15 Tales of Love (19 page)

Surprised at the invitation, she agreed and followed him to the closest town with a good coffee shop, hoping the break would provide some real conversation, something not work related.

But Logan was simply friendly, willing to talk about their work, the Smith Company, a nice stand of moosewood he had come across, and a couple of old butternut trees on an abandoned farm, but nothing personal. She found no opening for even a casual comment.

But at least he invited me to join him! Maybe next time . . .

It was near the end of June. The weather was glorious, soft blue skies and puffy white clouds, mild with occasional showers to make the gardens grow. Buttercups and orange hawkweeds lined the back roads. The purple heal-all bloomed along the edges of pastures, yellow pond lilies and blue flags were opening in the wetlands. The hobblebushes had bloomed and faded and the mountain laurel now whitened the hillsides and the edges of the brooks. Dainty, fragile blue-eyed grass appeared beside the driveway leading to Candace’s small rented house, reminding her to keep an eye out for it when she mowed the lawn.

Candace dug out her wildflower guides, unsure as usual of the names of all of the tiny flowers mostly hidden in the grass.
Which trailing white flower has five petals, chickweed or bedstraw? Not that it matters
.
It’s just nice to know in case someone asks. Most people don’t even notice the tiny flowers, just the obvious ones like daisies.
She wondered if anyone made life lists of wildflowers as the bird watchers did. She didn’t keep that kind of list, either.

And what does Logan keep, other than to himself?
She stifled the thought. He was friendly but his aloofness was getting irritating. She didn’t know what to do about it since she so rarely saw him and had no real reason to seek him out.

Candace got most of her information through the service grapevine since the Rangers only occasionally worked in pairs. She knew that Logan had made the move to law enforcement and was aggressively pursuing logging violations of all kinds so she didn’t work with him again until late July. She was checking the reported sighting of a marbled salamander, one rarely found so far north and probably endangered. The now nearly dry vernal pool was located on an extensive lot where the Smith Company had recently filed an intent-to-cut and Logan had been sent to check it out because of past infractions.

“If you can find real evidence of your little critter, I can put this whole section off limits,” Logan said. She heard the hope in his voice. “They tend to ignore wetlands regulations.”

“The marbleds are hard to find. I’ve only seen a couple in my life.”

“Look hard for it. I need all the help I can get against this crew.”

“All I have is an unverified report from an unreliable witness.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Unreliable?”

Candace laughed. “That means the lady who reported it is an ordinary citizen who was out walking, not a trained observer. Those are actually the best kind of because they’re interested and out there looking and we aren’t. They have a lot more time. Some of them have taken classes.”

“I’ll use it.” He smiled at her. “And any others you might have.”

They left the area without finding the elusive salamander in any of the several officially wet but now just damp areas. Candace found only a few red-orange common newts, a gray yellow-spotted salamander and a couple of mud turtles which were far from endangered.

“It does prove it is a wetland,” Logan said, “and we can use that.” He stopped beside his truck. “How about some coffee? I need a break. Sometimes problems can be solved only with chocolate donuts.”

She laughed. “Or hot fudge sundaes.”

“That, too.”

A muddy pickup truck pulled up behind them, blocking the exit to the parking space on the access road. A large, dark-haired man in work clothes climbed out, staring at them. Candace recognized him as one of the Smith brothers and tried to quell the sudden uneasiness in her stomach.
At least I’m not alone!
But that’s silly.
What can he do?

The man scowled at them, then glared at Logan. “What’re you doin’ here? We got all our permits.”

“Just checking the wetlands,” Logan said affably. “There are quite a few areas on this lot you have to leave a buffer around.”

“They’re on the map. We got ‘em marked.”

“I saw that,” Logan told him. “Just making sure they’re marked on the ground.”

The man growled, giving Candace the impression that they had not been marked.
But that is Logan’s territory.

“And I was checking for endangered species,” Candace said. “There was a report of a marbled salamander.”

“And what in hell is that?” She heard the derision in his voice.

“A kind of spotted amphibian.”

“So now I got to look out for some damn frog?”

“It’s the law,” she said, managing a smile and pushing her queasiness down inside. She had dealt with few such people.

He turned to glare at her. “Just keep outta my way, little lady. The woods’re no place for you.”

“You’ll have to deal with me,” Logan said, his voice still deceptively mild, making Candace wince a little but silently applauding. “This is my area. She does the wildlife.”

“We’ll see,” the man said and turned back to his truck. “We don’t need no woods cop lookin’ over our shoulder. We got work to do.”

“Just follow the rules,” Logan said. “And we’ll all be fine.”

The man climbed into his truck and backed out of the space spraying them with gravel.

Logan watched him go. “I think I need that coffee even more.”

Candace hoped this time he would relax a little over coffee, in a more social setting, and she wasn’t totally disappointed. The incident with the logger apparently made him talkative, although he did not at first mention it.

“I’m starting to like it here,” he said, stirring a second packet of sugar into his coffee. “You have rain.”

“Sometimes we have too much. But it’s the only place I’ve ever lived.”

He glanced at her. “You should visit the desert. It’s wonderful in the spring when it blooms. I try to go home then, but I didn’t make it this year.”

She wondered if that was a subtle invitation, or just an observation. She said, “It’s on my bucket list.”

He returned his gaze to his coffee. “I have a lot of New England left to explore.”

“So have I and I’ve lived here all my life.”

He didn’t look up at her. “I could use a guide to find the good spots.”

“What parts would you like to see? We have everything, mountains, lakes, rivers, seashore . . .”

“I don’t know. There is so much to see. And all of the history.”

“Well, whenever you want to know something, just let me know.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before she could frame a non-committal, casual invitation to visit the coast, he drained his mug. “And keep that Smith character in mind, too. I wouldn’t want you to be alone with him, any of them.”

“I think they’re bluffing. Just trying to scare me. They wouldn’t actually do anything. They don’t want that much trouble.”

He kept his eyes on his now empty cup. “You never know with some people. I’ll put it in my report. Recommend you be assigned somewhere else, away from them.”

“Is that necessary? I don’t want any special treatment because I’m a woman.”

He glanced up at her and then turned away. “I’ll just report it. Let the chief make a decision.”

She didn’t have a ready answer to that.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Well, I guess it’s back to work. Thanks for the coffee break.”

She sighed. The hoped for moment was over. She picked up her hat and followed him outside.

How do I get through all that cool formality he has wrapped around himself? Does he really want me to show him around?
That idea was full of interesting possibilities. She’d have to work on it.

Toward the middle of September there was a cool rainy spell, almost a week of off and on showers, some of them quite heavy. Candace used the time to catch up on reports, do some research, and study her field guides. There was a new season of wildflowers coming into bloom, and she wanted to refresh her memory, to know a few more by sight than the various kinds of asters and musk mallows. As much as she loved all of those showy kinds, there were great mulleins and St. John’s-wort and a lot of tiny flowers hidden in the grass, the confusing chickweeds and bedstraws.

So much of nature is almost hidden. You have to look for it
.
And there is so much of themselves that people keep hidden. Maybe it’s just keeping some parts private.
She knew there were things in her past she didn’t want to talk about. Maybe Logan was doing the same.
And maybe it’s none of my business.

But he was arousing her and the more she saw him, learned about him, the more her interest grew. She was beginning to feel like a woman again.
And he came to my defense, a hero. Was that deliberate, or just his way?
She couldn’t decide, but it was a nice thought.

And then she received a terse note from Ranger Morgan. “It might be best if you left the Smith Company to Amory.” It rankled, but she didn’t argue.

She hadn’t seen Logan since the incident with the man, nor had she been near the operation.

When the weather cleared and she could be outside more comfortably, she went back to her regular routine. Summer was over, the schools open again, and turtle heads and joe-pye weeds were in bloom. The maples were changing to their annual brilliant reds and oranges–one of her favorite times of year, the time she liked most to travel. She needed someone to share it with, a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time.

She met Logan by chance at the district office when she left a report of a meeting with the local conservation officers about damage to woods roads by illegal use of all-terrain vehicles.

“It’s so annoying,” she told him. “So much of the damage they do can’t be repaired.”

“That isn’t our area, but I understand. I hate seeing a Jeep or something all covered with mud. I know they’ve been in wetlands where they don’t belong.”

“Fighting the mud.” She knew she was making desperate conversation, trying to prolong the meeting a little, maybe get a little personal. Being close to him was having an unsettling effect on her, but she wanted more.

Julie Thomas intervened, almost pushing herself between them. “I have these papers for you, Logan. You’re supposed to read them or sign them or something.”

What a smug smile.
And does she have to sound so oily?
Candace hid her annoyance. “Then I guess I’d better get to work. I have a couple of places to check for salamanders now that we’ve had rain.”

Logan glanced at the papers Julie handed him. “I’ll take these with me to look at.” He looked up. “Wait a minute, Candace. I’ll walk out with you.”

She caught Julie’s expression of annoyance with a surge of amusement. Julie didn’t have to be so blatant.
And this time he chose me over her.

Logan joined her on the sidewalk. “If you’re heading in a direction of a good coffee shop . . .” He glanced behind him with a grimace. “Julie’s coffee leaves something to be desired and I need a good cup.”

“I suppose my route could take me that way.” She wondered, hoped, that maybe he thought Julie left something to be desired.

He asked, “Smiley’s?”

It was one of her favorite shops. Bob Smiley served great apricot filled donuts, the only place she knew that had them. “Sure.”

“So where are you heading?” Logan asked a while later. “It’s getting pretty colorful out there right now. I noticed the swamp maples have turned already.”

“I think it will be a great year for color. They say the North Country foliage is getting good.” She regarded him obliquely over her donut. “I’d like to go. Take a weekend even. And I need an excuse.” She tried to put a strong hint into her voice that maybe he could give her one.

He didn’t take the bait. “Yeah. That sounds good, but there’s too much to do.”

“There’s always work to do, but sometimes you need a break from it.”

He kept his eyes on his chocolate donut.

She couldn’t think of another line of suggestion.

“This is pretty country.” He looked up at her, meeting her eyes for a moment, and his gaze was intense. “Very pretty.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, her or the country.

He looked away. “I do want to see more of it.”

She thought fleetingly of the tidal pools she hadn’t gotten to this summer and almost said, “Well, then, let’s go see some of it,” but something held her back. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that. She said instead, “Columbus Day is traditionally peak color. It’s the best time to go north.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Thanks for stopping with me.”

She walked outside with him and watched him climb into his truck. What else could she do? He appeared to be interested, but how much? She said, “I have to check a couple of pools before the salamanders all go into hibernation.”

He paused with his hand on the ignition. “Anywhere near the Smiths?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He appeared to relax. “Good. Just take care, hear?”

“I’ll do that.”

She didn’t encounter any Smiths on her excursion but she did meet a couple of walkers who happily joined her in her search, but they found no salamanders.
This just isn’t my day.