Authors: Tori Scott
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, she looked up to see the man watching her from the door of the terminal. She thought of all the warnings her father had given her about strangers and was relieved when the man didn't follow her.
***
Logan listened carefully to the visiting nurse's instructions while Carol scribbled them onto a note pad. He couldn't help but worry that they'd made the wrong choice by bringing his dad home. A nursing home would be better qualified to take care of him, but when he'd mentioned that possibility, his father had panicked and grabbed his hand, begging him with his eyes not to do it.
When the nurse left and Charlie had fallen asleep, Logan went into his office and dialed his ex-wife's number. He let it ring until he was sure no one was home. Damn. He was worried about Katie. He hadn't heard from her since he took her back to Baton Rouge after the Christmas holidays, six months ago.
They'd had a great time in spite of the fact that he hated coming to the ranch, even for the holidays. Katie had kept him too busy to think about where he was. They'd played with Blue, and Katie had taught the dog a few tricks. They'd ridden his dad's old mule around the two hundred acres, watching for wildlife and identifying the different birds they saw.
He missed her. She was the one bright spot in an otherwise dreary life. When he wasn't with his daughter, he was at work, often putting in eighteen-hour days. The money was excellent, the work satisfying. Once, it had been enough, but lately he'd been feeling restless and frustrated. Not being able to talk to his daughter made it worse.
His letters were returned unopened and, when he called, Sue Ann told him Katie didn't want to talk to him. Even the dress he'd sent her for Easter was returned to the store and a credit issued to his credit card.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."
Carol opened the door and stepped inside. "Any luck?"
Logan sighed and shook his head. "No. There's no answer."
Carol walked over to where he sat behind his dad's desk and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry. I know you want to go to Baton Rouge and try to see her face to face. Maybe in a couple of weeks Dad will be strong enough for you to leave for a few days."
"Do you really think there's any chance of that? I don't think he's going to recover from this. You need to realize that it's a possibility. We may have to put him in a nursing home, after all."
Tears sprang to her eyes and she bit her lip. "I know. I hope that doesn't happen, but he's in worse shape than I thought. I can't understand him when he tries to talk and he's getting hard to handle. I've never seen him so ornery."
"We'll take it one day at a time and see what happens. I just wish I could talk to Katie, make sure she's okay. Then maybe I could resign myself to the fact that I have to spend the next few months stringing fence and plowing fields."
Carol put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I've always wondered why you hate this place so much. It's really not that bad, you know. I like being able to walk outside and see nothing but pasture for miles, and running into people I know in town."
Logan frowned and looked away. Carol was fishing for answers, but he didn't intend to give her any. She'd always looked up to him and he wasn't ready to destroy her faith in him. If she ever learned the truth….
***
Megan had just curled up on the navy and gray striped couch when the doorbell rang. Nancy was in the shower and Jean was in her room with the door closed, so she pulled herself to her feet with a weary sigh and opened the door. A pretty, raven-haired girl about twelve years old stared at her, one small hand clenched tightly around the strap of a bulging backpack.
"Where's my dad?" The girl's voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. She looked like she'd been drug through a wringer washer--backwards, at that.
"Well, I don't know honey. Who's your dad?"
"Logan Tanner. He lives here." The child made a valiant attempt to look cool and composed, but her quivering chin revealed her exhaustion and fear.
"Logan Tanner's your father? That makes you Carol's niece." Megan stuck her hand out. "I'm Megan, one of Carol's friends from college. But your Dad's not here. I'm subleasing the apartment from him."
"What do you mean, subleasing the apartment? He doesn't live here anymore?" The girl bit her bottom lip and clenched the backpack tighter with a trembling hand.
Megan could see the panic in her eyes. The poor child's face lost all color and she swayed on her feet. Not sure what else to do, she grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her inside. With an arm around her shoulder, Megan led her to the couch and gently pushed her into a sitting position. "You stay right there. I'm going to get you something to drink."
The oversized, double door refrigerator was still almost empty and she'd finished off the last of the tea, but she found a soft drink hidden behind a six-pack of beer. Nancy's, but it couldn't be helped. This was an emergency. She filled a glass with ice, then carried both back to the living room. "Now, why don't you know where your father is? Didn't he tell you he was moving away for a while?"
Fat tears welled up in the child's eyes. "I haven't heard from him in months. Mom says he's forgotten about me and that I should forget about him, too. But I want to hear him say he doesn't want me anymore." A lone tear spilled over and made a watery track down her grimy cheek. She wiped it away, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. "Maybe Mom's right, if he didn't even tell me he was moving."
"Hush now. Fathers don't forget their children. What's your name?" Megan sat cross-legged on the oak coffee table, poured the soft drink into the glass, and handed it to the distraught child.
"Katherine Elizabeth Tanner. My dad calls me Katie. Or Katydid, when he's teasing me."
"You see? That proves it. Fathers don't give their daughters nicknames if they don't care about them."
Hers hadn't, anyway. She'd always been Megan Colleen, no matter what tone of voice her father had used. "Where do you live?"
"Baton Rouge. I live with my mom, but I need to find my dad." She looked up with pleading storm-gray eyes. Do you know where he is?"
Baton Rouge!
That was more than four hundred miles away. "Where's your mom? Did she come with you?"
Katie shook her head. "I took a bus. I told Mom I was going camping with a friend's family. It'll take her a few days to figure out what happened."
Oh, good Lord. She was harboring a runaway. "Look, Katie. You need to call your mother and let her know where you are. I have your father's phone number around here somewhere. As soon as you let your mother know you're safe, we'll call your dad."
"No! I can't let her know where I am until I find my father. She'll make me go back home without seeing him. And I doubt she's home, anyway." She grabbed Megan's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Please. Will you take me to him?"
"Katie, I can't..."
"Fine. I'll find him myself." Katie flung Megan's hand aside, jumped up from the couch, and ran for the door. Megan caught her before she could get it open.
"Wait. You can't go wandering around by yourself. You could get kidnapped."
Katie snorted. "Who would want me? I'm just in everybody's way."
Megan's heart wrenched at the casual way Katie dismissed her own worth. She knew exactly how the child felt. "Honey, that's not true. I'm sure your parents love you. There has to be some reason you haven't heard from your dad."
Platitudes, but what else could she offer? "Look, you go sit back down and I'll find that number. We'll call your father and he can come get you. We'll let him work things out with your mother."
Katie's young face lit up with a brilliant smile. She threw her arms around Megan's neck and hugged her. "Thank you!" Then she skipped off to sit back on the couch, leaving Megan staring after her.
Jean's door opened just as Nancy reappeared in the living room, Chanel No. 5 preceding her in a cloud of overpowering scent. Katie wrinkled her nose and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Who's that?"
Nancy held her freshly polished nails in front of her. "Who's the kid? And what did you do to her to make her squeal like that?"
Katie drew herself up to her full five-foot height. "I don't squeal."
"Really?" Nancy made a production out of blowing on her nails. "Could've fooled me."
Megan stepped in between them. "Stop it. This is Katie, and she's looking for her dad--our landlord. Katie, this is Nancy, and that's Jean." She waved toward the bedroom doorway.
Nancy and Katie sized each other up, then Nancy grinned and said, "You need a bath, kiddo. The shower is all yours."
Katie rolled her eyes and turned back to Megan. "Could you find Dad's phone number? Please?"
Megan went to the roll-top desk in the corner and rifled through the drawers, looking for Logan's number. "Hang on. I know it's in here somewhere."
Katie walked over to the window and looked outside, then turned to Megan. "Do you have his new address?"
Megan found the elusive piece of paper and turned around, waving it in the air. "Found it. And the address is a post office box in Morris Springs."
Katie's face lit up. "Morris Springs! That's where my Grandpa lives." A crease formed between her brows as they scrunched together. "But why would my dad be there? He hates it."
Megan reached out and took Katie's hand. She hated to be the one to break the bad news. "Your grandfather's had a stroke, and your father and Carol are taking care of the farm." At Katie's stricken look, she rushed to add, "He's doing better, I think. Your dad is planning to move back here at the end of the summer."
Katie looked up with an expectant expression. "Would you drive me out there?"
CHAPTER TWO
"I can't believe I let myself be talked into this." Megan held the steering wheel with both hands, fighting the wind that threatened to push her small car off the road. "If your Aunt Carol hadn't insisted, I'd be home watching NCIS tonight."
Katie sat forward in the seat, excitement turning her face a rosy pink as she pointed out familiar landmarks. "You can watch it at Grandpa's. We're almost there."
"Thank God. I don't think I could drive another mile in this wind. My hands hurt, my head hurts, my butt's numb, and I haven't seen anything besides red dirt and tumbleweeds for miles." Megan loved every bit of the countryside, in spite of her complaints. Not a skyscraper or traffic jam in sight. Nothing but wide-open spaces and intriguing small towns.
Katie studied the map Megan had drawn from Carol's detailed instructions, then watched the passing road signs as Megan drove slowly down the main street of Morris Springs.
An old brick courthouse dominated the center of town, with carefully tended shops lining the square around it. Two old men sat on a wrought-iron bench on the courthouse lawn, a checkerboard between them. Women chatted as they walked into a two-story teahouse that doubled as a bed and breakfast.
Several pickup trucks were parked in front of the Prairie Dog Café, their tires crusted with red dirt, sacks of feed filling the beds. A gleaming white gazebo dominated one corner of the square, and children played tag as parents watched from the shaded benches. Antique stores and a library lined the opposite street.
It was one of the warmest, most inviting towns she'd ever visited. It looked like a place you could be proud to call home.
"Turn here!" Katie yelled, sitting on the edge of her seat. Megan told her to put her seat belt back on and made a right turn, away from the picturesque town.
***
Katie opened the car door and hopped out before Megan could put the car in park, then ran headlong into the arms of the tall, dark-haired man who stepped out onto the wide front porch of the ranch-style brick house. Megan sat in the car and stared.