Secrets and Lies

by N. C. Anderson

  The man on her left cleared his throat. “I'm Doctor Peter Logan,” he said then proceeded to introduce the other four Logans. Two dressed in brown and blue pinstriped suits, their silk ties in foulard patterns, the others wearing white coats with stethoscopes sticking out of their pockets.

  Selena decided she liked Doctor Peter. His voice was even, not condescending, and his smile reminded her of Logan's.

  Before she could respond to Peter's introductions, she cringed inwardly as a bellowed “What!” near her right arm, nearly broke her eardrums.

  Doctor Brian handed the papers to Doctor Peter. “Is this some sort of joke, Mrs. Flynn?” Doctor Brian asked, his tone milder, but his teeth seemed tightly clenched. “If it is, McRae Realty won't be in business very long."

  "Patrick Logan signed the offer this morning,” she said, yanking her contract sheets and a pen from her briefcase. “If you have a problem with it, you can always make a counter offer."

  Peter handed the papers to Doug who was next in line. “I believe it's a fair offer, Brian. I think that if Patrick wants Grandfather Logan's place that badly, we should let him have it."

  "Patrick has enough trouble keeping himself afloat without wasting his trust on worthless property."

  Peter stood up. “I've heard the clinic is in financial trouble, but it really has nothing to do with the trust."

  Doug handed the papers to Dennis. “I agree with Peter, let Patrick have it. He is old enough to handle his own finances. You could look at it this way, Brian, if his clinic folds, perhaps he'll change his mind and join the practice."

  Doctor Brian held up his hand to stop the discussion. “Mrs. Flynn, will you please wait outside until we've made a decision."

  He wasn't asking, and Selena knew it. “Certainly,” she responded, closing her briefcase and rising to her feet. She hurried down the hall then found herself a comfortable seat in the waiting alcove near the perfectly groomed secretary. Two men and three women also waited in the area, each, never looking up, each, thumbing through a magazine.

  The contemporary furniture in the area was aqua-blue. The carpet was aqua blue, thick, extravagant, and all the low, ornate tables in the room seemed crafted of heavy oak. Selena glanced at the various print paintings hanging on the walls. Each one was a beautiful landscape, each one bearing a number and a signature.

  She'd just decided there were enough assets in the one room to feed a nation when the Consultation Room door opened. As the six men walked toward her, Selena rose from her elegant, comfortable chair to stand in the middle of the room. Before she could blink, they had moved into a circle around her; making Selena feel as if she were a lab specimen they had come to examine before dissection.

  Brian held the papers in his hand, trying not to wad them up. “We have decided to accept this offer as it stands.” Brian didn't like making concessions, period. If he hadn't been outvoted and then convinced this was the way to get to Patrick, he would have torn the papers into strips and sent Mrs. Flynn packing.

  Selena took the papers. “You wish to go along with the seller paying all closing costs?"

  "We don't find any problems with the way this contract's written,” Doctor Peter said. “We've decided Patrick's offer is completely reasonable."

  Selena unclasped her briefcase and slipped the papers inside. “Then I'll take him the news and first thing tomorrow set the ball rolling.” She glanced at Brian, and could feel the mood of hostility surrounding him.

  Brian walked with her to the door, striving not to worry about the possibility she could invest in Patrick. But it didn't work. He couldn't let it happen. “I presume after this is over, we won't be seeing you anymore, Mrs. Flynn."

  "Does this mean I can't ask you for surgery?” Selena couldn't help it; she saw him as a tactless man, who respected things and status more than human beings.

  "This means, with regard to Patrick, nothing's changed in the past years.” He hesitated. “By the way, how is Daniel these days?"

  Nervous uncertainty evaporated from Selena like a drop of water on a hot skillet. Unfaithfulness wasn't a subject she took lightly, and since Daniel and this elder Logan had once been close buddies, he'd given her a little information about Doctor Brian Logan. Selena looked pointedly at his secretary-cum-hostess across the room, then she returned her gaze to Doctor Brian. “Since you and Daniel were once close friends, I'm surprised you didn't know he died seven months ago. And, how is your wife?"

  First his eyes widened, and he looked startled, then his body stiffened, his hands, balling into tight fists.

  "After Daniel married you, we lost touch. And, my wife is just fine, thank you,” he said politely. If this woman was a financial threat, he would know by this evening.

  His voice hadn't elevated, but his rigid tone raised the hair on the nap of her neck. “I know why you lost touch,” Selena muttered under her breath, resisting an urge to step back, holding her ground. Daniel had said Doctor Logan was once a warm-hearted man. The best friend a man could have, he'd said. It seemed impossible.

  "Well, it's good to hear your wife is well,” Selena said with equal politeness. “If you'll excuse me, I'll get back to my work and let you get back to yours."

  "That is a good idea.” He paused, still shaken by the news that Daniel had died. If it were someone other than Selena, he would question her about his friend's death. “You will remember what I said, won't you, Mrs. Flynn?” Though it went against his grain, Brian had to admit her nerve and quick mind were impressive—especially when she tried to reverse his strategy by referring to his wife. Obviously she and Daniel's relationship had been a close one.

  He watched Selena walk away. Trying to worry her just seemed to make her spine straighter, her jaw line firmer, and gave her the encouragement to stare him down longer. Just like the first time.

  Brian shook his head, wishing he could change his line of thought and his feelings. Saving people's lives was his business, not pressuring them. There was something different about Selena Flynn, about the way she carried herself, about the way she spoke, but it mattered not. He couldn't afford to have her anywhere near Patrick. He would have to try harder.

  * * * *

  Selena stepped outside without answering him. If anyone could ruin her mother's name and Realty business, the Logans could. Giving in to her frustrations wasn't something she allowed herself. All she could do was hope that her standing up to him didn't start a chain reaction that would destroy her mother's hard work to gain respect and make a decent living.

  She checked her watch as she slid onto her car seat. It was two forty-five, and with an hours’ drive, she'd arrive at the clinic at almost the time Logan demanded she be there. After seriously considering delaying herself an extra hour, she decided against it.

  Selena pulled into traffic and shoved her foot down, exerting adamant pressure on the gas pedal. The faster she closed the deal, the sooner she could stop thinking about the Logan clan.

  Chapter 3

  This just didn't seem like the sort of place any Logan could become comfortable with.

  Selena glanced down the street as she approached Logan's clinic. Tourists who drove through Valencia Cove, loved the two streets of businesses, primarily because antique stores, and thrift shops with less-ancient collectibles, lined the main street. Although the people who lived and worked here kept their town with dignified cleanliness, the buildings were vintage. The newness of the area college, and Valencia's police station, was the most outward sign that progress actually existed in the town.

  Placing her hand on one of the wide, double doors, she pushed down on the decorative brass handle. After swinging it open, she entered the wide foyer. The clinic building had at one time been a bank. Selena loved its gray masonry and carvings that dated it at least fifty years. Maybe Logan had decided on using the old bank building because patients could enter without climbing steps. It still seemed strange that a Logan would doctor anyone less prosperous than a white-collar worker with a ton of i
nsurance.

  Selena spotted the top of Ellie's head behind a long, ornate, mahogany counter, which had to be a residual from earlier banking days. She walked toward her, sidestepping the labyrinth of toys stretched out across a faded, but charming, oriental rug that covered once-elegant marble flooring.

  Ellie raised her head when Selena leaned against the counter. “Oh, good afternoon, Selena.” She pushed out of her chair and came to the counter. “Please, forgive all our clutter. The last patient went in to see the doctor a few minutes ago, and I haven't had time to clean our waiting room."

  Selena laughed. “It looks as if you run a baby sitting center."

  "Doesn't it really,” Ellie said, grabbing a file from somewhere behind the counter. “You come with me, and I'll get you ready to see Doctor."

  "I'm here to see Doctor Logan, all right, but I'll just wait on that couch over there.” She'd said he couldn't examine her, and she meant it.

  Selena had known Ellie all her life, mostly because Ellie was a good friend to her mother; nevertheless, she'd forgotten how persuasive she could be. “No, no,” Ellie insisted, taking Selena's hand and guiding her along a hall to a small room. On their way, Ellie grabbed an exam gown from a shelf in the hallway.

  Selena took one look inside and backed up. “I'm not going in there.” She could see a familiar cold-looking exam table, a metal footstool, a foot-controlled wastebasket, a sink, a rocking chair.

  Ellie patted her glossy, silver-streaked black hair and stared at Selena. She dropped the gown on the exam table. “Now, I'm absolutely sure if you don't want Doctor to look at you, he won't. You just relax and sit on the rocker while I go tell him you're here."

  Selena yawned. She ought to follow Ellie to wherever Logan had decided hide, however it would take more energy than she could arouse. After her morning walk on the property with Logan, after seeing the Logan six, and after an hour's drive to his clinic, her hip ached almost as badly as it had two months ago. All she wanted to do was to go home and sink into a hot bath. She eased onto the high-backed rocking chair, placed her briefcase on the floor, rocked slowly, and waited.

  * * * *

  After Logan escorted his last patient to the front desk, he hurried to the exam room to face Selena. Ellie didn't say Selena arrived with any battle scars, but she did say she was limping badly. And, that she was not in the best of moods.

  Logan pushed open the door slowly, expecting a tirade of anger from Selena. Instead, her eyes closed, breathing rhythmically, she was asleep.

  Pausing beside the rocking chair, he studied her exhausted features. Her long eyelashes were the same red-gold color of her hair. Her peach complexion seemed pale. He never should have sent her to his family alone. Especially since she still recuperated from an accident, still looked fragile compared to the Selena he'd dated long ago. The Selena who took on any kid in school who bad-mouthed her father or mother; the Selena who'd disturbed his dreams no matter how many years past, no matter how hard he worked to keep her from being there.

  Logan moved over beside the exam table, leaned his hip against it, and watched as Selena's dazed sienna eyes opened and stared at him. She blinked in confusion, but it didn't last long as recognition overcame her expression, along with the storm he'd been waiting for. Talking her out of the gauzy-soft skirt she wore, was going to be difficult.

  "I've brought you a signed offer,” she said grumpily. Even with her lips held firmly, her voice had the soft gravelly sound he remembered. Selena rose to her feet, swayed slightly, but righted herself before Logan could reach out to support her.

  She looked him square in the eye, her chin jutting forward stubbornly while lifting her briefcase from the floor and jiggling it at him. “If you'll lead me to your office, you can sign these papers, and I'll be out of here."

  Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “After I examine your hip, your leg, your back...."

  "I told you I didn't want an appointment,” she parried, clutching her briefcase in front of her as if it were a shield.

  "How badly do you want this sale?” Logan didn't like resorting to blackmail, but he intended to see the extent of damage done to her—one way or another. It had become important to him to support the people in Valencia Cove, to encourage keeping local money close to home. When his Aunt had asked who to list their estate with, he'd recommended Della. McRae Realty needed every sale, and Selena knew it.

  Selena moved a step closer, her chin higher. “This, Doctor Logan, sounds like bullying. You Logans are experts at it."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "As if you had no idea—” Selena's knee buckled halfway through her sentence, and Logan caught her arm before she crumpled to the floor.

  Logan lifted her high against him. He'd forgotten how slight she was, how he'd held her this way before, how good she smelled. “Now,” he said, placing her on the edge of the table, “I'll have a look at you."

  "Please don't, Logan,” she said, her large eyes swimming in tears. “Just leave me alone."

  "You're in pain, Selena. Maybe I can help you get rid of it.” He wanted to take her face between his hands and taste the tears on her cheeks.

  "Don't you think other doctors have tried?” She sniffed, and Logan gave her a tissue from a box beside the sink. “Well, they've tried, and they say the damage is permanent.” She lifted her shoulders resignedly, her tone low, serious. “Most of the time it's merely an ache I have no problem living with."

  "Then it's a good idea for me to look at you when you're well past a mere ache.” Logan gestured at the gown near her hand. “I'll leave you while you put on that gown. What have you got to lose, Selena?"

  She looked at him a long moment. “If I let you,” she whispered, “will you leave me alone?"

  How could he make such a promise and keep it? Selena came from another time, another world—a young world filled with high ambitions and dreams. “We'll see,” Logan said. After touching her, long-ago-other-times seemed more like minutes gone by, not years.

  He stepped outside her room and leaned against the wall, wondering if she could manage changing clothes alone. She seemed in a great deal of pain, and he'd probably added to it with the stress of dealing with his relatives.

  "Logan?"

  "Yeah, Selena, I'm right here.” He peered around the doorjamb. She rested on her side, holding her gown tightly together in back. She'd tried unsuccessfully to cover her slender thighs.

  "I don't understand,” she said, her tone sounding labored. “I haven't been this bad for months."

  He walked to her side, reached out, and gently tucked her red-gold curls behind her ear. “You've had a hard day.” The soft silk panties she wore seemed to frame the mosaic pattern of tiny scars he touched on her hip. Then Logan trailed his fingers over the purplish-colored jagged scar that traveled from three inches above her trochanter to mid-thigh. A small, less pronounced scar ran horizontally across her kneecap. Only an X ray would reveal the conditions of the bones underneath.

  Selena's muscles seemed to relax slightly as he massaged her leg from hip to ankle. She was watching him; her full, sweet lips no longer contorted with misery. He wondered if they tasted the same, if they could still make him forget who he was and what the rest of the world was doing. Living in the past would get him nowhere, and they needed to get reacquainted before exploring the possibilities of their present.

  "I have a hot pool in our therapy room. Since you didn't come prepared for a dip, and need to relax instead of exercise, you can wear the gown in the pool."

  Selena nodded her agreement as if too tired to care. “You'd best understand,” she mumbled, a frown marring her smooth forehead. “I may have let you examine the results of my injuries, but you are not my doctor."

  "Yes,” he agreed, and not one bit reluctantly. Logan had no desire to be Selena's doctor; however, his uncle Pete might just be her best bet. It always seemed easier for Logan to snag Pete's attention if he could give him some background on a patient.
“All I'm offering you is the use of our clinic's facilities. And since Ellie has been overseeing most of our therapy patients, she can give you the instructions.” Her frown cleared, so Logan ventured on. “Will you allow us to take X-rays to make certain we advise the right exercises?"

  "No,” she answered quickly. “I have two envelopes full of them at home. You can use those, or nothing."

  "Fine,” he said, shifting toward the door. “Bring them in when you come."

  Logan re-entered the room with towels under his arm. He lifted her from the table, expecting her to yell at him, but she said nothing. He carried her to the therapy room that contained bicycles, weights, walkers, exercise mats, treadmills and the custom-built four-foot deep, twelve-by-fifteen-foot long aerobics pool he and Ellie referred to as the hot pool. Logan carefully set her on her feet beside the pool.

  "This room is really something,” she said. “It's incredible.” Selena dipped a toe in the water. “Now that is warm."

  As she stretched out on her back, resting her shoulders on the specially designed ledge with armrests, Logan tried to ignore the way the wet gown molded to her full, rounded breasts and propped a water-proof pillow under her head, then turned on the jets.

  "Did you design this pool, Logan?"

  "I helped design it."

  "Humm,” she murmured sleepily. “You ought to market it. The hospital in San Diego had a nice pool, but this beats it."

  "My uncle and I are marketing it. So far it's doing all right in smaller clinics.” She nodded her head slightly, but she looked as if talking would take more energy than she had.

  Attempting to occupy his mind and body with something other than Selena's sweet body, while still keeping an eye on her, Logan climbed on one of the bicycles, set its gears on a strenuous level of force, and peddled. In twenty minutes he had ten miles racked up on his mileage counter, and what felt like a river of sweat poured down his spine and from his temples.

  She sat up straight on the ledge. “Where's Ellie?” Selena asked as if still half asleep.