by Tracy Ewens
Her old self told her she had no business being there as Kara got out of the car and noticed the storm clouds building. The air smelled of rain and Kara told her old self to shut up. She gently took the fixture, wrapped in burlap, out of the back of her car. She held it to her chest as if she could somehow squeeze a piece of herself into her last gift to Logan.
He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want her, at least not for the long-term. Old Kara would have told him to go screw himself and moved right on. This Kara, the person she’d spent time with lately, was exposed, raw. Damn it, she hated raw. When she’d felt exposed in the past, she had crawled up into her tower, as Logan called it. But that didn’t work anymore. She liked herself like this.
Maybe she would take Jake up on his offer to build a studio in town for her to showcase her work. She would drop the light fixture off and then it would be “Time to celebrate you”—that’s what her Nana had said on every birthday when she’d arrived at the door draped in shopping bags. Kara’s birthday was a few months away, but it was time to celebrate herself. With or without Logan Rye, she’d taken a journey and found her truest self.
She stood at the entrance to The Yard for a beat hoping her heart would stop racing. Just as she was having second thoughts, the door opened and a group of happy, celebrating people spilled out. Kara could hear the music and the hum of people enjoying their evening. She walked into the restaurant and her heart stopped pounding as it melted into a slow ache for what she couldn’t make work.
“Kara.” Summer smiled as she grabbed menus and walked a couple over to the “lover’s cove” table. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, sure,” Kara said, standing in the front of a restaurant that no longer felt familiar. They were busy and she would normally make herself comfortable or walk back to the kitchen, but now she stood there like a stranger.
Makenna came buzzing in from the patio area carrying a tray of dirty dishes. She stopped when she saw Kara.
“Hi.” Kenna was clearly going for relaxed even though Kara could see her mind spinning with questions.
“Hi. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to drop this off.”
“What is it?” she asked handing the tray to a passing busser and wiping her hands on a towel behind the hostess station.
As she met Makenna’s eyes, Kara found that she couldn’t quite speak, so she simply handed the bundle to her.
“Heavy, let’s bring it over here.” Makenna walked into the restaurant and set the fixture on the pizza counter.
Kara said nothing; she could smell the food and hear the kitchen activity through the service window. She let out a deep breath as Makenna started pulling at the twine of the package.
Kara glanced up, and her eyes found him. Logan was once again standing in his kitchen peering out through the service window at her. They’d come full circle, but this time, once the shock wore off his face, Logan gave her a cursory nod and then averted his eyes. He wasn’t coming out of his kitchen this time. He was on one side of the narrow street in Paris and she was on the other, but unlike when they were younger, he wouldn’t cross the street. He wasn’t going to take her in his arms and kiss her, tell her he loved her. That wasn’t what was going to happen and Kara had learned enough about herself to know better than to stand there waiting for him.
Makenna pulled back the last piece of burlap from the fixture and gasped.
“Oh, Kara, this is gorgeous. It’s for the private dining room. I almost forgot,” she said and must have seen something on Kara’s face because she looked toward the kitchen for her brother.
“Thank you. It’s finished and I thought I would bring it by, but I didn’t realize . . . I need to go.” Kara stared down at the fixture, unable to look anywhere else.
“Okay.” Kenna touched her arm and brought her out of her trance. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started to say, but Kenna touched her back and held the front door open. “How is he?” Kara found herself asking as a gust of the approaching storm hit her.
“He’s a mess. Kara, I’m sure he wants to see you. You guys should—”
“No.” Kara clicked her car open and the dim lights came on. “There’s no point. I wanted to bring the light by. It turned out really nice. We, I, used the glass that was left over from the garage. I think he’ll . . .” Kara’s entire body felt like the storm above, and as rain started sprinkling, she pulled Kenna into a hug.
“Kara.” Kenna’s voice was thick with emotion.
Kara pulled back. “I’m fine. We’ll both be fine. It’s best to let it go.”
“I don’t agree. Neither of you look fine to me, but I’m certainly not one to give out advice. I’ll show him the light fixture and we’ll put it up tonight,” Makenna said, sadness in her eyes. “Take care, Kara.”
“Thanks, Kenna.” Kara got into her car. As she closed the door, it began pouring rain. She watched Makenna run back into the restaurant. Kara turned her headlights on, wiped the tears from her eyes, and drove home.
It rained through the night. Kara woke early, made a Thermos of tea, and pulled her boots and slicker on. She wanted to get into her studio early to finish the lamp she’d started last week. The rain had made the tiles of the walkway a deep orange that contrasted so beautifully with the green of the grass, she stopped to watch. She loved her home, especially when it rained. She sat on the stone bench outside her studio. With the hood of her slicker up, she was dry while everything else was washed. She poured herself some tea into the twist cup of the Thermos and thought about all the times she played in the rain as a kid. With her friends after the Sadie Hawkins dance in seventh grade. Their cook had stayed late and made kettle corn and hot chocolate. They’d danced in the rain and then watched The Princess Diaries in the living room. Kara’s childhood was sprinkled with spectacular moments of normal. She clung to them when she felt like she was drowning. The rain hit her navy-and-green rain boots as she kicked her feet in front of her.
Eventually, she stood and finished the rainy waltz to her studio. She shook out of her slicker and left her boots at the door. Once inside, she turned on the lights, lit a candle, and sat taking in her space. She loved it here and had often thought of making her whole house like this, but she wasn’t sure she could achieve the same feeling in a larger space. Sometimes smaller spaces held on tighter. That was probably why children hid under the covers or babies balled up. Small spaces were manageable, safe. Kara couldn’t keep out the memory of the tent in Logan’s backyard. They’d been so in sync, so in love, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Small spaces were safe, because as soon as she stepped out, wanted more, he shut her out. It wasn’t fair, but Nana always said, “No one ever promised fair.” Kara moved to her worktable and started to pull out a few pieces of glass that might work in the still-empty spaces of her lampshade. She turned her music on, letting it play softly so she could still hear the rain, and got to work.
A few hours later, Logan opened the door to her studio and walked in. He didn’t care that he was dripping wet. He’d barely noticed, hadn’t felt anything after Makenna and Travis hung her lighting fixture in the private dining area last night. They’d all gone home around one and he’d sat there staring at the flecks of light. He’d traced the reflections on the table with his finger, trying through scratchy eyes to figure out why he couldn’t put her away. He’d done it after Paris, but this was different, deeper. He’d shut all the lights off in the restaurant except for the dining area and lover’s cove. The light she cast over his restaurant made it hard to breathe. She was part of his place, part of him. He couldn’t find a way to give her what she wanted and he couldn’t find a way to let her go. After tossing around in his bed for a few hours, Logan decided he needed her and he would figure the rest out later.
He closed the door to her studio. She was sitting at her table and before his brain even engaged, his heart dragged him straight to her. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. He moved
to her neck and buried his head in her hair. He could feel his eyes well.
“The fixture is incredible. God, I miss you.”
Kara looked stunned. She didn’t move.
“I can’t find my way back to before you.” He was fighting for breath and clinging to her.
“That’s why you’re here?”
He could feel Kara stiffen, but he kept holding on.
“So what is this—a primal grab for something that’s been taken away from you, Logan? Like a toy?” Kara unwrapped herself from his arms. “I’m past the point that this is interesting,” she continued and Logan knew he should have stayed away. The pain in her eyes was unbearable. “This isn’t a movie or a bad romance novel. I don’t let many people into my life, but when I do, it’s because I love and care about them. I love you, Logan. I’m sorry you don’t know what to do with that, but I don’t want to be some screw against the wall in the rain because you can’t find your normal. As sexy as you are, and as much as I do enjoy wrapping my legs around that body, I want Bill and Rosemary.”
He recognized the reference to the original owners of his house—their romance.
“Kara, what we had was great. Why can’t we—”
“I want roots and a life,” she said, “and I can’t have that if you won’t let me in. Let me see the parts of you that aren’t all shining armor. I can have Paris all the time, Logan. But not with you if everything is at arm’s length because you haven’t dealt with your stuff. So unless you’re here to tell me about you, to share the parts you are hiding with me, then just go, because I’ll find that life without you.”
“I’ve given you everything I have.” He pushed the wet hair off his forehead and tried one last time to get them back to where they were before she wanted more. “The thing is, when you left Paris, when I knew you had lied, that worked fine for me.”
“No it didn’t. You were hurt. We both were.”
“That’s the thing. I was never going to give you everything anyway.” He figured if he said it out loud, that would make it so. He was trying desperately to hide from his pain.
“I’m not an everything type of guy, Kara. Maybe you didn’t pick up on that in Paris because you wanted me to be some lovesick guy left behind, but that’s not who I am. I will always keep enough of myself for a full recovery.”
“Really? Then why are you here?”
Logan was not in physical pain. He would have given anything to simply forget her because this was madness. “I have no fucking idea. I shouldn’t have come by. The thing is, I’m not a long-term guy and I guess that’s what you need.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Logan laughed because there was nothing left to do. “Oh really, what a surprise.”
“I’m serious. Kenna put it perfectly: you’re nothing but roots. They’re all around you. You’re not exactly proving to be the stereotypical guy who doesn’t believe in commitment. I mean, you own two food processors, a vacuum, and your house has a porch. Look at your family, your father, there’s nothing temporary there.”
“That’s different.” He pushed back, feeling her prying again. The woman simply didn’t give up. Didn’t she know they were heading right back to the night she asked about his mother?
“You create all this security for everyone else. Who tucks you in, Logan?”
The question hit him in the chest. Why did any of this matter? He was a grown man; he didn’t need anyone to tuck him in for Christ’s sake.
“You’ve loved me, helped me find my own strength. Who does that for you? When you’re not fixing and helping everyone. When you fall apart, when you’re weak, who picks you up?”
“My father, my family, my friends, everyone at the restaurant. We hold each other up.”
“What about me?”
Logan took a deep breath. “You’re that too. I need you.”
“As long as I stay right here, right?” Kara asked holding her arms out in front of her. “When was the last time you were weak, Logan? You run everything. Anyone needs something and you’re right there. You kept your family together, gave Makenna purpose after she lost Adam. You are super son, super brother, and super chef. Hell, there’s nothing you can’t do. The farm needs you at four a.m. even though you closed at one the night before? You’re there.”
“That’s enough. You’re making me out to be some fucking martyr. It’s part of being in a family. We help each other. Not all of us come from . . .”
“From where Logan? Go ahead and say it. I know my family isn’t perfect. I’m not saying you don’t have a wonderful family. You do. I love them. It’s not them, it’s you. I’m not leaving you, I’m not running anymore, and you don’t know where to fit me in.”
She was relentless and he felt himself going down. She was in control and appeared to know it. He could feel the panic rising up the back of his neck.
“That’s it, isn’t it Logan? You can’t relax, count on me because God forbid if the indestructible Logan Rye ever needed me.”
Logan’s father had once taken him to a middleweight boxing match. He still remembered staring up wide-eyed at that tattooed man, eye swollen and blood dripping from his mouth as he hung on the ropes. On the way home he’d asked his father how a man could handle that much pain. His dad had ruffled his hair and said, “A man’s wired to fight his way off the ropes and then other times there’s nothing left to do but throw in the towel, son.” Logan was on the ropes. He couldn’t take anymore, so he took one last shot.
“You’ll never have to worry about me needing you, princess. I can take care of myself. Always have.”
“I know, and that’s the problem. It’s not enough. I don’t want someone who’s just going to take care of me. I want to take care of you. I want to hold you up, too. It’s not fair if you’re the only one who gets to be strong.”
“Well, then I’m sorry. This is who I am—how I was raised.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. I wonder if she knows the damage she’s caused.”
“Damage? There is no damage.”
“Oh, Logan. Of course there’s damage. We all have it.”
“Don’t climb in my head. I don’t need a therapist.”
“What is it you need, Logan?”
“Shit!” Logan threw in the towel and walked back out into the rain.
Chapter Thirty-Four
As soon as Logan slid into the booth at Libby’s on Wednesday morning and sat across from his dad, no Makenna, no Garrett, he knew what their meeting would be about.
“Not talking about it,” Logan said.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“You know, I’ve never said boo to you about how you conduct your business. Except I will say the music in those bathrooms at your restaurant is way too loud.”
Logan peered over his menu.
“Says who?”
“Says me. Can barely hear myself think in there and that’s what the damn bathroom is for. I’ve made some of my best decisions in the bathroom, so you might want to think about lowering it.”
Logan shook his head. “I’ll get right on that. Is that what this meeting is about?”
“No, I thought you might want to talk.”
Logan said nothing. Both men sipped their coffee and Libby took their order.
“I’m having a hard time finding my way back, that’s all. I’ll be fine, I just need some time.”
“What are you finding your way back from, son?”
Logan shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. He tried anyway. “My normal—where I was before . . . Christ, I don’t know. Nothing works anymore.” Logan watched his father fold the paper wrapper he’d taken off his napkin. He didn’t look up, so Logan went back to staring at his thick-rimmed coffee cup.
“Your girl’s not your mom.”
Their eyes met and Logan was sure the shock registered across his face. His father had always guided them, but he wasn’t big on advice when they were growing up. He believed they neede
d to figure things out for themselves.
“I know.” He was having a hard time breathing.
“You sure? Seems like you’re bent on going it alone. You’ve got to know that’s probably wrapped up in what your mom did to you. Women, they’re not all her, Lo. I want you to know that.”
The look in his father’s eyes was too intense. Logan needed out.
“Boy, how much Oprah do you watch?” he asked and felt the pressure ease when his dad laughed.
Libby delivered their pancakes and for a few minutes both men passed the syrup and talked about Logan’s new tomato plants.
“I’m serious,” his father said, pulling the conversation back. “Sure, relationships are scary, but if you do the work they work. You’ve got your whole life. You don’t want to be alone, Lo. You know when you were a kid, you used to hang out on the couch instead of your room like Garrett. You were a snuggler. You liked being around everyone.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t interrupt me. You’re not meant to go it alone, but you’re a little damaged. That’s okay, so is she.” His dad paused to take a sip of coffee. “You love her, she loves you. That doesn’t happen every day. She’s her own woman, smart. I like that. And her eyes are calm.”
“Dad,” Logan warned as his chest tightened.
“She’s a good one, Lo. That’s all I’m saying. It’d be a shame if you let her go.” He sipped his coffee.
“You finished?” Logan asked.
He nodded.
“I know she’s all of those things, but she wants things I’m not willing to give. Things were great, but now she’s pushing. She’s got a lot of this stuff with her family. She likes to talk and discuss things and I’m just not into that. I like to keep moving. I like to stay focused and with her, I lose sight of things. I start thinking.”
“Thinking about what? Marrying her, giving me another grandkid?”