Friends to the End

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “I knew what you meant, Tricia. I haven’t lived under a rock, you know.”

  “Sorry,” she said, looking amused. “Anyway, Emerson might have been a lot of things, but he definitely wasn’t ever going to be my Prince Charming.”

  “Is that what you want? A prince?”

  “Actually, no. I’m not in the market for a prince. Just a nice guy whom I can trust.”

  “Surely men like that aren’t too hard to find.”

  She met his gaze before looking away. “You’re right. I do know some guys who are like that.”

  “But?”

  “But they, um, aren’t for me.”

  What did that even mean? While he pondered that statement, all while cursing himself for even getting them into this conversation, she sat down at the table across from him.

  “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Nee.”

  “Why not?”

  Because he’d been thinking too much about a certain brown-eyed girl he couldn’t have. “I guess I haven’t been ready.”

  She tore off a corner of his sandwich and popped it in her mouth. “Ready for what?”

  He blinked, almost struck dumb. While Tricia had been fantasizing about frogs and princes, he’d been dreaming about marriage. “I’m speaking of marriage, Tricia,” he said. “I’m not ready for marriage yet.”

  “Of course you aren’t. I mean, Andy isn’t ready for marriage, either. Can you imagine him in a committed relationship? He’s a mess! Why, his girlfriend would kill him.”

  Her words were true, for sure. Andy was a convoluted, complicated mess. He, on the other hand, was not. His problem revolved around not wanting to get into a relationship when someone else was on his mind. “Maybe Andy and I aren’t so different as one might imagine.”

  “I’m speaking of you courting, though. Isn’t there a girl who has struck your fancy?”

  “Not really.” No one who was suitable, anyway. He liked being Amish, and he couldn’t imagine a woman like Tricia ever giving up her comforts in order to live his chosen lifestyle.

  Feeling her gaze resting on him, he shifted. “I’m still putting in a lot of hours at the Walnut Creek Grande. Between the hotel and the farm, I don’t have much extra time. I need to have at least a couple more thousand dollars to put away before I can buy a haus, anyway.” Hoping to lighten the conversation, he winked. “I’ll wait to go courting until I’m a good catch.”

  “You already are, Logan,” she said softly. “Any woman is going to feel lucky to have you as hers.”

  “Blessed,” he corrected automatically.

  “Hmm?”

  “Not lucky. Blessed, jah?”

  Still staring at him intently, she nodded.

  Right then and there, he knew he hadn’t been imagining the pull between the two of them. And though it might be wrong and might never amount to anything, it didn’t stop the reality of it. There was a pull there. Something close and tangible and deeper than just a physical attraction or a shared history together.

  Against his will, he found himself scanning her face, reacquainting himself with the exact shade of her eyes, taking note of the spray of freckles across her cheekbones, thinking about her lips yet again. Wondering why she looked so kissable.

  Wondering why the Lord had decided that they’d needed this adventure. Wondering what he was supposed to learn from it.

  Abruptly, he got to his feet. “You know what? We should stop sitting around and get the fire going again. Then we need to take stock and see if we can heat something up over the flames.”

  “I guess I’ll go look in the kitchen again.”

  “I brought some things, too. Just in case we got into this situation.”

  “You thought we might?”

  “I hoped and prayed that we wouldn’t. But you know how that goes. Sometimes even the most fervent prayers go unanswered.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” she murmured.

  Walking over to the fireplace, Logan sighed. It was starting to feel like every word each of them said was laced with a hidden meaning.

  This adventure of theirs was going to wear him out . . . and they hadn’t talked about what they were going to do when it was time to go to sleep.

  SEVEN

  I’d lived in Walnut Creek all my life, but while Andy had always felt at home among the Amish, I never had. I was always afraid I would say and do the wrong things. All that, of course, made joining that impromptu volleyball game even harder.

  Several hours had passed since they’d talked to Andy. After the phone call, they’d made some popcorn over the fire, eaten more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and played cards. Now it was dark. They would have to get ready for bed, which made Tricia blush just thinking about it.

  They’d already decided to both sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. There really wasn’t another option; the bedrooms were freezing.

  When Logan offered to search the storage closet in the back of the second bedroom for sleeping bags, more flashlights, and batteries, Tricia opened cabinets that she’d already searched and sorted through the items in the refrigerator and freezer that she’d already memorized. She didn’t care, though. She’d happily pretend to be rummaging through the whole house for another hour if it meant that she didn’t have to look Logan directly in the eye again.

  When was she ever going to learn? Logan Clark was not interested in her. Even if they weren’t next-door neighbors, even if he weren’t her brother’s good friend, he didn’t like her that way.

  Though she knew she looked childish, she kept her back to him as he walked across the small space. She wasn’t the best at hiding her feelings. Right at this moment? It was bordering on impossible.

  “Ah, Tricia?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

  “I think it’s starting to warm up a bit.” She heard him shift uneasily. “I found some sleeping bags and other supplies, too. We can sort through them when I get back.”

  “From where?” she noticed he was putting on a thick coat and his hat again.

  “I’m going to go outside.”

  She was facing the window. Even through the darkness, she could see that the wind was blowing so hard, it looked like the snow was falling sideways. Goodness, it couldn’t be worse weather out. He must really want to take a moment away from her. “Are you sure that now is the best time to go out?”

  “I need to check on the horses and get them bedded down for the night.”

  How had she forgotten them? “Oh! Of course. Do you need help? I’ll be glad to help you carry things, maybe get them more water?”

  “Of course not. You stay in here where it’s warm.”

  “I thank you for that, but I’m not helpless. I can even put on a coat and gloves to keep warm, just like you,” she added sarcastically.

  He sighed. “Trish—”

  She cut him off. Trying to interject a happier tone, she said, “Sorry, I don’t know why I say things like that sometimes. You go ahead. I’ve just been trying to figure out what can of soup would be best to heat up.”

  “Ah.”

  She realized then that she was staring at a cabinet full of flour and sugar and other baking products. “I thought I might look to see what else we have, too.”

  “You know what? I completely forgot. When I arrived, I tossed my backpack on one of those chairs. There’s a couple of things in it. Feel free to take out the food.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  He edged toward the door. “Okay. Well, then. I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be fine.”

  He didn’t reply before walking out the door, a flashlight that he’d brought from home in his hand.

  Thankful for the bright beam of light, she stood in front of the window and watched him slowly make his way to the shed, wincing as the snow seemed to swirl around him even harder with each step he took.

  When he at last went inside, she breathed a sigh of reli
ef and turned around, resting her head against the cabinet doors. Glad to have a few moments of privacy, she closed her eyes in frustration.

  And in silent acknowledgment of what she couldn’t deny.

  Even though they were older and no doubt had little in common anymore, she still felt that same pull that she’d had back when she was ten years old and he’d smiled at her in his yard. Even though they hadn’t had more than a few meaningful conversations over the last couple of years, that awareness that she felt around him was alive and well.

  Flourishing, in fact.

  What was she doing, acting like a little girl in the midst of her first crush? Hadn’t she learned anything over the years? She really, really needed to get a handle on herself.

  Walking to the table, she opened Logan’s backpack. It was a faded army green and sported a well-known label from an outdoors company. Unable to help herself, she ran a hand over the worn fabric, thinking how the item fit him so well. Logan was Amish but not sheltered. Steadfast but not stuffy. Loyal to his traditions and values but not opposed to appreciating things outside the “typical” Amish world—such as the value of a well-made backpack.

  Opening up the main compartment, she spied a metal ring of keys, a fresh shirt and pair of socks, three plastic containers of food that his mother had probably packed, and one package of Oreos.

  Oreos! Amused, she sat down on one of the chairs and gazed at the extremely English treat. A stranger might have thought he’d brought the cookies for her, but she knew better.

  Logan Clark had a really big sweet tooth.

  Ten minutes later, the door blew open. “It’s getting mighty cold out there, Trish. I bet the temperature’s dropped another ten degrees.”

  “How are the horses?” Even that small burst of wind that had accompanied him through the door chilled her.

  He shrugged as he pulled off his gloves and coat. “Not especially pleased, but they seem to be all right.”

  “I hope it’s not too cold for them? I’d feel so bad if they got sick.”

  He chuckled. “You have such a soft heart, Tricia. They are sturdy horses, jah? They’re used to pulling buggies in the rain and sleighs in the snow. They’re dry and comfortable enough. They’re disgruntled because they ain’t home. They like their creature comforts.”

  “I guess I can relate. Though this cabin is cozy, it isn’t home. I guess that’s why I feel so out of sorts.” It was the truth, just not the complete truth. But she hoped it was close enough to excuse her earlier panic attack.

  Pulling out the chair across from her, he sat down. “You were out in the middle of nowhere with no electricity and no one to lean on. You shouldn’t feel awkward about calling your bruder and askin’ for help.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. What’s done is done.” Pushing the package of cookies to the center of the table, she smiled. “Besides, nothing can be too bad if we have Oreos, right? I can’t believe you brought these, Logan.”

  “It weren’t anything.”

  She disagreed. “But still, you stopped by the store and picked them up. That was really nice of you.”

  “I didn’t stop anywhere,” he protested. “I had them on hand.”

  Opening the package’s side, she pulled out two. “You know, it would be a shame if we didn’t eat at least a couple.”

  He picked up one. “I was just thinking the same thing. I mean, we can’t let them go to waste.” With a wink, he popped one into his mouth.

  The look of pure pleasure that lit his face made her laugh. “You are such a kid when it comes to treats, Logan Clark.”

  “I know. It’s a fault of mine, for sure. I know I should feel badly about my need for sweet treats, but I canna seem to help myself. I’m addicted.”

  After eating another three, she stood up. “Do you want anything else to eat?”

  “Nee. I’m pretty tired, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Let’s get the sleeping bags organized.”

  After closing the package, Tricia walked over to join him in the living room. Logan was standing beside the two sleeping bags, a stack of blankets, and a pile of pillows she’d taken out of one of the bedrooms while he’d been with the horses.

  Earlier, when she’d placed everything in a haphazard pile, she was thinking only about warmth and comfort.

  Now?

  It seemed all she could think about was how intimate it felt to be sleeping in even the same room as him. She cleared her throat. “How would you like to organize everything?”

  “It don’t matter to me.” He paused. “I’m guessing we should both be as close to the fire as possible. It’s gonna get even colder during the night.”

  Feeling a little silly that she was acting like such a child, she pulled out the red sleeping bag and set it down on the left side in front of the fire. Kneeling down, she loosened the cord around it. “I’ll take the left side,” she said unnecessarily. After all, where she had decided to be was obvious.

  But if Logan thought she was being amusing, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he came to her side, two thick blankets in his arms. “Let me help you.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  He ignored her. “The trick to sleeping on the ground, Trish, is a good padding.” Kneeling next to her, he placed one blanket on the ground and then carefully set her sleeping bag on top of it. Then, as she watched, he unzipped the top of the bag a few inches, turned a corner down, and placed the other blanket on top of it all. Just as if she were a child.

  “I don’t need you to do this, Logan. I’m not a little girl.”

  He popped his chin up and met her eyes. “Believe me, I know that.”

  She realized two things right then and there. The first was that Logan was just as affected by the suddenly intimate atmosphere as she was.

  And second, no matter what happened between them during the rest of their lives, she would never be able to forget the heated, almost pained expression on Logan’s face.

  He looked exactly the way she was feeling in her heart.

  EIGHT

  “Are ya going to join us or not?” Sarah, Logan’s younger sister, called out.

  I didn’t really want to. Even barefoot and wearing her pale-blue dress and white kapp, Sarah looked more athletic than I did in my shorts, T-shirt, and Keds.

  But still, I hesitated. What if I was so terrible at volleyball that I made my team lose? Sarah didn’t look like she’d take that in stride.

  “Don’t think so hard,” Logan said with a smile. “It’s just a game. Ain’t so?”

  As morning dawned and thin beams of sunlight crisscrossed the cabin’s living room, Tricia groaned. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. Had either of them slept a wink? She wasn’t sure. Even with logs burning brightly in the fireplace, the cabin had been freezing. Poor Logan had gotten up from his pallet on the floor almost hourly to tend to the logs. Every time she’d offered to help, he’d brushed it aside, whispering that she needed her rest.

  Then there had been the constant noise. Outside, the wind had howled so loud that it seemed like a pack of wolves was circling the property. Gusts of wind had brushed some pine trees’ branches against one of the cabin’s walls and windows. Almost as soon as she got used to one noise, the wind would change direction and a clatter would erupt. For a while, she’d been expecting one of those branches to break off and fly through the glass.

  But as distracting as the cold and the wind had been, neither of them held a candle to the most distracting thing of all—the fact that Logan Clark was lying down just to her right.

  Barely three feet away.

  She’d told Andy the truth. She wasn’t a sheltered child any longer. She’d spent the last two and a half years away in college and had experienced most things other college students did. She’d stayed out late and done more than a few activities that she should’ve thought twice about.

  She’d slept on floors in her girlfriends’ rooms and had studied for hours on couches in the library with other kids in
her classes. She’d even spent the night with a group of men and women during a retreat for one of the campus charities. So it wasn’t the fact that she was alone with a man that was disconcerting.

  It was that she was alone with him. With Logan.

  Everything that he did felt amplified. She’d heard every mumble or light snore. She’d been aware of every time he tossed and turned. She now knew what his face looked like when he was fast asleep and what his hair looked like first thing in the morning.

  And what his cheeks looked like when they were scruffy and in need of a shave.

  Yep, no matter how much she tried to not look at him, not notice every movement and faint mumble or grunt, she couldn’t seem to hear anything else. All of her senses were firmly focused on him. She couldn’t have pretended he wasn’t sleeping next to her in the room if she’d tried.

  The only saving grace was that Logan had seemed just as aware of her. A new tension had sprung up between them, pulling so taut that she was tempted to stop pretending to sleep. The only reason she didn’t say anything to him was because she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Around two or three in the morning, Logan had gotten up and walked to the kitchen.

  Unable to stop herself, she’d called out to him. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course, Tricia,” he replied, his voice sounding strained. “Just getting water.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you want me to bring you a glass?”

  Even half-asleep, he was so kind. “No. Thanks.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Try to go to sleep, okay?”

  “ ’Kay.” Though she’d been tempted to say something more, she didn’t. She’d been too aware of him. Too tempted to look at him too long, just so she’d remember what he looked like in the middle of the night.

  Which, of course, embarrassed her. He’d come to her rescue because his friend had asked him to, not because he particularly cared about her.

  Feeling more despondent than ever, she’d turned onto her side and closed her eyes. In the distance, she heard the faucet go on. Heard a cabinet open and shut. Imagined he was staring out the kitchen window at the storm.