Rock-a-Bye Bride
Page 19
“There’s this sensory thing that happens when I smell or taste peppermint,” he said, trying to find the words to explain. “I... There’s a memory there that I’ve connected to my father. I don’t know why. I don’t know what the actual memory is.”
Resting her elbow on the table and her jaw on the palm of her hand, Carla’s eyebrows scrunched in thought. “No, can’t be. Denny detested peppermint. I remember because your granddad used to... Oh, now wait just a minute,” Carla said. “I wonder if you’re thinking of Marjorie Dwyer’s liniment oil. Granddad used the stuff for years.”
“Marjorie who and what?”
“Marjorie Dwyer. She and her husband used to live around here... Lord, this would have been twenty-four, twenty-five years ago,” Carla said. “Anyhow, Marjorie had this little shop where she sold all types of homemade remedies. And your granddad swore by her peppermint liniment. He used to say that nothing eased aching muscles faster.”
“Granddad, huh? Not Denny. You’re sure?”
“I’m sure that Denny didn’t like peppermint and that your grandfather used a peppermint liniment for years, yes. I don’t know if that’s what you’re thinking of, though.”
Nodding, Logan closed his eyes and tried to find that wispy, never really there image, focusing on Zeke instead of Denny and pretending someone had stuck a candy cane under his nose. Then, in drips and spurts and, finally, a flood...as if he’d always known, Logan knew.
He saw Zeke holding his little boy self on his hip, walking him here and there around their land, talking about their family’s history and teaching him about the workings of the ranch. He remembered sitting on his grandfather’s lap, looking at those stars and listening to his stories. And he could almost feel Zeke’s arms around him as he carried him upstairs to bed, tickling and teasing and laughing.
There was more he saw, more he remembered. Some memories he’d always had—the stories under the stars, as an example—but others were new, yet somehow familiar. But what he recalled now that he hadn’t before was how Granddad’s clothes had always smelled like candy—like peppermint. And Logan realized what he should have a long, long time ago.
He’d spent far too long worrying about Denny Daugherty, about the type of man his father had been and how much of Logan was due to Denny. Logically, he’d known that who and what Denny was—good or bad—really did not matter, as Logan was his own man.
A different man.
Unfortunately, that logic, until now, hadn’t reached his heart. He’d known how he should feel, he guessed, but he hadn’t believed. Because yes, from a blood and bone standpoint, he was Denny Daugherty’s son. There wasn’t a doubt or a question there.
But from a heart and soul standpoint? Logan was a Cordero, through and through. Some of that was—obviously—due to his mother, his grandmother and their part in raising him. Some was due to the connection he felt—had always felt—to the Cordero land.
Now, though, Logan understood like he never had before that Zeke’s hand, his guidance, had played the greatest role in making him the man he was today. His granddad had taught him loyalty, honor, how to be strong and capable. And he’d done so from Logan’s very first breath.
This knowledge finally took the weight it should, the weight it deserved, and Logan stopped seeing himself as broken. Stopped worrying he was somehow damaged.
And in a moment of true-blue certainty, he became whole.
Well, as whole as he could be without Anna. Without his daughter. It was time, finally, to proclaim his love and see what he could do about bringing them together. To get on his hands and knees and beg Anna to forgive him for his shortsightedness. To tell her that now...well, now he could see forever.
Lord. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Thirteen
For the first full hour after her conversation with Logan, Anna rehashed every word spoken, every word unspoken, trying to find some strand of anything to hang on to. A reason to stand steady and wait for Logan to come to terms with whatever he was struggling with, rather than give in to her frustration, her sadness, and put a halt to this entire ordeal.
Wouldn’t take long to pack a couple of bags and get over to Lola’s. There, at least, she’d have a lot more hands-on support than she did here, and Anna’s aunt would welcome them with open arms. Lola had already bought a bassinet and a few other basic necessities for caring for an infant, since Anna and Scarlett visited her every few days.
There, at Aunt Lola’s, Anna would find a safe haven. And she wouldn’t be in a place where every car passing the house had her hoping that maybe Logan had come home. Well. This wasn’t his home. The Bur Oak Ranch was his home.
But his daughter wasn’t there, now was she?
Anna glanced at the baby monitor and saw that Scarlett was still sleeping peacefully. The sight of her there, sweet and beautiful and perfect, without a care in the world, brought to the surface every protective, maternal instinct. This baby deserved her father.
Not just any old father, but a loving, strong, loyal man to help guide her through life. And Anna had thought Logan was that man. Could she have been wrong?
In fact, could he be more like her father? Not in the yelling, ridiculous-rule-making, angry man her father had become after her mother’s death, because while Logan certainly had the tendency to get a little grumpy, he was nothing like Anna’s father in that regard.
There was something there, though, a similarity of sorts that had twisted and niggled at Anna for a while. She just hadn’t defined it, mostly because of her unwillingness to come to terms with such a deal-breaking possibility. Anna’s love for Logan was true and strong in her heart, had been for some time now, and oh, she’d wanted to give that love a real chance.
But now, looking at her sleeping daughter, some hard, cold pieces clicked together in a horrible, awful, sickening way. After Ruby’s death, Earl Rockwood had allowed his grief to change him to such an extent that he not only dumped a whole lot of emotional garbage on his daughters’ lives but also...well, he drowned. Into himself. Preferring to sink headfirst into his loss rather than reaching out, rather than trying to stay strong and be the father his girls deserved.
The dad that Anna and her sisters had so needed.
And while Anna didn’t know precisely what was troubling Logan at this moment, wasn’t he—in effect—doing exactly the same thing? Separating himself and building roadblocks, like he’d done in those miserable two weeks she’d felt invisible and mute? Afterward, he’d promised her that the next time something similar occurred, he would try to talk to her. Yet so far, he hadn’t.
She was a mother now. Her child depended on her. And no way, nohow would Scarlett ever feel how Anna had as a child. Never. She simply wouldn’t allow such a scenario to occur.
So. Anna should leave. She should tell Logan that she was done, that she wasn’t going to wait a year for the divorce, and that if—and only if—he pulled himself together, he could be a part of Scarlett’s life. But if he chose to remain distant and evasive, she’d ask him to do their daughter the favor of just staying away.
Yes. This was what she should do, but taking that step didn’t sit well, either. It just didn’t. The idea of giving up on the love she felt, on the wonderful, joyful possibilities she could still see with Logan, held zero relief. So...what was she to do?
Anna paced the few free feet in the living room, going back and forth and back and forth, trying to find a solution. Trying to find the silver lining. That strand of conviction to hang on to or, she supposed, the absolute, undeniable proof that there wasn’t anything there to hang on to.
So she could form the right decision. It was so imperative not to make a mistake.
Anna stopped pacing. Closed her eyes and breathed. Thought of her childhood, of those many nights she sneaked out of her house and sat under that big, fat tree in th
eir backyard. Of how she would stare at the sky, the stars, and cry and whisper or speak those words of anger. She remembered how lost and alone she’d felt. How all she’d wanted, more than anything else, was for her mother to somehow not be dead. So she would feel safe and happy.
Oh, Lord. No. Her daughter could never feel that fear or loneliness or instability. Never. Scarlett needed to know she was always safe. With her mother’s and her father’s arms around her, holding her up above their heads to reach those stars instead of crying beneath them.
Opening her eyes, pivoting on her heel, Anna raced to her bedroom. Those warring instincts of hers had battled it to the death, and finally, she knew what she had to do. She knew without doubt, without any uncertainty, just as her aunt had predicted she would.
She had to pack. Now.
* * *
The entire drive from Wyoming to Steamboat Springs had, fortunately, gone without issue. There wasn’t any construction or detours, no traffic jams or accidents to delay Logan from getting to Anna and Scarlett. Even so, the miles had passed in excruciating slowness, and he had to fight with himself not to call Anna.
He needed to be in the same room with her and breathing the same air when he told her everything that lived in his heart. As he explained his actions, the reasoning behind them and how he’d been too damn blind to see what was in front of him, inside him, all along. Assuming she’d listen, he wouldn’t hold any of it back. Not only because she deserved to hear the whole truth, but also because he...wanted to let her in. Completely. Into his head and into his heart.
No more secrets and no more silence. No more hiding or pretending and no more shields. His defenses were down, and for Anna, they would remain that way. Forever.
When he pulled into the driveway, his hands were shaking. His legs, too. And he was so relieved to see Anna’s car there that the knotted ball in his stomach dissolved. Instantly. He’d started to believe that by the time he got here, she’d be gone. Oh, he would’ve found her, would’ve still said everything that needed to be said, but...this was better.
This meant she hadn’t decided to throw in the towel.
Logan lunged from the car. Ran to the front porch as if the house itself was on fire and, once he got the darn key to work and managed to unlock the door, all but fell into the living room. And he saw two suitcases, a diaper bag and Anna’s purse lined up in a neat row against the wall. The knot that had just disintegrated re-formed—bigger and stronger and tighter—and plopped into his gut with the force of a roaring bull.
But she hadn’t left yet, had she?
Using that as fuel, he propelled his body to move. Checked the kitchen, didn’t see her there, so he went to the nursery. And the second he saw them, he started breathing.
This woman he so loved and this baby he so yearned for were in his grandmother’s rocking chair, swaying back and forth in gentle, soothing motion. And this picture of them, mother and daughter together, was so lovely, so beautiful, he just stood there and soaked it in.
Every detail. Anna’s guarded expression as their gazes met. Scarlett’s tiny, pale hand pressed against her mother’s soft purple sweater. The way the late afternoon sun lit Anna’s hair, making it appear even more golden than typical. And one pink sock–covered little foot, sticking out from beneath the chenille blanket that covered them both.
Yes. Lovely and beautiful and...everything in the world that Logan required to be happy.
He didn’t speak, not yet, as he couldn’t. Instead, he walked forward until he stood directly in front of Anna and Scarlett, and then his knees buckled. They just gave out on him as if they were made of wet mud instead of sturdy bone, and he dropped to the floor.
Pain at all he’d missed these past two weeks, at all he’d put Anna through, swarmed at him like a bunch of angry hornets. He didn’t resist the pain. Didn’t push it away or ignore the reality of what had occurred. This pain was part of their story and should not, could not, be denied.
“I’m sorry,” he said, bending his head forward. “So damn sorry.”
“You should be. And I’m glad you are.”
He laid his head on Anna’s leg, and while he hadn’t meant to just yet, the words were right there, in his throat and bursting to get out, so he started to talk. There was a lot to say, a lot to explain, and he’d planned on going through every bit of it in a slow, measured fashion. To give Anna the opportunity to ask questions. To give him the space to feel his way through.
It seemed, however, that he’d kept these particular words buried for too long. They wanted out, and they wanted out now. This wasn’t so much about control, because he could have slammed on the brakes as he’d done many a time in the past.
This was about accepting, embracing, that he wanted to share his whole and true self with Anna. This was about safety and trust and the purest, most intimate form of partnership. He couldn’t have felt this way, been this way, with any other person on the face of the earth.
Just Anna. Only Anna.
And so he told her more about his childhood, the blessing of his family and the richness of growing up on Cordero land. He talked about how he’d sensed his mother hadn’t fully disclosed in her stories of Denny, and how he’d carried those gaps of knowledge on his shoulders as a burden. A burden that just kept on growing and growing.
Until it was so large, he could no longer bear the weight. How he’d solved this problem by shoving the sum total of all he didn’t know and all he worried about as far down as he could. In order to pretend the questions didn’t exist, had never existed, and to get on with life.
Learning he had a brother, meeting Gavin and discovering he was going to be a father had unearthed what he thought he’d buried. And piece by piece, his surety and serenity started to crack, letting loose the questions and the doubts and taking up too much space in his brain.
He’d struggled, hard, in attempting to discern the truth. A struggle that intensified the night his granddad almost died and the devastating moment he walked away from Anna, shortly after Scarlett’s birth. The guilt and the fears and...well, everything that had followed since.
Logan did not hide a single detail. He did not try to sugarcoat his resulting behavior, including his tendency to shut people out. He didn’t place blame on anyone or anything or any circumstance. He just gave it to her straight.
At the end, after he’d puked out all the bad, he shared the conversation he’d had with his mother. How his blinders had disappeared, so that he could see what was real, and how that truth had finally given him what he’d needed to be whole: his identity.
Strangely, perhaps, considering the myriad forces at play, Logan did not become emotional. He did not have so much as a millisecond of fear or confusion. Being here with Anna and Scarlett, baring his heart and soul, gave him peace.
But now that he was done, he couldn’t quite bring himself to lift his head, to face Anna, to see if she understood and accepted the man he’d just described. The man he was.
The man he hoped and prayed she could love.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You’ll never know how sorry. And I realize you have every right in the world to take those bags you packed and hightail it out of here and never look back. But sweetheart—” now he raised his head so he could look into her beautiful brown eyes “—I am so much in love with you. I... You captivate me, you see, by the way you laugh and dance, and hell, even your off-key singing. The strength you carry with you.”
Anna’s eyes—those gorgeous eyes—filled with emotion. Of what sort, he couldn’t identify just yet, but he didn’t see anger. He didn’t see pity. Good signs, he hoped.
“Well, yes,” she said. “I did pack my bags. Our conversation gave me a lot to think about. And I appreciate how you’ve shared so much of yourself, but you should know—”
“Please, Anna, don’t leave me.”
“Scarlett deserves—” here his voice cracked “—a father who will love her, stand by her side. A father who will carry her to bed, tickling and teasing and making her laugh. A father who will wipe her tears and show her the stars and teach her how to...”
“Dream,” they both said at once.
“And Logan,” Anna said, those tears of hers now crawling down her cheeks, “I already decided you were that man. I wasn’t leaving you. I was getting us ready to go to Wyoming, where I planned on fighting tooth and nail to get you to see the same.” She paused, grinned. “I had plans on finally introducing your hardheaded skull to my cast-iron skillet, if need be.”
“You did? Well, now...” Wait. “You were on your way to the ranch?”
“Oh yes, I most certainly was.” Anna kissed Scarlett’s head, trailed her finger over the sleeping baby’s soft cheek. “Because it became apparent that the man who went to such incredible lengths to give his daughter this room, a place to dream, was the real Logan Daugherty. A man who would never treat his daughter as my father treated his.”
“No, Anna, never. I will always—”
“Shh. I’m not done,” she said. “I know the man you are, Logan, and that man is a strong, loyal, stubborn, sometimes cantankerous man. This man is my man, and while I certainly can imagine my life without him, I absolutely don’t want to. So why in heaven’s name would I leave you when I’m so much in love with you?”
A rock lodged in his throat, or maybe his heart had blown up so big that it had floated upward and got stuck. “Anna...you’re sure on this? That you...”