“Come on down, girls.” Logan called up the stairs. “We’re ready to leave.”
He and the girls had spent most of the morning packing their clothes, personal items and any groceries they had into the van. He had originally planned to stay another day. To go to church. In some optimistic part of his mind he had hoped he might talk Sandra into coming with them.
He leaned against the stairs’ handrail a moment, surprised at the dull ache created by the thought of her. Sandra, as she had told him from the beginning, had her own agenda, her own plans. That he thought she might change had been his fault, not hers.
He took a deep breath and called once more.
Two glum faces appeared at the railing. Déjà vu, thought Logan. Less than three weeks ago the same scenario had been played out.
He could hardly believe it had been that short a time.
Indeed, he felt as if everything in his life had shifted. As if nothing would be the same anymore.
The girls clumped down the stairs, dejection showing in their every movement. The ache in Logan’s chest solidified into anger with Sandra at the girls’ sorrow. She had let the twins down, as well.
In silence they left the cabin and got in the van. Low clouds dropped a light rain on them as they left. Appropriate weather, thought Logan, as he made the last curve around the end of the lake.
A few cars were ahead of them, driving slowly, held up by a truck pulling a wide load. Logan tapped the steering wheel, anxious to be gone.
“Look, there’s Sandra.”
Logan’s heart jumped in his chest. He peered through the rain to see where Bethany was pointing.
Sure enough, on the side of the road stood Sandra. Hitchhiking.
The story had come full circle indeed.
“Let’s pick her up, okay?” Bethany turned a pleading look to Logan, who wondered at the irony of the predicament.
He bit his lip, considering. Ever since Sandra told him she couldn’t come with them, a feeling that something wasn’t right had nagged at him. She wasn’t being forthright. He made a quick decision. He was going to pick her up. Make her tell him.
“Oh, no. Someone else is going to give her a ride,” Brittany called.
Sure enough, a car two vehicles ahead of them pulled over. Sandra picked up her knapsack, slung a duffel bag over her shoulder and started walking toward the car. At the last moment she glanced up, her hair sticking in dark strings to her face. She froze, staring at them.
Did he see sorrow in her face or was he just being optimistic? He stepped on the brake.
But then she looked away, got in the car and closed the door. The car drove away.
“Why didn’t she come over?” Bethany said, her voice full of pain.
“I guess she has her own plans,” Logan snapped.
He stepped on the gas, swung past the vehicle ahead of them. In seconds he was past the truck carrying a mobile home and in minutes a few miles ahead of the car with Sandra in it.
They would forget her, Logan figured. It would take a little time, but the girls would get over her.
And so would he. So would he.
* * *
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sandra.”
Sandra waved at her fellow cashier as she walked across the parking lot of the grocery store toward her car. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. About coming back here again. She’d only been working at this job for a month, but she was already tired of it. No staying power, she realized. Couldn’t stick with anything. Just like her dad said. Just like Logan had implied.
The thought of Logan made her close her eyes and lean against the car in a moment of weakness. Made her wish that one day she would be able to think of him without experiencing this utter sense of loss. This sense that something wonderful and beautiful had been just out of her reach.
She got into her car and started it. The engine turned over the first time, and she made her way home.
Her apartment was a bachelor suite on the third floor, and by the time she trudged up the stairs and down the hall to the door, she could hear the muffled sound of the phone.
She shoved her key into the lock, the ringing galvanizing her into action. Who would be calling her? she wondered as she finally got the door open. She ran to the phone, jerked it off the hook and sucked in a breath, willing her pounding heart to still.
“Hello,” she said slowly. “Sandra here.”
“Hey, Sandy, it’s Jane.”
Funny that her heart, still beating so hard, should plummet so heavily with disappointment. “Hi, Jane.” She didn’t know why she expected Logan to phone. He didn’t even know her phone number. Didn’t know where she was staying.
“So how’s your cashier job?”
“Tiring, boring, exhausting. But it pays bills.” Sandra tucked the phone under her chin as she bent to unlace her running shoes. “I’m getting real good at making change,” she said dryly as she kicked off her shoes. She sighed lightly as she sank into a nearby chair, glad to be off her feet.
“Have you considered coming to Calgary to work?”
Sandra bit her lip. “I’m not sure.”
“I’ve got a posting listed here for a job you might be interested in.” Jane explained how she pulled it off the bulletin board at the school where she worked as a secretary. “The girl had an accident and won’t be coming back. Bad for her, but it might be good for you. I know you’re more than qualified for this job, girl.”
Sandra hesitated. “I’m not sure, Jane.”
“C’mon. Calgary’s big enough for you and your father.”
Sandra rotated her feet, thinking about going back to a job with no future. A job that paid minimum wage. Too much to die on, not enough to live on. Not on her own.
“I suppose. What’s the job?”
“Teacher’s aide. And if you get in with this school, I’m pretty sure you could get a teaching job. I know of two teachers who will be quitting in the next year or so.”
“Teaching, eh?”
“I know you’re thinking about it, Sandra Bachman. From what you told me about those girls, I get the feeling you enjoyed doing that kind of work.”
Sandra had connected with Jane when Cora moved out. In no time they had caught up, reestablished their old acquaintence. Sandra had told Jane about Brittany and Bethany. But not about Logan. That still hurt too much.
“I did.”
“So why not come down and apply?”
Sandra bit her lip, considering.
“What do you have to lose except a day of work?” Jane insisted.
“I’ve got a day off coming to me, anyway,” Sandra said slowly.
“Think about it. And send in your application, just in case.” Jane gave her the address, and Sandra copied it down on the back of a utility bill she had to pay yet. “The money is good, and you can move in with me. That’ll save you a few dollars, too.”
“I’ll think about it,” Sandra said. “It’ll mean quitting another job, though.”
“Oh, c’mon, Sandra. You have other qualifications. No one would fault you for wanting to use them.”
“Maybe.” Sandra hesitated. She knew she wasn’t using her talents properly. And she also knew that avoiding this job just because she would be using the degree her father paid for was being foolish in the extreme. “But I might not get the job.”
“Trust me, Sandra. I know who’s been applying. They’ll be happy to have you.”
“I’ll send in my résumé. That’s all I’ll promise,” she said slowly. “Take care, and thanks for calling.” Then she hung up the phone.
Supper was quick. She heated leftovers from the day before and ate standing against the counter. She looked out the small window that faced west and another apartment block. Thankfully it was fall and the evenings were cooler. When she first moved in, it was still August, and the apartment was like a stifling oven.
Sandra glanced at her watch and yawned. Too early to go to bed. She wandered into the living room, and with a smile picked up the Bible she had set on the small end table that came with the apartment. She’d been reading it more often lately, finding comfort in the pages that were barely worn. Each time she read it she thought of Logan and his solid faith. Each time she read it she wondered if she would ever see him again.
She unwittingly opened the book to the dedication page. Given to her on the occasion of her high school graduation. From her parents.
Sandra traced her mother’s signature, her father’s. She missed her mother, but in one way Sandra was glad that her mother had been spared knowing what was happening in Sandra’s life. Of course, had her mother still been alive, Sandra wondered if she would have left home.
Still holding the Bible, Sandra dropped onto the couch. She turned to the Psalms. She came to Psalm 103. She read, then stopped at verse twelve. As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.
Would her father have compassion? Sandra wondered. If she were to show up on his doorstep, would he let her in?
She fingered the pages as she remembered his final words of anger. Telling her she was ungrateful, irresponsible. That she no longer had a home with him. That she didn’t need to come back.
So what if she got this job? Would it prove anything to him? Did she even need to?
Sandra felt a sob slip past her lips. A faint cry that echoed like an empty house. In spite of their angry confrontations, she still loved him.
She bent her head. Covered her face. Then, slowly, haltingly, she began to pray. She’d been doing more of that lately, too. Give me wisdom, she prayed. Show me clearly what I should be doing. Show me how I can fix all the things that are wrong in my life. She knew what she was doing—working as a cashier—was just another way of putting off what she had to do. She wondered if the phone call from Jane wasn’t enough of an indication for her.
She prayed a little longer, praying for her father. Praying for Logan and the girls. It brought them nearer for a moment, and eased her loneliness.
* * *
“This is absolutely amazing.” Delores Jonserad put down the drawing, shaking her head. “How did you know?”
Logan frowned, trying not to lean forward in the chair he was perched on. “How did I know what?”
“What we really wanted.” Delores glanced at her husband, who was staring at the second and third renderings of the house. “Isn’t this wonderful, Nathan? Can’t you just feel the space?”
“If you want I can give you a visual walk-through on the computer.” Logan pulled out his laptop, trying to still the shaking in his fingers. Delores and Nathan Jonserad had chosen three final designs, and Logan’s was one of them. He didn’t want to look overeager, nor did he want to look unprofessional. So much was riding on this.
Nathan shrugged, laying the papers on the table. “I don’t think so.”
Logan tried not to let the heaviness of his disappointment show. Having the Jonserads accept his design meant more than just the possibility of more work thrown his way.
He couldn’t explain his deep-seated desire to see the plan he and Sandra had designed come to fruition. It was as if it was the only connection he had with the woman who had walked out of his life two months ago. A woman he hadn’t been able to forget.
“I like it the best, anyhow.” Ignoring his wife’s angry glare, Nathan Jonserad took his pipe out of his pocket and polished it slowly, like an apple, on his shirt. “It doesn’t make our house look like a museum. Or Tara. Or Green Gables. Like the others.” He winked at his wife and put his pipe away. “I think we’ll go with your plan. It has a spark of creativity that I haven’t seen in any of the others.”
Logan wanted to jump up, to cheer, but instead he satisfied himself with a brief clench of his hands and a quick prayer of thanks. “That’s wonderful,” he said, smiling at Nathan and Delores. “Just wonderful.” He wished he could share this with Sandra. Wished she could be here.
He dismissed the errant thought. He had been thinking about her too much because of this project. Each time he saw the design they had created together, he thought of her.
Someday, he would be able to drive along a city street and not have his heart jump each time he saw a woman with a backpack, long brown hair and a jaunty air. Someday he would not wonder how she was doing and where she was.
Someday, but not yet.
* * *
Logan leaned back in his seat, glancing at his watch. He was half an hour early, but he was on his way from a construction site and was done for the day.
He crossed his arms over his chest and opened the window to let some fresh air into the van. It was the end of September, and the weather was still balmy and warm. Fall would come soon enough, he figured, and then winter, bleak and cold.
The thought of spending another winter in the condo with the two girls sent a shiver down his back. He really had to go looking for a house with more room. A place with a front and back door, a yard they could play in on warm days.
A slender figure walking past the van caught his eye. Tall, dark hair.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he laughed at himself. Of course it wasn’t Sandra. Just like the woman he’d seen downtown a week ago wasn’t Sandra. Nor was the woman who delivered their mail.
He was doing well. This morning was the last time he had thought of her until now.
Then the woman glanced toward the school, stopping.
Logan’s heart thudded against his rib cage, and before he could even think, he was out of the vehicle.
“Sandra?”
Her head spun around, her hand pressed against her chest. She turned, her face pale.
“Hey, Logan,” she said slowly.
Logan suppressed a light shiver as his eyes traveled hungrily over her familiar features. There were dozens of questions he wanted answered, but he settled for the common, the inane.
“How’ve you been?”
“Okay. I’ve been okay.” She hugged herself as if chilled. “I’ve got a job here in Calgary.”
“Doing what?” He wanted to know, yet didn’t. Probably some other crazy scheme. Just like his mother.
“I’m a teacher’s aide.” She laughed, a harsh sound. “Surprise, surprise.”
“A teacher’s aide,” he repeated, surprised at the surge of anger her reply gave him. “That’s not much different than being a tutor, is it?”
Sandra looked away, but not before Logan caught the brief flash of pain in her eyes.
He felt immediately contrite. It was really none of his business what she was doing. She had every right to turn down a temporary job in favor of a more permanent one.
“What about your stained glass work?”
Sandra flipped her hair back, avoiding his gaze. “I decided to give that up.”
“I see.” He shouldn’t be surprised. How long had his mother managed to stay with anything? Two months? Three?
Was Sandra any different than his mother, after all? For a time, he had thought she was.
He couldn’t forget their last night together. Working on the Jonserad plan. The energy that flowed between them. The ideas that flew around. The vitality she created. Before she left, he sincerely thought something was building between them. Had he been so badly fooled by her?
“So, have you heard from the Jonserads?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Logan’s eyes snapped to hers. It was as if she had read his mind. “Yes, I have,” he said slowly, still looking into her deep brown eyes. He didn’t want to be mesmerized by them. But he couldn’t look away. Nor did he want to. “They chose our plan.”
As Sandra’s smile spread across her face, his carefully constructed defenses melted as easily as frost beneath a morning sun.
“Really?” she said. “That’s great. When did this happen?”
“About a week ago.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Silence pushed them apart. Logan knew this would be a good time to say goodbye, but he couldn’t help but wonder. “So what brings you to this neighborhood?”
Sandra pulled her jacket closer around herself. “I’m living with my friend Jane. She has an apartment a block from here. I would normally be working now, but we had some problems with the plumbing at school. We got let out early and I…I thought I’d go for a walk.”
He remembered telling Sandra the name of the girls’ school and wondered if her being here was a coincidence. He decided to push things a little.
“You thought you would go for a walk right past Bethany and Brittany’s school.”
She looked away, a flush creeping up her neck. “Yes.”
“Were you hoping to see them?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“I just wanted to see them.” She tossed her hair, hunched her shoulders. “I wasn’t going to talk to them. I just wanted to see them.”
“So you haven’t forgotten about them.”
Sandra’s laugh was a choked sound, and she glanced quickly down. “No. Not at all.”
Something shifted at her admission. “And what about me?”
Sandra still didn’t look up. “Unfair question, Logan Napier.”
He wondered if his growing optimism made him imagine the pain in her voice. “Sandra, why did you go?”
“Doesn’t matter, Logan.”
“That’s convenient, Sandra. I offered you a job. I offered you a chance to come back with us.”
She looked at him then, her eyes pleading. “I couldn’t do it. I know what’s important to you.”
“And what is important to me?”
“Your faith. Your family. Those two wonderful girls.”
Logan nodded. “And what’s important to you, Sandra?”
She waited, chewing her lip. “I don’t know any more.”
She sounded desolate, lost. He didn’t know what to say.
“How are the girls doing in school?” she asked, changing the subject.
“They’re doing quite well.” Logan decided to ease off, surprised that she had already shown him as much as she had. Surprised at his emotional response to her. “The tutor I hired managed to help them get caught up even though they didn’t work as hard for her as they did for you.” That was an understatement. The tutor suffered from constantly being compared unfavorably to Sandra and from a decided lack of imagination and ingenuity. Things Sandra had in abundance. “They rewrote some of the exams and managed a conditional pass. So far they’re doing just fine.” They miss you, he wanted to add. And I do, too. But he was afraid if he mentioned that, she would leave. Run away. The original free spirit who couldn’t commit herself.
So why was she here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girls? Why was she still interested in what they were doing?
He felt inexplicably jealous of his nieces.
“Well, I should go,” she said quietly, darting him a quick glance.
Logan held her eyes, wouldn’t look away.
He felt it again. That peculiar connection, an echo of the energy that flowed between them when they were working on the Jonserad project.
He remembered the times he had held her. Kissed her.
He couldn’t let her go just yet.
“Sandra, we need to talk.”
“What about?” she asked, looking suddenly wary.
Did he dare push her?
Did he dare let her walk away? Did he want to think about her living somewhere nearby and yet unreachable? He had to take a chance.
“Why did you leave?” he asked again. “Why didn’t you come back with me and the girls?”
Sandra looked into his eyes, and he caught a flicker of some unreadable emotion in hers. Sadness? Regret?
“I think I have a right to know, Sandra,” he continued.
“What do you mean?”
He paused, one corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile. He decided he had nothing to lose. If after telling her she turned and walked away, he had only suffered a minor humiliation.
But if she stayed… If he explained…
“I thought I’d be able to forget about you, Sandra. But I can’t. I thought this would slowly disappear, but seeing you right now, I feel as if any ground I’ve gained is completely lost. You’re occupying too much of my head, girl.” His smile faded. “That’s the right I claim.”
She closed her eyes, lowered her head. “Please don’t talk like that, Logan. I don’t deserve any of this.”
Her words connected with other words, with memories of what she had told him of her father.
He couldn’t stop himself from laying his hand on her shoulder, from making a connection to her, however tenuous. “Come and sit in my van,” he said. “Talk to me there.” He didn’t want this discussion to take place out in the open. He preferred the privacy of his vehicle.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Logan walked to the passenger door and opened it for her. Sandra, without looking at him, stepped in.
He watched her as he came around the front of the van, then got in. Logan half turned to face her, one arm resting on the steering wheel. He looked at her, wondering where to start.
Sandra shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and sighed lightly. “You wanted to know why I left.” Sandra leaned back in the seat, staring straight ahead.
“Yes, if you want to tell me,” he encouraged gently.
“I left because I know you and the girls deserve better than me.”
Logan’s first reaction was to negate, to deny what she said. But hadn’t he at times felt the same? Yet even as all his previous judgments of her came back to him, one thing was sure. She was Sandra, and he loved her in spite of—and, if he were to be honest, because of—who she was.
“Sandra, look at me.”
She slowly turned her head, her dark eyes wary.
He wished he could be as glib as she could be. Wished he had the right words. “Whatever made you think I deserve better than you?”
She looked away again. “My life and how pointless it really was.” She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “My father was right, and so were you.”
“I don’t know if I like being spoken of in the same breath as your father.”
“I’m sorry,” Sandra said. “You’re not really like him, but in other ways you both saw who I really was.” She sighed, turning her head to him again. “I was just a coward. Just like you said, my whole life after I left home was concentrated around no. I didn’t know what I wanted, only what I didn’t want.”
“You wanted to do stained glass work, didn’t you?”
Sandra shrugged. “I’m not sure. I picked it up on Vancouver Island as something to do. That old work ethic pounded into me by my dad. It paid a few bills here and there.” She laughed shortly. “I was lucky I had friends. I thought my big break was that order from the restaurant in Calgary.” She took a deep breath. “I never told you how flat broke I was when I first met you. I worked for you only because I needed the money so badly to pay for my glass supplies so I could do the job.”
“Did you finish that job?”
“The company that owned the restaurant was taken over, and the new owners canceled the order.” She glanced his way again, her mouth curved in a wry smile. “I found out the day you offered that job to me. Losing that order seemed to underline the total futility of my life. I couldn’t seem to do anything on my own.” She laughed again. “Even this job I got thanks to my friend Jane.”
“Do you like the work?”
Sandra smiled then. A smile of warmth and humor. A glimpse of the Sandra he had fallen in love with. “Yes, I do.” She looked at him, her eyes holding his. “I also realized I learned something important while I was working for you.”
Logan leaned against the door, surprised at her revelations. Sandra was a proud person. To lose what she saw as her independence was certainly a blow for her. “And what was that?”
“That I’d been selfish. That the freedom I worshiped was really a way of avoiding responsibility. The responsibility I owed my father for paying for my education.” She shrugged. “When I found out I lost the job, I realized what an illusion my independence had been.”
“If you needed work, why didn’t you come with me and the girls?”
Sandra fiddled with the zipper pull on her coat. “Because I was ashamed,” she said finally. “Because I felt unworthy of you. Of the girls. My whole life, everything I’d spent all those years developing was proven to be just a sham. A joke. Someone playing at being an adult. Someone who took very good care of herself.” She blinked, and a bead of silver glimmered in one corner of her eye. She reached up and wiped it away.
Logan wanted to pull her into his arms. To comfort her. But he sensed she had more to say. He wanted to hear it all. To sweep away any misconceptions that had been created.
“I knew of your faith and how sincere it was,” Sandra continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m still not sure of my own.”
“But it matters, doesn’t it?”
Sandra frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know God. Yet I sense you hold back, though you were raised in a Christian home.” This was the true barrier to any relationship they might develop.
“Oh, yes. Mandatory church attendance and expectations and all the rest. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough for Dad. Probably not good enough for God.” She stopped, giving Logan a wry glance. “Sorry. That sounded whiny. I made my choices. I have to learn to live with the consequences. But lately God and I have been talking more.”
Logan couldn’t stop himself. He took her hands in his, needing a physical connection with her.
He wanted to tell her so much. All the things he had learned. All the truths he had assimilated and made part of his life. Please, Lord, give me the right words. Let what I say be from You, not my own puny explanations.
He could see the struggle on her face. And he prayed that she would see the things that God had shown him.
Redemption. The life-changing power of God. The love of a celestial Father Who loved unconditionally.