Secrets and Lies

by N. C. Anderson

  Gregg came out of the kitchen, shrugging his broad shoulders while rolling his hazel eyes upward. “Ah, Mom, guys get cut all the time. I'm not a little boy, and you're not being fair."

  She hated it when males rolled their eyes like that. “Do you want to play?"

  The sun's rays from the skylight in the ceiling made him seem even taller than his five-feet eleven inches as Gregg shifted his long-legged body and scuffed the toe of his shoe back and forth across the tiled floor beneath him. “Yeah."

  "Then don't roll your eyes at me, and don't argue with me,” she said, and wished his father were alive to handle the male stuff her son wanted to do. The male stuff that launched her protective instinct into high gear. “I said you could play. I just pray you don't get maimed for life."

  "Relax, Selena,” Della McRae said, her soft tone seeming to drift in the air as she rose from her desk, smoothed her long, plaid skirt, and crossed the room toward them. “It isn't as though he's trying out for the NFL.” She pointed at the well-defined muscles in Gregg's arms. “The way Gregg works out every day, he should be sufficiently safe. He certainly is healthy enough."

  "Thanks, Grandma,” Gregg said, hugging her when she reached him. “You'll come and watch the games won't you?"

  "I wouldn't miss them for a million-dollar sale.” Della turned to Selena. “Would you mind watching the office while I feed this potential running back an ice cream soda?"

  Selena studied her mother's wise brown eyes, firm chin and straight spine. Neatly secured in a bun, her sleek salt-and-pepper hair merely added to her look of sagaciousness. Selena sighed. She couldn't argue with both of them and get anywhere. “Sure, but you have to bring me a fudge ripple cone."

  The tiny, gold bell above the door tinkled delicately, and Selena's blood seemed to flow straight into her feet as she looked into familiar steel-gray eyes. Valencia Cove was a small town. It was inevitable that sooner or later they would run into each other. Selena had counted on it being later. She'd just settled in three weeks ago; she wasn't ready for this. Light headed, her throat constricted, Selena breathed in deeply and said, “Why, Logan, it's been a long time. Is there something I can do for you?"

  "Selena.” Logan stopped directly in front of her, nodded a greeting to Della and Gregg, then held up the newspaper in his hand. “I'm interested in the property you have listed in yesterday's paper."

  Della peered anxiously at Selena, then smiled. “I listed those properties we advertised, Selena. Would you like me to help Doctor Logan?"

  Selena shook her head, silently thanking her mother for never being one to criticize harshly. Years ago her mother had comforted her after the breakup between her and Logan, had put it down as puppy-love heartbreak. However, from the wide-eyed look on her mother's face, it seemed certain Della now understood, or was at least considering, her miscalculation.

  "You and Gregg go get your ice cream.” Selena almost added she could handle Doctor Patrick Logan; only, she wouldn't be fooling Della, let alone herself. Della had told her some of the gossip surrounding Logan's divorce. Apparently the effervescent Irene Craig of Craig Industries couldn't handle him either. Stop it, Selena chided herself. You don't know anything that's happened to him.

  "All right then, I'll see you later,” Della said and looked at Logan. She nodded once, a slight frown marring her usually smooth forehead. “Nice to see you again, Doctor Logan. I hope we have the property you're looking for."

  Logan lifted his right hand and angled his weight from one foot to the other as he tipped his hat slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. McRae, I'm positive you do."

  With concern etched on his young face, Gregg glanced from Selena to Logan and back again, then he spoke to Selena for the first time since Logan arrived. “Are you all right?"

  Because she knew exactly how perceptive Gregg always was, and to keep him from worrying, Selena waved her hand at him and smiled. “Of course, I'm just fine.” She leaned closer to him, whispering quickly. “Now get going before your grandmother beats you to the drug store."

  His expression still uncertain, Gregg backed away. “Okay. Be back in a few minutes."

  After the door closed behind him, Selena turned to Logan. She held out her hand and cleared her voice. “I placed several ads,” she said. “Let me see which one you're referring to."

  "The Baker place on Hidden Oaks Road. It's two hundred acres of high valley land.” He moved a step closer, dangling the newspaper in front of her. The flush on her cheeks, the wariness in her expressive eyes, told him she remembered the intimacy they'd shared.

  She inhaled the clean, spicy scent of him. The same disturbing reaction that got her in trouble sixteen years before, erupted throughout her body, making her angry with herself, angry with him, and she snatched the paper from his fingers. “Just let me look at it,” she snapped as he advanced even closer.

  "Testy, aren't we?” he muttered matter-of-factly, shifting back a step.

  A wry grin deepened the dimples near his fascinating mouth. Selena blinked several times to discourage her desire to stare. “Sorry, Logan, it's been a busy day.” She pretended to read the ad, willing her heart to get a hold of itself. “The owners of this ranch have decided to sell it in one piece.” Unable to curb temptation, she lifted her gaze to his roughly handsome face. Older, yes, yet, much to her disappointment, his finely shaped lips and deep dimples hadn't changed one bit. She'd hoped he'd become beer bellied and craggy with lots of hair loss. She couldn't be certain as to the latter, because his Stetson covered most of his head. What she could see was thick black hair; which looked two inches longer than she remembered.

  "I thought you were a doctor, so why the interest in a ranch?” The Stetson was a real surprise. Along with the jeans and scuffed snakeskin boots he wore. Could it be Logan had fallen on hard times? That was unrealistic. His father was a wealthy surgeon, his mother a retired Optometrist, and the rest of his relatives could cover any other field of medicine left open. The Logan's would never let one of their own come on hard times.

  "I already have a ranch,” he informed her. “Even doctors need to live somewhere, Selena. Nevertheless, I've always wanted the Baker Place.” He might not know about her everyday life, but the years didn't seem to alter how constant she appeared to him. He realized they'd shared too much of each other to ever be strangers.

  Humor appeared in his eyes; convincing her he wasn't poor by a long shot. Selena remembered the Baker Place, had merely fooled herself into thinking that she'd stopped remembering, that she'd finally stopped caring. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the night he'd told her his dreams regarding that land. However, she intended to keep her eyes open. He didn't need to realize she could never forget. Selena glanced at her watch. “I have an appointment in a few minutes,” she said. “When would you like to go look at the land?"

  "I can meet you there at ten in the morning. Will the time fit into your busy schedule?"

  His tone sounded more impatient than before, but nothing seemed changed in his expression. Selena held his newspaper out to return it to him. “Right, I'll be there at ten in the morning.” The ranch lay twenty miles out, hidden between two Oak-filled mountains, and oh, so, isolated. She could manage it. Of course she could. After all, years had separated and dulled the past. At least it seemed like it had for him; Logan's easy stance and relaxed features portrayed no outward signs of embarrassment—or interest.

  Logan took his paper from her outstretched hand and started toward the door, then stopped, frowning at her. “You're limping, Selena, how come?"

  Funny, she couldn't remember moving from the spot she was standing in since he entered the office. How did he know? “An accident,” she answered him, not willing to go into detail.

  "Recently?"

  His deep voice sounded concerned—well, he was, after all, a doctor. “Fairly. Seven months ago. I'm doing my physical therapy.” The body cast had come off three months ago, and Selena could still feel the itch.

  "Come by th
e clinic for an exam,” he said. “We've got some rehabilitation equipment of our own that could speed up your improvement.” He could see pain in her stance.

  He'd said it as if she were a child he could give orders to. She couldn't have heard right. “Sorry?"

  "You heard me,” Logan said, resuming his strides toward the door. “I'll have an appointment set for you at four tomorrow afternoon."

  "Now, just you wait a minute,” she sputtered. However, Selena was talking to empty air, he was gone. Her cheeks flared with heat. If Logan thought she would even consider him as her doctor, thought she would ever again let him run those beautiful fingers of his across her skin, he was crazy. Not, simply no—but hell no.

  Gregg pushed through the door with her cone dripping chocolate down its side in one hand and his soda in the other. “Yo, Mom, how come you look so bugged? We didn't take that long."

  Selena took her cone from him and swiped her tongue completely around its cold, delicious surface. “No, you didn't take too long. Where's your grandmother?"

  "She had to go see the tailor. He finished the new realty jackets, and she said she'd be back in an hour. What's up, Mom?"

  Selena stared at him for a moment. How can I avoid answering his question? Still, they'd always been honest with each other.

  Gregg's eyes widened, his chin, jutting out stubbornly. “That was him, wasn't it, Mom? The guy you dated in high school. The man with no name."

  Always her greatest joy in having Gregg around was he never ceased to astonish her. “Yes,” she admitted; forever wishing she could stop wearing her emotions on her sleeve. “Now, he has a name, but it's still a confidence we don't need to share. Anyway, not yet.” She touched Gregg's round chin with the back of her knuckles and succeeded in making him grin, familiar dimples appearing near his mouth. “We'll talk this thing out later, when we can be alone and with no place else to go."

  "I'd rather talk about him now, but okay,” he said, his expression becoming doubtful. “I'm still not sure I'm glad we moved here."

  Gregg had a delightful measure of common sense that Selena had become aware of the day he'd started talking. Dealing with this would require serious diplomacy, but she had no doubts concerning him reasoning things through. Selena reached up to mess his seal-brown hair, but he ducked, expertly. “Wouldn't you miss living near your grandmother?"

  "Oh, yeah,” Gregg answered promptly, reaching out to tangle Selena's hair in retaliation, and she managed to back away and fend him off. “Grandma's the greatest. She loves football."

  Selena ignored his emphasis on Della. “Speaking of football, I have a client coming, Gregg, do you need a quick lift to practice?” Selena had no more than uttered the words when a horn honked outside the office.

  "Nope. Sonny Keller's mom's giving me a ride.” Gregg took long strides across the room. “See ya later, Mom."

  * * * *

  A block from his clinic, Logan's thoughts zoomed in on the teenage boy who had been standing beside Della. Come to think about it, he'd resembled Selena more than a little. He recalled the rumors that reported she'd had a son with old man Flynn. A surge of jealousy and resentment toward the boy startled him.

  What difference did it make? Selena was only sixteen when she married Flynn, it seemed reasonable she would have children.

  But, it made a difference.

  The thought of another man touching the silkiness of her skin tore at his gut. He didn't want to feel resentful, possessive, but not wanting his sullen mood didn't seem to help. He'd made love to her, won some stupid respect from the guys in a fraternity that pleased his father then forgot she existed. At the time he thought he'd lucked out when he'd decided on her name; taking Selena McRae's panties had proved to be an education in challenges, yet, a cinch.

  Logan pulled the truck into his parking space, cut the engine, and put his head back on the seat, knocking his Stetson forward. He slammed his fist against the metallic-silver steering wheel.

  Liar.

  It hadn't been even close to being a cinch. He could have bought the panties from her, sworn her to silence. Everyone who knew Selena took advantage of her very handy and mile-wide streak-of-loyalty all the time. But he'd wanted more. It had ended up a sweet, sweet nightmare. A dream that had appeared regularly, haunting him for the past sixteen years.

  A sudden tapping on the window beside him made him jump.

  "Doctor Patrick, are you taking a nap in there?” Logan's cheerful, globular secretary Ellie Sanchez asked, her dark-brown eyes sparkling. “The natives are getting restless in the waiting room. The last time I looked, several little ones were swinging from the Venetian blinds, and their mothers looked glassy-eyed."

  Logan opened the door. “Thanks, Ellie, I must have been daydreaming. Sorry I'm late. I had to stop at Della McRae's new Realty office.” Yeah, daydreaming seemed right. But if Selena Flynn's image returned to his sleeping hours, he wasn't at all certain what he'd do.

  He fell into step beside Ellie. “No emergencies?"

  "You got lucky, Doctor. It's a day of immunization though, and there are little ones everywhere.” Ellie touched his arm. “I heard Selena came back home. And, oh my, poor, poor Selena's husband."

  Logan glanced at Ellie. How could he have forgotten his most important source of information? “All right, Ellie, you've got me hooked,” Logan said, smiling. “What happened?"

  "Why, they were in a terrible accident. Mr. Flynn died, and Selena was lucky to have lived through it. Della said she came home to recuperate. Mr. Flynn's first family probably didn't want her around any more. Being so much younger than him—Why, she's most likely the same age as his kids. That boy of hers is sure a handsome young thing. Why—"

  "Tell me more later,” Logan broken in abruptly. Besides knowing once Ellie got started on a roll he couldn't turn her off until she finished, he did not want to hear about Selena's son. Just as he opened the door to the clinic, the shrill cries of annoyed babies slammed into his ears. Logan yelled above the din, “And put Selena Flynn on the appointment list for tomorrow afternoon at four."

  * * * *

  When Selena returned to the office two hours later, she found her mother surveying a maroon and gray, double-breasted jacket with brass buttons. “Those are terrific looking,” Selena said, moving to touch the lightweight polyester material.

  Della smiled, nodding her head. “Santani said men and women are wearing this color of maroon. If we get a male agent to join us, there won't be any problem. He's a super tailor, isn't he?"

  "Genius,” Selena agreed. “There any coffee in the back?"

  "Yes, bring me a cup, will you?” Della walked toward her desk and hung the jacket on the clothes tree adjacent to it. She turned her head, studying Selena. Her eyes held an uncertainty Selena hadn't seen in them for sixteen years. “I think we need to talk, Selena."

  While grappling with how she would answer her mother's questions, Selena walked into the office kitchen where she poured two coffees. She didn't want to discuss Logan, not yet, but her mother wouldn't wait without an explanation.

  After placing Della's coffee cup on her desk in front of her, Selena approached the large window nearby and stared out into the busy parking lot. She glanced at Della over her shoulder. “What's on your mind, Mom?"

  "Mostly,” Della said, stacking the papers strewn across her ink blotter, “the incredible white-as-a-nurse's-uniform expression on your face when Doctor Logan walked in.” Della shoved the papers in her top drawer. She supported her coffee cup with both hands and rose out of her velveteen chair. “I don't think I've seen that color on you since you decided to marry Daniel Flynn."

  A shaft of suppressed pain sliced at Selena's heart. She turned around, leaning her hip against the windowsill. “I made the right decision you know."

  "Perhaps,” Della conceded. “But then, maybe the meanness of society and heavy finances blocked any other alternatives you might have had."

  Selena sipped the steaming coffee, not at all cert
ain what Della meant. Her mother couldn't possibly know anything concerning what happened. Della had comforted her through a bout of puppy love. She'd been careful not to have the time to explain or leave herself open to questioning. “Daniel gave me the education I needed, and Gregg a fine start in life. He loved us. Who could ask more from anyone?"

  "So, Logan is the one, isn't he? Your first love?” Perhaps Gregg inherited his seeming ability to read minds, or at least her mind, from his grandmother. Selena looked at Della and asked the question she'd always wanted to raise. “Was Daddy your first love?"

  "No,” Della answered, her expression wistful. “My first love died in a riot outside of a bank where he worked.” She placed her cup on the desk. “If Raymond hadn't died, you wouldn't have been a McRae."

  "Then, why Daddy?"

  "Your grandparents thought he seemed to be my best option. They had eight children, little money, plus it was time for me to leave home. They couldn't afford to send me to college. Although I had a job, being a woman, I couldn't earn enough to support myself. Your father proposed to me, and my parents thought it was a great idea.” Della sat on the edge of her desk. “Don't get me wrong. I loved Will. I just didn't love him the same way I'd loved Raymond."

  Selena couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. “I would never have guessed. Dad barely survived each day, being the town drunk. You worked yourself ragged cleaning for others to keep food on the table—"

  "In the beginning, your father tried hard to succeed,” Della interrupted defensively. “He wasn't born a drunk, you know.” Della leaned back against her desk, crossing her hands in front of her. “The vows we took said for better or worse. I couldn't walk out on him, or turn up my toes and die because things turned out worse."

  Della reached out, touching Selena's arm. “Please, tell me, why did you chose Daniel when it was Patrick Logan you wanted?"

  "Did Raymond love you, Mom?"

  "Yes,” Della said immediately. “Oh, yes."

  Selena strolled away from the window and crossed the room to her desk. “Then you have your answer. Logan didn't love me. I was told that he dated me as part of a wager with some Harvard-bound fraternity pals. I also heard that he drew my name like someone draws a raffle ticket.” And she'd learned to live without his laughter, his confident energy, the wonder of standing beside him, lying beside him.