by Garcia, Rita
The heaviness on my chest eased up. If my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, Maggie and Sam were staring at me from the doorway. They tiptoed closer. Maggie touched my arm. “You were shot in the chest and in the leg last night. You’re going to be fine. Sam’s here, too.”
“Logan, I’m right here.” How did a sick man still have a soft voice send shock waves through him? Sam started to take my hand and pulled away. I tried to lift my hand but it felt like a lead weight on the end of my arm.
A shoe squeak signaled Evelyn’s return. “Okay, visiting time’s up.”
“We can sit—”
“Doc’s orders. Everyone out.” Evelyn placed a blood pressure cuff on my arm. “Rest, and you’ll be up a whole lot sooner.”
I discovered I hated a cheerful voice when I felt like I’d been beaten up by that Chuck guy and Arnold—what’s his name? “What’s the prognosis?”
“Doc will be later, to answer your questions. If you need the bedpan, push this button.” She handed me a plastic gadget attached to a cord.
“I’m perfectly able to walk down the hall.”
“You can’t get out of bed until Doc gives the okay. Call me if you need anything.”
“Great. I’ve been assigned Nurse Ratched.” Evelyn tossed a grin over her shoulder. She had no sooner left than I heard footsteps—minus the squeak.
“Shh. I’m not supposed to be in here.”
Were the meds playing tricks or was Sam actually here? Whichever, it was my kind of a dream.
She slipped her fingers through my hair and leaned closer. Her tears fell onto the sheet. “You scared me—I could have lost you last night.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I touched the wet tracks on her cheeks.
She whispered a kiss across my lips. “I need to go before I get thrown out again.”
“Take care of Maggie.” Not sure she caught it, but she had smiled and glanced back before leaving the room. My pulse reacted—definitely a good sign.
I slept after Sam left, only to wake up to Doc’s deep gravelly voice and Evelyn’s inherently efficient one.
“Good. You’re awake.” Doc raised my eyelids and shone a light in each eye. “How’s the pain level?”
“Mack truck’s gone. Not up to running marathons.” I attempted to scoot up higher in the bed—bad idea.
Doc touched my shoulder. “Take it easy. We’ll have you up later this evening.”
“When can I go home?”
“Typical.” Evelyn chuckled.
Doc flipped through the pages of my chart. “Five. Six days. Need to watch for complications and swelling. You took a nasty hit to the chest.”
“My leg—is it—?” My body tensed, increasing the pain.
“It’ll be sore for a while. Might limp a few weeks.” Doc flipped my chart closed and handed it to Evelyn. I’d watched him do this often—my first time as the patient—I didn’t want to make it a habit.
Evelyn straightened my blankets. “Maggie and Samantha are waiting to see you. This will be their last visit for today. And don’t think I missed Samantha sneaking in earlier—even I can’t interfere with—” She let the words hang and I didn’t encourage her. I heard heavier footsteps and looked up.
“Hey, Logan,” Pastor Jim called as he came in to the room and dragged a chair closer to the bed.
“Hello, Pastor.” Evelyn greeted my visitor and strolled out of the room.
“The whole church is praying for you.” He crossed one leg over the other and held his Bible on his knee. “We held a special prayer service, as soon as we heard.”
“Appreciate the prayers. Not sure I’m on His good list.”
“God doesn’t quit on us, son. We may give up on Him for a season—He never gives up on us. Have you thought your life may have been spared for a reason?” He raised his Bible. “He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
“Sorry, Pastor, I’m running short on faith today.”
“I have orders to keep my visit short. May I pray with you?” He didn’t leave space for a reply. “Father, we come before You with thankful hearts. Lord, I pray that You restore Your servant to perfect health. There is a reason You chose to spare Logan’s life. Please reveal Your purpose to him. Amen.” He shook my hand. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow.” I’m sure he knew he’d left behind questions—ones not easily answered.
Chapter Thirty-one
Too many pieces of the puzzle remain elusive. It’s difficult holding on to the ones I have because the unknown overshadows the known. Logan’s coming home tomorrow—that’s a good thing. I’m eager to spend time with him. The more I stress to make sense of my kaleidoscope thoughts, the more they feel like random craziness. ~ Journal entry
“Come on, baby. We’re picking up Maggie and making sure everything’s ready for Logan’s homecoming.” Goldie caught my excitement, and jumped into the SUV, whipping her tail against the seat.
The drive along the coast worked its magic. Thick cumulus clouds hung low over a penetrating blue sky, while the sea filled the air with its tangy smells. Overhead, a flock of seagulls flew in formation. I pulled off the road and grabbed my camera. I adjusted the lens and quickly snapped a few shots—hoping for a great one I could interpret with a brush and canvas. We hurried back into the SUV, knowing Maggie was waiting.
La Dama De Blanca appeared. With minimal effort, it could touch the whipped cream mounds floating above. I rounded the curve and veered into the herringbone driveway leading to the Lady in White. Maggie waited with her bag hooked over one shoulder. I hurried to help her load the baskets sitting at her feet.
“You’ve been busy. All of this from someone who claims she can’t cook.” The aroma of fresh baked bread tantalized my stomach—I realized I hadn’t bothered with breakfast. “These sweet aromas are making me hungry.”
She handed me a turnover as she scooted into the passenger seat. “Fresh from the oven.”
One taste, I almost purred with delight. “Oh, this is good.” I savored the sweet, juicy apples inside a tender crust. I wiped smudges from the corners of my mouth and licked syrupy cinnamon from the tip of my finger.
She placed a drink in the cup holder. I slurped the warm liquid and reversed out of her driveway. “Actually, I baked Logan some of his childhood favorites. Dorthea, his housekeeper, wouldn’t be happy if I tried to interfere with the cooking. She adores Logan.”
We arrived and unloaded. Logan’s guesthouse, which he preferred over the main house, was the best place for him to recoup. The steps up to Maggie’s porch would’ve been too difficult to maneuver with an injured leg. I’d take the day shift and she would take nights. Maggie swept from room to room, inspecting minuscule details.
“It’s larger than it looks from the outside. A family could live here.” I peeked into several rooms. “Two of the bedrooms have sitting rooms attached.”
“My grandparents enjoyed entertaining. They designed the guesthouse to create privacy for their guests.”
“When my parents entertained, they put their guests up in a hotel. Dinners were held in the establishment’s dining rooms. Though I never heard anyone complain, and invitations to the grand parties they threw were coveted.”
“Not a bad idea. You don’t have to be concerned with everyone’s comfort.” Maggie continued her scrutiny as we chatted.
“The majority of their entertaining was business related. The few occasions I recall it being personal were for milestone birthdays or anniversaries.” Attended by other club members or business acquaintances—not friends of mine. I lowered my eyes. I hadn’t intended to tarnish their memory. My parents had loved me, and they’d certainly provided for me. The intimacy I missed had never equated with neglect.
We traipsed into the garden. Maggie picked up shears and began snipping a variety of flowers. “I tend to Logan’s garden each week.” She smiled, looking as at home in his garden as her own. The plants and flowers seemed eager to bloom and flourish for her, like an orchestra following the conducto
r’s baton.
She glanced up. “A few stems will brighten the rooms.”
I checked the time on my phone. “Thelma said his release should be completed by ten—it’s after nine.”
“You’re in a hurry to get him home.” She grinned, much like the mischievous Cheshire Cat, who to Alice’s dismay was both endearing and roguish. “You two are quite a match.”
“Except we’re not you two. We’re friends.” I’d wanted more for longer than I’d been willing to admit.
She rolled her eyes. “If you believe that—I have some ocean property in the desert. Just saying…” She took a final survey of the house. “Let’s go get your friend.” She did a graceful soft shoe and giggled.
At the hospital, I parked near the front doors in a zone marked for patient pickup. The doors opened and Thelma pushed the wheelchair where Logan sat, his face scrunched into a frown.
“Oh, he doesn’t look happy.” Maggie stated the obvious.
Maggie climbed into the back seat so Logan could sit in the front. Thelma helped settle him inside the SUV and secured his seatbelt. “Don’t you be giving your sister as much trouble as you’ve been wielding around this hospital. Can’t say I’m sorry to see you going home—I’d be lying.” His forced laughter lingered as she pushed the wheelchair back through the double doors.
The ride home reminded me of clouds rolling in before a torrential rainfall. If this was a clue what we were in for, I wanted to withdraw my offer to help.
The first two days were a struggle of nightmarish proportions. Day three dawned and I hoped it meant a charmed morning lay ahead. I turned in to the driveway with Goldie in her usual seat. Maggie stormed down the walkway beside the main house as we climbed out of the SUV.
“Good luck. He’s worse. Hates the food. Hates every show on television. Hates any movie I put on for him. Don’t make the mistake of trying to give him his meds.” She stomped to her car. I hadn’t seen the feathers ruffled side of Maggie before, and one thing I knew, I never wanted her ire directed at me. If the way she sped away served as an indication—Logan’s mood was contagious.
“Well Goldie, if your Aunt Maggie can’t handle him—we’re in for another fun day.”
I found Logan staring out the window. “Come with Goldie and me to the bluff.” He’d been cooped up and getting out of the house might help his moodiness.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll overdo it? Do you realize how cool it is out on the cliffs?” He’d clomped away, as much as possible with an injured leg. Goldie perked up her ears as a vibration carried through the house. Apparently, he’d slammed his bedroom door.
“Okay, baby, I’ll take you outside.” Goldie pawed at my leg, and I spun around.
“Are we going or what?” Logan yanked up the zipper on his jacket.
“You go ahead. I’ll be right there.” I filled a thermos and grabbed a blanket and made it to the bluff by the time he did.
I spread the cover on the ground. Once he’d settled on it, I put a pillow under his injured leg, and handed him a mug with steam rising from the dark liquid.
He closed his eyes—I hoped the balmy air blowing across the waves and tantalizing the skin did its job. “You need anything?” He shook his head. If words had crossed his lips, I didn’t catch them. I wanted his deep brown eyes to open, and reflect the depth of the man I knew—the man who had stolen my heart. My personal struggles had paled in comparison to Logan getting well—emotionally and physically. If I used his mental state as a barometer, getting shot had pierced more than his flesh.
I drew my knees against my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
He rubbed the spot where the bullet had entered his skin. “A larger caliber gun, I might not have a leg. When I think how I botched—”
Father, I don’t know how to respond. “I’m thankful you’ve come this far with the healing process.”
“What heals the inside? I failed, when it mattered most.” His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh.
“All we can do is take each day as it comes.” I sat facing him with my arms still hugged around my legs.
“Do I deal with the nightmares one night at a time?” He stood and stumbled. I jumped up to help—he brushed me away. “The sad thing is I never saw myself as a weak man—until now.” He limped toward the house. I lagged behind to give him a head start, not wanting to call attention to how slowly he moved.
Back inside, I peered through the open door of his bedroom. He lay on his bed, facing the other way. I curled up against his back and held him. “Night turns darkest at the edge of dawn.” When I felt a change in his breathing, I eased off the bed to let him rest.
To pass the time, I sat and read. When Maggie waltzed in sooner than I expected, I breathed a sigh of gladness.
“Hi there. Care to share a cuppa before you head home?”
“Sure. You’re early.” Truthfully, I wanted to leave.
“Linda agreed to work extra hours for a few days.” She measured the loose tea into half of a shiny silver ball and reconnected it with the other half.
“He’s been napping most of the day.”
“Good. He needs the rest.”
“Do I hear my name being bantered about?” He came into the kitchen, his hair disheveled and looking as though a shower would turn him a few shades lighter. Not to mention the dark thick stubble covering his jaws and neck.
“Only with love, brother dear.” Maggie rolled her eyes.
“I’ll take a rain check if you don’t mind. I have a few errands I’ve been putting off.” I reached for my bag and Goldie’s leash. We started down the pathway, Goldie stopped and I followed the direction of her gaze.
Logan stood at the beginning of the sidewalk. “Thanks for today.”
“You’ve been there for me since the frenzied night I arrived in Serenity Cove. Take it easy on Maggie tonight. And, Logan, a shower might be good.” I watched as he pivoted and went inside.
Maggie had talked with Doc. Logan’s emotional lows were not unusual for someone recovering from these types of injuries. It would most likely disappear as quickly as it had started. What if the bullet had entered his chest a smidgen higher? I rubbed my arms to warm the chilling bumps. There was that too familiar what if game using my mind as a playground, again. I shook my head and headed to Main Street.
I parked the SUV in front of the bookshop and strolled to Rubi’s Diner. I pulled up on a stool, in dire need of an old-fashioned chocolate shake. Tiffani set the tall frosty glass in front of me with the icy foam overflowing on the side. I dipped the long spoon into the creamy goodness when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned.
“Hi, Samantha. May I talk to you?” Lilyan’s Aunt Claire took the seat next to me.
“Sure, can I order you something?”
“I’m fine. I want to apologize again. If I’d been honest with myself and with Lilyan—she might still be here. Instead she found a way to…to stop the anguish.”
“None of us realized the extent of her illness.” I touched her hand. “The day of her services was a difficult day, especially for you.”
“Logan’s right. You are sweet and kind.” She slipped off the chair and turned to leave.
“I’d love to buy you a shake.”
She sat back down. “Vanilla, please.”
Thelma and Julia came in and I waved them over. “Have a seat. Shakes are on me.”
“Let’s move this party to a larger area.” Thelma waved us over to a booth. “How’s Logan?” Thelma said, between handing out instructions where to sit.
“Cantankerous.” I tossed her a grin—I hadn’t wanted her to think I’d voiced a complaint. I wanted Logan to get well—to be the outgoing and take-charge kind of man I’d met my first day in town.
“Means he’s getting better.” She reached down and ruffled the fur on Goldie’s head.
We scooted into one of the larger half-circle booths. I tried to follow the three of them as they carried on—obviously, not strangers to the
Serenity Cove gossip chain.
Tiffani served the shakes—a frosty glass filled with vanilla to Claire, a chocolate to Julia, and a strawberry to Thelma.
Thelma waved toward the door. Rachel had come in.
“Hiya, Rachel, come join us.” Thelma motioned Tiffani back over.
“Sit here.” I slid out of the booth and Rachel scooted to the inside, so I could sit on the outside with Goldie.
Rachel and I barely exchanged hellos before Thelma continued filling in the blanks. Like working a crossword puzzle, she made sure all words, both across and down, were completed. “Rachel and Brandon both attended school with Maggie and Logan, along with my children.”
When Thelma stopped to take a breath, Julia picked up the gauntlet. “Rachel and Brandon were voted prom king and queen their senior year. They got married the summer after they’d graduated from high school, a real life happy-ever-after story.”
I rested my eyes on Rachel. She didn’t look thrilled with having her life served as freely as Tiffani had handed out the shakes. The sadness in her eyes said some secrets remained hidden, even from the watchful eyes of Thelma and Julia. I’d already gotten the impression, that evening at Woody’s, that Brandon might have a problem with alcohol. I caught the movement of Thelma’s lips.
“Heard Audra and her husband Steve are revamping the old Donnelly place.” Thelma spooned a taste of the strawberry cream.
Julia chimed in. “Isn’t she the granddaughter?”
“She’s the daughter of their grandson—she’d be a great-granddaughter.” Claire worked to pull a taste through her straw, but quickly resorted to using her spoon.
The chatter and laughter picked up speed, and lip-reading from person to person made it difficult to keep up with the flow of conversation. But I loved being a part of it. This impromptu girlfriend gathering wouldn’t have happened in Stone Valley.
Julia caught my eye. “I heard Audra wants to lease the bookshop and turn it into a real estate office, or some such nonsense.”
“We talked. I’d prefer to sell it as a bookshop.” While I had the group’s attention, I leaped in. “Do any of you know a family by the name of Cunningham?”
