by Loree Lough
Oh…now she got it.
“Jason could sometimes be a self-centered jerk,” she admitted. “What man isn’t?”
He cocked one eyebrow.
“He wasn’t the best husband in the world, but he never laid a hand on me…never even tried. He wasn’t the best father, either, but he never, ever touched Drew.”
Logan sat back and, hands up like the victim of a holdup, said, “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Yes, yes you were.”
Logan lowered his hands. “It won’t happen again. You’ve got my word on it.”
“So when was your mother diagnosed?”
“A little more than a year ago.”
“And Sandra has been taking care of her all this time?”
“Pretty much.”
“It can’t be easy, tending to the needs of a dying parent.”
“Whoa.” His dark eyes widened. “You don’t mean to say…you took care of your dad and your husband?”
“No. My dad was a test pilot.” He already knew far too much about her. She wouldn’t add those details of the crash and the long, agonizing battle he fought to come back afterward…a battle he didn’t win.
“How much help does your sister get with taking care of your mom?”
“Susan, our oldest sister, lives out of state. I pitch in now and then, and Dad…” He shrugged. “Dad does what he can.”
“I know how difficult it can be,” she said, “to find ways to do your share when there are so many other demands on your time.”
He held her gaze for a moment. “You managed.”
“A person doesn’t reach your level of success without knowing how to set priorities.”
“In other words,” he said, “I don’t do more because I choose not to.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but…”
“Mind if I give you a little friendly advice?”
As he’d pointed out, dressed in baby-blue lamb pajamas, she was hardly in a position to object.
“You’re a great daughter, a super mom.” He patted his stomach. “And feed hungry strangers. So how ’bout taking care of Bianca for a change?”
Logan opened the door and pointed at the folder still sitting on the table. “Remember, if you need any help getting an appointment with those folks, call me.” He stepped onto the porch, then leaned back in. “Need to get home and let the dog out.” He aimed a thumb at the secondary bolt at the top of the door. “Don’t forget to lock up, okay?” He shrugged. “Because, well, y’know….”
Yeah, she knew. “If Drew sneaks out because I forget, it’s on me, not you.”
Logan shook his head. “Like I said, you’re too nice. If I had the sense God gave a flea, I wouldn’t have come over so late, and you wouldn’t have unlocked an already locked door. So if Drew sneaks out, it is on me.”
She could admit that he’d made a good point or restate the obvious: Drew was her responsibility, 24/7, even if their normal schedule was slightly altered by an unexpected visit.
“Close the door,” she said, dragging a kitchen chair behind her, “and I’ll lock up right now.”
Voice muffled by the closed doors, Logan said, “Sweet dreams, Bianca.”
For a moment there, it looked as if he wanted to add something. But she must have been mistaken because he stepped out of the golden glow of the porch light and was swallowed up by the darkness.
“Sweet dreams to you, too,” she whispered.
And she meant it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOGAN LIFTED HIS mom from her bed and gently deposited her in the big recliner near the window. “Feet up or down?”
“Up. And close the blinds.”
It wasn’t even nine in the morning, and already Sandra looked done in. Logan filled both of his mom’s requests, then proceeded to help his sister change the bed linens.
“If you really want to help,” she whispered, tugging sheets from the mattress, “you could fix her a cup of chicken broth.”
Logan was only too happy for the excuse to leave the room. While puttering in the kitchen, he wondered if she’d made the request to spare herself the back-and-forth trip or because she’d seen his reaction to their mother’s unappreciative behavior. The latter, if he knew Sandra.
He chose a lightweight cup and dumped a spoonful of chicken bouillon into it, dropped a teabag into a matching mug and added hot water to both. On the way back upstairs, he grabbed a handful of saltines from the pantry and put them on the tray, whistling The Pink Panther theme as he climbed the steps.
Sandra met him on the landing. “Shh!” she hissed. “Mom’s asleep, and I need the rest more than she does!”
Despite the gleam in her eyes, something told him she wasn’t kidding. He held up the tray. “But…I made the broth. And tea. Where should I put it?”
Clutching the rumpled sheets to her chest, she grinned and continued downstairs. “Careful, little brother, or I might just tell you.”
Logan followed her to the laundry room. “So have you had a chance to think about the job offer?” Once she’d stuffed sheets into the washer, he followed her to the kitchen. “I talked with my friend, and she’s on board.”
He slid the tray onto the counter and started a pot of coffee. It had finished perking when she faced him, red-eyed and sniffling.
Sandra blew her nose. “I just wish I could do something to make her happy in her last days!” Nodding at the tray, she slumped onto a counter stool. “The tea’s too hot, or the broth isn’t salty enough. Her room is stuffy. Or cold. Too much light coming in, or not enough. One minute she’s lonely. The next, she wants privacy.” Groaning, she held her head in her hands. “I swear, Logan, I’m out of ideas and nearly out of patience, too.”
It showed. Sandra looked as defeated as she sounded. Logan opened his cell phone and pecked in a number.
“Who are you calling?”
He held up a forefinger. “The cavalry.”
She sipped her coffee as Griff picked up.
“This better be good, Murray. I was just about to seal a sweet deal with a cute little blonde and—”
“At nine in the morning? Good grief, man. Pace yourself. You’re not in college anymore.”
“Real funny, but I repeat—this better be good….”
“Okay, Mr. Cut-to-the-blonde. I need you to reschedule my meetings.”
“Which meetings?”
“All of them. New York. DC. Everything we scheduled for next week. See if you can move things to week after next. Get back to me when—”
“Uh, you’d better check your phone’s contacts list, pal. I think you called me by mistake when you meant to dial your secretary.”
“I don’t have a secretary.”
“I’ve nagged you about that for years. Because scheduling meetings, making phone calls and rearranging schedules is what secretaries do, not attorneys.”
Logan met Sandra’s eyes, reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“Look. Griff. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I just figured because you set up the meetings, you could rearrange them faster than I could. This isn’t a good excuse, but it’s all I’ve got—I’m going to spend the week here with Mom. Give Sandra a much-needed break.”
His sister slapped a palm onto the tabletop. “Logan! Don’t be ridiculous. I’m having a bad day, that’s all. I’ll pull myself together in a few minutes. I always do.”
He gave her the universal “shh” sign as Griff growled something unintelligible into the phone.
“I’m gonna hold you to that hiring-a-secretary thing,” the lawyer said, “right after I take care of the rearranging. Soon as I have new dates, I’ll get back to you. And I have a good mind to charge you the going rate.” Another pause, and then, “Speaking of getting back…”
Logan heard a click, and looked at his phone. “Well, how do you like that?” he said, dropping it into his pocket. “The dude hung up on me!”
Sandra picked up her mug. “I don�
�t blame him one bit. Sometimes you behave as though you’re his only client. Not a very best-friend attitude, you know.” She shook her head. “Rearrange a week’s worth of meetings? Why would you ask him to do such a thing?”
He considered saying Because Mom is running you ragged, and you’re beginning to look more like her sister than her daughter. But Sandra had programmed herself to please, even if it meant working to the point of exhaustion. Logan had been the first person she’d told about the abuse, and when he had threatened to show her husband what it felt like to be the victim of a bully, she’d made him swear to guard her secret. She promised to leave, but first, she’d needed a safe place to go. He’d invited her and the kids to move in with him, and they would have…if their mother’s diagnosis hadn’t changed Sandra’s mind.
But he would change her mind about not taking time for herself. “So where would you rather go and relax, Deep Creek Lake or Ocean City?” He owned a condo in the mountains and another at the beach.
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. I don’t need a vacation. I told you, all I need is a little time to cool off and get hold of myself.”
“What makes you think this is about what you need? I’m doing this,” he fibbed, “because I feel guilty letting you do everything. And I have to tell you, I don’t much like the feeling.”
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “We both know that’s a bunch of malarkey.”
“Whatever.” Grinning, he shrugged. “So which will it be, the mountains or the beach?” Logan hoped Bianca wouldn’t back out of the job when she found out about this latest turn of events.
Sandra sighed. “What about Poe?”
“What about her? She’s housebroken….”
“The kids have school.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, they live here, too.”
“And…?”
“I don’t think you realize what you’re proposing.”
He was determined to counter every objection with logic. “I’m not fool enough to believe what you do is easy. Make a schedule. Write down tips.” With his right hand forming the Boy Scout salute, he added, “And don’t go easy on me.”
She only sighed.
“If you’re worried that I’ll let the kids skip school or feed them nothing but junk food the whole time you’re gone, well, don’t.”
She started counting on her fingers. “In addition to homework, Sally has dance lessons, and Sam has softball practice and games. Dad is like Hansel, leaving a messy trail everywhere he goes. Then there’s the cooking and the laundry. And shopping and cleaning and trying to meet Mom’s never-ending demands.”
She ran out of fingers and started over again. “You’d have to make sure Mom takes her meds and eats and gets enough fluids into her so the pills will do their job. Seriously, Logan, it’s a cycle of nonstop craziness that starts the minute you open your eyes and doesn’t stop until you drop, bone-tired, into bed.”
She paused, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You could hire someone, you know.”
“Yeah. I could. But I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s high time I did my share, and hiring someone would be the easy way out.” He shrugged. “Besides, you’ve been doing all that and then some, all by yourself, for more than a year. I can handle it for a few days. But even if I can’t, it won’t kill anybody to get off-schedule for a week.”
“But—”
“No buts. I need to do this, if for no other reason than to prove to you—and myself—that I can. So pick one. Ski resort or ocean? We’re only into the first week of April, so it’ll be quiet in both places. You’ll get plenty of R & R. And don’t worry about how you’ll break the news to Mom. I’ll do it. I’ll tell Dad, and if you want me to, I’ll tell the kids, too.”
Frowning, she bit her lower lip. “I have to admit, it’s a tempting offer, but—”
“You know how much I hate to repeat myself. No buts.” Logan sandwiched her hands between his own. “Sandra. Use your head. Mom is…” He couldn’t bring himself to say dying. “These next few months will be ten times tougher than the past few.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “I thought you knew every tenet of good manners.”
Her nose crinkled with confusion as, one finger in the air, he recited, “‘It is discourteous to look a gift horse in the mouth.’”
It was good to hear her laugh.
“So now you’re making up rules of etiquette? You’re crazy, you know that?”
It was as close to a yes as he’d hear. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re going to the condo at Deep Creek.”
“You know me too well.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re a great brother and a good friend. And I love you to pieces.”
“Ack,” he said, standing. “All this mush is making me nauseous.” Logan put their mugs into the dishwasher. “I’m going home. Make a few calls. Throw a few things in a duffel for Poe and me. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, and then we can sit down. Make some lists, fill in some calendar blocks.” With that, he left before she had a chance to change her mind.
When he returned the next day just before lunch, Logan was surprised to see two suitcases beside the front door. He could hear her humming in the kitchen and took that opportunity to throw her bags into the back of his car.
“Want some tea or coffee?” she asked when he joined her.
“All I want,” he said, pressing the keys to the condo and his car into her palm, “is for you to hit the road. Right now. If you make tracks, you’ll have time to stop at the grocery store before you settle in.”
She stared at the key ring. “I have my own car, you know.”
“But it isn’t gassed up. Or a four-wheel drive. The road to the condo can get muddy and rutty this time of year, you know.” He touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “Besides, your suitcases are already in the trunk.”
“But…I thought I’d leave after the kids got home from school, so I could say goodbye again.”
“Again? That means you’ve already told them you’re going?”
“Yes, but—”
“There you go, butting.” He laughed. “If I know you, you were up half the night writing a detailed manifesto. Where is it?”
“On the kitchen table. With the baby monitor. You’ll need to carry the receiver everywhere and always.”
“Refresh my memory…that thing you say every time you and the kids leave the house?”
“You mean, ‘do you need to use the bathroom?’”
“Yeah. That. Well, do you?”
“No.”
“Good.” Hands on her shoulders, Logan turned her to face the porch and gave a gentle shove. “Call me when you get there.”
Sandra was smiling when he closed the door. Knowing her, she’d stand there for a minute or two trying to decide whether or not to go. So he locked the knob. And the deadbolt. “Remember…call when you get there,” he hollered through the door.
A moment of silence was followed by her quiet laughter. The car had no sooner started up before his mom’s voice crackled through the baby monitor.
“Sandra? Sandra, where are you?”
“And so it begins,” he said, heading for the kitchen. According to Sandra’s list, his mom wasn’t due another dose of morphine until noon.
He took the stairs two at a time, thinking to kill two birds with one stone: find out what she needed, and let her know she’d have to put up with him for the rest of the week.
“Hey, Mom. What can I do for you?”
She said she was surprised to see him. Then she thumped a fist onto the mattress when he told her that Sandra was on her way out of town.
Poe took the thump as an invitation to hop up. She made herself comfortable on the bed and rested her chin on Nancy’s lap.
“I can’t believe she’d leave me high and dry this way.” She stroked the dog’s head. “How selfish and self-centered. I might have known I couldn’t count on her when�
��”
“Mom, that’s ridiculous, and you know it as well as I do. Sandra has put her whole life on hold to devote herself to you all these months.” Even the doctors agreed that if not for Sandra’s unique brand of TLC, it wasn’t likely their mom would have lasted this long. “She needs a break, and you know that, too. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of waiting on you.” He stepped up to the bed and thrust out his chin. “At your service, madam,” he said, bowing. “Coffee? A soda? Some tea and crumpets, perhaps?”
“That’s the worst impersonation of an English butler I’ve ever heard.”
“Beg pardon, madam.”
“The worst British accent, too.” But she was smiling when she said, “It’s time for my soap opera.”
Logan dropped the accent to say, “The remote is right there on your nightstand.”
“But…but Sandra always turns it on for me.”
“This seems as good a time as any to set a few things straight.” He crossed the room, tuned the TV to her favorite channel, then sat on the edge of her bed. “Look. Mom. I love you. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But I’m not Sandra.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you can’t bully or guilt-trip me.”
“Bully? Guilt trip! Why, I’ve never—”
Logan silenced her with a stern you’re-not-fooling-me look, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to get you a bowl of the soup Sandra made this morning,” he said, handing her the remote. He tapped the baby monitor. “If you need anything, just whistle.”
Poe followed close on his heels, and on the landing, Logan patted her head. “Think she’ll actually whistle?”
“Do what?” his dad said, hanging his coat in the hall closet.
“You’re home early.”
“Just here for lunch, same as every day. What are you doing here?”
So in addition to everything else she did around here, Sandra prepared their dad’s lunch, too?
Leading the way into the kitchen, Logan explained the reason for his presence in the house. “Don’t mind telling you, wasn’t easy watching how Mom treats Sandra. She’s doing her best, but you’d never know it by the way Mom talks to her.” He lifted the lid to the soup pot. “I know Mom’s in pain. And scared.” He grabbed the ladle. “But she’s running Sandra ragged. Things keep up this way, Sandra will be in the hospital when Mom needs her most.” Filling the bowl, he added, “So I sent her to Deep Creek, with strict orders to get some rest.” He dipped his dad a bowl of soup, too.