Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits

by Felicia Watson

  Linda settled in a chair across from the couch and looked at him expectantly. For lack of a better start, he asked, “How long will Krista and Meghan be at Girls Scouts?”

  “Debbie’s mom said somethin’ about goin’ for ice cream after, so they should be a while. I don’t expect to see ’em ’til after nine.”

  “Who’s this Debbie?”

  “She’s a girl in Meghan’s class who’s in Scouts with them. Her mom, Alison, has been takin’ all of the girls to their meetings since school started.” Linda sipped her own coffee and shot Logan a piercing glance. “But I know you didn’t come here to talk about Debbie or Girl Scouts, so why don’t you just give me the bad news?”

  Logan was momentarily stunned into silence. Linda sure had learned to speak her mind since they’d split up. “What makes you think I got bad news?”

  A slightly shrill laugh emanated from her. “I’m psychic, don’t you know? Logan, a man don’t arrange for a private talk like this unless he’s got bad news up his sleeve, so go ahead and spill it.”

  “All right,” Logan sighed. “Thing is, Linda….” That was exactly where he’d gotten stuck every time he’d practiced this speech in his head. Guess I should’ve done that play-acting thing with Trudy. Linda was staring at him through narrowed eyes, and Logan made a split-second decision to withhold any but the most basic information until a later date. Much later—if “never” could be called later. He kept his gaze fixed on the coffee table and said, “Thing is… I don’t think it’s gonna work. You and me gettin’ back together, I mean.” Logan peered up at Linda to find her glowering at him.

  He braced for the worst, but she simply sighed sadly before whispering, “Yeah… that’s what I figured. Carol—my counselor—warned me ’bout this.”

  “About what?”

  “About you bolting if I started sayin’ right out what I wanted and needed from you in our marriage. She said most abusive spouses can’t take that.”

  “That ain’t…. Jesus Christ, Linda, I ain’t like that, and you know it.”

  “You ain’t? Then what the hell is this about?”

  “I just can see now that….” Logan paused, searching for words that would explain without saying too much. Finally, he avowed firmly, “That you’re better off without me. We was never right for each other.”

  Linda folded her arms and sullenly suggested, “Meaning I was never pretty enough for you.”

  “What? That’s the stupides—that’s crazy.”

  “Is it? I know everybody back in Elco used ta wonder how mousy little Linda Strickland ever caught a hunk like Logan Crane—’til Krista was born, then I guess they all counted up real quick and figured it out.”

  “Krista wasn’t the only—”

  Linda was having none of Logan’s protestations and steamrolled over his objections. “But I ain’t that drab little Linda no more. Guess it’d surprise you to know how many guys give me the eye these days. Go ahead and leave, Logan. Find another little mouse who won’t ask you for any effort or consideration, but I ain’t gonna sit on the shelf for long.”

  “Well, good for you,” Logan sneered.

  “What’s that mean?” Linda looked at him appraisingly. “Seems like you don’t even really care. You’re already plannin’ on replacin’ me double-quick, aren’t you?” Logan failed to keep the guilt from slashing across his face, causing his wife to ask with dawning suspicion, “Or have you done it already?” When he didn’t answer, her voice rose as she challenged, “Have you?”

  It took some effort, but Logan managed to refrain from squirming as he rumbled, “Linda, calm down—”

  “Oh, I’m plenty calm, you cheating son of a bitch,” she barked. “Who is she?” Tears were welling as Linda jumped to her feet and faced him over the coffee table. “Some little teenage slut you picked up in a bar? Does she know what you did—”

  “Will you give me a fucking break?” Logan shouted. “I ain’t hooked up with any teenage slut.” He did his best to avoid meeting her accusing stare and watched the cat slink quickly from the room, obviously unhappy with the crackling tension in the air.

  “Right. So, she ain’t a teenager, just a—”

  Grimly attempting to salvage his plan, Logan defiantly asserted, “There ain’t no ‘she’.”

  Linda stood in silence, gulping air and studying him intently. The faint glow of hope seeping through her anger almost broke him. “God, I’m sorry. Guess I really flew off the handle.” She flopped back down in her chair and hid her head in her hands. Though it was muffled, Logan still heard her say, “It almost felt good to have somethin’ concrete to blame.”

  The knowledge that, without the whole truth, Linda might blame herself pierced Logan so badly the pain felt almost physical. Though some part of his mind was screaming “no,” he still forced himself to woodenly declare, “There is somethin’ concrete to blame.”

  “What?” Linda brushed a blonde lock out her eyes, saying, “Me? Me wantin’ more out of this marriage than—”

  “No. It ain’t that, it’s….” Logan ran out of steam, wondering how he could possibly say those words. He took one more look at his wife’s tear-stained face and started again. “There is someone else.”

  Bitterly, she spat out, “You lied to me.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said tiredly, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “There ain’t no she because… because it’s….” His gaze fell briefly to the carpet as he quietly finished, “It’s a he.” Time seemed to freeze for Logan with his admission hanging in the air while Linda stared at him incredulously for what seemed like hours.

  When she spoke at last, her pleading eyes and strangled cry of “What the hell does that mean?” practically begged him to explain it away. He saw no need for any response; the words would have to stand.

  “Are you tryin’ to tell me that you’re fucking a guy? My husband of twelve years is… gay?” Wild-eyed, Linda waited for an answer, but when Logan solemnly nodded, she leaped up, saying, “I can’t sit here and listen to this shit!” She moved towards the hallway, gasping, “Oh my God… oh my God… I can’t believe it.”

  Logan rocketed up and blocked her way before she could leave the room, pleading, “Linda, I’m sorry. Ya gotta know, I didn’t wanta hurt you—”

  He reached out a hand to her shoulder, but she slapped him away, snarling, “Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me.”

  Logan stoically bore the weak punch she landed on his arm before drawing his sobbing wife into his embrace. He felt there was nothing he could do except let her cry, so he led her back to the couch and sat awkwardly beside her until the tears subsided. When she was finally hiccupping with her head thrown back against the couch, Logan offered, “Can I get you somethin’?”

  Linda turned to stare at him for an uncomfortable stretch of time before answering, “Like what? Twelve years of my life back?” When he shifted his gaze to the wall, she said, “Forget it. I sure could use a beer, though.”

  Logan left to fulfill her request, whispering, “Me, too.”

  He came back with two IC Lights moments later and handed one to Linda. After a long swallow, she looked him in the eye and asked evenly, “It’s true, huh? You’re not makin’ this up?”

  After gulping some of his own beer, Logan answered, “Yeah, it’s true.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Linda shook her head and put her beer to her lips, muttering, “I sure didn’t see that one coming.” She cocked her head at Logan. “You ain’t nothin’ like… you know… what you see on TV and all.”

  “Nope,” Logan answered shortly, hoping to keep this calmer version of Linda around as long as possible.

  Another sip of beer fortified Linda enough to ask, “So what, you just figured this out recently?”

  A tired shrug was his first response, followed by, “Not really. I guess I been ignoring it for a lotta years. Finally caught up with me.”

  “A lot of years? Since before we were married?” There was a definite wobble
in her voice. “Does that mean you never loved me?”

  Logan shook his head as he chewed at a hangnail. When he’d done enough damage to taste blood, he finally answered, “That ain’t so. I did—I do love you, but it ain’t…. I just…. I never loved you like you deserved.”

  A bitter snort signaled her opinion of that statement. “Too bad you didn’t figure that out before you nearly killed me throwin’ me through that dresser.”

  Ignoring that, he tried to redirect the conversation by asking, “Where do we go from here?”

  “You’re asking me?” Linda said. “Damned if I know.” Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, “Fuck, what’re we gonna tell the girls?”

  “I don’t wanta tell ’em this,” Logan answered firmly. “Not yet.”

  “No shit.” Linda shot him a look that suggested Logan had taken leave of his senses. “But they’re gonna wanta know why we’re splittin’ up.”

  “Can’t we just tell ’em we decided we’re better off apart?”

  “Yeah, somethin’ like that, I guess.” Linda ran a hand through her hair, adding, “Let me think on it, Logan.” She turned to him, asking sarcastically, “Are you in a hurry about this? You wanta run off to San Francisco with your boyfriend or somethin’?”

  “Hell no,” Logan snapped. If anyone else had asked that question, there would have been grave consequences, but he clamped down on his anger and let it go. “We can tell ’em when you’re ready.”

  Suddenly, Linda leaned back against the couch and demanded, “Who is this guy, anyway?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I ain’t gonna—”

  “Oh, forget it,” Linda said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t even know why I asked. Just wondered where you met him, is all. Can’t picture you hanging out in some gay bar—”

  “I been working on a car with him,” Logan supplied tersely.

  “Wow, another grease monkey. You two sound perfect for each other,” Linda jeered.

  Logan was tempted to tell her she was right about that last part, but he ignored the dig, figuring there was much worse she could have said. Rising from the couch, he said, “Guess I better get going.”

  “Yeah, I need some time to pull myself together before the girls get home.”

  Logan nodded and turned to go, but the mention of his daughters prodded him to confirm their plans. “Speaking of them, you still gonna let me have ’em for the weekend?”

  “Are you gonna take ’em over to meet your friend?” Linda imbued the last word with extreme bitterness and irony.

  Using up the last of his patience, Logan ground out, “No.” He let that sink in and then added, “Though I was sorta thinkin’ of takin’ ’em to Elco with me.”

  “Elco? What the hell for?”

  “I need to get a car painted at Cal Titus’s place, and I thought I’d stay with my sister when I do. I haven’t talked to her about this yet, so nothin’s certain, but she ain’t seen the girls since we left,” he finished lamely, hoping Linda wouldn’t point out the fact that Daisy hadn’t seen them all that much when they lived in Elco.

  Linda stood up and gathered their beer bottles and coffee mugs and seemed to be mulling over his plan. Finally she said, “Okay. You can have the girls, but I wanta know before Friday if you’re takin’ ’em to Elco or not.” She drained her beer before turning to him. “You ain’t gonna let people back home know ’bout this, are you?”

  “No, ’course not,” Logan scoffed. He took a deep breath and asked, “Are you?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Linda rolled her eyes as she said, “All my life I been dyin’ to become the laughin’ stock of Elco.”

  There was nothing good to say to that, so Logan pulled his keys out of his pocket and said, “I’ll see ya Friday when I pick the girls up.”

  “Yeah, I’ll have ’em packed up and ready before six so you won’t have to hang around waiting,” Linda answered. It was obvious from her tone that her offer was as much for her own sake as his.

  LATE THURSDAY morning, Nick jogged up the front porch steps to get another leaf bag from his stash. He stopped to gulp some coffee from his thermos before heading back to work. He’d already filled four large bags with leaves after steadily raking for a couple of hours, yet he still had quite a bit of work in front of him, which was surprising considering the size of his tiny yard. But the plot of ground was covered with oak trees, and they made their presence known each fall. Nick usually paid a neighborhood kid to rake them up, but this year he had the time to tackle the job himself.

  In spite of the crisp October weather, Nick had removed his jacket, since the manual labor was keeping him plenty warm. He’d nearly filled the fifth bag when he heard a car coming up the driveway. Nick looked over and immediately recognized Trudy’s silver Honda Civic. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes at this unexpected visit. Trudy had checked in with him by phone every day since Monday, now this.

  As she walked slowly over to where he stood, Nick swallowed back an impulse to tell her he still had a mother, thank you very much, and instead waved a hand at her wool suit, saying, “That isn’t the best work outfit I ever saw, but the extra rake is in the back shed.”

  Trudy could barely muster up a smile at his lame quip, but she did look around and say, “The place looks good. You’ve been busy.”

  Nick leaned on his rake and looked at the house and yard with some satisfaction. “Yeah, I’ve been doing a little painting and cleaning up an’ that.” He shot his boss a slightly sardonic smile. “So did you drop in to see if I’ve been using my time off wisely?” When Trudy didn’t answer immediately, only searched his face with her large brown eyes, Nick felt a cold lump of unease settle into his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

  Rather than answering directly, Trudy said, “Let’s have a seat, okay?”

  “Sure,” Nick answered, taking a few shallow breaths to quell his rising alarm. Get a grip. She ain’t gonna fire me now. What could’a changed since Monday? I ain’t even talked to Logan since then.

  When Nick dropped his rake, she steered him gently to the porch, and they both settled in on the top step, Trudy seeming unconcerned about her good suit. He stiffened his spine and looked at her, saying, “Okay. What’s up?”

  “I have bad news, Nick.”

  That phrase sent panic racing through his veins. Bad news, said in that tone and given by one counselor to another, could only mean one thing. “One of my clients?” Trudy’s faced confirmed it. “Who? Oh, God, is it Sheila? It’s her, I—”

  “It’s not Sheila,” Trudy broke in gently. “It’s… it’s Norah.”

  Nick felt like there was a disconnect between his ears and his brain. Those words didn’t make any sense—couldn’t make sense. “No, it can’t be. She’s still in Arkport, she’s with her parents. She’s—”

  “According to the police report, she left Arkport over two weeks ago, but she never came back to Pittsburgh. Instead she headed to Monroeville to stay with Alex.”

  “She’s been with Alex this whole time?” Nick was practically shouting, but he couldn’t help himself. “What the fuck, Trudy! How bad is she hurt?” Even as he asked that question, there was a small boy inside begging brokenly, “Please, oh, please, God, no. Please don’t let her be….”

  “She’s dead. It was a murder-suicide, apparently—”

  Trudy’s words hit Nick like a block of black ice, freezing his core and knocking out all possibility of rational or coherent thought. When he brushed the tears from his face, he felt oddly disconnected from them, as though they’d been shed by another man entirely. Vertigo swooped down on him, and Nick lowered his head, trying to ride out the wave of nausea.

  “Nick, did you hear what I said?” Trudy’s steady voice broke into his reverie. “I want you to pack a bag and come and stay with us for a few days.”

  “No,” Nick answered firmly, finally finding his voice.

  “I really think it’s best—”


  “No.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna pack a bag, all right, but not so I can go hide out with you and Larry. I gotta get to the funeral.”

  “The funeral isn’t until Saturday,” Trudy said, following him to the door.

  “Why not?”

  “They’re doing an autopsy today.” Nick closed his eyes against the image of his beautiful friend laid out on a cold steel slab. “Besides, I don’t think it’s wise for you to attend the funeral. Not alone.”

  Nick spun on his heel, snarling, “You don’t think it’s wise? You don’t think I owe that to her? After I abandoned her, threw her to the wolves like—”

  “Jesus Christ, Nick, will you listen to yourself? I knew you’d try and take all of the blame. I knew it!”

  “If not me, who?”

  “How about blaming Alex, the fucker who pulled the trigger?” Trudy grabbed hold of his sleeve. “How about blaming me, the one who told you to let her go? How about blaming Norah—”

  “No,” Nick cried, wrenching away from her and moving towards the front door. He put his hand on the knob and managed to say more calmly, “I need you to leave now.”

  Trudy followed him, asserting, “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  “Too bad, ’cause that’s exactly what I want.”

  “Nick—”

  “Please, go.”

  It was clear Trudy was wavering, but she finally nodded, saying, “Okay. But you call me if you need anything. And I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be on my way to Arkport tomorrow.”

  “Then let me take you.” When Nick glared at her, she amended, “Or let someone go with you. I’m sure someone else at ACC—”

  “No.”

  “I insist—”

  Nick whirled on her angrily. “Do you need a fucking hearing aid? I said no! Besides, you can’t insist. You’re not even my boss anymore.”