Taste: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “Whoa! Where did the marriage thing come from?”

  His father seemed like a little kid with a secret.

  “I never said I wanted to marry her.”

  “Don’t have to. It’s clear as day every time you’re around her.”

  Logan shook his head and wondered how the hell a man looked when he wanted to marry a woman. Did his dad make this shit up? Or maybe it was Oprah again. Tomorrow on our show, Five Ways a Man Looks When He Wants to Get Married.

  “Back to what I was saying—I understand what you’re saying, but I’ve got to call bullshit when I see it. Those are only excuses for you to keep yourself safe. That’s not you, Lo. You drink up life, always have, but your mom messed you up. Whether you want to see it or not, that’s what this is about. It’s time you moved on.”

  Logan was pretty sure this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with his father that didn’t involve produce.

  “Okay, I’ll consider what you’re saying. Still doesn’t mean things with Kara and me are ever going to work, Dad. I appreciate the—”

  “The girl fed the pigs for Christ’s sake. When she came out for that interview thing. Fed the pigs, yes she did. She’s a keeper.”

  “Dad, that was a novelty. She’s writing an article. The jeans she wore that day were probably hundreds of dollars.”

  “Oh, don’t do that. She’s not about all of that. Besides, my jeans are pretty pricey these days too. Kenna’s turned me on to these Levi’s 606 jeans. You heard of them?” his father asked, lifting up from the booth like he was going to show his tag.

  Logan shook his head, again shocked.

  “Well, they’re vintage according to Kenna. I love ’em because they’re made like jeans used to be made in the sixties and they’re made in this country. That’s important too, but the damn things cost me almost two hundred a pair.”

  Logan laughed. “You pay two hundred dollars for your jeans?”

  “Have to. Seems that’s what good stuff costs these days. It’s not just food, Lo. Kenna’s forever telling me to be responsible, pay attention.” His father smiled.

  “Good kids, all three of you. I got lucky.” He looked up, eyes a little glassy, and Logan’s chest squeezed again.

  “Has nothing to do with luck, Dad. It’s hard work and sticking around.”

  “So do the work then, raise your own family.”

  “I can’t.” Logan barely recognized his own voice. “I have this family. This works and I’m not willing to risk something—”

  “Lo, we’re all grown up now. All of us,” his father said, looking right at him. “Love’s all about risk. You don’t get a guarantee, there’s no contract, and sometimes you get stepped on. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try. Kind of like that running of the bulls thing you sent me when you were in Spain. Those people get in there and let the thing chase them because it’s a rush. Son, that’s what we live for. It’ll break my damn heart if you keep yourself all knotted up in there.”

  Logan didn’t know what to say. Libby cleared their plates and left the check on the same flowered metal tray. He felt like paying the check and getting the hell out or changing the subject back to something that made sense. Chickens, his salsa recipe, anything but this.

  “I’m sorry your mom couldn’t be, what’s that Oprah says, ‘the best version of herself.’ She was just not cut out to be a mom.”

  Logan ran his hand over his face. He was so damn tired. “You know, I’ve heard that phrase before, that she wasn’t cut out, and it seems like such a simple explanation for a terribly complicated thing. A mother doesn’t leave her children, Dad. I don’t care how hard it is or whether or not she’s cut out for something. That’s a bullshit excuse.”

  “It is. I won’t argue with you, but a person can’t do something they can’t do either. What if she’d stayed? I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and I’m pretty convinced she did us a favor.”

  Logan glanced up again in surprise.

  “You didn’t know her. I mean sure you knew her as your mom, but I knew her and she was a mess, Lo.”

  Logan felt the tears and put his palms to his eyes, as if he could somehow push them back in. His father reached across the table and took his hand.

  “You did great, Lo. We made it and now it’s time to let yourself be loved. She won’t let you down, I can almost guarantee it.”

  Logan laughed. “Oh really?”

  “She fed the pigs, Lo, and loved it. That’s gold.” His father slid the check over and took some bills from his money clip.

  Logan let him pay; there was no sense arguing. They walked out of Libby’s and the sun was trying to shine past the clouds that had been threatening rain since last night. Logan felt lighter. Maybe he’d been waiting for someone to tell him they were in the clear—that they’d made it. He would probably never understand, but he knew when his father said they were better off, even great, that something shifted. Maybe he had been taking care of everyone else. He loved them and trusted them above all else, but now according to his father, it was time. Time for him to go beg the sexiest pig feeder in the world to forgive him.

  Logan walked his dad to his truck. His father pulled him into a hug.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Thank you, son. I love you.” Then, his father did something he hadn’t done since Logan graduated from college—he kissed his forehead. His father turned from him, a little glassy-eyed, and Logan knew this would be the very last time they spoke of this. They would put his mother, his father’s wife, back where she belonged and move on. Logan watched his father drive past and wave, and not for the first time, he felt fortunate. Life wasn’t always fair, but he lucked out in the father department.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kara spent the morning reorganizing her closet and cleaning out her refrigerator. She even ran her usual route twice earlier that morning as the sun was rising. Lately, she found that two loops were the minimum to set her straight. She stopped by the farmers market on her way home, and now, putting her new produce in clean refrigerator drawers lined with fresh paper towels, Kara felt fine. Jason Mraz was strumming his guitar and asking her to live high, live righteously as Kara closed her refrigerator and hopped in the shower.

  It was actually a little heady now that she knew who she wanted to be, she thought as the warm spray hit her face. She’d told her mother she would commit to campaigns going forward, but other than holidays, she would not be available for fundraisers or whatever other events Stanley managed to dig up. Her mother was put out at first, but eventually acquiesced. Kara was learning to be selfish with her time and even though she was pretty sure her heart would hurt for some time, she was moving toward happy. That was enough for now.

  She got out of the shower, dried her hair, and started making lunch. She was cooking more now and managed to get Makenna to sneak her a few bottles of olive oil from the monks. Kara couldn’t erase Logan, or the things he’d brought to her life, completely. She didn’t want to. He was part of her and that didn’t change simply because they couldn’t make it work. She knew she would eat at The Yard again someday, and eventually seeing him would hurt less and less. Kara had just finished chopping zucchini and making her tea when her phone vibrated across the counter.

  “Hi, honey. How are things?” Olivia asked.

  “Things are good,” Kara replied, tilting her head to hold the phone while she rinsed her hands from the zucchini.

  “Perfect, listen I just got off the phone with Harold and I guess Logan Rye added some equipment to his yard at the house. From what we are hearing, it’s pretty special and I was hoping since you handled the original stories so beautifully you wouldn’t mind finishing this up for me?”

  “Olivia, what’s this about?”

  Olivia did her dramatic sigh. “Help me out here, Kara. I’ve got a date tonight with Jeremy, otherwise I’d do it myself.”

  “Oh”—Kara smiled into the phone—“you two are dating?”

  �
�Yeah, that’s old news. Where have you been? Oh, that’s right, you left me. We are dating and my God, let me tell you the man can—”

  “So things didn’t work out with the therapist?” Kara asked, cutting her off before Olivia made another comment that made taking photographs sound obscene.

  “That was never going to work. He never shut up,” Olivia said and Kara could picture her on the other end of the phone, feet propped on her desk with her head thrown back laughing at herself.

  “Enough about amazing Jeremy. We’ll pay you freelance to handle this last one. Believe me, honey, you’re going to want to cover this.”

  Olivia knew something, but she was never going to tell Kara, so there was no point in asking. She’d just have to head to Logan’s house and find out for herself. She was fine with that, might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.

  “Okay, I’ll go over tomorrow and get you something in the next few days.” Kara prepared to hang up.

  “Oh no, honey. This needs to happen right now. Harold, my boss, in case you’ve forgotten who he is, wants you down there like in the next couple of hours.”

  Kara sighed. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  “Good girl,” Olivia patronized. “Oh and you might want to put on the Jimmy Choos, maybe a trench coat. Yes, did I ever tell you about the time—”

  “Good-bye, Olivia.” Kara cut her off.

  Logan was on his porch when Kara arrived a few hours later. She hadn’t seen him sitting in the corner, but she heard his voice right before she knocked on the front door.

  “After she left, we ate pizza every night for . . . it must have been two months. I turned eight that summer. I was watching something on TV after school one day and they were talking about how dinner—a meal—brings a family together.”

  Kara froze. She was afraid if she moved he would stop talking.

  “As clear as I can remember, that’s when I started cooking. I mean, I was only a kid, but I started giving my dad lists on loose-leaf paper. He thought it was just a phase I was going through. I started with frozen dinners and vegetables. I made canned soup and sandwiches. Kenna would set the table. I remember her insisting that the paper napkins be folded corner to corner and not in half. It was fancier that way, she would say. She was so damn cute. Pigtails and missing teeth. God, we were so young.” Logan smiled and Kara’s heart ached for all of them.

  “Did you think it would bring her back?” Kara asked carefully and sat next to him on the porch swing.

  “Easy, princess. I’m new at this delving into my feelings shit.”

  She laughed.

  “I think I may have at first, but it was really about making sure we were all okay without her. You know?”

  Kara nodded and let him continue.

  “I could never get my head around it as a kid. I don’t even get it now. My dad was out on the farm and she left during harvest. He was working eighteen-hour days. We were all at school. I remember because Jenny Nathan had cupcakes for her birthday. I got the frosting all down the front of my shirt and the school called home. No one answered. I didn’t care at the time, just wiped my hands on it and went on with my day, but I was seven. Makenna was five. She had half-day kindergarten and no one picked her up. She sat in the office until two when Garrett and I got out. We all walked home together.” Logan’s eyes started to fill and Kara thought she might die.

  “Shit.” He quickly wiped his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually said this out loud.” He took a deep breath, turned to Kara and she willed herself to not let one shred of pity cross her face.

  “Anyway, we walked home that day and the next day Dad told us she was gone. I guess she left a note.”

  Kara couldn’t keep her tears back. They spilled down her cheeks. “What kind of person does that?”

  Logan shook his head. “It’s been the four of us ever since. We each took on a role whether we knew we were doing it or not. Kenna has always managed the money, well not when she was five, but by the time she hit junior high, she was telling us how much money we had, when we needed to cut back, which coupons I needed to use at the grocery store.”

  “What was Garrett’s job?” Kara asked, so happy that he was talking and letting some of this out.

  “Garrett has always been man number two of the house. He’s the protector, fighter when necessary; he worked the farm with Dad while I went to school. He learned to speak Spanish in high school and at night courses after that, so he could manage a lot of our guys. Now, he pretty much runs the whole thing. He’s a pain in the ass. You think I’m bad? He’s an emotional misfit.”

  Kara laughed.

  “And then there’s you,” she said softly.

  Logan nodded. “And then there’s me. The wife and mother.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’m sure Oprah would say I’m the caregiver. I made sure forms were signed, that we ate, and that Garrett didn’t wear the same underwear every day of the week.” Logan looked at her. “This is where we all do the collective sigh and say, ‘Oh, that poor family.’”

  Kara shook her head, not quite sure she could speak. “I don’t think so. It seems like you’ve done fine without her. I mean you had to grow up pretty quickly, pick up some slack, but everyone has shit. Yours actually doesn’t seem that bad.” She smiled.

  “Oh really?” The look on Logan’s face softened and he seemed so grateful for the break in what Kara was sure was painful. She loved him for telling her.

  “Yes, really. I mean, sure you had some ‘stuff’ to deal with, I guess”—she rolled her eyes—“but I spent most of my childhood in junior assembly, cotillions, and ruffles. Lots of ruffles. I think it’s time for us to return to poor Kara Malendar, misfit to US Senator Patrick Malendar, gorgeous brother Grady, and lest we not forget, perpetually perfect and disappointed Bindi, mother extraordinaire.”

  They both laughed as she stood and did a very deep curtsy. He pulled her into his lap and used his thumbs to wipe her tears.

  “I’m so sorry. Nothing works without you, so here I go.” Logan held her face. Kara could feel his heart beating against hers. He let out an uneven breath and his eyes welled again. “I love you. Come on in, take whatever you want, it’s all yours anyway. Just please don’t let go.”

  Kara kissed him, softly as if her lips could somehow caress away his hurt. She’d never known this kind of love. Sure it was romantic and she loved every inch of his body, but there was a need to protect and care for him that she didn’t recognize. She’d only recently discovered how to love herself, but she would need to make room for this too because her love for Logan was lie-down-on-the-tracks, take-a-bullet kind of love. He was the very best person with the most tender heart, and here he was handing it over to her. There were no words for what was coursing through her, so she just kept kissing him.

  Logan pulled back. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

  “It does.”

  “Just like that, princess? This feels too easy.”

  “Too easy?” She laughed. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Really?” He stood up and pulled her into his arms. “Well, then we should get you to bed. Exhaustion is one of those things that you need to take care of right away.”

  Kara smiled and kissed his neck. “Do you know a lot about exhaustion, farm boy?”

  “You have no idea. I believe in working very hard.”

  She laughed. “Wow, you and lines. It’s a talent.” She buried her face in his neck.

  He backed through the door of his bedroom and she knew she had been fooling herself. When a man moves over a woman’s body the way Logan did, it was near impossible to stand in a room with him and pretend to be friendly. He loved her until she was once again panting his name, and then he made her a bologna sandwich with Miracle Whip, and they started all over again.

  Kara woke up the next morning in Logan’s bed, but without Logan. She sat up with that startled sense she was supposed to be somewhere. What day was it? Sunday, it was Sunda
y. She lay back down and closed her eyes, remembering him and wanting more. She got up and put on one of his T-shirts. The house was quiet as she walked into the living room. God, she loved this house. She smelled the coffee and again wondered how she could love the smell of coffee so much, but not enjoy drinking it. She checked the kitchen—still no Logan. In the center of his small round dining table off the kitchen was a beautiful teapot. It seemed hand painted. Next to it was a delicate matching teacup. Kara lifted the lid of the pot and found hot tea. She closed her eyes. Thank you, tea gods. She poured a cup and stirred in one sugar with a dainty teaspoon she’d never seen.

  She was starting to wonder if Logan had to go into the restaurant, when she noticed large dirt footprints. It was as if someone had tracked mud from where she was standing, out to the backyard. Maybe a pipe broke or something was wrong in his garden. Kara pushed through the back screen door.

  She found him. He was sitting on the last swing of a three-swing, swing set. Coffee in hand, legs crossed in front of him. He smiled at her and Kara almost dropped the lovely teacup.

  He said nothing, so she walked down the steps of his deck and took the swing next to him. She propped her feet out in front of her as she sipped her tea.

  “New swing set?”

  “Yup.”

  “I like it.” Kara looked straight ahead, wondering what was going on, but at the same time enjoying the simplicity of sitting on a swing set with him. She reached out to one of the support pipes. “Feels pretty sturdy.”

  “Had them cemented in.” Logan sipped his coffee.

  Kara looked at him. “Pretty permanent.”

  “Yup, this sucker’s not going anywhere.”

  Kara’s heart began pounding in her chest. She finished her tea and set the teacup in the sand to the side of them. She was afraid to get up, afraid to change anything.

  Logan dropped his cup too and held his hand out for hers. When she gave it to him, he pushed off gently and they were swinging. The morning air was crisp and Kara could feel goose bumps on her bare legs. The sun was beginning to fill the sky and the birds in the magnolia tree were now awake.