Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Beth K. Vogt

  “I didn’t even know this was back here.”

  “It’s nothing fancy. My mom furnished it with stuff she didn’t want whenever she redecorated.”

  “It’s great. Really.”

  He chose to believe her. “I told my parents that we’d pay rent.”

  “How much?”

  “My mom said no, but my dad said if we’re old enough to get married, we’re old enough to pay rent.”

  “How much rent?”

  “A hundred dollars a month.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened. “A hundred dollars—Logan, should I get a job?”

  “I don’t know. Do you want to get a job?”

  “My parents always said going to school was my job.” Vanessa twisted her hands together. “But now that we’re married . . . and paying rent . . . and paying for my tuition . . .”

  “We’re applying for loans, remember? And let’s not worry about that tonight. I’ll start bringing my stuff from the house, and you can start unpacking your suitcases. My mom said there are linens in the bathroom—sheets and towels. And then later we’ll go buy some groceries.”

  “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Hollister!”

  His little sister blew into the tiny house, wearing a red bandanna over her double braids and hauling a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Setting it down, she threw her arms around Logan and then repeated the embrace with Vanessa, turning her around in a happy dance. “I couldn’t believe it when Mom told me! Are you two really married?”

  “Yep.” For the first time since telling their parents, a smile crossed Logan’s face. “You really think Mom would make up something like that?”

  Caron bounced up and down and hugged Vanessa again. “This is so cool! Of course, I wish I’d had the chance to be a bridesmaid or something. I could have thrown you a bridal shower.”

  “We’re good.”

  “I should say!” She kept an arm around Vanessa. “Did you know Audrey Blake keeps waiting for you and Logan to break up so she can date him?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Vanessa’s laughter joined Caron’s, pushing back the heaviness that had shadowed them from Vanessa’s parents’ home.

  “Oh, yeah. She’s wanted to date Logan forever—and then you came along and got him. And now you’re married. She’s gonna die when you two show up at school on Monday wearing—” She lifted Vanessa’s left hand. “Where’s your ring?”

  Vanessa tucked her hand into the pocket of her cutoffs. “We didn’t have time . . .”

  “What kind of husband are you, Logan?” Caron rounded on him, brandishing a feather duster. “Go get your wife a wedding ring.”

  His wife.

  “I thought we should unpack and get settled here first.”

  “You can do that anytime.”

  Vanessa defended him, slipping her hand into his. “It’s okay, Caron. We can do it another time—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t! Get out of here and go shopping.” She shooed them toward the door. “I’ll start cleaning while you’re gone.”

  His sister was right—what kind of husband was he? He was about to let his wife—his wife—walk into school on Monday wearing his class ring as some sort of jury-rigged version of a wedding band.

  “Come on, Vanessa. Let’s go.”

  Vanessa hung back. “We don’t have to do this—”

  “I want to do this. Let’s go.” He winked at his sister. “Thanks, Caro.”

  “You’re welcome, big brother. Have fun. And welcome to the family, Vanessa.”

  FIFTEEN

  If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

  —FREDERICK DOUGLASS (CA. 1818–1895), LEADER OF THE ABOLITIONIST MOVEMENT

  The parking lot at the sports arena was starting to empty out. Logan wove the battered rental car through the stream of people making their way from the building to their cars, pulling into a row of vacant parking spaces.

  “People must be eager to get home and find out what kind of damage they’re dealing with.” Vanessa unbuckled her seat belt. “Can’t blame them.”

  “Most, if not all, of them are probably going home to no electricity for at least the next twenty-four hours.” Logan motioned to some people cleaning up shattered glass from blown-out car windows. “And quite a few are going to deal with stuff like that before they go anywhere.”

  “True. But I’m thinking a lot of people are saying, We’re alive, and that’s the most important thing.”

  “Agreed.” Stepping out of the car, he ran his hand along the scarred hood. “It’s going to be interesting turning this back in to the rental agency in a couple of days.”

  Vanessa shaded her eyes with her hands as she scanned the parking lot. “Don’t remind me. I’ll be doing the same thing before I leave—and, no, I didn’t purchase the extra insurance.”

  “You want me to go with you while you take a look?”

  “No, thanks. I want to check on the Wrights first. I appreciate your team staying with them, but I never expected to be gone overnight.” The air around them was overloaded with humidity. “And I want to report to the medical team, too.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s go find the group, and then while you check in with the medical team, I’ll take Brady to check out your car.”

  “Logan, you don’t have to do that.”

  “You can’t take the Wrights home if Cressida blew out your car windows, can you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re not the only one who drank lemonade on the Wrights’ back porch, you know.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you forgotten Mr. Wright’s crazy bird that used to sit on my head?”

  “No—do you remember all the times Mr. Wright laughed and said, ‘Nice hat, Logan’?”

  “Yeah, and I said, ‘Thank you, sir. I got it special-order from Australia.’ ”

  “And he laughed every single time.”

  “Indeed he did.”

  Just as they entered the arena, laughter flowing between them, Vanessa’s cell phone buzzed.

  “Oh, sorry. It must be—” Vanessa checked the phone. “—Ted . . . wanting to know if I’m okay.”

  “Surprising he got through. You probably want to take that.”

  “Yes.” Vanessa stayed back at the doors.

  “Go ahead—I’ll find Jules and the guys.”

  “And the Wrights.”

  “Yes—them, too.”

  “Tell them I’ll be right there—”

  Logan backed away. “Sure thing.”

  Vanessa covered her ear with one hand as she answered the phone, hoping to shut out the noise all around her. “Hello?”

  “Vanessa? Are you okay, babe?”

  Ted’s voice was a precious bit of normal after twenty-four hours when her life had spun out of control. Vanessa closed her eyes, blocking the sight of Logan disappearing into the crowd milling around the arena floor.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “I’m heading home from the hospital. I’ve been following the hurricane all night while I’ve been on call. I know that, despite the earlier forecast, it only came as a Category 2, but still it must have been frightening.”

  “Especially when you’re driving in it—” She covered her mouth with her hand. Why had she said that?

  “What? You were out in the storm?”

  Vanessa imagined Ted, driving his black BMW sedan he had detailed once a year. She never worried when Ted drove—he maintained the speed limit as meticulously as he maintained the interior and the engine of his car. For him, a hurricane warning would mean seeking shelter, nothing more.

  “Yes—transporting a critically ill boy to the hospital so he could have surgery.”

  “Vanessa—why would you do something like that?”

  “It was necessary to save his life. And it’s over. And I’m safe.”

  “But what if something had happened?”

  “Well, nothing did—and the boy is recovering.” Vanessa climbed the stairs to the first row of stadium
seats, lowering her body into the one on the end. Why did she have to defend her actions to Ted? He was a doctor—he understood saving lives. Or he should. “It makes it all worthwhile.”

  “So what’s happening now?”

  “Well, you’re watching the news, so you probably know more than I do.” She leaned her elbows on her knees. All around her, people dismantled cots and rolled up sleeping bags. Industrial-sized trash cans positioned around the arena overflowed with garbage. “I’m just getting back to the shelter. I spent the night at the hospital on Eglin Air Force Base. We had to take the boy there, because Twin Cities Hospital’s generators weren’t functioning. They’re letting people leave the shelter now, so I just need to find out how the rental car survived the storm and then get the Wrights back home.”

  “The Wrights?”

  “Oh. I forgot to mention them.” She rubbed her eyes, which were gritty with lack of sleep. “The Wrights are an older couple who were our neighbors when my family lived here. I took them to the shelter with me.”

  “Vanessa, you are not responsible for everyone in Niceville.”

  “No. No, I’m not. But the Wrights were like my adopted grandparents. I wasn’t going to leave them in their house with a hurricane heading for the Panhandle.”

  Why was she having to explain this to Ted, too?

  “And once you take them home, then what?”

  “Well, I imagine the Wrights’ daughter will come get her parents and take them to Alabama. And I’ll get on my flight home—”

  Ted interrupted her. “Not right away, you won’t.”

  “What?”

  “According to the news reports, Fort Walton Beach Airport is closed for at least the next twenty-four hours, maybe longer.”

  Vanessa’s shoulders slumped, and she rested her head on her arms. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead—sleep-deprived, I guess.”

  “And you won’t be able to go back to the island.”

  Vanessa needed to sit up. And she would—in a minute. “I can only imagine what Destin looks like.”

  “Some hotels are completely destroyed. And there’s all sorts of debris on the beach.”

  “Of course there is.”

  She needed to think. To figure out how she was getting back to Colorado. But any residual adrenaline from yesterday’s crazy adventure had disappeared. She couldn’t get back to Denver—and she had no place to go in Florida. What was she going to do?

  “You want me to start calling around to see if I can find a hotel room for you?”

  “Good luck with that. Everyone else is going to be doing the same thing. Ugh. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

  “Maybe you could stay at the Wrights’?”

  “Maybe—but I really hope Ruth, their daughter, will drive down and get them. One of the first things I want to do is have Mrs. Wright call her. They shouldn’t be living on their own. And besides, I doubt they’ll have electricity.” Vanessa forced herself to sit up. “Maybe Mindy has room for me. It’s worth a try.”

  “You want me to come down there?”

  “Oh, Ted, that’s sweet—but no. Like you said, the airport isn’t open—and won’t be for another day or so. Let me see what I can do. I’ll help the Wrights. Talk to Mindy. And I’ll call you later.”

  Vanessa pocketed her phone, standing to her feet and scanning the arena. Within seconds she found Julie and Max, gathering up their supplies as the Wrights sat in the two camp chairs. Logan and Brady were nowhere in sight—probably checking on her rental car—which made it easier for her to go and talk to the Wrights.

  Not that she was avoiding Logan.

  She plopped back down in the chair.

  Yes, she was.

  Being around Logan felt like she was running from one end of an emotional teeter-totter to the other. Up. Down. Too close to one side and she was going to crash to the ground . . .

  It was like inhaling adrenaline. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed being with him. She’d forgotten how Logan made scary things—like learning to drive his motorcycle or staying outside when it was raining and lightning—exciting. The way he challenged her—made life more daring, more wide open—all the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.

  Although she’d never said the words out loud.

  Never once in all the months they’d dated . . . never once in the months they’d been married, had she ever said, I love you, Logan.

  Had that made walking away from him—from their marriage—easier? Had she somehow protected herself, protected some hidden part of her heart, by not saying I love you?

  Had Logan even noticed? He’d spoken the words so freely himself. And he never asked her why . . . never said, “I love you,” and then waited for her to respond in kind.

  She said, “I love you,” to Ted, but if she was honest, it almost felt the same as when she said “hello” or “goodbye” to him—casual, everyday phrases used in conversation.

  She’d grown up and learned “I love you” was the appropriate response whether you felt the emotion or not.

  Vanessa pushed out of the seat again. Stretched her back. Pulled the elastic band free from her ponytail and restyled it, all the while standing still as others packed up their belongings and left the shelter.

  God, I don’t want to be here.

  Not here in Florida.

  Here—stuck between my past and my future. Stuck between Logan and Ted. I love Ted. You brought him into my life, right? I know you don’t like divorce—but it’s not the unforgivable sin. And I’m ready to be married again. It’s not as if Logan and I can recapture what we had—whatever that was.

  She shook her head. This train of thought—this prayer—was getting her nowhere—except pulled into dangerous territory. Again.

  Time to call Mindy. Make plans for where she was staying tonight and then make sure the Wrights were set for tonight, too—and get as far from Logan Hollister as possible.

  • • •

  Logan followed the spicy aroma of chili as it lured him into his parents’ backyard like an invisible, soundless Pied Piper. Unexpected company the day after Hurricane Cressida, which, for all her huffing and puffing, had arrived as a Category 2? Fine. As far as his mother was concerned, she now had a reason to throw an impromptu dinner party for his team.

  Of course, thanks to his father’s foresight, they weren’t struggling with a lack of electricity and food thawing in the freezers. No, the backup generator in the garage ensured the Hollister family continued living in relative comfort. They’d need to clear out a few fallen trees, but none of those trees were near the house, so they didn’t need to haul out the chain saws tonight—much to Brady’s disappointment.

  “Hey, big brother.” Caron handed him a cold can of Coke. “Mother told me to deliver this—and yes, I brought you a slice of lemon.”

  “Thanks.” Logan popped the top, just the sound of the metallic click causing his mouth to water. “Just what I needed.”

  “So, Julie’s been regaling me with your hurricane adventure.”

  “My what?”

  “She told me that Vanessa was at the shelter—and that the two of you transported a very sick boy to Eglin Air Force Base Hospital.”

  “Oh. That.” Logan slipped the wedge of lemon into the can before tossing back a gulp of soda.

  “Oh. That.” Caron mimicked his tone with a grimace and a shake of her head. “Really? You see your ex-wife for the first time in eight years and help her rescue someone from drowning. Then you run into her again during the hurricane—and take a casual drive through the storm. You spend the night together. And that’s all you have to say?”

  “We did not spend the night together. And yes, that’s all I have to say.”

  Caron positioned herself in front of him, blocking his escape. “So how is my ex-sister-in-law?”

  “She’s getting married again.”

  “What?” Caron’s blue eyes, so like his own, widened.

  “You heard me. She’s here plann
ing her destination wedding for next April.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “How do I feel—” Logan gulped down another swallow of soda. “What are you, Caro? A shrink?”

  “I’m your sister—and I happen to know you’re still in love with Vanessa.”

  “Really? I think you’re just a hopeless romantic. Does Alex know your e-reader is loaded with romance novels? That when it comes to movies you prefer Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping over Speed ?”

  “I don’t see you getting remarried, Logan. As a matter of fact, I don’t hear any mention of you dating anyone—ever.” Caron poked two fingers into his chest. “Why is that? Wait—I know. It’s because you’re still in love with your ex-wife.”

  “It’s been eight years, little sister. Eight years. We’re done.”

  “But she’s back in Florida—and you’re back in Florida—”

  “And she’s engaged. To be married.”

  “Fine. Be that way.”

  “Be what way? Smart?”

  “So where’s she staying while she’s here?” Caron relaxed her stance, but that didn’t fool him.

  “Why?”

  “We were friends, too, you know. I might want to say hello.”

  “Caro, you haven’t talked to Vanessa since she and I divorced.”

  “That doesn’t mean I haven’t missed her. Where is she?”

  “Where is who?” Julie joined them, carrying a plate of homemade guacamole and chips.

  “Vanessa Hollister, Logan’s ex-wife.”

  “Oh, she was going to get the Wrights home and then go stay with her friend Mindy.”

  Logan shook his head. “And you know this because?”

  “Because, unlike you, I asked her what she was going to do when she left the shelter today.” Julie shrugged. “She wanted to make certain the Wrights’ house was okay. Said she was afraid they might have some downed trees.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprising.” Logan swiped one of her chips. “I hope there’s no major damage.”

  “We could go over there tomorrow and check on them.”