Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (23 page)

what kind of goddamn cereal they liked. His resolution lasted up to the

very weird experience of knocking on the door that used to be his own,

but not much beyond it since the person opening it turned out to be

Linda.

He should have been better prepared to face his wife, but for

some reason Logan had assumed that his sister-in-law, Marie, would be

the liaison that evening. Suddenly he realized he was standing frozen in

the doorway and hadn‘t even returned Linda‘s greeting. He got hold of

himself and choked out, ―Hi, Linda.‖

As he trailed her into their old living room, Logan was nagged by

the feeling that something was different in Linda‘s appearance, until it

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139

hit him: her formerly soft brown hair was now platinum blonde.

Belatedly, he told her, ―You look good.‖ An awkward pause followed

before he added, ―You changed your hair.‖

Linda nodded before answering, ―I thought you were gonna say

somethin‘ about the scars all bein‘ gone.‖

A memory of Linda as he‘d seen her last—bruised and

bandaged—assaulted him without warning, along with a wave of

shame and guilt from which he‘d been hiding for six months. The

sensation almost made him retch, but he fought through it with no

outward symptom except a hacking cough.

There was still no sign of Krista or Meghan, so it was Linda who

brought him a glass of water. He thanked her before laying the blame

for the incident on his pack-a-day habit. ―Been thinkin‘ of quittin‘,‖ he

added.

―I did.‖

―Quit?‖

―Yeah,‖ Linda answered as she settled on the couch. ―They

wouldn‘t let me smoke in the hospital, and by the time I got out, I was

pretty near to quittin‘, so I figured, what the hell?‖

The mention of her hospital stay brought on aftershocks of guilt,

and Logan made a sudden decision. He glanced nervously towards the

bedrooms and asked, ―Where‘re the girls?‖

―They‘re packin‘ up. You know how they are—you‘d think they

were gonna be away for a month.‖

Logan nodded and, before he lost his nerve, parked himself in the

chair across from her. With no preamble, he said, ―Last time we talked,

you were sayin‘ how… how I never told you direct that I was sorry for

what I did. Well, you were right. But I‘m sayin‘ it now. I am sorry,

Linda.‖

Tears sprang up in her eyes, and she reached for the glass of water

she‘d brought for him. After a few small sips, Linda whispered, ―Thank

you.‖

―Yeah, well, guess it was long overdue.‖

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Linda nodded, saying, ―It sure was.‖ She took her own peek at the

hallway before continuing. ―Can you tell me why, Logan? Why it took

ya so long?‖

Logan just shook his head. No words came to him, not any that

his wife wanted to hear. The good feeling he‘d enjoyed after that

―thank you‖ had lasted all of five seconds. When Linda said, ―Guess

we‘ll talk about that on Wednesday,‖ Logan felt the world closing in on

him again.

It wasn‘t anything Linda had said—Logan guessed she had the

right to say that, and more. It was that he saw his feet being set back on

that same old path, that grim death march of a life where he was always

doing more than he wanted but less than he should. Where every day

was a sacrifice that was never enough and couldn‘t be appreciated—or

even shared.

Thankfully Krista appeared right then, dragging a suitcase and

beaming at her dad. Meghan was bringing up the rear, carrying her own

overloaded bag and already talking about the weekend. Logan ushered

them out of the apartment as quickly as was decent. When Linda

reminded him to have the girls back on time on Sunday, it was all he

could do not to enthusiastically retort, ―Don‘t worry!‖

On the short drive to his apartment, Logan let the happy chatter of

the girls flow over him while he contemplated his plans for Sunday

afternoon. A brushfire of shame burned through him as he considered

the reason he had no intention of getting his daughters back home late.

What would they think? What would his daughters, or his wife—or

anyone—say if they knew? Knew that Logan was counting the hours

until he could be with a man? Logan understood precisely what they‘d

think and was well acquainted with the words they‘d fling at him. He‘d

heard it all often enough from his father and brother.

Well, they don’t know,
Logan argued back to his scolding

conscience.
No one does—or has to
. He didn‘t care that meeting Nick

wouldn‘t solve any of his problems, might even make some worse. For

the first time in a long while, Logan Crane had done
exactly
what he‘d

wanted to do. For the first time ever, he‘d tasted pure freedom and

unfettered joy—and no power on earth was going to stop him from

going back for more.

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

141

Chapter 11:

Things We Give

Secrets are things we give to others to keep for us.

—Elbert Hubbard

THOUGH Logan was watching his elder daughter, his body was

attuned to the ticking of the clock behind him. He‘d hoped to feed the

girls their lunch quickly, since it was already after twelve, but Krista

was taking longer to make a sandwich than Logan did to shop for the

fixings. ―Somethin‘ wrong, Krista?‖

―Is this all you‘ve got?‖ She waved her hand dismissively at the

paper-wrapped packages of cold cuts.

―Bologna and chip-chopped ham, yeah. What‘s the problem?‖

Krista‘s mouth twitched before replying, ―They‘re both so

fattening, Dad. You know I only eat turkey breast.‖

As a matter of fact, Logan didn‘t know that but figured it best not

to admit it.
Was this something recent? He could have sworn she used

to love chip-chopped ham….

In the meantime, Meghan munched potato chips and toyed with

her meal. Pulling a slice of bologna out from between the pieces of

bread, she surveyed it, saying, ―Maybe we should‘ve gone out for

lunch.‖

Logan shook his head at both girls, sighing, ―We went out for

lunch and dinner yesterday.‖ He plunked his own sandwich on a paper

plate and parked himself at the small table across from Meghan. ―I

gotta get you girls home in less ‘an a hour, and you ain‘t even packed

up yet. If you don‘t want a sandwich, Krista, there‘s canned soup in the

cupboard.‖

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―Soup?‖ Krista exclaimed, her tone more appropriate to a

suggestion of fresh blood than Campbell‘s tomato soup. ―It‘s too hot

for that.‖

To Logan‘s thinking, both girls had seemed frequently peevish

and whiny over the weekend, so he had trouble dredging up much

sympathy for Krista‘s dilemma. ―Then if you don‘t wanna go hungry, I

guess you‘ll have to settle for ham or bologna.‖

With nothing more than an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her

eyes, Krista complied with her dad‘s directive, though she only deigned

to fix a half-sandwich.

Twenty minutes later, on the drive to the Palisade Manor

apartment, Meghan‘s cat was on her mind—as it had been for much of

the visit. ―Boots is sure gonna be happy to see me. Poor little guy, I

hope he wasn‘t too lonely.‖ She turned to her dad, speculating, ―Maybe

we can bring him with us next time. Whaddya think?‖

His eyes still on the road, Logan countered, ―My landlady doesn‘t

allow pets, honey. I‘m sure your cat was just fine with your mom.‖

―Nuh-uh! He sleeps with me, Dad, and Mom doesn‘t let him up in

her bed.‖

Logan was tempted to ask Meghan if her damn cat was more

important than spending time with her dad, but he refrained from

posing the question since, in the first place, he wasn‘t sure he‘d win

that contest, and in the second place, his mind was mostly fixed on his

upcoming rendezvous with Nick.

Actually his mind had been on Nick for most of the morning, but

now his body was getting into the act. Sweat beaded on his forehead

and his pulse sped up whenever he thought of how soon he‘d be seeing

the man in the flesh. Literally.

When they pulled up in front of the apartment building, Logan

considered just dropping the girls off at the door, since his chance of

making it to the motel in Pittsburgh by two p.m. was growing slimmer;

moreover, he had no desire for another encounter with Linda. It was a

short struggle with his conscience. No way was he going to let his little

girls drag their suitcases up the stairs unassisted.

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

143

The reward for his sacrifice was a stilted exchange with Linda

and a five-minute introduction to Boots that included Meghan talking

for the cat in a high-pitched, singsong voice and insisting ―Dad‖ give

his kitten son a peck on the head.

After a hurried conference about next week‘s visitation, Logan

made good his escape. He clattered down the staircase, musing that he

had a much more satisfactory kissing partner in the offing. He squealed

into the parking lot of the Motel Six on two wheels at five minutes after

two, half-relieved, half-concerned that there was no sign of Nick‘s

black Jeep. He shed his disappointment with the thought that Nick was

often a little late and there was no real need for worry. Nick wasn‘t the

kind of guy to stand somebody up.

Besides, the delay afforded Logan a chance to pay for the room

this time—he didn‘t want Nick paying every time they got together.

Back when Logan was meeting up with Linda, he‘d always paid for the

motel, and he didn‘t need Nick treating him like some goddamn girl.

As he sat in the truck waiting, jiggling the room key and thinking over

that last encounter while stewing about the upcoming one, Logan

started to get annoyed that Nick hadn‘t given him the chance to split the

cost of the room the previous Sunday.
Maybe he’s already treatin’ me

like a fuckin’ woman… and he don’t even know yet that I… that maybe

I….
Logan felt all the spit dry up in his mouth, and he swallowed

several times before he could moisten his tongue enough to breath

easily.

The previous night, Logan had lain awake long after he‘d heard

the girls drift off to sleep on his sofa bed. The cause for his insomnia

wasn‘t the hard floorboards underneath him but rather his restless mind.

He couldn‘t help wondering what they were going to do this time.

Would it be like last time? Or would they do more? If so, how was it

that two men decided which way it would go? Did Nick have any idea

what Logan wanted? And the biggest question of all: did Logan even

want
Nick to know?

Now, so close to time zero, those same questions pressed on

Logan more insistently. Staring at the floorboard, trying to get his

wayward nerves and frenzied emotions under control, Logan was

startled by a rap on the passenger window. All of his anxiety, all of his

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worry and frustrations, were blown away when he caught sight of a

smiling Nick Zales.

Logan felt himself smiling back—an instantaneous, involuntary

reaction; a smile that required more than just his lips and teeth. It called

his heart and mind up for duty, too. Before he could shut it down, an

acknowledgment flitted through his mind: heretofore, that particular

smile had been reserved for his daughters alone.

NICK‘S effort to get to the hospital as soon as visiting hours allowed so

he could spend a few hours with his mom before racing to the motel

was well rewarded when he saw Logan‘s slow-burning smile spark into

full flame.

Neither man was smiling when they slipped unobtrusively into

the room—number six, this time—a minute later. Nick was surprised

by how much anxiety was mixed with his arousal; his tension wasn‘t

alleviated by noting that Logan looked distinctly pale.
Shit, what the

hell is wrong with us?

When he saw Logan turn to the nightstand and drop his watch

onto it, Nick decided to simply follow his instincts. For seven long

days, he‘d been aching to touch this man, so he quickly advanced on

Logan and slipped his arms around that slim, masculine waist. With his

head on Logan‘s shoulder, Nick whispered, ―I missed you.‖

Logan‘s gruff reply, ―It‘s only been a week,‖ was belied by the

way he sagged back against Nick and pulled Nick‘s arms tighter to his

body.

Nick lifted his lips from the path they were making across