that excuses it?”
“No.” Pop’s tone turned sharp. “It was one thing to walk out on me. But my boys—” He swallowed hard and looked away. “I wasn’t proud of myself back then. No matter how much I hated your mother for leaving y’all, I still loved that woman in equal measure. Probably always will. And that’s how it is. You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with. It just happens. If it works out, you end up living with ’em. If it doesn’t,” he said, and shrugged slowly, “you find a way to live without ’em. It took me a long time to learn that.”
Logan dropped his head, focusing on the shadows cast by the bonfire.
“Guess that’s why I’ve never blamed Amy for going after you like she did,” Pop said. “I knew what it felt like to want someone that much. That girl’s always had a strong spirit and loved you the second she laid eyes on you. As hard as it may be to understand, she was just fighting to keep you.”
Pop’s hand curled around his forearm. Logan tensed, lifting his eyes to face him.
“I wish you’d open up for once. Tell me what you’re thinking. Feeling. You’re closed so tight—” He kicked the ground with a boot. “But that’s my fault. I put too much on you when your mama took off. Left you to tend to your brother. I had so much trouble holding myself together I didn’t realize how much you boys needed me.”
“We turned out fine, Pop.”
“Fine’s not good enough. Not for me or my boys. You’ve always been careful and independent. Even as a kid. But sometimes living safe keeps you from the best things in life.” Pop watched Amy disappear into the darkness, then peered back at him. “Amy used to enjoy life. Showed you how to at one time. She could be the best thing that ever happened to you.” His grip tightened on Logan’s arm. “But if you want a real shot at saving your marriage, you’ve got to open up.”
“I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not.” He shook his head. “You’re pushing Amy away like you do the rest of us because you’re afraid of things going bad.” He hesitated. “You’ve gotten worse since y’all lost the baby.”
The baby. Logan’s muscles tensed. A mistake. “Her name was Sara.”
“I’m sorry,” Pop murmured, touching his arm. “You haven’t been the same since you lost Sara. And it’s time for you to...”
“What?”
Pop sighed. “Move on. You’ve spent so much time worrying about Amy, it’s time you worked on yourself. Time for you to let go of what happened. Time to forget—”
“Forget Sara?” Logan’s throat closed, tightening to the point of pain.
Pop winced. “No. I didn’t mean that.”
“That’s exactly what you meant.” Logan’s gut roiled. “And that should be easy, right? Because I’m a man? Because I didn’t know her? That’s the same thing everyone else said after we lost her.”
“Logan—”
“I knew my daughter.” His voice turned hoarse, tearing from his throat in rough rasps. “Sara knew me, too. I put my hand on Amy’s belly every day and Sara kicked every time I spoke to her.” His breath shuddered from him. “That’s how I knew something wasn’t right. I put my hand over her that morning and talked to her and she didn’t move.” He shook his head. “Amy didn’t think anything was wrong. Not until later. But I knew that morning.”
Logan stared ahead, the flames of the bonfire licking higher and the smoke growing thicker.
“We’d lost her that night while we were sleeping.” His lungs seized, choking him. “Sara died right there in that bed beside me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.”
“No one expected you to, son. Nature has a way—”
“Of taking care of things. I know.” Logan grimaced, eyes blurring. “That’s why I can’t understand it. When we saw her, she was beautiful. So perfect. She just didn’t cry.” He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets. “I kept holding her, thinking they’d got it wrong. That she’d wake up. She would’ve been due in two more weeks. I can’t understand how she could be that perfect and not cry. How she could almost make it...”
Pop kneaded the back of Logan’s neck, his words low against his ear. “It’s okay to mourn for Sara. To miss her. But it wasn’t your fault or Amy’s. You have to accept this was something you couldn’t control and choose to move on. For your sake and hers.”
“Every choice I’ve ever made has been for Amy’s sake.” Logan pulled away. “It’s called loyalty. Something a lot stronger than this illusion of love everyone keeps holding on to. It’s something Mom knew nothing about. Even Amy didn’t have a clue what it was, lying to me the way she did. And I have no intention of trading it off for this reckless fantasy all of you keep trying to sell. The only thing that’s ever been certain in my life has been my word. Everything else—everyone else—has been a damned disappointment.” He motioned to the hands across the field and called out, “Let’s get this fire out. It’s time to call it a night.”
They nodded, tossing their beers in the trash and rounding up buckets of water.
“Logan, you can’t build a future when your hands are holding on to the past.”
“The only thing I’m holding on to is my wife. I made a vow and I’m standing by it because it’s the right thing to do.” His lip curled. “The only dignified thing to do. Surely you can understand that.” He shook his head. “Amy and I may have been dumb kids back then but we’re not now. I’m not going into this blind, and Amy knows exactly where I stand.” His mouth ran dry and he forced his words past the lump in his throat. “I knew my daughter. Sara was not a mistake. And neither was my marriage.”
Logan spun on his heel and joined the hands, grabbing a bucket of water and heaving it over the pit. The hiss and sizzle of dying fire sounded and smoke billowed out with fury. He grabbed another and repeated the motion, muscles screaming with every throw.
Things would be different this time. He wouldn’t fail Amy. And thank God they’d never have the chance to fail a child again.
“MMMM.” AMY CLOSED her eyes in bliss and wrapped her hands tighter around the warm mug. “Mama, you make the best hot chocolate in existence.”
Betty smiled. “It’s all about balance, baby girl. You have to make sure the bitter matches the sweet. Besides, you can’t break in Christmas properly without a decent hot cocoa.”
Amy took another sip and rolled it over her tongue, savoring the peaceful stillness of the empty kitchen. She and Traci had helped Cissy get the boys bathed and tucked in bed. Traci and Cissy had called it a night but Amy had lingered, reading three bedtime stories before the boys’ eyelids finally fluttered shut.
Amy smiled. She could’ve stayed in the boys’ room for hours, reading in gentle tones and listening to their soft breaths. It hadn’t taken long for their rambunctious sweetness to slip into her heart. She’d grown so close to them it’d be painful to
