by Avery Duncan
“Did you spit on this?” she asked, thinking to all the private times her father and her had teased each other over sandwiches. She’d been a teen the last time someone had handed her one, when she wasn’t the one making it.
He looked at her surprised. “What?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, putting down the piece of bread. The sandwhich had two layers of meat, tomatoes, lettuce, mustard, mayo, and...pepperoni?
Logan must have noticed her look because his lips lifted and he said, “Just try it. My mother always put pepperoni on our sandwiches. We would come out out here all of the time, to this tree, and mess around. Summer and fall wa akways my favorite time to come out here with her.” He paused, and Claire dared not to talk, fearful that if she spoke, he would stop.
His eyes turned soft.
“Red leaves would fall to the ground, the grass would be dried up and a nice cream color. It almost matched the color of her hair,” he said quietly, reaching out and running his hand over the lively green grass. “She would sit with us and play with us. She did everything.”
He fell silent, not looking at her.
To make things easier on him, she spoke quietly. “My father and I…”
She stopped. She probably shouldn’t talk about him in front of Logan, but the urge to do so was almost overwhelming. She wanted to be able to confide in this strong, capable man that seemed as if nothing could break him.
Their eyes caught and held. “Keep going,” he coaxed, their food forgotten. They sat across each other, the sun shining around them, the air silent except for the soft buzz of nature.
“We always went to this place out near the Black Hills. It was just a small cabin, nothing too grand, but we had the best time. Horse ridding through the mountains, fishing for gold in the river… Those were some of the only times that we actually got to know each other. He’s too busy to take that time away from work now,” she said sadly, “but we still get time together… Well not recently, anyways, but…yeah.”
Logan gazed at her for a moment and then said, “What does he do that keeps him so busy?”
Claire smiled briefly. “He’s into politics.”
“He must be away a lot then?”
“Yeah, he is. But I know he thinks of me so it isn’t as bad as some families have it when their father is always AWOL,” she said, chuckling. Claire knew she was lucky to have the family she did, to be treated the way she was. Before all of this crap with one of her father’s competitors, she’d never had a bad step in her life. She took a bite of her sandwich.
And yet, she’d never had a man other than her father in her life…
She looked at Logan.
He took a bite of his sandwich, returning her stare. Once he was done chewing, he asked, “How long are you here till?”
Claire could have stayed for the rest of her life. Not just because she wanted to, but because since she was basically a dead person, she had no real obligations to go anywhere. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I would love to go home someday. But until then, I guess I just plan…on wandering.”
“Why can’t you go home?” he asked, a new light entering his eyes.
Nervous, Claire put her sandwich down and played with her fingers. “It’s just not a good time.” And it probably never would be. Unless something happened to her father’s competitor, she would always live in fear. Even if her father won, he would come after Claire for revenge. She’d realized that last night, after a very dark dream. Just winning the election wouldn’t make her safe. His death would make her safe, but she wouldn’t have a human life on her conscious, even if that’s what it took for her to have a normal life.
Her stomach turned.
“But I thought you and your father got along,” he said, his voice more reserved, eyes less open.
She hated the change, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t explain and she couldn’t risk her already waning security.
“We do. Just…things have happened. And it’s time that I learn to live in the real world,” she said, more to herself than him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shook her head, not replying. She finished the rest of the sandwich by forcing herself to. Her appetite was gone and she didn’t think there was a way to get it back. Not with the suspicious look in his eye, or the turn her thoughts had taken.
“Claire,” Logan said, voice deep. She realized dimly how much she enjoyed the sound of his voice, especially when he was saying her name. She looked at him from under her lashes, wipping her mouth with a napkin.
“Hmm.”
“I don’t…understand you,” he said gruffly, looking like he hated himself for the admission.
She smiled softly. “I don’t understand myself either. Just a couple of weeks ago, I had a perfectly normal life, and now? I’m here, on a picnic, with you. A cowboy with temper issues who might have multiple-personality-disorder.”
He frowned. “I do not have multiple-personality-disorder.”
She laughed. “I beg to differ! One moment you're some Casanova, and the next you're as cold as ice. I swear, we should name your other personality Mr. Hard-ass.”
“I take offense to that,” he said, trying to keep a mean edge to his voice. He failed at it, though, and started laughing with her.
“Casanova doesn’t, just Mr. Hard-ass.”
“Where does Logan fit into this?” he asked, a glint in his eye.
She sobered somewhat. “I don’t know. I’ve only met two of you, not the third one.
“We’ll have to change that,” he said, smiling. He took out two plates from the basket that was set up near the tree, then a serving fork. Handing her a slice of cake, he got out a fork as well and put a second piece on the other plate.
She dug her fork into the spungy piece of cake and took a bite. Her eyes closed with happiness as flavor burst in her mouth. “Mmm...”
Her eyes opened to see Logan staring at her like he was a wolf and she was a piece of steak. Her cheeks heated. She would never get used to being looked at like that, she thought. The way her stomach fluttered, her own desire for him... She took another bite, this time not as open with her pleasure.
“It’s great,” she said -- more like muttered.
“Yeah, it is...” For some reason, by the way he said that, she thought he wasn’t talking about the cake. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet.
With her cheeks flushed, she tried to finish the cake and found she couldn’t. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.
“Claire,” he said, voice taking on a deep edge.
“Hmm?” She peeked at him and took another bite.
“I don’t want you to think that I sleep with every woman I see. Because I don’t.”
Claire looked at him with wide eyes. “Logan...”
“No, I’m dead serious right now. My first wife screwed me over,” he said bitterly. “After that, I never even looked at a woman. Madison is just a schoolgirl with a rich daddy and a crush. Whatever she told you was not true, and I don’t want you thinking it is.”
“Why...” She cleared her throat. “Why does it matter what I think?”
He ran a hand through his short-cut hair, looking as confused as she felt. “Hell if I know. But I don’t want you thinking whatever she told you is true.”
“I think I knew that she was lying,” she commented quietly. In the distance, their horses neighed and hit at the ground with their hoofs. “She had an empty look in her eyes...and her outfit was really outdated,” she said, letting a little of her jealousy of the woman seeth into her voice.
He raised a brow. “And you would know?”
“Well, yeah. I wore it last year for one of my father’s parties...”
“Very cultured, aren’t you?” he asked, a shield coming over his face.
Realizing she might have said the wrong thing, she backtracked. “No, no, it was just an important thing and he wanted me to look my best so he...”
“It’s fine, Claire.” His voice didn’t make it seem fine though.
She looked at him, at a loss for words.
Then her shoulders dropped. She set down the half-way finished piece of cake and got to her feet, picking up the plates.
“What are you doing?”
She set them in the basket and didn’t meet his eyes. “I think it’s time we go back now.”
He was silent, then helped her pack the basket.
Minutes later, she was on Berry’s back and urging her into a smooth gallop, away from Logan.
Chapter 7
The next week went slow. She avoided Logan and he avoided her. If they were left in a room together, she was normally the first one to leave it. Glenda, she’d come to realize, was the sweetest woman ever--and probably one of the best cooks around.
The first night that Glenda had made her dinner, she had refused to come down, under the notion that it was just Claire and Logan in the house.
Glenda, though, had quickly reined her in. She had a small Spanish accent, but her build was short and round, hair white as a cloud, and skin as wrinkled as a prune. But she had kind eyes and a pretty smile, and, Claire realized, the only one that Logan actually listened too.
Claire still denied their invitation to dinner. She had a feeling that it was more Glenda asking her to eat with them than Logan. In fact, if she had to bet on it, she’d say he didn’t want her to eat with them.
Whatever she’d said on their picnic in the field had put out whatever flame he’d been feeling for her. And, as weary as she was about men and Logan in general, she didn’t want to make it worse. So she stayed away from him, and he didn’t seem to mind.
Madison came over several times, and unlike first time, Logan didn’t kick her out. Sometimes, after Glenda brought up her dinner, Claire could hear Madison’s high-pitched laugh. It brought an ache to her chest that Logan would turn to Madison after coldly shutting off Claire, but she didn’t have a say in it, and wouldn’t.
So desperate to avoid the hurt that she felt whenever she saw Logan, another week later, it had been three days since she’d seen him. Instead of snooping around the ranch and doing what she really wanted, she didn’t leave her room. Not to eat, not to help Glenda clean, not to do anything. She was grateful that the bedroom had a connecting bathroom.
To the left of the bed, which was set against the center of the wall with a large, elegant headboard, was open and breezy. She kept it like that for the full two weeks that she closed herself in. At least with the window open she could hear the sounds of the ranch and get some sort of fresh air. She’d taken to waking up, showering, and then spending the next hour leaning over the edge, just relaxing and listening to the sounds.
Maybe she stayed there for so long because she hoped to see Logan, or at least hear him. One morning, she’d woken up to him shouting to get a hold of a bull that had gotten loose. At the end of it, she’d heard him laugh and had realized that...she couldn’t not have some way of hearing him or seeing him. His lack of presence in her life was painful.
Two weeks.
Of nothing.
Of staying in her room, her own fears overcoming her and turning into paranoia.
Of solitude and a dull ache in her chest whenever she heard Madison’s all too happy laugh whenever she showed up.
And one week of anxiety pills.
It was Saturday now. She’d asked Glenda earlier to lend her a laptop so she could check the banking account her cousin had set up for her. He’d loaded it.
That meant, to her, that it was time to leave.
She had no reason to stay here anyways. She was only getting more attached to Logan through her pain and unease. She shouldn’t have stayed there in the first place. Now that Madison was so clearly in his life, she had no reason. None at all.
She got to packing.
Around mid-afternoon, Glenda came to get the laptop. She knocked on the door and when Claire didn’t answer, pushed her way in.
“Claire?” she called into the rooms softly. The lights were on, the windows were open, and the bathroom door was against the wall. She went over to it and stopped at what she saw.
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“Daddy said that we should be getting in three more bulls in the next week. And they are from this rancher in...”
Logan listened to Madison’s voice with disinterest, almost annoyance. For the past two weeks, she’d come to his ranch every day at the same hour, and didn’t leave till she dinner was over. Her father had called him the night that he’d thrown her out of his house, asking him to be more gentle with his daughter.
The man adored her, but he had no backbone. And when you were dealing with Logan, the only thing you could hope for was that you didn’t get a black eye in the process.
He tolerated Madison, but only until Claire could stop overreacting and actually show her face to him.
Right now, they were in the drawing room. It was Madison’s favorite place to talk to him at and he really didn’t care either way. If he had a say in this, he wouldn’t be talking to her at all. Maybe talking to Claire, or Frank. Or even his dog. But not Madison.
Today she was wearing a Pink sweatsuit, and her pale blonde hair was pulled back sharply from her face. She had on the most sparkly boots ever and she could have been the Poster Child for “fake”.
His phone started to ring, and he took that godsend of a distraction and left the room, Madison mid-sentence.
“Marshal.”
“I’m calling from the Drake’s Pharmacy, we just wanted to let you, Logan Marshall, know that the prescription your ordered is up-to-date and can be picked up...” The automated voice droned on about the prescription and he almost groaned out loud. Not a distraction he had been hoping for.
Then the home phone started ringing.
He hung up his cell and went to the kitchen, where the homephone was docked. He picked it up and heard what he’d just listened to on his cellphone. He was just about to hang up the phone when he heard, “...let you, Claire Brady, know that...”
Logan pressed the phone to his ear, listening.
Then, without conscious thought, he put the receiver down and left Madison in the drawing room. In just a couple of minutes, he was in his pick-up and going into town, to Drake’s Pharmacy.
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“Claire? Claire, what is wrong? Why are you packing?”
She heard Glenda’s voice, but couldn’t react. She sat there, in the corner of the bathroom, her face buried in her hands which were pressed against her drawn knees. Her breathing was labored, pained. Ragged sounds of...sobbing, were coming from her chest.
Claire didn’t know what was happening. Her mind was blurry, her eyes glazed over. All she could feel was rushing adrenaline and pain. Her stomach was churning and she felt as if every muscle she had was strung tight, about to snap. Her teeth were chattering because she was shaking so badly.
Cool hands pushed her hair back. Gentle hands, small. Claire flinched away from them.
“Claire... Just breathe. Calm down, breathe,” she coached softly. The hands left her face and she heard the running of water. Then cool liquid, on her face. Soft, fluffy material. She took a jagged breath.
“Look at me.” Glenda’s voice was demanding, yet gently so. She took a firm hold on Claire’s shoulders, with one of her hands cupping her cheek. Her tear stained cheek.
“I’m going to get Logan, okay? We can take you to the hospital and see what’s wrong...”
“No!” she nearly shouted, pushing Glenda away from her. “Get out. Just get out, please. I can’t...I won’t...I can’t go there. I can’t. Get out,” she sobbed, shoving the woman away from her.
Weak.
She was so weak.
She’d known this was going to happen. She had felt the panic building in her chest. Every single laugh of Madison’s, every single zero that she’d seen in the bank ac
count...it all had come crashing down on her. Her father had warned her, her aunt had warned her. No matter what it took, get the pills and take them. Going to a hospital was more revealing than someone ordering medicine.
Instead of reassuring Claire that she wouldn’t take her to the hospital, Glenda knelt beside her. Smoothed her hair back. “I have to get Logan. Come lay down.” She started to pick Claire up, urging her to her feet.
“Not Logan. I don’t want Logan. Don’t let him see me,” she begged, her body shaking so badly that she couldn’t get to her feet. She curled herself into the corner that she had been in before, letting the shudders wrack her body. Panic, almost to the point that it was hysteria, swirled around inside her like a tornado, reeking destruction.
“I’ll be back. Stay here, Claire, don’t worry, it will be alright...”
Glenda rushed from the room.
In minutes, she came back.
And standing behind her was Logan.
Her body started to shake. She felt like she was shattering from the inside out and there was nothing she could do about it. She tried not to look at him. Tears built in her eyes; she was ashamed that he’d gotten to see her like this.
The cold, unfeeling emotion in his eyes suddenly wavered, and was replaced by worry and fear.
“Claire? What happened?”
She couldn’t tell him that she’d neglected getting a refill for her prescription because she had wanted to avoid him so badly. She didn’t even want to tell him why she had to have pills. But she figured he would figure it out.
He was just smart like that.
Panic swelled in her chest. “Get out. God, why can’t you leave me alone?” Her shrill question bounced off the walls of the bathroom, then was swallowed by the sounds of her sobs. There was nothing she could have done to stop this.
Besides take her pills.
Just then, she noticed something.
Her eyes latched onto Logan, then his hand...he was holding a white paper bag. There was a familiar scrap of paper dangling from it. Her body shuddered.