The next morning, however, it began to drizzle. By noon, it was pouring rain, and by one-thirty, Logan was doggedly plowing through the dripping underbrush with his miserable students behind him, searching for an area Jack Jameson had labeled on a hand drawn map, "Soil pits, one, two and three."
It poured for the remainder of the week, and Logan managed to keep one step ahead of his class only by spending his evenings crouched over a loose leaf binder reviewing Jack's abysmally abbreviated notes and turning over his wool socks in hopes they'd dry before morning, when he had to pull them on again and head back into the infernal bush with his team of students who moaned and complained about the weather.
He overheard enough conversations to know that the students considered him a slave driver and an unfair marker on tests. He refused to give a mark higher than C because he felt these youngsters weren't trying hard enough. He also knew that they were spending most evenings drying out in the Northway and cursing the Itasca field sessions and Professor Baxter with equal vehemence.
By Thursday afternoon, if it hadn't been for the approaching weekend and knowing that Karena was waiting for him, he would have climbed into his Jeep and driven straight back to St. Paul, leaving Jameson's students to forage on their own for the next four weeks in the muddy soil pits.
He had decided he hated teaching and he also hated the woods when it rained.
Friday was the worst day yet. Logan dismissed the soaked and dismal group at two in the afternoon, after handing back their ecology papers full of red marks and low grades, along with a piece of his waterlogged mind.
"I want some real thought next time, some attempt at real learning," he'd lectured them scathingly. "Anyone can memorize and regurgitate facts. I want you to be able to understand those facts, to build on them during the next few years at college."
The students listened, murmuring among themselves. Then, to Logan's amazement, they insisted he come along and warm up with them at the Northway over a beer and expand on his weird ideas about education. Also, several of them were still interested in Mort, and wanted to hear more about him.
Feeling as if he'd been released from prison on a weekend pass, he piled as many students as he could into the Jeep. It probably was grounds for dismissal, to go drinking with your students, but Logan couldn't have cared less. They'd been through a lot together in the past five days.
The week had been long and wet for Karena, as well. Sometimes, the woods were closed to logging when it rained heavily, but this week they stayed open. So each morning, she donned her oilskins, and by ten o'clock she was soaked anyway because they were too confining and hot to wear, so she ended up taking them off. The roads were slippery, the drivers short-tempered, and even the birds seemed to have deserted the area.
Even Abigail was less cheerful than usual.
"Last week, Max asked me for my phone number, so I gave it to him and my heart hammered all weekend," she confided to Karena at lunchtime. "He called me Sunday, and you know what he wanted?"
Karena shook her head.
"He wanted my advice on this woman he's dating. Did I think she'd be interested in going to a power saw exhibition?"
"What did you tell him?"
"What do you think? I told him of course she would, any woman in her right mind would love to go anywhere with Max." She scooped up cottage cheese with apple mixed in. "Then I went out and ate a whole pizza by myself."
"Maybe you said the right thing," Karena said thoughtfully. "I suspect the type of women Max dates aren't all that fascinated with power saws."
"Yeah, that crossed my mind, all right," Abigail admitted smugly.
Otis came by Monday evening, and after sending Danny outside on an errand, he started right in.
"That professor, here all weekend, haven't you any respect for yourself, daughter? What example is that for Danny?"
"Logan will be around again next weekend, Pop," Karena said firmly. "We're going into Bemidji."
"People are talking."
"Ole Svenson's wife, probably. Like Mom used to say, if they're talking about me, they're leaving someone else alone."
"Ole Svenson came to see me last night," Otis then announced portentously.
Ole Svenson hadn't wasted any time. Karena felt vaguely amused at her neighbor's tactics, until Otis added, "Said that moose calf was in his yard, and he figured he was going to have to take a gun to him eventually if it kept on happening."
Karena was aghast. "He didn't really say that, did he, Pop?"
Otis nodded. "Sure did. Can't say I blame him much, either. Something's got to be done with that nuisance before he gets much bigger, you know that, girl. He's a wild animal, not a house pet."
Karena heard a noise in the doorway and turned around. Danny stood there, his face flushed with anger, fists knotted at his sides.
"That mean old guy had better not touch Mort," he said angrily, glaring at Otis. "You better not either, Grampa."
"Danny," Karena began consolingly, "I don't think—"
"None of you better hurt him, you hear me, Grampa?" Danny's voice rose to a near shout.
Otis replied threateningly, "Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice, boy."
But Danny wasn't backing down. "I hear you all the time talking to Mom about Mort, about sending him away or something. But I'm not allowed to say anything, even though he's mine, and I won't let you hurt him."
Danny thrust his jaw out belligerently and stood his ground as Otis got heavily to his feet, towering threateningly over the youngster. Karena shook her head warningly at her son and moved to stand beside him. Danny suddenly wrenched away from Karena's grip, and was gone out the door before the adults could move.
"In my day," the old man began in an enraged tone, "no boy would be allowed to talk to his grandfather like that." He sank back down in the arinchair he'd been sitting in. "He's got no respect. You're too soft on that boy, letting him have his way always. Well, I wash my hands of the whole thing. Don't come to me when him and his animal get you in trouble."
In a quiet, deadly voice, Karena said, "If you go on this way, being judgmental and miserable all the time, nobody's going to come to you, Pop, certainly not me or Danny. You'll end up a lonely old man. What's the matter with you? All you do is lecture and disapprove and complain. I've met someone I care for, and instead of being happy for me, you do your best to drive him away. I'm not a child, I'm nearly thirty years old, and Danny is growing up fast. You're driving us away from you. Can't you let us lead our own lives, and be happy with us?"
In typical fashion, Otis clamped his jaw shut, got up, collected his jacket and left the house without another word.
Danny came in long after dark, his expression mutinous and closed when Karena tried to talk to him about what had occurred.
"I think most of what your Grampa said tonight was just threats, Danny," she tried to explain. "But you and I should talk about what we're going to do eventually about Mort. You know we can't keep him once he's full grown, and he's starting to make trouble for us."
"Why talk about it?" Her son's voice was desolate, and Karena felt torn apart when he added angrily, "You'll just do what Grampa wants, like always." Then he went to his room and shut the door firmly.
Karena did the evening chores automatically, her mind going over and over the earlier scene. Danny was overreacting, she knew that. It was ridiculous to say that her father made all her decisions for her. But there was some truth in Danny's accusation. She had gone along with Otis's way of doing things before Logan came along, mostly because it seemed easier to do so than confront him. Lately, however, she'd been meeting him head on, but always making sure Danny wasn't around when she did it. And because she'd been protecting her son from the arguments with his grandpa, he now thought she was a wimp. Did a parent ever win?
She walked despondently down to the lake. It was crazy to miss someone as intensely as she missed Logan tonight. She longed for him, needing a friend to talk with, a lover to hold and comfort
her, a partner to help her with the difficult task of dealing with a crotchety old man like her father, of raising a boy who soon would become a young man.
Her son was growing up far too quickly for her to adjust. There'd been a break in his voice tonight that she hadn't heard before, a hint of hormones beginning to turn his child's body into a man's. In another year, he'd be a teenager.
Her life was changing all around her, and it was happening much too soon. She gazed up at the overcast, dark sky entreatingly. You up there, she wanted to beg. Slow it all down, give me time to think about it, to get used to all this change.
A sudden, fierce wind came rushing through the trees, making the pines sigh and bend and crack, blowing the lake water into waves that splashed against the shore.
Shivering, Karena headed slowly back up to the dark house, and Mort gave a small, lonely rumble when she passed his pen.
"There he is, Mom, there's Logan, right over by that station wagon, see him? Pull the pickup in there, Mom. Hurry, before somebody else takes the spot."
Karena shook her head in exasperation at her son.
"Half this lot is empty, Danny," she remonstrated, carefully inching into the place he'd chosen.
After Danny's outburst the previous Monday, Karena had made several efforts to talk with him about his grandfather's influence in their lives, and especially to discuss Mort's future. But for a boy who spent most of his waking hours talking, Danny had clammed right up. After several frustrating soliloquies, punctuated by his "It's okay, forget it," and, "Don't worry about it, Mom," Karena hadn't given up, but she had been worn down.
If there was a way to make a twelve year old discuss something he had no intention of discussing with his mother, she sure hadn't learned it. On the other hand, he was more than willing to spend the entire week talking about Logan.
"Did you know Logan knows kung fu, Mom? Man, I'd like to learn it, a guy never knows when he might need to defend himself."
And then, "Logan went to Hawaii once, did you know the biggest privately owned cattle ranch in the world is in Hawaii, Mom?"
She hadn't known. She'd never been too curious about exotic places, being perfectly content here at home. But her son wanted to travel.
"He's been to San Francisco and Los Angeles, too. And the old-car museum in Reno." That had never once crossed Karena's mind as being one of the wonders of the world, but she didn't say so. Anyway, Danny didn't give her a chance to say anything.
"He's going to show me his pictures. Imagine, traveling to all those places, Mom," he said yearningly. "Gee, the only city I've ever seen is Bemidji."
"You've definitely led a deprived life, Danny, no doubt about it," she joshed him, but secretly, a sense of inadequacy rose in her, a feeling that she was being unfair to this eager son of hers.
It was true, they'd never traveled at all, even though in the past few years she might have been able to afford a holiday somewhere for the two of them, other than the camping and fishing trips they'd taken together since Danny was a baby.
Danny jumped out the instant the truck stopped and he and Logan went through some intricate slapping handshake routine.
Mindful of the other people around them, Karena held out a hand to Logan in formal greeting, devouring his tall, rangy form with her eyes and feeling happiness well up inside her at being with him again.
He took her hand, making her aware of tiny prickles running up her arm at his touch, but then he used it to draw her smoothly into his arms, kissing her very satisfactorily right there in the parking lot before she drew away, blushing.
Although Danny had a pleased, embarrassed grin on his face, "Yuck," he commented succinctly.
Just as Karena had forecast, the basketball game seemed to go on forever. They sat with the sprinkling of other parents who'd turned out that Saturday morning, and watched Danny sit on the sidelines. He finally had a chance on the floor late in the game, and Karena's heart hammered with nervousness. But the whistle blew and the game ended before her son had a chance to do more than run the length of the court twice. The score was seventy-two to thirty-seven, for Bemidji.
Danny was totally undaunted by the loss.
"Boy, we nearly had 'em, eh, Logan? Did'ja see Stanley make that perfect lay-up? He can really shoot, huh, Logan? The whole team's going to McDonald's for lunch; can I go, too?"
Karena and Logan ended up having a wonderful lunch on their own in a small, cheery cafe near McDonald's.
He made her laugh, telling her about the week's experiences as a wet, disgruntled field instructor trying to stay one step ahead of his students and force them into using their brains.
She made him laugh by relating Mort's latest passion. The misguided animal had now decided he liked the smell of car exhaust, and would stand with his forelegs braced, sniffing the gaseous fumes in an orgy of pleasure if he had the opportunity, and then staggering slightly when he tried to walk, obviously intoxicated.
"That moose has an addictive personality" Karena remarked morosely. "We're going to have to check him into a rehab center before we're through. It's a good thing he's never been exposed to alcohol."
But Logan didn't laugh at all when she related Ole Svenson's dire threats about Mort. After meeting Ole Svenson, he thought it entirely possible the man might do exactly what he said.
"I mentioned Mort to Brian Sutton, the forest manager up at Itasca, and he's heard of a wildlife project in Michigan that might be the answer. He's writing for information. Also, a couple of my students asked if it might be possible for them to come and meet Mort. I said I'd ask."
Meeting Logan's students wasn't a welcome idea for Karena, but after a slight hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. "When might they be coming?"
He reached across and squeezed her hand. "I'm not ready to share you quite yet, so I didn't give them a specific date. Maybe nearer the end of the session."
It reminded her that they only had three more weekends together after this one. Not long at all.
She forced herself back to the present, to the exciting prospect of spending today and tomorrow together. The future would have to take care of itself. She intended to enjoy the present to the fullest.
Danny met them after lunch, and there was an awkward moment when Logan invited them to go along for a quick visit to Betsy and Cliff Gardom's farm before the drive back home.
"They know I'm working at Itasca, and they'll all wonder why I'm not spending the weekends with them. Betsy would love to see you again," he assured Karena. "She asked about you on the phone the other day."
How wonderful to be that sure of a welcome for your friends, she thought enviously. But Karena couldn't face the strain of a repeat visit. Remembering her awkward shyness made her feel inadequate and nervous at the prospect.
"I have some personal shopping to do before I go back," she temporized. "You go ahead, and we'll meet back home later this evening."
"But, Mom, I want to talk with Mr. Gardom about Mort's feed, and besides I want to see Alex and Liz again,"Danny was quick to protest. "Can't we go just for little while?" he begged.
"Why don't you come along with me, and we'll give your mom some time to shop on her own?" Logan suggested diplomatically, but Karena caught the puzzled, anxious glance he sent in her direction. He must think she didn't want to have anything to do with his relatives, she thought miserably, watching Danny slide happily into the seat beside Logan before they drove off.
How could she expect Logan to accept the degree of social isolation she preferred and needed?
As soon as Logan's Jeep disappeared around the corner, she headed for her truck, and the lonely drive back up the highway to home.
As she drove, she reviewed the differences between her and Logan in their backgrounds, their way of life, their education, their personalities, and her spirits sank lower and lower.
It didn't seem very probable that even the love they shared could overcome all that. But she wanted so much to share Logan's life. He'd made an effort to be a
part of hers. Couldn't she do the same? Couldn't they meet somewhere in the middle?
She'd have to change drastically to do it. She wasn't at all sure she could, no matter how much she wanted to.
Chapter Nine
"Hand me that board, woman, and stop your laughing. It's downright disrespectful." But Logan's dark eyes danced behind his glasses, and his mouth quirked with rueful recognition of his inadequacies as a builder.
He'd hardly built a thing in his entire life, and he much preferred microscopes to hammers. Gabe had offered his services as well, and Logan was secretly relieved to have the older man helping, until he realized Gabe had even less ability than he did.
Karena picked up the two-by-four Logan indicated, and handed it to him, holding it firmly while he nailed it clumsily to the fence. She smothered her amusement as he muttered under his breath when he missed the nail several times.
The meticulous measuring and careful placement of every board and beam, the double and triple checking with levels and tape measures and squares that she was so accustomed to when her father built anything, were totally missing in these two carefree carpenters.
Logan's measurements consisted of "about" and "nearly." Gabe relied on "close enough" and "a man riding hard in the dark would never notice that," which soon had both her and Danny giggling helplessly when they happened to meet each other's astonished gaze.
Both Carlsons were unable to keep from imagining the absolute shocked horror on Otis's face if he ever heard such blasphemy applied to what he considered the almost religious ritual of building. .
Which method did she prefer?
She had only to look over at her son to see what fun he was having. For the first time in his life, Danny was enjoying construction—if this hit-or-miss comedy could be labeled construction.
Danny was busy nailing boards and sawing. He'd been encouraged by the men to make decisions about the project. Logan also actually asked Danny to bring out his small radio and turn it up full blast to a rock station. Karena had her doubts about how long her eardrums could stand it, but Logan was obviously relishing the noise, and even Gabe didn't seem to object in the slightest.
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