Forever and Always (21 page)

Without warning, Logan's body began to convulse so violently the bed shook. Sibyl's first impulse was to call for help, but there was no one to call. The next was to go for the doctor, but she couldn't leave Logan unattended. What if he died while she was gone? His eyes flew open, and a thin line of drool ran down his chin. Unable to do anything else, she tried to wipe his mouth, but his head moved from side to side too quickly. Then just as suddenly, the convulsions stopped. The relief that flooded through her turned to horror.

Logan had stopped breathing!

“No!” The word burst from her unbidden. A feeling she would be unable to explain later—that the death of Logan somehow stood for everything that had been denied her—took her firmly in its grasp. Rage surged through her with the speed of a flash flood. This was brutally unfair, and she wouldn't stand for it. Balling up her fist, she hit Logan squarely in the chest.

“Don't you dare do this to me!” she shouted. “I didn't ask for you to come into my life! I didn't want you to be so wonderful my daughter would pray for you, or that some flea-bitten stray would be lying outside the door whining because he thinks you're dying. I didn't want to fall in love again, not with you or anyone else.” She hit him again. “It's not fair!” The futility of what she was doing overcame her, and she pounded out her anger on Logan's chest.

A wall inside her broke, and all the emotions she had held back for years came spilling out like water from a broken dam. She abandoned the restraint she'd practiced for so long it had become second nature. She forgot to care what anyone, not even her own self, would think of her at this moment. Hers weren't the tears one sheds after the death of a near stranger. They weren't even the tears of a grown woman who'd experience many sorrows in her life. They were gut-wrenching cries brought forth by the crushing loss of hope, the unbearable weight of loss, and the nearly physical pain of despair. Falling across Logan's body, her own body shaking from the force of her heartbreak, she sobbed out her misery.

“Mommy! Please don't cry. It scares me.”

Sibyl's sob ended in a hiccup. Regardless of her own pain, she couldn't hurt her daughter. Struggling to pull herself together, she wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. With eyes still swimming with tears that nearly blocked her vision, she stumbled to the door and opened it. She was aware of Trusty slipping by her into the room, but her only concern was for her daughter.

“I'm all right,” she reassured Kitty.

“Why were you shouting? You sounded mad at Logan.”

She was angry at him for leaving her, but she didn't think Kitty would understand that. “I wasn't mad at Logan. I was just upset that he…” She'd almost said
that he'd died
. Kitty had to be told sometime, but not while she was still upset. “I didn't mean to shout. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“I wasn't asleep. I was waiting for you to tell me Logan was better.”

Sibyl had thought she would choke on her own sadness. Now she realized her daughter's loss would be just as great. “I'm sorry, darling, but Logan isn't better.”

“Why not?”

“He had a seizure. I'm afraid it was a very bad one.” She was a coward. Why didn't she just come out and tell her daughter that Logan had died?

“Why is Trusty licking his face?”

Sibyl had forgotten about the dog, but what harm could licking the face of a dead man do? Then it struck her.
Dogs don't lick the faces of their masters after they've died. They howl their own sadness.
Not knowing what to think, she turned and hurried to Logan's bedside. What she saw nearly caused her to swoon.

He was breathing. The faint rise and fall of his chest was unmistakable. She thought she had exhausted her tears, but they flowed again, even more rapidly than before. She didn't know whose prayer had been answered, but it didn't matter. Logan was breathing. She wanted to tell Trusty to stop licking his face, that it was unsanitary, but she was too weak with relief to form the words. Kitty did it for her.

“Dr. Kessling said you have to stay outside,” she told the dog. “He said you might have something that would make Logan sicker. You want him to get better, don't you?”

Sibyl didn't know whether or not the dog understood, but he let Kitty push him from the room and close the door on him.

“I want to stay with you,” Kitty said to her mother. “That way you won't be so sad.”

Words failed Sibyl. Instead she pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. She tried to hold back her tears, but she was so overcome by a multitude of emotions that she couldn't stop.

Troubled, Kitty asked, “Why are you still sad?”

“I'm not sad,” her mother told her. “I'm happy Logan is still alive, and I'm thankful to have a wonderful daughter like you.”

“I don't cry when I'm happy and thankful. Is that bad?”

“No, darling. Most people laugh when they're happy. Some even sing or dance. But there are some who need quiet to enjoy their happiness. Then there are a few, like your mother, who cry because they're so thankful they can't stand it.”

“Will I cry when I grow up?”

“Probably not.”

“But I want to be like you. Peter says he's going to be exactly like Uncle Colby. Aunt Naomi says he's already much worse.”

Sibyl laughed, this time without tears. “You're a wonderful little girl, and you're going to grow up to be a wonderful woman who's not a bit like her sentimental mother.”

“What's
sentimental
? Why wouldn't I like to be it?”

This time when Sibyl laughed, she really felt like it. She wondered how she would ever have survived without her daughter. “You're too practical. You're a lot like your Aunt Naomi.”

“I love Aunt Naomi, but I'd rather be like you.”

“Well, I want you to be exactly like yourself. Now I want you to go back to bed. I'm not sad anymore, so you don't have to stay with me.”

Kitty turned her gaze to where Logan lay in the bed. “What will we do if he doesn't get better?”

Sibyl knew the answer to that question—go on living because they had no other choice—but she chose not to face it yet. “I'm sure he's going to get better. Dr. Kessling is working very hard to find out what's wrong with him.”

“I love Logan. Do you think he loves me?”

“I know he does, and he'll do everything he can to get well and make you happy. Now you have to go back to bed. Tomorrow we have to work very hard to take care of Logan.”

“Can I take Trusty with me?”

“If you think he will go.”

But despite Kitty's entreaties, Trusty refused to leave his position outside the door. Sibyl knew how he felt. She couldn't imagine leaving Logan's bedside until the doctor returned. She had no idea why his heart had stopped beating, and she understood even less why it should have started beating again—it
had
stopped. She was sure of it—but she couldn't leave because it might happen again. So she would stay. Wasn't that what a woman in love would do?

She no longer questioned her feelings for Logan nor did she bother to ask how it could have happened. Her reaction when she thought he'd died left no room for doubt. Now she had to do everything she could to make sure he got well. She had something very important to tell him.

* * *

Logan woke to find Sibyl staring straight into his eyes. Where was he? What happened? How did he get here? The enormous room was completely unfamiliar. The four-poster bed he lay in was as big as a small room. The dark, imposing furniture was as heavy and gloomy as the brocade curtains. Only the mossy green wallpaper kept the room from feeling like a dungeon.

“How are you feeling?” Sibyl asked.

“Extremely weak. I can't lift my head. What happened to me?”

“You had several seizures. The doctor has been to check on you twice, but he can't figure out what brought them on.”

“Where am I?”

“You're in my house. Taking you back to your camp was out of the question, and I didn't think sending you to the hotel was any better.”

Logan tried to rise, but he was too weak. “I can't stay here. It's not right.”

“Why not? You're sick, and you need someone to tend you. I have the time, and I have plenty of room. I can hire a nurse and someone to cook for us. It seems like the most logical arrangement to me.”

Logan could barely summon the energy to keep his thoughts straight, but he knew he shouldn't be in Sibyl's house. “I can't stay here.”

“Well, no one is going to remove you, and you're not strong enough to leave on your own. So I suggest you concentrate on trying to get better.”

“But what will people say?”

“Half of the town has made a pathway to my door. They all want to know how you're doing and asked if they can do anything to help.”

“I can't let you turn yourself into a nurse for me.”

Sibyl smiled so brightly he thought he might pass out. “You're in no position to do anything about it, so you might as well accept it. Trusty is outside the door. He's been whining all night. I hope you can assure him that you're doing better. He should go outside. I doubt he's housebroken. Kitty was the only one of the children I let in to see you, but I doubt I can keep Peter out much longer. And if I let him in, Esther and Little Abe will want in, too. They're very worried about you.”

Warmth and embarrassment battled inside Logan, but warmth won out. “I'd like to eat something first. But as soon as I can sit up, I want to see the children.”

Sibyl stood. “I'll go warm up the broth. Kitty can keep you company until I get back.”

“Where is she?”

“She's been keeping vigil outside your door since she got up.”

Logan had always felt his father cared about him, but he realized he'd never known what love was like until he came to Cactus Corner. Of all the unexpected places to find it. “I don't know how to thank you for what you've done.”

“Then don't try.” Sibyl opened the door.

Someone had found a rope and put it around Trusty's neck. He practically pulled Kitty into the room, but she kept him from reaching the bed.

“Mama said I couldn't bring him in unless I had a rope on him,” she told Logan. “He licked your face last night.” Trusty kept trying to reach Logan.

“I'd better take the dog with me,” Sibyl said. “Otherwise you'll spend all your time trying to keep him off Logan. I don't know what you did to him. I've never seen such loyalty in a dog. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes to heat up the broth.”

After Sibyl and Trusty left, Kitty moved the chair next to Logan's bed and seated herself. “Mama said you were very sick. She thought you died, but I knew you hadn't. I prayed you would get well. The preacher says if we're sincere and want something good with all our hearts, that it will come true. That's why I knew you wouldn't die.”

Logan couldn't think of anything to say, but it wouldn't have done him any good if he had. He was so choked up he couldn't speak.

“Peter said I was a fool. Peter can be very rude sometimes. He said you were going to die, that they'd put you in the ground, and you'd rot like a dead carcass. But I could tell he didn't want you to die. He just said it because he was afraid.”

“Thank you for your prayers. I'm sure they helped.”

“Mama prayed, too. She didn't say anything, but I know she did.”

“How could you tell?”

“I wasn't asleep. I heard her shouting. She said she didn't want to fall in love with you, that it wasn't fair. Then she started crying real loud. I got scared so I came in to stay with her. Trusty started licking your face, and Mama started crying again, but this time she said she was crying because she was happy you hadn't died. She says grown-ups sometimes cry when they're really, really happy. Do you cry when you're happy?”

Logan could hardly collect his thoughts enough to say, “No. I don't.”

Sibyl loved him. It was almost impossible to believe, but surely she wouldn't have said something like that if she hadn't meant it. But why would she love him? How
could
she? He was a stranger who'd avoided telling her anything important about himself. He was dying, and he looked like a gargoyle. He dressed like a hobo, he'd just collapsed in front of her, and he'd made a mess in her bank foyer. What could there be to love about that?

“Do you love Mama?”

Shock riveted Logan's mind. “Why would you ask that?”

“I asked Mama if she thought you loved me, and she said she was sure you did.”

“Of course I do,” Logan said, relieved to have sidestepped the question. “Who couldn't love a sweet little girl like you?”

“Peter says I'm a goody two-shoes. Is that bad?”

Logan almost laughed. “Peter is just jealous he isn't as nice as you.”

“No, he's not. Peter
likes
being bad.”

“I don't think Peter is really very terrible.”

“I heard Aunt Naomi say he was a
bête noire
. I asked her what that meant, but she said to ignore her, that she was just out of temper.”

“I think it means Peter had tried her patience.”

“Aunt Naomi says Peter tries everybody's patience. One time she threatened to send him back to Santa Fe. Peter was good for almost a week.”

Logan had been so afraid his new father might be sorry he adopted him that he hadn't done anything bad
ever
. He was nearly an adult before he could sleep without fear of what might happen the next day. He could understand how Peter felt.

“Do you love Mama?”

Logan hadn't known a child's mind could be so tenacious. He'd been certain Kitty had forgotten all about her question. “Why do you want to know?”

“If Mama loves you, you have to love her back. Then she will be really, really happy. But I won't like it if she cries all the time.”

“I'm sure she won't cry all the time. You mother likes to laugh and have fun.”

Kitty shook her head. “Mama never did that.”

“Why not?” Logan thought of Sibyl on the day of the celebration. She'd been full of high spirits, even dragging him into a three-legged race, something he could never have imagined her doing when he first got to know her.