Like Never Before (13 page)

At the end of the table, Raegan let out a whoop as she flicked a donut past Colton's makeshift goal—two Styrofoam cups. Behind them, muted sunlight attempted its way in through a recessed window at the top of the wood-paneled wall.

“I've got an idea for music but gotta make sure Rae won't hate me first.”

Bear McKinley may not have had his full attention last night—not with Amelia at the table. Not with the peek into her past she'd offered. Like peering through a keyhole, seeing just enough of a room to want to barge the rest of the way in. And he might've if her sister hadn't shown up.

But he'd heard enough of Bear's playing to know the guy would make a great addition to the fundraiser. Live entertainment during a catered meal. A fancy one. Give people a reason to dress up and go out, a spritzy, springy event after a long winter.

They could pull it together in three weeks. Couldn't they?

Another cheer broke out from the other end of the table. Colton, apparently, with the winning goal.

Okay,
Logan
could pull it off.

“I may have officially retired from the game of football, but at least I can still champion one sport.” Colton stood, looked to Logan. “So we're done.”

“Sure.”

“He says with a sigh of resignation.” Kate patted his arm. “Don't worry, brother. Last fall Colton conjured a last-minute fundraiser at the depot. You heard about that, right? City was
talking about closing it after all the tornado damage. Colton got some of his NFL friends to come and do a train pull with the football team. On less than a week's notice. Raised enough for the repairs.”

“Colton did that, huh?”

“Fine, I might've helped him. A lot. And Seth and Rae and Ava and everyone else. But still, it all came together. This thing will too.”

He wanted to believe her. And if he was honest with himself, it wasn't really this fundraiser poking his mood today.

It was the lingering anxiety from Rick O'Hare's consternation yesterday.

It was missing Charlie her first full night away from him.

It was Amelia. It was the fact that he'd spent half a restless night thinking about her. And thinking about how he shouldn't be thinking about her.

The scraping of metal chairs jabbed into his attention. “Maybe if we'd met at Dad's, we would've been more productive. Or at the Parker House itself.”

Kate tugged him out of his chair. “Yes, but Dad already has three adult children, one adult nephew, and a grandchild crashing at his place. And the Parker House is getting new carpet today. Only on the second floor, though. My man listened to my advice and restored all the original hardwood downstairs.”

Her man. Logan draped his arm around his sister. “You're happy, yeah?”

“Like a bookworm in a library.”

“You know if you and Colt hurried up and got married—”

“We've been officially dating all of two months, bro.”

“I'm just saying, then Dad wouldn't have such a full house.”

“Yeah, but Colton's smarter than to propose when I'm in the middle of rewrites on a book. He'll wait until after deadline, when I'm sane enough to enjoy it.” Kate snickered, but the way
she looked at Colton, now talking to a teenager in the corner, Logan guessed she'd marry the guy tomorrow if he asked.

“Hey, that's Webster, right?”

“That's him.”

The lanky high schooler with Colton wore sweatbands on his wrists and baggy shorts. Logan had heard plenty about the young wide receiver and foster kid Colton had trained with last fall. Training turned into mentoring, which had turned into the inspiration for the Parker House.

“I snagged a good one, didn't I?'

“You did. Although I don't know why he's doing this fundraiser in Maple Valley when he could've done a golf tournament back in California or something. Reeled in a few celebrities and made five times what he'll make here.”

“Because he's not after money so much as community support. Wants each town he builds a house in to really take ownership. This is a way to spark that.”

Logan glanced at the scribbled notes he'd taken during the meeting. “I wish The Red Door did catering, because that'd make it easy and—”

Kate tugged the notes from his hands. “It's Saturday. It's sunny and warm. Go pick up Charlie. Take her to the park or something. Colt took me on a picnic in that old corncrib in Millers' Field last fall. Remember when we used to play there? Charlie would love that—”

“That rusty old thing? That's just asking for tetanus. And possibly a rat sighting.”

“Let her experience true Iowa playtime. Make a day of it. Ask Amelia along.”

“Why would I ask Amelia along?”

Kate rapped his notes against his chest. “Raegan once told me I'm no good at playing dumb. Same could be said of you, big brother.”

She closed the half-empty box of donuts and pushed in her chair, then gave him a grin packed with cheeky implication and bounded off toward Colton.

Kate could infer whatever she wanted about his friendship with Amelia. And maybe she wasn't entirely off base with whatever conclusion she'd drawn. Maybe they did have a surprising connection, enigmatic. Maybe, definitely, that's what'd kept him awake last night.

But a couple weeks, a penchant for banter, a temporary working relationship . . .

Well, it was just that: temporary.

And he wasn't about to open himself up to any kind of possibility that already had a built-in expiration date. Not with Charlie to think about. Not with his career on the brink of really taking off.

Kate helped him clear the remainder of the napkins and cups, flicked off the lights on their way out. Outside, the April day beckoned. Sunlight skated over the lineup of buildings, brick and pastel—the
News
office, the coffee shop, the bridal store. Across the street, the river rested still and blue.

And down the block was the person he'd managed to avoid ever since that morning in the lawyer's office. Jenessa Belville carried a paper bag in each arm, clipped stride accented by her heels.

The second she saw him, she grimaced, her glare like Barbara Stanwyck's in that one film noir flick Mom loved. The one where Stanwyck plotted to kill her husband. Jenessa looked away, crossed the street, made for the riverfront walkway.

“Not my biggest fan.”

Kate gave a
hmm
and a shake of her head. “Her dad's awfully sick. Her mom's an alcoholic. Her husband's only home a few months of the year.”

He turned to his sister. “I didn't realize about her mom.”

“One of those things everybody in town knows but nobody talks about. She's got a lot on her shoulders, though.”

A clatter sounded across the street, and they both turned to see Jenessa bending, broken grocery bag and items scattering over the sidewalk.

Kate started forward, but he stopped her. “I'll go.”

He jogged across the street, but by the time he'd reached Jenessa, she'd already re-piled almost all the groceries in her ripped bag. He knelt anyway, rescued a rolling can of soup.

“I don't need your help.”

Surely not even Barbara Stanwyck could've pulled off the spite bulleting from Jenessa's expression. Black hair in waves and milky white skin marred by the faintest red marks on her cheeks. Had she been crying?

“Jen, that bag isn't going to hold.”

He tried to reach for it as they straightened, but she jerked it away, ignoring the bag of spaghetti that toppled out. “Leave me alone, Logan.”

“I'm just trying—”

“What don't you understand here? I don't want your help. I don't need your help. Go away.”

She whipped around, the too-sweet scent of her perfume jarring against the malice lingering in her wake. And something else.

Hurt.
He'd seen it in the tear streaks on her face. The sag in her voice not even her anger could hide.

“I could give you a ride,” he called after her.

She didn't even acknowledge him. Just kept walking.

He bent to pick up the spaghetti. Carried it back across the street and dropped into his car with a sigh. This week felt like such a mess. Broken equipment at the paper. Charlie getting hurt. Jenessa. And of course, Theo's never-ending slew of check-in emails. It was as if he was convinced Logan wasn't coming back.

He leaned his head against the headrest. Wished for a redo on this morning. Maybe this whole week.
Except for last night.
The open mic night. Amelia.

But no, last night, too. Because it might've been fun, but was it really worth the unsettling eddy swirling in his stomach now?

Why does every move I make lately feel like the wrong one? I thought coming
home was the right thing, God, but now . . .

Now he was sitting in his car half-praying to a God he'd pretty much ignored for years. Why, he didn't even know.

All he did know was he'd come home to sell a newspaper and spend time with his daughter. And he wasn't making progress on either.

The disquiet stayed with him, a second passenger in the car, as he drove to Rick and Helen's. The neighborhood thinned out as he reached the border of town. His in-laws lived on the last stretch of street before the city limits gave way to sweeping fields. He parked in their driveway.

Put it all away for now. The newspaper, the fundraiser, Jenessa.

Amelia.

And focus on Charlie. Just for today, just for now, just be a
dad.

He turned off the car.

But he hadn't even climbed out before Rick emerged from the backyard. His father-in-law waited beside the car as Logan unfolded from the driver's seat. “Hey, Rick.”

“You're here earlier than planned.”

“I seem to remember getting the opposite charge back when Emma and I were dating.” He said the words with intentional lightness, hoping the memory might erase some of yesterday's rigidity.

Rick offered a slight smile. “Yes, though you only missed curfew once, I'll hand you that. Listen, I'm wondering if you'd mind if we kept Charlie the rest of the weekend.”

An instant
no
jetted up his throat, but he clamped his lips around the instinctive response. “I was hoping to spend time with her this afternoon.”

“She's had such a good time the past day. You wouldn't even know she fell out of a tree yesterday.”

There it was again, that undercurrent of accusation. “She didn't fall—”

Rick waved off the argument. “I'm just saying, I think it's been good for her, this past twenty-four hours. And we've enjoyed it. We hardly ever have the chance to be grandparents in person.” He stepped closer. “You went to Boston at Christmas instead of coming home. We barely saw her when you were here in February.”

Why did he get the feeling he was being railroaded?

“Logan, I haven't seen my wife this happy since Emma died.”

The clincher. Everything in him argued. This was supposed to be
his
time with his daughter. But he read the words Rick wasn't saying.

Logan had taken Emma to California.

He'd kept Charlie in California.

Least he could do was let her grandparents spend a weekend with her. His nod was heavy with resignation.

She didn't know why she was here.

Amelia's gaze hooked on the sun-drenched yard that unfolded into a rolling field opposite Case Walker's house. Black soil turned and ready for seed. She breathed in spring and expectation, the scent of freshly mown grass and white cherry blossoms.

“I thought I saw someone out here.”

The sound of a screen door tapping shut followed Case's voice. His shadow poured over the porch steps.

“Hey, Mr. Walker. Sorry to camp out on your steps.” She laced her fingers over her knees.

“I seem to recall telling you to call me Case.” He lowered beside her. “Probably about three hundred times.”

“Sorry.” It was something about the man. He gave off a regal vibe. Somehow commanding and mild all at once.

“You apologize a lot, you know that?”

“Sor—” She caught herself with her first grin since this morning. Since walking out on Eleanor.

“So which of my kids are you waiting for? Few weeks ago I would've guessed Rae, but lately you and Logan are together more than you and Rae.”

True. So true, in fact, she'd gotten used to seeing him on a daily basis. Maybe, probably, that's why she'd come here, a mix of whim and desire. She'd never made a friend this quickly, not one who managed to draw out her secrets.

Well, not all her secrets.

“Waiting for Logan. Although he'll laugh at me when he finds out why.”

“Good.” Case drawled the word, the creases bracketing his smile deepening at her raised eyebrows. “He doesn't laugh enough, my son. So you go ahead and say whatever you came to say and make him laugh.”