Logan cleared his throat not once but twice before he spoke. “I guess your mother told you about our conversation last evening. I understand your feelings. Now, I would like you to understand mine. I want all three of you to close your eyes and imagine, if you can, some doctor telling you that your life is coming to an end in mere months. If you have trouble imagining yourself being on the receiving end of such news, try imagining you are hearing it about your spouse or one of your children. The first emotion you experience is total, blind panic, then disbelief. You ask yourself how it can be? You feel fine, you look fine, but you’re going to die. You’ll never see the sun come up again. You’ll never feel wind in your face, rain droplets on your head or walk through snow or smell burning leaves. I imagine other people think different things. I’m telling you what went through my mind. I wasn’t going to be able to send the three of you off to college, watch you graduate and get married, walk the hospital floors while you waited for your child to be delivered.
“Your mother can verify that I was on some very strong medication. For most of my life I’ve taken medication for my kidneys. In my case it had an adverse effect on me. I’m sorry to say I took it out on the three of you. For whatever it’s worth, I apologize. I wasn’t myself. I’ve always loved you. I guess I didn’t show it the way you wanted me to. As for your mother, she’s always been the wind beneath my wings.
“Cutting to the chase here, I got this cockamamie idea that just maybe I could buy myself a kidney somewhere. I knew it would take a lot of money. The costs of the treatments were outrageous. Yes, I took the money. I took it for two reasons. One to see if I could heal myself and the other to make my death a little easier. I didn’t want to be a burden to any of you, especially your mother. It did not work. That’s the bottom line. The money is intact, plus interest. I apologize for that also. All I did those eight years was go from country to country, from specialist to specialist. I didn’t get any better, and I didn’t get any worse. In the end all I could do was wait for my time.”
Kristine stared at the hanging fern over the sink. She mentally charted all the tiny leaves that were on the verge of turning yellow from the drafty old window. She wanted to feel something for the man sitting across the table from her but couldn’t conjure up anything at all where he was concerned. She brought her gaze back to Logan, who was lighting a cigarette.
“Not too long ago I went for another checkup. The news this time was deadly. Three specialists confirmed the first doctor’s opinion. They recommended a kidney specialist in Washington. I’ve seen him twice now. Dialysis is all I have going for me. I’m on a donor list, but so far down it isn’t the least bit hopeful. That’s pretty much my story.
“I asked your mother if I could come back here to spend my last days. She pretty much laughed in my face. I can’t say that I blame her. I thought with what little time I had left, I could try and make amends, help out a little. I have no intention of getting in anyone’s way or interfering in your lives. I realize you all made new lives for yourselves. Eight years is a long time. In my case, almost an eternity. I guess it simply never occurred to me that you wouldn’t want me. I do understand, though. So, now that I’ve said my piece, I guess I’ll shovel out my truck and be on my way. It really was nice seeing you all again. You know, you look like a jury sitting there. You’re judging me. I guess you’re entitled to do that. I would like to leave you with a thought. Until you walk in shoes like mine, don’t ever be judgmental.”
Logan rose from the table and buckled slightly; the knuckles of his hand grasping the table edge turned white. Tyler grabbed for him. “Sorry about that. I can’t sit for long periods of time. Kristine, do you know where my jacket is?”
“No, I don’t know, Logan. Maybe Carol hung it in the closet. I’ll ask her.”
“Don’t bother, Mom. We decided Dad can stay,” Mike said. “I’m going to help Cala bring the dogs in the apartment over here. We’ll clean it up and get it ready. You can move in this afternoon.”
“You don’t want me in the house, is that what you’re saying?”
“No, Logan, that’s not what they’re saying. It’s what I’m saying. I would never turn you away. That doesn’t mean I owe you anything other than civility and common decency. You can take your meals here. Everything you need is in the apartment. You can do your own cooking if you want to. I’m a health-food nut and I know you are a meat and potatoes man.”
Logan sighed. “Not anymore, Kristine. Is there anything I can do for any of you before I settle in over there?”
Kristine stared at her children, aware that a blowup was about to happen. Mike stood up as did Tyler. When both boys were eyeball-to-eyeball with their father, Kristine saw him flinch. She saw something in Logan’s eyes she’d never seen before and couldn’t put a name to it. These were no longer little boys. Today Mike and Tyler were grown men with responsibilities much like Logan himself had been when he was their age.
What she was seeing on her ex-husband’s face was fear. Fear of dying or fear of his sons? The latter she decided. The realization shocked her.
They were whispering but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Obviously, Cala couldn’t hear either. She rolled her eyes in her mother’s direction. Kristine nodded, the headache still pounding inside her head. I wish you were here, Woodie. It’s not right that you’re alone on Christmas. I want to be with you. I need to be with you, but I can’t turn my back on a dying man—a man I once loved who happens to be the father of my children, no matter what he’s done. I just can’t do that, Woodie.
“You have one of those headaches, don’t you, Mom?” Cala said.
“A little one. I was going to go upstairs and take some aspirin.”
“We can manage here. Go ahead, Mom. While you’re up there, call Woodie. I bet that will make your headache go away,” Cala whispered.
“I might try that as a last resort,” Kristine said wanly.
“Hon?”
“Please don’t call me that, Logan. What?”
“I want to thank you for ... intervening with the kids. I won’t get in your way.” Kristine nodded curtly before she left the room.
Outside the kitchen, life appeared to be normal. Emily was still pulling the dogs around in the red wagon, Ellie was pushing Gracie and Slick in her doll buggy, while Carol was struggling with a jigsaw puzzle. Jack was reading what looked like a two-pound book of instructions for a VCR while Pete rolled on the floor with a golden retriever named Goliath bent on chewing at his ear. Kristine waved halfheartedly as she made her way up the steps.
In the safety of her room, with the door locked, she blew her nose with gusto before picking up the phone to call Woodie. This time he didn’t answer on the first ring. She was about to hang up when finally she heard his voice.
“Woodie. I miss you. This . . . I didn’t think anything could be worse than that first Christmas, but I was wrong. I need you, Woodie. I need you to tell me this is all right. Please. I don’t know if I have the stamina to handle this. The kids . . . the kids said he could stay. It is so bizarre, so unreal. I keep thinking I’m dreaming, and I know I’m not. I want it to be a nightmare so bad I can taste the feeling.”
“Did you tell him about us, Kristine?”
“No, Woodie, I didn’t. It wasn’t the right time. I will tell him, though.”
“When it comes to Logan, Kristine, it is never the right time for anything. We’ve been through this twice already, and I don’t intend to go through it again. You need to take a stand. We can still get married. We can live at my house. You can drive to the farm every day to take care of business. You can certainly hire nurses to take care of your ex-husband when and if that becomes necessary. I really hate to ask this, but what are you and Jack going to do after New Year’s? Are you still going to go through with your plans?”
“Woodie, I don’t know. Would you please put yourself in my place for just a little while. If the situation were reversed and it was your ex-wife in the same circumsta
nces as Logan, I wouldn’t say a word.”
“Kristine, you threw a fancy fit when you thought I was seeing her that day in the parking lot. You were ready to cut me out of your life without even giving me a chance to explain.”
“I was jealous. I wasn’t in a good place at the time, Woodie.”
“This might surprise you, Kristine, but I’m not in a good place right now. We’re just dogging this to death. You’re trenching in, and so am I. One of us has to bend, and it isn’t going to be me.”
“Is that an ultimatum, Woodie? You did that to me once before, and we wasted four years of our lives.”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Kristine. I asked you to marry me. You accepted. Now you’re telling me you want to postpone the wedding. Eight years, Kristine. Don’t you find that a little strange?”
“Of course I do.”
“Logan could live ten more years. They’re making tremendous medical strides every day. For his sake, I hope he does live ten more years, but not at my expense.”
“Are you saying we’re finished, that you’re dumping me?”
“I guess I am saying that unless you change your mind. You aren’t going to do that, so I think I’ll say good-bye.”
“Woodie, please don’t . . . Woodie!”
Kristine crawled into bed. She was too tired, too drained to shed another tear. “It is what it is,” she whimpered as she clutched at her pillow. A moment later she was sound asleep.
Logan looked around the small apartment that was now neat and tidy. He could handle this. While the furnishings were old and shabby, they were clean and comfortable. There was even a thirteen-inch color television set perched on a small table in the living room. A fire burned steadily in the fieldstone fireplace.
Logan opened the old-fashioned refrigerator. A bottle of wine, a brick of cheese, and three apples along with soft drinks filled the shelves on the door. He looked for a telephone, but there was none in sight. There was a small radio alarm clock in the bedroom but no sign of a telephone jack anywhere to be seen. That was okay, he had his cell phone. The only problem was, he had no one to call.
A nap would be good since he’d barely closed his eyes during the night.
Logan bounced on the bed. It was comfortable. He propped up the down pillows and laced his hands behind his head. He’d pulled it off, he thought smugly. Maybe he hadn’t totally pulled it off. Mike’s eyes were suspicious, and the hissing words he’d whispered in his ear had turned his blood cold. Tyler’s eyes had been cold, but he was giving the old man the benefit of the doubt. What was it his son had said to him? Like he would forget something so ominous. “We’re doing this because Mom said it’s the decent thing to do. I, for one, am not buying your bullshit. Fuck with us one more time, and I won’t think twice about pounding you to a pulp, and there isn’t a jury in the land that will convict me. I’m not speaking for Mom, but I am speaking for the three of us.”
Well, that certainly narrowed the field. He would just have to work his magic with Kristine. Once she fell into line, the rest of them would follow suit. Or would they? Whatever. He would have to be more diligent and work fast. How the hell hard could it be to seduce his wife? He knew which buttons to press, knew exactly how hard to jerk her chain. He’d start first thing tomorrow. For now he was going to take a nice long nap, and when he woke up he’d drink the wine and eat the cheese from the refrigerator. He made a silent bet with himself before he nodded off that, come six o’clock, either Kristine or one of the kids would trudge over to the apartment with a piping hot dinner. Oh yeah.
As his eyes closed, Logan shifted his thoughts to Peter Island and his next endeavor.
Woodie was like a caged, angry cat as he paced the long family room. Once he stopped to throw a monster log in the fire, stepping back when sparks shot upward and outward in every direction like a Fourth of July fireworks display. Like he really gave a damn if the whole place went up in smoke. Son of a fucking bitch! She did it to me again. And it always comes back to Logan.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Sit here and suck my thumb while I wait for Logan Kelly to die? Am I supposed to cut and run? And go where? Two days ago, just forty-eight hours ago, he’d been the happiest man on the face of the earth. Today he was the most miserable. On top of that it was Christmas Day.
Maybe he needed to get drunk. Maybe he needed to drown his sorrows. Or, maybe he should open his mail? Or, he could go into his little office and start getting his tax records together. If he decided to leave, he would have to have things ready to hand over to the accounting firm in Washington. Good old Steve. He wondered what his old college buddy was doing these days. Probably getting ready to do battle with the IRS over one thing or another. The only thought that appealed to him was the one about getting drunk, but, if he was going to do that, he needed to eat first. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt if he prepared something ahead of time for his hangover tomorrow.
Woodie stomped his way into the kitchen, where he yanked open his kitchen cabinets. Kraft macaroni and cheese, Lipton noodle soup, baked beans, Spam, tuna, canned vegetables, canned juices. A Duncan Hines cake mix. Hell, he hadn’t baked a cake in years. Maybe he should give that a shot. A casserole would be good. He could just dump everything in it and hope for the best. It occurred to him to wonder how old the stuff was. Maybe it would kill him, and his worries would be over. He wondered if Kristine would shed more tears over his death or Logan’s.
The phone rang. Woodie stared at it. Kristine wouldn’t call a second time. So, who was it? Someone calling to wish him a happy holiday. He picked it up on the sixth ring and barked a greeting.
“My goodness, Aaron, is that any way to answer the phone. This is Maureen, sweetie. How are you? I called to wish you a Merry Christmas. You are having a merry time of it, aren’t you?” Maureen trilled.
“The merriest there is. Where are you, Maureen?”
“In Washington at the Hyatt. Stedman wanted to come back for the holidays. I wanted to stay in St. Tropez but in the end I always do what Stedman wants.”
“What makes you think I’m interested in your whereabouts or your itinerary, Maureen?” Woodie all but snarled.
“Sweetie, we were married once. That means we’ll have a bond of sorts all our lives. I’m really very fond of you. If you’d had more money, I would have stayed with you. I would even have lived in that awful tree house of yours.”
“I’m not exactly poor.”
“No, sweetie, but you are stingy. Do you want to know what Stedman gave me for Christmas?”
Woodie clenched his teeth. “I can’t say it will make my day complete. More to the point, what did you give old Stedman? By the way, how is he?”
“The poor darling has good days and bad days. We have round-the-clock nurses for him. He sleeps quite a bit these days, which gives me loads of free time. I thought when the weather cleared, I’d drive out to see you. To answer your question, though, I gave Stedman a cashmere, monogrammed muffler. He loves mufflers. He gave me a French villa and a diamond belt. Did you ever in your life hear of anything more outrageous? Each stone is a full carat. They’re perfectly matched. I know you aren’t up on fashion, so I’ll tell you: it’s one of those belts you wear when you’re naked.”
Woodie choked on the smoke from his cigarette, then he laughed.
“When I come out to visit, sweetie, I’ll show you how it looks. Are you still dating, goodness, isn’t that word archaic, that farm woman?”
“No,” Woodie barked.
“Oh, sweetie, did things go sour?”
“You could say that,” Woodie barked again.
“Do you want me to call before I come out or should I just pop in? I won’t come empty-handed. I bought you a lovely gift, and I wrapped it myself. I love to give presents. Stedman gets such joy out of seeing me shop. We have so many houses I’ve lost track. Life couldn’t be better.”
“If it’s so goddamn wonderful, why are you calling me?”
“To stay in
touch. Just like the telephone people tell you to do. It’s also very boring here today. There is so much snow, there’s nothing going on in the hotel, and Stedman is napping.” Maureen laughed. “I’m reaching out to touch someone.”
“Well, touch someone else. I’m busy right now. Merry Christmas, Maureen, and Happy New Year. That’s my greeting for the new year, too, so you won’t have to call me again.”
“You’re such an old grouch, Aaron. I don’t know why I bother with you.”
“Good-bye, Maureen.”
“Diamond belts to wear when you’re naked. Now I’ve heard everything,” Woodie snapped as he flipped open his cabinets in search of liquor. His old housekeeper must have replenished his liquor when he called to tell her to get the house ready. The stuff in the cabinets must be fresh, too. What to choose? Scotch, gin, vodka, rum, or cognac? What the hell, he’d sample all of them while he cooked his Christmas dinner.
It was five minutes of four when Woodie staggered over to the kitchen counter to survey his culinary masterpieces. He was as drunk as the proverbial skunk, knew it, and didn’t care. He was going to get even drunker if he didn’t pass out first.
Woodie splashed Bacardi rum into a glass. He gulped at it. The fiery liquid popped his eyeballs to attention just as he heard a high-pitched whine outside the house. In his drunken state he couldn’t make out the direction of the earsplitting shrieking noise. Probably another damn burglar. Well, his shotgun was ready and loaded. All he had to do was find it.
“Aha! Okay, I’m ready for you!” Woodie said, leaning up against the refrigerator, the barrel of the gun pointed in the middle of the kitchen door. It was quiet. Too quiet! The bastard was probably going to come in through the front door. Was it locked? What difference did that make? Burglars knew how to break and enter. The first sound he heard at the door and he’d start blasting. For one crazy moment he wondered if it was Maureen in her diamond belt. God, what if he killed her dead and all she was wearing was a diamond belt? How would he explain that to the banking industry? He used to be a pillar of the banking industry. Now he was nothing. Kristine didn’t want him because she had to wait for old Logan to kick the bucket. Maureen didn’t want him because he wasn’t rich enough. Even his housekeeper didn’t want him anymore because she said there was nothing for her to do in his house. Damn, he couldn’t make anyone happy.
Celebration Page 34
