out, too, coming
across the boardwalk from the sanctuary. Together they began unloading the
falcon’s crate.
Sean leaned forward, his hands gripping the marble sill so hard his knuckles
turned white. He watched every move, transfixed. The yearning was so intense
Logan could almost feel it in his own chest. He wondered if Sean might sneak
out, just this once, just to catch a glimpse of the falcon.
But he didn’t. As Denver, Todd and Nora began to move beyond his vision, Sean
reached up and touched his fingertips to the glass.
When they were gone, he knelt there another long minute, staring helplessly at
the empty parking lot. Then, slowly, as if he had to force himself to do it, he
returned to his box of toys and his endless stack of stickers.
His face was stoic. His fingers were as careful as ever, applying stickers one
after the other.
But the singing had died.
Logan inhaled, shocked by the rush of feeling that swept through him. It wasn’t
pity, exactly. And it was more than respect, though he felt that, too.
No, when he looked at this odd little boy, with those messy red curls shining in
the sunlight, and that tiger heart pounding in his scrawny chest, Logan felt
something more like…tenderness.
For a minute, he couldn’t breathe. He turned and left the shop.
God help him. Was he crazy? He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do.
The one thing he hadn’t even thought he was capable of doing anymore.
He had let himself start to care.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“LOGAN, I’M SORRY we’re late.” As a soft hand was placed on his back, Logan
turned. He was still holding the feeding puppets he’d been demonstrating for a
group of Girl Scouts, the last official group tour of the open house.
The hand belonged to Susannah Maxwell, a young peach grower who had been one of
the first people in Eastcreek’s power structure to actually make him feel
welcome.
May was an intense month in her season, so he hadn’t been sure she’d be able to
show up. Plus, she was about fifteen months pregnant.
He made a stab at hugging her, a gesture that had become almost impossible, then
laughed. “I’m glad you’re here, but are you sure it’s safe for you to be this
far from an obstetrician?”
“I’m fine,” she said, laying her hands comfortably across the conspicuous swell.
“I told the baby he had to wait till after the open house.”
“You told the baby?” Trent, her husband, laughed. He wrapped his arms around her
from behind and nuzzled her neck.
It was the only way to get truly close to a woman nine months pregnant. Logan
remembered doing it with Rebecca.
He was surprised to realize that, for the first time, the memory didn’t come
paired with its usual wrench of anger.
Guess he didn’t have the time—or the inclination—to resent the past today.
Today, the future held all the power.
“So I guess you’ve hatched a lot of bird babies around here, Cathcart,” Trent
said with a grin that proclaimed him the happiest man in Eastcreek. “Think you
can handle a human baby, if it turns out Susannah doesn’t control the universe
after all?”
“I told you, I’m not going into labor tonight!” Susannah tilted her head to
allow Trent free access to every inch of her throat. “I asked him to wait, and
he’s going to be a very good, patient little baby. The complete opposite of his
daddy.”
“And his mommy.” Trent nipped at Susannah’s shoulder, chuckling. “I’m not sure
patience is going to be in this kid’s DNA package, sweetheart.”
Sean came trotting up then, holding his little brother, Harry, by the hand.
“Logan, the band’s ready to start playing, and Mom says she’s through face
painting.”
Logan glanced at the western horizon, surprised to see that the sky was orange
behind the black silhouettes of the trees. Nora had been painting owls and
eagles on the cheeks of school kids all day, but the tours and education part of
the open house officially ended at sundown.
Now the feasting, dancing and well-deserved fun could begin. As soon as Logan
said the magic words.
“Thanks,” he said. “Tell your mom I’ll—”
And then he noticed that Sean’s face had gone as red as the western sky. He
frowned. “Everything okay?”
Trent, apparently, had realized Sean’s problem faster than Logan did. That made
sense, of course, because Trent was Sean’s problem.
Watching the boy’s shoulders stiffen, Logan winced, remembering suddenly that
Trent Maxwell was the man Sean’s father had wanted to kill.
“Hi, Sean,” Trent said in a tone so close to normal that Logan had to give him
acting points. “Hey, Harry. How’s your mom?”
“Hi, Mr. Maxwell,” Harry said merrily. Harry probably didn’t even remember the
day Sean had found Harrison down at Green Fern Pond, crazed with grief about his
dead son, oblivious to the living, breathing sons who still needed him.
“Mom’s okay.” Harry babbled on merrily. “She’s talking to Aunt Evelyn about
getting a job. Aunt Evelyn doesn’t want her to.” He pointed to his cheek. “She
gave me a pennygreen falcon.”
“Peregrine falcon,” Sean corrected through tight lips, obviously squeezing
Harry’s hand to get him to shut up.
He flicked a quick, inscrutable glance toward Trent, then turned to Logan. “We
should probably get back. But Mom thinks you should come say something to
everyone so they can start dancing. They have a microphone for you, up by the
band.”
“Okay. Tell her I’ll be right there.”
“It was good to see you guys,” Trent said, giving Sean a smile with some extra
warmth in it. “You know, Sean, I wanted to talk to you anyhow.”
Sean frowned. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to need a lot of help at Everly this summer, when the
peaches come in. Sue and I were wondering whether you have any time you could
spare to help at one of the roadside stands.”
“You want me to work at Everly?” Sean sounded incredulous.
Trent lifted one shoulder. “Well, only if you want to. Logan told us what a hard
worker you are, and that’s exactly the kind of help we need.”
Sean clearly wanted to look at Logan, to see if it could possibly be true that
he’d been given a good report. But he wouldn’t let himself. He kept his head
frozen, his frown in place.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll have to ask my mom.”
“Sure.” Trent accepted the answer with a laid-back ease. “That’s cool. Just let
me know.”
The boys blended back into the crowd milling about on the amphitheater stage.
Logan watched them until they were swallowed up by the taller adults.
“I should probably get this show on the road,” he said to Trent and Susannah,
who were also watching the little boys walk away.
“I hope it was okay to say you’d spoken well of him,” Trent said cautiously.
“How is he working out? I talk to Nora now and then, and it sounds rough.”
“There are some bad days,” Logan said, as honestly as he could. “But there are
also some good days. He’s a solid kid, under it all. I’m hoping that’ll be
enough to see him through.”
“And his mother adores him,” Susannah added. She rubbed her belly thoughtfully.
“That’s got to help.”
“Yes.” Logan understood that Nora’s unflinching love was like a raft, keeping
Sean afloat whether he knew it or not. “Nora never gives up on him. She’s a
pretty amazing woman.”
He saw Trent and Susannah exchange a knowing glance, and he laughed. “I meant
she’s an amazing mother.”
“Of course you did.” Trent smiled smoothly. “Come on, I want to dance with my
wife, so let’s get that band going.”
The amphitheater was party central. The high school jazz band was set up in the
pit just below the amphitheater stage, prepared with an evening’s worth of
wildlife songs, everything from “Bye Bye Birdie” to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
The hors d’oeuvres, donated by a local caterer, were laid out on long, white
tables. The dancing would take place on the stage.
The place looked terrific. Volunteers had strung paper lanterns and white
Christmas lights everywhere, including the branches of the nearby trees.
The turnout from the community was amazing. Logan saw just about everyone he
knew—and quite a few new faces, too—milling about on the stage.
His eyes kept scanning until he found Nora. She was, as the boys had reported,
standing with Evelyn and a couple of Evelyn’s older friends. It didn’t seem to
be a festive gathering. Nora’s smile looked fake—funny, he thought, that he
could tell that, even from twenty feet away. And Evelyn looked downright grim.
Grimmer than usual, which was saying something.
Her friends looked on with avid curiosity as Evelyn held forth about something.
Nora needed to get out of there. He passed right by the microphone and kept
walking until he got to the cluster of women.
As he approached, he heard Evelyn talking forcefully. He couldn’t hear the
words, but it reinforced his intuition. Nora didn’t need this harridan’s
scolding tonight. Tonight was a celebration.
“Hey,” he said as he reached her side. He didn’t wait for Evelyn to finish her
sentence, which of course annoyed the hell out of the woman. Good. She stared
daggers at him, and he enjoyed ignoring them.
He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Nora all day. Suddenly he couldn’t wait. “Can
I steal you for a second, Nora? We’ve got an issue, and I need your help.”
“Of course.” She smiled politely to the women. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.”
The women had no choice but to accept their dismissal, though Evelyn obviously
resented it deeply. With her beady black eyes boring into their backs, Logan and
Nora walked off together, shoulder to shoulder, their fingers brushing lightly.
When they were a few feet away, she spoke under her breath. “There’s no issue,
is there?”
“Of course not.” He chuckled. “If you were having fun, I apologize. But
frankly…you looked like a goldfish surrounded by piranhas, and I just couldn’t
watch you get eaten alive.”
“That’s pretty much how it felt,” she admitted. She made a low rumble of
frustration. “Evelyn was about to spoil tonight for me, and that would have been
a shame. Everything has gone so well today.”
They reached the edge of the stage, where his microphone lay, waiting for him to
make the opening remarks. He didn’t pick it up. Instead he watched Nora. The
sunset tipped her curls with a golden fire, and her eyes were lit up, too.
She looked wonderful when she acted this way. He wondered if this was how she
used to be, before Harrison, before Evelyn, before she gave her life away.
“Evelyn seemed even more sour than usual. What had you done to tick her off this
time?”
Nora shrugged. “Basically, I didn’t bow to her superior wisdom.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The nerve.”
“Yeah. I know. But I—” She smiled, and began again. “About an hour ago, Jolie
Harper stopped by where I was face painting. She’s the music teacher at the
elementary school. She told me there’s an opening for the director of the band
camp this summer. She was going to do it, but something came up. She was hoping
I might be interested.”
“And are you?”
The wistful yearning in her face was answer enough, but she nodded. “I’d love
it,” she said. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. But Evelyn was there, and
unfortunately she thinks it’s a terrible idea.”
“Why? Because of Sean?”
“I guess so.” Nora shook her head. “That’s the excuse she gives, anyhow. She
actually answered for me. She told Jolie that of course I wouldn’t consider it.”
What a bitch, he thought. But he waited. Nora was clearly angry, and he had a
feeling she’d stood up for herself quite well on her own.
“And I guess that was just…too much,” she went on. “I try hard to get along with
Evelyn, really, I do. Maybe too hard. But this time, I wasn’t in the mood. So I
told Jolie I’d love to take over the camp.”
He let out a laugh.
“Way to go,” he said. “Felt good?”
She grinned sheepishly. “Felt terrific. I’ll be paying for this insubordination
for a long, long time.” She wrinkled her nose like a very naughty, very adorable
schoolgirl. “But I have to admit…it was worth it.”
He glanced back toward where they’d left the older woman. It was an unpleasant
surprise to see her still standing there, still staring at Nora with an
expression that could only be called malevolent.
He suddenly wanted to wrap Nora in his arms and protect her from the rays of
that gaze.
Actually, he had to admit, there was nothing sudden about it. He always wanted
to wrap Nora Archer in his arms.
“Nora!” Denver Lynch came rushing up to them. “I’ve been looking for you. I was
hoping you’d give me the first dance.”
Logan had to be careful not to let his reaction show on his face. But damn it.
Denver looked breathless and eager, as if dancing with Nora would be a dream
come true.
Also, dressed like this in street clothes, Denver looked like a completely
different person. Logan hadn’t ever seen him out of his veterinarian’s white
coat.
In the eighteen months he’d known Denver, Logan hadn’t once considered whether
the vet was a good-looking man. The birds didn’t care, and Logan didn’t care, so
it just hadn’t ever registered.
Until now.
Now he saw that Denver was probably what most women considered fantastic
looking. He had green eyes and blond hair, and he was playing both up
shamelessly in that green-and-gold plaid dress shirt.
Nora was smiling. She looked quickly over her shoulder, to where Evelyn still
stood. The older woman’s dark gaze had never wavered. Nora flushed, and Logan
saw her shoulders sag.
Damn it, Nora. Dance.
He wished he’d asked her first. He wished he were as rich and slick as the
irritatingly handsome vet. But as he watched her grapple with the decision, he
discovered that he didn’t care who she danced with, as long as she had some fun
tonight.
She’s just a bitter old bitch, Nora. Don’t let her scare you.
For a moment Logan thought she might lose her nerve. But then she squared her
shoulders and faced Denver Lynch with a smile that damn near knocked the man
down.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’d love to.”

AN HOUR LATER, THAT FIRST dance with Denver Lynch was the only time Nora had
said yes all night.
Whatever little gust of defiance had briefly filled her sails had died almost
immediately. Evelyn’s hostility was palpable. The woman seethed from her corner
of the stage, pulsing there like some kind of judgmental nineteenth-century
duenna. She obviously felt that Nora dishonored Harrison’s memory by dancing at
all.
Nora probably could have disregarded Evelyn, if her sister-in-law’s antiquated
ideas had been the only consideration. Evelyn had complained about Nora’s
decisions every day since Harrison’s death. The funeral was wrong, the casket
was inferior. Over the months, the clothes Nora wore were too colorful. She
laughed too loudly at public events.
A full year of formal mourning, complete with sackcloth and ashes, wouldn’t have
appeased the woman. She might have been satisfied if Nora had climbed onto her
dead husband’s funeral pyre, as some ancient cultures had dictated a widow
should do, but nothing short of total immolation would suffice.
The deeper problem tonight was that Nora didn’t really feel like dancing. She
was still too conflicted. In her heart, she, too, felt guilty that she lived,
laughed, danced…while Harrison lay dead in the ground. She didn’t have Evelyn’s
Victorian delusions about mourning, but six months was a very short time to have
been a widow.
Harrison had been much loved and was much missed—and she wouldn’t want anyone to
think otherwise.
In spite of all that…she had to be honest. If Logan had asked her, she might
have been tempted.
But he didn’t ask.
And maybe that was just as well. Sean’s outburst the other day had been
precipitated by Todd Givens’s gossip, but that cry had come from the heart.
She has never loved anybody but my dad, and she never will.
He wasn’t ready.
He wouldn’t have wanted to deny her any happiness, but children didn’t think in
those terms. He was watchful, suspicious, quick to judge.
He no longer had the blind trust a child should have. He had seen a beloved
father turn into a dangerous stranger. He had been just old enough, the day he’d
found his father with the gun, to look at the situation and decide it meant that
Harrison had loved his first, dead son better than he loved the two who had come
after.
He had been too young to understand how many different kinds of love can coexist
in the complicated labyrinth of the human heart. He still was.
So when Denver Lynch asked her to dance a second time, she turned him down. And
then she turned down Trent, and Chase, and half a dozen sweet, well-intentioned
men.
She thought about leaving early. It had been a long day—a long month of
preparation, too. The giddiness of earlier in the evening had worn off, and she
realized that she was exhausted.
So when she saw the odd man in the trench coat and a baseball cap heading toward
her, her first instinct was to turn away. He looked as though he might have been
drinking, the last thing in the world she needed tonight. He wobbled awkwardly,
as if he were on stilts.
Better to avoid the question than to offend him. Whoever it was, she didn’t know
him, and she simply didn’t want to dance.
At the last minute, though, something indefinable about the man stopped her.
She squinted, bewildered. The cap, which was far too large for the man’s head,
said Two Wings: Todd, but it definitely wasn’t Todd who wore it.
So who was it?
He came closer, and she finally could make out features. The smiling, silly,
mustached face that peeked out from under that cap belonged to…
She looked again, disbelieving.
The mustache was clearly fake, probably drawn with a fat black marker.
But the smiling, freckled face was Harry’s.
Harry? Harry was only about three feet tall. This man was more like…six feet.
Taller than she was. Almost as tall as Logan.
He lurched closer still, and she looked again. The sneakered feet below the
too-long, strangely lumpy coat belonged to Sean.
“Mrs. Archer?” Harry’s voice was pitched artificially low, as husky as a baby
bullfrog. He leaned forward, jeopardizing his big brother’s balance, and she
heard the muffled sound of Sean’s voice saying, “Be still, darn it!”
“Yes?” She smiled at the mysterious stranger, the only “man” in the world she
would never turn down.
“Umm…I’d like the honor…” Harry frowned, clearly forgetting his lines. “Mrs.
Archer, would you like to dance?”
He held out his small hands, from which the coat’s arms comically dangled.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the people closest to them slow down, then
stop dancing altogether so that they could watch. Harry kept swiveling his head
to the left, and when Nora glanced in that direction she saw Logan nodding and
gesturing, reminding Harry what to do.
Somewhere, Evelyn was probably watching, too, but Nora didn’t care about her at
all.
“I’d be honored, sir,” she said in her most ladylike voice. Harry beamed,
clearly thrilled that he hadn’t messed anything up.
The band was playing “Bye Bye Blackbird,” for the third time already tonight.
Their repertoire of animal songs was a bit limited.
But no one minded that, least of all Nora. She took Harry’s hands, and they
began to dance.
It was an ungainly waltz, never in time to the music, always on the edge of
tumbling disaster. Sean, half-blind as he tried to see between the coat buttons,
stepped on her feet a dozen times. Over and over, Harry threatened to slip from
his perch on Sean’s shoulders, and the boys would fuss at each other in loud
whispers they seemed to believe Nora was unable to hear.
Even so, it was the most beautiful dance of her life. And when it was over, as
she kissed Harry’s mustached face, then leaned down to part the trench coat and
plant another on Sean’s flushed and perspiring cheek, the watching crowd erupted
into spontaneous applause.
She knew why they clapped. Whether they were Harrison’s friends, or Nora’s, they
applauded to show that they understood how difficult the past six months had
been for this cruelly truncated family.
They clapped to say the struggle had not gone unnoticed, and they cared.
Harry, of course, was too young to comprehend any of that. He thought he was a
star, and he soaked up the attention. Bowing clumsily to his audience, he
jiggled his eyebrows and twisted his mouth into contorted shapes, trying to make
his mustache move.
“Get down, dork,” Sean grumbled. “You’re breaking my neck.”
Harry ignored the request. He fixed his bright eyes on Nora. “It’s Mr. Logan’s
coat. He drew my mustache, too. We fooled you, didn’t we, Mom? We did really
good.”
She nodded, and her eyes misted up, blurring his sweet face.
“You sure did, honey,” she said. “You did great.”

BY TEN O’CLOCK, PEOPLE started to trickle off. As Logan stood between the gift
shop and the parking lot saying his goodbyes, he was exhausted, but deeply
content.
His goal today had been to introduce Two Wings to Eastcreek, so that the
community would welcome and support the work he wanted to do.
He was pretty sure he’d succeeded. The volunteer sign-up sheet overflowed with
names, and extras had been scribbled in the margins. The donation box was packed
to the gills, with several gifts handed to him directly, as well as pledges of
many more to come.
Enthusiasm was at its peak right now, of course, and interest would undoubtedly
fade over time. But he felt confident that enough goodwill would remain to keep
the sanctuary going.
“Thank you, Logan.” Jenny Wilcox, the pastor’s wife, kissed his cheek. Her
husband waved as he lugged three bags of books and toys from the gift shop.
“Remember, I want you to talk to our Wednesday Women’s Club. Some of them
couldn’t come tonight, and they will be so disappointed when they hear how
wonderful it was.”
“You bet,” Logan said. “Any time.”
As he made similar promises to one departing guest after another, the whole
thing felt a little like a dream. Eighteen months ago, this project had seemed
so remote, ambitious to the point of insanity. How could he ever create the
income stream—no, income flood—a sanctuary needed? Just acquiring the state and
federal permits was a gauntlet of red tape and planning and keeping the permits
required gaining entrée to enough groups to satisfy his education requirements.
So much to worry about. So many hurdles to jump.
Yet somehow he’d managed to get Two Wings safely launched.
And now he wanted a nap.
He stifled a yawn as he said goodbye to Missy Snowdon, a busty young divorcée
who had pressed a generous check into the palm of his hand earlier tonight while
they were dancing.
He had a sneaking suspicion that Missy hoped she was buying a date with her
money. He’d tried to set her straight—he didn’t need cash that bad. But she
struck him as the stubborn type, like Max the hawk—creatures who willfully
ignored the bits of reality that didn’t please them.
Finally, Missy headed to her car, a hot, low-slung red convertible that screamed
desperation, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Watch out for that one,” Nora said, coming up beside him as the convertible
growled out of the parking lot. “As predators go, Missy Snowdon is definitely at
the top of the food chain.”
“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled. “Like, maybe, a broad-winged hawk?”
Nora smiled. “Exactly like a broad-winged hawk. And every man she meets is a
mouse.”
“Thanks for the warning. I promise to be careful.” He glanced around. “Where are
the boys?”
“They’re in the gift shop. I told them they could each buy any one thing they
wanted.” She groaned happily. “I must have been crazy. Harry will probably fall
in love with one of the ninety-nine-cent finger puppets, but Sean is already
considering that soapstone owl. I think it costs about five hundred dollars.”
Logan couldn’t take his eyes off her. She stood in a circle of light from one of
the quaint black carriage lamps that illuminated the sidewalk. Though she must
be nearly as tired as he was, her eyes were sparkling, and her smile was warm
and soft.
He could almost believe she was the one who cast the glow. He hadn’t ever seen
her look quite this…hopeful.
He hoped that he—or at least Two Wings—had been a part of that.
“Well, I offer a pretty good volunteer discount,” he said. “For you, I’m
thinking maybe…a hundred percent.”
She laughed. “Wow. Mr. Generosity. That check Missy Snowdon gave you must have
been huge. Be careful you don’t get tangled up in the strings she attached,
though. I hear they lead straight to her red-velvet bedroom.”
Logan started to respond with something teasing, but just then he noticed a car
pulling into the parking lot. That was odd. No one should be arriving at this
hour. The traffic was all headed in the other direction, out of the sanctuary
and into the night.
Was a parent coming to pick up a teen? A husband ferrying home his wife?
But he didn’t think so. Some sixth sense prickled as the car drew closer. Some
instinct he’d picked up from the birds, maybe, that alerted him to an
unidentified danger floating toward him on the currents of the darkness.
The car pulled into the first space. The engine stopped, the lights flicked off.
And then, two people climbed out.
He held his breath, waiting to see if anyone else emerged. But it was just the
two of them, just the tall, dark-haired man and the beautiful blonde woman.
His muscles tightened. A pulse beat in his temple.
“Oh, my God,” he said under his breath.
Nora misunderstood. “Oh, I’m just kidding with you,” she said. “Missy Snowdon
isn’t really anything to worry about. She—”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…it’s Rebecca.”
Nora peered toward the parking lot, where the arriving couple strolled easily
toward them, hand in hand.
“Who is Rebecca?”
“Rebecca is my ex-wife,” he said.
“Oh.” Nora put her hand on his arm, apparently without even realizing it. “And
that man with her. Is he…”
Logan had to laugh at his own idiocy. He should have mentioned this earlier. A
week ago. A month ago. It would have been so easy to bring it up casually, to
get the information out as if it were no big deal.
Now he’d lost his chance to pretend he didn’t care.
“That man is Benjamin Cathcart. Rebecca’s new husband.”
Nora inhaled sharply. “Cathcart?”
The couple had almost reached the sidewalk. He was going to have to pull himself
together. He’d known this day would come. He’d only moved to Texas, not the
moon, and eventually Ben and Becca were going to want to make an overture. Mend
a fence.
Heal a family.
“That’s right,” he said. “Rebecca is married to my brother.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NORA HADN’T EVEN REALIZED Logan had an ex-wife.
And now, just twenty-four hours after meeting Rebecca Cathcart for the first
time, Nora found herself sitting across the table from her, making small talk.
Or trying to.
When she’d called Logan, earlier this afternoon, ostensibly to talk about
picking up the decorations from the amphitheater but actually to see how he was
doing, he’d impulsively invited her to dinner.
She hadn’t been sure exactly what his motives were. He sounded as if he’d even
surprised himself with the words. She’d said yes because she had a feeling he
might need someone there as a buffer.
And because she wanted to see him again.
So she’d said yes, though it was a Sunday night, and she had to get an extra
babysitter, to backstop Milly, who obviously wasn’t up to the task of keeping
Sean in line…or even in the house.
“A buffer” wasn’t precisely a date, but…what was it? Nora wasn’t sure how to
dress or act. In an attack of girly insecurity she hadn’t experienced since high
school, she spent way too much time picking out her clothes. And yet, when she
arrived at Logan’s house she realized she’d made every possible mistake.
She’d chosen a floral wraparound silk dress and green sandals, which had seemed
like comfortable spring casual in her mirror at home. Here, in Logan’s simple
cottage, with its masculine simplicity, book-lined walls and half-furnished
rooms, the outfit looked prissy and ridiculous.
Rebecca Cathcart answered the door barefoot and smiling, and immediately Nora
felt embarrassingly overdone.
“Nora!” Rebecca leaned in to kiss her cheek, as if they were already friends.
“I’ve heard so much about you and your boys. Come on in. Logan and Ben are in
the kitchen, ruining dinner. I hope you’re not hungry.”
Nora wanted to hate her. She didn’t know the details of the crazy triangle, but
the basic outline was damning enough. This woman had been married to Logan, and
now she was married to his brother.
Even worse, Rebecca had been born so beautiful she had to play it down to make
it work. Her hair was long, shining and as blonde as new corn. Her eyes were
summer-sky blue, her lips full and pink, her body dramatic and graceful.
But she appeared charmingly indifferent to all that. Her hair was clipped away
from her face in an off-center twist, and if she wore makeup it was too subtle
to see. She was dressed simply but elegantly. A pair of black slacks and a royal
blue fitted cotton shirt, tail out and sleeves rolled up to the elbow.
She looked like exactly what Logan had told Nora she was: a
twenty-seven-year-old junior partner in a high-powered law firm, relaxing with
her family. Unclip the hair, throw on an Armani jacket, and Rebecca could head
straight for the courtroom, destined to win every case.
They had wandered into the kitchen, which was like the rest of the house, spare
and masculine. Few frills, but everything was practical and high quality.
Ben was an older, more urbane version of Logan. Same intense blue eyes, rugged
bone structure, thick, dark hair. Tall, broad-shouldered. A little less
reserved, a little more fluid with the small talk, but basically the same model.
It was almost too much virility and charisma for one little cottage to hold.
The meal had been less awkward than she’d feared. The couple had been in Austin,
she learned, at a legal conference. They’d decided that, since they were so
close to Eastcreek, they would stop by for a surprise visit.
Logan smiled when they described their decision, as if it were delightful to see
them. Everyone was trying very hard, she could tell, to cover over any cracks in
the family bond.
But Nora had heard the hollow horror in his voice when he first glimpsed them
and said, “Oh, my God.”
Besides, she wasn’t a fool. She knew the cracks had to be there. Chasms, in
fact.
Two brothers. One wife. No way that story didn’t involve a lot of pain.
Suddenly Nora understood why Logan had given up law. Why he’d left Maine, where,
she’d learned tonight, the Cathcarts had lived for two hundred years.
Why he preferred the company of silent, watchful birds to the company of his
fellow man.
“So you and Logan are dating?” Rebecca peeled a grape casually, as if the
question weren’t important, but her voice was pitched deliberately low. She
obviously didn’t want the men, who were energetically discussing the latest
Supreme Court nominee, to overhear.
Nora hesitated. She wasn’t sure what Logan had told them. Maybe he wanted Ben
and Rebecca to believe he had a girlfriend.
“Well,” she said, perfectly prepared to lie, if she could be certain lying was
required. At its heart, it wouldn’t even be a falsehood. If Rebecca wanted to
know whether other women desired her ex-husband, whether he had chances to love
and be loved, the answer was unequivocally yes.
Half the women in Eastcreek were a little bit in love with him. Why, last night,
even fifty-year-old happily married Jenny Wilcox had broken the bank buying
things at the gift shop, just to support his cause.
Still…
What was the right answer? She glanced at Logan, wishing she knew for sure.
“I’m sorry.” Rebecca smiled apologetically at Nora. “I can’t stop being a
lawyer, I guess. Let me rephrase. I hope you and Logan are dating. You seem very
close. It would mean a lot, to know that he was happy.”
Nora felt herself bristling. Though Rebecca’s tone had been gentle and sincere,
wasn’t it a little late for her to be worrying about Logan’s happiness? And
wasn’t it a little self-serving? If Logan had indeed found another woman to
love, did that let Rebecca off the hook? Did it absolve her of the sin of
breaking his heart?
Nora glanced again at Logan, who was laughing at something Ben had said. He
didn’t laugh as often as Ben, or chatter as easily. He wasn’t as slick or glib.
He was just slightly more real, more vulnerable, more intense.
And massively more desirable. She couldn’t imagine any woman choosing the older
brother over the younger one. But of course she didn’t know the whole story. She
probably never would, and so she had no license to judge.
She returned her gaze to Rebecca.
“Right now, Two Wings takes all the time and energy Logan has,” she said,
deciding to be honest. She couldn’t really imagine Logan lowering himself to lie
about their relationship. “And I have two children who need mine.” She smiled.
“But all the same, Two Wings has come to mean a great deal to me.”
Rebecca’s gaze was searching, sharp, as if she were calculating her chances of
eliciting anything more definitive. But, after a couple of seconds, she relaxed,
apparently satisfied with what she found in Nora’s face.
“Well, good, then,” she said finally. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
She took one last sip of her white wine. Tossing her napkin onto the table
beside her plate to show the serious talk was over, she leaned back in her chair
and smiled warmly at Nora.
“Now,” she said, “tell me all about your boys.”

“THANKS FOR TONIGHT,” Logan said as he walked Nora to her car an hour later.
“I’m really glad you were able to come.”
Actually, that was a colossal understatement. All day, he’d been dreading this
dinner. He probably would have called it off if Nora had said no.
And calling it off would have been a mistake. Because he’d learned something
very important tonight, as he sat across the table from his ex-wife and his
brother, watching them struggle with their worry and their guilt.
He’d learned that somehow, sometime over the past eighteen months, he’d found
his way out of the woods.
He was no longer even the least bit in love with Rebecca.
“I had a terrific time,” Nora said. “I’m sorry I have to leave, but I promised
the sitter I’d be back by eleven. She has school tomorrow.”
The dinner had run much longer than he’d expected. The full moon was low in the
sky, just barely clearing the treetops, and the crickets and frogs had gone
silent. Nora would have to hurry to make it home by the appointed hour.
But neither one of them picked up the pace. Her car was only a few yards away,
gleaming in the moonlight, and they clearly wanted to stretch the distance as
far as they could, prolonging their few moments alone.
“Rebecca is very nice,” Nora said hesitantly. “And your brother is charming.”
“They’re good people,” he said.
He wished he could stop there, but he knew he owed her more. He’d brought her
into this by asking her to come. “It’s been a rough adjustment for all of us,
but they’re doing the best they can. They want to move past it, so that we can
be family again.”
They had reached her car. She put her fingers on the door handle, but she didn’t
pull it open. She leaned her hip against the side of the car, and turned her
soft gaze his way.
“It’s a lot for them to ask,” she said with a staunch loyalty that was
unexpectedly soothing. “To expect you to forgive them…”
“No.” He couldn’t bask in her compassion while allowing her to unfairly demonize
Rebecca and Ben. “It wasn’t like that, Nora. There’s nothing to forgive.”
He moved a few inches closer. He had no reason to worry about privacy. Rebecca
and Ben, still inside the cottage, couldn’t see the driveway from any of the
windows. The solid stone-and-wood structure was practically soundproof. They
couldn’t hear anything spoken out here.
He had no reason. He just wanted to be close to her.
“It wasn’t Rebecca’s fault,” he said. “She tried desperately to make it work.
Our marriage failed because of me.”
“I don’t believe it.” Nora frowned. “Nothing’s that one-sided.”
He shook his head. “It’s true. I was a terrible husband. We married very young,
and everything was okay for a while. Then…we hit some serious problems.”
What a euphemism. Serious problems…
He wanted to be honest, but he just couldn’t share everything, not even with
Nora. “When things went wrong, I withdrew. Unfortunately, that’s how I’ve always
dealt with my emotions. But Rebecca was different. She…she needed someone to
talk to.”
“And that someone was your brother?”
He heard the indignation in Nora’s voice, and he had to smile. She was so angry
on his behalf, even all this time later.
So different from Logan himself. Had he ever, even once, allowed himself to
experience any normal, honest emotions about what happened?
Probably not. By the time Rebecca divorced him, four months after Danny’s death,
Logan was already numb, already deep in the denial that had been his refuge for
so long. The ache of losing her was distant, as if it were happening to someone
else.
When she and Ben had come to him, a short six weeks later, and told him they
were going to be married, he was shocked, just like everybody else.
As he sat there, watching the two people he loved most in the world pale and
begging his forgiveness, on some level he was aware that he’d been betrayed.
But it had made very little difference to him. A poet once said that after the
first death there is no other. That was true. He’d absorbed that blow, too,
without really feeling it. He’d been civilized, understanding. He’d stayed in
the firm with Ben, prepared to ride it out.
But when he learned that Rebecca was pregnant, he didn’t think, didn’t feel,
didn’t try to overcome. He’d been like an animal, programmed for fight or
flight.
He’d chosen flight. He’d packed his bags that night and moved as far away from
Maine as he could get. First to Florida for just over a year, then here.
He’d never seen his niece, Chloe. And he hoped he never would.
“Rebecca is happy with Ben,” he said. “He is perfect for her. He gives her what
she needs. And he loves her very much.”
Nora’s looked at him for a long moment. “And what about you?”
He tilted his head. “What about me?”
“Do you love her, too?”
Her voice was so somber. The cool night breeze was playing with her hair,
tickling it across her cheeks. He reached out and gently tucked it behind her
ear.
“No,” he said quietly. “Not anymore. I probably haven’t loved Rebecca for a
long, long time.”
She touched her cheek where his fingers had been. “Probably?”
“Well, that’s one of the drawbacks of closing off your emotions. Sometimes you
can’t tell the difference between ignoring your feelings and having no feelings
to ignore.”
She looked pensive, her face pale in the moonlight, her eyes dark as they
scanned his face. He had to fight the urge to touch her again. Her cheek, her
hair, her hand. Any part of her.
Every part of her.
He put his hands in his pockets.
“Which one is it with me, Logan?” Her voice was breathy, as if she couldn’t get
quite enough air. “Are you ignoring how you feel? Or is there nothing to
ignore?”
He shook his head. “Neither one. I’m lying awake at night, warring with myself.
Trying to think of an excuse to see you. Trying to stop myself from seeing you.”
“Why? Why must there be war?”
“Because we don’t want the same things. You want a husband and a father for your
boys.”
“That’s ridiculous. I have no thoughts of marrying again, and—”
“Not yet, maybe. But ultimately, that’s the only relationship you’d settle for.
Even if you would consider anything less, you are in no position to have a hot,
short-term fling, and you know it.”
“I—” She hesitated, unable to finish the protest.
“Right. You’d never do it. Damn it, Nora, you nearly lost your mind when you
thought Sean had simply seen you kissing me.”
She looked away, and he knew she recognized the truth of his words.
“You don’t want anything short of happily ever after. And that’s fine. It’s just
that I don’t believe in that fairy tale anymore. Believe me, I’ve already tried
True Love, complete with hot sex, solemn vows and—”
He broke off. He’d been about to say complete with hot sex, solemn vows and a
little blue crib.
“And it led to pure hell, for everyone involved.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BY FRIDAY, WHEN Ben and Rebecca had been in town six days, Logan had to admit
that some of the strangeness had finally worn off.
They were all probably fairly surprised that the reunion was progressing so
smoothly. Ben and Rebecca had arranged for extra time off, and Logan’s parents
had apparently been happy to keep Chloe, Ben and Rebecca’s little girl, for as
long as they were needed.
Ben and Rebecca weren’t actually sleeping at his place. The cottage was too
small for that, with only one bedroom. But they stayed close by, at a hotel in
downtown Eastcreek, and the three of them spent at least some time together
every day.
Both Ben and Rebecca seemed impressed by the sanctuary, which was a relief.
Logan knew that everyone in the family believed he’d made a terrible mistake in
giving up law. He hoped they’d spread the word back home, where his parents were
still writing weekly e-mails assuring him that his place in the firm was still
open.
He wasn’t going back to that career. He might have fled to Texas impulsively,
just trying to escape, but along the way he’d found his calling.
The sooner everyone accepted that, the better.
When they reached Friday afternoon without any uncomfortable scenes or unwelcome
heart-to-heart talks, Logan actually began to relax. Ben and Rebecca planned to
return to Maine early Saturday morning, just about twelve hours from now. This
dinner at his place would be their last get-together.
He had made it. It looked, thank God, as if they might come through this
crucible unscathed.
Really?
Showed how dumb a man could be.
He should have known better than to start congratulating himself early. Fate
loved to smack around anyone who got a little too smug.
They’d just finished a big pot of Rebecca’s famous veggie stew, Ben’s perfectly
chosen wine and Logan’s store-bought crusty rolls, when someone knocked on his
front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but his hopes took a little bounce,
anyhow. He hadn’t seen Nora or Sean all week, and he missed them more than he
liked to admit.
Maybe they missed him, too. Maybe they’d invented some excuse to visit.
He had absolutely no reason to think so, except that he wanted it to be true.
When he and Nora had parted Sunday night, it had been with the understanding
that they needed to back away. At least for a while. At least until Sean settled
down. Until the sexual tension eased up enough to let them breathe.
Still, like a fool, by the time he got to the door, he almost had himself
convinced Nora would be standing there.
He pulled it open. The welcoming smile died on his face.
It was not Nora.
It was, though it took his stunned brain a second or two to fully process it,
his parents, who should have been in Maine.
And, standing beside his mother, holding her hand, stood an adorable, sleepy
little girl. Not yet two years old, with dewy blue eyes and wispy hair as blonde
as Rebecca’s.
“Hello, son,” his father said.
“Dad?”
Logan sensed movement behind him, and realized that Ben and Rebecca had come to
the door. As he glanced over his shoulder, he realized that neither of them
looked the least bit surprised.