She pressed her lips together tightly.
Outside, feeble sunlight seeped through breaks in the gray sky. The forecast called for snow, but not until later that evening. She pushed her hands into her pockets, wishing she’d worn gloves, and waited for Logan to join her on the sidewalk.
She motioned toward the alley alongside the clinic. “My car’s around back.”
He shook his head. “It’s close enough to walk. Unless you’re cold?”
“Not even a little bit,” she said, which became true under the heat of his scrutiny.
He inclined his head to the right, and she swung alongside him on the sidewalk. Though Thanksgiving was still a week away, the town had gotten an early jump on Christmas decorations. Bright red bows adorned every lamppost. Here and there, wreaths and garland festooned doorways and windows. By the time the nativity began, every home and business would be decked in holiday cheer.
Logan motioned toward a team of men fastening a silver star to the top of a tall tower. “That’s what happens when you live in Bethlehem, I guess.”
She’d been thinking the same thing. Smiling, she shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “I was surprised to see you in town today.”
His mouth twisted in a droll grin. “What, you thought I never left the castle?”
Humor. She liked it better than the glower he wore so often. She squinted and pretended to consider the idea. “Do you blame me? I’ve lived here for two years and I’ve only bumped into you a dozen or so times.”
Immediately, she regretted the telling remark. If he hadn’t been watching her with that curious gleam, she’d have smacked herself on the forehead. At least he seemed inclined to ignore her gaffe. He motioned toward Bay View Street and the direction of the marina.
Interesting choice. Bethlehem hugged the coast, and while there were bait-and-tackle shops aplenty lining the shore, she wasn’t aware of any restaurants. Even Trapper’s, purported to have the best seafood in town, lay in the opposite direction. Instead of questioning, she determined to enjoy the walk and let him lead.
“So what about you?” she asked. “How long have you lived in Bethlehem?”
“Eight years.”
“Long time.”
He shrugged. “We moved here right after my wife got hired on at the university.”
“She was a professor?”
He nodded. “Zoology. She worked in Trenton for a while, at the Acadia Zoological Park, but then she decided she wanted to focus on wildlife habitats.”
A tumbler clicked into place. Leesa slowed her steps. “So, the animals back at your house…?”
“Part of her research.”
Resuming her pace, she mulled his words. Logan must have loved his wife very much to have been so supportive of her work. And now? Why continue the feed and care of the animals? Was it only out of a sense of devotion?
Veering right, they left the bricked buildings of downtown for a row of brightly painted clapboard shops, pausing when they came to a particularly quaint building with butter-yellow sides and green trim. A sign above the door read HARVEY’S.
Logan motioned toward the shop, a curious half grin on his lips. “Well, we’re here. What do you think?”
Leesa looked at him askance. “Harvey’s is a boat-repair shop. I know, because I came in here once looking for sailcloth I could use as a sling.”
Undaunted, he reached for the knob and gave it a twist. “True, but the owner also makes a mean enchilada casserole. Oh, and I should warn you.” He tipped his head toward the door. “They open before the sun rises so the fishermen have bait, which means they eat supper early.” Moving to the jingle of a single brass bell, he swept aside and motioned her in. “You coming?”
She raised one eyebrow skeptically. “This I gotta see.”
Shelves of boat supplies and parts lined the inside of Harvey’s. The man himself was stooped beside a row of bins filled with an odd assortment of levers and hooks. He looked over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses at their entrance and then straightened completely when he caught sight of Logan.
“Well, if it isn’t my old amigo, Logan Franks. Long time no see.” He bustled toward them, swiping his hands on a white apron fastened around his waist. “ ’Bout time you came around. I was telling mi esposa, oh your pardon, miss”—he dipped his head toward Leesa—“I mean I was telling my wife that it’s been too long.”
Logan gripped the man in a firm handshake—the kind that spoke affection, with both men grasping the other’s elbow at the same time—then flashed a broad smile. “It’s good to see you too, Javier.” He lifted his nose and sniffed. “Is that Lali’s tortillas I smell?”
Javier’s belly shook. “It sure is.” He crooked an eyebrow at Leesa. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Leesa smiled as Logan stepped aside and motioned her forward. “Javier, I believe you’ve met my friend Leesa McElroy. She owns the veterinary clinic on Main.”
Javier clasped her hand and gave it a warm shake—not quite as affectionate as the one he’d given Logan, but still nice. “Yes, we’ve met. How’d the sling work out?”
“Great,” she said. “Thank you so much for all your help.”
“It was my pleasure.”
She glanced back toward the door. “So, the sign outside? I didn’t realize you owned the place.”
At her look of confusion, Javier shrugged. “Not too many people can pronounce Javier. Harvey is easier.”
He grinned then wandered to the front of the store, flipped the closed sign, and turned the lock. Returning, he draped an arm about Logan’s shoulders. “Business has been slow today anyway. Come to the back. Lali’s going to be so happy to see you, Logan.”
Leaving the boat shop was as simple and immediate as stepping through a door. On the other side of the threshold lay a comfortable home, clean and neat, and tastefully furnished. The trio skirted a wide living room with a large window that overlooked the bay, and wound toward the kitchen, where the aroma of fresh corn tortillas and grilled onions wafted.
“Look who I found,” Javier announced before they were fully inside.
“Logan!” A plump woman with streaks of gray running through her raven hair clapped her hands and then flung a ruffled apron from around her neck. “Javier and I were just talking about you.”
She circled a large red worktable to envelope him in a warm hug. Noting the moisture that rose to the woman’s eyes, Leesa hung back. Obviously, these people cared very much for Logan. She wondered about their relationship and why he’d stayed away so long.
Lali’s gaze swung to rest on her. She released Logan and offered a shy smile. “And who is your friend?”
“Lali, this is Leesa McElroy.”
Lali extended her hand. “Lali Reyes. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” Leesa replied, shaking the woman’s hand.
She had a nice grip, confident and warm, but not so tight as to be intimidating. What Leesa found discomfiting was the odd way the older woman searched her face. Whatever she looked for, she seemed to find, for she gave a slight tip of her head and her lips tilted in a smile of approval.
“Welcome. I was just about to start supper. I hope the two of you are hungry.”
“We sure are. Enchiladas?” Logan asked.
She crossed to a drawer and removed two green bib aprons. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” She laid one apron on the counter and carried the other to Leesa. “I hope Logan explained.” She quirked an eyebrow at him that said she knew he hadn’t. “Around here, everyone pitches in.”
Relief sagged Leesa’s shoulders. “That’s perfect.”
How many times had she gathered around the kitchen table with her mom and sisters? How many dinners and batches of Christmas cookies spent poring over cookbooks and batter bowls?
But that was before she’d had her heart broken in Bangor.
Lowering her gaze, she took extra care knotting the apron strings around her waist. In her peripheral vision, she saw Logan doing the same while
Lali chatted.
“You okay?”
His proximity surprised her. He stood mere inches from her, his attention focused first on her trembling fingers, and then on her face.
“Leesa?”
She swallowed and smoothed the apron over her hips. “I’m fine.”
Lali withdrew a grater and large block of golden cheddar. “Good. Then you can grate the cheese.”
Kindness shone from the older woman’s steady gaze. She nodded encouragingly as she held up the grater. Leesa accepted it gratefully.
“Hey, that’s my job,” Javier protested, shoving his glasses higher on his nose.
“Not today. Today, you chop the onions.” Javier groaned as Lali removed a slatted cutting board and plunked it on the counter in front of her husband. Unphased, she laughed and turned to Logan. “And you…”
Logan raised his hands. “I stir the chili.”
“Riiight.”
“Somebody needs to keep it from burning.”
She crossed her arms, a look of mock disgust flashing across her face. “Fine, but use a wooden spoon.” She jerked her head toward a crock filled with utensils. “Over there.”
He selected one then saluted Lali with it before turning to a large pot of chili bubbling on the stove.
After washing her hands, Leesa set about grating a generous portion of cheese then stood back to watch as Lali, Javier, and Logan began rolling up tortillas and filling a large pan with enchiladas, assembly-line style.
Dinner was casual and filled with warm conversation. Leesa envied the intimate relationship Logan shared with the couple—the admiration and respect she saw reciprocated between them. After the final dish was scrubbed and replaced in the cupboard, Logan grabbed their coats and invited Leesa outside onto a broad deck stretching out over the water.
“Go,” Javier urged, pulling a metal coffee tin off a shelf while Lali prepared a tray of cookies. “We’ll join you in a minute.”
Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”
She smiled as she allowed him to help her into her coat, liking the way his hands lingered on her shoulders and the tingle that traveled her flesh when his fingers grazed her neck.
Outside, a nip sharpened the air, but Logan drove it back with the flip of a switch on a portable heater. He motioned to a bench near the water, and Leesa sat to look out over the waves.
For a while, neither spoke, enjoying the gentle lap of water against the deck pilings and the occasional moan of a boat horn.
Leesa jerked her chin over her shoulder toward the house then burrowed into the warmth of her coat. “I like them.”
“Me, too.” Logan’s breath formed a smoky plume against the purple evening sky. “Miranda introduced us. Said they reminded her of her parents.”
“They liked her, too. I could tell by the way they talked about her.” Without sorrow or regret, Leesa noted silently. They’d spoken Miranda’s name with hope. She shivered and folded her hands in her lap. “Hard to believe I’ve lived in Bethlehem for two years and never bothered to get to know them. It’s a small town, after all.”
Maybe it wasn’t townspeople who’d never accepted her. Maybe she’d never accepted them.
Warm fingers closed over hers. Fleetingly. She had just enough time to cast a wondering glance at their clasped hands before Logan pulled his away. “It’s never easy settling in a new place. It takes time getting to know people.”
Her lips parted in surprise. Recovering, she pressed her mouth closed. “Very intuitive.”
His eyes twinkled, and he turned to gaze out over the bay.
“What about you?” she prodded. Now that she’d caught a glimpse of the man behind the scowl, she couldn’t resist. “Are the Reyes the only people in Bethlehem you’re close to?”
He shrugged. “There have been others. But Javier and his wife are special. They were there for me after I lost Miranda.”
Leesa’s breath hitched at the sorrow twisting his features. It was no wonder he rarely smiled. This man bore a heavy burden. Instinctively, she lowered her voice. “Mind if I ask how she died?”
His lashes swept down to hide his gorgeous, soulful eyes. “Car accident. She was driving home late one night and lost control on an icy road.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
He exhaled deeply, and she regretted having dredged up so much heartache. She was about to suggest they go back inside when he looked at her and smiled.
“I don’t…talk about it much.”
Her heart in her throat, she could only nod.
He turned to face her, so close their knees touched. “You know, I wasn’t sure about this whole nativity thing at first, but now…”
“Now?”
Was it her imagination, or did he lean closer?
“Maybe it’s time I put the past behind me and started living again.”
The words loosed a rush of surging emotions. She licked her lips, uncertain how to respond, but certain she wanted to. If only she could do the same and forget Bangor. “Logan—”
The door crashed open and Lali rushed out, with Javier close at her heels. “Logan!”
He jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
She thrust a phone toward him. “It’s Pete. He’s at Bethlehem Municipal waiting for a flight. His father’s had a heart attack.”
Chapter 5
Dried corn rattled from the bucket in Logan’s hand into a squat, wooden bin. Too late, he realized he’d passed the full mark. Kernels scattered in every direction, rolling into cracks in the floorboards. He groaned. His whole morning had gone much the same way, all because he couldn’t keep his thoughts off Pete for more than two minutes at a time.
A low growl sounded, and Logan turned his head. Wolf chided him from the doorway, his shaggy head lowered in disapproval.
“I know. Focus.”
He dropped the bucket and moved toward the closest stall. If it weren’t for the animals—he opened the gate and stepped back to let the cow through—he’d have been on a plane to check on Pete and his father in person.
He worked the latch closed then reached for a broom. Pete would have arrived in Buffalo late. He’d probably driven to the hospital, gotten an update, and was now catching a couple of hours rest before he remembered to call Logan, which meant any time now—
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Logan snatched it out. “Pete?”
“Yeah.”
“How is he?”
“Stable. He’s out of surgery and resting. His doctor even sounded a little more optimistic this morning than he did last night.”
“That’s good.”
“I guess. But Logan…”
“Yeah?”
Pete drew a shuddering breath. “Dad’s going to have a pretty lengthy recovery. I know I said I was going to stick around for Christmas, but Mom—”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“The farm?”
“I can manage on my own for a while.”
Pete blew out a sigh. Even with the miles separating them, anxiety thrummed along the line. Logan gripped the phone tighter. “He’s going to be okay, Pete.”
Why did he say that? He had no idea if Pete’s father would be okay.
“I hope you’re right.” There was a pause, followed by, “I’m really sorry, Logan.”
“Don’t be. You’re where you need to be.”
Silence, and then a muffled, “Thanks. And about the plane ticket?”
“Think of it as an early Christmas present.”
Pete sniffed. “I’ll call you in a couple of days to let you know how he’s doing.”
“Sounds good. And don’t worry about things here. Take care of yourself and your family.”
“Will do.”
They said their good-byes, and Logan hung up and replaced the phone in his pocket.
“Was that him?” Leesa stood framed in the barn entrance, the same spot where Wolf had been moments ago. She gestured to the phone.
“Pete?”
Logan nodded and scanned the barn. Wolf had disappeared, but Leesa still looked at him, waiting. He gave her a quick update. “It’ll probably be a day or two before the family really knows what they’re facing, but at least they can be sure he’s in good hands.”
She dropped her gaze, fidgeted a bit, and then dragged a wool scarf from around her neck and looped it over her arm. “Poor Pete. This has to be hard on him.”
Logan jerked his head toward the door. “I didn’t hear you drive up. You just get here?”
“Yeah. I probably should’ve called first. I just thought…I mean, I figured with Pete gone…”
Her booted feet shuffled against the barn floor. Booted—as in work boots—not the sunny yellow things she’d worn the last time she came. His gaze traveled upward, past her jean-clad legs, over the brown Carhartt jacket, to the work gloves clutched in one hand.
She gave an almost embarrassed shrug. “I thought you could use some help.”
His heart did a tiny flip. The woman did more to unsettle his calm than anyone he’d ever met, except for Miranda. He grunted a “thanks” and turned his back. Rude though it was, he needed a minute, and he took his time replacing the broom and securing the feed bucket before gesturing for her to follow.
The sheep barn was the oldest structure on the farm, but it was by far Logan’s favorite. Whimsical in its way, the faded gray walls reminded him of his grandparents’ home back up around Moosehead Lake and of summer days spent climbing through haylofts. He set the bucket by the door and lifted the latch.
“You came at a good time. This is where I keep the sheep. You can look them over while I feed and water ’em, maybe pick out the ones you want to use for the nativity.”
He pushed open the door and prepared to let her pass before retrieving the bucket, but she grabbed the handle before he could reach for it and swung it from her fingertips.
“Is this for the sheep?”
He nodded. “This time of year, I add minerals to their diet. There are feeders in every stall.”
“How much do you give them?”
“The sheep take what they want. I just make sure the feeders are full.”
“Sounds easy enough. Where are the minerals?”
Christmas Comes to Bethlehem - Maine Page 15