by Toni Blake
“Yeah,” she said. “But so what?”
“I watched it with my dad when I was little,” he told her. “And do you remember the part where Gene Hackman used the last bit of his strength to turn that steel wheel, to open the hatch and save the rest of them, and then dropped to his death? Seeing that had an effect on me. I remember thinking—now that guy’s a hero, a real hero. He was willing to give up his life to save others.”
“But that’s not how it was in this situation. You couldn’t save them, you just told me that. And if you’d sacrificed your own life, it would have been . . . meaningless, and . . . a huge waste, Logan. And besides, you’re talking about a movie, not real life. I don’t think it’s wise to hold yourself to the standards of someone who isn’t real.”
“I just worry,” he softly went on, “that . . . my dad would have been disappointed in me.”
Still looking skeptical, Amy tilted her head. “What do you think he’d have done in your place?”
“I’m not sure,” Logan told her, shaking his head lightly against his old bedcover. “Maybe he’d have gotten to the second floor a little faster. Or seen some way to get them out that I didn’t. But I think he’d have found a way to save his friends. He wouldn’t have left them there like that.”
Yet Amy shook her head, clearly unconvinced, her expression downright stalwart now. “You’re wrong,” she said. “I knew your dad. He was as heroic as they come, Logan, just like you, but he wasn’t impractical, either. And it would have broken his heart, same as it’s broken yours, but he would have done exactly what he had to do, what you had to do, what you did. He’d have saved himself. Because he’d have known one more death would only make it that much more of a tragedy, and—” Her voice broke then, and he realized she’d gotten almost as emotional as him. “And . . . my God, Logan. If you had died in that fire, needlessly . . . I would never get over it. And now I’d have a broken heart, too, but for a whole different reason.”
And by then tears were streaming down her face, and Logan’s heart felt like it was bending, stretching in his chest as she said, “Just think about what that would have done to me, and your mother, and Mike, and everyone else who knows you and cares about you. Just think about how much more empty our lives would be right now, Logan.”
“Hey now, freckles, calm down,” he said soothingly. “Everything’s all right. I’m right here, honey, and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing to cry about.” And as she sniffed back her tears, he didn’t for a second fight the urge to slip his hand around her neck and pull her down for another slow, passionate kiss. Because he hated making her cry, and yet . . . it touched him to know how much she cared.
They kissed for a few long, pain-numbing minutes that brought Logan back to a better place. And when they were done, Amy said to him, “Do you see now? Do you see why you had to do what you did? That no good could have come from any other decision?”
Logan drew in a deep breath, thinking it through. He’d never thought ahead to how it would affect anyone else if he’d lost his life in that fire—he’d only thought of Ken and Doreen, and of what he thought it meant to be a real man, a good man. He’d thought only of the look on Ken’s face, the feeling that he’d let them down in the biggest possible way you could fail someone. But she was right—it was pretty horrible to imagine putting his mother through something like that, and Amy, and everyone else, too. “Maybe,” he finally said. “It’s just hard . . . hard to know the last thing the Knights saw was me . . . leaving them to die.”
“And that’ll probably always be hard, Logan,” she told him. A bitter pill, a hard thing to hear, yet it was true. “But you have to know nothing that happened that night was your fault. You did all you could. And I’m sure Ken and Doreen knew that as well as I do.”
And it was then that something took place inside Logan that never had before, or at least not since he’d reached adulthood. His eyes began to ache, and his throat went tight, and he grew aware that his cheeks were wet. And he realized that—shit—now he’d begun to cry, too.
And at first, he tried to suck back the tears. Because he was a guy—a fireman, for God’s sake—and he didn’t cry. But Amy was watching him, and she was whispering, “No, Logan, no. Just let it go. Let it go.”
And without quite making the decision, not quite being able to hold it back any longer, that was what he did—he’d had enough, too much, and now he’d finally reached the breaking point. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes, wetting his cheeks, his hairline, as he crushed his eyes shut and finally felt the wrenching release mixed with the relief of just giving in to this, just for a minute. And he held Amy tight as she wiped away the wetness and kissed his cheek, again and again, soft and sweet, blurring the pain until finally, slowly, it faded—and all he remained aware of were the sweet scents of the orchard at night and Amy making everything better.
As Amy and Logan made the walk back up through the orchard the next morning, shortly past dawn, she couldn’t imagine what she must look like by now. She supposed this was technically the infamous “walk of shame” she’d heard people speak of.
But she didn’t feel any shame—in fact, she only felt . . . happy. She had no idea what would happen between her and Logan now—she’d noticed, in fact, that neither of them were talking about it—but she knew that last night had been special, and right, and exactly what it should have been. To lose her virginity with Logan had been worth the wait, worth every blasted month and year of it. And the fact that he’d opened up to her about the fire . . . well, now she understood what he’d been going through, and she hoped sharing it had helped. And if not, well . . . at least he didn’t have to go through it alone any longer because he’d have her if times got rough or he needed to talk some more.
Logan walked her to her car, parked out front near Edna’s house, and kissed her goodbye, saying simply, “Last night was really special, freckles,” and she knew he wasn’t talking about the wedding.
“For me, too,” she told him. “And . . . I hope that maybe talking about things . . . helped a little.”
He nodded. “It did. Thank you for that.” And then he kissed her again before turning to walk away, back toward his car parked behind the barn.
And as Amy opened her car door, she didn’t miss the curtain being pulled back in the window on the side of Edna’s house, nor Edna’s face behind the glass giving her a wink and a smile.
Thirteen
. . . how very happy a summer must be before her!
Jane Austen, from Emma
That afternoon, Amy sat in one of the easy chairs at Under the Covers, trying once more to get Mr. Knightley and Austen to be friends. Her night with Logan had lifted her spirits so high that she felt inspired to try again with these two.
She’d put down a pie pan with some Meow Mix and a little milk—the pan being plenty wide enough that they could learn to share, but without quite being in each other’s faces. Austen stepped up cautiously, after a nudge from Amy, to where Knightley already stood eating. At first, he gave a low hiss, so Amy scolded him. “Bad, Mr. Knightley, very bad indeed. Be nice and share with Austen. She wants to be your friend.” Then she looked back to the more timid cat. “Go on, Austen, don’t be afraid,” she said, prodding her lightly again.
Austen kept her eye on Knightley, and it took her a minute to get bold enough to actually eat, but once she started, Mr. K. didn’t protest. And Amy smiled. “Maybe there’s hope for you two yet.”
And at the moment, she was starting to think she could accomplish just about anything.
First, she’d miraculously gotten prettier—and she’d even spent extra time on her makeup today upon seeing how much more her eyes and lips stood out with a little added effort.
Then she’d won Logan’s affections and finally lost her virginity.
And now she’d even made peace between enemy cats!
Leaning back in the chair, she let out a happy sigh. She couldn’t remember ever being so simply filled with joy. Th
anks to Logan. And the way they had connected last night, in both body and soul. She bit her lip, still all atwitter at the memory.
And he’d even opened up to her about the fire afterward, too. And now she finally understood what had really been going on with him that first time he’d kissed her. Perhaps those kisses were the only good thing to come out of a tragedy that had stretched far beyond the Knight house. She hoped and prayed that she’d been some help to Logan last night—and she believed in her heart that she had. And though she hated his pain, she felt all the more connected to him because he’d shared it with her.
After that, she’d slept in his arms and she was pretty sure no sleep had ever been sweeter. Summer night scents and cool, blossom-scented air had surrounded them as they lay wrapped in the old quilt, the gentle cadence of crickets and the burble of Sugar Creek lulling them to sleep.
Once, she’d woken up, and upon realizing where she was, she’d simply lay there looking over at him, taking in all that male beauty, and let the same joy she still felt now permeate her from head to toe. He’d made everything about her first time so easy, so right. Her smile widened as she relived the moment in her mind.
Now, she felt almost like her old, happy self. But an even better, more experienced, more thrilled version of herself. She’d even found herself doing a little matchmaking this morning, something that hadn’t held the same natural appeal for her as usual lately. But when Caroline Meeks had come in the store, Amy suggested she might consider pursuing Sue Ann’s boss at Destiny Properties, Dan Lindley. Caroline had seemed fairly aghast at the idea, but Amy thought it a good one, and she’d resolved to work on it soon. She’d also found herself thinking about Chuck Whaley, the young guy who worked for Adam at Becker Landscaping. She didn’t have anyone in mind for him yet, but she was going to keep an eye out for just the right girl.
Just then, the door opened with a jingle from the bell above, and Tessa came in. She wore a big smile, too. “Sooooo?” she said.
“So . . . what?” Amy asked.
“So you and Logan disappeared around the same time last night, that’s so what. What happened?”
Amy hadn’t quite realized it would be so obvious they were both gone, but she supposed it made sense that Tessa would notice. She cast her friend a happy, confiding look to softly say, “I told him.”
Tessa’s eyes flew wide, her expression hopeful. “And?”
Amy gave her lower lip a small, bashful nibble, remembering. “And . . . I am no longer the V-word.”
At this, Tessa gasped with joy. “Really? Oh my God, Amy. And was it amazing?”
Amy’s whole body tingled with the memory as she gave a soft nod. “It was perfect.”
“I’m so happy for you! This is the best news!” She reached down to squeeze Amy’s hand. “See? You told him and it was okay. Better than okay. It was perfect. And so . . . are you, like, together now? Like officially a couple?”
And Amy’s heart took a brief dip down toward her stomach, but she didn’t let it dampen her mood for more than a second or two. “The sex was perfect,” she corrected herself. “The rest . . . we didn’t talk about.”
“Why not?” Tessa asked, looking bummed out.
Amy just sighed. “Well, I kind of thought I’d put enough weird pressure on him for one night. I mean, he was pretty shocked to discover how I felt. And it was a beautiful night . . . with no promises. And that’s okay. Because how could I really ask him for more after dropping a bomb like that?”
As Tessa pursed her lips, Amy could tell her friend was seeing her point of view. “Okay, fair enough, you can only do so much in one night, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But now we have to figure out your next move. Because it’s not like Anna Romo has suddenly just vanished, you know?”
Amy didn’t answer, instead just quietly pulling in her breath. She’d been floating around on her dreamy little cloud of love ever since parting ways with Logan, and she hadn’t let herself think ahead. She’d been trying to be all mature and patient about the whole thing. But she couldn’t argue with Tessa’s logic.
“In fact, she was pretty perplexed when he disappeared, and she wasn’t shy about asking if people had seen him. I think she was disappointed, that she probably was hoping something would happen between them last night, and that makes me think . . . well, she might be even more aggressive with him now. Especially with Mike gone to Italy.”
And now Amy’s heart dropped further. She hated thinking of this as some kind of competition between her and Anna—but she supposed it was.
“So we need to talk strategy.”
Ugh. “Strategy, Tessa? You make it sound so much . . . like a game.”
But Tessa just shrugged. “Love is a game. One in which all is fair. Get my point?”
Amy let out a sigh. She didn’t like it, but Tessa was right. One wonderful, romantic, sexy, exciting night with the man of her dreams didn’t necessarily mean she could rest on her laurels. “Okay, yes, but . . . can’t I just have a day or two to bask in the glory of last night? I mean, it was so special, so perfect, that I don’t want to feel . . . conniving about it.”
“No,” Tessa said simply. “I’m sorry, but I think you need to take the bull by the horns here. You can’t go soft now.”
Amy actually admired Tessa’s go-get-’em attitude—her bold daring was what had ultimately led to her relationship with Lucky—but she wasn’t that good at it herself. “Well,” she asked skeptically, “what is it exactly that you want me to do?”
Walking around to settle in one of the other chairs, Tessa thought for a minute, then said, “The summer carnival starts in a few days. And you love the summer carnival.”
It was true—the annual carnival in Creekside Park was one of Amy’s favorite times of year. With midway rides, games, and cotton candy, it was a fun place to connect with friends and fellow Destiny residents every June. “Yes, I do,” she said. “So what?”
“So you should ask Logan if he’d like to go with you. You know, make an official date.”
But Amy cringed slightly. “Shouldn’t I be leaving it to him to ask me on a date?”
Tessa just rolled her eyes. “I love you, Ames, but you are so twentieth century sometimes. It’s entirely okay for you to suggest getting together with him—doesn’t matter if the girl or the guy does it these days. So will you ask him?”
Amy drew in her breath and let out a less-than-excited sigh. “I don’t know. I’m really more of an old-fashioned girl.”
Yet Tessa didn’t cut her any slack. “And that’s gotten you really far in your dating life, hasn’t it?”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s like we’ve been saying all along—this is your time, the time for you to grab onto, the time for you to do something before it passes you by.”
“But I did something. Something huge. And it worked. So I thought I could relax a little now.”
Fortunately, that was the moment Tessa finally noticed the two kitties eating peacefully on the floor near Amy. “Oh,” she said, her smile coming back. “What did you do to make them get along?”
Amy thought about it and said, “I guess it really just took a little patience, and letting them get used to each other.”
And it was at that precise moment that the phone behind the counter trilled, which alarmed the cats and made Knightley suddenly strike out an angry paw, claws bared, at Austen’s nose. Both Tessa and Amy gasped as Austen drew back, then went running for the bookshelves.
“Bad, Knightley!” Amy scolded, severely ashamed of her kitty, not to mention disappointed that what had been going so well had suddenly fallen apart, all over the ring of a phone. Meanwhile, Tessa went to answer it.
“Under the Covers,” Amy heard her say as she busily lectured Mr. K, bending down to pick up bits of Meow Mix that had gotten flung out in the kerfluffle. She could tell from tidbits of conversation that whoever was on the phone was someone Tessa knew, someone who’d been
at the wedding—but that could be about anyone in Destiny, so she wasn’t paying much attention until Tessa said, “Amy—for you.” And when Amy looked up to see Tessa eagerly holding out the receiver of the old push-button princess phone she’d once had in her room as a girl, Tessa mouthed: Logan.
Heat filled Amy’s cheeks, even though she wasn’t quite sure why, and her legs went a little numb as she stood to make her way to the phone. This was Logan, so there was nothing to be nervous about. But then again, this change in their relationship was so new, so different, and she felt so . . . giddy that somehow it almost embarrassed her.
She tried her level best not to sound giddy when she took the phone and said hello.
“Hey freckles, how are ya?”
“I’m . . . good,” she said. “Really good.”
She could almost feel his smile on the other end of the line—the warmth Logan gave off was that strong. “I’m glad. Guess I just wanted to, you know, call and check up on you, make sure you didn’t have any regrets about last night.”
She drew in her breath and found herself overanalyzing his every word. It was sweet to check on her, but . . . maybe when she’d found out it was him, she’d thought he was calling to ask her out, thought maybe life would be that good, that easy, that simple from here on out. So it was, weirdly, almost a disappointment that he was only being his usual sweet self instead. “No,” she said, her voice coming out a little too breathy at the reminder of last night’s intimacy. “None at all. It was . . . perfect.”
She wasn’t making eye contact with Tessa, yet even in her peripheral vision she could tell her friend was pleased with that little stroke of boldness.
“I’m really glad, honey. Just since . . . well, it happened so suddenly, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel once it was over.”
More boldness. Try. She swallowed back her usual shyness—because that had certainly turned out well last night—and said, “Could be that what was sudden for you was more of a . . . long time coming for me.”
