The last week of May started unseasonably warm and muggy with rain most every day, but nothing could dampen Darcy’s mood.
Tomorrow was the start of the three-day Memorial Day weekend. The clinic would be closed throughout, except for emergencies, and since she’d chosen Shaker-style kitchen cabinets that were available in the warehouse, they were already being delivered this afternoon.
Marilyn looked up from her computer screen. “I thought you were leaving at noon,” she said with a smile. “Sounds like you have an exciting day.”
“I’m on my way out now. And yes—you have no idea how thrilled I am to be almost done with the house. Just the cupboards, countertops and then some bathroom remodeling are left, and then everything will be done. For now, anyway.”
Marilyn looked back at her screen. “It looks like Dr. Maxwell will be out on calls until four. Is he helping you tonight?”
“We’re starting after supper, if all goes well.”
“I guess you got a good deal at that auction in more ways than one.” Marilyn winked. “How is everything going with you two?”
Darcy shrugged, trying to contain her smile. “Pretty well, I think. We’ve been meeting at one house or the other for supper since the Sunday school picnic on Saturday. Emma is delighted because she gets to see the horses more often. And of course, she thinks Logan is her hero.”
And, Darcy admitted only to herself, with each passing day she and Logan were becoming closer. Just the sound of his voice made her blood thrum in her veins, and every hour spent with him made her realize that she’d been truly blessed to find someone so wonderful.
It was way too soon to be thinking about a future together. But maybe, someday, if all went well...
“Just so you know, Kaycee and I will both be out of town this weekend. She’s going to take her brother and sister to see relatives in Madison, and I’ll be going to the Twin Cities with my husband.”
“See you Tuesday, then. Travel safe.” Darcy headed out the rear entryway and started to climb behind the wheel of her car.
“Wait!” Marilyn stood at the back door, waving frantically. “You need to see this.”
Darcy followed her into the clinic. “What’s up?”
Marilyn scurried down the hall ahead of her.
“It’s on my computer screen. I...um, don’t usually look at Facebook while I’m here.” She gave an embarrassed little shrug. “But I was just starting to eat lunch at my desk. I happened to take a peek at my profile, and this came up in my feed. I don’t know who this is—he calls himself the Aspen Creek Sentinel. His posts pop up now and then, usually about something around town, and he’s often a little snide. A lot of locals comment on his posts. But this...”
Darcy leaned over to read the post. It had been shared from a newspaper website in Montana and included a photo of a beautiful young woman. The snippet of headline read Convicted of Fraud and Embezzlement, Woman Goes Free.
Darcy stared, her mouth suddenly dry. “Can you click on the link?”
“I already read it, and I printed it off. It’s not good news. Did you know about this?”
Darcy felt her stomach twist into a cold knot. “I know she stole something like $40,000 from a vet clinic where Logan worked and tried to blame him. Why have they released her?”
“I don’t understand all the mumbo-jumbo legal stuff, but it sounds like she’s getting a retrial and has been released on bail.” Marilyn reached over to grab some sheets of paper from the printer, stapled them and handed them to Darcy. “But the kicker is that she says she gave her lawyer new evidence that Logan was responsible in the first place—so he should have been tried, not her.”
Darcy’s stomach twisted even tighter. She closed her eyes in disbelief. “If that’s true, he could be arrested and extradited back to Montana.”
“If it’s true?” Logan’s voice came from behind her, the measured, emotionless tone cutting through her like a scalpel. “You apparently think it’s a possibility?”
She whirled around to face his stony expression. “No—of course not. I meant if she or her lawyer come up with something, the court would have to check it out, and...” She faltered to a stop. “But surely she has falsified something, or flat-out lied. You said she was like that.”
“All I know is that I had nothing to do with it. And whoever discovered this news must be standing on quite a soapbox around here.” He cast a pointed glance at the papers in Darcy’s hand. “Because three of my clients today had already heard about it, and one said he was taking his business elsewhere.”
“That’s so unfair. What are you going to do?”
“I’ve called my lawyer in Montana, and I’m going back. If Cathy has cooked up something plausible enough, there could be a long road ahead. And with the type of friends she probably made in prison, I don’t even want to imagine it.”
“What can I do? Just tell me,” she pleaded.
“Nothing.” He shrugged dismissively and turned away. “Nothing at all.”
* * *
He’d known it was too good to be true—finding this idyllic little town, the kind of practice he’d dreamed of. Finding a woman and her little girl who had both touched his heart from the first time they’d met.
Well, maybe not the first time, he amended, remembering that first stony encounter at the clinic. But after that first meeting, things had warmed quickly, and he’d discovered such hope, such possibility, that maybe he would finally be on track toward the life he’d always wanted.
Then he’d heard that flicker of doubt in Darcy’s voice and he’d pounced on it—seizing the chance to distance himself. No matter how much he cared for her, or how much he hoped she and little Emma could become his family someday, God willing, he knew what was coming, and she didn’t deserve to be any part of it.
He’d already seen it happen.
The friendly greetings turned wary, the whispers of doubt among clients and people he barely knew. After all, some folks figured that shady lawyers could set free the most evil of men, so whether he was vindicated or not, there would be many who still thought another criminal had been freed.
And then the rumors would go on and on, expanding exponentially. Tainting the well that had once held only goodwill. And Darcy would suffer for it all only if she had any connection to him.
His first day here in town had been a case in point.
A client with an appointment in the clinic had overheard a misspoken statement. Offered it up to the local gossip mill.
So when Logan arrived at the café for an early lunch an hour later, the café clientele had turned on him as one, angry at his supposed mistreatment of one of their own.
Small in comparison to the catastrophe back in Montana, but awkward all the same.
He resolutely pushed open the door of the café, wondering if this visit would bring another charred hamburger and spilled beverage to his table. Prepared to ignore any comments and rebuffs, he found his usual front window booth and sat down without looking at the menu.
Marge, the morning waitress, came by with her pad and pencil. “The usual, Doc?”
He nodded, and she scurried off to the kitchen.
One by one, heads turned. Most of them silver or gray and all of them familiar—mostly retired folk who could while away long hours over a shared slice of pie and coffee refills without regard for a time clock back at the job.
At the nearby round table, where a trio of older women usually reigned, all three heads turned. All of them frowned, and he braced himself.
“We wish you all the best, Doc,” Mabel announced. “We read the news online and think it’s abominable. It’s clear enough that they ought to throw that tootsie back in jail.”
The woman with the shortest silver hair nodded. “Just trying to get off the hook herself, I’d say. Some people would lie to their mothers if they thought it would do them any good.”
The oldest woman—Mrs. Peabody—nodded. “We’re all writing letters, you know. If that judge doesn’t realize what a fine man you are, then he’s going to find out. If you need character witnesses, we’ll go to Montana.”
That she would offer such a thing touched his heart. She barely had enough to live on as it was. “That’s really kind of you all,” he said, smiling at each lady in turn. “I appreciate it.”
Wally, the old duffer with purple tennis shoes, came up to Logan’s booth and pounded a fist on the table. “We’ve seen how good you are to Doc Leighton and her little girl, and we’ve seen you around town. You’re good folks. If things go south, we’ll take up a collection. Mark my words.”
Logan hated to think what even a few dollars meant to some of these people. “Thank you, Wally. But I don’t think things will come to that.”
“If they do, we’ll send you news from home. You can have mail in prison, right?”
Mrs. Peabody gasped. “Wally, no one is going anywhere. He’ll get things straightened out, because he’s innocent.”
Beth had told him about the community spirit here when he’d first arrived. How folks banded together to help their own, and stood by their friends.
So how ironic it was, to learn that he’d become a part of that kinship when he might soon have to leave?
* * *
Darcy eyed the mountain of cardboard boxes stacked in her kitchen and sighed.
She’d been excited about this delivery and the chance to help Logan install the new cabinets today. With Emma safely out of the way at Mrs. Spencer’s, they could’ve gotten so much done.
And she’d been so happy about the long weekend ahead, because she and Logan had planned be together every day.
She’d lined up Mrs. Spencer’s niece to babysit several times over the long weekend, so if the stormy weather forecast cleared, she and Logan had planned to rent kayaks to explore the St. Croix, and later on take his horses on a long trail ride.
They were also going to take Emma along for cookouts at the park and take her wading at the beach. Simple things. The kind of family times that she always recorded with lots of iPhone photos so she could create photo books, and Emma could see glimpses of her happy childhood after she’d grown.
But now Darcy had seen Logan angrily blow her comment about his legal situation all out of proportion, and he wasn’t answering his phone or responding to texts. How could he have become so volatile over a single misconstrued comment when everything had been going so well? How could he not be willing to discuss it and work things out?
It didn’t make sense.
And it made her worry.
Had this relationship been heading toward the boundaries that she’d sworn she’d never cross? A deeper commitment that could lead to heartbreak?
Dean had changed over the years. He’d become defensive and petulant, and his anger had grown way out of control the year before he finally walked out on her.
Darcy had done her best to shield Emma from their verbal battles, but on that last night her little girl had awakened and come out into the living room at just the wrong time. Seeing her pale and frightened face had been the final, defining moment.
Whatever Darcy’s beliefs about marriage and forgiveness and trying to make things work, raising Emma in a safe, loving home, with a good example of how men should treat their families, mattered most of all. She would have left with Emma the next morning if Dean hadn’t already gone.
Now she could look back and see that his unconscionable outbursts likely correlated to times when he was totally enamored with some other woman. He’d probably been consumed with frustration and anger over the complexities of being a cheat—while still inconveniently involved in a business with his wife.
Maybe he’d even felt a little guilt, if Darcy wanted to give him that much benefit of the doubt.
But no good and decent father put his selfish desires above the welfare of his daughter and the bounds of marriage. And no man—no matter how appealing—would ever have a place in Darcy’s heart if he had Dean’s dark and angry side.
Ever.
And that brought her back to Logan.
She wandered through the house, adjusting the tilt of Aunt Tina’s artwork on the walls. Running her hand over the furnishings she’d arranged in the living room and bedrooms now that the beautiful old floors glowed with burnished charm.
Despite what Logan thought he’d heard her say, she did trust him to be honorable in all things, because she seen him with clients, Emma and the staff.
Even when he hadn’t realized that others could inadvertently overhear him, his kindness had never wavered. He’d erased more than one bill for an elderly client on welfare and examined a child’s puppy when there was no way the family could pay. And that was just when she’d been around to notice.
There was no way Logan Maxwell would have embezzled that money in Montana. No way at all.
But unprovoked anger...that was another issue entirely. One she would never tolerate. Should she call him on it? Make herself perfectly clear on that score?
Apparently it was a moot point, if they were no longer speaking.
With a sigh, she grabbed her keys and purse to go after Emma, who would be far better company than an irritable Montana cowboy who apparently didn’t know what he was throwing away.
But if she managed to track Logan Maxwell down, she would definitely be letting him know.