Blame it on Texas

by Scott, Tori

  Carol looked over the top of Katie's head, her eyes sad and weary. "I'm sure there is, but I can't think right now. I know there are a hundred details we need to attend to. I'm so glad you're here because I don't have a clue where to start."

  "I'll stay as long as you need me. Where's Logan?"

  "He went down to the chapel. Dad's death hit him pretty hard, but I think he didn't want me to see how much it affected him. Could you go see if he's okay? I'm worried about him."

  "Of course. I'll be back in a little while." Megan turned to go, then turned back when Carol called her name.

  "I'm not sure he'll be glad to see you. He's angry with himself. He thinks he let Dad down."

  "Glad or not, he needs me," Megan said. She headed down the hall to the front of the hospital, looking for signs as she went. When she saw an arrow pointing the way to the chapel, she turned down a short hall. The chapel doors were closed, the lights out.

  She pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a lone figure kneeling at the altar. Logan. She walked down the aisle, her steps silent on the thick carpet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Megan heard his sobs before she reached him and thought her heart would break. The man who valued control had lost his. The man who had made it his mission to keep his family safe hadn't been able to save his father. He wouldn't realize it wasn't his fault, that he'd done all that was humanly possible.

  She knelt beside him and slid an arm around his back. She didn't speak, just squeezed his shoulder, offering what comfort she could.

  Logan looked up and scrubbed a fist across his eyes. He looked so lost Megan wanted to pull all his pain inside herself and kiss his tears away. When he turned to face her, she opened her arms and wrapped them around him.

  To her surprise, he didn't pull away. He laid his head against her chest and sighed. "I tried, Megan. I tried. I came home, I took over the chores. I worked myself half to death trying to make things right. He died anyway."

  "I know, Logan. But you're not God. Only He can make decisions about life and death. You did all you could."

  "No, I didn't. If I'd stayed instead of running off to Dallas when I got out of school, Dad wouldn't have had to work so hard. He wouldn't have had to do it all by himself. I could have made his life so much easier." He pulled himself out of her arms and straightened. "I'll never forgive myself for not doing that."

  "Logan, listen to me. If you'd stayed, you would have resented it every minute. You might have been here physically, but your heart would have been somewhere else. And Charlie would have felt guilty for keeping you here."

  He lowered his head and stared at his hands. "Why did it take me so long to come home? If I'd just come back a year ago, two years ago, all this might not have happened."

  "You don't know that. Strokes aren't caused by hard work. They're the result of disease, or a weakness in the blood vessels. Even certain medications can cause them. It wouldn't have mattered whether you stayed or left. The result would have been the same. And you did come back."

  "Yeah, and a damn lot of good it did him." He stood, anger vibrating through him. "His death is my fault. Just like my mother's was."

  Before he could walk away, Megan stood and grabbed his hand, then led him to a pew. She pulled him down beside her. "What do you mean, that your mother's death was your fault? How old were you when she died?"

  Logan didn't want to tell Megan how he'd failed his mother. He was afraid she'd look at him as less of a man, not worthy of respect or trust. But he poured out the whole story, anyway, unable to resist the compassion in her eyes as she begged him to tell her.

  When he finished his story, he stood and walked quickly from the chapel, never looking back. He wandered the hospital corridors for an hour, silently railing against fate, against death, against his own failings. He wanted to run back to Dallas, to escape like he had at eighteen.

  But he wasn't a boy, free of responsibilities. He had to stay and get his father buried, settle his affairs, and take care of his sister and his daughter. At least now he could send Megan home. That would give him one less female to worry about.

  Strange, he didn't feel better when he thought about Megan leaving. He'd gotten used to her being there, underfoot every time he turned around. He'd even gotten used to her smart mouth. But it was for the best. With Charlie gone and Carol back from New York, there was no longer any reason for her to stay.

  ***

  Megan knew Logan wanted her to leave. He avoided her at every opportunity, locking himself away in his study for long periods of time, spending hours outside mending fences that didn't need mending. But she couldn't leave. Carol was devastated and had no idea what to do to make the funeral arrangements. So she stayed, and she gave Logan the space he seemed to need.

  Where Carol talked about Charlie almost non-stop, Logan never mentioned him. Of course, he wasn't speaking much at all these days except when Katie needed his attention. So Megan listened while Carol talked, and talked while Logan withdrew farther into his shell.

  Carol tried to make up for Logan's long absences by including Megan in whatever she was doing. At the moment that including writing Charlie's obituary. "What do you put in one of these things?" she asked, the pen clamped between her teeth. "Just the basic facts of his life and family? Or do I put what a wonderful father he was?"

  Megan picked up the piece of paper and read what Carol had written so far. "Well, you have the basics here. Did he fight in the war? Go to college? Does he have any relatives still living beside you and Logan and Katie?"

  "I think he still has a few cousins, but I don't know their names."

  "Then just put 'and various cousins.' I think it will be fine."

  Carol laid the pen on the table and dropped her head into her hands. "I never knew it would be this hard. I was so young when Mom died that I didn't really know what was going on. I just knew I missed her. I still do."

  Megan handed Carol a tissue and waited while she wiped her eyes and regained her composure. "I guess we all miss the ones we love when we lose them. I still miss my great-aunt. She was so full of life and love before her stroke. That was the hardest two years of my life, watching her decline like that."

  Carol twisted the tissue around her finger and dabbed at her eyes, then looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "I know it sounds awful, but I'm almost glad Dad didn't linger for years. It would have been terrible for him."

  "It doesn't sound awful at all. You loved him and you wouldn't have wanted to see him suffer. And you know that even though you're suffering now, he isn't anymore. That's a first step toward healing."

  Carol smiled softly, her eyes still misty. "How did you get so wise, anyway? You've grown up a lot in the last three years."

  Megan leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. She could see Logan in the distance, dragging a large, dead branch to the pile he'd made just past the garden. A pang of regret swept through her as she thought of what could have been, but would never be. "Yeah, I guess in some ways I have."

  ***

  Maintaining his rigid self-control through the funeral was probably the hardest thing Logan had ever done. He hadn't let another tear fall since Megan had found him in the chapel, sobbing like a baby. He'd avoided her as much as possible since then, embarrassed that she'd witnessed his weakest moment.

  He had to admit she'd been a big help, taking on a number of tasks that no one else thought to do. She'd handled most of the arrangements, asking them their preferences on everything from songs to flowers to what suit Charlie should wear.

  He didn't know what they would have done without her. But her continued presence kept his nerves on edge at the same time. When he'd brushed against her in the hall in the middle of the night, he'd wanted to pick her up and carry her to his bed, to lose himself in the comfort of her arms. Then guilt and shame had flooded in when he realized what he was thinking. He was about to bury his father, and he was lusting after a woma
n before his father was even in the ground.

  Mary Lee Sims sang "Amazing Grace" in a clear, strong voice that carried through the church, and there wasn't a dry eye in the sanctuary except for Logan's. Danny Jones told a funny story about the time Charlie had run out of gas a mile from the station and hitched a ride on Benny Larson's mule. Sheriff Dawson delivered the eulogy, praising Charlie for always standing up for what was right and for being the kind of man a neighbor could count on.

  The pastor had asked Logan before the service if he wanted to say anything about his father, but what would he have said? He only saw Charlie once a year, talked to him on the phone once a month. Their conversations had been casual, mostly Charlie asking about his business and about Katie. When it came to the end, he found he really didn't know his father very well at all.

  When the last amen had been said and the mourners began to file out of the church, Logan turned around and looked at the crowd for the first time. There were at least three hundred people, from babies to old-timers in wheelchairs. People he knew, and people he'd never seen before, all there to say good-bye to Charlie.

  Even after the way the people of Morris Springs had turned out to look for Katie, he was still amazed at the caring and compassion in the town he'd spent the last twenty years hating with every breath he took.

  Carol sobbed behind him and he turned to offer her whatever comfort he could, but Jake was already there, leading her out the side door with his arm firmly around her shoulder. He turned to Katie, but she was clinging tightly to Megan's hand, following Carol and Jake out the door. Logan walked out behind them, feeling completely alone in a sea of people.

  ***

  "Thank you so much for coming," Carol said, as yet another mourner entered the house carrying a pot roast in one hand and a pecan pie in the other. The place was filled to overflowing with people and food. At least sixty of Charlie's lifelong friends sat in the living room or stood in the kitchen or wandered the front yard, all with a story to tell about Charlie Tanner.

  Logan had endured as much as he could, but his mind and his heart were overloaded, on the verge of bursting with pain and guilt. He had to get away, get out of the house. It was rude, it was selfish, but he had to do it to preserve his sanity.

  He waited until everyone was busy greeting new arrivals, then he slipped quietly out the back door and walked swiftly down to the creek. Blue limped slowly behind him, but Logan didn't slow down. Even the damned dog made him feel guilty.

  When he reached the pond, he stopped and looked out over the water, remembering the last time he'd come out here with Megan. In her wet shirt and panties, she'd tempted him more than any other woman could. She couldn't have looked sexier if she'd been completely nude.

  He went around the pond to the shelf of rocks and climbed to the top. He sat down, one arm around Blue's neck, and dropped his head to his bent knees. And then he let the tears fall.

  When the dog pulled away and moved into the trees, he barely noticed.

  "Shh, boy. I don't want to bother him. I just need to make sure he's all right." Megan rubbed Blue's silky head and moved to the edge of the trees to peek between the branches. She saw Logan sitting on the rocks, his pain evident in the drooping shoulders and drawn face. She forgot the promise she'd made to herself to keep her distance. Logan needed her, if only to have someone to talk to.

  She waited until his shoulders stopped shaking and he rubbed a hand across his face before she stepped into the clearing, walking silently across the soft green grass. She figured the last thing he'd want was for her to see him crying again.

  Logan didn't look up until she settled down by his side. "Hi," she said quietly.

  He glanced at her, then looked back toward the pond. "Hi. Did the crowd get to you, too?"

  "No. Watching you hurt is what got to me." She put a hand on his arm and he flinched, but she left it there. She needed the physical contact, and she figured he did too. "You need to talk, Logan. Shoving your grief inside and pretending it doesn't exist won't make it go away. That's why people talk and laugh like that after a funeral. It helps them to heal."

  He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fisted hands, his gaze still focused on the water. "I know. But it hurts to hear them talk about Dad. Those people knew him better than I did, and it's my own damned fault. I only came home for Christmas, and then only because Carol insisted and because Katie needed to be with her grandfather."

  "You're being awfully hard on yourself, don't you think? I know Charlie never resented you making a life away from Morris Springs. He understood."

  Logan's head swung around and his gaze locked with hers. "What makes you think that?"

  Megan thought back to some of her conversations with Charlie. "We talked a lot. He was proud of what you'd accomplished with your business. He adored Katie and thought she was the best thing you'd ever done. He appreciated the work you were doing on the farm, but he worried that you were neglecting your career."

  She put a hand on Logan's arm again and waited to see if he'd pull away. When he didn't, she said, "He told me you were a lot like your mother. That you saw your dream and went after it the same way she did."

  Logan frowned and turned his head away, looking toward the far side of the pond. "What dream did my mother ever go after? She spent what little time she had right here on this farm, taking care of two kids and working in that damned garden."

  "Logan, did you ever stop to think that maybe that was her dream?"

  He shook his head. "No. What kind of dream is that? To work yourself into an early grave?"

  Exasperated, Megan stood and turned to go. Logan grabbed her hand and she turned back to face him. Why couldn't he understand? He seemed to have a blind spot where women were concerned. He didn't see them as individuals with hopes and dreams, but as responsibilities he needed to take care of. And with that kind of thinking, he missed so much in the way of companionship, and love.

  She pulled her hand from his. "I'm going to say one last thing, and I hope you'll think about it. A woman's dream is as important to her as a man's is to him. My dream is to have a few acres in the country, raise and train some champion Blue Heelers, and to be the best veterinarian I can be. Just because I don't dream of a corner office in a high-rise downtown building, that doesn't make my dream less important than yours."

  She took another step backwards so she could see his face." And just because your mother's dream was to be a wife and mother, to work in her garden and cook meals for her family, that doesn't mean it was a dream without value. If that's what she wanted, and that's what she had, then at least she probably died happy. Unlike you. You're working yourself into an early grave, too, at the rate you're going, but will you die happy? Will you truly be able to say you lived your dream?"

  She stepped back and turned to return to the house, to leave Logan to sort out his guilt and feelings on his own. But for a moment she'd forgotten where she was. She stepped off into empty space, her arms flailing as she fell backwards into the pond.

  Logan's heart thundered as he kicked off his shoes and jumped into the pond after Megan. He didn't wait to see if she surfaced on her own. Instinct drove him as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the surface.

  He held her as she coughed and choked until she'd cleared the water from her lungs. When her breathing returned to normal and she laid her head against his chest, he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist. They stood chest deep in the water for several minutes and he was content to do nothing more than hold her.

  Until she looked up, her green eyes smoldering, and he realized she could feel his erection against her stomach. What must she think of him? How could he bury his father, then be turned on only a few short hours later? But rather than acting repulsed by his body's reaction, she lifted her mouth to his. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted against him, he felt torn between heaven and hell.

  He needed her. He wanted to feel himself inside her and forget he'd
just buried his father, forget the raw pain that tore at his insides. He broke the kiss and buried his face against her neck. "Tell me I'm a callous fool to even think of making love to you right now."

  She ran her hands up his back and kissed the side of his neck just below his ear. "You're not a fool, Logan. And you're not callous. You're hurting, but you're still alive. You still feel. Right now you need to feel something besides the pain."

  With a groan, he kissed the hollow of her throat and ran his tongue up her neck until he claimed her mouth again. His tongue found hers and she met him thrust for thrust. His hands reached for her breasts and she moved closer as he smoothed his palm across a taut nipple, then ran his thumb across the tip.

  Her hands moved down his back to grip his buttocks and pull him closer. He felt her soft stomach press against his erection and nearly lost it, then and there. "Not here, not like this." He picked her up, one hand behind her back and the other under her knees, and carried her from the water.

  In the shelter of the trees, he set her on her feet. "Megan, if you're not sure this is what you want, tell me now."

  Megan's only response was to pull her dress over her head and drape it over the branch of a nearby tree. Her gaze locked with his as she kicked off her shoes.

  Logan didn't move, couldn't move. She was perfect, her body tight and trim, her breasts full beneath a lacy white bra. When she unhooked it and let it fall to the ground, his groin tightened painfully. Her panties followed as he stood mesmerized at his first sight of her without clothing to hide what he'd fantasized about for days.

  Blue whined and lay down on the ground next to Megan's things. Logan said one word to the dog. "Stay." Then he picked her up and carried her a few feet away and laid her in the soft grass under the shade of a hundred-year-old oak.

  He stripped out of his clothes and joined her on the ground. He wanted to wait, to make sure she was with him every step of the way, but his body wouldn't obey. He moved over her, and when she opened to him, he took what she offered.