15 Tales of Love (18 page)

But the old trees were what the Smith Company also wanted – there was a good market for scarce big logs and their fine lumber.

About ten minutes later Candace, Logan, and Abrams stood at the top of the promised ravine, a steep-sided narrow slit in the mountainside created over the centuries by the little brook that tumbled musically over the ledges beside them. Candace was awed into silence.

The branches of the huge pines almost met above the narrow gorge, filtering the sunshine so that little grew among the damp ledges but ferns and mosses and some dainty yellow violets. Candace pictured mayflowers in the pine duff in the early spring, jack-in-the-pulpits along the brook, cardinal flowers where there was enough light.
This is my idea of heaven.

Beside her Logan said, “Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“It’s been in my family for going on two hundred years,” Abrams said. “My grandfather had it logged once, except this part.” He looked down into the gorge. “I’m glad the forester alerted the Forest Society, after he told me how unusual this stand is and how it should be preserved. Their man was impressed. I’ve always loved it and I’d like to be able to give it to the Society, but I can’t.”

Candace understood. You can’t always afford to give something away even if it’s what you want to do. The Forest Society would have to do some major fundraising to buy the conservation easement, but they were very good at that. She imagined well-built trails along the ravine rim bringing people here to enjoy the quiet beauty.

Abrams said, “That logging company has made a nice offer, but I hate to do that.” He sighed. “I’ve heard about how they operate, but unless the Society can come close to the assessed value . . .”

Logan said, a catch in his voice, “It would be a crime to cut them.”

“I know. But we need the money.”

There was no answer to that.

On their way back, Candace directed Logan to where he could see a lot that had been recently operated by the Smith Company, the slash left on the clear-cut knolls and hillsides, trees broken by equipment and not cleared, and ruts left in the fragile soil.

“That’s a crime,” he agreed. “It must have been pretty once.”

She could hear outrage in his voice and silently applauded, warming toward him
. Maybe this guy will work out after all . . .
“It was,” she told him. “It was beautiful. Eventually somebody will build houses here, but it won’t be a nice subdivision. All of the trees are gone.” She shook her head. “In the meantime, it will grow up to brush—gray birch, wild cherries and blackberries. It will take years for it to be a forest again.”

He didn’t comment and she wondered what he was thinking. “But in the meantime it’s habitat for rabbits and woodcocks and I suppose that’s important, too.” She paused but he was still studying the ruined lot. “There are much better ways to provide that.”

He agreed. “There must be. We’ll have to work on that.”

She wondered at the ‘we.’ It sounded nice.

Candace returned to her usual routines and the conservation classes she conducted at elementary schools. When she encountered Logan, he was friendly and polite, charming even. She thought about him occasionally and made several—wholly appropriate, of course—occasions to talk to him, usually about her work, saying she needed another opinion. He knew a great deal more about their environment than she had supposed, probably from the time he had spent as a timber cruiser. But he said nothing about his personal past and seemed to have no social life. She wondered why.

Nothing like a little mystery
.
Doesn’t he like women at all? Is there someone, somewhere? He’s good looking, friendly, charming, and different from anyone else I’ve known . . .

She did some quiet asking about him. She didn’t want to be obvious so she found out very little. Logan was not married, listed a brother in Pennsylvania as an emergency contact, and rented an apartment in a nearby town.
Nothing to bring up in casual conversation, and about as useful as those blasted gold sandals.

The shoes irritated her when she saw them, so she moved them out of sight to a closet shelf.
I’ll do something with them when I find time. But still, they are pretty, and maybe one of these days . . .

She wondered for a moment if the sandals reminded her of a past she was trying to forget, the social whirl she sometimes missed and might like to try again if the right person came along. She dismissed the thought. That life was gone. It had left with Roger.

Candace decided at the last minute to attend a backyard cookout for Ranger Hal Ormond’s birthday. “You only turn thirty-five once,” Julie Thomas said when she had passed along the invitation. “Besides, I think everyone else is going.”

Candace assumed that meant Logan and decided to go and see how he acted in a nonofficial setting and if he was as formal off the job as he was at work. She chose a nice pair of navy slacks and a bright blue and yellow print blouse as being appropriate for an informal backyard affair. She pulled her auburn hair back with a barrette, not confining it as usual under her hat.

Julie, however, wore a too tight pair of turquoise capris and a low-cut black tank top that revealed a lot more cleavage than Candace had thought Julie possessed. She had artfully thrown a sweater over her shoulders because of the evening chill, an effect that enhanced the view. Candace was appalled.
This isn’t the time or the place.
She noticed that several of the rangers’ wives were obviously annoyed. She knew that Julie, while considered a fairly good office manager, was not held in high regard personally, but she could not recall all the gossip as to why.

Julie is a little too plump for that kind of outfit.
But that’s being catty.
What Julie chooses to wear is none of my business. Nothing she does is any of my business. And what I do isn’t hers.

The men were dressed casually in jeans and tees, and Candace noted that Logan was apparently at ease, laughing with those around him, but he was watching Julie. And she was eying him back, an out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye kind of regard, slightly smiling.

Candace had seen that seductive come-hither look too many times in the past and found it irritating.
Who does Julie think she is? He’s my work partner and I’m just getting to know him.

That thought was unsettling and she considered it. Perhaps Logan was worth making a little effort for, if only to thwart Julie’s apparent intentions. She picked up her can of soda and walked across the patio to where Logan was talking to Ranger Cal Mallows. When she got closer she realized they were discussing the Forest Society, one of her favorite organizations.

“Over the past years they’ve rescued a lot of nice places from developers,” Cal told Logan. “They do a great job for conservation and preservation of nice forests.”

Logan smiled in Candace’s direction, acknowledging her presence. “I heard they’ve taken on our old growth ravine as a project. Even though that logging company upped their offer.” He hesitated. “They have a lot of money to raise to get it and not a lot of time.”

“But they almost always manage to do it. They have a lot of statewide community support.” She met his bright gray eyes and noted a sparkle in them she had never seen before and responded to it. “Maybe we did some good.”

He kept his eyes on hers, upsetting her equilibrium a little. “You showed me a piece of forest I didn’t know still existed here in the East.”

“There are a few nice spots left,” Cal said, “if you’re lucky enough to find them.” He glanced around. “I guess old Hal is about to make a speech or something about being thirty-five.”

Logan glanced that way. “I haven’t reached that mile stone.”

Hal laughed turning away. “Neither have I.”

Candace noticed Julie approaching and then Logan’s eyebrow raised reaction to the exposed cleavage.
She’s almost falling out.
But before she could say anything, Julie tucked her arm through Logan’s, ignoring Candace. “Come on, you’ll miss all the fun.”

He let her lead him away and Candace was left alone, sipping at her soda, wondering at the sudden surge of dismay. Logan was nothing to her!

But the thought remained: maybe he could be. Candace joined the others around the grill, listened to the talk, ate her cheeseburger and potato salad, but Julie remained glued to Logan’s side. Candace left early to hide her annoyance. She didn’t wait for the birthday cake.

Candace encountered Logan several times over the next few weeks and did not see any change in his attitude. He was as friendly as ever and did not seem averse to stopping to talk.

“I’m taking on that logging company,” he told her. “They’ve shown up in my territory.” He grinned. “It should be interesting.”

“Isn’t that something for law enforcement?”

“I’ve been doing some studying. I might transfer over to that division. There are too many spoilers out there.”

She heard a hard note in his voice and silently applauded. “That’s not my thing. Give me vernal pools and wetlands vegetation.”

He laughed, but said seriously, “Somebody has to do something. It might as well be me.”

She said, “Bravo,” and returned his grin.

But he was still generally impersonal and left her dissatisfied. She was feeling the stirring of desires she thought had died when Roger left and wasn’t sure what to do.

Candace also saw Julie Thomas from time to time, and noticed a new aggressiveness on her part. She was paying more attention to males, unattached and otherwise, and was more frequently at meetings she was not required to attend. She even seemed to be taking an interest in Donnie Morgan, whom Candace knew was long-time happily married.

Candace asked around with what she hoped were seemingly innocent questions, and learned that Julie had apparently just ended a relationship, the latest in a series. No one had details, or appeared to care.

All Candace could do was wait and see what happened. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Social opportunities did not come along very often.

Toward the end of May, Candace met Logan at the site of a brush fire that had charred a couple of acres of vacant land. The fire had been discovered before it had done any real damage, and was quickly extinguished by the local fire department. They found where the fire had started in a small pile of dry brush beside a regularly used hiking trail.

“Probably a cigarette,” the fire chief said, angry and a little resigned. “Some people just don’t stop and think.”

Logan poked at the charred twigs with the toe of his boot. “It could have been worse. Good thing somebody spotted it.”

“This is a pretty well-used trail.” The chief paused. “But if it had been later in the day . . . not many walkers in the evenings this time of year. Too many mosquitoes.”

Logan said, “Yeah. Anyway, you guys do a good job.”

“Thanks.”

“Things are getting green again,” Candace said. “It will cut down on the fire danger.”

“Unless we get a long dry spell.”

They watched for a moment as two firemen made another walk around the perimeter of the burned area, carrying their water tanks, looking for hot spots. There wasn’t anything more they could do except write up a report.

Logan turned away. “The Smith Company has shown up in my territory again.” He glanced sideways at her. “They’re moving onto a big lot next to a middle-sized brook and I have to be sure they observe the buffers and put in proper wetland crossings, things they don’t like to do because of the expense. It should be interesting.”

Candace was surprised. “Isn’t that something for Environmental Services to watch out for? Don’t they usually do the wetlands permits?”

“They do, and the company has done all of the paperwork.” He paused again, looking back at the charred brush. “Just like they always do, and then they ignore everything they think they can get away with.”

She tried to squash her outrage. “I know. Ruining things for my amphibians.”

He laughed, but said seriously, “Those are what we have to save, Candace. We need to save the wetlands for those little critters you’re always looking for.”

She returned his smile. She was liking this man more every time she talked with him
. If only he would unbend a little.

Logan looked over the fire-blackened area again. “Will it come into fireweed?”

She recalled the tall, bright pink flowers that frequently fill in burn areas. “Sometimes. This may not be a big enough area, or there might not be any close enough to seed.” She glanced at him but he was still regarding the burn. “We seem to be on the eastern edge of its range. It’s pretty when it does come.”

“I’ve seen a lot of it out West. Acres of it. It was one of the first plants to come in after Mount St. Helens erupted.” He glanced at her. “I’m not up on the local flowers yet.”

“It takes a while. I don’t know them all since I don’t often deal with wildflowers. It’s sort of a hobby. My aunt loved them and knew almost all of them. She taught me a lot when I was little and we used to go for walks and picnics. Now I tend to look at plants only as a way to define a wetland. You know, reeds and sedges.”

He chuckled. “I know, we do trees.”

“So I look for wetland trees, alders and birches and high bush blueberries.”

Logan turned away. “How about some coffee before we head back?”