for her to start down the stairs. “I have to get back to the office.”
She looked over her shoulder. “You’re not staying for lunch?”
It was just a polite question. He didn’t hear interest in her voice. Thank goodness. “No. Duty calls.”
At the bottom of the steps, she waited for him. “Thanks for your help with Carmen and Manuel.”
“No thanks necessary.” She was standing close enough to touch, close enough that he could see golden lights in her eyes, close enough that he had to leave now. He stepped away from Meg toward the door. Then he left, unsettled, without saying goodbye. Because if he did, he might decide to stay for lunch, and he wasn’t looking for another complication in his life.
Chapter 2
After supper that evening, Meg weeded the flower garden by the front porch. As Lily peered over her shoulder, the older woman said, “I want to plant yellow and orange tulips this year and put pink ones out back.”
“They’ll look pretty in the spring with the daffodils,” Meg responded, her mind on Logan MacDonald, not the flower garden.
Ned pushed himself back and forth on the porch swing, his head covered by a straw hat. “I should go see if Manuel is still tinkering with his truck. Maybe I can learn something.”
“Carmen and the baby are napping,” Lily replied. “I checked them before I came out.”
Meg had looked in on them, too. She’d stood for a long time watching mother and baby, an unfamiliar longing deep inside her.
Suddenly a yellow-striped kitten scampered out from behind a yew and brushed against Meg’s leg. She smiled at Leo, a stray she’d found and befriended soon after she’d returned to Willow Valley.
Ned stood and came to the edge of the porch. “A reporter called from the Willow Valley Courier. He wanted to do an interview with Manuel and Carmen, but they didn’t want to talk to him. They’re very private. I told him to call Logan for the details.”
Meg glanced at her uncle. “I’m hoping we can convince Manuel to stay for a week or so.”
“It’s a shame Logan couldn’t stay for lunch.” Lily cast a quick look at her husband.
“He’s a fine man,” Ned remarked as if on cue.
“Fine” wasn’t quite the way Meg would characterize Logan. Strong. Decisive. Intuitive. “Who’s Travis? I heard Doc ask Logan if he’d heard anything about him.”
Lily tidied a few strands of hair that always came loose from the chignon at her nape. “Travis is Logan’s son. Logan moved his family here about five years ago. From what he’s said and I’ve heard, Travis never liked Willow Valley. Coming from Philadelphia, I guess that was natural. Logan wanted to give him somewhere wholesome to grow up. But Travis wanted none of it.”
“So he ran away?”
Lily exchanged a look with her husband. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
Ned added what he knew. “About a year after they moved, Logan’s wife was in an accident and died. It was tough on the boy. Afterward Travis gave Logan quite a few headaches—coming home late, drinking, grades slipping. Logan was at his wit’s end and tried to get the boy help. But Travis wouldn’t go to the appointments with the counselor. One day about four months ago, he just up and ran off. He’s only sixteen, and Logan’s worried sick.”
“The police are still looking,” Lily explained, “and for the first two months, Logan searched for the boy himself as far as Richmond.”
Meg sat back on her heels, forgetting about the weeds. “Doc mentioned a private investigator.”
Ned grunted. “Logan’s trying everything he can to find Travis.”
Her heart aching, Meg said, “Logan must be in unbearable pain. Not knowing where his son is, imagining the worst. How does he go on?”
“He’s a strong man,” Ned answered.
“A good man,” Lily added.
Ned pushed his hat back on his head. “Rumor has it Logan’s marriage was rocky before Shelley died. But Logan never talks about it.”
Meg couldn’t forget the look in Logan’s green eyes when Doc had asked for news of Travis.
“Are you going to see Logan again?” Her aunt’s tone was filled with eager interest.
“What?” Meg asked dropping her gardening trowel.
“Honey, I can read you like a book. You don’t ask idle questions.”
“Aunt Lily…”
Her aunt laughed. “It would be good for you to get out, go to dinner, date a man.”
“You know dating is the furthest thing from my mind.”
Lily’s smile faded. “I’m worried about you, child. You’re not the same person you were before that terrible man shot you.”
Most of the time Meg tried not to think about it. She just wanted to get over it. The problem wasn’t the shooting. It was the terror, the panic and the trapped feeling that still gripped her sometimes. But she hadn’t had a nightmare in over a week. That was progress. “I’m fine, Aunt Lily. You and Uncle Ned and Willow Valley are all I need.”
“For now,” her aunt pronounced.
Petting Leo, who’d curled in a ball by her knee, Meg decided she wasn’t going to ask what her aunt meant. She didn’t want to know.
The following morning, Logan drove to the Carlsons’ farm. He was curious to see how Manuel and Carmen were faring. He wished he could do something for the young couple, but he knew Manuel wouldn’t accept charity.
He was halfway down the lane when he saw Manuel packing the back of his truck. As he drove closer, he saw Meg standing by the open passenger door. She was gesturing to Manuel and speaking fast while Lily and Ned looked on. Logan could guess what was happening.
He parked on the gravel patch beside the blue compact. Climbing out of his car, he heard Meg speaking to Carmen. All he caught were the words quédese, “stay,” and unos pocos días, “a few days.” Carmen spoke quickly and gestured to her husband. As Logan approached, he could see the tears in the young woman’s eyes.
Stopping beside Meg, he denied the sudden surge of adrenaline rushing through him. “They’re leaving,” he said, summing up the situation.
“Yes, and they shouldn’t. I’ve talked to Manuel till I’m blue. But he won’t listen.”
“Has Carmen tried?”
“She says he’s the head of the family—he makes the final decision. But, Logan, just look at her! She needs rest and care…at least for a few days. Doc wants to make sure Tomás—that’s what they named him—is nursing adequately. But Manuel insists he can’t take advantage of our hospitality.”
