Secrets and Lies

by N. C. Anderson

  "You mean Daniel Flynn paid for it."

  "I guess that depends on how you view it. Selena worked hard getting the education Daniel wanted her to have, running his house, then taking care of him through his illness.” Della hesitated, her eyes glittering with anger. “Because of Selena, I learned the real estate business and pulled myself out of the poverty-pit. I'm disappointed in you, Patrick Logan. If you had the slightest knowledge about my daughter, you could never have thought she ran out on me."

  Logan pushed to his feet. “Why did she marry a man forty-years older than herself? No woman would do that unless she was fortune hunting."

  Della opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, stood up, and marched to her front doorway. She turned and glared at Logan. “I won't listen to you insult my daughter, Patrick. The person to answer your question is Selena. If you really care about her, and in the last few minutes I have come to doubt that, you'll ask her."

  "Della."

  "Yes, Patrick?"

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, or Selena. I'm just trying to find some answers.” Della couldn't help being partial, yet everything she'd said fit in place with the Selena he'd dated. However, people change. Why else had she married Flynn? Like Della said, if he wanted answers, he'd have to find them in Selena.

  Della nudged open the door and stepped inside, her eyes suddenly sad. “Be careful, Patrick, or you'll lose her,” she said, her expression transforming, closed, blocking him out, leaving him not much less confused than when he arrived.

  * * * *

  That afternoon Logan called the varsity team off the field. “You guys are looking really good for the game tonight. I know the boys from the Clovis team have weight on you, but I think you've got them when it comes to speed and endurance."

  "You gonna coach for us tonight, Doctor Logan?” one of them asked, and they all seemed to ignite, speaking at once.

  He blew a short blast on his whistle. “The only thing that'll keep me away is an emergency,” Logan told them. He wanted to be in on their first game. “Now, hit the showers and get some rest."

  All of them took off at a trot, except one—Gregg. He was sitting on the bench, watching Logan. “Is something wrong, Mr. Flynn?"

  "I want to resign from the team, Doctor Logan."

  The request didn't make any sense. Besides being a natural player, the kid loved football. “This team needs you, Mr. Flynn. Why would you want to let them down?"

  Gregg yanked the helmet from his head. “My name is Gregg, Doctor Logan.” He ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Why did you assign me to the second-string team?"

  "Why do you think I did, Gregg?"

  "I realize you don't like me, Sir. I believe we have a conflict of interest where my mother is concerned."

  Logan sat alongside him. “This isn't a social club, Gregg. How I feel about you, or don't feel, has nothing to do with assigning you to the second string. I don't work that way.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “We have two freshmen who qualified for the varsity team, and you're one of them. Right now we have enough seniors to fill the first string.” He glanced at Gregg to see if he was getting through to him. The kid was listening. “Let me ask a hypothetical question. If you were a senior, would you want a freshman playing your position while you sat on the bench?"

  Gregg's eyes widened with interest, and he shook his head. “No, Sir. I wouldn't like that at all."

  "This isn't a pro team, Gregg. We see to it the seniors play whether they are the star players or not.” Logan had known of schools where they didn't play by that rule. They won games, took titles, and boys suffered. Valencia Cove High's parents and teachers emphasized education, and a sportsmanship-like competition that coaches didn't dare stray from. “If you're certain you want to resign, you'll have to see Coach Evans. He ought to be in his office until five.” Logan rose to his feet. “I still contend you'll be letting the team down. We need a healthy second team if a first stringer should become injured."

  Gregg stood up, his helmet dangling from his fingers. “I'll stick for a while longer,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Sir."

  Logan extended his hand. “What do you say we agree never to bring our personal disputes onto the football field?"

  Gregg's smile was slow as the serious intensity seemed to leave his eyes, and replaced with a new excitement.

  "You've got a deal, Sir.” His handshake was firm as he endorsed Logan's bargain.

  "Then hit the showers, Mister,” Logan ordered lightly, and watched Gregg jog toward the school. The kid was strong, intelligent, and gutsy. Selena had done an excellent job raising him. And, to his surprise, much of the resentfulness he'd been feeling towards Gregg had disappeared with their brief, honest exchange.

  * * * *

  An hour later Logan managed to snag his father as he prepared to go into surgery. He couldn't enter the scrub room, but Logan could see him beyond the glass door and converse with him over the intercom system. “I want to discuss a few problems with you, Dad. Now."

  "What is it, Patrick? You can see I don't have time for a long discussion.” The familiar anxiety Brian felt each time he thought about Patrick and Selena, coursed through him. If Selena poured money into the clinic, Patrick would never take his rightful place in the business.

  Logan had waited so long he wasn't certain whether he wanted to discuss Selena, or Telly and the clinic investors. He opted for Selena. Telly could come later. “Why are you worried about Selena wanting money? Daniel Flynn would have left her well off."

  Brian laughed from behind the mask a scrub nurse was tying securely to the back of his head. “I doubt whether Flynn left her enough to send that kid of theirs through college."

  "Where did you get information like that?” His father always seemed to find out everything, one way or another, and Logan wanted answers.

  "One phone call to Flynn's daughter told me all I needed to know. Would you like her phone number?” As the nurse carefully shoved sterile glove onto his hands, he continued. “Maybe Mrs. Flynn still has the ten thousand dollars I gave her sixteen years ago.” That should back Patrick up several paces.

  "What?"

  "You heard me. Then she met and married Daniel Flynn. I don't suppose she had any reason to spend it after that."

  "Why would you offer her money?” Logan asked, realizing what his mother must have found in the checkbooks. Was this the harassment Selena had referred to?

  "I made the offer to keep her away from you. She was so anxious, she nearly snatched the check out of my hand before I had it written. Stay away from her, Patrick. Selena Flynn was born money hungry.” He stepped to the surgery entrance, eager to leave Logan appearing more confused than ever.

  Logan shoved a hand through his hair in aggravation. Maybe that was why Selena didn't argue much the night he told her he wouldn't be seeing her anymore. No. No, Selena was never like that. They had dated for three months, and the only gift she ever accepted from him was the roses he'd brought to her one evening. Logan found it impossible to imagine she took the money. However, it would explain his mother's comments about the checkbook.

  His father had dodged him long enough. “You want me to not to see her? Then you'd better make time to speak to me."

  Brian hesitated then nodded. “Where will you be this evening?"

  "At the high school football game."

  "I'll find you there,” Brian said as he disappeared behind the swinging doors.

  * * * *

  I can't believe my own mother would do this to me, Selena thought as she guided her car up Logan's drive way. Twenty minutes ago she'd thought she had finished for the day. Then her mother had rushed in with an offer for Logan's property.

  "You must present this to him,” she'd said. “I have another appointment, and if we don't hurry, we'll both miss the football game."

  So here she was, right where she didn't want to be. After parking the car, Selena stepped out, slammed the door, and jo
gged up broad, redbrick steps to the front veranda of his home. Logan would probably think she was chasing him. She shifted her briefcase to her left hand and raised her fist to knock on the wide, hand-carved door. It would be a cold day in hel—"Good evening, Logan,” Selena said, startled when the door swung abruptly open. “My mother called to let you know I was coming. I hope I'm not disturbing you, but this offer can't wait.” She was rattling on, but she couldn't help it.

  "Are you planning on hitting me, or presenting an offer?"

  She dropped her poised hand, and he motioned her through the doorway. “Sorry,” she said politely. “I didn't realize you were standing right behind the door.” Selena tried not to glance at him, but he'd just come from a shower, his black hair still wet, his cologne, drawing her like a magnet. “I realize you're busy, Logan. If we can just get this taken care of, I can be out of your hair in ten minutes."

  He shut the door then led her across thick blue-gray carpet to a large, walnut dining room table. “Take it easy, Selena,” he advised, his voice low, mesmerizing. He pulled out a chair for her. “We're both in a hurry for the same reason."

  She sat on the designated chair, unclasped her briefcase then stared at him, drawing a blank.

  "A football game, remember?” He slid onto the seat and took the papers from her hand.

  She'd forgotten he had to coach more than just the boys’ practices. “Yes,” she said, mentally shaking herself. She had to keep her mind on business and off his broad shoulders, lean hips, fascinating mouth. “I wouldn't want to disappoint Gregg by being late. And I'm certain the boys are counting on you to be there."

  He nodded as his eyes scanned the offer. “This offer is twenty-five thousand short."

  "I know, but you can counter it if you want to,” she informed him unnecessarily. None of this was new to him; however, her nerves felt wired, and she couldn't do anything about it.

  He sat back, tipping his chair on two legs. “I want full price, Selena. You and I both know I listed it under appraised value."

  She extracted a blank form from her briefcase. “Then we'll write it that way.” After she finished writing, she handed it to him. “Is this the way you want it?"

  "That's it,” he agreed, handing it back.

  She could feel him watching her as she snapped the lid on her briefcase and stood up. “Then I'm out of here. Do you want to see a counter from these people?"

  "No,” he said, bringing his chair back to all fours and raising to his feet. “If they want it, they'll pay the list price."

  He couldn't let her escape until she answered the questions that were eating away at him. Selena was almost to the front entrance when Logan grabbed her arm, turning her around. “Years ago,” he said, pulling her to him, studying her through half-closed eyes. “My father offered you a great deal of money. Did you take it, Selena?"

  Astonishment drained the blood from her cheeks. For the first time, Selena realized Logan knew absolutely nothing about what happened between her and his father. Someone was telling him now, but from the somberness in his eyes, that someone distorted the truth.

  "No,” she told him, “I didn't.” Selena wanted to be the one who told him everything. Before she could do that, she wanted him to understand she loved him; she wanted him to trust her, and stop hunting for proof of her honesty—proof of every damned thing she said.

  "What happened to the money, Selena?"

  "Your father handed me a check, and I tore it up and handed it back.” An inch more and she'd be touching his chest. She tried to withdraw, but he wouldn't let her. Selena waited for him to ask why his father had offered her the money. He didn't. Instead, Logan flattened her palms on his chest, gently kissed her cheek, her lips then stepped back.

  "Thank you, Selena."

  She shuddered, wanting to nestle closer to him, wanting him to kiss her again. “For what?"

  He shrugged, loosely. “The truth.” He believed every word.

  Logan was looking at her warmly, hungrily, with a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and Selena struggled to think straight. “You believe me?"

  Then he spoke the three words she craved to hear, “I believe you."

  Logan considered asking more questions, taking her into his arms again, but forced himself into a change of mind. They needed a whole lot of time, and a whole lot of privacy. He gestured at her briefcase. “If you don't get going, you're going to miss the football game.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “And, so am I."

  Selena clutched her briefcase to her chest, and ran to her car. They would discuss their feelings again soon. They would touch again soon. Just believing that would keep her going.

  Chapter 10

  When Selena arrived at the football field, a slight chill pleasantly enhanced the evening air. The opposing teams were already crashing through their huge paper banners, and the announcer was calling off their names and positions. After each name, the cheerleaders leaped and clapped and a roar of young voices vibrated the air. It took five minutes of thoroughly scanning the seating in front of the fifty-yard line before she finally spotted her mother and hurried to join her.

  "I didn't think I would ever get here,” she panted, tossing her thickly padded seat cushion on the metal bench. “But Logan's counter offer is signed and ready for him to look at.” Thinking about him sent a familiar wanton surge of hunger through her belly. She wanted the football game over; she wanted to find him.

  Karlene Logan was sitting beside Della. Astonished and bewildered, Selena sat down hesitantly. Their being together shouldn't be such a surprise, Selena thought. Two mornings ago they'd held a perfectly compatible meeting, made two changes in the contract Karlene and Rebecca had presented, and had become partners. The way her mother and Karlene seemed to get along still confused Selena. They behaved as though they must have been the best of friends for years.

  Della smiled. “I asked Karlene to join us, Selena. After all, we're partners now.” She laughed. “This is a truly different way to celebrate."

  "I'm really glad she did, though,” Karlene said. “Patrick is helping to coach the team, and I love watching the boys play football.” She tugged on the hem of her bright-yellow sweatshirt then brushed her hand across her dark green slacks. “Do you think I dressed appropriately?"

  "Yes,” Selena answered carefully, maintaining her wariness of the apparent rapport between her mother and Karlene. And she found it hard to believe a woman of fashion could sound unsure of herself. “You look perfect."

  "The only problem is, I don't see Patrick anywhere."

  For the third time since she arrived at the field, Selena inspected the Cove's sidelines for his familiar broad shoulders. “You're right, Mrs. Logan. I don't see him either.” If she hadn't promised Gregg she would watch the game, she would be out looking for Logan. Seeing him, listening to him, touching him, was almost all she could think about after leaving him earlier. She waved at a man selling popcorn; realizing she'd even forgotten to eat dinner.

  "That clinic of his has more than its share of emergencies,” Karlene said thoughtfully. “I can't think of anything else important enough to keep him away."

  "Well,” Della said, nodding at Selena to get her some popcorn, too. “If he doesn't make it, you'll just have to tell him what he missed."

  Karlene laughed. “I hope you can explain it to me as it happens. It's been something like eight years since I watched Patrick play in college."

  As Selena opened her mouth to say they'd be glad to help her understand the game, five men from the local American Legion marched onto the field with the colors, and the band broke into the National Anthem. Then the competing teams lined up, and the kickoff prompted the crowd into an ear-splitting high-pitched roar. Selena gave up trying to communicate with either woman over the din, and munched her popcorn, her eyes wandering, searching for Logan.

  After the first play in the second quarter, one of Gregg's teammates needed two coaches to help him off the field as he hopped on
one leg. Gregg ran onto the field, and Selena held her breath. It seemed easier to watch when she didn't feel related to any of the players. It was always the same. Every time she saw someone tackle Gregg, or otherwise knock him around, Selena tensed up like an over-wound clock.

  "Your son is terrific, isn't he?” Karlene said. “He runs like the wind."

  "He loves the game,” Della said. “Though my daughter seems to suffer the most from his bruises."

  "I can't help it,” Selena said as Gregg sprinted out for a pass. “You'd think it would get easier."

  "I understand exactly what you mean,” Karlene sympathized. “I felt the same way watching Patrick."

  "Where is my son?” a gruff, unfriendly voice asked.

  Startled, Selena stared at the hand gripping her arm, then up into Doctor Brian's grim expression. “I don't know,” she told him, pushing his hand away and looking over her shoulder at the game.

  Gregg grabbed the ball out of the air, stumbled, regained his balance, and ran head on into the massive bulk of a defender. The impact knocked his helmet from his head, unbalanced his opponent, and they both fell to the ground as if they were hit by a poleax.

  Selena leaped to her feet, gasping, as four more players fell onto the twist of bodies. “Oh, God,” she groaned; glad Gregg couldn't hear the distressing noises coming from her throat.

  Della stood up next to her. “Easy, Selena, they're all starting to move."

  They all did move, except one—Gregg. He lay flat on his back. The coaches were sprinting across the field, and Selena's heart thumped wildly.

  Selena seized her tote-sized purse from under the bench. “He's hurt.” She attempted to leave, but Brian's hand stopped her.

  "You're not going anywhere, young woman, until you tell me where my son is,” Brian said, his grip restraining Selena.