Moonlight on Nightingale Way

by Samantha Young

  But the last thing Maia promised before she hung up was, “I’m going to make you like him again.”

  I was walking up the stairwell the next afternoon, having just dropped off Mr. Jenner’s shopping for him, when Logan suddenly appeared, hurrying down the stairs toward me. He halted when he saw me, his expression blank.

  And then he gave me an abrupt nod and started to move quickly past me. I turned, frowning. Although I’d known things would be uneasy between us, the reality of it was quite different. I didn’t like it. “Are you all right?” I called after him.

  He stopped again and looked back at me. “I got a call from the school. Maia is in trouble.”

  Worry whooshed through me, making me momentarily forget the awkwardness of being in Logan’s company. “What do you mean?” I started down the stairs after him.

  “Are you coming?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “It’s Maia.”

  He nodded, and I hurried out of the building after him. As we walked, he talked. “The history teacher has been accused of having an affair with a married colleague. The rumors are all over the school, and they think Maia started them.”

  Anger and disbelief coursed through me. “Oh, I think we both know who started them.” Logan met my gaze, and we stated in unison, “Layla.”

  The rest of the walk to the school was completely silent and incredibly tense. I knew Logan was furious that anyone would attempt to pin a “crime” on Maia when she wasn’t the one responsible, and I was trying to work out how I could contain his anger so he didn’t inadvertently get himself and Maia in more trouble.

  When we got to the school, the headmaster, a Mr. Bruce, almost didn’t let me in his office because I wasn’t family, but Logan did that deadpan-staring thing that intimidated a person into doing almost anything he wanted them to do. We strode inside Mr. Bruce’s office only to discover Maia sitting, pale and anxious. Beside her was a petulant Layla, and standing across from them was a redhead in her late thirties and a guy around my age. Our eyes caught and met for a moment, his expression turning from brooding to arrested as his gaze washed over me.

  “Layla’s parents can’t get out of work,” Mr. Bruce said as he followed us in and shut the door. He marched around to his desk and sat down, gesturing to us to take the other empty seats in the room. “So we shall commence. Mr. Tatum, Mrs. Rogers, this is Mr. MacLeod, Maia’s father and his erm… friend Miss Farquhar. I’ve asked you here because there is a vicious rumor circulating the school community that Mr. Tatum and Mrs. Rogers have been involved in an extramarital affair on school grounds. We all know the rumor to be a repugnant lie started by an irresponsible student. Layla has named Maia as the culprit, and as you can guess, Maia has labeled Layla the culprit. In order to satisfy some very uneasy parents, I need the student responsible to issue an apology. They will also receive a suspension. If I don’t get to the truth today, I will suspend both Layla and Maia. Am I clear?”

  I glanced at Maia, who was staring at her feet, looking like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Layla was staring at her cuticles as though bored out of her mind.

  Shifting my attention, I looked over at the two teachers in question. On closer inspection Mrs. Rogers was attractive, and Mr. Tatum definitely was. It was clear to me why shallow little Layla had chosen these two as her victims. My gaze met Mr. Tatum’s again, and I found myself directing my words to him. “I’m a good friend of the family and I know Maia well. In fact, only a few weeks ago, while she was having dinner with me, she mentioned Layla had imagined there was something going on between yourself and Mrs. Rogers. Concerned, I asked if it were true and Maia said of course not, that Layla was just bored and inventing drama. I asked Maia not to repeat the rumor, and she promised that she would not. I believed her and I still do.”

  Mr. Tatum nodded gravely at me. “I’m inclined to believe her too.” He looked at Mr. Bruce. “Layla has demonstrated inappropriate behavior around me and has been warned. I noted it and made sure management was aware of it.”

  “Maia’s behavior of late hasn’t been great though,” Mrs. Rogers added.

  “It’s been getting better again,” Mr. Tatum disagreed. “And I’ve noticed friction between the girls in my class.”

  “You’ve got it in for me, Mr. Tatum.” Layla narrowed her eyes on him.

  “Quiet,” Mr. Bruce said sternly. “Layla, were you the one who started the rumor? If you admit it, I’ll cut the length of your suspension.”

  “Layla, please,” Maia suddenly said. “Tell the truth.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “You’re such a boring bitch lately.”

  “Don’t speak to her like that,” Logan interjected, and Layla flinched at the warning in his voice. He held her gaze, his expression fierce, and it seemed someone was able to pierce that indolent arrogance of hers. She blushed and bit her lip, looking down at her feet just as Maia had done a moment ago.

  “Layla?” Mr. Bruce said.

  She refused to speak.

  He gave a weary sigh. “Then I have no recourse but to punish both girls.”

  I clamped a hand down on Logan’s arm, anticipating his reaction. Putting pressure on his arm, I forced him to be quiet without saying a word. “Perhaps we can work something else out that’s a little more fair.”

  “Fair?” Mrs. Rogers snapped. “I had to explain this nonsense to my husband.”

  “I know Maia wasn’t involved,” I told her. “So if she’s to be punished, I want to make sure it’s not a suspension that blackens her school record.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Mr. Tatum said, seeming willing to hear me out.

  “It’s the end of school. Isn’t there an event that they could volunteer to work on?”

  There was silence as they mulled it over. Mr. Tatum looked at the headmaster. “There is the end-of-term service… but I have something else in mind.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Rogers wore an annoyed expression, as though pissed off he was contemplating my idea.

  “Next semester I’ll be hosting the fund-raiser for Armistice Day in November. It’s always a stressful event for me on top of my work… so why don’t I just leave it to these two ladies to organize it for me?”

  “But —”

  Mr. Tatum held up a hand to cut off Rogers’s coming complaint. “If they screw it up, the suspension still stands.”

  I looked over at Maia and Layla. “How does that sound?”

  Maia nodded glumly.

  Layla glowered at me. “How do you think it sounds?”

  “Attitude,” Mr. Bruce warned. “If Mrs. Rogers agrees, then this will be your punishment.”

  We all looked at the teacher in question. She glared back at us but eventually nodded.

  Logan shook the headmaster’s hand and then the teachers’, thanking them. Maia sidled up to me and clasped my hand. “Always saving the day,” she whispered to me.

  I squeezed her hand. “I’d do anything for you.”

  She smiled cheekily and then looked pointedly at her dad. “Anything?”

  I groaned. “Almost anything.”

  We were heading out of the office when Logan caught up with us, Mr. Tatum at his side. The teacher immediately held out a hand to me. “It was nice to meet you.”

  Our eyes met and held again, and I felt a little zing of attraction. “You too. Thank you for being so fair.”

  “I don’t believe Maia had anything to do with it.”

  “Nice, Mr. T.,” Layla snapped at him as she strode past us, eating up the ground with her long legs.

  “I guess we’re not friends anymore!” Maia called after her sarcastically.

  Logan put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “She was never a very good one anyway, Maia.”

  “Um… do you have a minute to talk privately?” Mr. Tatum suddenly asked me.

  I could feel Logan’s and Maia’s eyes burning into mine. “Uh… Yeah, sure.” I looked back at them. Maia was glowering. Logan’s expression was car
efully blank. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Logan had to budge Maia to get her to move, and as soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Mr. Tatum, curiosity written all over my face.

  He grinned, a boyishly charming smile that I had to admit I liked a lot. He didn’t look a thing like Logan, and I decided I also liked that fact. “Maia’s a good kid. I get the impression she’s been through quite a bit. She talks about you and her dad a lot.”

  I smiled softly. “She’s a very special person.”

  He nodded. “She thinks the same of you. That’s why I know your name is Grace and you are a freelance book editor.”

  I laughed. “What else has she been telling you?”

  “Apparently you make good homemade pizza.”

  “I do,” I agreed with mock arrogance.

  He chuckled. “She said nothing of your modesty, however.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I hope you don’t think this is forward, but I’ve written an historical fiction novel that I’d like to send out on query to a few publishers, and I was wondering if I could hire you to edit it before I do.”

  Surprise moved through me at the request. I honestly hadn’t known why he’d asked me to stay back with him, but for some reason that had been the last thing on my mind. “Oh… um… I have a pretty tight schedule at the moment, but why don’t you give me your e-mail address and I can send you some recommendations for other editors?”

  He looked disappointed but nodded. “Sure. I understand. Thank you. I’ll give you my number instead.”

  I rummaged through my purse for my phone. “Okay. And thank you again for helping me out back there, Mr. Tatum.”

  “It’s Patrick,” he corrected with a soft smile that definitely verged on flirtatious. He rattled off his number to me once I had my phone in hand. “Call me so your number will come up on my phone and I’ll know who you are.”

  I did as he said.

  “You do know that was just a cheap ploy to get your number, right?” He grinned mischievously at me.

  My lips parted. “What? Even the ‘I’ve written a book part’?”

  “No. That part was true. But if I can’t get to know you while you edit my book, I’d really like to get to know you over a coffee or something.” His smile widened at my surprised expression. “Think about it. Please.” Patrick glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’m taking detention today, so I need to go.” He started walking backward, smiling at me the whole time in a way that left no doubt that he was flirting. After the last few days, it was a very nice feeling to be found attractive. “I’ll await your call, Grace.”

  I waved my phone at him and spun around, grinning from cheek to cheek as I strode down the hallway.

  It was funny how that giddy feeling completely evaporated as soon as I caught up with Logan and Maia on the Meadows. There was an awkward silence upon my approach, and I knew Maia was desperate to ask me what her history teacher wanted with me.

  “Why weren’t you at work?” I said to Logan, diverting the conversation immediately.

  “I’m working tonight.”

  “Do you want Maia to come to me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who is looking after her, then?”

  “I don’t need looking after,” Maia huffed.

  “Shannon,” Logan said.

  “How is Shannon?”

  “Fine.”

  I shivered at the chill Logan was giving off. I felt like we were meeting all over again. However, his monosyllabic, gruff way with me was even more unpleasant this time around.

  I thought of Patrick, who actually seemed attracted to me. Maybe Aidan was right after all. Maybe there really was hope.

  Upon our return to Nightingale Way, Maia followed me into my flat and Logan disappeared into his own.

  “What did Mr. Tatum want?” Maia said immediately.

  I wrinkled my nose at her. “You really are getting very nosy.”

  “Well?”

  “Maia.”

  “Dad’s upset.”

  I huffed. “Not about that, I assure you.”

  “You know, for a smart lady, you can be pretty dumb.”

  I narrowed my eyes on her. “Watch it.”

  It was her turn to wrinkle her nose. “You can’t date my history teacher, Grace.”

  “If you must know, Mr. Tatum asked me for a favor.” I slumped down onto my armchair and stared up at her as she glared down at me in irritation. I tried to keep my tone gentle. “But if Mr. Tatum was to ask me on a date, or if anyone was for that matter, it will be up to me whether or not I decide to say yes. Maia, I’m not stupid. I know you’re hankering after something to happen between your dad and me, but it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes, making me feel guilty as hell.

  “Maia.” I stood up, but she’d already spun on her heel and dashed out of my flat.

  I heard the slam of Logan’s front door and slumped back in my chair, wishing my life weren’t so freaking complicated and that I didn’t care so damn much about one fifteen-year-old girl and her annoying father.

  CHAPTER 18

  I

  t would suffice to say that I could not get to sleep that night. I tossed and turned for hours, until eventually I gave in and got up to do some work.

  At around four in the morning I was in my sitting room stretched out on the couch with my laptop, working on Joss’s manuscript. I was having the best time with it. The lady knew how to bloody well write a good book. This was when my job was amazingly fun, because I got to read a great book and then advise on little things that I thought might help make it greater.

  I was lost in Joss’s compelling heroine and whether a scene she’d written that let the reader dive a little deeper into the heroine’s psyche should perhaps be brought forward in the plot so the reader could connect with her a little faster, when —

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  I jolted up on the couch, my laptop almost sliding off of my lap at the sound of a fist banging on my front door. Wary, I got up, placing my computer aside, and hurried down the hallway on tiptoe. I peeked out of the peephole, and my heart leapt into my throat.

  I unlocked the door, yanking it open to reveal Maia standing there in her pajamas with hair disheveled and face pale. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “Dad’s having a nightmare.”

  Worry instantly moved through me. “A nightmare?”

  Maia nodded. “He’s thrashing around and all sweaty. I’m really worried.”

  “Okay. One second.” Pulse racing, I rushed back into the flat, grabbed my keys and slippers, and hurried out to Maia. Following her into Logan’s, I whispered, “Does this happen a lot?”

  Her wide eyes met mine. “Not at first, but the last few weeks he’s had a few. I’m frightened to wake him because I saw this movie once where this guy had nightmares all the time and he could be, like, violent in his sleep. But I can’t leave him like that. It’s really bad tonight. It’s been going on for ages.”

  “Right.” My gaze was automatically drawn down the hallway to where his room was. “Go back to bed, sweetheart. I’ll make sure he’s all right.”

  Maia sagged with relief and exhaustion. After giving me a grateful hug, she returned to her room.

  Filled with trepidation, I started down the hall to Logan’s room, and sure enough I heard a noise like a pained grunt. Moving faster now, I pushed inside his domain, my eyes taking in the shadow of furniture in the dim light. Logan was curled up in the tangle of his blankets as if he were contained in a small space and not a huge bed. Everything about his body language suggested he was trying to protect himself, and the vulnerability of it caused a painful streak to radiate across my chest.

  He jerked suddenly, his face tightening in sleep, and he gave another pained grunt. I switched on his bedside lamp, and the light exposed the sweat glistening on his face and the dampness of his T-shirt.

  I felt anxious about waking him, un
sure how he would react, but I couldn’t bear to watch him in pain like this. “Logan,” I said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Logan.” I shook him.

  He flinched but didn’t wake up.

  I bent closer, my lips at his ear. “Logan, you’re having a nightmare, sweetheart. Wake up.” I shook him harder and jumped back as his whole body jerked.

  Violet eyes blinked up at me in confusion and shock.

  Logan’s chest heaved with exertion.

  “You were having a nightmare,” I told him softly.

  “Jesus,” he whispered, running a hand over his damp short hair. Then something changed in his expression. “Maia?”

  “She’s fine,” I assured him. “She was worried, so she came to get me.”

  “Fuck.” Logan huffed and sagged against his pillow, his fingers curling into his hair. “Fuck.”

  “I’ll go get you some water.”

  When I returned to his room, he’d propped himself up against his headboard and taken off his sweat-soaked T-shirt. He looked exhausted, and that was almost enough to distract me from his well-defined abs.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking the water I handed to him.

  There was a small part of me that wanted to embrace our awkwardness of late and just be done with him. Walk out and not look back. However, there was a much larger part of me that was worried sick about him.

  That part won.

  “Scoot over,” I said.

  Our eyes met and I held my breath, and despite everything, I hoped he didn’t reject my offer of friendship.

  He didn’t.

  Once he’d moved over a bit, I propped myself up against the headboard and stretched my legs out on the bed beside him. “How long have you been having nightmares?”

  There was silence from my left, and I was about to press him when he finally replied, “Since I got out.”

  I ached for him. “Logan,” I whispered, turning my head to look at him.

  Our eyes met again, and I hurt for him even more at the sight of his stubborn expression. “I’m fine, Grace.”

  “You’re not fine.”