Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  “Oliver can stay here,” she said quickly. “Of course. Tell him to come.”

  Braden turned and whispered to the bushes, “I told you she’d offer.”

  Carrie squinted and leaned forward to see around the edge of her porch. She spotted a tall, stooped-shouldered man moving out of the shadows.

  “I’m sorry, Carrie,” Oliver said softly. “I never thought they’d bother you, or I wouldn’t have asked. I can find somewhere else to sleep. It’s not that much longer before the situation is resolved, so maybe I’ll just start walking home.”

  Braden spoke before she could. “Greg said he can’t leave yet. Not until morning. Greg hoped you’d keep him safe until then.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Come inside, Oliver.”

  Braden backed off the porch. “Thanks, Carrie.” Then he trotted for home.

  Oliver shuffled forward. He held a pillow and blanket she recognized from the Trentons. “I can sleep on the floor wherever. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise. I know you have a full house already.”

  She gave a tired smile and opened the door. “No worries. We have plenty of floors to choose from.”

  Once inside, it was even harder to see Oliver. She didn’t know if Oliver was used to the pitch black like she was. Still, she didn’t grab a candle. It was too much work and her body felt numb.

  “We’re sleeping in the family room by the fire,” she whispered. “All of us are in there, including Jeff’s boys, but there’s plenty of room.” Although her large house seemed to shrink around them.

  “No. I’ll sleep right here.”

  “It’s a lot colder out here in the living room.” Her body gave a small shiver on cue.

  “I don’t mind, really. I just…” Oliver paused. “Thanks for letting me stay, Carrie.”

  Her eyes filled, and her insides started to shake again. “It’s small payback for…” She stopped to swallow. “For all you’ve done for us—for me. What you’re going to do for Jeff tomorrow. Thank you for driving him to the border.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad to help.”

  He always was.

  It was silent a moment before he asked, “Are you alright? Greg said Jeff hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.” At least physically. She was alive. Zach, CJ, and Greg were alive, too, which was more than she could say for Jenna.

  She looked up at Oliver’s dark form, unable to make out anything but his outline. “What’s going on with your job? Why would patrolmen follow you?” Suddenly she remembered interrupting the heavy conversation between him and Greg at the wedding.

  “It’s just a temporary problem. It should be cleared up by morning.”

  She waited for him to say more. Her tired mind swirled with possibilities, but when he spoke again, it wasn’t about his job.

  “I’m sorry about Jenna, Carrie. So very sorry.”

  Her emotions swelled. “Me, too,” she whispered. Immensely sorry about Jenna. And Jeff. And their little boys. Even with Greg’s verdict, their future was bleak. The two boys would be parentless for some time—possibly forever if Jeff wasn’t lucky traveling like Greg and Mariah had been. And through it all, she couldn’t help but think what she’d been thinking all night:

  It was her fault.

  It didn’t matter what Jeff said now. She knew it was her fault. All of it.

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her nose started to run. She pursed her lips to keep her emotions in check. If she started to cry now, she’d never stop.

  “I also need to say something,” Oliver said. “And this is probably the worst time to say it, but I might not get a chance again, and I have to say it while we’re in the dark so I can’t see your face and you can’t see mine.” He took a quick breath. “It’s easier when I can’t see you.”

  Her heart sped up. His shadow fidgeted with his uniform. He wanted to talk about them, about their relationship. Right now. When her emotions were ready to erupt.

  “Greg’s a good guy,” Oliver said. “A really good guy, and I’m sorry I thought otherwise because now I see him for who he is and what he can do for you. And if you and he ever…I mean, if you ever wanted to, um…”

  Date Greg.

  That’s what he couldn’t spit out.

  Oliver was giving them his blessing. He was giving her permission to love Greg. To choose Greg.

  Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was the dark. Maybe it was the long, emotional day, or knowing Oliver was about to sleep at her house. Or maybe it was realizing how fragile life was, and how friends could slip through your fingers in the blink of an eye, but it had to be said.

  “So are you, Oliver. You’re a great guy and an amazing person.” She reached out and found his hand. It was cold but strong, and she squeezed it tightly. “I am so, so lucky to know you. Your friendship means the world to me, and I hope that, no matter what happens in the future, we will always be friends.”

  Her emotions were too raw to say more. In another second, she would fling herself into his arms, desperate to have someone hold her and tell her it would be okay. Earlier, when the shaking wouldn’t stop, Greg wrapped his arms around her and the boys and held them together until Terrell and the others found them. She longed for Greg’s arms again—or anyone’s—to hold her together. It didn’t matter whose. Or maybe it did matter, but it would push her over the edge to think about Greg and everything he’d done for her. And Zach.

  Or how close she’d come to losing him.

  Then she realized whose arms she truly craved: her dad’s. He would have squeezed her until it stopped hurting. He would have stroked her hair and made promises of a better future—promises he couldn’t keep but would have soothed her soul. But Oliver wasn’t her dad. She dropped his hand before she did something that crossed the boundaries of their friendship—in her mind as well as his.

  “I should check on the boys,” she whispered. “Goodnight, Oliver.”

  Heading down the hallway, she slipped around the blanket and into the warm family room. She checked on the two boys while her thoughts stayed on two others. It took a long time of staring at the red embers before she drifted to sleep.

  By the time she woke up, Oliver was gone.

  fifty-two

  THE SMALL CLAN STOOD around Jenna’s fresh grave. Though the men had buried Jenna the morning after her death, the clan waited a few days for things to settle before they held the funeral.

  Carrie’s eyes wandered down the line of mounds, first to Richard’s wife and then to her parents. Jenna’s grave made number seven in their own private cemetery on the edge of the neighborhood.

  CJ insisted on officiating since Jeff had already left for North Dakota. Though CJ was doing a little better, standing still caused him migraines, so they kept the funeral short. Really, no one wanted to be there longer than necessary. Carrie most especially.

  Little Jeffrey and Jonah stood next to Sasha and Dylan Green, their new guardians. That hurt the worst. Jeff requested for them to take care of his boys until he returned. Sasha had always wanted kids of her own, plus Jeff was convinced Carrie hated him after what he’d done. She didn’t, but he’d already decided. A sharp pain stabbed her heart as she watched Little Jeffrey and Jonah.

  Those were her boys.

  Greg caught her gaze like he’d tried to several times before. And like before, she couldn’t hold it. She clasped her unsteady hands in front of her and studied the newest mound of dirt.

  She should have said something about Jenna, but the second CJ finished, she broke free of the emotional group and started home. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She couldn’t even console anyone. She just wanted to get home and back to life.

  Greg moved through the group toward her. She knew he wanted to talk. They hadn’t spoken much since finding the two boys at Jenna’s. Greg had been too busy saving everyone. First Jeff, giving him advice on how to survive the long trek. Then Oliver, saving him from his coworkers—Richard had finally explained everything to her. But thin
king about what Greg had done for Zach and her, what he’d been willing to do, put her beyond words. She owed Greg her life. She always would. But she couldn’t talk to him. Not now.

  She pretended not to notice him and sped up. She should have headed straight to the garden to prep it. It was well past planting day now. More days were warm than cold, and there was a pile of work that needed to be done before anyone could plant. It was her job to get the field ready, yet she headed straight for the privacy of her own backyard and the basket of laundry waiting for her.

  She picked up Zach’s dirty red shirt, and for some reason, that put her over the edge. The emotions engulfed her.

  Zach. Jeff. Greg. Jenna.

  She closed her burning eyes, knowing she had to stop doing this, stop reliving everything.

  Dropping Zach’s shirt into the basket, she sat on the grass, hugged her knees, and studied a flock of geese scattered across the surface of Logan Pond. They fought and scuttled around as her thoughts drifted.

  Would Jenna’s boys remember their mom? Probably not. They were too young. How far had Jeff traveled? Would he come back for his boys?

  Would it ever get easier to say goodbye to those she loved?

  Could she ever forgive herself for what happened?

  What almost happened?

  “What’s the weather?” someone called.

  Carrie didn’t jump. She didn’t even flinch. She should have known Greg would come. There was no stopping him when he wanted to talk.

  “I don’t know.” Hugging her knees, she went back to watching the squawking geese.

  “I’d say it’s a seven,” he said, coming down around the side of her house.

  She shot him a strange look. That’s what she would have called it. It was a beautiful day in stark contrast to the heavy funeral.

  He walked around her pile of laundry and sat next to her on the grass.

  “You didn’t try the new well yet, did you?” he asked.

  She glanced behind her. As far as she could tell, Greg stayed up all last night to finish her well. She was so excited to try it out this morning—to get her mind on anything else—she had gathered all their laundry and traipsed outside first thing. Only once outside, she lost the strength to work. The pile sat right where she’d dropped it.

  “No. Not yet,” she said.

  “Good. Don’t. It’s pure mud down there. It’ll take a while for the dirt to settle.”

  She wasn’t sure if he meant her well or the clan.

  Probably both.

  “I still can’t believe you finished it,” she said. “How late were you here?”

  He shrugged. “It felt good to get back to work. Work clears my head.”

  Normally she felt the same, but she hadn’t been able to muster the energy to scrub their sheets. Life seemed too painful for such a mundane task.

  For a time, the two sat and watched the fighting geese on the pond as the wind blew softly around them. Already her backyard was a mass of weeds and unkempt blades that, by summer, wouldn’t even resemble grass anymore. In the middle of it all were the starts of trees that had sprouted over the years, making her backyard look like a mini-jungle. It kind of felt like her life. A wild mess growing out of control, no one to keep it in check, no one to care for it when she couldn’t.

  He nudged her. “How are you doin’? Honestly?”

  She shrugged, thinking about Sasha and the boys, Jenna and the baby, CJ, Mariah, and everything. She had to stop this depression, this heaviness, and thoughts revolving solely around herself. She wasn’t the only one hurting.

  Glancing sideways, she inspected the gash over Greg’s eyebrow. It wasn’t swollen anymore, but he still had a nasty purple and green bruise.

  “How are you doing?” she asked in return. “Honestly?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She took a slow breath to keep her emotions at bay. April was almost over. May wasn’t far off. After that was June and after that…life.

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t thanked you yet for saving Jeff.”

  “It’s your fault, you know. You ruined me.” His gaze lifted to the blue sky. “The old Greg woulda sent him to prison, let him rot for what he did, but I’ve gone soft. You ruined me.”

  Figured.

  She’d ruined everyone.

  She laid her head on her knees, too tired to hold it up anymore. Four days and the pain was still all-consuming. Jeff blamed himself for the whole mess, but Carrie knew who truly was to blame.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “It’s my fault they had my couch and they were angry and—”

  “Don’t, Carrie,” Greg said. “Just don’t. It won’t help.”

  But it would. She’d been avoiding Greg because he knew—he knew—it was her fault. The guilt was suffocating her.

  “If I’d just gone to their house, Jenna would still be—”

  “You wanna know whose fault this is?” he asked, rising to his feet. “I’m the one who punched Jeff, remember? I’m the one who set him off, and then made you feel guilty for not goin’ after him. While you made amends, I wiped it all out. But that’s my style, isn’t it? Search and destroy? Your clan was doin’ just fine before I showed up. You and Oliver. You and Jeff. You and everybody were perfectly happy. But I’ve destroyed everything in your clan, including you.”

  “Your clan?” She looked up at him. “You mean our clan? And what do you mean, you destroyed me?”

  “Before I moved in you were Miss Happy-Go-Lucky. Now look at you.”

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. She was a mess. She knew that. But it wasn’t Greg’s fault. If anything she wanted to thank him for holding her together at Jenna’s, for sheltering her from the image of Jenna’s body that would have plagued her forever.

  He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “You’re not happy, and you used to be, so I wanted to say I’m sorry before I go.”

  “Go?” Her eyes snapped up, knowing he wasn’t talking about leaving her backyard. His tone carried more weight than that. “Go where?”

  “Home.”

  She panicked. “This is your home, Greg.”

  He sighed. “No. It never was.”

  He was leaving.

  Going back to North Carolina.

  “You can’t leave,” she said. “Our clan needs you.”

  “This clan needs me to leave. Half of them blame me for what happened, and the other half should.” His eyes lifted to the sky again, looking more at peace than he should be with such a rash decision. “Everybody wants their life back. They’re ready to find some peace—especially you. You deserve to be happy, which means I’ve gotta leave. I just wanted you to know. Bye, Carrie.”

  Just like that, he started away. He headed across her jungled grass to the hill that led away from her, away from everything. Carrie knew if she didn’t say something fast, she would never see Greg Pierce again. He was just that kind of guy.

  She jumped up and ran after him. “What about Zach? He’ll be devastated.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Greg pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to her. She wasn’t prepared, and the baseball landed at her feet. “Tell him goodbye for me.”

  “What? No. You can’t—”

  He yanked off his Yankees hat and threw it at her as well. Then he kept going. Up the hill. Away.

  She picked up his stuff and ran.

  “You can’t leave, Greg. You’re part of this clan now.” He was her friend. Her fake wind. A hundred more memories washed over her, not all bad. Greg was a part of her life, yet he was walking away without even so much as a backward glance.

  “What about the barricade?” she tried.

  “They’ll finish it.”

  “What about the other clans? Working with the mayor?” she begged. “Buying houses? All of your ideas?”

  “Nobody wanted them anyway.”

  Desperate, she called, “What about your mom?”

  He stopped dead in his tracks.
For a long minute, he stayed facing away from her, but in the end, he just shook his head. “You’re tryin’ to guilt me into stayin’, Carrie. Only I’m not you. I never was.”

  She refused to back down because if he left, he’d either get a few miles before the guilt won out and he’d turn back, or he’d make it to North Carolina and spend the rest of his life hating himself for not being here when his mom died.

  Carrie refused to leave it up to chance.

  “Your mom needs you. And she needs you here.”

  “She has Richard now,” he said softly.

  “It’s not the same, and you know it. You’ll break her heart if you leave, and her heart is hurting enough. She just lost Jenna, and CJ isn’t well, and…and…” Carrie stared at the back of his UNC shirt. “Just don’t go, okay?”

  He finally turned. “If I stay, then what?”

  She shrugged. “Life. For better or worse.”

  “You still think the two of us can live in the same clan?” he asked incredulously. “What about Oliver? He wants me outta here more than anybody.”

  A heavy blush spread on her cheeks as she thought about Oliver’s blessing. Obviously Oliver hadn’t had the same discussion with Greg.

  “Oliver wants you here,” she said. “I know he does.”

  Greg cocked his head to the side. “He’s in love with you, Carrie, which makes me his biggest threat. With his new promotion, he can offer the clan more security than ever.”

  Oliver’s promotion. That was the only good thing to come of everything. As a reward for turning in his coworkers, Oliver not only got a larger salary, but a larger territory as well. Oliver’s boss was thrilled, but somehow Greg thought Oliver needed her?

  She stood her ground. “Oliver will never turn on us. You know that now.”

  “But he’s still a man, Carrie. If you reject him, he’ll promise to keep helpin’, but it’ll get harder and harder to see you. His visits will spread out until he disappears altogether. A guy like Oliver would rather be invisible than humiliated.”

  She wanted to fight back, but she thought about how the darkness had helped Oliver speak the other night. Still, that didn’t mean he would disappear, did it? She kept her answers vague a few nights ago. What happened when she didn’t?