St Martin Family 03 - Shatter

by Gina Watson

  Logan stroked her hair and inhaled long and deep.

  “I’d just been given permission to take the bus. Usually my mother would drive to the school to pick me up, but I was exerting my freedom. My friends rode the bus and I’d wanted to do so as well.” His voice was a low whisper. He didn’t want to speak loudly, didn’t want to give the words more power than they already had. “Had my mother come to collect me, she would still be alive today.”

  “You don’t know that. No one knows what the timeline was. Had she come to collect you, both of you may have been murdered.”

  Logan nodded, his eyes heavy and sandy. “My father was a plastic surgeon. He’d helped a woman who was on the run from some Colombian mafia. She’d smuggled drugs in her breast implants and they’d ruptured and she was going to die. My father had been working with the law, all of them, I think—border patrol, FBI, DEA. I guess that’s why they came after him. The woman had known better; she’d taken off before the stitches could heal.”

  Jessie asked no questions. Just offered quiet, steadfast support in her blue gaze and strong arms.

  “The St. Martins were family friends and when Cliff St. Martin heard about what had happened, he came for me. Since I had no immediate family, I was a ward of the state until the paperwork could be ironed out. But the St. Martins weren’t going to have me in foster care for even one night. I remember sitting in some office as Cliff St. Martin took control. The agency had told him if he’d like to apply to be a foster parent, they would, in due time, place me with him. I don’t know what happened next, exactly, but I do remember he’d brought in lawyers and doctors. And I knew I had to be with the St. Martin family in order to survive. In a world that was crumbling around me, they were critical for my survival. I’d grown up with them, they were known to me, and that made an impossible situation bearable.”

  He took a deep, cleansing breath. “I became a St. Martin. He adopted me in the courts and had my name changed. They’d all been welcoming, always have been nice, and never once treated me like an outsider. Still, the differences had been there and they’d been huge. Occasionally I’d overhear some of the older brothers talking about what I’d been through. They were worried about me, said I was too quiet. But I’d always been quiet.” He gestured to his eyes and hair. “I obviously don’t have the trademark ice-blue eyes and brown hair. They were good at sports, good with animals, and good with their hands, and I’m not so good with those things. I eventually got some coordination, but it’s more a fine motor control and not so good for sports.” He laughed softly, releasing some of the tension that had tightened around him. “I’ve yet to be able to sit a horse without getting bucked off, and they teased me mercilessly, as siblings do.” He shrugged. “I evidently spook the darn animals.”

  He grinned sheepishly at Jessie, feeling petty, but he needed to tell her all. “And then, to top it off, the St. Martins all have those C names and those catchy nicknames to go with them. So you can see how I felt sorry for myself.”

  “You’d lost your family—of course you felt all those things, from the deep to the not so deep.”

  “You don’t have to spare me. I know some of it was shallow and petty. But I desperately wanted to be on the inside of their circle. During the holidays they had these crazy family traditions, and on Christmas Eve everyone brought down an ornament they’d made, the crazier the better. They all inspected each other’s ornaments to see who the big winner would be. The winning ornament adorned the treetop. When seven sets of eyes looked to me that first year and they asked to see the ornament I’d made, I ran to my room. They’d forgotten to tell me about the contest. Things got better each year and, like I said, they accepted me unconditionally. I’m pretty confident now about my place in the family. I owe them everything.”

  Logan’s eyes fixed on the far wall. “I’d considered all of them to be my family even before I found out, just a few days ago, that St. Martin blood actually does run through my veins.”

  Jessie looked up, her eyes narrowed. “How is that possible?”

  “Well, how would you think?” He arched a suggestive brow.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve told you the families were friends.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

  He cleared his throat and simply waited. When it dawned on her what he was implying, she gasped and one hand flew to cover her mouth.

  “Clifton St. Martin had an affair with my biological mother, Anne.” Logan held his arms out in sacrificial fashion. “What you see here, Jessie, is the product of adultery and one set of brutally murdered parents.”

  She flinched, and her mouth opened on a low gasp. After a long moment she said, “Logan, you lost your family and were given another. Some people don’t get that chance.”

  “You don’t understand. If the family was going to be torn apart by what happened, it could have been done back then so I could have saved myself all those years of feeling left out—of feeling like I didn’t belong and yearning for a connection as deep as blood.”

  When Jessie frowned and her face took on an expression that said he was pushing the pity stuff, Logan was uncomfortably forced to agree that she was right. But that wasn’t his only argument.

  “Plus it’s not as simple as all that anyway. This admission will upset the family. As it is now, only Clifton, Catherine, and I are aware, but they want to tell the others. Mom and Dad have been separated for a while now. I think the lies tore them apart. They’re going to give their marriage another chance, but first they want to come clean with the family. I don’t see the admission washing down very well, so I just can’t understand their reasoning. The time to tell me would have been when they adopted me, not now that I’m almost thirty.”

  “You’re so focused on the negative aspects of the adultery that you can’t see the positive in the situation. You’ve been given a father, an entire family, all those siblings.”

  Jessie’s statement angered Logan. How could she talk of positives in a situation as bleak as this?

  “Are you even listening to me? There are going to be no siblings. Once they find out how I got here, they’ll resent me. I damned well can’t expect them not to. You can’t be that naïve. I’m the catalyst that set the ball in motion for the demise of their parents’ relationship. Their separation tore through the family like a hurricane making landfall. I’ll be an outcast.” He shook his head. “I won’t do it. If he’s going to tell them, I’m out of here.”

  Jessie started to say something, but Michael called her name, and both Logan and Jessie turned. Michael sat up. He’d taken all the IV solution, and his color was much better. Jessie jumped up and hobbled to him, and Logan walked to the couch to assess his patient.

  “Hey there, buddy. How do you feel?”

  Michael smiled, looking happy as he accepted a smacking kiss from Jessie. “Great!” He reached out a hand and patted Logan’s cheek. “Where are we? Do you got any food?”

  Logan grinned as he pondered the resiliency of youth. “Let’s check your temperature. You’ve been sick.” When he heard the beep, he pulled the thermometer from Michael’s ear. “Ninety-eight point six. Good as new.”

  He ran through Michael’s vitals before removing the IV from his hand. Once he was loose, Michael jumped into Logan’s arms and said, “I love you.”

  Logan froze. Was it that easy? Just saying the words when you felt them? Sharing the love that flowed deep within?

  Michael leaned back in his arms and searched his face. “Why are you crying?” He reached up and with his fingers brushed away Logan’s tears. Then he kissed Logan’s cheeks, first one, then the other, and then the first again. “This is what Mommy does when I cry. Is it better?”

  Feeling incredibly light and unbearably heavy at the same time, Logan smiled and said, “So much better.” He bent his head and kissed the cheek Michael turned toward him. “I love you, Michael.”

  He carried Michael to Jessie’s waiting arms. Her eyes were shining
, and Logan stole a kiss, stroking her hair, as she shifted Michael into a more comfortable position. Laughing, she squeezed Michael, and he said, “Oomph, you’re squeezing my stuffing.”

  She smiled at the precocious little guy and said, “Mommy missed you.”

  Michael’s eyes lit up. “I was having a dream about being a pirate on a ship.”

  With excitement in her voice, Jessie replied, “You were? Was I there?”

  Michael nodded and then said, “Yes, I was a pirate. But not you. Mommies aren’t pirates.”

  Logan couldn’t wait any longer to ask his own question. “Do you still want me around after all I’ve told you?”

  Jessie shook her head. “Logan, honestly, if you don’t come home with us right now, I will kick you in the shins.”

  Frowning, Michael said, “That’s not very nice, Mommy.”

  Logan leaned close and rubbed Michael’s back, whispering loudly. “Mommy’s being mean, isn’t she?”

  Michael nodded.

  Jessie looked from him to Logan and said, “Guess what, Michael? We’re going to let Logan come live with us.”

  And then she smiled and opened one arm wide, with Michael copying her, to include Logan in their family circle.

  Logan stepped close, reached out his own arms, and completed the circle.

  10

  Several weeks later Jessie was finishing the setup for a surprise party for Logan’s birthday. She’d spoken with Catherine and Clifton about Logan’s worries that his siblings would be upset by the admission of how he’d come into their world. They planned to tell the rest of the family tonight at the party when they were all together and could show their support. For this reason, Jessie had told Logan of the party plans so he wouldn’t be entirely in the dark. She wouldn’t do anything to risk hurting him, even if that meant spoiling the surprise of a surprise party.

  He was so nervous that he hadn’t wanted to do the party until she’d promised she and Michael would go with him if he needed to move after his dad dropped his bombshell. Clifton remained confident that his children wouldn’t accuse Logan for the ups and downs in their parents’ relationship. Jessie prayed he was right.

  Logan was the most genuine person she’d ever known. He loved her and Michael with everything he had. She loved him back and knew that if he really needed to get away after tonight, they would go with him without reservation. She hated the thought of pulling Michael from his school and grandparents, but Logan was vital to both of them and they would unconditionally and happily support him.

  Jessie had decided her home would be the best venue for the festivities. She wanted the setting to evoke family togetherness and it seemed more intimate than the restaurant or even the brewery. To decorate for the party, Jessie had enlisted the help of the St. Martin women—Catherine, Chloe, and Brook—and of course, Michael. Logan’s father and most of his brothers had taken Logan fishing for the day.

  “Mommy, here’s another one. Hang it right there.” Michael had been making paper chains and dictating where they should be hung.

  Clay, Logan’s firefighter brother, was on duty and was missing out on the fishing but should be arriving any time now with the crawfish and beer kegs—Good Doctor Brew only, of course. They planned to have a big boil in the backyard.

  Chloe and Brook had gone to pick up the cake.

  Everything was coming together, and Jessie was excited about the gift she had for Logan. She’d wanted to get him something related to craft beer, but hadn’t known what. Then she’d heard about a large wall map that included all the breweries of the United States. The only problem was, The Good Doctor Brewery wasn’t on it. She’d contacted the company, not sure a new print would be ready in time, but to her delight it had come in last week. She’d had the large poster framed. On the map, Interstate 10 ran through Louisiana, and somewhere around the interstate sign was a dot that read Whiskey Cove, The Good Doctor Brewery. Now that Jessie knew the symbolism behind the name, she smiled. Having named his beers Spleen, Kidney, Penis, and various other body parts, her man had proven himself wittier than he thought he was. She desperately hoped he liked her gift.

  When Clay, the oldest St. Martin brother, arrived with the kegs, Jessie thought she’d met the Incredible Hulk. He was tall and hugely muscled, with the telltale St. Martin blue eyes and thick nut-brown hair. He carried in four quarter-barrel kegs at the same time. His voice was deep and clear, and his thick lips, coupled with a slightly skewed smile, made his mouth a near match for Logan’s. He set the kegs down on the back porch and greeted his mother with a kiss.

  “Clay, have you met Jessie?”

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  Jessie extended her hand. Clay took it and used it to pull her into his rock-hard chest and hug the life out of her.

  “Howdy. I hear you’re taking good care of our Logan.”

  Jessie was speechless, not to mention breathless, so she just offered him a smile as he patted her encouragingly on the shoulder.

  Michael ran up to the gentle giant and asked, “Are you a superhero?”

  Clay threw his head back, and big, booming deep-belly laughter erupted from him.

  Michael squealed and laughed.

  “I’m no superhero, but if you want me to be one, I may consider it.” He tousled Michael’s hair as he smiled down at him. He knelt and hunched low until they were eye to eye.

  Jessie bit back a laugh to see the giant make himself accessible to her son.

  “You must be Michael.”

  “That’s me.” Michael reached his hand out and squeezed Clay’s large biceps. “You have big muscles, like Popeye.”

  Clay said, “Err…I am what I am and that’s all that I am.”

  Michael screeched. “You sound like Popeye!”

  “Hey, how do you know about Popeye anyway? I thought all you kids watched Sponge Bob.”

  Jessie clarified, “Michael loves classic cartoons.”

  Clay simply said, “Real cool. Do you wanna help me outside, Michael?”

  Michael nodded vigorously. They shared a high five.

  Clay asked Jessie, “Where are the regulators and hoses for the kegs?”

  Jessie gestured to the laundry area just off the kitchen.

  Clay came back from the laundry room carrying the regulators, and Michael followed with some of the hoses.

  “Jessie, is that brewery map with the bow on it what you’re giving Logan?”

  “Yeah. You think he’ll like it?”

  “He’ll go ballistic. Excellent gift.”

  “Thanks!” So maybe she had chosen a gift he’d like. She hoped Clay knew Logan’s tastes as well as he seemed to think he did.

  The party went off without a hitch. Logan acted surprised, and probably fooled no one, though they pretended he did. The crawfish were well seasoned and the beer plentiful. The boil consisted of crawfish, corn, potatoes, seasoning, and tons of butter. Clay drained and dumped each batch across the newspaper-covered table, and they’d eaten and drunk until everybody was loose. The youngest sibling, Logan’s sister Clara, arrived after her softball tournament. They all referred to her as Clara Bear.

  She was a beautiful girl and obviously much loved and much teased by her brothers.

  It was when Cliff stood to make a speech that Logan’s fist closed around Jessie’s under the table.

  She squeezed back and leaned close, willing to distract him in any way necessary to keep him relaxed.

  “I’m so glad Logan’s birthday could bring all of us together and I want to thank Jessie for being such a gracious host. Good men deserve good women and so far, you guys have done an outstanding job.” He raised his glass and saluted each of the women, winking at Jessie when he turned to her.

  Jessie looked around the table. She’d watched Cal doting on Chloe, waiting on her hand and foot, never letting her lift a finger for anything. Chloe kidded with everyone, and Jessie gathered she’d known the St. Martins a long time. Camp’s girlfriend was out of
town, but Logan had told her he thought they were closing in on an engagement. It seemed that the St. Martin men were all finding women who loved them. From what she could tell, they were lovable. They were certainly good looking.

  “I haven’t done near as good a job as you guys, but your mother is willing to give me another shot, so if you boys have any pointers…”

  A cheer and a lot of noise accompanied his words, and Jessie watched as Catherine shared a smile with her husband. She didn’t know if they’d make it, but they looked like they honestly wanted to try. She squeezed Logan’s hand again. He twirled his beer mug in lazy circles atop the table, but he seemed to be holding his own.

  Whistling, Cliff drew attention back to himself and said, “Sometimes men make mistakes. Well, a lot of the time actually. One of the biggest mistakes of my life was leaving your mother alone while I was off building a business. I’m sorry, Cat.”

  With tears in her eyes, Catherine whispered, “Cliff…”

  “Your mother and I went on a date last night.” The yard again exploded with hoots and applause, and Cliff waggled his eyebrows at Catherine. “We’re taking things day by day.” Cliff eyed each of his children in turn, until they were nearly silent. “And now I need to come clean with the rest of you on a different matter.”

  Logan’s breath got very shallow, and Jessie shifted so she could reach her free hand toward his chest. At the continued silence, Michael ran to Jessie from where he’d been playing with Cory and Brook’s dog and angled his body between her chair and Logan’s. He leaned against her arm, his eyes on Cliff, but his hands pressed into Logan’s leg.

  “I recently told Logan that I’m his biological father. It is St. Martin blood that runs through his veins. He’s your brother now and always. For two years I had an affair with Logan’s mother, Anne Champagne. That’s where the wrong in this story ends; I will never regret my actions with Anne. I can’t even bring myself to say I was wrong because what happened brought Logan into my life. For that I will never be sorry.” Cliff looked around the table and admitted, “I betrayed your mother and my friend, but that is my shame and mine alone. None of that extends to Logan. I feel nothing but pride in him.”