19
Brother, I love you, you know I do.” Kate handed Logan a red plastic cup filled with ice and cherry Coke. “But this is a weird party setup. Newspaper on the tables? A disco ball?”
Logan sat atop a picnic table, feet on its bench and guitar in his lap, and looked to the band shell where Colton was hanging the silver ball, his laughter punctuated by the thump of the A/V system as someone plugged in a cord.
“Amelia would call it a glitter ball.” He took a sip of pop, his swallow turning into a grin as he looked around Maple Valley’s town square. So many people already milling around. Twinkle lights circling lampposts. An indigo sunset accompanied by rolling clouds.
The risk of rain couldn’t come close to dampening Logan’s spirits tonight. He had no idea what Amelia’s reaction might be to all this. But anticipation glided in every breath.
And somehow, a knowing.
He went back to loosening the tuning keys of his guitar until he was able to unwind each string from its peg.
“You really going to play that tonight?”
“You realize every unmarried girl in Maple Valley save me and Raegan is going to swoon?”
He used the string winder to remove the bridge pins. “Yeah, I’m really only concerned about one girl.”
He didn’t even have to look up to know Kate was probably beside herself at that remark. She and Raegan both had been the definition of giddy since he and Charlie had showed up yesterday. He’d immediately warned his sisters to keep their presence on the down-low.
“I want it to be a surprise.”
A gravelly voice belted over the speakers—some nineties band Amelia loved—as Raegan moved toward them. Charlie came bounding over then, Colton not far behind. His daughter had been such a trooper these past few days of packing and driving the rental car back to Iowa. He’d tried to explain, but she didn’t even seem to care. She’d heard Amelia’s name and started bouncing off the walls.
This is the right thing, isn’t it? He wasn’t letting impulse and desire cloud his common sense?
“I am so proud of myself.” Kate held out her hand so he’d drop in the pins. “Just think, if I hadn’t called you to let you know that Raegan let me know that Amelia was heading off to Chicago, you might not be here right now.”
He pulled the low-E string from the paper envelope and unwound it. “Yes, clearly, I owe my entire future to you. But let’s not forget, you wouldn’t have met Colton if not for me.”
“Touché, my brother. We’re even.”
He inserted the metal nub of the guitar string into the hole in the bridge, pushed the pin through to lock it in place, and then strung the other end through the tuning peg. Five more to go.
Colton held up his ink-stained hands as he reached them. “Tables are covered, and here’s the proof.”
They’d borrowed tables from the church, and instead of tablecloths, Logan had insisted on covering them with back issues of the News. He finished stringing the guitar and played a chord, the bronze metal harsh under his uncalloused, unpracticed fingers . . . and yet, familiar. He looked up to see Kate sporting a grin.
One he couldn’t help matching.
Oh yeah, this is right.
Kate’s gaze shifted over his shoulder then, and she bit her lip. “Hmm. Did you invite them?”
He followed her line of sight to see Rick and Helen getting out of their car at the curb.
“Yeah, I invited them.” Reluctance lodged in his throat. “I’ve been dreading this.” But he had to do it. “Watch my guitar?”
With Kate’s “good luck” following him, he moved across the lawn, a firefly whirling past his ear and the mouth-watering smells of Seth’s industrial-sized barbeque wafting over him.
Rick nodded as he approached, one arm around Helen. Logan had grabbed his sweating plastic cup, rehearsing the words clinking around in his brain like the ice cubes clinking inside his cup.
Steady. Firm. Kind.
“Rick, Helen, glad you could come.”
The bruise around Rick’s eye had completely faded in the weeks since Logan had seen him. Helen managed a taut smile despite the strain tightening the summer air between them. “We like Friday nights in the park as much as anybody.”
Logan rubbed his free hand over his jeans. “Uh, Charlie’s right over there, but before you join the party, I’d like to say something. I’m not sure you’re going to like it, but it needs to be said.”
His father-in-law’s face was a steely mask—unreadable.
“I love both of you. Charlie and I are lucky to have you in our lives. Your support in these past two years has been amazing.”
Rick’s arm dropped from around his wife. “But?”
“But I won’t be leaving Charlie in your care. Not long-term. Not now or ever. And if you choose to move forward with any kind of legal custody challenge, I will fight it as hard as I can.”
“Logan—” Helen began, but he lifted a hand.
“I know I’m not the perfect father. But I’m doing my best and, at least lately, praying, too. I was wrong to think for so long I was on my own and capable of keeping everything together by myself.” He set his cup on a nearby table, ignoring the unbending glint in Rick’s eyes. “I hope you always play a large role in her life. But asking me to leave her behind is wrong. You know Emma wouldn’t have been okay with this, any of it.”
“He’s right.” Helen’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s right, Rick. It’d break her heart.”
Logan waited, willed himself to hold Rick’s stare. Steady. Firm. Kind.
And then he saw it, the flicker of grief in his father-in-law’s eyes. The barest of cracks. It was exactly what Dad had said. Rick was just trying to hold on to Emma any way he could.
Rick only nodded, then reached for his wife’s hand. Relief as thick as the clouds bounding overhead tumbled through Logan as they moved on to greet Charlie. He caught Kate’s gaze from across the grass. Gave a single nod.
Dad’s voice sounded from behind him. “Quite the party you’ve pulled together.”
He turned. “Well, Maple Valley does love a good party.”
“Would it be way too sappy if I told you I was proud of you?”
“No sappier than Kate telling me she’s going to write this into her next novel or screenplay.” He paused. “Hey, Dad?”
His father glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For wrangling the entire town into keeping this a secret?”
He shook his head. “I mean, yeah, thanks for that. But also, thanks for what you had with Mom. A huge part of the reason Emma and I had a good marriage for as long as we did is because of what I learned from you.”
And maybe, someday, probably—he might have another good marriage. It’d look different from the first time around, that was for sure. Emma had helped him focus. Grounded him. She’d given him just what he needed as a young adult ready to run into the world, but not sure where to start.
Amelia? She did the opposite of ground him. She opened up his world, filled it with possibilities and promises he hadn’t even begun to unpack. But he couldn’t wait to.
“That’s all. Just wanted to say thanks. How’s that for sappy?”
“Pretty darn good, I’d say.” Dad’s blink wasn’t quick enough to hide his emotion.
Logan crossed his arms and looked around the square once more. The music, the people, the quirky decorations. His family and friends. Colton holding Charlie, and his guitar sitting on the picnic table. The honey-sweet hint of the expectation in the air.
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
Dad laughed. “Completely. And I love it.” He turned to face Logan. “Where’s the guest of honor, anyway?”
“She’ll be here.” The grin started on his face and reached for his heart. “Soon.”
Pale violet light trickled in rivulets through gathering clouds and wispy willow branches that swayed in the breeze as if waving goodbye. The evening air tingled with something like anticipation, windy whispers promising rain. Maybe soon.
Raegan hoisted Amelia’s suitcase into her trunk while Amelia stood with her hands in the pockets of her shorts, gaze hooked on the barn, a chorus of memories chirping through her. That first night here. The Klassens telling her they’d just known she was coming. Birthday dinners and movie nights and quiet evenings alone.
That sunset with Logan. The loft doors open.
Maybe not a house, but it was definitely a home.
Rae’s sandals crunched over sand and gravel, and she slid her arm around Amelia. “You’re not saying goodbye to the barn, are you? Because you promised this isn’t goodbye yet. You don’t leave ’til tomorrow.”
“Not goodbye. Not yet, I promise.”
Yet. Hope and fear and curiosity and a whole host of swirling emotions nested in the word. She may only be driving out to Chicago for a couple weeks. Long enough to meet the staff of the website and check out living spaces. Get a feel for the city and see if she could picture herself there.
Pray and decide if this was the something new she was meant for.
But something told her—and probably Raegan sensed it, too—soon she’d be packing more than a suitcase. She was pretty sure Lenny and Sunny had already started praying for whatever hungry soul might come along next, looking for a fresh start, a new landing place.
“Come on, let’s go.” Rae tugged on her arm.
“Can’t I change out of these dingy overalls first?” She’d spent the afternoon helping Megan, the coffee shop owner and new mom, get moved into a new duplex—one with room for a nursery. Weird that Kate had only stopped by for a few minutes. Raegan, too. In fact, Rae hadn’t even shown up until the end of the afternoon, and she’d insisted on coming back to Amelia’s place with her.
“You look fine,” she said now.
Amelia glanced down. “I look like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” She even had the twin braids to complete the look. But the people of Maple Valley had seen her looking worse—like last summer when she’d been a muddy mess sandbagging before the flood. Or after the tornado when she’d worked alongside everyone else to clean up the park.
The drive into town was quiet, memories replacing conversation. Man, she was going to miss this town.
“I need to find some way to thank Kate for letting me stay in her townhouse while I’m in Chicago. Lucky for me she hasn’t sold it yet. I—” She broke off as she turned onto Main Avenue and the town square came into view. The beat of music pumping through speakers floated in, and parked cars crowded both sides of the street. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Raegan’s voice lilted.
“It’s not Fourth of July. Summer Fest isn’t until August.” And why in the world was there a glitter ball hanging from the band shell?
She found an open parking spot along the curb and pulled over, confusion crackling through her as she got out of the car. Clouds hunched overhead. All those people in the square better have umbrellas.
“Amelia!”
She froze at the sound of a voice—his voice. Logan.
Logan?
She turned, and there he was, at edge of the park, standing there like he’d been waiting for her.
“Well?” Raegan whispered from behind her. “What are you waiting for?”
“You totally knew, and you didn’t say a word.”
He was walking toward her now.
“He’s my big brother, Amelia. If there’s one thing Walkers don’t do, it’s squeal on each other’s secrets. Go talk to him.”
She took a breath and forced her feet to move. Swiped at a strand of hair that’d pulled loose from one of her braids. Oh man, the braids. The overalls. Why hadn’t she forced Raegan to wait while she changed?
And of course Logan looked like . . . Logan. All the more attractive for the wind-tousled hair and shadowed jaw. No tie tonight—only dark jeans, an untucked white button-down, and a dark jacket.
She stopped in front of him. “W-what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in LA? Or . . . somewhere? Do you know what’s going on in the park?” A drop of rain landed on her cheek, and she stopped, taking a breath and grasping for the composure she must’ve packed away with her suitcase in the trunk.
And Logan just stood there. Smiling.
Another raindrop, this one tapping against her arm. Distant music floated in on a tumbling breeze. “If you don’t say something soon, Logan Walker—”
He held up his hands and stepped closer. “Just wanted to see if you could make it to twenty questions.”
“You’re rude.”
“And you’re . . .” He broke off, as if catching his breath for the last word. “Beautiful.”
“I’m sweaty from helping Megan move all day. I’m wearing overalls that are leftover from the first time they were fashionable. I’m . . .” Out of words. Because the way he was looking at her right now? It stole her breath and filled her lungs at the same time. It puddled inside her, warmer than any summer sun and sweeter than any cool rain.
“What’s going on in the park, Logan?”
“Looks to me like a going-away party.” He looked over his shoulder to where umbrellas were beginning to pop open.
And realization, it rambled in slow. A going-away party. And she was the person going away. “But I’m not even sure I’m moving. Not yet. This is just a . . . a short trip. An interview.”
“Then call it a good-luck party instead.”
Ribbons of emotion tangled inside her. “You did this?” Her question was a whisper.
He nodded, hands in his pockets and the first hint of nerves scampering over his face. “The thing is . . .” He cleared his throat and tried again. “The thing is, Charlie and I . . . we’re coming with you.”
“What?” The word leapt from her lips.
“We’re coming with you.”
Raindrops turned into rainfall, hushed patters tapping against grass and branches, bouncing off her car. Logan reached around to pull off his jacket. He closed the gap between them and held the jacket with both arms over their heads like an umbrella.
She tipped her head. “Stop joking, Logan.”
“I’m not joking. You should’ve seen Charlie this morning with her little red suitcase. Adorable. I was thinking we’d take my car. I left it here when I flew back to LA last time, since I wasn’t sure where Charlie and I were going to end up. It’s got a lot less miles than yours—”
“Logan. Stop. Slow down. I’m processing here. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying . . .” His jacket flapped in the wind above them as he met her eyes. “I’m coming with you. Because I love you.”
“I . . . you . . . what?”
“I love you, and Charlie loves you, and we’d like to come with you to Chicago. If you’ll have us.”
He loved her. “But the campaign and D.C. and your office—”
“There’ll be other campaigns. And we closed the office.”
He loved her. “You don’t have a job or a plan?”
“This is the plan.”
“Y-you love me?”
The answer was in his eyes, rich and warm and melting. And that did it. She launched herself at him, arms flinging around him and face burying against his shoulder. “I love you, too. I love you.”
He lowered the jacket that’d shielded her from the rain, wrapping her in his arms. Raindrops slicked over her hair and down her cheeks, mixing with salty tears and the sound of cheers from the park.
“So we can come with you, then?” His voice brushed over her ear. “Because it doesn’t matter whether you end up staying in Chicago or decide to come back here or go off to Paris to see for yourself where Lindbergh landed. We want to come with you.”
She could linger here forever. At the park, in the rain, on the edge of so many dreams-come-true at once. She nodded into his neck, not even capable of talking right now.
“Good, ’cause in true Boy Scout fashion, I’ve already filled the gas tank and checked the oil and filled bags of snacks for Charlie. I made her a travel kit with coloring books and—”
“Logan.” She lifted her arms to loop them around his neck and kissed him.
“—and I’ve already got the GPS programmed. Though it’s basically a straight shot, and I always bring an atlas just in case—”
Another kiss.
“Okay, okay.” He laughed the words against her lips. His arms tightened, and he took over the kiss.
Until the patter of footsteps interrupted. “Lia!”
Charlie. Logan swooped his daughter into his arms before Amelia could blink. Made room in the embrace for three.
See, I am doing a new thing.
A new season. A new family. A new hope. Amelia buried herself against Logan, Charlie’s arm around her neck.
Filled with a joy like never before.
The End . . . except not quite.