by Joanna Sims
“I’m not going to let Brice ruin the only summer I’ve had off in years,” Josephine replied. “He apparently wants someone else. Me being angry won’t change that, will it?”
“Well, then I’ll be pissed off for the both of us.” Jordan scowled. “If he was here right now, I’d sock him right in his stupid aristocratic beak!”
* * *
Jordan ran interference for her with their mom while she escaped to the sanctuary of her third-floor bedroom. Once inside of her room, she went to the bathroom and closed that door, too. She needed as much of a barrier between her and the world as she could muster. She sat down on the edge of the claw-footed tub and just sat there, staring at a hairline crack in the porcelain pedestal sink. It was strange—she didn’t really feel angry or sad or jealous. There was a burning in her stomach and a burning behind her eyes, but she didn’t need to cry.
Was she in shock? Was that it? Or had she known, at some primordial level, that he had recently lost interest in her?
“That’s more like it...” she said aloud.
And who was this woman who had taken her spot at Brice’s side?
Not seeing any sense in speculating about the picture when she could just call him and ask, Josephine left the bathroom, turned on her phone, and sat down at the desk. His cell phone went straight to voicemail; his secretary took a message. So, she called his private office number. She never called that number, respecting Brice’s wishes that she would only use it if there were an emergency. This qualified, in her opinion.
“Hello?” He sounded good. Happy.
“It’s me, Brice.”
There was a long pause, followed by a chair squeak. Josephine imagined him spinning his chair around so the back of his chair was facing the people who were undoubtedly sitting on the other side of his desk.
“Josie...”
She hated it when he called her that. He was the only one who did.
“Are you okay?”
The burning in her stomach became hotter, more intense. “I’m fine.”
Another pause, then he said. “I’m in the middle of something here. Let me call you back in a bit.”
“Oh, sure.” It was work to keep her tone light. “But, before you go, I just wanted to tell you how handsome you looked in your tuxedo last night.”
She was being snarky and sarcastic and it felt...great.
The chair squeaked again and she heard Brice say to whomever was in his office, “I need to take this call. Let me catch up with you in fifteen.”
Brice waited a second or two before he said, “I was afraid this was going to happen. I wanted to wait until you got back to tell you about Caroline.”
“I think you should tell me now.”
Caroline Santiago, he explained, had recently joined the firm. She was an environmental lawyer who was working on the same case. Meetings turned into lunches, which turned into dinners, and dinners turned into interest on both of their parts. But Caroline refused to date him because she knew he was involved. So, Brice decided to become uninvolved with her.
“Do you...love her?” She couldn’t believe how rapidly her heart was beating. It was pumping hard like she had just sprinted for a quarter mile.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Maybe? Maybe? The first flush of anger broke through the numbness.
“You haven’t been sleeping with the both of us, have you? I think I have the right to know if I need to make an appointment with my doctor for an STD screen.”
“No. God. No, Josie. You know me better than that. We haven’t slept together...”
There was an unspoken “yet” at the end of his sentence. They both knew it, and she couldn’t allow herself to ignore it.
“You know...” she said much more calmly than she felt inside. “I’ve known you for five years, Brice. Five years. And, for the first time in all of those years, the only thing I can think to say to you is ‘goodbye.’”
“Josephine...I didn’t plan this. Lightning struck. But, I always want to be able to count you as one of my friends.”
“Goodbye, Brice.”
* * *
“Hey, Mom, how’s it going?” Josephine emerged from her room as night was falling.
“Hi, sweetheart. Everyone missed you at dinner.” Barb was sitting in the study, opening a new stack of RSVPs. “Did you get all of your studying done?”
She actually had gotten quite a bit of studying done. She had always had the ability to concentrate in a crisis. “It put a dent in it, at least. Where is everybody?”
“They’re all out at the campfire toasting marshmallows and smoking your father’s cigars.” Her mom picked up her reading glasses and slipped them on.
“You aren’t supposed to know about the cigars.”
Her mom looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “I’ve been married to your father for four decades, sweetie. There isn’t anything that man does that I don’t know about. But when you’re married, sometimes you just have to let the other person breathe. Even if it means that the breathing they’re doing includes cigar smoke.”
Josephine laughed before she asked, “Do you need help?”
“No, honey, I’ve got this all under control. Why don’t you go out there and show those boys how a real pro toasts marshmallows?”
Josephine strolled along the gravel drive that led to the permanent fire pit. All of her life, and as far back as she could remember, her family had gathered around a campfire. More than anything, she had looked forward to spending time with Brice and her family by the bonfire. But that just wasn’t meant to be. He didn’t love her anymore. He didn’t want her anymore. And she had spent the last several hours trying to adjust to a new normal. Brice had been her first love—her first lover—and she had believed that he was her future. It was difficult to be so wrong.
“Hey! Sissy!” Tyler shouted from across the fire. “Where the heck have you been?”
“Studying.” She smiled at the sight of her family gathered at the fire.
Josephine sat down on one of the tree stumps that her father had fashioned into rustic chairs years ago. Her sister handed her a roasting stick and the bag of marshmallows; she carefully put two large marshmallows on to the end of the stick before she picked the perfect spot above the fire to start browning them.
“Mine always catch on fire,” Logan told her.
“It takes patience.” She slowly turned the stick as one side of the marshmallows began to turn golden brown and bubble.
“Here.” Josephine extended the two perfectly cooked marshmallows out to Logan.
“You sure?”
She nodded. Logan pulled the gooey, hot marshmallows off the stick and popped them into his mouth. She watched his face and waited.
“Mmm.” He smiled at her. “The best I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
“Well, don’t get too impressed. This is the only thing I know how to cook.”
There was a moment, when she was cooking marshmallows to share with Logan and listening to Tyler strum the guitar, that she did feel normal. Perhaps most people wouldn’t like the smell of campfire and cigar smoke, but for her, it represented home. She enjoyed hearing her sister and Ian talk about their wedding and their business plans and the remodeling of their downtown San Diego penthouse. She enjoyed hearing her father and Tyler discuss the day-to-day operations of the ranch. They talked and she listened. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Josephine set the agenda for the next topic: the chapel.
“Have you heard back from your uncle?” she asked Logan.
Logan, who was pouring some water from his bottle onto his fingers to wash off the sticky residue left by the marshmallows, nodded his head.
“I filled Hank in before you got here,” he said.
“So...” she as
ked expectantly. “What’s the verdict? Can it be moved?”
Hank stubbed out his cigar and held the unsmoked part of the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “We can move it by rigging it up and hauling it down. But we’re going to have to rustle up the right equipment and that’s gonna take some time.”
“Don’t you think that you should at least get another opinion, Dad? No offense, Logan.”
“When people want a second opinion, they go to Logan’s uncle,” Ian said. “If someone wants an expert opinion right off the bat, they go to Logan’s uncle. He’s the gold standard when it comes to moving old structures. If he says that it can be done, then it can be done.”
Everyone around the campfire was quite for a moment, contemplating Ian’s words. Then her father spoke.
“I believe Logan wouldn’t lead us astray on this. You’ve seen the chapel—you’ve seen the terrain. What do you think, son? Can the chapel be moved or should we just scrap the idea?”
Josephine couldn’t stop herself from frowning. It was an immediate, unavoidable response.
Son?
She quickly looked between Logan and her father. Her father was a cautious man. He didn’t just embrace people wholeheartedly without their proving their worth, and he certainly didn’t trust them with decisions about the ranch on a whim. Hank had only met Logan yesterday and he’d already taken him into his confidence and was calling him son?
What the heck?
“It can be done,” Logan responded. “It’s going to cost a pretty penny, but it can be done.”
“Money’s not a problem,” Hank told Logan. “But, I think we are going to need your help to get the job done.”
“Uh...wow! Are you really going to do it, Dad?” Jordan asked.
“If Logan’s willing to take time away from his vacation, this might just be the best time to finally get it done.” This was her father’s answer.
“I’ve got no problem helping out,” Logan said. “I’m used to working. I need to keep busy.”
“Then, let’s get it done.” Tyler strummed a couple of chords on his guitar. “You know I’m in.”
As the campfire died down, the conversation also ebbed. The events of the last two days with Brice, and the effort it took to pretend like nothing was wrong, suddenly made her feel bone tired. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.
“Well, family, I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” She stood up.
After kissing her father on the cheek and saying good-night to everyone, Josephine headed back to the house. She was a short distance from the fire pit when she heard Jordan call her name. She slowed down and waited for her twin to catch up to her, and then once they were out of earshot of the rest of the family, Jordan said, “I’ve been worried about you. How are you holding up?”
“I actually feel pretty numb right now.” Josephine crossed her arms in front of her body. “It’s not the end of the world, right? It just seems like it is.”
“Did you talk to Brice?”
“Sure did.”
“I figured you would. Was he straight with you, or did he try to weasel out of it?”
Josephine stopped walking, and Jordan did, as well. They stood together in a shadowy stretch of the driveway, where the light of the fire and the lights of the house didn’t reach. Under the wide, blue-black, starless sky, Josephine tried to think of a way to quickly recap her conversation with Brice, but couldn’t.
“Do you mind if...” She started the sentence and Jordan finished it.
“...we talk about it tomorrow?”
In the dark, Josephine nodded.
Her twin hugged her. “We don’t have to talk about it at all, if you don’t want to, Jo. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Josephine returned the hug, glad for her sister’s support.
After the hug ended, she said to her sister, “I’ll tell everyone tomorrow—there’s no sense waiting anymore. I’m sure they’ll all be happy to hear it.”
“No one’s going to happy that you’re in pain, Jo.”
Josephine breathed in deeply and then let it out quickly. “No. You’re right. I know you’re right. Good night.”
“Okay, get some rest,” Jordan agreed. “But, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Jordan headed back to the fire and her fiancé, while she returned to the farmhouse. She had almost reached to porch steps when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the gravel. Someone was running toward her in the dark.
“Hey, Josephine!” Logan jogged toward her. “Hold up!”
The only thing she wanted to do at the exact moment was to go to bed. She needed to wash her face, brush her teeth, get into her comfy pajamas, crawl under the covers, and be left alone. And, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to make a clean getaway.
“I was just talking to your dad and Tyler about the cave and they said that you are the resident spelunker.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she said as she stepped onto the first porch step—one step closer to her bed.
“I’m going to head up to the cave tomorrow before plans to move the chapel get under way.” Logan had followed her onto the first step. “And I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me.”
The first word that came to mind was “no.” And it was also the first word that tried to pop out of her mouth. But she refused to speak the word. She needed to resist the urge to retreat and force herself to forge ahead.
“What time?” she asked.
“Seven?” He seemed surprised that she said yes. That made two of them.
“Seven’s good,” she agreed. “If I don’t see you in the kitchen, I’ll meet you at the gate.”
Chapter Six
The next morning, Logan greeted her at the fence and they made their way back up the mountain. She wanted to be quiet on the hike—she felt like she needed it. Normally, she would ignore her needs in favor of her companion’s needs, but she felt comfortable enough with Logan to speak her truth. He didn’t ask her why; he just respected her wishes and only spoke when she spoke first. At the fork in the road, they traveled to the right in order to reach the cave.
“It looks like it’s trying to rain,” Josephine noted. The sky was a muddy gray and there were heavy storm clouds gathering in the distance.
Logan surveyed the sky. “We should get back before it starts. I’ve got a couple of ponchos just in case.”
After that brief exchange, Josephine turned inward again. She had awakened feeling odd. She wasn’t sad—she didn’t feel angry. She felt—out of sorts. Her head ached, all of her joints burned for no apparent reason. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes were tender from crying herself to sleep. This was her first real breakup with a man she still loved, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to work through that.
Twenty more minutes along the winding mountain path, and then Josephine pointed straight ahead.
“There’s the entrance, right there in that rock face.”
Logan had been happy to be spending a second morning hiking with Josephine. He knew he was in permanent friend zone, no-man’s-land, but he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t enjoy the company of a beautiful, intelligent woman when crossing the line was already off the table. He liked her as a person, and during their second hike together, the silences between them weren’t uncomfortable at all.
“I’ve gotta confess, I’ve been thinking about this place ever since you told me about it,” he replied. He’d had this cave on the brain since yesterday. The idea of being able to visit an archaeological site intrigued him. He was about to enter a place where prehistoric man, and woman, had made their homes.
“I don’t blame you. It’s an amazing place. I remember when a crew from National Geographic arrived to photograph our cave. I was c
onvinced that we were famous.”
Logan noticed that she smiled, just a little, for the first time that day. He sensed that something was bothering her—there was a change in her from their trip to the chapel—but he didn’t know her well enough to inquire. The best he could do was to respect her wish to hike in relative silence.
“Is that a lock?” he asked, concerned.
Josephine pulled her key chain out of her front pocket, held up an old brass key. “I never took the key off my key chain.”
Long fingers of tall, dried weeds brushed against the bare skin of her legs as she forged a path to the small opening of the cave. She knelt down in front of the cave entrance, which was secured with a heavy door made from thick steel bars. To her, it had always resembled a jail cell for gnomes. She slipped the key into the rusted lock and tried to turn it.
“I think it’s too rusted to open.” Josephine twisted the key back and forth. “It’s not opening.”
Logan slipped his backpack off his shoulders, dropped it on the ground, and joined her. He knelt down beside her and studied the lock.
“Careful—if you don’t handle it gently, the key will snap in two.”
He was close to her—closer than he’d ever been before. His golden-brown skin was hot and sweaty from their hike, and there was something appealing about his natural scent. Her senses were stimulated in a completely unexpected way. She had always liked the way Brice smelled after he had applied cologne, but she couldn’t really remember physically responding to the scent of his skin.
“Do you want to give it a try?”
She stood up and stepped back to give him room. Logan, she noticed, was a focused worker. All of his attention was aimed at coaxing the lock open. For a man with such developed arms—truly spectacular arms—he seemed to have a very light touch with his hands.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“We’re close.” He kept his eyes on the lock.
Then she heard a small click and when Logan smiled at her triumphantly, she knew that he had managed to finagle the lock open.
“Bingo,” he said. The key chain was handed to her so Logan could twist the lock free of the gate.