Beauty S Beholder

BEAUTY'S BEHOLDER - CLARK
Chapter 1 There should be a law against having History Class first thing Monday morning. Not only do I not like History, but I've had this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach since I got out of bed this morning. A nagging feeling that something big is about to happen. I mean something so ginormous that it might just change the course of my life forever. Call me weird, but when I get these gut feelings, something happens. The last time I felt this way was right before my whole world turned upside-down, about six months ago. I can't shake the feeling as I sit in the back of the classroom. I find it terribly distracting, but I'm trying to pay attention -- or at least look like I am -- so Mr. Blair doesn't call on me. I do not want him to call on me and mortify me in front of the whole class, so I avoid making eye contact with him. I just want to blend in -- better yet, I want to disappear. My tiny frame is as low in the chair as I can be while still remaining in a semi-upright position. My naturally purple-black hair is too short to hide behind, and I left my hoodie in my locker. Could he be any more boring? I mean seriously. Who cares about Getty's dress and where in my future will I ever need to know this stuff? Oh wait, it's the Gettysburg Address. I learned about that last year at my old school. My old school where I had friends and where I'd attended classes since kindergarten. The old school where I was popular and where I had a boyfriend. The old school, where I wasn't the outsider that I am now. Basically, where I actually had a life. The new school -- where I am now -- is Disappointment Cove High School in Disappointment Cove, Missouri. I'm not kidding; that's the name. To say that moving here has been a disappointment would be the understatement of the century.
"Miss Alexander? Trinity?" Mr. Blair says approaching my desk. Apparently he's just asked me something and is now calling me out for not paying attention. "Did you want to answer the question?" "Sure, if I just knew what it was." I say matter-of-factly amongst the snickers from the rest of the class. "I asked if you could tell me when the Battle of Gettysburg took place," he repeats pushing his nerdy glued-together glasses back up his beak-like nose. As he leans over in my face, I'm thinking Tic-Tac. I actually know the answer to this one. The Battle of Gettysburg had been fought just before my birthday -- I was a 4th of July baby -- before my birthday over one hundred years ago, that is. "It was in early July, 1863," I answer confidently, wanting desperately to add "So there!" and stick out my tongue, but don't want to push my luck, either. "That's right," he says, turning to walk back to his spot at the front of the room. Am I wrong or does he seem disappointed that I know the answer? Whatever. Like I said, I'm pretty sure I'll never need to know this stuff when I'm out of school. History is not one of my favorite subjects, and it probably won't help me with my decision to be a Veterinarian. The smug satisfaction I feel for having bested Mr. Blair is fleeting, however, as a soft knock on the classroom door interrupts my brief moment of glory. Mrs. Everett, the head administrative assistant pokes her head inside the room. She speaks quietly with Mr. Blair for a moment before standing aside to let a guy I don't recognize enter the classroom.
This is a small town, with a small school. Even being here for the short time I've been here; I've managed to learn everyone's name, or at least their faces. I only bother to learn their names if I'm curious and usually, I'm not. I've never seen this guy before -- he has to be new. I heard that a new family had recently moved into the old Decker mansion on Spencer Street, but I don't know who they are or from where they moved. "Class, we've got a new student joining us this morning. Everyone, please welcome Logan Sharpe." Mr. Blair announces. There are a few hushed whispers from the girls sitting to my immediate left. Amanda Taylor and her friend Heather Robinson are the two most popular girls in the eleventh grade. They are checking Logan out as if he's a pair of designer shoes from the sale rack at Macy's. Poor guy, I know exactly how it feels to be thrown into the spotlight unwillingly. "Mr. Sharpe -- Logan -- please have a seat at that empty desk back there," Mr. Blair points to the desk next to mine in the back row. "Miss Alexander, please show Mr. Sharpe where we were in the discussion since you seem to know." More laughter from the class. Great. Humiliate me in front of the new guy why don't you? Thanks, Mr. Bore. I notice that Logan is tall, maybe about six feet or so, probably a jock with those broad shoulders. He walks with a particularly pronounced limp and favors his right leg considerably. From what I can see of his face, he's okay looking, though it's hard to get a decent look since he is hiding in the shadow of his hoodie. He keeps his eyes down; like he has suddenly noticed his feet for the first time and finds them extremely fascinating.
He glances my way briefly through dark lashes. I manage to catch a glimpse of his eyes and see that they are the oddest shade of aqua-blue, probably contacts, I assume. I'm sure he wouldn't find me interesting in the least. Thankfully, my Helpful Class-Mate title will be over with just as soon as this morning's History class is. "Hi Logan, I'm Trinity. Turn to page one-forty-five. Mr. Bore, err, Mr. Blair was just discussing the Battle of Gettysburg." I tell him quietly. "Thanks." He mumbles, barely audible as he keeps his hood up and his head down, not once looking in my direction. Great. Could my life be any worse? First, Mr. Bore tries humiliating me in front of the entire History class for not paying attention. Then he sticks me with the new guy who is as receptive to me as if I'm a lobster tail dipped in butter and he's allergic to seafood. I mean could he be any more rude? He is leaning away from me as if he's afraid of catching something. I suppose if he stood up and slid his desk farther away from mine... that would be more obvious. It is pretty obvious; he is as thrilled about sitting next to me as I am by having him sit here. Whatever. Class will be over soon, and it will all be just another pleasant memory in my life filled with so many.
Chapter 2 Having anticipated the bell my History book closed, and everything else is stashed away in my backpack. I plan on making a mad dash for the door as soon as the bell rings. My next class this morning is English Lit; at least I like that class. Ms. Carroll is a great teacher; she's not at all boring like Mr. Blair. Petri and I have English Lit together. Petri is one of the three friends I've made since moving here in mid-June, a little over three months ago. Mrs. Everett is standing outside the English Lit room with Logan and she watches as I make my way through the crowded hall. He's staring at his shoes again. I hate to break it to him, but they're just feet. "Trinity, this is Disappointment Cove's newest student, Logan Sharpe," she tells me cheerfully as if it's the most exciting news she's ever heard. "Yes, Mrs. Everett, we met. He's in my History Class." "Good, good. I thought since you're both in the Outreach Program and share many of the same classes, you could show him around this first week?" It's pretty clear she's made up her mind and this isn't a multiple choice question. I guess she forgot part of the reason I'm in the Outreach Program in the first place is because -- like Logan -- I'm new here. I stretch my mouth into something resembling a semi-friendly smile, "Sure, I'd be happy to." "Wonderful. It's all settled then." She rushes off before I have a chance to change my mind. I look at Logan and he shrugs his shoulders and glances at me briefly. There's something about those eyes of his. Something that both draws me in and warns me to stay away in the same fleeting glance.
"Sorry. Looks like you drew the short straw this week," he says softly. Does it show? "No problem," I smile and avoid making eye contact. "Thanks. Being the new guy pretty much sucks," he mutters. "Tell me about it, I just moved here over the summer from St. Louis, so you can imagine the culture shock I felt when I got here." I say, not quite sure why I feel the need to disclose all that information, it just sort of comes tumbling out of my mouth. Petri tells me I do that a lot, open mouth first, engage brain later. "Sorry, I'm rambling. Where did you move from?" He hesitates -- like I've just asked him for his bank account information or social security number or something -- before answering, "Chicago." I nod, standing outside the classroom. I wish I had a knife to cut the awkward tension between us. "Ms. Carroll teaches English Lit. She's pretty cool," I inform him. "Trin, wait up!" Petri yells from the end of the hall in her unmistakable southern drawl. Petri Wallace is my best friend, my BFF. She was the first person to talk to me when she saw me at the beach this past summer. I think it was something like, "Is this spot taken?" Quiet, yet opinionated, we hit it off right from the start. Petri's family moved up here from Atlanta when she was in eighth grade. We couldn't care less about fitting in or being one of the in-crowd. Disappointment Cove is just a transitory town for both of us, due to circumstances beyond our control -- family. Petri is one of the smartest girls I know and is only interested in getting her high school diploma so she can move on to study Law at the University of Missouri in Columbia. Not to settle down for life or win any popularity contests. She still has a hint of southern drawl that she sometimes reverts to, like when she's being lazy or trying to be charming. She's also incredibly cute. Not beautiful or even pretty, she's just
cute, with her short, curly, strawberry-blonde hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. The light smattering of freckles she has across her nose makes her look a lot younger than her sixteen, nearly seventeen years. At about five-seven, she's taller than my five-two, which I might reach if I stood on my tip-toes. "Who's your friend?" Petri asks out of breath from running down the hall in her trademark high heels, eying Logan. "Petri, this is Logan Sharpe," turning to Logan, "Logan, this is my BFF Petri Dish, err Petri Wallace." "Very funny," she glares, referring to my term of endearment for her -- Petri Dish. She looks Logan over from head to toe and smiles broadly at him showing the cute little gap between her front teeth. "Hey Logan, don't mind her. Ten thousand comedians out of work, and we have Trinity," she says as she shifts her books to offer him her hand. Logan ignores her hand, leaving his in his pockets. "Hi," he says quietly, slipping past her and into the classroom. "Maybe he's a germaphobe." Petri says as we exchange looks. I just shrug my shoulders and we follow him into the classroom. She takes her seat at the back of the room just before the bell rings. "Ms. Carroll, this is Logan Sharpe, he's new." I inform her, as if that isn't totally obvious. "Thank you, Trinity. I've been expecting you Logan; it's so nice to meet you." Ms. Carroll says in the easy-going way she has of making everyone feel welcome. "Trinity, would you find Logan a seat and bring him a text book from the back of the room, please?"
I nod in response wondering where on my long list of talents it indicates I'm the most qualified to show the new guy around. I mean, technically I've only been at this school a few weeks longer than he has. Not that I mind helping, it's just that I'm just not sure that I'm the most qualified person for the job. Besides if I wanted to be a babysitter, I would have stayed in St. Louis where daddy dearest, the wicked stepmother Chloe and the little urchin Ethan still live. Chloe isn't really wicked, but I made up my mind from the beginning not to like her, not to be nice to her and, in fact, not even acknowledge her existence on this planet. As far as I'm concerned, she is and always will be public enemy number one. Scoping out the seating situation, I see Petri has conveniently positioned herself in the middle of three empty desks near the back of the small classroom. "Have a seat back there by Petri, Logan, and I'll grab you a book," I tell him pointing in the general direction of where she's sitting. As I watch him walk away, I wonder curiously what happened to causes him to limp like that. Logan takes the empty seat to the right of Petri, near the wall, leaving me the spot to her left. I grab him a book from the back of the room, and when I hand it to him; I notice that his right hand is fully covered with bright pink scar tissue -- scars left behind from a serious burn. Catching me staring at his hand, he quickly snatches the book from me with his left hand and puts his disfigured hand beneath the desk. I know it's rude to stare; it just catches me off guard. Quickly recovering, I close my gaping mouth and take my seat on the other side of Petri. Nothing gets past her; she spots the scars too. I give her a swift kick to the shin, a reminder that it's rude to stare, and more to the point, it's extremely rude to stare at the new guy's disfigured hand with your mouth hanging open. Especially since it's obvious he's sensitive about it.
She glares at me for a few seconds rubbing her leg before Ms. Carroll begins talking about The Scarlet Letter, our next reading assignment. I read the book last year and frankly, if you ask me, I think Hester was wronged.
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Chapter 3 After English Lit I'm talking to Petri when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It startles me at first. Guess I'm a little jumpy this morning. I turn around to see Logan standing behind me. He never seems to be able to look directly at me for more than two seconds. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he's looking at his class schedule. "It looks like I have a free period now. Which way is the library?" I tell Pete I'll talk to her at lunch and start heading in the direction of the Trig classroom, another one of my least favorite classes. "Follow me, it's on my way," I tell him. Thankfully, I have Adam and Aimee to keep me company in Trig. Adam and Aimee Buckwalter are twins. They've lived here since the third grade, but like Petri and me, they don't seem to want to fit into any of the cliques either, so the four of us have formed our own little clique, we privately call it our "Whatever" clique. Adam is gay, and everyone knows he's gay except for his dad. I honestly think his dad knows -- he's just in denial. I would think that Adam's choice of attire might give him away, that or the fact that he likes to wear his sister's make-up. Until she finally put her foot down, and told him he needed to start buying his own. She got tired of him using all of her eye liner, and not telling her -- until she tried to find it. By then it was either empty, or not where it was supposed to be. That boy goes through more eyeliner and mascara than most girls I know, though I have to admit, it looks better on him than it does Aimee. It's lunch time before I run into Logan again. Grabbing my lunch bag from my nearly empty locker, I try to slam the door shut. It bounces back open as usual. I go to shut it again when someone slides up behind me out of nowhere and softly closes it for me. I turn to find Logan standing there.
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"You know, if you didn't slam it so hard, it would close on the first try," he says smugly. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I say as my cheeks start to feel as if they are on fire. "I thought maybe you got bored with following me around and decided to ditch." "I didn't know you were keeping track," he tells me with a disconcerting grin on his face. I look at him. I mean seriously look at him now that he actually has his hoodie down for once. His hair is dark, almost blue-black and on the longish side. It isn't "dirtball-trying-to-becool" or "I-never-wash-my-hair" long, instead he has it neatly pulled back into a loose ponytail, and it is definitely clean. His teeth are off-the-chart's white and years-of-expensive-orthodontistwork straight. Those full lips surrounding those teeth look... I guess you could say they look kissable. His eyes are an unquestionably odd, but seriously mesmerizing, shade of aqua-blue. As Petri would say, a girl could get lost in those eyes. Checking him out, I decide that he's just about drop-dead gorgeous. That's when I notice the scar spoiling the entire right side of his face, an exceptionally nasty scar that a serious burn would leave, like the ones covering his hand. Self-consciously, he looks down and away when he catches me checking him out. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to" I stammer, embarrassed for being caught gawking at him so blatantly. "Don't apologize!" He snaps, "I get so tired of people pretending that they don't see the scars and then apologizing as if they've done something wrong when I catch them looking." "Seriously dude, chill. I didn't mean to stare. And I certainly am not pretending that I don't see them," I shoot back, throwing in a glare for added effect.
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He relaxes visibly, and a slight smile curls at the edge of his mouth, "You've got spark. I like that. I shouldn't be so defensive with you. I keep forgetting that this is a new school and a new town and not everyone here knows about my scars." Something tells me the scars he's referring to aren't just the visible ones. I don't know why, but there's something about Logan Sharpe that both draws me in and intimidates the hell out of me at the same time. Dark and mysterious is an excellent way to describe some guy from a movie you watched last night, but it's not a description I've ever used to describe someone that I found myself attracted to. Oh crap, did I just admit that I'm attracted to him? "Now that we've got that out of the way," I tell him, trying to reduce the tension I feel. "I'm going to go eat." I turn and start to walk away from him, headed in the direction of the lunchroom. I don't want him to know that he's almost left me speechless. "Hey wait!" He calls after me. I stop, turn around, and look at him, anxious to see what other pleasantries are about to spew from that oh-so-kissable mouth of his. Crap, there I go again. "Would you mind if I tag along?" He asks shyly, "I mean you did sort of draw the short straw and all." Well now, what am I going to tell him? Hell no? Or, how about: I'm not your babysitter? Instead, I find my mouth doing one of those "speak before you think things," and before I can help myself I tell him he can join us. When we walk into the lunchroom, it's like making a grand entrance onto stage. I swear every head in the place turns to stare at us. If I ever wanted to disappear before, this is without a
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doubt one of those times. In case I didn't mention it, I don't enjoy the spotlight. In fact, I will go miles out of my way to avoid anything resembling the spotlight. No spotlights for me here in Disappointment Cove thank you very much. Thankfully, Petri, Adam and Aimee are already at our usual table near the emergency exit sign. Weaving in and out of the hordes of gawking faces, I lead him to our table and the question-and-answer session I am sure is waiting there. "Trinity, you brought dessert!" Adam says, perking up at the prospect of having another male join our little group. "Hey everybody, this is Logan Sharpe. He just moved here from Chicago," I say, ignoring Adam's comment. "Logan, you know Petri already, these two are Adam and Aimee Buckwalter. Adam's the one with the expertly applied eye makeup, in case you're wondering." Logan is quiet and reserved with other people around. Self-consciously, he keeps his head down most of the time and the hood is back up. The confident smart-ass I witnessed moments before in the hallway has disappeared. I'm not sure which side I like better: The cocky, arrogant, self-assured Logan Sharpe, or the one sitting here now, a total opposite of all of those things. Either way, it's clear I find him extremely attractive for some unexplainable reason. I mean besides the kissable lips and the todie-for aqua blue eyes, I don't get it. I haven't thought of anyone like that since Marco and I broke up after I moved to Disappointment Cove. At first, we tried the whole long distance relationship thing. That lasted about a month before he got tired of driving down here to the middle of nowhere to see me. I guess it was just more convenient for him to start dating my now ex-best friend, Melissa than continue our relationship. What majorly sucks about that whole deal is that neither of them
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had the guts to tell me to my face. I had to find out for myself when I got in my car and drove up to St. Louis to surprise them that one weekend. I don't know who was more surprised, Marco "it's-not-what-you-think" Davanzati or Melissa "I-swear-we-never-meant-for-this-to-happen" Pasquini. In spite of their repeated efforts of texting and calling after that night, I've not spoken to either of them since, nor do I plan to. Good riddance. "Do I see lust in your eyes?" Petri asks, whispering in my ear. "What? Are you insane?" I hiss as I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. "Well that blush you're wearin' tells me you've at least noticed he's kinda sexy. You could do worse." Petri points out eyeing Logan. "Shut-up, thank you very much." I say, giving her the look she recognizes as one of my 'end of subject, not open for discussion' looks. "So, Logan what do you think of our little town?" Aimee asks as she slides up next to him. If I'm not mistaken, I think she's flirting with him. "I haven't seen too much, to tell the truth." Logan replies looking uncomfortable and tries to scoot away from her advances. "Not much to see," I interject. "Especially not when you come from a city the size of Chicago, I'm sure." "Not true, Trin, there's the corn maze and the haunted house for Halloween. Oh and there's the, umm, well, I'm sure there's something else exciting to do here. I just can't think of anything at the moment," Adam says as he pops another cookie in his mouth. "There's always my birthday party this Saturday night at the bowling alley. That ranks right up there as one of the not-to-be-missed events of the season," Petri says grinning broadly.
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"There's the big October Fest slash Halloween dance coming up. That's an annual event that's pretty exciting," Aimee tells him, leaning in close again. "I don't do dances," Logan replies curtly. We all look at each other. I'm sure that there's a perfectly good reason behind his not "doing" dances, but I'm not about to ask him and have everyone think I care. Especially since I'm not sure I do. I decide to change the subject instead. "What class do you have next, Logan?" "It's supposed to be Gym, but I don't do Gym," he says with a scowl. "Hmm, you don't do dances, you don't do Gym... just what is it you do do?" Petri asks him with a puzzled look on her face. Getting up from the table slowly, Logan looks at Petri as if she has two heads, and says quietly, "Not much. Not anymore." "I bet he has a Dr.'s excuse keeping him out of Gym, with that limp," Petri sighs. "I wish I had an excuse to get out of Gym." "You mean besides the standard 'I hate it, so I don't want to go today' excuse you usually use?" Adam says, trying to get a rise out of her -- something he's quite good at. "Shut up Adam, don't you have a bikini wax to go to or something?" Petri shoots back. "Girls, girls," I shake my head at the two of them. "See you guys later, I've got a Spanish test to study for." I get up and head toward the library. I have a free period, and really need to study for the Spanish test I have today.
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Chapter 4 "Te importa si me siento?" Logan's voice asks from out of nowhere, eyeing my Spanish text book. "How do you keep doing that?" I ask him as I feel my face heat into a non-flattering shade of crimson. "How do I keep doing what?" He asks, sounding all innocent. "How is it that you keep appearing from out of nowhere? I mean seriously dude, you're starting to freak me out," I frown. "Sorry, I'm just sneaky like that," he says clearly amused at my discomfort by his sudden closeness. "And no, I don't mind if you sit down. Obviously, you know Spanish, so maybe you can help me out. I have a test next hour," I inform him, tapping on the Spanish book in front of me. "I can do that. It's not like I have anything better to do," he says as he glances around the library. "Thanks a lot!" I tell him, slightly annoyed by his implication. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry," he apologizes. "I just meant oh I know, shut up Logan." Watching him sit down, it's apparent that I've made him blush this time instead of the other way around. The hour flies by, and I have to admit, he's pretty decent at Spanish. Okay, not just pretty decent. He speaks it fluently; frontwards, backwards, upside down, sideways and everywhere in between. "You're good, where'd you lean to speak Spanish like that?" I ask, more just to compliment his skills than be nosey.
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"I had a Spanish nanny for a few years when I was younger. She taught it to me to help pass the time whenever I got bored," he answers quietly. "No brothers or sisters?" I ask. "Nope, what about you?" "No. Well I have a new baby step brother, but for the most part, I grew up as an only child," I reply uncomfortably, not wanting to go there with him. "What's class do you have next?" "You're in luck. I've got Spanish, too," he says, grinning mischievously. There's that look again, almost cocky. On second thought, there is no almost about it -definitely cocky. How is it that he can seem so sure of himself one minute and so unsure of himself the next? Never mind the minor detail that he just seems to emanate sensuality and what is that cologne he's wearing? Dangerous combination, I decide. "I just can't get over how this has turned out to be my lucky day, really." I reply and roll my eyes. In spite of his arrogant attitude, I like his presence and I don't want to scare him off altogether. There is no denying the fact that I find myself intrigued by him. We walk down the hall to the Spanish classroom. Mrs. Gonzales is an excellent Spanish teacher, even better if you're proficient at Spanish. She'll appreciate Logan's skills. "Mrs. Gonzales, this is Logan Sharpe." I say in English, not trusting my Spanish enough to tell her. "Si, si, gracias, Senorita Trinity. Bienvenido, Senor Sharpe." She greets him with a huge grin crinkling the corners of her big brown eyes.
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Mrs. Gonzales teaches the class in Spanish. If you are less than adept at speaking it, like I am, learning in her class isn't an easy thing to pull off. Most of what I learned in Spanish, I got from Google Translate. I just hope Logan's crash tutoring lesson will be enough to help me get at least a "C" on the test. Mrs. G. rattles off something else, and I have no clue what she's said. Glancing sideways at Logan, he leans over and translates for me. "You're supposed to find us a seat, and grab me a text book from the back. I'd think you'd know that drill by now, Trinity, jeez," he grins. Oh.No.He.Did.Not. He just winked at me! The nerve of his arrogant self. Glaring at him, my cheeks on fire, I tell him, in English -- though I'm tempted to throw in a little French -- he can sit wherever he wants. I point to the books along the wall. "Help yourself, Senor Sharpe." "Por favor, ocupen sus asientos a todos." Mrs. Gonzales commands, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Tenemos una prueba de hoy. Confo en que usted ha estudiado." Which, roughly translated, Trinity-style, means: "Sit down. You're about to take a test. If you haven't studied for it, you're screwed." Which is pretty much how I feel right about now. When the bell rings signaling time is up, I reluctantly hand in my test. It was harder than I expected but hopefully I did well enough to score a passing grade. I don't much care for Spanish this first time around; I sure don't want to have to take it again. I think next year I'll try something more romantic than Spanish, like Italian. The only Spanish I care anything about is burritos, tacos, refried beans and guacamole. "How'd you do?" Logan asks once we're out in the hall.
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"Terrible, but thanks for asking," I say crinkling my nose. I'm not kidding, but for some reason he thinks it's funny. "I'm sure you did better than you think," he laughs. "Glad you're so confident," I say scowling. "I'm pretty sure that once you get to know me, you'll see that I'm anything but confident," he says quietly as the laughter suddenly fades from his eyes. Turning, he walks away. Usually, I'm pretty good at figuring people out, but I have to admit, this guy has me stumped. Shaking my head, I watch as he limps out of site. Going in the opposite direction from where I need to be, Home Ec. Like I said, I may not be able to speak Spanish, but I sure can cook it. Cooking is something I love to do, and it's something that I'm actually pretty decent at. Once I get to know him? Did he just leave the door open for my getting to know him better? The thought doesn't totally disappoint me I decide, grinning in spite of myself.
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Chapter 5 The rest of the afternoon passes quickly and I don't run into Logan again until I'm in my car after school. Seeing him walking not far from the high school, I pull over to the side of the street and roll down the passenger-side window. "Hey Logan, you need a ride?" I call out. "I can walk, it's not that far," he responds and continues walking without looking in my direction. "I don't mind, really. Come on, I don't bite." He stops, apparently considering my offer. Finally he walks over to the car and leans his head inside, "Are you sure it's not out of your way?" "The town's not that big. Seriously dude, nothing is out of the way here," I tell him as I reach over and remove my backpack from the passenger seat. "Don't you live on Spencer Street?" He glances sideways at me and fastens his seatbelt, "Yeah I do. How'd you know that?" "Small town. You sneeze, and your neighbor is at the door with a bowl of chicken soup and a box of Kleenex," I joke as I peer into my rearview mirror and pull back on to the street. "If you say so," he shrugs. "I do. Don't you have a car?" I ask. "I don't have a license. No license, no car," he mutters. He avoids looking at me by staring out the window at the trees that have already lost most of their leaves. Winter isn't far off here in southern Missouri. I decide I won't ask why he doesn't have a driver's license. Coming from Chicago, I can't say as I blame him for not wanting to drive around there. I got my license and my dad's old car just after I left St. Louis, having my sixteenth birthday in Disappointment Cove.
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"Isn't your street up here somewhere?" I ask, not sure I know exactly where I'm going. "Yeah, just take a right up there," he says motioning with his head. When I turn on to Spencer Street he points, "There on the corner, where that black car is sitting." Pulling up in front of his house, I admire the shiny black Cadillac CTS-V sitting in the driveway. Cars are my obsession -- especially ones that awesome. Though you'd never know it from what I drive -- an eighty-something Ford Escort that my dad used to drive back when he lived here. It isn't pretty, but it gets me from point A to point B. Most of the time. "Nice ride, is that your parent's car?" I ask. "My dad's prized possession, surprised it's not in the garage," he mutters cynically. "Well, maybe he and your mom are going out for the evening," I suggest. "My mother is dead." With that, he gets out of the car, utters something that might have been "thanks" and slams the door. He doesn't look back as he limps slowly up the sidewalk toward his front door. Ok, now that's awkward. How was I supposed to know? It seems like I have a lot to learn about Logan Sharpe. It isn't going to be easy if he clams up every time I unintentionally hit a nerve. Maybe I don't want to know. Oh well, he'll probably forget about me by tomorrow anyway, I decide. After I drop him off, I head to the outskirts of town to check in on my latest "patient" at Akers of Love. Part of the Outreach Program is to encourage the students to get involved and give back to the community. My involvement began shortly after I moved here with a bi-weekly visit to Akers of Love, a rescue and rehabilitation shelter for stray or injured dogs just outside the city limits.
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Soon it turned more into something I wanted to do instead of something I had to do. Now I stop in nearly every day after school to help out. When I pull into the lot, Babs is out front talking to some people who appear to be the proud parents of a new kitten. I let myself in the back door. "How's my favorite girl doing today?" I lean over Lucy's cage. Babs doesn't believe in caging the animals if she can help it. But it's for Lucy's own good. She's only been here a couple of weeks and is slowly on the mend. She's a gorgeous Golden Retriever and it tugs at my heart to see her sad eyes looking up at me. Lucy got hit by a car awhile back and her right hind leg had to be amputated. She's here now to recuperate and learn to live with three legs. It's my job to take her out and walk her in the shallow pool to help her regain her strength and confidence. Hopefully when she's strong enough, she'll find an awesome forever home. I pat her head gently, "I know girl. Life sucks sometimes." I reach for her leash and open the door to her cage. Snapping the leash onto her collar, I patiently coax her out. "Cmon girl, you can do it." "You're the highlight of that dog's day, I swear." Babs tells me from the doorway. "Babs! You scared the crap out of me!" I cry shooting her an indignant look, "At least someone's happy to see me." "Well of course we are. Isn't that right Lucy girl?" Babs is Beverly Akers. She prefers to be called Babs, even though I've tried telling her that Babs is short for Barbara, not Beverly. Babs started Akers of Love on thirty-acres south of Disappointment Cove almost twentyfive years ago with her husband Charlie. They worked side-by-side as a team to build this place
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into the haven it is today. Charlie, who never smoked a cigarette a day in his life, died five years ago of lung cancer. Babs is a strong -- some might say stubborn -- woman with a no-nonsense exterior disguising a huge and caring heart. She is a private woman who never fails to remind me that there is a difference between being alone and being lonely. I think that her inner strength probably comes in part from having buried both a husband and a son. I watch as she leans her lanky frame over and gently takes Lucy's head between two strong hands, smiling down at the trusting Retriever. She's wearing her smoke-colored hair in a single braid that falls halfway down her back. I notice a few unruly curls have slipped out framing her face. Absent mindedly, she tucks them behind her ear and pats Lucy on the head. "Let's take her to the big pool today," Babs suggests and turns to lead the way. "I think she's ready. Retrievers take to water like ducks to the rain." I smile to myself at her easy going nature. We hit it off as soon as I started coming here over the summer. She's easy to talk to and there always seems to be a lot of wisdom in her words. Her intuition seems to tell her when I don't want to talk about something or when I really need to talk about something... even if I don't know it. I lead Lucy up onto the deck and unsnap her leash. I'm not surprised when it doesn't take much coaxing for her to jump into the water. We watch her dog paddle easily across the large above-ground pool. "So. What's going on in that head of yours this afternoon Trinity?" She peers sideways at me in a way of someone who just knows something is going on that you want to talk about. I glance at her and know there's no point in saying "nothing," because she can see right through me, and besides, I want to talk about it.
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"There's a new guy at school," I say after a short pause. I mean, I want to talk about him, but I'm not sure what to say about the whole thing. "And?" She encourages. "Well. I've been asked to show him around this week. We have a lot of the same classes together. I guess he's been placed in the Outreach Program too." "That's nice, but why do I feel that there's more to it than you're telling me?" She turns from watching Lucy and folds her arms across her chest. I sigh, and tell her what I know about Logan, which honestly isn't a lot. "I feel like an idiot for sticking my foot in my mouth about his mom." "You just met him today?" She asks. I nod. "Then how could you know about his mom?" Before I have a chance to answer, she answers for me, "you couldn't have. So stop beating yourself up over it. He'll open up to you when he's ready. Patience Trinity. You'll see." She gives me a wink, and there's a reassuring twinkle in her eye. "I suppose you might be right." I concede. "Of course I am. Besides. You love a challenge." "Yeah but a challenge is one thing; beating my head against a brick wall for a lost cause is a whole different story. Besides, you know about me and that patience thing as in, I don't have any." I say, as if she needs to be reminded. "You have more patience than you give yourself credit for." Babs says quietly. She's great at pointing out different options to the endless questions I often pose, but she never comes right out and tells me what to do -- which is good, because if she told me what to
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do, I'd do the opposite and kick myself later when it didn't work out. It's all about free will she tells me and I just need to trust myself to make the right choices. Yeah right. I'm glad she has so much faith in me. Lucy is getting tired from all the swimming and splashing around, I call her to the side and lead her up the specially built steps onto the deck. I grab one of the thick towels from the storage room to dry her off. When I have most of the excess water absorbed, she gives a hardy shake as if to prove to me that she can dry herself off better than I can. I laugh as she sprays me with a fine mist of water. I snap the leash back on and she follows me back to the clinic. "Just be yourself around him and he won't be able to resist that sassy charm of yours. Trust me, he'll be following you around like Lucy there." Babs reassures me.
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Chapter 6 Later as I sit on my bed reading, my cell phone rings. It's Daddy Dearest. I ignore his call and let it go straight to voice mail. I don't feel like dealing with him at the moment. He's the reason I'm in this God-forsaken town in the first place. I came to be here this past summer after my dad, Dr. Daniel Alexander, announced he was moving in with his pregnant girlfriend. My father is a well-respected plastic surgeon in St. Louis at the prestigious Kincaid Hospital. His reputation for being one of the best reconstructive surgeons this side of the Mississippi River is well-deserved. I guess he thought reconstructing his life with another woman was easier than rebuilding the one he already had with us. I lived with my mother Grace for a brief time after he left. Until she had a minimeltdown, and ran off with some con-artist she met through one of the fourteen online dating services she'd signed up with. I'm exaggerating, but not by much. I live in Disappointment Cove now because living with Grace while she is off trying to "find herself" with her new found "soul mate," isn't an option. Though the courts awarded full legal custody to my father, Daddy Dearest, he decided after I got into trouble for underage drinking and skipping school he didn't want to deal with me. So he shipped me off to his mother's house out here in the sticks instead. Not that anyone asked my opinion. And just for the record, I only skipped a few classes. No big deal. I also didn't make a habit of drinking. I never liked how it made me feel all numb and stupid. But that one time, and I swear that's all it was, that One Time. Marco and I were at some big party. I don't even know whose house it was. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself and decided what the hell, why not?
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Since I wasn't a seasoned veteran at drinking, it didn't take much, and pretty soon I was feeling no pain. Someone called the cops and the party was raided. We were all taken in and our parents were called. Talk about a sobering experience. Anyway, that's when Chloe blew up and threw a fit. She didn't want me around. Apparently I'm not the kind of role model she wants around her child. Blah, blah, blah. My spineless father sided with her and the next thing I knew, I was uprooted, unwillingly to Podunk, Mo. Trust me; this town is not exactly the place I would pick to spend my last two years of high school, though Grandma Sarah has done her best to make it as comfortable as possible for me. She enrolled me in the community Outreach Program right away, in case I was the "at-risk" rebellious teenager Daddy Dearest and the wicked step-mother made me out to be. Grandma Sarah and I live in a sprawling old Victorian house that is as old as the town of Disappointment Cove itself, maybe older. If I remember correctly, Grandma Sarah was born and raised in this pink monstrosity of a house and lived here her entire life. Yes, the house is pink. You can't miss it. Everyone in town knows about the huge, pink painted lady at the end of Olive Street, a dead-end street in a dead-end town, but no, I'm not bitter. I get the feeling that sleep won't come easy tonight. Good thing I brought home some homework. Judging from my performance on the Spanish test this afternoon, I should be studying Spanish, but decide to call Petri first. If anyone can get my mind off Spanish and Logan Sharpe, I'm sure it's Petri. "So... Logan's pretty hot isn't he?" Petri asks, reminding me of exactly what it is I've been trying all night not to think about.
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"I suppose, if you're into arrogant and brooding." I reply trying not to reveal too much emotion about it to her. "What do you mean?" she asks. "It's just that he's so moody. You saw it too. I don't know what to say to him. Half the time he left me speechless." I say, remembering how I had managed to stick my foot in my mouth earlier. "And those scars... how do you think he got those?" "No clue, but I'm sure this hasn't been easy for him -- starting a new school in such a small town, after living in Chicago," she tells me. "No, really? Now why didn't I think of that?" I reply sarcastically. "Seriously, Trinity, I think he's crushin' on you," she says brightly. "He is so not crushin' on me. As if." "Whatever. If you're not interested, I'm sure Aimee would gladly step up and show him around school for you. Did you not see her shamelessly flirting with him today at lunch?" "I think Aimee likes Derrick Brotherton." I point out. "I think she just likes to keep her options open. But still, you'd better call dibs or she might beat you to it and move in on him thinking he's fair game," she suggests wisely. "Whatever." I sigh knowing she's right. When Aimee decides she wants to go out with someone, she goes after them. She usually succeeds in catching them, too. Unfortunately, for the object of her affection, once she's caught them she decides she doesn't want them anymore. I guess you could say that Aimee Buckwalter is as fickle as her brother Adam is gay. "So, what do you think his story is?" She asks.
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"I'm not sure what to think about him, Pete," I say remembering the darkness that always seems to be brewing just beneath the surface. "Besides, tomorrow's another day and he'll probably forget all about me by then." "You are such an optimist. I love that about you. Why would he go out of his way to be around you one day and forget you the next?" She asks. "Oh I don't know, the mood thing, maybe? Today was different. I was showing him around school," I say, reminding her of the Outreach Program role I've been assigned. "I see. So after just one day, he knows all there is to know about Disappointment Cove High School. Yeah he is so done with you," she teases. "Oh shut up." I laugh because I know there is truth in what she's telling me. Petri is always the logical one. "Okay, well, I'm going to study for awhile and try to get some sleep tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." "Thanks Pete, night." I say and disconnect the call. Why I can't stop thinking about Logan, I don't know, but I can't. I turn on the TV and try studying my Spanish. That doesn't work, so I get my book from English Lit. I can't focus on that, either. For some reason, relaxing just isn't in the cards. I should be hungry but nothing sounds appetizing. I try to read, but the book doesn't hold my interest. I just end up flipping through the channels randomly on the TV. Restless much? I could meditate but if I can't sit still doing something, there is no way I can sit still doing nothing. I have enough energy I could run laps around the block. That's not a bad idea. Even though I'm out of shape and probably couldn't run from here to the front door without getting
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winded, I loved to run when I lived in St. Louis. When I moved down here, I started feeling sorry for myself and got lazy. Sliding off the bed, I dig through my closet for my trusty, if not dusty, running shoes. Changing into something more suitable for running, I lace up the shoes, strap on my iPod and am out the door. I'm out of shape, but running feels incredible. I used to be able to run a half-marathon without too much effort, but tonight I'd be lucky to make it a mile. Oh well, if it helps my anxiety, I'm all about it. Running always helps clear my head and allows me to concentrate better. I've done some of my best thinking while out running. I run for awhile, not actually paying too much attention to where I'm headed. I just poke along; when I realize that I am right in front of Logan's house. I spot him sitting on the front porch as I get closer. Great. Too late to turn around now. He'll probably think I'm stalking him. "Hey Logan." I call out, stopping to catch my breath. "Trinity? What are you doing?" He asks sounding suspicious by my sudden, unexpected appearance in front of his house. "I had too much energy to relax. I used to run all the time in St. Louis to clear my head, but I guess I got lazy when I moved down here." I admit truthfully. "There's nothing like a good run to help to clear a person's head," he says. "Do you run?" I ask. "I used to." "Used to? You don't run anymore?" "In case you didn't notice, I have enough trouble just walking," he tells me quietly. "Nah, I don't run anymore."
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That's when I remember his limp. Of course. He's probably just waiting for whatever injury he has to heal completely before he starts to run again, I assume. "Well maybe when your leg gets better, we could go running together." I suggest optimistically. "My leg is not ever going to get better, Trinity," he says with a certain resign way about his words. "I'm sorry... I... I didn't realize..." I stutter embarrassed. "Don't worry about it," he pulls himself up to go inside, "I'll see you tomorrow." My feeling like a fool is becoming a habit whenever I'm around him. Way to go Trin, you sure know how to stick that foot into your mouth. I think to myself. Turning around, I jog slowly back home. I should feel more relaxed -- runner's high -- but seeing Logan has only made me feel more on-edge. Why do I always seem to say the wrong things around him?
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Chapter 7 Mr. Magoo, Grandma Sarah's cranky Scottish Terrier, grumbles at me for disturbing him as I roll over in bed. I glance at the alarm clock. What the hell? I normally have enough trouble waking up when the alarm goes off, what am I doing awake at three a.m.? I consider Mr. Magoo suspiciously. As a rule I don't remember my dreams, and I can't remember the last time I had one that woke me from a deep sleep. Most of the time, my dreams are just nonsensical images that float in and out of my awareness leaving bits and pieces of nothing. Usually they're forgotten as soon as the alarm clock buzzes. Fragments of the dream start to seep back into my consciousness bit by bit. I'd been dreaming about Logan. His perfect smile and his intense aqua-blue eyes are etched clearly into my mind's eye. In the dream he was staring at me intently. I can still see the sad look on his face. I don't remember if he said anything, he seemed to be just watching me. I also remember seeing flames. Something was burning; I think it might have been someone's car on fire. I have no clue why I would be dreaming about him. Okay, I take that back. It makes sense that I'm dreaming about him. I haven't stopped thinking about him since he walked into History class yesterday morning. Perfect. It's not enough that I can't stop thinking about him while I'm awake; he has to disturb my sleep time, too? Just peachy. There's no point just laying here worrying about it. I'll think about it in the morning, when it's time to wake up for real. Sliding back down in bed, I cover up my head. Mr. Magoo gets up and moves to the other side of the bed. Apparently, he doesn't think it's time to wake up yet either. At least he doesn't growl at me this time. It takes at least another hour to fall back asleep after the dream. Just as I get comfortable, the alarm blares relentlessly jolting me upright in my bed.
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Squinting, I peer at myself in the full-length mirror. The over-head lights glare off the shiny lavender tiles of the bathroom floor. Oh lovely, dark circles: check. Bloodshot eyes: check. I look like hell. If I didn't scare him off yesterday with my winning personality, the way I look today should just about clinch it. Yet another lucky break in my life. I am not here to impress Logan Sharpe. Besides his mood changes are disturbing. Admittedly, there's not nearly enough time to make myself presentable this morning. Maybe enough time to get myself presentable for something at noon tomorrow, but not today. I hop into the bath tub which has been modernized with a pulsating shower head and take a quick steaming hot shower. Then I get dressed and drive my dragging butt to school. We always meet at the same spot every morning before class. By the big old Oak tree near the south-side of the student parking lot. I am the last one to arrive this morning. Some days, it's Aimee who's spent too much time getting just the right look, that makes a grand entrance -- last. "Wow. Look what the cat dragged in. Geez Trinity, you look like hell this morning," Adam says, clearly noticing my road map eyes. "Thanks Adam. Don't hold back, tell me how you really feel," I tell him, sourly. "Adam's right, death-warmed-over does not become you at all, Trin." Petri adds, for once she's agreeing with Adam at my expense. "Now that we got all the niceties out of the way, let's head inside before the bell rings." Aimee suggests. As we walk toward the front doors of the high school, I glance around for Logan but don't see him anywhere. Maybe he has a free period this morning and slept in like I wish I could have.
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"Looking for someone, Trin?" Petri asks, noticing my apparent indiscreet parking lot survey. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," I frown. "Sure, I believe you... Not," she rolls her eyes. "Clive Bennett is having a birthday party after the football game a week from this Friday night," Aimee tells us as we enter the building. Aimee is our roving reporter with the news from the outside world, otherwise known as the rest of the student body at Disappointment Cove High School. She has connections, as she likes to call working at Cove Caf, the coffee shop/restaurant downtown. It isn't newsworthy if you didn't first hear about it at Cove Caf. "Clive Bennett? Doesn't he live out in the sticks?" Petri asks, leaning on me to adjust her shoe strap. "Petri, get a clue. This whole area is the sticks," I interject. "Well yeah, but I meant he lives off of County Highway YY doesn't he?" She clarifies glancing my way, "That narrow black-top road north of town." "Don't look at me. I barely know where Olive Street is, and I live there," I laugh. "Yeah but I bet you know where Spencer Street is, don't you?" "I think I've been down that way once or twice." "A-hem. So, yeah, anyway, Clive's parent's leave on their annual fall cruise next Wednesday and he's throwing a birthday bash. Everyone's going," Aimee adds reminding us what we were discussing in the first place. "Since he's on the football team, you know the whole team will be there."
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"Yeah and all those oh-so-friendly cheerleaders, too. Sounds like a blast," Petri adds, wrinkling her nose. On that note, we scatter to our respective classes, timing it perfectly so that we plant our butts just seconds before the bell rings. My first class of the day is Art. We've been learning to sketch with pen and pencil. I have a tendency to seriously get into my work to the point of losing track of everything and everyone around me. I wish it were as easy to tune things out all the time. "Is this seat taken?" A male voice from my right asks. Startled by his sudden appearance, my hand goes sailing across the paper, ruining my self-proclaimed masterpiece. I turn to glare at whoever is responsible for nearly causing me wet myself -- though I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Logan smiles at me as if it is a perfectly normal occurrence for him to wander into Art class late and proceed to sneak up on me. Perfectly normal for him to materialize magically out of thin air and scare the living daylights out of me. "Dude. I'm going to hang a cowbell around your neck or something," I tell him, adding, "You're late, by the way." "So now you're saying I'm a cow? I'm crushed," he says grinning at me with a totally wicked smile. "No, I'm just saying that if you had a cowbell around your neck maybe you'd stop sneaking up and scaring me half to death," I tell him, feeling the heat in my face rise, for some reason his closeness has that effect on me. "What, and miss the look on your face when I do? Red's a becoming color on you," he smirks.
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"Ha Ha Ha." I say sarcastically, though in spite of myself, I smile. "Sit down. Pretend you're working on something creative before Mr. Ashley comes over here and we both get in trouble." "Good idea." He slides his chair close to mine so that we are sharing the same work bench. Having him so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body is probably not such a brilliant plan in the middle of class. It makes it extremely difficult for me to concentrate on anything remotely resembling artwork. With every breath, I breathe in his scent. It's a warm, mouth-watering scent reminding me of vanilla mixed with orange. Right now it seems to be affecting my hormones in ways they shouldn't be affected during art class. "Dang it's hot in here," I say and push the sleeves up on my St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt. The corners of his mouth curl up in a lazy grin. It dawns on me he has to be burning up with his hoodie on. "Do you ever take that thing off?" I ask him, pinching the sweatshirt fabric between my thumb and index fingers. "Trying to get me out of my clothes already?" He grins. "I don't believe you just said that," shaking my head, I turn away from him so he doesn't see my face turn from a mild blush to Star-Spangled-Banner-Red. "Sorry. That was crude," he apologizes. "And yeah, I do take it off sometimes like when I go to bed or take a shower." Gah! Thanks for painting that picture. Now all I can think about is him in bed or naked in the shower. Lovely, I think as we continue working on our separate masterpieces in silence for
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the remainder of the class. I continue drawing Mr. Magoo, painstakingly trying to fix the third ear I gave him earlier as my pencil skidded across the paper when Logan startled me. Glancing at his work, I sigh. Among his many talents, add "artistic" to the list. "Is there anything you're not good at?" I ask him, pointing to his paper, where he is just putting the finishing touches on a perfect rose. "Every rose has its thorn," he replies. "Just like every night has its dawn." "Poison." We say at the same time and laugh. "And, there are a lot of things I'm not good at," he answers somberly. The serious side of him is back again. I can't pretend to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I do catch on to things eventually. This is one of the things about Logan that I am beginning to figure out: don't ask any more questions when he gets that look in his aqua-blue eyes. If I'm ever going to understand him, it will have to be one step at a time and on his terms. I can't just ask him every question that goes racing through my head or he will shut me out totally. Of that, I am one hundred percent certain. What is it Babs said? Oh yeah, patience. "Let me guess. You wouldn't by any chance happen to have Chemistry next would you?" He asks gathering his stuff just as the bell rings. "Psychic?" I tease. "Nah, psycho maybe, but not psychic." Frowning at his psycho remark, "As a matter-of-fact, I do have Chemistry next. Let me guess, you also have Chemistry next, right?"
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"You're good. Not just another pretty face, you've got brains too," he says, leaving me at a loss for words.
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Chapter 8 Chemistry is not one of my better subjects. I mean I like the class; it's just that I'm not particularly skilled at it. Sort of like how some people love to sing but can't carry a tune in a bucket. We have our first big lab test at the end of next week and Mr. Fountain is going to match us up according to our skill level. That way we can work on our strengths and weaknesses. In other words, so the smartest of the pair can carry the one that isn't so smart. I already know that I won't be the carry-er, but more than likely I'll be the carry-ee. I get partnered with Jesse Hooker. Jesse is one of the smartest kids in the eleventh grade, so getting paired with him is a good thing. Good for me, not so good for him. I know Mr. Fountain thinks there's no hope for me, and by putting me with Jesse I might just pull it off and not blow the school up in the process. What I know about Chemistry doesn't have much to do with the lab work we'll be doing in the classroom. For me, Chemistry is more like how I feel when I'm standing next to Logan. Speaking of Logan -- I wonder who his partner is. Scanning the room, I find him. Just great. I can't buy a break. He's been paired-up with Rachael Higgins. Dammit to hell. Rachael Higgins is just about the biggest ho-bag in the eleventh grade. No, I take that back, make that the entire high school. I'm not even going to repeat the story about her and the boy's track team. Let's just say that the term "on the track team" takes on a whole new meaning when it comes to Rachael Biggins, I mean Rachael Higgins. Ugh. Just shoot me now! I can't help but notice that she keeps flaunting her best assets -- and why we all call her Biggins -- practically in Logan's face. Not that I'm watching or anything. He seems to be a captive audience. Look at the two of them. He must be hilarious today because she can't stop giggling at whatever it is he was saying. I think I'm going to throw up.
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Technically, I don't have any right to be jealous or anything. It's not as if we're a couple. I mean seriously. I don't even know if I would say we're friends. I'm just the designated one asked to show him around his first week at school. I gave him a ride home. He's managed to make me blush a few times, and I've stuck my foot in my mouth almost every time we've spoken. That doesn't exactly give me grounds for jealousy. Whatever. If Rachael Biggins is the type of girl he's attracted to, I don't honestly think I have anything to offer him. That's his choice and there's not much I can do about it. In fact, I seriously couldn't care less. "Trinity? Yo, Trin." Jesse says, snapping his freakishly long fingers right up in my face to get my attention. "Stop staring at the new guy and stay with me here... focus." Feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, I assure him, "I am not staring. I don't know what you're even talking about." "It's your story princess, make it a good one, but you can retract your claws now." "You don't know anything about anything, Jesse," I glare into his smug face. "Just Chemistry. Which is what we're supposed to be working on," he reminds me. "Besides, Rachael is dating Fletcher Hudson." "Fletcher Hudson? Did he get hit too many times in the head with the football, or what?" I ask, opening my Chemistry book. "Isn't he a little out of her league?" Fletcher Hudson is one of the biggest stars on Disappointment Cove's football team. He has a reputation for living on the edge. He likes to party, and I hear he has a tendency to get a little rough on and off the field. Everyone overlooks his drinking and other shenanigans, because of his talent on the team. Small-town sports at their finest. That and the fact that his dad's some big-wheel with the county.
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Jesse shrugs his shoulders and pushes the glasses up his nose. It suddenly dawns on me that he reminds me of Jerry Lewis in the Nutty Professor, and I suppress a giggle. "He seems to be enjoying the attention from her as much she's enjoying giving it to him." Jesse says, reminding me of the obvious. "Whatever, Jesse. I'm not blind I can see that. Not that I care or anything." Getting up, I rearrange my chair so that my back is toward Logan and Rachael, trying to give Jesse my full attention. Let me be clear, that does not involve looking longingly at him, batting my eyelashes and believing that he has suddenly become the most fascinating person alive. I spend the whole class trying to listen as Jesse explains the topic at hand. I'm reasonably sure he feels as though he's trying to teach math to a monkey. I try my hardest to ignore the giggles coming from Rachael. I am listening to Jesse -- I honestly am -- but the words he's saying sound a lot like that teacher from Charlie Brown. They are going in one ear and right out the other. Obviously, I am too preoccupied with what's going on between Logan and Rachael to absorb much of anything else. I guess Logan is like most guys his age. The attention span of a gnat and forgetting which head contains their brain. Still, I remind myself, I don't have any right to be jealous. No matter how many times I repeat it, it doesn't stop me from thinking it, and most of all from feeling it. "If you want to come over tonight and study, I could probably clear my schedule to tutor you," Jesse suggests. "It's obvious you're not focused on anything I'm trying to teach you here." "What?" I mumble becoming more and more agitated. Agitated with Rachael for hanging all over Logan. Agitated with him for enjoying it so much and most of all agitated with me for caring in the first place. I should have learned my lesson with Marco and Melissa.
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"I said, why don't you come over to my house tonight and we can work on this there were there are fewer distractions?" He repeats slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully as if he is trying to get through to a three-year old who can't hear. "That's probably not a bad idea, but I can't tonight. How about tomorrow night instead?" I ask, knowing I'm definitely not learning anything here. "Come over around six. You know where I live?" "Nope, not a clue." I admit, staring down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. "Five-hundred Belvedere Street. Know where that is?" "I'll find it." I tell him. I mean, how hard could it be? It's not like this is a huge town or anything. Besides there's always Google. "Great. It's a date," he grins like I'm his new best friend. I'm pretty sure I cringe when he mentions the word date, but it's just to study Chemistry. I'm not talking about the chemistry that gets me all weak-kneed, and gives me hot flashes like when I'm next to Logan. I'm talking school work. When the bell rings I dart out the door. I already have my stuff stowed in my backpack. I'm talented that way sensing when the bell is about to ring, sort of like having built-in bell radar. I am out of the classroom in record-breaking time. I have a free period now and I plan on spending it quietly in a nice, dark corner, in the back of the library, reading my English Lit assignment. "Trin, wait up!" Petri calls out from down the hall.
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I wait glancing around nervously, hoping that Logan isn't slinking around somewhere close by. Feeling the slightest twinge of guilt since I am supposed to be showing him around and all. "What's up, Pete?" "Did you just have chemistry?" My stomach hits the floor, how does she know already? I get prepared for her to tell me she told me so, about calling dibs. "Why what did you hear?" I ask defensively. "What? I didn't hear anything," She says, eying me curiously before continuing, "Jeez, Trin, what's up with the 'tude? I just wanted to know if Mr. Fountain gives us our lab partners today." "Yeah he does." "Did you get Logan for your partner?" "No. I got Jesse Hooker." I say dejectedly. Petri looks even more pained by the news than I am. "Eww... that bites. Well, at least he knows Chemistry and should be able to keep you from burning down the school or something," she reminds me, wrinkling up her nose. "So, who did Logan get for a partner?" I want to crawl under a rock right about now, but answer her begrudgingly, "Rachael Higgins." Petri makes a face and smacks her forehead, "That explains the mood." "What mood? There is no mood." I say, clearly in denial.
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"Really? Could have fooled me. I'd be pretty ticked, too. I wouldn't want my boyfriend -if I had one -- partnered up with Rachael Higgins." "He is not my boyfriend." I remind her stubbornly. "Whatever. I'm just sayin,'" she sighs. "Oh well, the bell's about to ring. Gotta run! Talk to you later!" I slip undetected into the quiet of the library and find a nice deserted spot in the back corner where it's less likely I'll be disturbed so I can feel sorry for myself in peace. "I am so not in the mood for this." I mumble to myself, plopping down at a secluded table. "Who are you talking to, and what kind of mood are you in?" Logan asks as he invites himself to sit in the chair across the table from me. Again materializing out of thin air. "Where did you come from?" I ask, ignoring his comment. "Chicago," he says, flashing me his pearly whites. Why does he have to be so damn sexy? Even though half of his face is hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, he is still incredibly hot. Maybe there is something to that whole bad girl - good boy attraction thing. I mean bad boy -- good girl. "I was talking to myself. I carry on entire conversations with myself. I've solved some of life's greatest mysteries by talking to myself." I say, sticking my nose back into my book, doing my best to ignore him. "Who's your chemistry partner?" He asks, reminding me why I'm in such a crappy mood in the first place. "Jesse Hooker." I tell him though I really don't care to discuss it at the moment. "Jesse Hooker? C'mon, that's not his real name."
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"Well yeah. Duh. You can't make stuff like that up." I respond, annoyed by his smug attitude. "Wow, poor guy," he shakes his head. "Aren't you going to ask me who my partner is?" I close my book with a little more force than I intend. "Oh gee, Logan. I would ask, but it was pretty hard to miss who your partner is. I mean with the way she was hanging all over you in class. Anyway, it's none of my business that you're partnered with Rachael Bigg err umm Rachael Higgins." "Is that jealousy I detect?" He grins. Obviously he enjoys this way too much. "Jealous? Don't flatter yourself. I have no reason to be jealous. If you're attracted to her, that's none of my business." I tell him wanting really bad to reach across the table and pull his hood down over his face so that I don't have to see the smug he's giving me. "You are jealous!" I glare at him and shake my head, "Whatever." "It is kinda flattering," he admits with a big grin. "I bet it is. You're really getting a kick out of this aren't you, funny guy?" "Why yes. Yes I am," he laughs. "Fine, real funny. Don't you have someone else you can go annoy right now?" I suggest, though in spite of myself, I feel my mood getting better. When he isn't annoying the crap out of me, or sneaking up on me, he isn't half-bad. "No, but if you want me to leave" "Logan, I don't care what you do." I lie. "I'm crushed." "Oh shut up!" I snap, though in spite of myself I smile discretely.
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We sit in silence for a little while until he reaches across the table with his left hand -- the hand without the scars -- and places it on top of mine. I feel the warmth radiate through my hand and up my arm and resist the urge to jerk my hand away. "Look Trinity, I'm flattered you're jealous, I really am, but you have no reason to be. I'm not the slightest bit interested in Rachael. She's not my type," he tells me. "I am not jealous." I repeat calmly as I try avoiding eye contact and stare at our hands instead. He looks at me long enough to make me start shifting uncomfortably in my seat. The smile has gone from his aqua-blue eyes, and suddenly he seems far away. "Trust me, Trinity; you have no reason to be jealous of Rachael or anyone else, for that matter." I smile feebly back at him, feeling somewhat better than I did before he sat down. "There's an Outreach Program meeting after school today, are you going?" I ask to try and shift the conversation away from the whole jealousy thing. He sighs and sits back in his chair, "I guess. It's not like I have much of a choice." I nod, "I didn't like having to go in the beginning either. But it's not so bad." "Yeah, I bet," he rolls his eyes. "So what are you in for?" "Hmm? Oh. The usual. You know. Skipping school. Underage drinking." I smile at him shyly. "What about you? What are you in for?" "Murder," he snickers when he sees the look on my face. "I'm only messin' with ya. I'll see you at lunch." I smile and nod at him, "I'll be there."
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After talking with him, I feel more at ease though something about his actions still makes me uneasy. I'm usually less than trusting when it comes to the opposite sex, but I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Just because Marco was a jerk and hooked up with my now ex-best friend and just because Daddy Dearest broke up our family for another woman doesn't mean all guys are total scum, I hope.
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Chapter 9 "You have no reason to be jealous? Does that mean you have nothing to worry about because he thinks Rachael's a skank? Or you shouldn't be jealous because he isn't interested in you like that? Details. I mean what exactly did he say?" Petri drills me over lunch while nibbling on her celery stick. "I don't know. I don't remember the conversation word for word. Next time, I'll take notes." I frown as I feel my good mood quickly evaporate with each question she asks. "Well here he comes. Let's ask him," she teases. I give her my best 'If you do I'll break the heels off all of your shoes' glare. "Speak of the devil oh hey Logan. We were just talking about you." Petri greets him with one of her fake smiles and that syrupy-sweet southern drawl she lapses into from time to time. "All good, I'm sure." Logan responds. "Why of course. Trinity was just telling me who ya'll have for Chemistry lab partners." She responds using her best Scarlet O'Hara imitation. I half expect a "fiddle-dee-dee" to roll off her tongue. I mean, I love Petri to pieces, but sometimes I just want to stick a sock in her mouth. Like right now when she seems to be intent on making me want to crawl under the table out of embarrassment. "Some people just have all the luck, I guess," he says. "Rachael's not the brightest star in the sky; she needs all the help she can get," Petri tells him, adding, "there was that rumor about her and the boy's track team, but it's not polite to gossip." I clear my throat loudly. Signaling to Petri that she can shut up any time now, I can handle things from here, thank you very much.
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"Oh sorry, shutting up now," she says, doing the zipper-the-mouth-shut mimic with her hand. Aimee and Adam have joined us at the table and Aimee slides over next to Logan, "Saturday's Petri's seventeenth birthday," she tells him. "We're having a bowling party at Liberty Lanes, why don't you come?" "Yeah it's the one time of the year that Petri takes off her high heels, since they don't rent high-heeled bowling shoes." Adam chides. "I don't take my high heels off when you're around. Afraid you'll steal them for yourself." Petri shoots back. "A-hem," Aimee clears her throat to interrupt the bickering, "so how about it Logan? It starts at four o'clock. It'll be fun." "I won't really know anyone there. I haven't been much in the partying mood lately," he glances away from us. "Hellooo! You'll know everyone there. It's just going to be us four, five, counting you." Petri adds, "it'll be fun, I promise." Logan stands, looking down at me, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" "Sure, of course." I say peering up at him waiting for him to say what it is he wants to say. "Alone?" "Oh! Duh, yeah." I get up and follow his limping stride from the cafeteria out the front doors of the school. "What's up?" I ask him as we come to a stop near the student parking lot.
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"Nothing. I just wanted to spend a few minutes alone with you. It's hard to get a word in with your friends around." "Yeah I know. They mean well. But sometimes they can be too much," I say, adding, "you should come with us Saturday night." "I might go for awhile and watch, I guess." He looks down, "I haven't been bowling since before the for a long time." "You don't have to bowl. You can be my moral support. I suck at bowling." "It might be fun just to watch you bowl." He grins. "Oh yeah? Well even though I suck at bowling, I'm actually better than those three." I say, pointing my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the school. "I guess I'll go. Fun hasn't been in my vocabulary lately." "We'll change that," I smile. "After bowling, we're going to Happy Jack's Pizza. Where they put a stupid hat on the victim, err the birthday girl, and everyone sings happy birthday. Petri warned she'll kill us if we even think about it, and of course, you know we'll do it anyway." I laugh. "Sounds even better," he says, his aqua-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. We talk quietly for a few minutes before going back into the school. I'm comfortable around him, but I am also undeniably attracted to him. It's only awkward when I say something to make him uncomfortable, sticking my foot in my mouth unintentionally. Maybe someday he'll be as easy to talk to as he is to look at. "Meet me by my locker after your last class. I'll show you where we need to go for the Outreach Program meeting," I suggest. He sighs and looks down at his feet, "Okay, see ya."
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Chapter 10 After my last class I wait by my locker for Logan. My stomach does a funny flip when I spot him making his way down the hall toward me. "Hey," he says softly. "Hi ya. Ready?" I ask, and he nods in response. We walk down the nearly deserted hallway in silence to the guidance counselor's office. Logan and I are the last to arrive. There are only six of us here today. The school guidance counselor is Annette Gilmore. She prefers to be called Annette, not Mrs. Gilmore. It's less formal, she had told us in the beginning. "Trinity, Mrs. Akers called and she needs you as soon as possible. She asked that you bring along another volunteer today," Annette tells me. "Okay," I respond. I've never really even talked to any of the other Outreach Program kids. I glance at Logan silently willing him to speak up and offer to come with me. "I'll go," he says quietly. "Good Logan, that will be great," she smiles at him. "You two go ahead. Beverly sounded frantic." My eyebrows draw together in a frown, but I don't wait for an explanation. I turn toward Logan and put my hand on his arm motioning for him to come with me. "Thanks Mrs. Gilmore," I call back over my shoulder. "Annette," she corrects as the door closes behind us. As we head for my car, I explain to Logan who Beverly Akers -- Babs -- is and where we're going. "I hope you like dogs," I tell him.
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He grins, a mischievous twinkle in his aqua-blue eyes, "I like dogs more than I like most people." Relieved, I smile knowingly and fasten my seatbelt. Pulling down the long lane leading to Akers of Love, we pass three pick-up trucks leaving. There are still several more parked up near the building. Dozens of people are rushing about unloading cages holding dogs from the truck beds and carrying them inside. I parked out of the way and Logan and I spring into action. I don't see Babs in the crowd, so we fall into place helping to remove the remaining cages from the trucks and follow the other people. When we pull the last cage from the truck, I finally spot Babs. I wave to get her attention. When she sees me, a sense of relief eases the worry I see on her face. "Trinity, over here," she shouts above the barking. "Thank goodness you're here." She glances from me to Logan and back again. "Babs, this is Logan. Annette said to bring an extra hand today," I tell her. She extends her hand, "Welcome to chaos, Logan." "What's going on?" I ask motioning around at all the people and cages. "Puppy mill," she shakes her head. "I only have room comfortably for about forty here but over three-hundred were rescued. All ages, shapes and sizes. In various states of health ranging from horrific to pitiful." My throat constricts as I choke back tears. Like Logan, I like dogs more than most people, "What do you need us to do?" I ask. "Follow me," she says and heads toward the large outdoor dog runs. Her long legs quickly carry her across the property. She pulls a long garden hose from the reel where it's
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wound and turns it on, the nozzle hisses in protest against the force of the water. "You wash down the pens," she hands me the hose. "Make sure there's clean water in every one." I nod, already heading toward the pens. "You," she turns toward Logan, "come with me." I watch him limp along behind her, amazed by his ability to keep up with her long-legged stride. They disappear into the building and I get to work on cage detail. After several minutes, I hear the doors to the machine shed clang open and Babs pulls out on a small tractor hooked to a wagon. Lurching to a stop, she hops off and helps Logan stack several large bags of dog food onto the wagon. She motions for him to hop on and drives down to where I am almost done cleaning out the pens. They unload the dog food and stack it inside the small shed next to the cages. Logan and I hop on the wagon and Babs drops us off up beside the office. "We'll temporarily put the healthiest dogs down in the pens you just cleaned for now," Babs tells us as she climbs from the tractor. I walk ahead and unlatch the back fence. The smell nearly knocks me over as we make our way inside past the stacked cages of severely neglected dogs. They are all shapes, sizes, colors and condition. Their hair is badly matted and the small cages are barely big enough for them to stand up in. The smell is awful and I pull the edge of my jacket up over my nose to try to block out the odor. The stench of decaying flesh and feces, rotten teeth and festering wounds. I run for the door, just making it outside before I am violently sick to my stomach. When the wave of nausea passes, I lean over bracing myself with my hands on my knees, just in case.
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Babs puts her hand on my shoulder, "People that do this to dogs should be strung up by their toenails," she chokes out. Her voice strains with emotion. "I couldn't agree with you more," Logan shakes his head from the doorway. I straighten up and try to decide if I'm going to be sick again or if I can handle it. Babs walks past Logan and back inside, soon I hear the unmistakable Woosh as the little-used exhaust fans kick on helping to pull out the odor. We get to work tending to the dogs. Moving the healthier ones down to the pens I cleaned out. Babs examines each one quickly but thoroughly and administers medication. We clean them up as best we can for now. "Where did the others go?" I ask. "The ones you don't have room for here." "Hmm? Oh. They were taken around to other shelters in the area." Babs tells me in between examinations. In a few hours things are somewhat organized enough for us to call it a night. I had called Grandma Sarah earlier letting her know where I was. If Logan called anyone, I didn't notice. Babs gives me a big hug, "I don't know what I would have done without you two tonight." She puts her hand on Logan's back, "Logan, would you like come back and help out again? Trinity and I could sure use the extra hands." "Sure Mrs. Akers, I'd like that." "Call me Babs," her eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiles at him warmly. "I'll see you tomorrow after school. Both of you." We agree and tell her goodnight. I drive Logan home. It's a quiet drive. I can't speak for him, but I just feel numb.
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Grandma Sarah had her Lake and Land Preservation meeting at the town hall tonight and she is busy putting the minutes from the meeting together at the large round oak table when I walk into the kitchen. "Hello honey, how are you holding up?" Grandma Sarah asks, glancing up from her paperwork. "I've had better days," I say as I open the fridge door. "If you're looking for something to eat, there's some leftover spaghetti in that green container there on the bottom shelf," she says noticing that I'm standing with the refrigerator door wide open and have a blank stare on my face. Sometimes, I think that I must have ADD. I mean here I am, standing in front of the fridge zoned out, completely oblivious as to why I'm here in the first place. Space-out much? Jeez. "Oh okay, thanks. I think I'll just make a peanut butter sandwich instead," I close the fridge door and walk over to repeat the same blank stare in the pantry. "Trinity? Are you feeling alright?" Grandma Sarah asks. "Why what do you mean?" I respond looking at her, confusion clouding my face. She sighs heavily and gets up from the table. Walking over and opening the refrigerator door, she extracts my iPod from the top shelf. She hands it to me shaking her head. "Oops! How did that get in there?" I ask sheepishly, taking it from her. "You just put it in there when you decided you would rather have a peanut butter sandwich instead of spaghetti." She points out, shaking her head at me. "Sorry, lot on my mind, I guess," I admit. "I'm going over to Jesse Hooker's house tomorrow night after I help Babs. To study Chemistry."
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"Ok, you won't be too late will you?" She asks, sitting back down at the table to resume her paperwork. "Nah, probably around nine, ten at the latest," I tell her as I grab the peanut butter and bread from the pantry. "By the way, do you know where Jesse lives?" "I believe the Hooker family lives over on Belvedere Street if I'm not mistaken," she tells me distractedly. "Yeah that's it. He told me five-hundred Belvedere Street. Where's that?" I ask as I slather an extra thick layer of chunky peanut butter on two slices of bread. "Do you know where the big Decker Mansion sits?" "Yeah, that's Spencer Street, right?" "Yes, well Jesse's house is on the corner of Belvedere and Spencer." "That shouldn't be too hard to find." I decide, taking a bite from my sandwich. "No, just go down to the end of Olive Street, take a right, Spencer is about three blocks down. You'll take a left on Spencer. Once you see the Decker Mansion, that's Belvedere. Turn right, and Jesse's house is right there, on the right," she recites from memory. "Thanks Grandma Sarah," I say as I join her at the table. "So do you know anything about the new family that moved into the Decker Mansion?" "Not too much, just that their last name is Sharpe. I think his name is Mason Sharpe, he's some big-shot lawyer from Chicago. Apparently they have family here in Disappointment Cove," she says looking up from her paperwork at me curiously. "Why do you ask?" "Logan Sharpe is in some of my classes. He's also in the Outreach Program. He helped me tonight at Akers of Love," I tell her in between bites from my sandwich. "Why would a big shot lawyer move to Disappointment Cove from Chicago?"
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"I hear that Mr. Sharpe is a widower. His wife died in some sort of tragic accident. Her family's from around here. I think she was a Decker, which explains why Decker mansion is occupied again. There are some stories about what happened in Chicago, but you know me. I close my ears to gossip," Grandma Sarah tells me before going back to work on her meeting notes. Her tone indicates she knows more -- maybe a lot more -- but for right now, she's too busy to discuss it further. I do know Grandma Sarah, and what she says about closing her ears to gossip? Yeah, not so much. She loves a juicy story as much as the next person, maybe even more. Since I want to eat my sandwich and relax before going up to shower, I let it drop for now.
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Chapter 11 Wednesday Logan isn't at school and I'm not sure if he'll show up at Akers of Love or not. I hurry over after school, anxious to help with the newly rescued dogs. I know I won't be able to stay as long today since I have that Chemistry "date" with Jesse at six. I open up the back door, my preferred entrance into the Akers of Love clinic. Logan is holding a very frightened, very matted black and white squirming fur ball. His voice is soft as he speaks reassuring words of comfort to the skittish dog. Babs has a large pair of scissors in her hands snipping away chunks of the matted hair. Their backs are to me as I slip inside and they don't see me enter the room. I can tell they've been at it awhile judging by the piles of matted dog fur clumped around their feet. Babs notices me standing there, "Trinity, you're here," she brushes a stray strand of hair from her face with the back of a gloved hand. "Logan and I have been busy this afternoon." "I would have been here sooner but I actually went to school today," I cross my arms in front of my chest and look at Logan pointedly. "I had a Dr's appointment this morning," he responds to my comment but doesn't look at me when he speaks. "It was late when we were done so dad just dropped me off here." "What would you like me to do Babs?" I ask, ignoring Logan. "Would you make sure the dogs down in the kennel have plenty of food and fresh water?" She tells me. "You'll probably need to hose down their pens while you're at it." Feeling like I've been replaced, I mumble an okay and leave them to their work. Once I finish with the dog runs below, I get Lucy for some pool therapy. The sun is sinking low in the September sky and this warm weather won't be around much longer. The more we can take advantage of the outdoor pool, the better.
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At a little before six, I let them know I'm leaving and drive over to Jesse's. Since Logan lives next to Jesse, I offer him a ride, but he says he has a few more things here he wants to take care of and he will find his own way home. When I get to Jesse's house, he answers the door and leads me in to the huge foyer. Glancing around, I wonder to myself if all the houses in Disappointment Cove are this ridiculously large and old. Jesse's house doesn't seem quite as big as the Decker Mansion looks to be, but it is still enormous. He points to the wide open oak staircase, "We'll go up to my room to study. If you're ok with that? I mean you think you can keep your hands off of me long enough to study, right?" "I'll do my best," I answer truthfully, knowing without a doubt he has absolutely no reason to worry. "Good, I don't want to have to turn you down and devastate your fragile ego," he says grinning at me with a mischievous smirk behind his thick glasses. Hoping that he's just kidding, I laugh. Honestly, my being attracted to Jesse Hooker, is something that is so not happening in this lifetime. My becoming a Tibetan Monk has more chance of happening than my thinking Jesse is hot. However, what he lacks in the physical attraction department, he makes up for in the brains department and when it comes to Chemistry he's smarter than probably everyone in our class, which is why I'm here in the first place. Showing me to his ginormous room upstairs at the end of the dark hallway he tells me, "Make yourself at home, I'll just grab us some snacks and something to drink. Is Diet Dew ok?" "Sure." I respond sitting my backpack on the floor near the window. I notice that his bedroom window overlooks the Decker Mansion's fenced-in back yard. The house is all dark and
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deserted-looking except for a solitary light shining in a room up on what appears to be the third floor. The house is so dark and ominous looking. I look around Jesse's room while I wait for him to come back. It's a large room with hardwood floors, as most of these old Victorian-era houses have. They creak beneath my feet as I explore the cavernous space. You can tell so much about a person by the things they kept in their room. Jesse is no exception. Everywhere I look there are books, books, and did I mention books? The walls are covered with shelves filled to over-capacity with books. There are books piled on the floor by the bed. Books on the corner of the desk, a box from Amazon.com on the floor that I presume contains still more books. The books are a wide variety, from Harry Potter to cook books and everything in-between. And I thought I liked books! A large grey parrot in a corner cage sizes me up suspiciously as it prances back and forth on the swaying perch leaning toward me curiously. I'm just about to extend my hand tentatively out to the bird as Jesse comes back into the room. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She bites. Hard, I've got the scars to prove it," he cautions. "Oh!" I squeak, jerking my hand back in the nick of time just as she nudges her beak in my direction. "Ginger doesn't like anyone but me, and sometimes, even that's questionable. My mom keeps telling me to get rid of her; she's so messy and noisy and won't let anyone else near her cage to clean it," he tells me. Walking over to her cage, he sticks his sweatshirt covered forearm toward the bird trying to persuade her to leave her perch. Ginger doesn't seem too interested in leaving her personal space, but she is interested in the piece of banana he offers her.
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"What kind of bird is she?" I ask as I watch her beak tear easily through the banana. "Does she talk?" "She's an African Grey and most of the time I can't get her to shut up," he says absently, "but you're strange, so she probably won't say much." "I'm strange?" I ask, puzzling over his choice of words. "Sorry. I just mean she's not familiar with you, so she might give you the silent treatment. If we ignore her, she'll start showing off." "Nice view," I observe, looking past Ginger out the window toward the Decker Mansion. "That place reminds me of Dracula's Castle," he says handing me a Diet Dew. "It's all dark, except for that single light on up there," I point up to one of the turrets. "Not that I'm looking or anything." "That light?" He glances over my shoulder. "It's always on. I don't know what it is. Even before the Sharpe's moved in, the house was never really empty. I think there's a live-in caretaker." "There's a lot of house there to take care of," I turn away from the window, and grab my chemistry book. "Let's see how much you can teach me about chemistry in three hours, sound good?" "That's the plan ma'am," he agrees cheerfully. Jesse is an extremely adept tutor and by the time nine o'clock rolls around, I don't think my brain can possibly hold any more information. I am in a numb state of information over-load, and my hand is cramped from the note-taking I've done. I feel pretty confident that with a few more tutoring sessions from Jesse, I'll probably be able to pull-off a decent grade on next Friday's labs, with any luck at all. Calling it a night, Jesse walks me to my car.
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"Thanks Jesse, you're a life-saver for helping me with this." "That's what partners are for," he says, opening the car door for me. "I really appreciate your help," I say as I slide behind the wheel of my car. "No problem," he grins. "So, Trin, what's with you and the new guy?" "What do you mean?" I ask raising my eyebrow curiously. "I mean, it seemed like you got pretty jealous over Rachael Higgins being his lab partner," he looks down and shifts nervously from one foot to the other. "Oh that. I don't know what to tell you, Jesse," I shrug. "Yeah I know. None of my business, right?" He says self-consciously as he stares at the ground. "That's not what I mean. I don't know what to tell you because I don't know myself what's up with him." "It's probably none of my business and I don't want to tell you what to do, but I've heard some stories about Logan's past. From when he was in Chicago," he says quietly, glancing back at the dark house. "What kind of stories?" "I heard that the reason they left Chicago was because Logan killed two people. His bigshot lawyer dad got him off and they moved down here where no one knows them." "If he really did kill someone, I doubt very much even the best lawyer could get him off," I say, suddenly shivering. "Besides, don't you think if he were dangerous they'd put him away somewhere rather than enroll him in school here?"
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"Remember OJ?" Jesse glances at me concern tugging wrinkles into his shiny forehead. "And he is in the Outreach Program. So we know he was in some sort of trouble before coming here," "Jesse, I'm in the Outreach Program and I didn't kill anyone... though it might have crossed my mind." I tease, remembering why I live in Disappointment Cove right now rather than St. Louis. "I guess," he shrugs. "I'm sure they're just rumors. You know how people talk," I tell him and close the car door between us. "Thanks again, Jesse."
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Chapter 12 "So, did you talk to Logan?" Petri asks after she fastens her seat belt when I pick her up for school on Thursday morning. "Did I talk to Logan? About what?" I frown. "About coming with us bowling Saturday?" "Oh that," I smile. "Yeah, he says he'll come watch. I'm thinking he just wants to watch me make a fool of myself bowling." "I doubt you'll make a fool of yourself. You bowl better than the rest of us." "Yeah, but that's not saying a whole lot," I laugh. "Why do you insist in parking so far away from the school every morning?" Petri whines as I pull into my favorite parking spot -- the farthest one from the building. "There's less chance of anyone parking next to me out here," I say, adding, "door dings piss me completely off." Adam and Aimee are already here waiting for us this morning. "Hey you two, hurry up." Aimee calls out. "Adam, is that a new color of eye shadow you're wearing?" I tease, "I like it; it brings out the green of your eyes." "Adam! I told you to stop wearing my eye make-up. I just got that color, and I haven't even had a chance to wear it yet." Aimee growls at her brother. "Oh chill out, will ya, I'll buy you some more this weekend," he says, rolling his eyes. "Whatever." Aimee frowns, turning away from her brother to address Petri and me. "Everyone is talking about the party next Friday night at Clive Bennett's house. I think we should go."
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"Well, nobody's invited us, Aim. I mean it's not like we hang out with that crowd." Petri reminds her. "Maybe, but at Cove Caf last night a bunch of the guys were there talking about it and Derrick Brotherton told me that everyone's going to be there, and I should come and bring my friends," Aimee says smugly sounding pretty proud of herself. "Derrick Brotherton? Derrick Brotherton invited you to a party?" Petri asks, peering at Aimee sideways. "Don't sound so shocked," Aimee glares. "Besides, it's not like he asked me out on a date or anything." "I doubt very much I'll be going." I tell them, remembering the last time I went to a party and the trouble that got me into. "Why not?" They ask at the same time. "Because honestly I've got better things to do than hang out with a bunch of under-age drunks," I inform them. "Yeah right, Trin. What better things have got to do? Watch the leaves fall off the trees in your back yard?" Adam asks as he snaps the compact shut, done admiring himself for the moment. "That sounds like it would be about as much fun," I admit truthfully. "Let's just say that hanging out with kids I don't even like when they're sober isn't my idea of a good time, and hanging out with those same kids when they're being drunk and ignorant sounds like even less of a good time." "Well I'm going. Derrick Brotherton is a hottie," Aimee tells us, flipping her dark hair defiantly.
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"Are you going Adam?" Petri asks. "Oh gee. Let me think on that," he pauses dramatically for about two seconds before adding, "yeah that would be a no. Let's just send the gay guy in to a party with a bunch of drunken homophobic football players. I'm with Trinity on this one. Not my idea of a good time." Everyone smiles at Adam knowing he's right, and even though he jokes about it, it still bothers him more than he lets on. Looking at her watch, Aimee tells us, "I'd love to stay out here and chat with you losers all day, but the bell's about to ring and I really can't afford another tardy." As we walk into the school it dawns on me Logan is nowhere in sight again this morning. I wonder to myself if he's coming in today. My morning passes uneventfully, lunch time is here and I still haven't seen Logan. Grabbing an orange plastic lunch tray, I begin to think he's not coming in today. "Did you see Rachael Higgins today?" Aimee whispers as we all sit down to eat our lunches. "Oh.My.God. Yes!" Adam declares theatrically. "Why, what about her?" I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich. "She's got one nasty-ass black eye," Petri tells me as she drowns her lettuce with dressing. Adam leans in motioning with his head toward his left. I follow his cue just in time to see Rachael walk by. She has some really humongous, God-awful looking dark glasses perched precariously on her face. Like that isn't totally obvious. You can hear the not-so-hushed whispers around the lunchroom as the gossip mill starts turning. "Whoa. Whose fist did she run into?" I ask quietly.
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"Well, I hear Fletcher Hudson likes it rough" Adam whispers. "Dude. Are you saying Fletcher Hudson did that to her? That's just crazy," I frown feeling almost sorry for her. I don't particularly like Rachael, but nobody deserves to be treated like that. "Yesterday, you were all ready to put the smack-down on her yourself for stealing your man, and now you feel bad for her? How ironic is that?" Petri points out shaking her head. "That's different, Pete. I mean look at me. I'm barely over five feet and couldn't fight my way out of a wet paper bag. We might not be friends, but I wouldn't wish that on anybody," I say defending myself. "At least it would be more evenly matched than getting sucker-punched by a 245-pound football player," Adam cringes. "No kidding. What's his deal anyway?" Aimee asks. "Who knows? Has anyone seen him today?" I take in everyone around the room making no effort at hiding the fact they are staring at, and talking about Rachael's unfortunate accident. "I don't think he's here." Aimee replies adding, "Boy the coach is gonna shit himself over this." "Just another case of don't ask, don't tell, I'm guessing," Adam points out quietly. "Sometimes, it's better than speculating about the truth," Logan says, startling us all from our huddle around the gossip table. "There you are. I was beginning to think you weren't going to be here again today," I tell him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies sarcastically. "Who were you guys talking about?"
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"You," Aimee teases. Logan shoots her a scathing look, and I tell him, "Rachael Higgins. It looks like she had a rather unfortunate accident." Nodding to where Rachael is sitting. We spend the rest of the lunch period quietly eating. No one has much to say, but we all have our own personal opinions on the subject, I'm sure. Secretly, I think Fletcher Hudson needs his ass handed to him by someone his own size.
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Chapter 13 TGIF. The week passes quickly helping Babs with the puppy mill rescues. Logan seems right at home at Akers of Love and coming out of his shell a little more. I enjoy having him around and I know Babs is grateful for the work he's done with the animals. I try not to listen to the rumors about him or what they say happened in Chicago, though it's hard to miss the whispers and the way people stare when he walks by. The opinions clearly show on their faces. What these small-minded people think shouldn't matter to me but I can't help but feel a little uneasy; I mean what do I really know about Logan? Nothing. But you know what they say about opinions. Just after the final bell, I walk around the corner in the hallway and see Logan talking with Amanda Taylor; I feel my stomach fall somewhere down between my Nike's. I know I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does so I decide to vacate the building before he notices me and start heading across the nearly empty parking lot toward my car. "Are you just going to leave without saying anything?" Logan calls out from behind me. Busted, I stop walking but don't turn around, "You looked occupied and I didn't want to interrupt." "Trinity I thought we talked about this whole jealousy thing of yours already," he sighs putting his hands firmly on my shoulders. "What? I'm not jealous, Logan. Really." I lie, trying to convince us both, while giving my best 'believe me, even though I'm lying' smile. "Good," he says. Apparently believing me for now, he drops the subject. "Are you coming to Akers of Love today?" I ask. "I have some things to do at home. I can't," he shifts uncomfortably and kicks at the gravel. "But I won't be busy all night... I mean in case, if you want to hang out later."
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I contemplate my next move for a whole five seconds before my mouth does one of those speak-before-you-think things, "Do you want to come over and watch movies at my house tonight?" "Sure. I'd love to," he flashes me one of his polar icecap-melting smiles. "Do you like Chinese food? I can pick you up when I'm done working and we can stop at Stir Crazy and grab some take-out. I mean we could have pizza, but we're having that tomorrow night for Petri's birthday, and you probably don't want to eat that two nights in a row." I babble nervously. "Chinese is okay," he shrugs. "But pizza two nights in a row doesn't bother me. I can eat pizza every night of the week and have leftovers for breakfast." "Well it's up to you," I smile. "We can always decide later. Get in; I'll give you a ride." When we get to his house I dig through my backpack for something to write my phone number on -- probably my Spanish notes -- and hand it to him, "Here's my phone number. I'll pick you up about six, if that's okay. If something comes up, you can call me, k?" "Okay. Oh, and Trinity?" He pauses and gives me a sideways grin, "No chick flicks, ok?" "No chick flicks? Well forget it then," I tease. "I'll see you later." I watch him limp toward his front porch. Limp or no limp, he looks damn good in those jeans. I'm talking really good. I mean so good it makes me wonder what he'd look like out of those jeans. I blush at the thought in spite of myself. *** "Hey Babs, I'm here," I call out entering through the back door to the clinic. "In here, Trinity." I follow the sound of her voice and find her by Lucy's cage, only Lucy isn't here.
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"Where's Luce?" Babs turns to me and a big smile slides across her face, "Lucy has a new forever home. She left earlier today." I should be happy. It's good news. Dogs like Lucy, Special Needs dogs, aren't easy to find forever homes for. Like I said, I should be happy, but truthfully, I'm a little sad she's gone. "Oh. That's good. I guess." I choke out. "Come on. Of course it's good. You should be happy for her. You know as well as I do, it's hard to place dogs like Lucy. She'll be in good hands at the Rockwell Farm." Babs reaches over and slings her arm over my shoulder. I know the Rockwell Farm. It's about five miles further out in the country, south of Akers of Love. Lucy will have plenty of places to explore and her own pond to swim in. "You're right. I'm just going to miss her." "Well, there are plenty of other kids here that need our love, Trinity," she takes my hand and smiles. "Come with me; I have something to show you." I follow her into another room which is filled, wall-to-wall with some of the dogs that were brought here from the puppy mill. Babs leads me over to a large cardboard box in the corner containing a small, obviously pregnant, white dog. "Abby here is going to be giving birth very soon," Babs reaches in and strokes the timid dog's head. "Thankfully, they'll be born here instead of that filthy puppy mill." "How soon do you think?" I lean over the top of the makeshift nest to look at Abby. "Any time now, I would guess." "What kind of dog is she?"
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"A West Highland White Terrier, a Westie," she tells me. "This will be her last litter. No more 'assembly line' breeding for this little girl." I shake my head and sigh, "So sad, the way people treat animals." Babs nods in agreement and we get to work tending to the other dogs. Unwrapping and rewrapping bandages. Administering medications. Giving them fresh water and food. As much as I want to pick them all up and love them, after what they've been through, they really don't trust humans at all. I can't say as I blame them. "Where's Logan tonight?" Babs asks. "He said he had some things to do at home." "I like that boy. He's a good kid. Hard worker." I smile, "Yeah, he has his good points..." "Why do I sense a 'but' coming here?" She pauses from what she's doing staring at me, waiting for my answer. "It's just this is a small town and you know how people talk," I shrug my shoulders. "Sometimes I'll say something and he takes it the wrong way and gets all moody and quiet. I don't know how to deal with that. I guess I take it personally." "I'm usually a pretty good judge of people, Trinity. My advice to you is not to believe everything you hear when it comes to Logan. Or anyone else, for that matter," she waves her arm around the room in a sweeping manner. "Like these guys, Logan's past may be unknown, but with a little TLC, I'm betting the future will be a whole lot better." "I really don't know anything about him. For all I know, the things people are saying could be true."
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"Since you have so many questions, you should probably talk to him about what's bothering you before jumping to any conclusions," she suggests. "Oh now there's a novel idea. Why didn't I think of that?" I tease. "I'm just saying don't let your insecurities keep you from trying to get him to open up. Don't expect him to just drop all those walls and start baring his soul without a little coaxing." "I know. I know. You're right. As usual," I sigh. By the time we finish, I have just enough time to run home and get cleaned up before I go get Logan.
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Chapter 14 When I get home, I hear Grandma Sarah's shower running. She'll be leaving soon to go play cards at the Monroe's with her friend Jake Ferguson. The way Mr. Magoo is watching me; I decide to take him out for a quick walk down the street and back. "Wanna go for a walk buddy?" I ask grabbing his leash; already knowing the answer to that question. He's always gung-ho when we start these little jaunts around the neighborhood, but he tires out way before I do. If I'm not careful, he'll plant his furry black butt on the ground like a mule and refuse to go another step, and I'll end up carrying him. That happened to me once shortly after I moved here, and trust me -- it was the first, and last time. We have this squirrel in our front yard that loves teasing poor Mr. Magoo relentlessly, and if I don't have a firm hold on the leash, he'd jerk free from me, going after that squirrel. I don't know what he'd ever do if he ever caught it. I like this old neighborhood. The streets are tree-lined, and there are only a handful of over-sized houses with ginormous, well-manicured lawns. We live at the end of the street, and if people drive down as far as Grandma Sarah's house, they're either visiting her, or turning around in the driveway because they've taken the wrong turn or missed their intended destination. Petri lives at the opposite end of the street from me. In the middle of the street, on the left side, there's this one old house that sits a little farther away from the sidewalk than all the others. The yard is fenced in, and there's a padlock and No Trespassing sign on the gate. The house looks pretty rundown, and it's overgrown from years of neglect. Grandma Sarah told me once that it had been the home of Dr. Kriebstein, a dentist. Apparently, he had terminal cancer and
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decided to take his life before the cancer got the chance and he hung himself in the house's grand ballroom. Kriebstein Manor was once the site of all kinds of parties and community events. Mrs. Kriebstein was quite the social butterfly back in the day. Grandma Sarah mentioned being in the stately home a few times as a young woman. The house has been sitting vacant for years and is likely to stay that way for many more from the sound of things. The estate is locked in a bitter dispute between family members and no one can agree to disagree about what to do about it. I'd love to get inside there someday. "What a waste, eh Mr. Magoo?" I ask the apathetic little squirrel hunter. "C'mon. Let's get back home before Grandma Sarah leaves." Turning around, I pause and glance back over my shoulder at the big old house one more time before breaking into a slow jog heading home. Much to Mr. Magoo's dismay, we're moving too fast for him to investigate every stray leaf blowing in the breeze. Did I mention that he can be a lazy dog with highly selective hearing and a definite mind of his own? Grandma Sarah tells me it's because he's a Scottie. I tell her I think it's because he's spoiled. "Grandma Sarah?" I call out as I enter through the front door. "In here," she answers from the kitchen. "Where were you? I thought I heard you come in earlier." "I did. I just took Mr. Magoo for a little walk down the street," I tell her. "What do you suppose they'll ever do with the Kriebstein place?" "I don't know. It will probably just fall down in a heap one of these days from neglect. It's becoming an eyesore, truth be told," she tells me wiping down the already spotless counters.
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"Seems like such a waste. I can't imagine the family just letting it go like that," I shake my head in disgust. "It is a waste. It's a damn crying shame is what it is," she says angrily. "I don't know what anyone can do about it, though." "Me either," I say quietly. I notice her cotton-white hair is pulled loosely back with a bright green silk scarf that matches the green of her blouse. "You off to play cards with Mr. Ferguson tonight?" "Oh yes. We never miss our Friday night cards," she beams with a twinkle in her pretty emerald eyes. "Well, have fun. I'm going to grab a shower. I hope you don't mind, I invited Logan Sharpe over to watch movies," I tell her as I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge. "What time will he be here?" She asks. "I'm going to pick him up around six," I answer opening my soda. "You're picking him up? Doesn't he drive?" She glances my way curious. "No Grandma Sarah, he doesn't have a driver's license." "No license, how old is he?" "He's seventeen." "He's seventeen and he doesn't have a driver's license? Don't you find that a bit odd?" She comments watching me. "I don't know. I guess." I shrug. I've wondered about it myself, but I guess he has his reasons, and when he wants me to know, he'll explain. It's not like it's a big deal anyway.
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"Okay, well, be careful. We shouldn't be too late," she calls after me as I make my way toward the back stairs. "I will." I shout over my shoulder, shedding my clothes along the way. After my shower I stand in front of the closet wrapped in a thick purple towel trying to figure out what to wear. This is my first "date" with Logan. Come to think of it, this is my first date with anyone in a long time. I pull the purple sweater my mom gave me last year for Christmas out of the closet and hold it up in front of me, "Eww." I say and wrinkle up my nose. I reach for my favorite purple hoodie instead. I guess I should go shopping tomorrow before Petri's party and buy some new clothes I decide and grab my long-sleeved Bite Me T-shirt instead of the hoodie. I hold it up in front of myself and check out my reflection in the full-length mirror. "That's better, but only slightly," I tell myself. I slip the shirt on over my head and wiggle into my favorite pair of Levi's. Turning around, I look in the mirror at my best asset. Not bad, I tell myself. Since I keep my hair short, it dries in a snap. I wear very little make-up, just a hint here, a touch there, and I'm good to go. I pull on my boots; they are the closest thing to high heels I own. Unlike Petri, who probably has at least forty-two assorted pairs of shoes, my shoe collection is rather limited. Surprisingly, I'm not that nervous as I run down the stairs and out the door. Getting into my car, I check myself one last time in the rear-view mirror. Satisfied, I back out of the driveway and I'm on my way.
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Chapter 15 I pull up in front of Logan's house, and except for the porch light and that same light in the thirdfloor window, the house is dark. He's sitting on the front steps waiting for me. The passenger door creaks open and he slides into the passenger seat. I notice he has a grocery bag under his arm, "What's in the bag?" "Movies. You didn't think I was going to take the chance and let you pick the movie did you?" He grins eyeing me for a reaction. "Damn. I had the whole night planned out, too. First, we were going to watch Walk to Remember, followed by Notebook, and if there was time, I thought we'd watch my personal favorite, Mystic Pizza," I tease. "Ugh!" He moans and makes a gagging noise as he mocks sticking a finger down his throat. "Although, maybe, just maybe, I might be able to tolerate Mystic Pizza, Julia Roberts was kinda hot in that one, but the others -- not so much." I roll my eyes at him, "Oh okay so what movies did you bring?" "Have you seen the Underworld series?" He asks and holds up a DVD case depicting a woman silhouetted against an extremely large full moon. "Not yet, but it looks like Im about to," I smile. "So, do you want to stop at Stir Crazy or just order a pizza when we get home?" "Pizza sounds good, if that's ok with you. I mean I should probably let you get some say in what we do tonight," he says with a cocky grin on his face. "Some choice? I'm letting you spend the evening with me, aren't I?" I tease, before agreeing. "Pizza it is." I'm thinking to myself, he probably shouldn't be looking at me the way he's looking at me, because it makes me think about having him all to myself, in more ways than one. I feel
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myself blush and quickly turn to look out the window, hoping he doesn't notice... but of course, he does. "The thought of pizza makes you blush? I mean, you're fogging up the windows." When we get to Grandma Sarah's, Logan and I watch the large flat screen in the game room. It's nice being close to him as we sit on the large off-white leather sectional. He's warm, and smells so good. Too good. I find myself distracted by his closeness and try not to think about how much I'd like for him to kiss me. I'm also thinking if he doesn't hurry up and just do it, I might kiss him first. "Do you want something to drink?" I ask standing to stretch when Underworld is over. "Diet Coke if you have one," he says. "I'll put Underworld: Evolution in." "Sure, be right back." The idea of my initiating a kiss crosses my mind and I mutter to myself, "I'm thinking about it." "Thinking about what?" Logan asks, startling the bejesus out of me. I drop the cans of Diet Coke I'm holding. Logan is standing right behind me, so close I feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. "Logan! You scared the crap out of me!" I scream at him as if he's just caught me doing something I'm not supposed to be doing. "Sorry. I thought you heard me come in, and when you said you were thinking about it, I assumed you were talking to me and not to yourself again," he says, laughing at the flushed look on my face.
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I don't know if my face is red because he's startled me and I dropped the sodas, or because of what I was thinking or by the closeness of his body to mine. At the moment, I'm really glad he can't read my mind. "I meant I was thinking about grabbing a piece of cold pizza," I lie, pleased with my quick thinking. "Oh, is that all?" He asks, peering at me sideways. "I was kinda hoping you were thinking about taking advantage of me." My mouth drops open and I look at him incredulously. Crap. Maybe he actually can read my mind "As if," I respond retrieving the sodas from the kitchen floor, pointing to the pizza box, "Grab that, will you? Make yourself useful." Instead of grabbing the pizza box, he takes the cans of Diet Coke from my hands and puts them on the table. Gently, he pulls me up close and personal. When I remember to breathe, I recognize his familiar scent of vanilla and oranges. "No, seriously. I was hoping you were thinking about taking advantage of me," he whispers suggestively. Then, just like I've wanted him to do all night, he places his lips gently on mine and kisses me. I'm pretty sure I know what all those romance novels mean by seeing fireworks and right about now, all the clichs in the world could never come even close to describing how his kiss is making me feel. It's a good thing he has his arms around me; otherwise my legs -- which are threatening to give out -- might let me down literally.
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When he stops kissing me, he puts his forehead on top of my head and I look up searching into his downcast aqua-blue eyes. I see a dark sadness buried there, is it regret that I see, or something else? He looks down and away from me, not meeting my gaze. I reach up to brush a lock of dark hair from his face. My mind wanders to the scars that cover the right side of an otherwise perfectly gorgeous guy. Unconsciously, I trace my index finger softly along the outline of the angry looking scar tissue. "What happened?" I ask quietly. "Don't," he says harshly and pulls abruptly from my touch. "I don't want to talk about it." Turning away from me, he picks up the pizza box and leaves me standing alone and confused. "Sorry," I mumble and pick up the sodas to follow him back into the game room. We watch the second movie in an awkward silence. The comfort we shared earlier has all but evaporated and the sullen side of Logan has appeared again. I haven't seen him like this in awhile. Either he's in one of his moods or he thinks I'm a horrible kisser. Not wanting either, but hoping that if it has to be one or the other that it's his mood and not that I've lost all of my kissing skills. Granted, I am a bit rusty, but how bad can it be? When the movie ends, he stands up yawning and says, "I'd better get home." "Sure, I'll grab my keys," I offer. We ride the few blocks to his house in silence. When we get there I ask, "What's wrong, Logan?" "Nothing, Don't worry. It's not you, it's me," he whispers hoarsely. "I'll see you at Petri's party tomorrow night?" I ask, unable to force myself into look at him.
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"Umm yeah. Sure I'll see you," he says and limps slowly up to the house. That sucks. I mumble to myself. He used the dreaded, 'It's not you, it's me' line that everybody uses when they want to break up with someone and spare their feelings. I dry the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. We were getting along so good tonight until the kiss. Is it my breath? Pepperoni will do that.
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Chapter 16 The sun shines through the narrow space between the heavy drapes into my eyes. Somewhere, my cell phone is rings, rousing me from a fitful sleep. Hopping out of bed, I grab the phone. "Hey Aimee, what's up?" I ask, yawning. "Hi Trin, Adam and I are going to the mall to get Petri something for her birthday. You wanna come with?" She sounds a whole lot more chipper than I feel this early on Saturday morning. "Yeah, I want to get something new to wear tonight," I tell her, throwing my arms up to stretch. "K. We'll be over in about an hour to get you, is that ok?" "Yep, I'll be ready when you get here." I say, already sliding out of my pajamas. No sense moping around about Logan. I don't have enough time for a shower before they'll be here, so I throw on something clean from my sparse wardrobe, splash a little water on my purple-black hair, wipe the sleep off my face, add some eye make-up, and I'm good to go. When Aimee pulls into the driveway in her Sangria Red Ford Fusion, Adam's riding shotgun. When they stop, he gets out parking his lanky frame in the back, giving me the front. "Hey guys." I smile, climbing in the car. "Hola Chica." Aimee says brightly. Adam doesn't have much to say during our ride to the mall, preferring to listen to his iPod over our chatter. "So did you see Logan last night?" Aimee asks.
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"Yeah, he came over. We watched a couple of movies, and ordered pizza." I said, not volunteering any more info than necessary. I don't feel like getting into the whole story this morning. "Oooh, details, spill it." She giggles, peering at me intently. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I say, waggling my eyebrows. She gives me a sidelong glance, "Well, duh... that's why I asked!" "Nothing. Seriously," I say hoping I sound like it was just like any other night in my life and no big deal. She looks at me curiously and opens her mouth to say something, but stops. "What?" I ask. "Nothing. I mean you know how people like to talk." "What God-awful act did he commit this time?" I say and roll my eyes. "They're saying stuff about him being drunk and causing an accident that killed a couple of people," she shrugs. "That's better than what they were saying," I glance out the window as we pull into the mall parking lot. "I mean at least they're saying it was an accident now." "Have you mentioned anything to him about it?" "No." "You should probably find out the truth. I'd want to know if I were you," she maneuvers her car easily into a parking spot at the very edge of the lot. "Jesus, Aimee. You know parking way the hell out here in outer Klopstockia won't keep your car from getting door dings. We'll come out, and the biggest pile of crap will be parked right next to you -- just to piss you off," Adam whines, pulling himself from the back seat.
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"Outer Klopstockia? Whatever, Adam," Aimee says, glaring at her brother, "Let's go shopping!" I smile at their bickering knowing from personal experience Adam's probably right. Still, I don't blame Aimee one bit; I would do the same thing if I had a nice car to worry about getting door dings. The three of us pitch in to buy Petri a gift set of her favorite perfume -- Ralph Lauren Romance -- and have it gift wrapped. With that task out of the way, we go clothes shopping. Designer-this, designer-that doesn't describe what I generally wear. I'm satisfied with a greatfitting pair of Levis and a hoodie, which is exactly what I end up buying. I decide to be a little daring and buy a pair of black skinny jeans instead of the usual faded blue I normally wear. "Logan's coming tonight, right?" Adam asks as we sit in the crowded food court eating our lunch along with the hordes of other people who have obviously decided this is an excellent time to eat their lunches as well. "Yeah, he said he'll be there," I shrug my shoulders trying to keep the conversation short and sweet. "You're not riding together?" He asks glancing at me surprised. "No, I don't think so." I shake my head and stick another chicken nugget into my mouth. Shrugging, they exchange glances. It's clear they think it's strange Logan and I were together last night, and we aren't going to Petri's party together tonight. I guess they got the hint I honestly don't think it's a big deal, to drop it, and they do. Even if I wonder the same thing. "Fletcher Hudson came in to Cove Caf last night after the game with some of the football team," Aimee wrinkles up her nose in distaste. "Something about that guy just creeps me out."
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"Maybe because he's creepy?" Adam suggests, wiggling a greasy french fry in his sister's face like a worm. We laugh. Adam's right about Fletcher. Everyone thinks he's just a little too stuck on himself. That and the fact he gave Rachael Higgins that black eye. Adam suddenly starts coughing as if he is choking on his soda. "Shit!" He says pointing, "Don't look now, but look over there." Aimee and I follow the direction of his gaze and it's immediately obvious what he's telling us to look -- but not look -- at. "Oh shit is right," Aimee whispers. "Awkward." All eyes are on me waiting for my reaction. I can think of nothing to say. It's one of those rare occasions when I find myself speechless. After a brief silence, I realize my mouth is hanging open and I try to regain my composure. Having lost my appetite suddenly, I excuse myself from the table and make my way to the nearest restroom. I saw him, but I damn sure don't want him to see me. There he was, coming out of American Eagle Outfitters. Logan. Which in itself would be nothing to get upset about, right? The disturbing thing is that he was completely preoccupied with his companion. His companion who just so happens to be an extremely pretty, very tall, ultra-skinny blonde with endless legs, and oh-so-perfect-make-me-sick-everything. Watching as she locked her arm through his and smiled up at him sweetly caused me to nearly lose my halfeaten lunch. That might help explain his sudden cold shoulder last night after our kiss. He must have gained a conscience... in place of his lack of judgment for being at my house alone with me in the first place.
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"Damn, damn, damn!" I curse under my breath. When I'm able to pull myself together enough to walk out of the restroom, Aimee and Adam are right outside the door waiting for me with my things. "Maybe there's a perfectly logical explanation," Aimee offers. "Yeah right. Things seem pretty obvious to me," I mutter. "Here's your purse." Adam says handing it to me. I shake my head disbelievingly, trying to figure out what the heck has just happened. Though right now, it seems pretty clear. "C'mon, let's just head back to Disappointment Cove. It's not like I own him or anything." I say, trying to convince them and myself at the same time. "We've got a party to get ready for!" "You're taking this better than I would. I would have walked right up and got in his face and asked, 'Hi Logan, who's your friend?' You know me," Aimee says. "Yeah I know you. I know you would have, but that's not me," I admit quietly, hating the fact that it sucks to be me right now. "You just make sure that you look extra hot tonight girlfriend. You want me to come over and help you with your make-up?" Adam offers. He's trying to be cheerful about a totally noncheerful situation. "Oh I doubt he'll even show up tonight," I reply, remembering that conscience thing. "He wouldn't dare, right?"
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Chapter 17 I think about taking a short power-nap when we get back, but I know there's no way I'll ever be able to fall asleep, not as wound up as I am. With my nerves on edge and my stomach in knots, I am an absolute mess. I try to reassure myself that in spite of everything, I will have fun tonight, but frankly, I'm not so sure the word 'fun' even belongs in my vocabulary anymore. Taking a long hot shower, I shave my legs and double-condition my hair. If I don't pamper myself, who will? I need some TLC, and since I obviously can't count on anyone else to give it to me, I do it myself. Slipping into my new clothes, and taking some extra time getting ready, I hope I look better than I feel. You just never know who you might run into out and about on a Saturday night. Looking semi-fabulous is a priority. Grabbing my cell phone, I notice that I have a missed call from Logan. He didn't bother leaving a message and probably just called to say he wouldn't be there tonight. Lame. As if I care. Who am I trying to fool? I care, even if right now I wish I didn't By the time I arrive at Liberty Lanes, Aimee and Adam are already there with Petri. They all give me their best "I'm-so-sorry-about-Logan" look when I join them at the table. "I'm fine you guys, really. Don't worry about me. Let's just have fun. It's Petri's party." I smile, trying to conceal the misery I feel inside. "Well here's your chance to prove it," Aimee nods toward the entrance with a not so subtle toss of her dark hair. Everyone stops mid-sentence and turns to look. "Oh.My.God!" Adam exclaims, glancing at me for a reaction.
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Standing by the entrance in all his hotness is Logan. Damn, why does he always have to look so hot? I mean seriously, that turquoise shirt he's wearing intensifies his incredible aquablue eyes. Unfortunately, standing next to him is the equally impressive legs-up-to-here blonde from the mall earlier. "I'm sorry, but did I miss the part where we all thought Logan was supposed to be your date Trin?" Petri hisses at his lack of tact. I just shrug my shoulders because at the moment I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to choke anything coherent out of my suddenly-too-dry mouth. It's hard not to stare at the two of them as they make their way through the crowded bowling alley to our table. Talk about awkward. "Hey everyone. Happy birthday, Petri," Logan smiles and hands her a small box with a bow on it. "Hi Logan, you shouldn't have," Petri glances from him, to his date, and back again. I'm pretty sure she means that he really shouldn't have brought a date to her birthday party. Rude. "It's nothing, really. Kyla helped me pick it out today," he smiles affectionately at his blonde companion. "So Logan, who's your date?" Aimee blurts out while I pretend I'm looking for something I didn't drop under the table. "Everyone, this is my cousin, Kyla Decker. I hope you don't mind me bringing her with me," Logan smiles. "I thought it would give her a chance to meet you guys."
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Whoa. His cousin? Really? Back up a minute. Rewind. Let me make sure I heard that right. His cousin. Suddenly, I feel the urge to laugh hysterically. Everyone at the table follows my lead as Logan and Kyla exchange confused looks. "I'm so sorry, Kyla. We're not laughing at you. I guess you had to be there," I say offering her my hand. "I'm Trinity Alexander, and it's very nice to meet you." "Trinity?" She glances tentatively at Logan then back to me. "Logan has told me so much about you. I'm really happy to meet you!" "All good things, I hope." Pointing around the table to each person respectively, "That's Adam and Aimee Buckwalter, and the birthday girl is Petri Wallace." "Are you from Chicago, too?" Petri asks the Barbie-Doll-looking young girl. "No, we live in Springfield. At least for right now. We're moving to Disappointment Cove in a couple of weeks," Kyla informs us shyly. "Oh lucky you," Adam rolls his eyes. "Come on, Adam, it's not that bad," Aimee interjects. "Where will you be living?" I ask, as if I know the whole town intimately. "I'm not sure of the exact address. All I know is that it's somewhere on Olive St," she tells me. I nearly spit out the Diet Coke I've just taken a big gulp of. "Olive Street? I didn't realize there were any houses there for sale." "Oh you know the street then?" She asks me. "Yeah, I live in the big pink Victorian at the end of Olive St. Which one is yours?" I ask, mentally trying to recall if I'd seen any realtor signs. "The big, dark, haunted-looking one," she rolls her pretty blue eyes. "Kriebstein Manor."
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I must be looking at her as if she's from another planet because she glances down and away from me self-consciously. "I just asked my Grandma Sarah about that house," I tell her. "I think it's awesome someone's going to be living there again finally." Logan eases down next to me, and we attempt to set up semi-fair bowling teams. "I'm not so sure you'll want me on your team," he protests quietly. "I haven't been bowling since well for a long time." Petri reaches over and pats him on the arm, "You'll do just fine hon. Trust me, we're not that great." "Speak for yourself, I happen to be a pretty darn good bowler, I'll have you know," Adam says sharply as he searches for the perfect bowling ball. "The only fair thing to do would be draw numbers," I suggest. Logan, Adam and I end up on one team, with Aimee, Petri and Kyla on the other. We bowl three games, and though it's close, we wind up beating them by a few pins. This is the most fun I can remember having in a very long time. "I cannot believe you thought Kyla was my girlfriend that's just wrong," Logan says shaking his head. "Well wise-guy, how was I supposed to know she's your cousin?" I point out. Poking him in the chest, "I thought maybe you prefer blondes." "I do, but sometimes we have to take what we can get," he teases, flinching away from me as I try to punch him playfully in the arm. "Such a funny guy," I laugh. Changing the subject I ask, "You're related to the Kriebstein's?"
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"Sort of, I guess. Kyla's mother was a Kriebstein. Her father and my mother were brother and sister." "I see. Just so you know, I'd love to go through that house. I mean after they get all settled in, of course." "I'm sure you'll get the chance. Kyla's mom wants to have it ready by Christmas, carrying on the Kriebstein tradition of throwing a big party," he shakes his head. "Hey, are you guys ready to go get pizza?" Petri interrupts, before I can ask more questions about the house. Since Logan and Kyla rode to the bowling alley with Kyla's mom, they ride with me to Happy Jack's. Petri warns everyone as soon as the hostess seats us that if we so much as think about mentioning her birthday, she'll kill us. Emphasizing that she does not, under any circumstances, want to put on a ridiculous looking hat and have "Happy Birthday" sung to her in front of God and everybody. We assure her that we'd never do that, even though Adam's already secretly set it up. Honestly, she'd really be disappointed if the evening went by and no one sang for her, we know her protests are just a feeble attempt at a cover-up. Afterwards, I give Logan and Kyla a ride to Logan's house. Dropping the two of them off in front, he leans over and kisses my cheek before getting out, "Night Trin, I had a really good time. See you at Akers of Love tomorrow." "It was really nice to meet you Trinity, thanks for the ride," Kyla smiles from beside Logan. "You're welcome. I had a great time. Night!" I wave before driving off.
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Chapter 18 Sunday morning comes crashing in around me in the form of someone's footsteps stomping across the roof over my head. "What the heck?" I throw back the quilt and go to the window to see what the deal is. "It's Sunday morning; can't anyone sleep in around here?" I hiss to nobody in particular. There's a soft knock at my door, followed by a tentative, "Trinity? Are you awake?" "I am now. Like the dead could even sleep through all this noise!" Grandma Sarah opens my bedroom door and pokes her head cautiously inside. "I'm sorry dear. I asked Mr. Tucker to stop and take a look at that tree limb hanging over the porch." "And he decides that the butt-crack of dawn Sunday morning is the best time to do that?" "He's just taking a quick look this morning. He won't be too long." I sigh, "That's okay. I needed to get up anyway. I want to get out and give Babs an extra hand today." Grandma Sarah walks over and pulls open the balcony doors sending a flurry of leaves skittering across the hardwood floor. She walks out onto the porch and calls out, "How's it look Jordan?" I hear a loud thump-thump and see a young man now standing with Grandma Sarah outside my bedroom window. I decide now would be a good time to get dressed and grab some sweatpants and a hoodie on my way to the bathroom. I hear their muffled voices through the door as I'm dressing. A few minutes later, my cell phone rings. I poke my head out and glance around the now empty room making sure I'm alone. I sprint across the room and grab the phone. "Hey Trinity, I was wondering if you could swing by and pick me up on the way this morning?"
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"Sure Logan. I'm just about ready to leave. I'll be there in about ten minutes, is that okay?" "Sounds good. I'll be ready." We hang up and I finish getting ready. On my way through the kitchen I grab a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and a plain bagel off the counter. "See ya later, Grandma Sarah," I call over my shoulder before pulling the door shut behind me, not pausing for her response. Logan's sitting on the front porch waiting for me when I pull up. Not being much of a morning person and due to my abrupt awakening this morning, I'm not too chipper. Logan isn't particularly talkative, but I'm guessing it's because he's not a morning person either. "Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he points out. I frown and shoot him a glare, "Grandma Sarah had some guy come look at a limb hanging over the porch this morning. He and his cement shoes walking on the roof above my head is what I awoke to. What's your excuse? He gives me an equally ugly glare back, "I don't do mornings." Something about our exchange of dirty looks and words strikes me funny all of a sudden and I giggle. When he glances my way, I stick my tongue out and tell him to lighten up. "Did you just stick your tongue out at me?" He asks with a serious tone. I see a smile starting to form at the edges of his mouth and he turns to look out the window. "That's real mature." We look at each other and crack up laughing.
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"Morning, Logan." "Morning, Trinity." The mood between us has lightened up by the time we arrive at Akers of Love. Logan and I enter through the back door. Babs calls out from the other room, "Trinity is that you?" "Yeah Logan and I are here." "In here, come see." Logan and I exchange a curious glance and make our way in the direction of Babs' voice. We find her sitting on the floor with her long legs curled under her. She's peering over the edge of a large cardboard box. "Abby had her puppies?" I ask, joining her next to the box. Looking over her shoulder I spot three little white fur-balls asleep next to their also sleeping mom. "When?" "She had them yesterday afternoon. Everything went just fine. No complications. Mom and family are doing well," Babs smiles and pushes up from the floor. "Let's give them some rest and take care of a few other things around here." We follow her out of the room anxious to see what she has planned for us today. "Logan, I need your help moving some things around in here," Babs waves her arm around the room at the cages. "Trinity, I want you to work on getting the dogs used to human kindness. Something they've never experienced before." That's how we spend the morning. I take the dogs out of their cages one at a time. While I do that, Logan works on rearranging their crates the way Babs wants them. I'm not sure why she wants them the way she does, but I'm sure she knows what she's doing.
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There are so many sad stories here. I want to take them all home with me. I know I can't, but my heart breaks for them. One small black dog in particular tugs at my heartstrings extra hard. Maybe it's because he reminds me of Mr. Magoo. Or it might be because the light in his brown eyes seems to have gone dim. His paw is wrapped in a bandage covering some sort of wound. Surprisingly, he doesn't protest as I open the cage door and carefully lift him out. "Check Pepper's bandage, will you?" Babs asks when she sees I've got him in my arms. I remove the dressing and replace it with a clean one, and then I carry him outside. When I sit him down in the grass he makes a few three-legged hops, sniffs the grass and relieves himself. He plops contentedly onto the grass as if that little jaunt took all of his energy. I sink to the grass beside him and wait for him to let me know he's ready to go again. After a short break for lunch, Logan's cell phone rings. He glances at it, "My dad," he mutters and walks off to take the call away from where Babs and I are. In a few minutes he walks back, "Sorry guys. That was my dad. He needs me at home. He's on his way to pick me up." He tells us good-bye and walks outside to wait for his dad to arrive. "Did you ever talk with him about the rumors?" Babs asks me after he's gone. "No. Not yet," I answer her. "I'm not sure I want to know." Babs shrugs her shoulders at me, "Suit yourself. I mean if you aren't curious about his past, far be it from me to interfere." "I didn't say I'm not curious. I just don't know. I mean, what if I don't like what I find out?" "You like him, don't you?"
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I stare at her for a few seconds, surprised by her question, "Yes, of course I like him." "Then you owe it to yourself -- and him -- to hear it from the horse's mouth. That's all I'm suggesting." "I know, you're right. I guess I was hoping he'd offer an explanation about his past and defend himself against all the whispers about him." Babs shakes her head at me, "Don't let the rumors cloud your judgment. Talk to him. Soon." By the time we finish with what Babs wanted done, it's late afternoon. I head for home and the homework waiting for me there. When I open my laptop, Babs' reminder to ask Logan about the rumors floats into my thoughts. I decide to do what everyone else does when they want information and do a Google search for Logan Sharpe. True to Google's over-achiever status in the search engine department, the search generates over thirty million hits. I redefine my search to include Chicago. That narrows it down, but not by much. Quickly, I scan down the page until one about halfway down the second page makes my stomach lurch into my throat: "TEEN CHARGED IN DEATHS" My cell phone rings causing me to jump three feet in the air and slam the laptop shut. It's like wanting to know what's inside your Christmas presents but having a change of heart at the last minute and putting the gift back before you get caught. "Hello?" I answer the phone with a shout. "Geez, Trin. Bad time?" Petri asks. "What? No. Sorry. The phone just startled me, that's all."
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We talk a few minutes and decide to go to Cove Caf for dinner. My detective work -my snooping -- can wait until some other time. Some other time when I'm feeling brave.
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Chapter 19 Monday it's back to school as usual. My first class of the day is Chemistry. I'm at our lab table going over some notes waiting for Jesse to arrive. When he finally walks up I notice his hand is wrapped in bandages. "What the heck did you do to your hand, Jesse?" I frown. "Chemistry experiment gone bad?" "Hardly," he scowls. "Ginger got pissed when I tried to clean out her cage yesterday. I told you she bites hard." "Ouch dude, that really sucks," I say concerned. "How are you supposed to be my lab partner all bandaged up like that?" "Piece of cake. Remember, I'm the brains behind this operation. I'm also pretty good at telling people what to do," he grins. "You just do what I tell you to do, and we'll be fine. Easy peasy." "Easy peasy? Yeah right! You over-estimate my ability to follow directions," I shake my head doubtfully. I make a quick scan around the room looking for Logan and Rachael. He's standing with Mr. Fountain discussing something, but I don't see Rachael anywhere. "Trinity, Jesse?" Mr. Fountain approaches our table with Logan in tow. "Logan's partner won't be here today, and since you're wounded Jesse, I'll have him sit with the two of you for now." "Fine," Jesse says. Clearly he's not too thrilled by the idea. "Great." I smile brightly. I'm a bit more excited about him joining us than Jesse is for obvious reasons.
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Class goes remarkably well, though there are a couple of times when the testosterone level is just a little too high. Other than that, it's a productive class. Logan and I don't have any more classes together this morning, so we agree to meet at our usual spot in the cafeteria later. "So don't forget. This Friday night is Clive Bennett's party," Aimee reminds us enthusiastically as we sit down to eat our lunches. "How could we forget? That's all you've been talking about since you found out about it," Adam points out. "I wonder where Logan is." I scan the room for his familiar face. "I saw him talking with Mrs. Everett in the office when I walked by," Petri tells me. "Hmm. Wonder what's up with that?" I frown. He looks preoccupied by the time he gets to the cafeteria. He catches my eye and motions me over with a nod of his head. "Be right back you guys," I tell them and excuse myself to join Logan. We walk outside. "Trin, my dad just called. I've got to go up to Chicago and take care of some things. We're leaving right away; he called Mrs. Everett to have me excused from school for the rest of the week," he tells me, not sounding overly pleased to be going. "This is sudden. Is everything all right?" I ask, concern clouding my face. "I don't know. I think so. I mean, I hope so," he stammers. "You'll be gone the rest of the week?" "I'm not sure. Hopefully, I'll be back this weekend. Monday at the latest. I'll call if I get a chance. He'll be here soon to pick me up." Logan glances toward the parking lot watching for his father's Cadillac.
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He pulls me close for a quick hug and kiss on the forehead totally taking me by surprise, "Wish me luck. I'll talk to you soon." I turn and watch him limp to the idling car. When he gets into the passenger side I feel ice water flow through my veins as I spy the look his dad gives me. What's up with that? I wonder to myself shivering. If looks could kill I'd be standing here dead right now. Suddenly, I don't feel like facing the rest of the day at school. I feel more like spending the afternoon eating ice cream and watching one of my favorite movies for the hundredth time, but I know Grandma Sarah wouldn't be too happy with me if I did that. Sighing heavily, I trudge back into the school instead. It's very hard to keep my head in the classroom the rest of the afternoon and not somewhere between Disappointment Cove, Missouri and Chicago, Illinois. What I lack in the patience department, I more than make up for with worry. Grace always tells me I'll be totally gray by the time I turn twenty. I tell her that's why they make hair coloring. So many questions are going through my mind right now. Not to mention all kinds of unpleasant scenarios painted with my over-active imagination. After school, I give Petri a ride home. "Wonder why the sudden trip to Chicago?" She asks before we're even out of the school parking lot. "I have no idea. He didn't really say much about it," I tell her. "It probably has to do with what people are saying. You know. About his past." "You know how people in this town love to gossip, Pete." "Yes, but even the most outrageous rumors have to have a seed to grow."
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I frown at her. Now would definitely not be the time to tell her about the Google search I started the other day. "Whatever." "Don't you 'whatever' me. You can't tell me you don't wonder about all those things people are saying." "Yeah. I wonder. But when he wants to tell me, he will. For now, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt." "Fine. But he could be dangerous you know." "C'mon Pete. You've spent time around him," I shoot her a sideways glance. "Does he seem dangerous to you?" "No. but he is awfully moody. And look at how charming Ted Bundy -- the serial killer -was." I glare out the windshield and tighten my grip on the steering wheel, "I know who Ted Bundy was. Logan is not a sociopathic serial killer. Jeez Pete!" "I'm just saying. You should totally check him out. I know I would." I'm starting to get a little annoyed by the conversation, "I'm surprised you haven't already." "Who says I haven't?" I don't bother to respond and neither of us speaks another word. I drop her off and head to Akers of Love to see if Babs needs me for anything.
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Chapter 20 It's Friday. The week is finally over. I haven't heard from Logan since he left and I am starting to get a little worried. Not to mention, slightly annoyed. It would have been nice if he'd called to let me know what is going on instead of leaving it to my imagination to fill in the missing pieces. Apparently he missed the memo on how much I worry. "Maybe you'll hear from him later tonight." Petri offers. "I'm not holding my breath." "Are you mad because he hasn't called?" She asks, knowing that answer already. "Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I am a little disappointed that I haven't seen or talked to him since Tuesday afternoon. Here it is, the weekend already and my only date is with Babs," I whine and start feeling sorry for myself. "Maybe you should just come with Aimee and me to the party tonight." "No, I want to help Babs for awhile. Anyway, you know how I feel about going to that party." "Okay," she shrugs. "You can't say we didn't offer." Honestly, I don't have any intentions to go anywhere near that lame party. In fact, helping Babs and then going home to my room, warm and dry beats going out in weather like this any day of the week. The Missouri Monsoons, I affectionately call this cold, rainy fall-like weather we're having. There are flash flood watches forecast for the low-lying areas all around the county tonight and into tomorrow. Nope, being home high and dry suits me just fine. As I pull into Akers of Love my cell phone rings. It's Logan. "Trinity?" "Yeah, hi."
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"Hi, hey, listen, we just stopped for gas in Branson. I can't talk long, but I'll call you when I get home," he tells me quickly. "Okay. Sounds good." I say, and start to ask how his trip went, but the call disconnects before I get the chance. Ugh! When will it ever stop raining? I wonder as I make a run from the car into the building. "I'm glad you're here. This weather is enough to drive me insane." Babs comments when I walk inside. "Is Logan not home from his trip yet?" "No, I just got off the phone with him. They're in Branson. He had to make it quick, his dad was coming back. For some reason his dad doesn't like me." "Why? What did you ever do to him?" Babs teases. "I didn't do anything. I think his dad has issues. Not just with me, but..." I trail off, not sure what the deal is with Mr. Sharpe. "Oh he'll come around. You'll see. What's not to like about you?" She smiles giving me a one armed hug. "It can't be anything personal. Didn't you say he's a lawyer?" "Yeah, he's a lawyer." I roll my eyes. "There's your answer," she grins at me. The rain has been relentless all day. Cold, windy and rainy. That about sums up the weather. I don't know if the chill in my bones is from the cold early October rain or from the thought of Logan's dad. "Anyway, what do you want me to help with tonight?" I glance around the room.
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"I think what we'll do tonight is make sure all the bandages are fresh and clean. Tomorrow, a few of the healthier dogs will be going out to area foster homes," Babs pushes her hair back from her face and smiles at me half-heartedly. "Which is good news for the dogs." "How is Abby doing?" I walk over to Abby and her puppies' temporary home. "Abby and family are doing great. Pepper on the other hand..." she opens up the cage and sits him on the exam table so she can get a better look at his bandage. "I think there's more going on with him than just the sore on his foot." "Why do you say that?" "He won't eat, he just wants to sleep," she reaches for the scissors and starts removing the bandage on his paw. "Tomorrow, I want to do a complete blood work-up on him, and depending on how that looks, maybe X-rays." "You think it's serious?" "I think it might be. I noticed a lump on his shoulder, and a couple of other smaller lumps that might be related. I'll draw some cells while I'm at it." I feel the lump in my throat growing and blink back the tears stinging my eyes. "Poor Pepper." "I know. We're lucky with all the dogs rescued that there weren't more of them with serious problems." "I don't understand how people can do this to animals." Babs nods, "Money. That and no compassion." "Or brain cells."
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I help her rewrap Pepper's paw and she decides to make him more comfortable, she'll put him in a crate with a cushion tonight instead of the cage like the one where he lived his entire life. "If that's all for tonight, I think I'm going to head home before Grandma Sarah leaves for the evening." "That's fine Trinity. Thank you for your help tonight," she tells me as we finish washing up. Logan said they were in Branson so he might be home soon. Though with the rain coming down like this, the drive might take a little longer than usual. Still, maybe there is some chance I'll get to see him tonight. Grandma Sarah will be leaving soon to go play cards at the Monroe's with her friend Jake Ferguson. Rain or shine that's a weekly event. Once home, I just get settled into the nice hot bubbly tub of comfort and relaxation when my cell phone rings from the bedroom. These large old claw-foot tubs are perfect for sinking down into but they suck trying to get out of in a hurry. Dammit. Normally, I'd just let it ring, but since I'm hoping to hear from Logan, I make a run for it. I answer the phone out of breath and shivering from sprinting wet and naked from the tub to catch it before it goes to voice mail. "What are you wearing?" He asks in a seductive whisper. When I don't respond right away, he laughs, "It's me, Logan." "Very funny, but since you asked I was in the tub when the phone rang. So, right now, about all I have on is a bad case of goose bumps. Thanks so much for asking," I reach for my thick, fuzzy purple robe from off the hook inside the bathroom door.
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From his laughter, I decide he apparently thinks it's a lot funnier than I do. "Not going to the big party tonight?" He asks. "Umm. That would be a no." I tell him, wrapping the warm robe tightly around me to stifle my shivers. "Oh okay. Just checking. I'll talk to you at school on Monday then." "What the are you kidding me? You did not just call to check up on me." I say slightly annoyed. After all, I just jumped out of a perfectly good -- and warm -- bubble bath and nearly broke my neck to answer the phone. And he just wants to see if I'm going to that stupid party? "Easy Sparky. I'm just playin' with ya!" He says with what I know to be an arrogant grin on that gorgeous face of his. "Want to meet at Cove Caf later?" "Did you just call me Sparky?" I ask. "I don't know. I really should stay in and do my nails." I'm teasing of course, since doing my nails is something I do -- like never. When he doesn't answer right away, I laugh and tell him I'm just kidding and that Cove Caf will be great. I offer to pick him up, but he tells me he has a ride, though I will have to bring him home afterwards. I just hope his ride isn't that oh-so-pleasant father of his. "Ok, Cove Caf it is. What time?" I ask looking through my closet for something to wear that will make him glad to see me. "Is eight too late?" "Nope, eight it is. I'll see you then." I say brightly and hang up. I do a little dance around my over-sized bedroom high-fiving the air. "Yessss!" Mr. Magoo looks at me like I've finally lost my mind and runs for cover under the bed.
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Chapter 21 Making it to Cove Caf through the latest downpour, I get there before Logan arrives. The place is pretty deserted for a Friday night, though the game is probably still going on. I suppose a lot of people are staying home in this awful weather, but there are those die-hards who'd never miss a Friday night football game no matter what. I'm sitting near the door by the large windows that make up the entire front of the restaurant. The streets are pretty deserted right now, so when I see headlights come into view, I suspect it's probably Logan. What I don't know is who the extremely attractive young blonde woman he's with is. I catch a glimpse of her as the Mercedes she's driving pulls up and stops under the street light in front of the caf. She leans over and kisses his cheek as he gets out of the car and limps to the shelter of the green awning over the door. "Hi," I smile standing up when he walks in. "Hey Trin." He says pulling me into a hug. "It's so good to see a friendly face again." "Who was that, the lady who dropped you off?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "Just some rich woman I spend time with when her husband's out of town," he says with a twinkle in his aqua-blue eyes. "Ass." I say rolling my eyes. "That's my aunt Gayle. She was keeping an eye on the house while we were in Chicago." He says waving to get our waitress' -- Molly O'Hara's -- attention. I recognize Molly from school. She's a grade behind us, I think. She leaves our menus and tells us she'll be back for our orders in a few minutes.
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Logan is more at ease tonight than he was prior to his trip to Chicago, I observe approvingly. His hood is even down tonight no longer self-consciously hiding the scars on his face. "How was Chicago?" "It went well," he says, looking at the large laminated menu, "What's good here? I'm starving." "Everything, as long as you like it fried," I laugh. As promised, Molly returns in a few minutes to get our orders. "I'll have a double bacon cheeseburger with everything except onions, a large order of fried pickles and a Diet Coke," he says handing her his menu. "I'll take the unbreaded tenderloin with pickles and mustard and a Diet Coke." "What was so important in Chicago that you had to leave so suddenly?" I ask, hoping that the question doesn't put him into one of his dark moods. "Well," he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. "You might as well know the truth." "The truth is always good." "I had to go back to Court. When we lived in Chicago, I got into some pretty serious trouble," he glances down at his badly scarred hand. "My dad was able to pull some strings and call in some favors. I didn't get off completely, I didn't deserve to but anyway, something came up this week that called for an emergency trip back to Cook County. Hopefully, it's all taken care of now." "What kind of 'serious' trouble? Is this why you're in the Outreach Program?" I ask, suddenly wondering if the rumors going around are true and what else about him I don't know. "I mean it's not like you murdered someone or anything is it?"
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He looks up from his hands, slowly. His face pale and sadness is showing in his eyes. He swallows hard, and avoids looking at me. I hope he knows that I'm only kidding about the murder thing. "Not murder. Not exactly... but because of me two people are dead," he says quietly and looks out the window into the gloomy rain-soaked streets. "I'm in the Outreach Program because I ran away from home. Twice." I consider his face for a moment to make sure he isn't suddenly going to tell me to lighten up, he's just kidding. But from his grim look, it's obvious he's quite serious. Dead serious. I feel the blood drain from my face as I try wrapping my head around what he's just told me. "I'm Umm I erm I don't know what to say," I stammer incoherently. Though I've totally lost my appetite, Molly cheerfully brings our food and sits it on the table between us. Oblivious to the fact that she's just interrupted a tremendously serious conversation -- though I can't imagine her not picking up on the awkward tension surrounding us. She asks if she can bring us anything else. Logan tells her no and she rips the ticket from her order pad, places it under his water glass and walks off to continue filling the salt shakers and napkin dispensers. "I know it's a lot to try to swallow right now. I hope you let me explain the whole story so you'll stop looking at me like I'm some psycho axe murderer. It's not like it sounds. I mean, I'm not going to sugar-coat it. It's not pretty. Two people are dead because of what I've done, but I'm not an evil, cold-calculating blood-thirsty killer. I pass out at the site of blood. I could never intentionally hurt anyone, ever," he's trying hard to reassure me that I'm not sitting with the devil himself right now.
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As I try to wrap my head around what he's just told me, people start filing in and the place is getting crowded. The football game is over, and I am surprised that with tonight's weather this many people went. Cove Caf is now almost filled with the water-logged smalltown sports fans. "Say something Trinity. I mean please don't jump to conclusions. You look like you've just realized you're having dinner with Hannibal Lecter and you're trying to figure out how to make a run for it before you become an appetizer," he makes an attempt to lighten the mood but concern is written all over his face. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and a chance to tell me the whole story. I really will, but this isn't the time or place for us to get into that conversation." "Ok. Let's just finish our food and go somewhere less congested, so I can tell you the whole story. Deal?" He asks and reaches across the table, putting his hand on mine. It's all I can do not to jerk my hand away from him. "Deal." I mutter. Eating is the last thing on my mind after the bombshell he's just dropped in my lap. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Though for the life of me, I can't come up with anything logical that could explain his being responsible for anyone being dead. Apparently, Logan's appetite is still fine and while I wait for him to finish his food, I excuse myself to use the restroom, or make a run for it. I haven't decided which. "I must be an idiot to trust any guy in the first place." I mumble into thin air as someone tentatively knocks on the bathroom door. When I open the door and walk out, a woman I don't recognize gives me a funny look and crosses herself. She must think I'm some lunatic when I exit the bathroom alone.
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When I get back to the table, Logan's finished eating and asks if I'm going to eat the rest of my sandwich or if I'm ready to go somewhere else so we can talk. "I guess I sort of lost my appetite," I admit quietly. "Let's just leave." He sighs and extracts himself from the cramped diner booth. He has a pained look on his face. Though I don't know what to expect, he deserves a chance to tell me the rest of the story. Plus, I'd rather hear it directly from him than through gossip or Google. "Okay, I'll just pay for dinner and we can get out of here," he shouts above the din of the crowded caf. We walk back to my car, in-between rain showers for the moment. Suddenly, the eerie howl of sirens interrupts the silence of the night. As I unlock my car door, the sheriff's car flies past with lights flashing, sirens wailing, followed seconds later by several local fire department units and an ambulance from County General. "Must be an accident," I comment and slide into the driver's seat. Logan hasn't said a word since we left the restaurant. When I glance at him, he's as white as a sheet. "Dude, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost." "That can't be good," he mumbles watching as the emergency vehicles head north out of town. "That's another thing about living in a small town. When you hear sirens or see the ambulance, it's usually because something's happened to someone you know," I say and rub my arms trying to warm up so I'll stop shivering. In a town the size of Disappointment Cove, nothing is very far from anything and we're at my house in a matter of minutes. Since it's started to drizzle again, I pull into the garage to avoid
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getting soaked later. As the garage door is coming down, the unmistakable roar of a helicopter roars overhead. "Life Flight." I say quietly. Logan and I make our way through the empty house and into the game room. Sitting on the floor by the fireplace, I wish there was a fire burning. I remember being here as a little girl and how cozy the fire felt on a cold winter afternoon. I feel chilled to the bone right now, and I can't seem to stop trembling. "I see Grandma Sarah has some wood stacked up there," I say, pointing to the pile of wood, "I wish I knew how to start a fire." "I can light one if you want. You haven't stopped shaking since we left Cove Caf," he offers moving toward the firewood. "That would be great. I'll go grab us something to drink." I say and force myself up from the floor. I have an uneasy, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I've had it all night. It feels as if something horrible is going to happen. I'm pretty sure it has to be something more than Logan's confession. I have chills that go clear to the bone and nothing I do seems to help me warm up. My spidey-sense says not to be afraid of Logan; in fact, I'm more comforted with him here. This uneasy feeling gnawing inside of me is something else, and I just know it's something awful. Logan's busy building a fire in the massive stone fireplace when I return from the kitchen with a couple Diet Cokes. "Your phone's been vibrating like crazy," he tells me as I hand him a soda.
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Grabbing my phone, I see there are three texts and a new voice message. I didn't realize I'd been gone long enough for all that. Two of the text messages are from Petri, the other from Adam, and the voice message is from Grandma Sarah. "It must be important," I frown knowing the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the barrage of flashing lights we witnessed earlier and all of these messages are connected somehow. "OMG BAD ACCIDENT ON WAY 2 PARTY!" Petri's first text read. The second one is worse, "IT'S RACHAEL AND FLETCHER... BAD." The final text is from Adam, "CALL ME ASAP!" "I think I know what the sirens were all about," I tell Logan as I dial my voice mail. I listen quietly, holding up a finger indicating for him to wait a sec. Grandma Sarah's message is to make sure that I'm home and accounted for and not out on the roads in this weather, that there's been a serious accident north of town. "What is it? What's going on?" Logan asks when I hang up the phone. "That was Grandma Sarah making sure I'm home, she said there's been a bad accident," I tell him. Suddenly a wave of nausea washes over me and my legs feel as though they're made of rubber. "I better let her know I'm ok." "Do they know who it was?" He asks, concern clouds his face. "Petri's text said it was Rachael Higgins and Fletcher Hudson." "It must be bad, with Life Flight going out." He moves close, reaching out to steady me with his hand on my elbow as I return Grandma Sarah's call. I don't move away. She answers after the first ring. "Hi Grandma Sarah. I got your message."
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"Oh thank goodness. Where are you?" She asks. I hear her cover the mouth piece and in a muffled voice she tells everyone that it's me. "I'm home. Logan's here with me. We're fine." "What a relief. I was worried when I heard there was a bad accident on County Highway YY. I wasn't sure if you were home or not," she tells me. "Yeah I heard about the accident. I'm okay. I'll talk to you later." I tell her before disconnecting the call. "What did she say?" Logan asks and guides me to the sofa. He must decide by the look on my face that I need to sit down before I collapse. I'm shaking so badly he grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it around my shoulders. "J-just that there w-was a b-bad accident on YY. That's where that p-party is." I shiver as I reply to Petri's texts. "WHERE R U? R U OK?" My thumbs quickly tap out the letters. Next I call Adam, "Trin, I'm on the other line with Aimee. Let me call you back in a few, ok?" I tell him okay, and we wait for more news. "I've just had this really bad feeling all night. I knew something bad was going to happen." I admit quietly. "Shhh. It'll be ok," he whispers and wraps his strong arms around me trying to get me to stop shivering. The rest of the night is a series of text messages, phone calls and utter chaos. All of it is he-said, she-said, I-think, I-heard, I-saw. Most of it is the same grim information told from slightly different points of view.
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Finally, I suggest to Logan I'll take him home. There's nothing more either of us can do, even though alone is the last thing I want to be right now. I know that Grandma Sarah will be home soon. "Yeah, my dad's probably ready to send out the National Guard. I left my cell at home on the charger," he admits sheepishly. "Oh no! Why didn't you say something? Here, call him right now." I stick my cell phone in his face "That's probably a good idea," he agrees quietly. I sense he doesn't want to make the call in front of me, so I run upstairs and grab a sweatshirt. I pull it on over the one I'm already wearing still trying to get warm. When I get back downstairs, Logan is just hanging up the phone and has a scowl crossing his face. "Everything ok?" I ask. "I better get home. He's not very happy with me right now. What else is new?" "I'm so sorry, Logan. I just lost track of the time and didn't even realize you didn't have your cell with you," I apologize, feeling guilty for getting him into trouble with his dad. "No. Don't be sorry, it's fine. Really, he'll get over it. It's not like you've done anything wrong." He shrugs his shoulders. We don't say much as I drive him the few blocks to his house. With everything that happened since we left Cove Caf, we didn't get to finish our conversation. I try to put it out of my head for now. Logan's dad is watching from the front windows as I pull up in front of their foreboding house. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Goodnight."
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"Night." I tell him and try to make my mouth move into something vaguely resembling a smile, though I feel as though I'm just a robot going through the motions. I watch him limp slowly up the sidewalk, when he disappears inside the house, I do a UTurn and head back the way I came. I am way too wound up to go right to sleep when I get home from dropping Logan off. I decide to sit up and wait for Grandma Sarah to get home. We talk for a few minutes before I head up to bed. A text from Logan arrives as I crawl under the covers to say good-night. With all the craziness that went on tonight, I try to put any speculation I have about our dinner conversation out of my head. The last thing I need is more stuff to worry about; I'm on information overload as it is. I know that eventually -- soon eventually -- we're going to have to discuss the bombshell he dropped in my lap. I text him back: "GLAD U WERE HERE 2 NITE, THX. TTYL."
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Chapter 22 When I cautiously open my eyes after tossing and turning all night, I squint against the midmorning sun streaming through my bedroom windows. I'm not too surprised to see it's after ten. Grandma Sarah is reading the Disappointment Cove Register when I walk into the kitchen, which smells of strong coffee and toast. "Good morning, dear. Did you get any sleep?" She asks, barely glancing up from the paper. "Once I finally got to sleep, I slept okay," I grab the orange juice from the fridge and stick a couple pieces of toast into the toaster. "Anything about the accident?" "Front page news, big write-up here," she taps her index finger on a photo of the barely recognizable remains of a car.
TWO AREA TEENS KILLED IN FIERY CRASH
"What do they think happened?" I ask, trying not to read over her shoulder. "Here, you can read it," she tells me, pushing the paper across the table. "I feel so bad for the families." I sit down across from her with my toast and juice and started reading the article:
FRIENDS AND FAMILY ARE MOURNING THE DEATH OF TWO TEENAGERS KILLED IN A FIERY CRASH FRIDAY EVENING ON COUNTY HIGHWAY YY NORTH OF DISAPPOINTMENT COVE. LOCAL STUDENT, SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD FLETCHER ANTHONY HUDSON HAD BEEN THROWN FROM THE CAR. HE WAS AIR LIFTED TO SAINT FRANCIS TRAUMA CENTER WHERE HE DIED A SHORT TIME LATER FROM INJURIES SUSTAINED. A PASSENGER IN THE CAR, SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD RACHAEL MARIE HIGGINS WAS PRONOUNCED DEAD AT THE SCENE.
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THE STONE COUNTY SHERIFF OFFICE RECEIVED THE CALL JUST BEFORE TEN P.M. FRIDAY NIGHT. EMERGENCY RESPONDERS ARRIVED ON THE SCENE FINDING HUDSON'S JEEP CHEROKEE COMPLETELY ENGULFED IN FLAMES. ACCORDING TO EYE-WITNESSES, HUDSON'S CAR HAD APPARENTLY BEEN TRAVELING AT A HIGH RATE OF SPEED WHEN IT LEFT THE ROAD ON A SHARP CURVE AND HIT A BRIDGE EMBANKMENT BEFORE BURSTING INTO FLAMES. THE MISSOURI STATE PATROL IS HELPING THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE RECONSTRUCT THE CRASH.
There's more, but I can't read it. I feel as though someone has punched me in the stomach. This is just awful. They were on their way to the party; and since Fletcher just played in the football game they were probably sober. Which is moot at this point, but still, I know that some people would be speculating. My cell phone rings bringing me back to my surroundings in the warm kitchen. "Hi Trin. Did you see today's paper?" Petri sniffs. "Oh Pete, it's just awful!" I stare at the paper in front of me. "They were right in front of us when it happened. I still can't believe it. Aimee and I saw the whole thing." She choked out between sobs. "It was pouring, so I wasn't going that fast. Not as fast as he was. All I saw were his taillights pulling away from us." She pauses to blow her nose before continuing, "By the time we got to where his car left the road -- it just exploded into flames. I got out of my car and I heard someone moaning from the ditch. I yelled at Aimee to call 9-1-1." She begins crying again, and I try to comfort her as best I can over the phone, letting her take her time before telling me the rest of the details. "Trinity, it was just horrible. Life Flight took Fletcher but, but Rachael"
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"Breathe Pete. I'm so sorry you had to see that. You want me to come over and hang out before I go to work?" I offer. "Yeah, would you?" She squeaks out, sounding so small and fragile, so un-Petri-like. "Sure sweetie. Just let me change clothes, and I'll be over as soon as I can." "Th th thank you," she stammers before hanging up. It's not like any of us were friends with either of the victims. But still, it's too close for comfort, losing two members of an already small eleventh grade class. The victims had lived in Disappointment Cove their entire lives -- as much of the small town student body has. I run up the back stairs to my room and slip into my comfy, "I-hope-nobody-sees-me" clothes. Aimee calls just as I'm coming back down the stairs. "Trin. It was the worst thing I've ever seen. I mean seriously. I keep replaying it over and over, and I just can't get the sight of his burning car out of my head," Aimee says hoarsely, as she begins to cry too. "Listen. I'm on my way over to Pete's. Why don't you and Adam join us. We can all hang out and keep each other company." I suggest since misery supposedly loves company. She agrees that it's a good plan, and we hung up. "Grandma Sarah? I'm going over to Petri's; she's pretty shook up about the accident last night," I call out as I hit the front door on my way out. "I'll head out to Akers of Love from there." "Ok Trinity, be careful."
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Petri's house is just at the end of my block. When I knock, she answers the door right away, holding a tissue box and wearing her Betty Boop flannels. Her eyes are puffy and red and I'd be surprised if she got any sleep at all last night. To be blunt, she looks like crap. "Hey hon." I tell her opening my arms to give her a big hug. "Aimee called. She and Adam are going to come over too. We can all just hang out. I didn't think you'd mind." "No, no. That's a good idea," she says, pulling a Kleenex from the box to blow her nose and trudges ahead of me up the stairs to her room. "Logan and I were at Cove Caf last night when it happened. We saw the sheriff's car go flying by, followed by the rest of the emergency vehicles." "Yeah, seeing Fletcher's car in flames I just can't stop seeing that whenever I close my eyes." She wraps her arms around herself tightly. I nod, not knowing what to say. I want to tell her what Logan started to tell me last night, but I know she'd totally over-react and assume all sorts of bizarre melodramatic scenarios. I decide that she has enough on her mind right now. Besides, I want to get the whole story from Logan before I share it with Petri or anyone else. When Adam and Aimee arrive, we discuss the accident over and over again. I listen quietly as they relive the nightmare. I wonder if school would be delayed Monday and Aimee says she heard there is going to be an assembly in the all-purpose room first thing. Soon, it's time for me to head to work and I'm a little relieved because you can only listen to the same story so many times before you start either repeating yourself or run out of things to say and an awkward silence hangs in the air. Just as I reach the front porch, my cell phone rings. "Hey Logan."
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"Hi Trinity. Have you talked to Petri?" He asks. "Yeah, I'm just leaving there now." I walk across the yard and get into my car. "She's pretty shaken up. They were right behind Fletcher when the accident happened; they saw the whole thing." "That has to be really hard for them," he says quietly. "Yeah it is." I agree, remembering the anguish on Petri's face. "I'm getting ready to head out to see if Babs needs my help with anything. You want to ride along?" "I can't right now but," he pauses, "we still need to finish our conversation from last night." "I know." "I didn't want you to think I forgot." "No, I wouldn't let you forget." "I figured as much," he says. "Do you wanna come over tonight for dinner?" "That depends." "Depends?" He asks, curiously. "You're not cooking, are you?" I tease. "As a matter-of-fact, I am cooking. I'm a great cook," he answers in a tone that implies he's shocked that I would even think about doubting his skills. I laugh, "I believe that. You seem to be good at just about everything you do." "Not really. Just some things," he says quietly. "What about your dad?" I ask. Remembering the glare his father gave me the other day, seeing him isn't something I really want to do. "Will he be home?" "No, he got called out of town on some personal business."
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"So, we'd be all alone, just the two of us?" I ask, pretending to be concerned. "Yeah. Does that bother you? I mean you can keep your hands off of me, right?" He snorts. "I'll try my best, but I'm not making any promises. What time should I come over?" "How about six? You'll be done at Akers of Love by then, won't you?" "Yeah, that will give me enough time to help Babs for an hour or so, shower and make myself gorgeous." I joke with him, knowing that it would take me a lot longer than an hour to make myself anything close to resembling "gorgeous." "I'll be here. See you later." "See ya." I hang up, half of me wanting to see Logan, to hear the truth and the other half of me worried about what the truth is. One way or the other, I hope I'm ready for this. The bell over the front door jingles loudly as I walk inside Akers of Love. I recognize the short woman talking to Babs is Violet Feldman. Beside her on the floor in a medium sized Petmate Vari Kennel are Sugar and Spice, two of the rescue Scottish Terriers. "Hi Mrs. Feldman," I smile and point at the crate. "Taking two?" "Good afternoon, Trinity," she reaches down and picks up the dogs. "Well. I was only going to bring home one today. But Babs convinced me that if I took Sugar, Spice would be very lonely without her. So, two it is." Mrs. Feldman will be their foster mom until they are ready for their forever home. She looks inside at the two dogs, "When we get home, you'll each get your own room." "They won't know how to act with so much room," Babs tells her. "Call me if you need anything Violet, and thank you again."
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I hold the door for her and she waves at us once she has the crate secured in the bed of the pickup. "I wasn't sure I'd see you today," Babs tells me. I frown, "Why's that?" "I heard about the accident. Friends of yours?" "I knew them. But no, we weren't friends." She nods, "How did things go with Logan last night?" "Okay I guess." She stops walking and stares at me, "Okay you guess?" "He started to tell me about his... umm his history. But with the accident, we got sidetracked." She folds her arms in front of her chest, "And?" "And we're supposed to continue that conversation tonight." I sigh heavily. "I hope it's not as awful as it sounds." She shakes her head and walks into her office, "Did anyone ever tell you, you worry too much?" "Me? Worry? Nope, never." I roll my eyes. "It's not every day that a guy you might like tells you he's responsible for two people being dead." "Did you ever think about giving him the benefit of the doubt?" I follow her into the cramped office and she sits at her desk, lifting papers and rearranging them. "What do you think I'm doing? I didn't freak completely out and run screaming from the restaurant last night after he told me," I remind her. "True. I'm proud of you for that," she says.
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"He's a good person, I think. And he doesn't strike me as someone who would intentionally hurt anyone. He's quiet and he might be a little, okay a lot, moody -- but I'm pretty sure he's not a sociopath." "I agree." "I think something happened in his past to break his spirit and I'm willing to bet the scars covering the side of his face and hand are more than skin deep." I pause, realizing that I've been babbling and Babs seems distracted. "Are you listening to me?" "Mm hmm." She picks up a large manila envelope and carries them out of the office. I follow her out and watch as she takes two x-rays out of the envelope and clips them to the light box on the wall. She studies the films for a short while before snapping the light off. I'm no expert and wouldn't know a good x-ray from a bad one, but I can see from her distress that it's not good news. "What is it Babs?" There's a lone tear sliding down her cheek, she swipes it away with the back of her hand, "These are Pepper's x-rays. His blood work doesn't look too bad, but these x-rays tell a different story." I chew on my lip, "Bad?" She nods, "Yes. Pepper has malignant melanoma. Pretty common in black dogs." "Is there anything we can do?" "Not really. I spoke with Dr. Helmond, he's an oncologist, this type of cancer just doesn't respond well to treatment," she shakes her head. "Pepper's going to die?" "I'm afraid so, Trinity," she tells me as tears flow freely down her cheeks now.
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"How long does he have?" I choke out. "A few months maybe. All we can do is keep him comfortable and when it gets to be too much for him, he'll let us know." We stand quietly for a few minutes, and she reaches over and pulls me into a bear hug, "No wonder the light has gone out of his eyes." I sob. "In deed, it has. It's hard with animals. They can't tell us where they hurt or when they hurt. Not like people," she sighs. I dry my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie and try to put up a brave front, "At least with people, when their spirit is broken... you can try to get them to talk, and listen when they do." "Something tells me you're talking about Logan?" She smiles. "Come on. Let's get some things done around here before you have to leave for your date."
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Chapter 23 When I get home, Mr. Magoo is waiting for me by the back door. "What? Nobody let you out?" I smile down at the little guy and grab his leash off the hook in the utility room. "Well come on then, let's go see the squirrels, okay?" I swear he knows what I'm saying. Dogs. Gotta love 'em. We head down the street and I notice a car parked in front of Kriebstein Manor. It's the same Mercedes that Logan got out of last night in front of Cove Caf. I recognize Kyla walking through the gates, and shes with a pretty blonde-haired woman who I assume is her mother. "Hi Kyla," I call out, waving to them from the sidewalk. "Oh, Hi Trinity!" She waves back and pulls her mom toward where I'm standing. "Mom, this is Logan's friend Trinity," Kyla says as she turns to the woman beside her. "Trinity, this is my mother, Gayle." "Hello, it's so nice to meet you, Trinity. It's good to see Logan finally smiling again; I assume you're responsible for that? He's just been through so much" Gayle trails off squeezing my hand warmly. "Nice to meet you, too," I tell her honestly. Turning toward the stone house, "It's also nice to see someone living here after all these years." "I'm not so sure. We've really got our work cut out for us. It's been empty for so long," she says glancing over her shoulder at the neglected gray mansion rising up from the ground behind her. "Kyla tells me you live in that pink house at the end of the street." "Yeah, I live there with my Grandma Sarah." "Well I do hope you'll stop by once we get settled. Hopefully, we'll have it ready by Christmas," she says. Turning to Kyla, "Well kiddo, we better head back up to Springfield; we've got a lot of packing left to do before the movers get there Monday."
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"Great seeing you again, Trinity," Kyla tells me smiling broadly. "You too, Kyla. Nice to meet you Mrs. Decker." "Please call me Gayle. It's been my pleasure." I like Gayle, and Kyla seems to be both sweet and shy at the same time. Convinced that Mr. Magoo is ready to go back inside, we make our way back home so I can get ready to go to Logan's. Most of the time taking a shower helps clear my head, but I am wound up so tight I don't even know if it will help. I'm not completely sure why I'm so anxious. I take that back. I know why. I like Logan. He's the only guy I've let myself get close to since things ended so badly with Marco. Logan's the first guy I've wanted to kiss, to be with, and do things with since I've lived here. He seems to like me, too. It's all good, except for the fact that he is dealing with some serious baggage. Not terribly attractive baggage, I might add. It's been hard enough opening up to trust again in the first place. I just want to know that it hasn't been an error in judgment on my part. Out of the shower, I wipe the fog from the large mirror hanging above the sea-shell scalloped lavender sink. The whole bathroom is done in varying shades of purple. When Grandma Sarah learned it was my favorite color she had the room "spruced-up a bit" -- as she likes to say -- before I moved in. Quickly drying my hair I run a kohl eyeliner pencil around my eyes to help bring out their dark color. A little blush here, some lip-gloss there and I'm looking pretty good, if I do say so myself.
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I pull on a pair of old, comfortable, trusty jeans and a black and gold Mizzou Tigers hoodie and I'm out the door. Driving the few blocks to Logan's house, I can't help but wonder about what it is that he's going to tell me. I park in the street in front of the house and make my way up the sidewalk. The porch light is on inviting me to the front door. It is a quiet and clear October evening. There's a chill in the air and heavy frost warnings have been issued. The sky is clear, and the stars seem to be particularly bright, a good sign that it will be a crisp one. Stepping up onto the porch I reach out to ring the doorbell when the front door opens suddenly, startling me. "Hi there, 'bout time you got here," Logan teases, taking my hand and pulling me into his arms for a quick hug. "Nice to see you, too," I smile taking a deep breath of his cologne mixed with the scent of burning wood coming from a nearby chimney. It's a warm intoxicating smell, pleasing my senses that are already in over-drive. Being anxious does that to me. He smiles at me with a smile so devastatingly drop-dead gorgeous that all I can do is blush and look down, avoiding his intense aqua-blue gaze. Looking into those eyes has a hypnotic effect on me, and I don't want my IQ to suddenly drop forty points causing me to start babbling incoherently here on the porch. "Come in," he offers, pulling me over the threshold through the large ornately carved wooden door. Entering his house is like stepping through a portal back to another place and time. The furnishings are probably all original -- as old as the house itself -- though preserved in museum-
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like quality. As I look around, I'm in awe. I have always loved Victorian architecture, and the fact that the interior of this house is as Victorian as the exterior leaves me speechless. He must know from the look on my face that I'm utterly mesmerized by the beauty. "Authentic Victorian-Era at its finest," he says motioning with a sweep of his hand around the large entryway where we stand. "Wow," I manage to say as I look around at the room's magnificence. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" He says proudly, "Come on in, dinner's just about ready to come out of the oven." He takes my hand and leads me down the oak-paneled hallway into the large oldfashioned kitchen. "It smells awesome. What is it?" I ask. "Frozen pizza," he says, and the edges of his lips curl up slightly as he tries to suppress a smile. "Shut up. That's not frozen pizza I'm smelling." "It is... or at least it was. We bought some fresh take-and-bake Chicago-style pizzas when we were up there to bring home. This is one of 'em," he tells me, pulling an extremely thick and delicious looking pizza from the oven. As he sits the pizza down on the counter, I can't help myself; I rise onto my tip-toes and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grins at me, "What was that for?" "Just because. You deserve it, I mean after slaving over a hot oven all night," I blush from my boldness. Speaking of hot, I think to myself.
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He takes off the giant oven mitt and pulls me close. For the first time in a very long time, I'm being kissed by the way I want to be kissed. It feels pretty awesome, and I know if he doesn't stop, I'll forget all about the pizza sitting next to us on the counter. His lips are soft and warm on mine. He put both hands on either side of my face tenderly. Our tongues touched briefly before he slowly pulls away. I've always been a kissing-type girl, someone who could kiss for hours barely coming up for air. I tend to lose myself in the art of kissing for the sake of kissing. Part of that is probably from kissing Marco, I mean kissing him made me feel all warm and fuzzy, but it never made me think about taking it any further than just kissing. Kissing Logan is different. "Mmm that was nice." I say, tracing my index finger along the curve of his mouth. He smiles at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, releasing me he says, "C'mon. Let's eat before the pizza gets cold." He hands me a couple of Diet Cokes that he grabbed from the fridge, some plates and napkins and asks me to follow him. He leads me into what was probably once the parlor. There's a magnificent grand piano sitting at an angle in front of the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The room appears to lack a lot of the modern-day electronics. They might just be well-concealed so as not to spoil the beauty and integrity of the original dcor of the room, though. He puts the pizza down and grabs two giant pillows from the corner for us to sit on. There's a fire crackling slowly in the fireplace, clearly setting the stage for a romantic evening, I think as I pull up a cushion to sit down. We sit on the floor, eating what has to be the best pizza I have ever tasted. He picks up a remote, for what I'm sure, because I don't see any TV's in the room. He pushes a button and two
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hidden panels on the wall across from where we're seated slide apart revealing an extremely large flat panel TV. He gets up and puts in a DVD, and then rejoins me on the floor. When we've had our fill of pizza, we watch the movie, quietly enjoying each other's company. It surprises me how at-ease I feel around him. How being with him just seems so natural. After the movie, he turns off the TV and presses the remote control to make it disappear literally back into the woodwork. "C'mon, I'll give you the grand tour, if you want," he offers, standing. Holding out his hand he pulls me easily to my feet. The formal living room is a large room, with another large stone fireplace; this one even larger than the one in the parlor. On the wall above the fireplace, there is an enormous portrait of a striking dark-haired woman dressed in a gorgeous teal-colored gown. She is wearing a stunning aquamarine pendant, which matches the dress perfectly. I noticed that her eyes are the same aqua-blue as Logan's. "Who's that, Logan?" I ask, pointing up to the woman in the portrait. "My Great-Great Grandmother Decker," he says, taking my hand. "This was her house once." The place is beautifully furnished, but I notice there is remarkably little, if any, personalization. We might just as easily be touring a museum, rather than someone's private residence. There are no family photos, other than the portrait, no trinkets or knickknacks. It not only looks like a museum, it feels like one too. Nothing makes it feel "homey" I think to myself. There isn't even a book or a magazine lying around. Nothing out of place, a little too perfect in my opinion.
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When Logan shows me his room, it at least has more of a lived-in feel to it. Right down to the fat yellow tabby cat lying on the end of his bed. "That's Peaches," he said referring to the cat. "She sometimes lets me sleep with her." Scanning the room, I see several sketches with Logan's name signed to them, some family photographs -- obviously from a happier time, a bulletin-board with an assortment of newspaper clippings, and a large wooden book case that holds several trophies and a few books. I walk over to his desk and pick up a silver-framed photo of a pretty dark-haired, blue-eyed woman holding a wide-eyed little boy's hand. Logan comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. "That was my mother, I was about five or six there I think," he says softly. "She was beautiful." Logan turns me around slowly, removes the picture from my hands and places it face down on the desk. "I think that it's time we finish our conversation from last night," he tells me looking down, avoiding my eyes. "Let's go back downstairs." He links his arm with mine and leads the way back down to the dimly-lit parlor. We sit facing one another on the floor pillows in front of the fireplace. Taking a deep breath, he begins, "This is really hard for me to talk about with anyone. It's still a pretty painful memory, but I think that in order for you to understand me, understand my moods and why I am the way I am I have to tell you. That and it's better if you hear the truth from me, instead of the rumors going around."
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He gets up, walks over to the book shelf along the wall, and retrieves a thick, leatherbound book which resembles a scrapbook or photo album from the bottom shelf. Walking back over to where I'm sitting, he hands me the book. "Here, I'd rather you wait to look at this later, after you leave tonight. It will help fill in any missing pieces, answering any questions you might have once you've heard what I have to say, ok?" He asks quietly. I nod and place the book in my lap. Folding my hands on top of it, I look at him expectantly waiting for him to continue. "I don't exactly know how or where to begin. I'll give you some history about myself first," he pauses searching for the right words. "I was a jock at Garfield High. I was well liked, which seems strange when I think about it now, because I really wasn't a very nice person. I think that side of me still comes out sometimes, and I know you've noticed it from time to time. I can be cocky and seem like I'm pretty self-assured." I nod, he's right. I have seen that side of his personality many times. "Ironic isn't it, that the more popular you are, the more you think you have the right to be a jerk?" He scowls. "I was a sophomore and already a starter on the varsity football team. I had a girlfriend; she was on the cheerleading squad. She was the girl everyone just expected me to date. You know, the most popular guy dating the most popular girl. I was an all-American boy" he shakes his head. "My parents bought me a new car for my sixteenth birthday, with the stipulation that I keep my grades up and stay out of trouble. Keeping my grades up was easy and so was staying out of trouble if you're smart enough not to get caught or when people look the other way.
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"So, I was popular, a local football hero, I got decent grades, and I was dating the most popular girl in the tenth grade. I thought I was pretty much invincible, above it all, ya know?" He pauses shaking his head. "My best friend was Jay Jackson, everyone called him JJ. He was a couple of months younger than me, and didn't have his license yet so everywhere we went, I drove. It was Valentine's Day. It snowed all day, but then it always seemed to be snowing in Chicago, especially in February. I drove over to pick up JJ, and we were going to pick up our dates for Valentine's dinner. "The roads were icy in places, but going out for Valentine's Day dinner was one of those things that unless you were snow-bound and stranded somewhere, you weren't going to get out of doing. We really weren't too concerned about the road conditions. That invincible thing... "JJ and I were like most other guys our age; we drank a little now and then. Neither of us was a real drinker, though. You know a few shots of something to take the edge off, to help us loosen up. JJ had a flask. He took a few swigs and handed it to me. I took a couple big gulps. Hell, I can't even tell you what it was now. Brandy maybe," he pauses looking at me silently, as if searching for my reaction to what he's told me so far or for the right words to continue. "Go on." I urge softly. "We were on our way across town to pick up Dani -- JJ's girlfriend of the moment -- and my date, Claire. They were waiting for us at Dani's house. "I don't actually know what happened next, it all sort of blurs together for me. The stories from the newspapers, which are in that book," he nods to the book I'm holding in my lap, "fill in most of the missing pieces a little too well, probably. I mean I know what happened. I won't
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ever forget that. But big pieces of the night are missing. I think shock does that to a person as a type of coping mechanism. "I honestly didn't have that much to drink; they said my blood-alcohol level was under the legal limit. Barely under, but still. I must have taken my eyes of the road for a split second. I crossed the center line into the path of an on-coming SUV. I swerved hard back, but I caught a patch of black ice and skidded out of control. We hit practically head-on. I think I blacked out for a minute and when I came to I smelled gas. All I wanted to do was get away from the wreckage before it exploded. I managed to crawl away before blacking out again. But apparently I was still too close. "When I woke up, I was in the hospital burn unit. I'd suffered severe burns over the right side of my body," he pauses extending his right hand, he runs it down the side of his scarred face. "The scars you can't see, the ones on my upper body are even worse. They are a hideous reminder every day when I look at myself in the mirror. The reason I walk with a limp?" He stops talking and reaches down to slip off his shoe. Pushing his pants leg up, revealing a prosthetic leg. I'm not sure how much of his leg he lost in the accident. As if reading my mind, he continues. "They had to amputate my leg just below the knee," he swallows hard. Now, I know why he told me his leg wouldn't be getting better and the reason we won't be running together. "Your friend, JJ?" I choke out; my mouth suddenly beyond dry. "JJ didn't make it. They said he died instantly. I guess. Either that or the fire... You can read all the graphic details in the newspaper clippings," he tells me.
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"Okay," I mumble feebly. "You said you were responsible for two people dying. I take it the other person was the driver of the SUV?" Logan looks away from me before he buries his face in his hands. I can see that he's trembling all over as if he is suddenly freezing. "Logan? What is it?" I ask putting my hand on his shoulder. Slowly he takes my hand in his, without looking at me, he continues. "Oh God. Yes, the other fatality that night was the driver of the SUV. I've asked myself every day what are the odds. The driver of that SUV? It was my own mother," he shudders and begins to sob. I don't know what to say. I know I am probably feeling nearly as lost and helpless as he is. To say I'm sorry seems so lame, but I am sorry. Sorry for the pain he feels. Sorry for everything he's been through -- and is still going through -- because of it. I can't take the pain away; I can't fix it or make it all better. I'm amazed he is able to open up at all. Reaching out, I gently pull him into my arms. How do you tell someone that it's going to be all right when you aren't quite sure it ever can be? Words fail me, but holding him feels like the right thing to do and it seems to comfort him, so that's what I do. I'm not sure how long we sit clinging to each other, rocking back and forth, but it must be for quite awhile. I hear a clock's toll eleven times from somewhere in the museum-like house. It's late, and even though I don't want to leave him like this, I know that I have to. I need time to absorb what he's just told me. Not that it will change how I feel about him, but I'm numb right now and not really sure what to even say at this point. "Logan, sweetie, I need to go home. Will you be ok?" I ask, searching his eyes for a glimmer of something, anything at all.
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I feel him take a deep breath and let out a big sigh. "I'll be okay," he whispers. Standing up, he pulls me up with him and hugs me tightly -both of us are reluctant to pull apart. I kiss him good-night at the door and run to my car. I'm shivering, and not just from the frigid night air. I will sleep on it tonight and read through the scrapbook he gave me tomorrow.
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Chapter 24 Though my mind protests, my body is exhausted and wins out in the struggle for sleep. I don't stir until almost noon on Sunday. It has been an extremely hard weekend, emotionally speaking. Not just for me, but for everyone around. With the accident Friday night and what Logan told me last night, I feel a little bit like a zombie. I still have a lot of questions. But I'm no longer afraid of Logan. The stories and whispers going around about him are all just that, stories. Chicago is one of the largest cities in the United States, and accidents happen there every day; many times over. Like the tragedy that happened here on Friday night. In a town the size of Disappointment Cove, it's a given -- if someone has an accident -- you probably know them or know someone who knows them. Obviously, those odds decrease when the population increases. But even large cities have smaller communities pocketed within. I read somewhere once that statistically, something like fifty-two percent of all car accidents occur within five miles of the home. I find it unfathomable that in a city the size of Chicago, Logan had the ultimate misfortune of being the driver responsible for the crash that not only killed his best friend, but his mother, too. Improbable? Yes. Impossible? No. It's a lot to try to wrap my head around right now. It's sure not what I expected I guess. But then I really don't know what I was expecting. I can't begin to imagine the pain he's been through. Not just physically, but mentally, too. Supposedly our biggest chances for growth in life come through our most painful experiences. You know, that which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger? It makes me wonder if it's all worth it sometimes. It also makes me look at my own problems as being small and insignificant in comparison. Taking a deep breath, I sigh and swing my feet out from under the covers out of my warm bed. It's all giving me a headache, and it's way too early on a Sunday morning to be
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thinking this hard. Sunday mornings are for things like pancakes or eggs and bacon, not trying to figure out what to do next with my oh-so-complicated love life. I throw on my cleanest dirty sweats and head downstairs. "Good morning, sleepy-head," Grandma Sarah says, glancing up from reading the Sunday edition of the Disappointment Cove Register. "There's some bacon and scrambled eggs on the stove. You might need to re-heat them." "It sure smells good," I admit and grab the orange juice from the fridge. "Any more news about the accident?" "Not much, really. Just that there will be grief counselors on hand for anyone who wants to discuss what happened. Oh, and school will be delayed Monday morning, everyone's supposed to meet in the all-purpose room for an assembly at nine." I warm up the eggs and bacon on top of the stove in silence as I think about what I'm going to do today. It looks as though it's going to be another rainy day after yesterday's reprieve. There's laundry to take care of, unless I want to wear something dirty to school tomorrow -- which I don't. I have some homework, especially since I'd planned on doing it during first period tomorrow. That won't be happening now with the assembly. Logan calls just as I sit down to eat my breakfast, "Hey Trinity. Are you going out to Akers of Love today?" He asks. "Hi Logan," I push the eggs around on my plate. "Not today. I have a lot to do around here," "Oh. Okay then. I'll see if I can get a ride with Aunt Gayle," he says. "I'll talk to you later." "Sure. Say hi to Babs for me."
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We hang up and Grandma Sarah is giving me the stare down. "What?" I ask. "Nothing. I'm just surprised you don't want to see him," she pulls the paper back up so I can't see her face. "Not to mention the fact that you're not going out to Akers of Love." "I have a lot to do. Homework. Laundry." She puts the paper down on the table and looks at me again, "Did you have a falling out with that boy?" I roll my eyes, "Please Grandma Sarah. No." She's still giving me the eye and I know that she's not going to just let it drop because she can read me like a book. I didn't realize I was so transparent until I moved in here with her. "Well, something must have happened," she sighs. "Why don't you tell me about it?" I shrug and push back from the table to put my plate in the dishwasher. "Remember the rumors you heard about him. About an accident?" "Yes, but it's not like you to buy into all that rumor nonsense," she scowls. I sit back down at the table and tell her the whole story that Logan told me last night. When I finish, I don't know what I expect her to do or say, but somehow, I feel better just getting it off my chest. "That poor boy," she shakes her head. "What are you going to do?" "It's a lot to try to wrap my head around," I say. "I can't begin to imagine the pain he's been through." "It couldn't have been easy for him to talk about, I'm sure." "I feel so helpless. You know me. Being at a loss for words isn't usually a problem."
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"Seems to me the hard part's over. He trusted you enough to open up and be honest with you. Now, it's up to you to continue to be there for him." "I'm not sure I'm up to the task of fixing him," I sigh and fold my arms across my chest. Grandma Sarah smiles, "Dear, it's not your job to fix him. You're here to give him the strength to fix himself. Who knows. Maybe you'll get fixed in the process." It's my turn to give her a look, "I'm not broken." "Maybe. Maybe not," she smiles. "Good talk," I mumble as I head toward the back stairs to grab a load of laundry. I gather a basket-full of darks, which is practically everything I own, and throw them in the washer. While they're washing, I sit at my desk and put some notes together for my English Lit assignment. My mind keeps wandering back to the black scrap book that Logan gave me to read. It's hard trying to keep my mind on the English Lit assignment with that thing staring me in the face. I take another load of dirty clothes down to the laundry room and grab a soda from the kitchen while I'm there. My phone rings as I'm on my way back to my room. "Hey Pete," I take a sip from my Diet Coke. "Hi Trin. Did you see the paper today? About school being delayed, and the assembly tomorrow morning?" She asks. "Yeah, that's what Grandma Sarah told me. I'm doing my English Lit homework now. Well, that and laundry. Fun, fun," I tell her, trying to keep the mood light. I've had enough heavy this weekend to last me a long time. "I hear ya. I wanted to see if you feel like going with me to Cove Caf tonight?"
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"Sure, I guess. What time?" I ask. "How about four-ish? Aimee's working, her shift starts at three. I figure we'll beat the dinner crowd if we go a little early," she suggests. "Ok, that'll give me time to get a few things done around here before then," I tell her, glancing at the scrapbook. "K. Wanna just swing by and pick me up?" "Yep, see you around four," I say, flipping the phone closed. I finish laundry and work on my English Lit notes until I just can't take the suspense any longer. Picking up the scrapbook, I settle in on top of the bed to look through it. Everything is in the book. It starts with clippings of Logan as an emerging star varsity football player at Garfield High. There are family photos from an obviously happier, earlier time. Logan with his friends, and posing with a pretty blonde girl. I get the feeling that the scrap book had been started by Logan's mother. Probably about the time he entered high school so he'd have something to look back on when he got older, things he might possibly want to share with his own children some day. Yeah this part of the scrapbook had been pieced together with love, I can feel it. When I get to the pages about the accident, and the time immediately following the accident, the mood of the book changes. I can't imagine anyone wanting to keep this stuff, and preserve painful memories that I'm sure he'd rather forget. Something tells me that Logan's father is responsible for this part of the book. Almost as if it's Logan's punishment for what happened to his mother. The resentment and animosity Mason Sharpe carries toward his only son almost leaps off the pages.
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Everything here answers a lot of the questions I had after our talk last night. There are photos from the crash, detailed newspaper articles describing the accident, the legal issues that Logan faced afterwards, etc. I feel depressed and a little bit sick to my stomach after thumbing through the book and I close it. One question that remains unanswered is whether or not Logan is capable of feeling love again? I don't know, though I'm pretty sure I'm willing to find out. I pick Petri up a few minutes before four. It's still raining so I pull into her driveway and honk the horn. Cove Caf is busy when we arrive, and we're lucky Adam's already here and invites us to sit with him. I can tell he's agitated about something when we slide into the booth. "Everyone in this place is talking about the accident Friday night," he scowls. "Well it is pretty big news. I'm not surprised people are talking about it," I chip in glancing around the restaurant. "Well, yeah, but it's not so much that they're talking about it, it's what they're saying that's annoying me," he frowns and drums his fingers tirelessly on our table. "Why, what do you mean?" I put my hand on top of his to silence the annoying drumming. He leans in close to my face, "Listen, we all know Rachael wasn't exactly a pillar of the community. I mean, let's face it, everyone knows her dad's never home and her mom's a drunk." "Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything? I mean, a little respect for the dead, jeez!" Petri tells him over the top of the laminated menu. Adam scowls at her, "Here's the deal they've got Fletcher Hudson so far up on a pedestal, he's practically a Saint in their eyes. Everyone's talking about poor Mr. and Mrs.
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Hudson. And they're telling it like the whole accident had to have been Rachael's fault, as if she were driving the car herself," he glances around, glaring at anyone who looks his way. "You're kidding, right?" I shake my head in disbelief. "Oh no I'm not kidding. I heard that man up there," he points to the counter where Aimee is busy refilling bottomless coffee cups, "come right and say Rachael was probably driving the car, even though witnesses said Fletcher was behind the wheel." "That's just crazy!" I frown. "I know it's crazy. These people think just because he was some star football player, he couldn't possibly have been at fault. 'Such a good kid,' make me puke. There must've been two Fletcher Hudson's. The one these people are talking about and the one that gave Rachael Higgins a black eye last week." Adam's voice is loud enough that several people turn around to gawk. "I know Adam. But it is what it is," Petri sighs as she studies the as if it ever changes, as if she ever orders anything other than a plain cheeseburger with onion rings. We sit awhile, place our orders, eat our food and try to keep Adam from making a scene. We agree with him, but there isn't a whole lot we can do about the situation, especially sitting in a booth at Cove Caf. Trying to prove our point to a restaurant full of small town good old boy isn't likely to win us any friends.
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Chapter 25 Monday morning everyone gathers quietly in the all-purpose room for the assembly. The atmosphere is more somber than the room usually inspires. Principal Zimmerman addresses the group, advising that grief counselors will be arriving later this morning, and they will be available at least through the end of the week for anyone who wants to talk about what happened. He speaks briefly about Fletcher and Rachael and their respective families. He tells us memorials have been established at Disappointment Cove First Bank and Trust for anyone wishing to donate. We can also leave our donations in the office and they will be taken to the bank later. A few of the girls dab mascara-smeared eyes with tissues. The guys are uncharacteristically quiet and mostly just stare at their hands. From the murmurs rippling through the bleachers it's obvious what the majority of the students believe about the accident. Adam and I exchange glances a couple of times over something we overhear. I scan the packed all-purpose room a few times looking for Logan, but he doesn't appear to be here. He may have decided to skip the assembly intentionally. I'm sure it could stir up a lot of painful memories for him. Either that or his dad has him locked up on the third floor in the Decker Mansion's turret room. Not really, but it's pretty easy for me to judge Mr. Sharpe in a not-so-favorable way after reading through the scrapbook. If you ask me, he's a bitter man. Maybe my opinion has something to do with the glares he's sent my way. I get an all-over body shiver just thinking about him. They give us twenty minutes after the assembly to regroup before we have to be to our first classes of the morning.
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Adam, Aimee, Petri and I stand by my locker talking. Adam is still disgruntled about the conversation we had at Cove Caf last night. He's obviously in a crappy mood, and I don't want to get into a discussion with him about it again right now. Though I doubt it would be much of a debate, since I'm on his side. I agree with pretty much everything he observed last night. "I have some of my monthly 'mad money' from Daddy Dearest, and I'd like to donate something." I tell them, swapping some books out of my locker for a couple in my backpack. My monthly "mad money" is more or less guilt money my dad sends me once a month. A tidy little sum keeping me in clothes, books, gas money and other necessities. I'm a simple person, and I rarely spend it all, so donating is something worthy I can do with the money. Suddenly, I feel someone standing behind me. Maybe because Petri has stopped her chatter and is peering over my head. Everyone else looks over my head expectantly. I turn around to see who it is. In all of his tall, dark and handsomeness, it's Logan. He always looks so freaking hot. Of course that could be my totally biased opinion though. "Good morning, Logan," I smile at him with my best damn-you-look-hot-it's-great-tosee-you smile. "Hey," he responds with an equally awesome smile. The three people I'm standing with exchange knowing glances. For some reason they decide to vanish now that Logan's arrived. "Ok. On that note, I'm off to English Lit," Aimee announces. Petri and Adam also disperse quietly to their first classes of the morning. "You sure now how to clear a room," I tease, readying my backpack for class. "I guess," he says as he fake-sniffs his armpits. "Do I smell that bad?" "No worse than usual," I laugh. "I looked for you at the assembly this morning."
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"I just got here. Dad dropped me off on his way out of town." "He's going out of town again?" I ask, reaching back inside my locker to hang up my jacket, suddenly feeling warm. "Yeah, it's always something with him," he scowls. "Ready for Spanish?" I change the subject from his father to something I like about as much. "Can't wait," he says rolling his eyes. "At least you understand her. I catch about every other word she says," I shake my head and we make our way to Mrs. G's Spanish class just before the bell rings. After class, I remind Logan we have an Outreach Program meeting later. "I hope she lets me continue working at Akers of Love," he tells me quietly. "I like working with the dogs." I smile, "Me too. I'm sure Babs will put in a good word for you. We still need you out there with all the extra dogs there from the puppy mill rescue." "That's true," he shuffles his book back to his other shoulder away from me and takes my hand. "I'll see you at lunch." I give his hand a quick squeeze and meet his eyes, "Okay, see you then." We go our separate ways and I catch up with Petri outside the Home Ec. room before the bell rings. "I still don't know how you managed to get switched to the same Home Ec. class as me," I tell her. She shrugs and smiles broadly, "It wasn't easy."
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Somehow, I doubt the truth of that statement. Petri has ways of getting what she wants without even trying. During class we work together baking muffins. Well, I bake... and she watches. Pete's not much of a domestic goddess. "Did you ever talk to Logan about the rumors?" She hands me a measuring cup heaping with flour. "Petri," I shake my head at her. "The recipe calls for a cup of flour." "Yeah? So?" She pauses and picks up the cup. "Here's a cup. The flour is clearly in there. Duh." I just roll m y eyes and sigh, "You are so hopeless." I tap the cup a couple times on the counter and level it off. Holding it up to her, "This is a cup of flour." "Whatever," she says. "You didn't answer my question about Logan." "Yes. We talked." "And?" She looks at me expectantly. "And nothing. I told you not to believe everything you hear around here." "So there's no truth in what people are saying? He didn't kill anyone in Chicago?" "I didn't say that," I tell her and beat the muffin batter a little harder, working out the frustration I feel growing. "There was an accident. That's exactly what it was. An accident." I emphasize the word 'accident' to make sure she understands. "Fine. Don't tell me then," she pouts and folds her arms across her chest defiantly. "Look Petri. There was an accident where Logan used to live. The roads were icy. Logan's best friend and his mother were killed in that accident," I turn to look at her and point
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the spoon I'm holding at her. "Nothing sinister. No serial killer. An accident that cost Logan more than you know. Okay?" "Hmm. Okay. I guess." "I'll tell you everything I know later," I glare over her shoulder at Heather Robinson. "When we're alone." Heather rolls her eyes at me flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder she turns to whisper something to Amanda Taylor. They giggle obnoxiously and I ignore them. I pop the muffins into the oven while Petri broods and flips through a magazine. Mrs. Gilmore is waiting in the hallway for me after class, "Trinity, something's come up and the Outreach Program meeting scheduled for after school needs to be held over the lunch hour," she glances at her watch. "Grab your lunch in the cafeteria, and come directly to my office." "I will, thanks Mrs. Gilmore." "Annette," she reminds me. "If you see Logan, please let him know. I'll try to catch everyone else." She turns and I watch her disappear down the hall her sensible walking shoes squeaking on the highly polished floors. Logan taps me on the shoulder, "Was that Mrs. Gilmore?" "Yeah, the Outreach Program meeting's been moved up to noon," I tell him. "Once you grab your lunch, meet in the Guidance Counselor's office." At lunch I grab a sandwich and some chips from the cafeteria and head to the meeting. Logan's already there waiting for me by the door.
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In a few minutes Annette arrives, "Thanks everyone for rearranging your schedules." She glances around the room. "It looks like we're all here so I'll get started." She takes a seat at her desk and picks up the papers on top, tapping them lightly to straighten the edges before setting them off to the side. "I have some new assignments for a few of you," she looks at the boy we all call Buzz. "Some of you will continue with the assignments you already have." From what Petri had told me, they call him Buzz because he used to be high all the time. He claims it's because he wears his hair in a buzz cut. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. We've never spoken over three words to each other the entire time I've been coming to the Outreach Program meetings. He's a big, heavy-set boy that never says much to anyone. "Bobby," she peers at him to make sure he's paying attention. "Mr. Cline would like you to continue with the project you started last month at the hardware store." Buzz nods at her, "Same days?" Annette shuffles through the papers, "Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday?" Buzz grunts, his beefy hand wraps around his Coke can, "Okay." Annette looks at Logan, "Logan, Beverly Akers would like for you to continue your work," she pauses and glances at me. "Actually she wants both of you to continue helping her with the rescue dogs. You can discuss your hours with her. Are you okay with that?" Logan and I nod, I can't speak for him, but I know that even if I were to get an assignment someplace else, I'd still make time to help Babs with the dogs. "That's fine with me," Logan agrees. "Great!" She smiles. "Okay now, the changes."
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A collective groan goes up from the remaining members and Annette holds up a hand to quiet them, "Now come on. You all don't even know what the changes are," she scolds. "Just so it's not cleaning out the park bathrooms again. Gross!" One of the girls, I think her name is Madison, points out. "It's not," Annette says while trying to suppress a smile. "As you're all aware, the upcoming Halloween dance will be held at the new community center." She gets up from her chair and comes around to sit on the corner of her desk. "Everyone -- other than Bobby, Logan and Trinity -- will help with cleaning the grounds, some minor landscaping, and then finally, decorating for the dance. You will start tonight after school." "No offense Mrs. G., but that's a pretty big project don't you think?" She scowls and plays with the cigarette lighter she's holding. "Yes, I know Madison. You start today after school and there will be plenty of help," Annette tells her and holds out her hand. "By the way, you know you're not supposed to have matches or lighters in your possession." "I think we got the short end of the stick," Madison hands the lighter over and slouches in her seat glaring at me. "I'd much rather play with the dogs at Akers of Love!" Watching her with the lighter, I remember why she's in the Outreach Program. She was arrested for starting the fire that burned down her house. I ignore the look she gives me and peer at Logan. I watch as his jaw muscles tense. I sense he'd like to tell Madison that it's not all fun and games. Working with the dogs is hard. Both physically and emotionally. "That's all I have for you today," Annette announces. "Since there's no school next Monday, our meeting will be Tuesday right after school."
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Chapter 26 The next couple of days pass uneventfully with the exception of Kyla's family moving into Kriebstein Manor. No less than three large moving vans are parked out front early in the week. I resist the urge to stop by more than once. I dont want to intrude while they're getting settled, but I'm dying to look inside of the huge old house. Logan had suggested we just drop in and offer our help, saying he's sure his aunt and uncle wouldn't mind and they'd probably appreciate the help. I suspect he's probably right, but make him swear to ask first making sure it's okay. He gives me the good news at school Wednesday. "Aunt Gayle says to stop over tonight after school. She'll be more than happy to find us some work to do," he tells me at lunch. "Are you sure?" I peer at him skeptically. "Yes, I'm sure. You still want to go, right?" "Duh! Are you kidding me? Of course I do!" I squeal, barely able to contain my excitement. "Ok, it's a date. We'll go right after school," he grins and steals one of my potato chips. "Where are you two going after school?" Petri asks as she sits her lunch tray on the table and slides in next to me. "Kriebstein Manor." "You mean that big old creepy place down our street?" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "It's not creepy," I protest, but agree silently it is a bit imposing. "Ok, maybe it's a little creepy." "That Dr. killed himself in that house. No thank you," she says, exaggerating an all-over body shiver.
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"Logan's aunt and uncle are getting settled in, and I'm dying to get inside and look around. So, he asked if we could stop by and help them." I tell her. "Dying? Great choice of words, Trin," she shakes her head. "So Logan, when's Kyla start school here?" "She's finishing up at her old school, staying with some friends in Springfield while her mom and dad get things semi-organized this week. She'll be here next Monday morning," he says swinging his long legs around to watch me eat. "She'll miss the big Halloween dance this weekend," Petri whines as if the Halloween dance is the social event of the season, and really, it kind of is. I roll my eyes at her, "O.M.G. How shall she ever survive?" Doing my best Scarlett O'Hara imitation. "Whatever," she glares at me and takes a sip of her Diet Coke. "Are you two going to the Halloween dance this Saturday night?" Logan leans over and brushes his lips, feather soft, against my ear, "I'll see you later. I've got a free period, and I need to go over my Trig notes." I shiver, feeling his hot breath on my skin. I smile at him and squeeze his hand. "See ya." "No, I don't think we're going to the dance," I answer, turning my attention away from Logan's butt to Petri. "Why not? It will be so much fun!" She sticks her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I don't have a costume," I shrug. "You don't have to have a costume. A lot of people go without dressing up," she says. "Well, I hadn't planned on going and he's not asked me, so I doubt we'll be there." My tone indicates subject closed.
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Petri shakes her head at me and continues munching her veggies. My cell phone vibrates on the table and we both glance at it at the same time. I frown when I see who's texting me. "Damn." I swear under my breath. "What? Who is it?" She asks when she notices the look of disgust clouding my face. "Marco. He'd stopped bugging me for awhile, but now all of a sudden he's back at it again." "I swear to God guys have some sort of built-in radar telling them when their ex finds someone new. Their egos can't stand it." I laugh, "That or he had a fight with Melissa or something." Halloween is the anniversary of our first date. Maybe he's feeling sentimental. Fat chance, though part of me privately hopes he's miserable. His loss, I have no intention of responding to his message. After school, Logan is waiting for me by my car. All dressed in black from head-to- toe he looks so hot in the fading afternoon sun. I'm not talking hot as in he should take that hoodie off, I'm talking hot as in I might have to take my hoodie off. I giggle to myself just thinking about it. "What are you grinning about?" He asks as I approach. "You. I don't think I even need my jacket after looking at you," I say, fanning myself to try to ease the sudden rise in my temperature. "Stop it. You'll make me blush," he grins shyly. "Are you sure they're expecting us to stop by today?" I ask pulling up in front of the deserted looking house. "The place looks abandoned to me."
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"Maybe they ran to the store for something. Aunt Gayle is expecting us," Logan protests and stares out the window toward the ominous looking structure. "Well, maybe someone's here, or maybe it's unlocked," I suggest and unfasten my seatbelt. I swing my short legs out of the car. We walk through the front gates making our way up the sidewalk. The theme song from The Twilight Zone floats uninvited through my head. "Petri's right. This place is sorta creepy," I admit as we step up on to the creaking old porch. "It's just big and old. It's been empty for a long time. Though the story about Dr. Kriebstein killing himself here adds to the creep factor." Logan reaches up to knock on the front door and it creaks open noisily, also adding to the creep factor. "Looks like they left the door unlocked for us," I say, suspicious from having watched one too many horror flicks. Logan takes my hand and leads me through the large marble-floored foyer. There are boxes stacked everywhere the eyes can see, except for the narrow path to a large room off to the left which was probably once a sitting room of some sort. It's easy to imagine how it might have once looked back in the day. Now, it's just a large, empty -- except for the boxes and out of place furniture -- cold and unwelcoming space. Oh and, let's not forget, creepy. "Aunt Gayle? Are you here?" Logan calls out as we make our way through the darkened hallway toward the back of the house. I follow closely behind him, not overly eager to be left alone. "Back here Logan," a familiar female voice calls out from somewhere in front of the way we're headed.
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I feel a surge of relief wash over me knowing that someone is home after all. The ominous creaking door wasn't setting the stage for a murder mystery -- like my imagination said. I was starting to envision the scene from the horror movie where everyone yells at the screen "No! Don't go in there!" Logan's aunt Gayle comes out from the back of the house drying her hands on a towel. She greets him with a hug and kisses his cheek. She holds out her hand and smiles warmly at me. "Hello again, Trinity," she tells me. "Hi Gayle, it looks like you've got your work cut out for you," I say glancing around at the clutter surrounding us. "Yes, we certainly do. It's a bit overwhelming and hard to know where to begin," she says softly. "That's why we're here Aunt Gayle," Logan beams rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "Let's go back up to the front and start by clearing some of the boxes out of the formal living room, so we can at least get some of the furniture put where it's supposed to go," she motions with her hands indicating the space we're occupying is too narrow for her to get around us. Logan says squeezes back around me to lead the way. "Where's Uncle Collin?" "He ran over to the hardware store to pick up some supplies. He should be back soon," Gayle replies following us to the front room. We get to work clearing one box at a time. Mostly we just move boxes from one side and stack them on the other making some room for the furniture. The boxes are all marked, thankfully, indicating which room they go. Unfortunately not all of them are where they need to
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be yet. I start by taking the kitchen boxes back through the formal dining room to the kitchen and try to sort through the rest according to their designated labels. Soon, Logan's uncle walks in and acknowledges us with a brief but pleasant hello before he heads back to the kitchen with bags Homer's Hardware. Logan and I mainly concentrate our efforts in the front room, and after about an hour it's hard to see any progress has been made, though it's not from the lack of trying. Gayle comes in and watches us with her hands on her hips and just shakes her head. "I don't think we'll ever get this place looking like a home again," she says sounding dismayed by the lack of progress our hour's worth of labor has netted thus far. "It's going to take a lot of work, that's for sure," Logan admits. "Oh well. Nobody said it would be easy," she sighs. "Are you two hungry?" "Starving!" Logan and I answer in unison. "Normally, Collin would whip up something for us to eat in his kitchen. But it's going to be a few days before he'll be able to whip anything up in that war zone," she says with a laugh. "What's good to eat around here that we can order take-out -- or better yet -- delivery?" They both look at me hopefully for a suggestion. "I guess that depends on what you're hungry for," I reply. Logan suggests pizza, because Happy Jacks delivers. That and like he's told me before, he could eat pizza three times a day, seven days a week. I smile at him, "Logan, not everyone loves pizza as much as you do." "Really? You're kidding, right?" He jokes, feigning shock. "There's also Stir Crazy, if you like Chinese, and there's carry-out from Cove Cafe or the grocery store. There aren't a lot of choices, but they're all pretty decent," I say.
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"I like the idea of having something delivered; so pizza it is, if that's all right with you two?" Gayle suggests. We agree on Happy Jack's and once we decide on what kind to order, I call them on my cell phone. It just so happens that I have their number in my favorites. Like Logan, I also love pizza, just maybe not as much as he does. We unpack still more boxes, moving them from one side of the room to the other, and eventually we are able to get some of the furniture into place. It's as much fun as two people can have while doing all this work. Finally about nine, we decide to call it a night. Though it doesn't look as if a lot of progress has been made my protesting muscles are going to feel like I've moved mountains in the morning. When I get home after dropping Logan off, I notice three missed calls on my cell phone. They're all from Marco. I don't have a clue why all of a sudden he's calling me again, since I'm not returning any of the calls. The last time he bothered calling was in August sometime before school started and I thought maybe he'd finally got the hint that I'm not interested in talking to him. I'm not about to suddenly start returning -- or answering -- his calls now. Maybe if I take a hot bath my muscles won't be quite so sore in the morning. Besides, a bath will be relaxing, and it'll help me wind down for sleep. I fill the tub with hot water and bubbles I step carefully over the edge and ease myself down into the suds, lean back and close my eyes.
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Chapter 27 "Would you just ask him to go to the dance already?" Petri whines as our discussion turns once again to the upcoming Halloween dance and Logan. "I don't know. I mean, I think he'd go if I ask, but I'm not sure I want to go that bad," I tell her truthfully. "Oh come on. We're all going. Aimee is even taking off work that night to go. She's dressing up as Morticia from the Addams Family. Adam is going as Lurch." "Who are you going to be?" I ask. "Cousin It?" "I'm not sure yet," she says, ignoring the Cousin It comment. "I could definitely see Aimee as Morticia. But I think Adam should be Gomez," I tell her, pondering the options. "I suppose you could go as Wednesday Addams." She shrugs her shoulders, "I guess. I was thinking more like going as a sexy pirate wench." "Well, I'm sure you guys will figure it out," I say, pulling into my self-designated parking spot at school. "I wish you'd at least think about asking Logan to come. It will be so much fun." "I'll ask him. But I'm not sure it's something he'll want to do," I say, giving in for now just to appease her. As we head toward where Aimee and Adam are waiting, my cell phone buzzes with an incoming call. "Sonofa..." I say glancing at the display. "Marco, again." "Why is he still calling you?" She asks. As if I've got a clue what his motives are. "I don't know. I think I'll text him to leave me alone and jump in the Mississippi River. Maybe he'll get the hint and stop bugging me," I say and press "ignore" on my phone.
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"You might have to," Petri shakes her head. "Hey you two, hurry up!" Adam calls out. "It's not getting any warmer out here you know." "Shut up Susie. You didn't have to wait out here for us," Petri snaps. "Girls, girls, play nice," I tell the two of them, amused by their bickering. "Now's your chance, Trinity. Here comes Logan, ask him," Petri nudges me with her elbow. "Ask me what?" Logan says draping his arm over my shoulder casually. "They think we should go to the Halloween dance this Saturday night," I tell him rolling my eyes. "Oh they do, do they?" He says smirking. "Yeah, but I told them I haven't got a clue what Id wear for a costume," I admit. "I'm going as Morticia Addams," Aimee says cheerfully. "And Adam is going as Lurch." "I think Adam should go as Gomez," I say peering at Adam to see his reaction. "I thought about that too, but Aimee has a problem with the whole brother-sister, husband-wife thing," Adam says shrugging. "It totally creeps me out," Aimee admits, turning toward the school. "Besides, I'm built more like Lurch," Adam says, standing up tall and flexing his muscles. "Yeah tall and creepy looking..." Petri says, curling her lip in a sneer. "So, do you want to go to the dance or what?" Logan asks softly as we watch the others head inside the school. "I don't know," I shrug. "Its a little late for us to be trying to figure out costumes."
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"We could always go as Beauty and the Beast." His aqua-blue eyes twinkle mischievously. I have to look at him twice to make sure he isn't kidding. I don't feel very beauty-like, and in my eyes, Logan isn't very Beast-like. "Sure. I'd make a great Beast and you'd have no problem pulling off Beauty." I roll my eyes at his suggestion. He frowns, "That's not exactly what I had in mind and you know it." "Oh okay. I can try to put a costume together later, but youre on your own," I tell him. "I've got free period to finish my English Lit book report right now." I stand on my tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek, but he turns his head and catches my kiss on his lips instead. Winking at me, "I'll see you in Spanish class later." "Yeah later," I wave over my shoulder and I run to the library.
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Chapter 28 The rest of the week is a flurry of excited preparations for Saturday night's Halloween dance. Aimee is definitely going as Morticia Addams, Adam has decided he'll make a really gruesome looking Lurch, and Petri is going as a slightly sexier than usual Little Red Riding Hood. Logan and I are positively going as Beauty and the Beast. I have no clue what to expect from him, and I leave him on his own to put together a costume. He tells me not to worry about it, hell throw something together. That sounds a lot easier said than done, and I'm skeptical. I do some research on Google and figure out that most of the time the Beauty costume is just a yellow ball-type gown. At least with my dark hair and eyes, yellow won't be too pathetic. Even if it is my less-than-favorite color. Grandma Sarah offers to stop by the costume shop in Branson for me when she goes there on Friday morning for a luncheon with her friends. Nothing like waiting until the last minute. To my surprise she finds an actual Beauty costume in my size and I'm glad she suggested it. When I make my dramatic appearance down the main staircase after Logan arrives on Saturday night, I can tell he thinks I've done an excellent job with my last minute costume preparations. I don't bother telling him that all I had to do was slip it on over my head and zip it up. He, on the other hand, looks smoking hot in his dark blue velvet jacket with the white ruffled shirt underneath. It takes my breath away -- how perfect he looks. "I guess I didnt tell you my aunt Gayle once worked for the local theater company in Springfield. In charge of costumes," Logan admits sheepishly. "Yeah. Cheater. It would have been really nice of you to clue me in on that minor detail. You know, maybe she could have helped me out. But noooo dont worry about Trinity," I say, playfully punching him in the arm.
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"You did all right without our help. You look amazing, really," he takes my hand to his lips and kisses it in a totally gentleman way. "Oh you two look so cute together. Let me get my camera," Grandma Sarah squeals excitedly as she turns toward her reading room. I roll my eyes at Logan, and he gives me a big smile as we indulge her by posing for a few pictures with her new digital camera. "Ill have to have you show me how to put these on the computer later. Your dad will want to see them and how beautiful you both look," she says dabbing her eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. We're interrupted from our sentimental moment by the door bell. Adam has convinced his dad to let us use their Lincoln Navigator so we can all ride together to the dance. The dance is being held at the local community center in the new development on the west side of Disappointment Cove. Sitting high up on a bluff overlooking the town you can see it for miles around, especially when it's all lit up as it will be tonight. Everybody will be there; this is like one of the biggest events of the year, and the first one to be held at the all-new community center. The western edge of town is the side that sees all of the traffic entering from Branson as the highway passes through toward the lakes. When we arrive at the community center it's a few minutes after eight, and the dance hasn't yet started. Everyone is finishing up with their chili dinners and the judges are in the process of taking entries for the best costumes contest. There are a few different categories they're awarding prizes for, including the scariest female, the scariest male, the most original male and female and the best couple. We all put in our names to be considered for the prizes which will be given away later in the evening by the panel of judges.
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It starts off as a great time, and I'm glad they talked me into coming. I feel happy and fortunate to be with good friends, satisfied that our costumes all look awesome and thrilled Logan had convinced me to come. Looking around the large open space it's pretty easy to figure out who many of the costumed people are. Some of them aren't recognizable at all, though. There has always been something vaguely disturbing to me about someone leering out from behind a werewolf mask, more so when I don't know who it is. Masks creep me out. Some people are afraid of clowns, Petri included, but I dont like masked people even if I know who it is behind the mask. The dance starts just after nine. The band is a local favorite playing at most area functions and school dances. Poyson Appel is their name, so-named for the leader, Ryan Appel and his brother Sean. They play mostly 80s hair band music, which is my personal favorite. For a town this size, they're actually not too bad. Logan and I slow dance to a couple of songs before the band takes a break so the prizes can be awarded for the best costumes during intermission. Our group gets pretty lucky in the prize department. Adam wins most original male, Aimee wins most original female, and Logan and I win best couple. I'm pretty sure it's due to his half of the costume and not mine, but I have to admit, we make a pretty awesome looking Beauty and the Beast. Some dude dressed up as a walking bloody corpse wins scariest male, and he deserves it. The scariest female goes to Heather Robinson; she dressed up as the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz. It's a well-done costume, including the bright green skin. All she needs are the flying monkeys, and it would be totally complete. All caught up in the moment, laughing, and having a good time we try figuring out who all the people beneath the costumes are. I excuse myself to use the restroom which is down a
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dark hallway near the side exit of the building. It's unusually dark once the lights dim indicating the band is getting ready to start playing again. When I come out of the restroom, I notice a guy standing near the end of the hallway dressed from head to toe in a black robe; the hood pulled down over his head. It reminds me of a Satan worshiper's robe with its blood-red lining. He has a devil's mask on, and even his hands are concealed in costume, with a pair of those rubberized glove-like hands. Maybe it's my imagination, but I swear his eyes are following me. It gives me the chills watching him lean against the wall as I make my way down the hall back toward the dance floor. Unfortunately, to get past, I have to walk closer to him than I want to. I don't want to get any nearer to the devil himself than is necessary. I keep my head down and try to scurry past. Just as I reach the end of the hallway, he steps in front of me, arms folded across his chest defiantly. "What's your hurry?" He whispers in a husky voice I don't recognize. "Excuse me," I say and try slipping around him and back to where the music is again playing loudly. "I think we need to have a little chat, you and me," he snickers and latches on to my arm with one of his blood-red costume-disguised hands. I am speechless. I haven't got the slightest idea who this person is, but talking to him with the mask he's wearing is not something I'm interested in doing. He has such a tight, insistent grip on my arm with one hand while his other hand covers my mouth and I have no choice but to go where he leads. He nudges me forcefully back down the hall toward the side exit doors. I try to pull away from him, which only causes him to tighten his grip painfully digging into my arm.
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"I don't know just who the hell you think you are!" I hiss at him as he removes his hand from my mouth to push me through the doors. I hope I sound a whole lot more confident than I feel. When he gets me outside, he shoves me hard toward the pitch black parking lot near the back of the building; I stumble trying to keep myself from falling flat on my face. Slowly, he removes his hood and mask. He stands in front of me laughing; obviously quite pleased with himself. Looking into that familiar smug face of his, all I can think is how badly I want to kick him, and kick him hard for scaring me half to death. I am so not laughing. "What do you think you're doing, Marco? Have you lost your freaking mind?" I scream at him shivering both from the anger I feel and the cold night air. "I want to talk to you. I've tried calling you, and you won't return my calls, so I decided to drive down here and talk to you face to face," he leers. "How did you know where to find me?" I ask him. "Since you wouldnt answer your phone, I called your Grandma Sarah yesterday, and she mentioned she was in Branson picking up a costume for you to wear to the Halloween dance tonight. Didn't she tell you I called?" "No, she did not tell me you called. She must not have thought it was important enough to mention," I say between clenched teeth. "Knowing how much you love Halloween and it being our anniversary and all, I thought I'd just get in the car and drive down here to surprise you. Like my costume?" He smirks at me as he slowly turns in a circle modeling. "Yeah it suits you perfectly," I say sneering. "Where's Melissa?"
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"We broke up. The only thing we had in common was you, and when you weren't in the picture, when you stopped talking to us both, well Melissa and I sort of ran out of things to talk about," he says and suddenly pulls me to him. So close his breath is hot on my face. From the sour smell of it, I can tell he's been drinking. "Marco, did it ever occur to you when I didn't return your calls maybe it was a hint that I'm not the least bit interested in getting back together with you?" I say while trying to push him away from me. "I know, but that was before you knew about me and Melissa breaking up. I figured that once you heard the truth you'd want me back, give me another chance." He sounds pretty sure of himself. I twist my head to the side in disgust so I don't have to look at him, "Seriously dude, I've moved on, really. It would never work between us anyway. You live in St. Louis. I live here. Long distance relationships dont work out, and especially not ones with someone like you -- a lying, cheat who's looking for someone new the minute their girlfriend's back is turned." I feel a whole lot of repressed anger behind what I'm saying. I never told him off before. I had kept it all bottled up inside. What I should have told him before has simmered to a boiling point these past months and now it's pouring out with a vengeance. "You don't mean that. We were good together Trin. I think you should give me another chance to make things right," he says bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. "Give you another chance to cheat on me, you mean? No thanks." I tell him, trying to squirm out of his grip. I am so through with this conversation. I've said everything I need to say. Since I'm a lover and not a fighter, it's time for him to let me go before I haul off and kick him -hard -- right where it counts.
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When I shove him away from me, he grabs my arm forcefully and pushes me back against the hard, cold brick wall of the building. He puts his mouth insistently on mine. Since he outweighs me by a full eighty pounds, it doesn't do me much good to put up a fight, but when I get free, I intend on smacking the smugness right off his face twice for good measure. In an instant, someone is pulling him off of me. Logan grabs Marco, spinning him around he nails his jaw with a solid left hook that knocks him flat on his back. Logan scrambles after him, and it's clear he doesn't plan on stopping with just one punch. "Logan! Stop it, please!" I shout, grabbing at the back of his shirt trying to hold him back from beating Marco senseless. By this time, Petri has wrapped her arms around me from behind and is pulling me away from the fight. Adam's got Logan around the waist trying to keep him from inflicting more damage, while shouting at Marco to get the hell out of here if he knows what's good for him. I break down and start to cry. I'm not one for crying, but all of this repressed emotion is churning inside me. I'd never seen that side of Marco before, and I never saw Logan with such intense hatred in his aqua-blue eyes. It's all just a little bit overwhelming for me right now. I look up and recognize Aimee heading our way with the bloody-corpse looking dude close behind. I cringe away from him, until I realize it's Derrick Brotherton. Derrick and Adam convince Logan that Marco isnt worth it, and we walk back toward the entrance, as Marco spins gravel, fishtailing out of the parking lot. "I'm sorry you guys. I dont know why he showed up here," I say, wiping my eyes, shaking from the cold and the adrenaline rush I have from wanting to beat the crap out of Marco myself.
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Logan hugs me tight, peering at me carefully, "Are you all right? He didnt hurt you did he?" "No. I'm fine, really. Just a little shaken up that's all. But, no, he didn't hurt me," I say, burying my head in his chest. When we pull apart, I notice Logan rubbing his left hand. "Did you hurt your hand? Are you ok?" I ask him. "I'm fine. But I don't care if I broke it; he deserved it." Logan says through clenched teeth. "Who was that dude?" Derrick asks. "Just my ex-boyfriend from St. Louis, trust me, nobody important," I sigh, suddenly feeling more than ready to leave the dance. "Adam, would you mind taking me home? I've sort of lost my partying mood." "Oh heck no, Trinity. I've been ready to go since we won our prizes," he tells me and pulls me into a one-armed hug. "If you don't mind, I can give Aimee a ride home. I mean if that's ok with Aimee?" Derrick asks, looking at her hopefully. "I'd like to stay, if no one minds?" Aimee responds, watching eagerly for our reactions. We pile into the Navigator, and Adam drops Petri off at her house then takes Logan and me to my house. "Thanks for driving, Adam. Tell your dad thanks for letting us take the Lincoln tonight. I hope I didn't ruin everyone's night," I cringe embarrassed. "Trinity... puh-leaze. You did not ruin anyone's night. I had a good time," Adam assures me adding as Logan and I climb from the car, "Be careful, you two."
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"Logan, do you want to come in for awhile? Its still early," I ask, hoping to spend some quiet time alone with him before I take him home. "Are you sure it's ok? You don't want to take me home and get rid of me for the night? I mean after seeing me lose my temper like that earlier," he stares at the ground avoiding my eyes. "What are you talking about? If you hadn't shown up when you did, I was going to punch him myself. I'm just glad you did, because you hitting him made more of a statement than me doing it. I really would have broken my hand," I tell him truthfully. "So, please come in for awhile?" He gives me a shy smile, "Okay, I'd like that." I sigh and take his hand in mine as we walk up the steps onto the porch. Once inside, I put some ice in a plastic bag and wrap it in a towel, "Here put this on your hand, it'll help keep the swelling down." "It's fine, really," he mutters a feeble protest. "Humor me here, okay? Just do it," I order, not taking no for an answer. "Please?" Grandma Sarah makes the best brownies from scratch. I decide that the fresh-bakedtoday pan of them sitting on the counter looks good, and they'd be even better with some ice cream. I dish out two healthy portions, and we eat in silence. I can tell something's bothering him, so I ask if he's okay. "I couldnt tell for sure tonight if you were ditching me for that guy or what was going on when I first walked outside to look for you," he says as he swirls his ice cream around, playing with his food. I stop chewing and search his face for some indication he can't possibly think I'd do something like that.
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I reach across the table, taking his hand in mine and squeeze it reassuringly, "Logan, don't be silly." "You disappeared and I thought when I found you with him that maybe you wanted him to kiss you... at first anyway," he says, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. I shake my head, "No. I most certainly did not enjoy that kiss. Marco ditched me for my ex-best friend this past summer. He's been calling and texting all week. I haven't even bothered responding to him, and I never imagined he would take it upon himself to just drive down here uninvited. I thought he might have got the hint when I didn't answer him or return his calls. He was always pretty thick-headed, though." "It's been so long since I've opened up to let anyone in and I don't know I guess I'm just afraid you'll find someone with less of a, umm, history," he breathes out a heavy sigh slumping his shoulders. "I'm not looking for anyone else," I tell him quietly, looking into his eyes for some sign that he understands what I'm saying. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'm no prize, Trinity. I mean look at me. Scars on my face, scars on my hand, a fake leg and the worst scars... you haven't even seen those. I look like a freak under these clothes," he tells me. I can see his jaw muscles clench, and I can tell he's feeling very tense about the subject. "Logan, about the scars, I couldn't care less. In my eyes, you're beautiful," I reach my hand out to gently stroke the dark hair from his face. "Not even close," he says, standing suddenly. "Maybe you'd better take me home. This has been a long night and I need to think about some things and clear my head."
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"Yeah because this is all about you," I reply a little too tersely as I feel my stomach tense up the way it does when I start to worry. I know something more than tonight's scene with Marco is bothering him, but I also know by the tone of his voice he isn't in the mood to discuss it further tonight. He looks crestfallen, but doesn't offer anything in his defense. I drive him home, and watch as he limps slowly up the sidewalk toward the dark house.
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Chapter 29 Sunday morning Petri's familiar ring on my cell causes me to stir from my fitful night's sleep. "I'm just calling to see how you are this morning, after that whole Marco thing last night," she says quietly. "I'm ok I guess. I'm betting Marco won't be a problem for me anymore," I grimace and absent-mindedly rub my aching shoulders. "I bet you're right. Logan sure let him have it, huh?" She reminds me, sounding a lot more cheerful about it than I am. "Yeah he did. But now I think Logan's worried that I still have feelings for Marco or that somehow I'd rather be with him," I tell her as I prop myself up with my pillows. "What? You can't be serious. Why in the name of all that's holy would Logan think something like that?" "He's got some self-esteem issues, I guess." "Really? Because most of the time he seems so sure of himself. A little moody maybe, but everyone can see how crazy you are about each other," she tries to reassure me. "I know, right?" I agree, starting to feel uncomfortable talking about it right now. "So... have you talked to Aimee yet to see how the rest of her night went? Derrick was following her around like a lost puppy dog." "No, not yet. But I'm sure she'll call soon with all the details," Petri says with a snort. "Well maybe one of us got lucky." "Yeah no kidding. Well, I guess that's really all I wanted... to see how you're doing. If I talk to Aimee, I'll tell her to call you." "Sounds good. I'll talk to you later." I tell her and hang up.
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I slip out of the warm bed and pad across the cold hardwood floor. Grabbing my fuzzy robe I pat my leg and call for Mr. Magoo to follow and we head down to the kitchen. "Good morning dear, how did the dance go last night? Did you have a good time?" Grandma Sarah asks cheerfully while blowing on her coffee to cool it down from scalding level. "It was okay. Logan and I won best costume for the couple's category," I say, trying to focus on the highlights of last night. "You two sure looked cute together in your costumes. I'm not surprised you won something." "Grandma Sarah, did you happen to talk to Marco Friday?" I ask as I stick two slices of bread in the toaster. "Oh yes. I forgot to tell you that he called the other day. He said he'd been trying to call your cell and wasn't able to reach you," she says glancing at me with a blank look on her face. "Why do you ask?" "He showed up at the dance last night," I say wrinkling my nose recalling the foul odor of his breath in my face as he tried kissing me. "Oh dear. I hope he didn't cause any trouble for you and Logan. I like Logan," she says shaking her head. "I think things are ok. But it wasn't because Marco didn't try causing trouble. Logan ended up punching him and sent him running back to St. Louis with his tail between his legs," I smile as I remember the look of defeat on Marco's face from the parking lot. "I hope he got the hint and will think twice before he drives back down here uninvited again," she says softly.
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After breakfast I decide to get dressed and drive out to see if Babs needs my help. I could use a distraction to take my mind off Logan, Marco, and everything else at the moment. I slip in through the back door and find Babs going over some paperwork in her office. She looks up when I walk in, "Good morning Sunshine," she smiles. "Morning," I sigh. "Uh-oh. What's wrong?" She peers over the top of her reading glasses at me. I told her the whole story about what had happened last night and how Logan seemed to pull away from me. "I just don't understand him sometimes," I tell her. "Ha! As soon as you find a way to figure out men, let me know, will ya?" She smiles. When she sees that I'm not in the mood for jokes, she motions for me to have a seat across from her. "He'll be ok. You probably just scared him, that's all." "I scared him? What do you mean I scared him?" I stare at her in disbelief, wondering how it is that everything turns back around on me. "Maybe he thought you were ditching him. He has self-esteem issues. Worse than anyone I've ever seen, even worse than you," she glances at me for see my reaction to her news flash. "Hardly! Helen Keller could see that I was so not enjoying myself with Marco," I say harshly. "It's his low confidence level. I know sometimes he comes across all self-assured, but that's an act. He's not self-assured at all, really." "He doesn't have anything to worry about." "You know that, I know that. Eventually, hopefully, he'll know that. But for right now, you're going to have to be patient with him," she cautions.
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"Isn't there anything I can do to convince him?" I ask suddenly afraid he'll just decide I'm not worth it. "Just be yourself and have patience. You can't hurry fate," she says, imparting her wisdom on me once again. "Oh wise one, how you humble me with your wisdom. You make it sound so easy," I say, sarcasm seeping into my voice. "Whoever told you love was easy, they lied." "Is anything ever easy when it comes to my love life?" I roll my eyes. "I doubt it's any easier for him. In fact, it's probably harder for him than it is for you," she suggests. "Okay, Ill try not to take it personally, and I'll try to be patient, though I really didn't do anything to make him sulk off to lick his wounds," I shrug, feeling sorry for myself. "You didn't do anything wrong and I don't think he blames you. His past causes him to pull back," she tells me. Standing, she walks around to where I sit and reaches for my hand. "Come on. Let's go see the puppies. That should put a smile on your face." I brighten at the prospect of seeing Abby's new family and let her lead the way. I help Babs with the dogs into the afternoon. Once everything we can do for the day is done, I head home. As I'm pulling into the garage, Aimee calls. "Trinity, how are you?" Aimee asks. "I'm fine, but I think what the question really should be is how are you?" "I had an awesome time with Derrick. He drove me home and kissed me goodnight." Aimee practically squeals.
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"I'm glad to hear one of us had a good time last night," I say. "Soooo is he a good kisser?" "Yes, as a matter-of-fact he is a great kisser!" She giggles. "And when are you going out again?" "Friday night. We're going to a movie. He's so hot. I can't believe how hot he is, and he likes me!" She says. I can practically feel her vibrating with excitement through the phone. "I think he's liked you for awhile now. I'm so happy the two of you are finally going out!" I tell her honestly. "He's always been so nice to me when he comes into the caf. I kind of thought maybe he liked me, but I wasn't sure, ya know?" "Yeah I know what you mean." "So, anyway, I had to call you and tell you. Petri said you'd want to know what happened after you guys left. So now you know the rest of the story," she giggles. "I'm really happy for you! 'Bout time one of us has a little good news with our love life." "Ha! You're the one who landed a guy first!" "I wouldn't say I've exactly landed Logan," I sigh. "Just a matter of time, he's so into you, he has been practically since day one," she says before we hang up. Aimee has liked Derrick for a long time, and we had always suspected he liked her but he would never do anything about it. I kept telling her it was because he's too shy. Petri told her she just needed to ask him out. Adam told her she intimidated him, and he was afraid to ask her out - which was probably partly true. Funny how we are all so good at helping other people with their love life, but when it comes to our own, we suck.
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I realize it's already after four, and I've only eaten the two pieces of toast I had earlier for breakfast. I sigh and reach over to scratch behind Mr. Magoo's ears. He thinks it's time to eat, too. Of course, Mr. Magoo thinks it's always time to eat. Not really feeling the urge to cook anything, I reach for the pan of brownies on the counter. I warm one up in the microwave and put a couple of huge scoops of vanilla ice cream on top. Mr. Magoo watches me intently. I'm pretty sure he's drooling. "No chocolate for you," I tell him. He cocks his head at me trying to comprehend what I'm telling him. "No chocolate, but if you promise not to tell Grandma Sarah, you can have some of my ice cream." Anyone who doubts dogs understand humans has never seen Mr. Magoo's tail wag a hundred miles-per-hour at the mention of my sharing my ice cream with him. I grab a saucer from the cupboard and scoop a small portion of ice cream onto it for him. "Trinity Grace Alexander," Grandma Sarah scolds. "What are you doing?" I know she's referring to my spoiling Mr. Magoo, but I play dumb. "Eating a brownie with ice cream, why?" She sighs, "I know that. I can see what you're eating. My question is what did you give Mr. Magoo to eat? You know he's not supposed to have people food. You'll spoil him rotten." I laugh, "Too late. You beat me to it." She swats me, "I'm serious." "I am too," I tell her. She shakes her head at me. I know she's not really too mad at me about it because I can see the corners of her mouth turn up as she tries to suppress a smile.
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"No school tomorrow Grandma Sarah, so when I don't get up in the morning, don't panic." I call over my shoulder on my way up the stairs. "Oh no!" She cries. I stop in my tracks, knowing what's coming next can't be good. I turn around and come back into the kitchen for the rest of the story. Folding my arms in front of my chest, I lean against the kitchen counter, "Oh no? What oh no?" "Mr. Tucker will be here first thing in the morning to take that limb of the tree," she glances at me apologetically. "He'll probably want access to your room, to work from the upper porch." "Great," I say sarcastically. "His idea of first thing in the morning and mine aren't exactly the same." "I'm sorry dear, I forgot about tomorrow being a teacher's in-service day." "Hello! First Monday of the month." I shake my head. "Oh well, sleeping in is over-rated anyway." "You could sleep in the game room," she offers. "That's okay. Since the game room is right below my room, I somehow doubt that'd be much better," I shrug my shoulders and give her a lazy smile. "Goodnight Grandma Sarah."
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Chapter 30 Just as Grandma Sarah had warned, Tucker and Son's Tree Service is here bright and early this morning. I wake to Grandma Sarah rapping loudly on my bedroom door. "Trinity?" She calls out in between knocks. "Are you awake?" Rolling over in bed glaring at the door, I tell her, "Yes. I'm awake." "Mr. Tucker's son would like to come through your room to access the porch," she tells me. When I don't answer right away she clears her through loudly adding, "Now." "Just a minute." I hop out of bed, grab my clothes and head to the bathroom to dress. "Okay, all clear." I hear my bedroom door open and heavy footsteps walk across the hardwood floor from the hallway to the French doors. I throw on my old sweat pants and a hoodie, brush my teeth and run a comb through my short hair. When I exit the bathroom, the cold air from the open French doors slams into my face. I walk over to the doors and am about to stick my head out to ask the tree guy if he was born in a barn when he walks back in. Grandma Sarah neglected to mention that Mr. Tucker's son is a hottie. We nearly collide and it takes me a minute before I realize that I'm staring at him. "Sorry, I need to run down to the truck and grab a hand saw," he flashes me a shy smile. All I can manage is a nod. "I'm Jeff Tucker, by the way," he wipes his hands on his jeans and extends one toward me. "You must be Sarah's granddaughter." I finally find my voice and tear my eyes away from him long enough to notice his hand, "Yeah." My hand is dwarfed in his large paw. "I'm Trinity. Mice to neet you." "Huh?" He laughs. "Nice to meet you, too."
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He must think I'm an idiot and shakes his head. His shaggy dark blonde hair falls into his brown eyes. I don't miss the smile he gives me as he walks out of my room. What was that? I wonder to myself and watch his lanky frame exit my bedroom. In a few minutes, I pull myself together and skip down the stairs two at a time. Grandma Sarah is standing at the kitchen counter staring out the window watching Jeff the tree God walk to his truck when I come in. "That's a good looking young man right there," she points out. As if I hadn't already noticed. "I guess. If you're into rugged, tall, strong and find the smell of sawdust sexy," I smile. She gives me a look that says I'm not fooling her any, "On that note, I'm off to Branson." "Have fun," I tell her. While I'm at the table eating my breakfast, my cell phone rings, it's Babs. "Good morning," I say. "Trinity, I was wondering if you'd like to come out around noon today to help me." I look at the clock on the microwave and see that it's not yet ten, "I can do that." After I hang up the phone, I call Logan to see if he wants to come along. When it goes straight to voice mail, I leave a message asking him to call me. Mr. Magoo watches me eat my bagel, "You can't have any," I tell him as I stuff the last oversized bite into my mouth. About that time Jeff the tree God walks back in. I glance up at him and hope he doesn't try to engage me in conversation. Talking with my mouth full would convince him for sure that I'm probably not the brightest star in the sky. My cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's; I blush when he looks my way. He smiles politely and heads upstairs. My cell phone beeps letting me know I've got a text, "OMG. WHO'S THE DUDE?"
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Petri must be watching out the window. I'm surprised she's not at my front door already, since she's obviously noticed him. "JUST THE TREE GOD." I text back. That should do it; she'll be at the door in ten minutes. I'm wrong. It takes her six, "Trinity. Who is he?" "Jeff Tucker. Of Tucker and Son's Tree Service," I tell her. "He's trimming the tree limbs over the upper porch." "How can you be so calm about that guy walking through your bedroom?" She gapes at me incredulously. "In case you didn't notice, he's kinda hot." "I know, right?" I smile. She frowns and extracts her cell phone from her pocket, "Damn. It's my mom. A day off from school means a day spent helping her clean," she answers the phone and mutters a few words. She stands up and snaps her phone shut, "I have to go," she sighs. At about eleven-thirty, I walk into the garage to head out to Akers of Love. When I go to start my car, I'm met with a series of moans followed by several clicks. Great. I get out and slam the door. I look up and Jeff is standing in the doorway watching me. "Dead battery?" He asks. "Yeah," I sigh. "I'm supposed to be to work at noon." "Where do you work?" "Akers of Love," I tell him. "I guess I call Babs and tell her I can't make it." "Listen," he puts his hand on my arm, "I'm meeting my dad at Cove Caf for lunch. I'd be happy to give you a ride."
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"Are you sure? I mean if it's not too much trouble. That would be great." "Sure. No trouble at all." He walks to the truck and opens the passenger door. Several empty soda cans roll noisily out onto the driveway. He glances at me and blushes, "Sorry. I'll just clear a spot for you." When we arrive at Akers of Love, I recognize the black Cadillac sitting in front of the building. Logan's father is in the driver's seat with an impatient scowl on his face. He gives the horn two quick beeps as I step down from the Tucker and Son's truck. I thank Jeff the Tree God for the ride and close the passenger door behind me. I glance up as Logan is sliding into the passenger side. Mr. Sharpe barely waits for the door to close before he has the car in drive and is throwing loose gravel from beneath the tires on their way out the driveway. Babs is examining Pepper when I walk in, "How's he doing today?" I ask. "About the same. He doesn't seem to be in any pain for now. That's the important thing." I nod, "Can I take him outside for awhile?" "I think he'd like that, sure." I carefully lift Pepper off of the exam table and clip the leash to his collar. He seems a little wobbly but perks up once we're outside. I follow him around patiently as he walks a few steps, sniffs the grass, walks a few more steps and comes to rest on the grass contentedly. Babs follows us outside and we sit for a few minutes. "What did Logan want?" I ask her as she stretches her long legs out in the grass beside me. "I was going to ask you what happened with you two." I glance at her curiously, "Nothing. I haven't talked with him since Saturday night. Why?"
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"He came by to let me know he's going to ask Annette Gilmore to be reassigned." I stare at her in disbelief, "Reassigned? But he loves it here. Did he say why?" "Not really. All he said was that it was personal and he didn't have time to get into it at the moment." "It's because of me," I sigh feeling like the air has been sucked from my body. "You don't know that," she cautions. "Let's not jump to any conclusions." "Come on Babs. I'm not stupid," I push to my feet and lead Pepper back inside. "Nobody said you were stupid," she calls after me. "You should talk with him before you assume anything." "Mm hmm." "We'll continue this discussion later," Babs gives me a half-hearted smile and pats me on the back. "Let's go clean the kennels out back. I've got three more dogs going out to foster homes this afternoon." "That's great!" She smiles, "Yes it is." On our way, Babs turns on the water and tugs on the hose, dragging it along. When we get to the pens she asks me to grab three leashes out of the nearby storage shed. She puts the hose down and walks through the gate into the fenced in area behind the cages. She lets a few of the dogs out and motions for me to hose down the empty pens. We clean them a few at a time, and move the dogs back in before moving down the row. Once they've all been hosed down, she takes the leashes and brings three dogs out. "These little guys have never been taught to walk on a leash," she advises. "So be patient and do your best to coax them along."
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Leading them up to the office takes some time, but it's not that bad. It amazes me that as little contact as they've had with humans, how eager to please they are and how fast they catch on. We put them in a temporary holding pen while they wait for their foster moms to arrive. Inside, Babs grabs some medical supplies from the cupboard and puts them down next to the exam table before reaching for one of the young dogs inside a small cage. His tail has been bandaged and it looks as though he's been gnawing on the gauze. "What do you think I should do about Logan?" I ask as she begins to snip away the remainder of the bandage. "Nothing," she tells me. "Nothing? Oh that's helpful." "Well, do you have any better ideas?" "I guess not." I give her a withering look. "I just thought maybe you did." Babs asks me to gently hold Vinnie's head between my arm and rib cage so he can't see what she's doing. He's not vicious; he's just scared and hides his eyes willingly between the folds of my sweatshirt. I know exactly how he feels. "Obviously you should talk to him before you assume anything," she doesn't look at me as dabs ointment on Vinnie's tail wound and re-dresses it carefully. "Obviously." I scowl and scratch behind Vinnie's ears when he's all done. "He can't avoid you forever." "I wouldn't bet on that," I sigh shaking my head.
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I help her tend to the rest of the wounded until Lois Hintermeister, one of the new foster moms, arrives to pick up two of the rescues. A short while later, we watch out the front door as the third rescue rides away. "Where's your car?" She asks. "Piece of crap wouldn't start," I kick a rock and it sails across the lot scattering the sparrows that are gathered picking at the bird seed she spilled while filling the bird feeders earlier. Glancing at her watch, "It's almost five. Let me just lock up and I'll give you a ride." I smile half-heartedly and watch her retreat into the building flipping the sign from open to closed then she locks the doors behind her.
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Chapter 31 Grandma Sarah drops me off at school early and promises to call the shop about my dead battery. She tells me they will drop it before the end of the day so I have a way to Akers of Love after school. "Where's your car?" Petri asks as we walk inside. "Dead battery," I mumble and push past her into the crowded hallway. "Bad mood?" "Just a little," I hold up my index finger about an inch apart from my thumb. "Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise." I roll my eyes at her, "Not in the mood this morning Pete." I look around distractedly for Logan but he's nowhere to be found. Petri holds her hands up in the air in front of her indicating surrender, "Whatever," and she totters off leaving me with my bad mood. I should call her back and tell her I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on her. It's not her fault. But she's already disappeared around the corner in a huff. I don't blame her. I'd be mad at me too, if I were her. I sigh and slip into the Chemistry classroom just as the bell rings and take my seat next to Jesse. Dropping my backpack onto the floor beside me, I take a peek around the room. Logan's in the back slouched in his seat wearing his hide-from-the-world hoodie and the focus of his attention is on his desk, not me. Mr. Fountain announces a pop quiz. The class groans and I panic. Momentarily forgetting how awful I feel and how Logan hasn't acknowledged my presence.
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Once class is over I wait in the hallway for him. "Were you planning to avoid me all day?" I ask. "No, in fact," he pauses and glances around. "We need to talk." "That doesn't sound good. What's wrong?" When his aqua-blue eyes meet mine they are devoid of any emotion and I shudder from the chill I feel. "I don't want to get into it right now." "Fine, later then?" I choke out hoarsely. "Later," he mumbles and shoulders past me. I stand in the middle of the hallway and people jostle past as if I'm merely a shadow they can walk on, over or through. I wish I could disappear like a shadow. The rest of the day passes painfully slow. I don't see Logan again and Petri gives me the cold shoulder for how I had treated her earlier. I decide to skip my last class and the Outreach Program meeting. Thankfully, my car is in the parking lot. I pull out my spare set of keys and head home to take a long hot bubble bath in my ginormous tub and feel sorry for myself. I'm having some serious relaxing "me time" when after about half an hour my cell phone starts ringing. It will just have to ring, I decide. A few minutes later, it rings again. In fact, it rings a total of four times before I finally decide to get out of the tub. Whoever it is, I'll give them an "A" for annoying the crap out of me. As I'm drying off, the phone begins ringing downstairs in the kitchen. As soon as it stops, my cell phone starts again. Picking up my phone, I frown, it's Chloe. Normally, I would just ignore it, but it must be important, as many times as she's called. "Hello?" I answer as I shrug into my robe. "Oh thank God you answered, Trinity," Chloe blurts out.
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"What's wrong?" I ask knowing from the sound of panic in her voice, and the fact that she never calls me, something serious must be wrong. "Trinity, it's your dad. He was in an accident. I'm on my way to the hospital right now." She tells me. "Oh my God!" I make my way over to the bed and sit down before my knees give out. "How bad?" "I don't have all the details yet, but it doesn't sound good," she sobs frantically. "Damn. Damn. Damn. Which hospital?" My thoughts race a hundred-miles-per-hour. "St. Andrews, in South County. I've got another call. I have to go." She relays quickly before disconnecting the call. "I'm on my" I start, but she's already gone. Quickly I dress and throw some things into an overnight bag. I scribble out a note for Grandma Sarah and am out the door in record time. It will take me at least four hours to get to St. Louis with the way the rain is coming down. Chloe is in the ER waiting room when I finally arrive at St. Andrews. "How is he?" I ask out of breath from running from the parking ramp up to the emergency room. "He's in surgery right now. I don't have many details yet," she says getting up and begins to pace restlessly around the waiting room. "Can you tell me what happened?" I ask completely clueless. "The traffic came to a standstill on the interstate, your father was stopped, but apparently some semi driver wasn't able to stop and plowed into the stopped traffic, causing a chain reaction. It was a horrible mess out there," she shudders breaking down in sobs.
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"What's the extent of his injuries? I mean, why's he in surgery?" I ask, putting my hands on her shoulders to try calming her down enough to get some rational answers out of her. "Ms. Alexander?" A man's voice calls out interrupting our conversation. Startled, we turn anxiously toward the source of the voice standing at the entrance to the waiting room. "I'm Mrs. Alexander," Chloe informs the man in scrubs walking toward us. "I'm Dr. Farnsworth. Mrs. Alexander, your husband is out of surgery now. He's lost a lot of blood, but the surgery went well." "Is he awake?" I ask. "He's resting right now; he's still coming out of the anesthesia and is pretty groggy." "Can we see him?" Chloe asks nervously rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm afraid he's not very coherent at the moment, but you can go in for a few minutes. One of you at a time," Dr. Farnsworth cautions, pointing over his shoulder back toward where he'd been. "He's in the recovery room down that hall to the left." Chloe glances at me silently pleading with her eyes. "Chloe, you go ahead," I offer politely. "I'll go when you get back." She nods briskly, and before I can even think about changing my mind she's down the hall leaving me alone with Dr. Farnsworth. I turn to him, "I'm his daughter. Trinity Alexander. I just got here and I'm afraid I don't have any details. What exactly was the surgery for?" I ask, peering at him expectantly. "Your father's leg was broken. He was pinned in the car. It's a bad break, a compound fracture. If everything goes as we anticipate it should, further surgery won't be necessary. Hopefully, the leg will heal properly but it was a very delicate surgery."
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I sink into a nearby seat and try to comprehend what he's telling me. "I'm very sorry, but if you'll excuse me, I have to go now. Please try not to spend too much time with him tonight. He needs his rest," he says distractedly glancing at his watch. "And visiting hours are over." "Yes of course. Thank you," I mutter feeling numb. When Chloe returns, I pop in dad's room briefly. The nurse warns me he's drifting in and out of consciousness. It's crucial that I don't disturb him so I only spend a few minutes with him. Before I leave, I lean over and kiss his cheek, and then I rejoin Chloe in the waiting room. St. Andrews keeps pillows and blankets in their ICU waiting room for the family members who want to spend the night at the hospital -- to be close to their loved ones. I find us each a pillow and blanket from the storage closet, and a space for us to set up camp in the corner of the room. Grandma Sarah calls just as we are getting somewhat comfortable for the night. I give her the details of Dad's situation. Since he's still in the ICU, I don't have a room number to give her yet. We agree there isn't anything she can do tonight and we convince her to drive up first thing in the morning. I ask her to call the school tomorrow and let them know I'll be out. I want to at least stay in St. Louis Wednesday, and maybe even Thursday, depending on how things go. When we hang up, I realize that in my haste to leave Disappointment today I forgot to grab my cell phone charger and the battery is all but dead. "Trinity, thank you for coming," Chloe says when I hang up with Grandma Sarah.
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"I'm not here for you. So you don't need to thank me," I say, looking at her as if the dumbest words ever spoken have just come out of her mouth. "I know, but I'm glad you're here -- for your father's sake," she pauses, looking at me intently before continuing. "He thinks you hate him, you know." "Hate is such a strong word, don't you think? I don't hate him," I tell her carefully, making sure she gets it that I put the emphasis on "him." I stand up and turn my back on her. I will be civil and I will even tolerate her because of the given situation, but I am not interested in pretending that we'll ever be best buds. I won't just put what's happened behind me and get close to her. That is so not happening in this lifetime. "I'm sure you don't think very highly of me right now. But it would make your father happy if you could just accept that I'm a part of his life now," she says quietly as she pulls nervously at a string on her sweater. "You're right about that. I don't think very highly of you. But I don't blame you entirely. It takes two and obviously you didn't drag him off kicking and screaming against his will," I say evenly trying to remain calm. She looks away from my gaze and stares at her hands -- probably admiring the big honking diamond on her left hand. "I know what you must think of me --" she starts to add more, but I cut her off. "You.Have.No.Idea.What.I.Think," I measure each word carefully. This is one conversation I don't want to have so I don't want to have to repeat myself. "Would it kill you to at least try and forgive your father?" She pauses. "Regardless of how you feel about me."
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"That's a little hard for me to do, seeing how you're part of a package deal now," I say, my jaws clench angrily. I have the whole fight-or-flight adrenaline rush thing going on. I need to walk away from this conversation before I say something extremely nasty, really loud, and cause a scene. I leave her sitting alone to think about what she's asking and go to the hospital cafeteria. I order a bowl of soup and grab a can of Diet Coke from the cooler. I'm not really very hungry, but it will help pass the time while I try to calm down. I sit quietly eating my soup, trying to wrap my head around the conversation with Chloe. I know I don't have to like Chloe. I don't have to like what dad did. I don't have to like any of it but making peace with dad is a good idea. I mean how would I feel right now if he would've died in that car accident? I'm pretty sure I'd never forgive myself for treating him the way I have been. We were once so close. I'd regret it big time. He is still my dad. That much hasn't changed. I still love him, and I need to start acting like it -- stop behaving like a spoiled brat. I guess I could start by trying to tolerate Chloe. "Is everything all right Miss?" A male voice asks, bringing me back from my thoughts. I realize there are tears splashing off my face into my soup. "Everything's not all right. Not by a long shot. But maybe it can be better," I mutter to the confused looking young man as I dry the tears on my sweatshirt sleeve. "Thanks for asking." "No problem," he nods knowingly and walks away. Wednesday, dad sleeps off and on. With all the painkillers they're giving him, he's still so incoherent that visiting him is pretty pointless.
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When Grandma Sarah arrives at the hospital, we decide to go to dad and Chloe's house. We want to freshen up, and grab something to eat while we're out. After a couple meals of hospital cuisine it all starts to taste the same. Grandma Sarah uses her connections with Mrs. Everett to get me excused from school until Monday unless I want to go back early. Mrs. Everett says I can just make my work up when I get back. I call Babs to let her know where I am and that I won't be in for a couple of days. It dawns on me that none of my friends know where I am, why I haven't been at school or about the accident. Though I'm sure with the way "news" travels around Disappointment Cove, someone's said something. Knowing rumor central, a.k.a. Cove Caf, the story could be that we were abducted by aliens or something. Chloe refuses to spend the night anywhere other than the hospital, so Grandma Sarah and I decide we'll be troopers and stay with her. Not that there is anything any of us can do by staying at the hospital instead of a nice, comfy bed at home -- or the Hampton Inn across the street -- but it makes Chloe feel better being at the hospital. Grandma Sarah and I stay with her for moral support. See? I'm trying to cooperate, honest. Thursday just after lunch dad is finally alert enough to be ordering the nurses around as if he owns the place. He's beyond cranky. His condition is upgraded and by late afternoon they move him to a private room. Dr. Farnsworth talks to dad, surgeon to surgeon, and the prognosis for his leg completely healing is excellent. Other than a slight limp, he'll be good as new in no time.
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I spend about an hour with him and decide there isn't any reason for me to stay at the hospital another night. Grandma Sarah decides she'll stay at least one more night. She finally convinces Chloe they should go home and relieve the babysitter. By the time I finally get home that night I plug my cell phone in and set it on vibrate, so it won't wake me. I'm so exhausted I don't do anything else but change into my pajamas and crawl into my warm comfortable bed. Sleeping on two chairs slid together as a make-shift bed in a hospital waiting room doesn't make for especially comfortable sleeping. So my bed feels extra inviting tonight. It isn't long before I'm out like a light.
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Chapter 32 Friday morning, I stuff Logan's scrapbook into my backpack and head to school. I figure I'll just stick it in his locker. When I left in such a hurry the other day, we didn't get a chance to talk. I'm not in any hurry to talk to him; since I'm pretty sure he just wants to break up with me anyway. "Where have you been?" Petri waves her hand above her head in the air dramatically as I arrive outside the school. "You were all pissy and just vanished. Poof." "My dad was in a car accident. I've been in St. Louis the past couple of days." "Oh, geez I'm sorry. I didn't know," she apologizes. "You could have called, ya know." "I know. Sorry. I left in such a hurry I forgot to grab my cell phone charger. I should have borrowed Chloe's phone, but I wasn't thinking," I pull my sweatshirt tight around myself to help ward off the chill in the morning air. "It's ok. So, how's he doing?" "He broke his leg and had to have emergency surgery. But he was much better yesterday," I tell her as I scan the parking lot for Logan. Even though the last time I saw him he made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with me. "How awful! He's going to be ok though, right?" She stops walking and puts her hand on my arm. "Yeah, he'll be fine. When I left yesterday, he was giving the nurses orders like he owned the place." "I bet Logan will be glad you're back." I pause, not sure I want to talk about that situation this morning, "Doubtful." Her eyebrows rise, "What's that supposed to mean?" "Before I left, he told me he needs to talk to me about something," I tell her. "I'm sure he's going to break up with me."
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"That's crazy," she shakes her head. "I doubt very much that he wants to break up with you. He's been like a lost puppy these past couple days." "Oh well, I don't know what to think. I guess I'll just have to let him figure out what he wants," I say with a resigned shrug of my shoulders. "I need to talk to Mrs. Everett, let her know I'm back." Turning, I walk toward the school when I see Logan get out of his dad's Cadillac. I can't read the expression on his face when he calls out to me. "Trinity, can we talk?" "Can't right now, maybe later," I call over my shoulder and hurry into the building out of sight. I'm so not ready to talk this morning. I don't want to hear him tell me he's breaking up with me and I'm sure that's what he has planned. Walking into the administrative office, I notice someone speaking to Mrs. Everett. Not wanting to chance running into Logan in the hallway, I have a seat and wait for them to finish. It doesn't turn out to be a terribly long wait, and I recognize the woman Mrs. Everett's speaking with as Logan's Aunt Gayle. "Hello Mrs. Decker," I address her politely, absently fidgeting with the hem of my sweatshirt. "Trinity! Hi. Please call me Gayle." "It's nice to see you," I smile. "How's Kyla adjusting to her new school?" "She's adjusting as well as can be expected, I guess," she says with a sigh. "I'm sure everything will be fine. Tenth grade, right?" I ask.
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"Yes, she misses her friends, some of them she's known her whole life, but I'm sure as outgoing as she is, she'll make new ones," she says and glances at the trophy-lined glass shelves behind me. "I know how she feels, but Springfield's not that far away, she'll be able to visit I'm sure," I say, empathizing with Kyla fully. "Well, it's good to see you again," she glances at her watch. "I better get a move on. We still have so much to do. Please, stop over anytime." "I'd like that. Talk to you soon." I say as a dull ache forms in my stomach. I know once Logan dumps me I'll never get to see inside Kriebstein Manor at Christmas. I turn from Gayle as she walks out of the office and focus my attention on Mrs. Everett. "Good morning, Mrs. Everett. I'm just checking in to let you know I'm back." "Hello Miss Alexander. I was sorry to hear about your father's accident. I do hope he's feeling better?" She asks, peering over the top of her little dark half-glasses on a chain. "Yes, much better, thanks." "Good to hear. Your teachers were all notified, and they will have any homework you missed. You may visit with them as time allows," she says, perfectly efficient as usual. "Sounds good. I'll take care of it right away. Thanks again," I turn to go. I manage to avoid Logan all day. If he plans to break up with me, I'm not going to make it easy for him. If he can't find me, he can't talk to me. If he can't talk to me well then, he can't tell me he doesn't want to see me anymore. As I approach the end of my street after school, I see Logan waiting for me on the front porch, "Oh just great" I mutter and hit my brakes. Since Olive Street is a dead-end street, there isn't much I can do that doesn't look as if I'm avoiding him -- even though I am. I pull into the
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garage and walk through the empty house toward the front door. He's on his feet waiting for me expectantly as I open it. "Hi Logan. I haven't seen you all day," I say lacking for something more original to say. "Really?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. "Trinity, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me all day." "What? That's just crazy. Why would I do that?" I lie, hoping that he doesn't see right through me. "Trinity, I've been worried sick. Where have you been?" He asks concern crinkling his face. "My dad was in an accident Tuesday afternoon. I left in such a hurry to drive up there I didn't realize until I was already at the hospital that I'd left my cell phone charger here, and my battery died. I'm so sorry; I just didn't get a chance to let anyone know where I was or what was going on," I say trying to ease the pain written across on his face. He pulls me into a hug that feels warm and comforting. I have the urge to bury my head in his chest and let him hold me. "Come in," I tell him quietly and stand aside to let him pass. "Why were you avoiding me today?" His aqua-blue eyes burn intensely, "The truth, please." "Yeah, I guess maybe," I stare at my feet avoiding his eyes. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he folds his arms across his chest. "Okay, so would you mind telling me why?" "Let's go sit down, and I'll explain," I say and lead him to the game room. "This can't be good," he says, sighing heavily.
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"I avoided you today because the other day you told me you needed to talk to me and I know you want to break up with me," I tell him unable to look him in the face and scratch absent mindedly at an imaginary itch. "You're kidding, right? I hope you know I have more class than to dump you at school," he tells me shaking his head. I just stare at him with my mouth open. I don't believe he just said that. "So, it is true," I manage to choke out once I regain my composure. "Look at me," he says, gently putting his finger under my chin to lift my face. Meeting his gaze briefly before I close my eyes tightly, I tell him, "Okay. I'm ready. Get it over with, I can handle it." I blink back the tears that threaten to pour down my cheeks. All of a sudden, he laughs hysterically. I don't believe he's being so rude! He's actually laughing at me. Apparently breaking up with me is funny to him. I swallow hard. I've just gone from confused to hurt and back again in the matter of seconds. Now I feel anger clawing at my throat. "Are you laughing at me?" I blink at him. He stops laughing once he realizes I'm completely missing the humor in the situation. "Yes, I'm laughing. Not because your feelings are hurt. Come on! Give me some credit. I'm laughing because you can't possibly think I want to break up with you. And that I'd be such an ass as to do it at school. Jesus, I'd at least write you a letter." "Isn't that what you wanted to tell me?" I fold my arms defensively across my chest. "No. God, no! I don't want to break up with you. Not even a little bit," he says and a small smile starts to lift the corners of his mouth. "Oh," I choke out. "I guess, um, well, I guess I just assumed"
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"You have a bad habit of assuming, Sparky." From somewhere deep inside, relief floods through me. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, so I just shake my head and smile awkwardly. Yep, I feel pretty stupid. "I guess you're right," I admit lamely. "What? What was that?" He asks and puts his hand to his ear as if he's hard of hearing. "Did you just admit you're wrong?" "No. I said you were right. Not that I'm wrong. There's a difference," I scowl. Logan shakes his head slowly back and forth. "I don't want to break up with you." "Well, what did you want to talk to me about then? Because it kinda sounded like a kissoff to me," I ask looking as a smug smile tugs at his soft lips. "Being in a relationship is hard for me. I don't know if I can do it, but" he pauses, noticing the look of panic on my face again. "But, I'm willing to try. If you're patient with me, we can work through this together." "Patience isn't one of my better virtues," I admit feeling a little foolish for having doubted him in the first place. "Seriously? I never noticed that about you," he teases with sarcasm practically dripping off his chin like drool. "It's never been one of mine either. But it's something we can work on together. That and the way you jump to conclusions all the time." "But Babs said you were going to ask Mrs. Gilmore to be reassigned." Now it's his turn to avoid my eyes, "I was going to, because I thought it would be better for you not to be around me. I was trying to do you a favor." "Really? Okay how about this. I will work on not jumping to conclusions if you don't do me any more favors," I playfully punch him in the arm. "Deal?"
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"Deal," he sighs. I smile cautiously up at him before throwing my arms around his neck to hug him. Earlier I wanted to smack the cocky grin right off his face -- when he laughed at me -- now I realize just how ignorant I've been about everything. Our hug is interrupted by a knock at the front door. "Are you expecting company?" He asks raising his dark brows curiously. "No." I tell him, wondering who it could be. "Hello Trinity. I was wondering if you'd like to come over and see what we've done to the house since you were there," Gayle offers, standing in front of me on the porch. "I'd love to!" I gush enthusiastically. Logan softly clears his throat behind me. "Logan would too." "Oh! I didn't realize you were here, Logan," she smiles peeking around me. "Yeah, I stopped by after school to talk to Trinity." "Well, why don't you both come over right now? Your uncle is so happy to finally have a kitchen to cook in again that he's slaved over a hot stove all day," she says, rolling her eyes. "I have to admit though, it's going to be awfully nice not having to eat take-out all the time." A few minutes later the three of us make our way down the sidewalk to Kriebstein Manor. Apart from having lights on in the windows, the house doesn't appear to have changed much from the outside. When we walk through the front doors though, the change is clear. It's hard to believe this is the same place. I can tell that Gayle is proud of the hard work they've put into getting things organized. She has every right to be, it's impressive. "Oh wow, you've done so much. I can't believe how much better it looks," I manage to mutter awestruck by the transformation.
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"Hey you two!" Kyla calls out from the living room. "I can't believe I've been here for a whole week already, and I haven't even seen either one of you at school." "I've been out of town, today was my first day back," I tell her. "I don't know where Logan's been hiding." "I have not been hiding," he says, shooting me a frown. "So, how do you like it so far?" "I don't. Thanks for asking," she says with a pout drooping her lower lip. "It'll get better. You'll make new friends. I know it's hard adjusting to a new school, but you'll be fine," I say speaking from experience. "Yeah Trinity and I just love it here," Logan says, rolling his eyes at me. "Be nice, she just moved here, you don't want to scare her off already," I tell him with a quick nudge of my elbow to his ribs. "Oh good, more people to cook for!" Collin calls from outside the kitchen, smiling broadly. "Come see what I've... we've done in here." We follow him into the now spotless kitchen. It is the largest kitchen I've ever seen. I'd be willing to bet Cove Caf's kitchen isn't even this big. I remember Grandma Sarah had said they once held lavish parties here. I'm guessing from the size of this kitchen they didn't have to call catering. Whatever he's cooking smells fabulous, and my stomach growls reminding me I skipped lunch today to avoid Logan and the break-up I was sure was imminent. "My uncle is quite the chef. He loves to cook, especially for a crowd," Logan whispers to me, his hand resting on my lower back. "I'd say he's got enough room to practice that." I smile as my eyes take in the industrialsized kitchen.
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Gayle gives us a tour of the rooms that are finished. Many of the downstairs rooms are done. Upstairs, the master bedroom and Kyla's room have been made livable. Lastly, she leads us into the grand ballroom on the main floor. "This is our work in progress right now. I hope to have it ready in time for Christmas. Luckily, that gives us some time." Her voice echoes as she speaks. I turn slowly, admiring the cavernous room. "I think this room could probably hold the entire population of Disappointment Cove," I tell her awed by all the ginormous rooms in the long-vacant home. "Well, we'll just be inviting some friends from Springfield, that and family of course." Gayle laughs and glances at Logan. "Your father will be here from Chicago, won't he?" "One can only hope not," he says looking everywhere but at her. Gayle doesn't respond with words, but I catch the frown she gives him. He returns the look but doesn't say anything either. Logan's uncle Collin is an amazing cook. He feeds us gigantic salads, and then serves lasagna and garlic bread. It is the best lasagna I've ever had. For dessert, he brings in a melt-inyour-mouth Tiramisu. "I'm so full right now I might explode," I tell him. I rub my belly as we make our way slowly back to my house. "My uncle is an awesome cook, isn't he?" "He needs to open up a restaurant. I'm so not kidding." "Everyone tells him that. He says it would be too much work; he just does it for fun," he reaches for my hand as we walk. "Was your mom a good cook too?" I ask and squeeze his hand.
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"Yeah. She loved to cook," he says quietly. I want to know what she had been like. I want him to share that part of his life with me, but it's hard when he never feels like talking about her or his life, pre-accident. "I'll get my keys and give you a ride home," I suggest as we reach the front porch. He follows me up the steps, and I can't help myself. He looks so handsome in the moonlight. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek softly. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. He returns my kiss, but this time, it's none of that kissing on the cheek stuff. He plants his lips firmly over mine and that's it, stick a fork in me, I'm done. I don't want to let go but he reluctantly pulls from me. "You better get your keys before we make a scene out here on the front porch," he says grinning at me seductively. "Right... who's going to see us? I think it might be fun giving the neighbors something to talk about." I laugh at the stricken look on his face and open the door. I grab my backpack and retrieve his scrapbook, "Here, you can have this back," I say handing it to him. "Oh yeah. That," he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looks at me intently with his beautiful eyes. "What did you think?" I frown, not entirely sure I should tell him my true feelings about it. "Well It answered some questions I had, that's for sure," I say trying to word my response carefully. "Why do I sense a 'but' coming here?" He asks raising an eyebrow at me. "It's just that it's really detailed. I mean I think it was a little too detailed if you ask me. Who put it together?"
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"The stuff about the accident, my dad put that together. In his typical lawyer way. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me, considering how hard he worked to keep me out of serious trouble. Sometimes, I think he just did that so he could punish me in his own way," he says quietly. "It looks like it started out as a memory book your mom was working on for you." "Yeah, she started it for me when I got to high school. With love. Then when she... after the accident, he took over. It's easy to see he blames me for everything. I know the accident was my fault, but forgiveness is not a word in his vocabulary," he says, looking everywhere but into my eyes. "Is he gone a lot?" I ask trying to steer the conversation away from the accident. "Yeah, thankfully. He still has cases he works on in Chicago; he has a place on Michigan Avenue he stays when he goes up there. Now that Aunt Gayle lives here, it's easier for him to be gone. When he's home, things are pretty intense. I just try to stay out of his way," he says, putting his hand on my cheek. "Not a very pleasant way to have to live." "No, not so much." I drive him home and inform him that he will be coming with me tomorrow to Akers of Love. Reassignment is not an option. He smiles at me sheepishly before kissing me on the cheek and says good night.
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Chapter 33 Saturday morning, Grandma Sarah calls to let me know dad's been released from the hospital and she's going to spend one more night in St. Louis getting him settled and help Chloe with Ethan. She promises she'll be home sometime tomorrow afternoon. I reassure her I'm fine and Mr. Ferguson likes having Mr. Magoo stay with him so much he's threatening to keep him. It's early when I hang up the phone with her and call Logan. "Rise and shine," I tell him. "I've been up for awhile. I knew you wouldn't let me sleep in." I laugh, "I'll be there in about an hour so be ready, okay?" "I'm ready now, so whenever is fine with me." I take a quick shower and throw on my work clothes and pull up in front of Logan's house an hour later. He's waiting for me on the front porch. "It almost looks like it could snow," I tell him once he's inside the car. "North of here, it's supposed to," he turns his head to look out the window up at the sky. "They're calling for a chance of freezing rain here though." I wrinkle my nose. I would rather have a foot of snow than even the tiniest glazing of freezing rain. When the first few raindrops hit my windshield, I start to wonder if he might be right. "It's too early for that kind of weather." "It is November. This is Missouri. I wouldn't want to bet on that," he sighs. "I'm so glad you two are here early," Babs tells us when we walk inside. "It's supposed to get nasty out there later and I want to get the rest of the dogs from down below inside today. "Is there room inside you think?" Logan asks. "I had a couple more dogs go out yesterday to foster care," she walks into the other room. "So I think we'll have room. But it'll be close."
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"Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll get started," I pull my hoodie over my head and throw it over the office chair. "Let's grab the empty pet taxis and scrub them down," she heads into the washroom to fill a couple large pails with disinfectant and water and tosses me a sponge. "Here you go. While you two are doing that, I'll tend to the wounded." I eye the sudsy water and look at Logan with a smirk on my face. As if reading my mind, Babs calls out from the other room, "Don't even think about it Trinity!" "What! You know me better than that," I protest. About an hour later, Logan and I have washed and dried out several empty pet taxis. He lines them up along the wall and we go offer to help Babs with the dogs that need their bandages checked and changed. "Logan, do you remember where the generator is?" She peers over the top of her glasses at him. "Yeah. Why?" "I want you to make sure it's ready in case we lose power. If we get that ice they're predicting, the electricity might go out," she goes back to what she's doing and Logan heads out to tend to the generator. About that time a loud crack of thunder shakes the windows. Startled, I nearly jump out of my skin, "That was close!" I shout. When Logan comes back inside his hoodie is soaked so he pulls it off over his head and drapes it over the back of a chair. "The generator should be ready," he tells us. "But we need to get those dogs from below moved up here now before the temperature drops much more."
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"You're right. Good idea," she tells him and reaches for her rain gear. She tosses him an extra raincoat, "Here, put this on and let's go. Trinity, you finish up in here, please." By the time the dogs are moved inside and everyone is situated, the rain has started to turn slushy. "I suggest you two head for home, before this starts to freeze on the roads," Babs cautions. She doesn't have to tell me twice. I slip back into my hoodie and throw Logan his. We are out the door headed for home in no time. When we pass the bank, the temperature is thirty-three degrees, almost freezing. "You could come keep me company tonight in case the electricity goes out," I suggest. "Grandma Sarah is staying in St. Louis." His aqua-blue eyes light up, "That's a good idea. At least I know how to build a fire if the electricity goes out to keep us warm." I feel my face flush, somehow I don't think keeping warm will be a problem with him around. "Are you sure you're okay staying the night?" I ask. "I mean, I probably won't be able to drive you home later if the roads get bad. So you'll be stranded. With me. All alone. All night." "The sacrifices I make," he grins and squeezes my hand. "I'm sure." As we drive down Olive Street, Logan's Aunt Gayle is hurrying up the sidewalk toward the front door of Kriebstein Manor. Logan ducks as I wave at her. I giggle at him for crouching down in the seat. "That was close!" He says as he slowly raises his head to peek out the window. Hearing my laughter he turns, "What? Are you laughing at me?"
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"Yes, I am laughing at you. The look on your face when you spotted your aunt, priceless." "I don't know why I should worry about her seeing me. It's not like she cares if we're together, though she might wonder what the two of us are up to," he says as he cautiously slides back up onto the seat. "Oh you mean like we might be up to, umm, no good?" I tease. "Something like that..." He gives me a perfectly dimpled smile and a wink. I pull my car into the garage and close the door behind us. It's starting to sink in that we have the whole house to ourselves. I smile thinking about what kind of trouble we could get into alone in the deserted house. "You won't get into trouble will you?" I ask, referring to his dad. "I hope so," he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I mean about not being home, you perv," I shake my head. "Get your mind out of the gutter." "What? My mind's not in the gutter. But yours must be to think that," he says, trying to sound all innocent. "Whatever," I laugh, realizing just how nice it is to see his beautiful aqua-blue eyes flirting with me. "Seriously, will your dad be mad if you aren't home?" "He'll just think I ran away again," Logan shrugs. "Who cares?" "Logan! I don't want your dad mad at me. He already hates me," I stop mid-stride and catch his arm. "My dad doesn't like anybody," he says with a scowl. "He won't even know I'm not home. He's been in Chicago all week."
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"But still," I drop my hand to open the door and go inside. "Don't worry about it. Now, what do you want to do?" He asks as he follows me inside to the kitchen. "Honestly? I just want to get into my sweats, lay on the couch with you and watch movies all night. Oh and eat junk food," I say as I look in the refrigerator to assess the food situation. "From the looks of things, Grandma Sarah didn't get to the grocery store this week." "Let me look," he says, stepping up behind me so close I can feel the warmth of his body against mine. He glances over my shoulder, and then moves to check out the cupboards. Then he makes his way back toward the panty. Finally he decides, "I'll make chili. Does your grandma have a crock pot somewhere?" "Yeah, there's one over here," I say and open the cupboard door near the stove. He peers into the freezer and rummages through the packages settling on a package of ground beef. Then he heads back into the pantry to gather the rest of the ingredients and comes back. His arms are filled with several different cans, and a large onion. "Chili it is," he says, carefully placing everything on the counter. "You do like chili, don't you?" "Love it. Do you know how to make it?" I glance at him skeptically. He gives me a look of disgust, "I told you Trinity, I'm a great cook!" "Yeah but actually cooking something and reheating a frozen pizza are two different things," I remind him with a snicker. "I'm crushed." "While you're getting things started I'm going to run upstairs and change, then I'll help," I tell him over my shoulder as I head toward the back stairs up to my room.
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"Ok. Unless you want help up there?" He offers, ducking as I throw my shoe at him. "Hey! That could have hit me!" "That's the idea, Einstein," I retort. With that, I'm up the stairs in a flash. I put on my comfy, lounge-around-the-house clothes and rejoin Logan in the kitchen. I start to defrost the frozen block of ground beef in the microwave. When it's almost thawed, I grab one of Grandma Sarah's large skillets and start browning the meat. I chop up the onion that he found in the pantry and add that in to brown with the meat. I know a thing or two about cooking, too. "Ok, you go pick out a movie, and I'll get the rest of this put in the crock pot and let it simmer," he suggests, shooing me out of the kitchen. I look at him with uncertainty in my eyes, "Are you sure you can handle it without me?" He gives me a wilted look that causes me to smile. "Oh okay. Do you want to watch Notebook or A Walk to Remember?" I ask. He frowns and says, "Neither. Maybe you'd better let me pick out the movie." "What? You mean you don't want to watch chick flicks?" I tease. "Umm. Let me think." He pauses for about two seconds, "hmm. That would be a no." "Awe! You're no fun," I pretend to pout and playfully stick my lower lip out in an exaggerated manner. "We'll see," he winks then swats me on the butt. I shake my head and laugh at him as I walk out of the kitchen. Fortunately for Logan, Grandma Sarah's movie collection is enormous, and she has a little bit of everything. Admittedly, she does have a lot of chick flicks, but she also has horror, fantasy, drama, comedy and everything else imaginable. When she found out that I was coming
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to live with her, she went a little overboard and bought a ton of DVD's for her collection. I haven't watched very many of them since living here, though I've seen a lot of them already. Logan joins me at the wall of movies, putting his arms around me from behind. "What's it going to be?" He asks eyeing the huge movie collection. "What are you in the mood for?" I ask, then seeing the wicked look on his face, I add, "Movie-wise." "You can pick. I trust your judgment," he eyes me carefully. "Within reason." I decide that since we're both in a good mood; we should watch a comedy and I snatch the classic Christmas Vacation off the shelf. There's nothing like being alone with your boyfriend in a big empty house, with no chance of anyone interrupting the moment to get the imagination going. I had been alone with Marco a lot of times, and we made-out a little, but I always just thought of Marco as the boy I went places with. Everyone thought we made a great couple, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be spending forever with him. Honestly, even though all of my friends were having sex with their boyfriends, having sex with Marco never even crossed my mind. Not seriously. I'm probably the only virgin I know. I don't mind. I never saw the big deal before but that could be because kissing Marco was warm and cuddly, it didn't really inspire weak-in-the-knees, got-to-have-it-or-I'll-die feelings. It never felt like the right thing to do. We often found ourselves alone together, making out. Yeah, I know he wanted to, but I never felt inclined to lose my virginity with him and he never pressed the issue too much. Other than some occasional whining that I just ignored.
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That might have been why it was so easy for him to walk away from our relationship to be with Melissa. Melissa was my best friend and all, but she was a member of the "Everybody's Doing It" club. Here now, as I lay on the couch next to Logan, I start to realize what the big deal might be. When the movie ends I roll over on my side, so we are facing one another. I gaze into his eyes and they are so clear I'm certain I can see myself reflected there. That and the flames from the lazily crackling fire Logan started earlier. He sees me staring at him and for a few heartbeats he stares back. Then slowly, he leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the lips. I swear I feel sparks when our mouths connect -- all the way down to my toes and back again. I'm not sure if it's fate or what, but when he leans in for another kiss, the electricity blinks off, back on again dimly before it snaps off with the certainty that it's going to be off for awhile. "I've heard of seeing fireworks from a kiss," I whisper, "but not losing the electricity." He laughs quietly, "I know, right." "Good thing we've got a fire burning," I turn away from him and sit up. "C'mon. Let's bring in some more wood from the garage. I offer him my hand to help pull him off the couch. He smiles, "What, you don't think we'll be warm enough if the fire went out?" I roll my eyes at him, "I'm sure we would be for a little while. But hard telling how long we'll be without power." Standing, he shrugs his shoulders at me, "I suppose you're right." "Let me grab the flashlight," I tell him as I feel my way toward the kitchen. Grandma Sarah always keeps it on the side of the fridge. It's right where she left it. I flip it on and the room
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is bathed in the dim yellow light of four weak D-cell batteries. "These aren't going to last long," I sigh. When Tucker and Sons cut that big limb from the old oak tree the other day, Jeff the Tree God stacked some of the smaller pieces of wood inside the garage. Logan and I each gather an armload of wood and carry it inside. After a couple more trips we have a decent stack of wood that will carry us through the night and into tomorrow morning. While he tends to the fire, I run upstairs and grab the quilt and pillows off my bed and throw them onto the sofa when I return. The fire is burning bright, snapping and popping from the new wood. He's standing by the window peering out between the slats of the blind. I hear him let out a soft whistle between his teeth. When I join him by the window I comprehend what he was whistling about. The night is completely black, "Look," I point to the large outdoor thermometer hanging outside the window hovering around 30 degrees and the rain is still falling. He tilts his head to get a better look at the trees, "That's a lot of ice, Look at the power lines sagging from the weight." Everything is coated with a thick layer of ice. Nothing is moving in the streets and won't be until the temperature comes up a few degrees. He reaches over and pulls me close with one arm, "Where were we?" He asks. I smile and turn into him, "This is nice." He wraps both arms firmly around me and pulls me closer, "Yes. Yes it is." I stand on my tip-toes and pull his head down toward me for a kiss, "You do realize that you're stranded here, right?" I smile at him, "Which means you're sorta at my mercy."
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"I'll take my chances," he breathes into my neck. His lips trail kisses down the same path the blood coursing through my veins is taking. From the soft hollow spot just beneath my jaw down to inside the top edges of my suddenly-too-warm hoodie. "Keep that up and I won't be responsible for my actions," I sigh. He laughs, taking me by the hand he leads me over to the quilt and pillows I threw in a heap earlier. With the comforter from my bed and the blanket off the couch we make a comfy spot on the floor in front of the fireplace. He stretches out on top of the make-shift bed and pats the covers beside him inviting me to join him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I shake my head at him, "You are so not right," and slide down next to him. The night is so quiet, I'm certain he can hear my heart as it threatens to beat itself free from the restraints of my ribs. "Hear that?" He asks. "Hear what?" I wonder if he really can hear my heart beating. He sits up and cocks his head sideways listening. Soon he shrugs his shoulders and lays back down. "Hmm. Nothing I guess. Must just be the sleet hitting the windows." I realize I've been holding my breath and release the air from my lungs in a long sigh inching closer to him. I roll onto my side and prop my head on my hand. When he does the same, mirroring my image, I notice how incredibly sexy he is in the glow of the fire. He takes my free hand in his and gently traces the lines of my palm with his index finger. His eyes lock with mine and the tension hangs heavy, almost palpable between us. My hand is still grasped in his curious fingers as he leans toward me. He sighs and closes his eyes, our foreheads touch. It's almost imperceptive when he slowly tilts his head and the next
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thing I know, he's kissing me. I respond by moving closer to him and our bodies are connected from head to toe. The effect from his kisses reminds me of the anticipation you feel on the roller coaster as the cars slowly climb the hill and you are perched at the very top in that split second before it plunges to the bottom, momentum carrying you forward toward the next big hill. I press against him as our kisses become more urgent and our breathing more labored. He sighs and presses his hand against me, "Trinity. I don't know if I'm ready for this." Talk about a show stopper right there. "Excuse me?" "I think we need to slow down," he tells me. "But," I start to protest, "I don't understand. Why?" "I don't know how to be with you like that," he pulls back and sits up wrapping his arms around his bent knees. I sit up and lean against him, "I'm sorry. I just thought you wanted to... you know. That you like me like that." He reaches over and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb, "I do like you like that. I just want to take things slow." I breathe a sigh of relief, at least I get that it's not me and I've not misinterpreted his feelings for me. "I'm okay with slow as long as we're on the same page about things." "Trust me," he says. "We are on the same page." I slide down on my back and pull the blanket up over me, "Good, now put another log on the fire." It's hard to see his face in the dim light from the fire, but I think I see him roll his eyes. "Just because we're on the same page doesn't mean you get to boss me around," he says as he
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pushes himself up off the floor. "But I'll do it. Not because you told me to, but because I need to." "Whatever." I smirk. Once the fire is burning nicely, he slips in next to me under the blanket. Having his chest pressed against my back will probably distract me from sleep, but it still feels pretty good. "Now if you think you can keep your hands off of me, we should try and get some sleep," he teases. I roll my eyes at him in the dark and fluff my pillow, "Yeah, right."
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Chapter 34 "What time is it?" I yawn and wince as I push myself up off the hard floor. "It's early," he smiles leaning against the doorframe. "Electricity is still off." I make my way to the window to check the outside temperature. It's a balmy 34 degrees; at least it's above freezing. There a broken tree limbs littering everywhere the eye can see. "I wonder if the paper's here," I say and turn from the window and traipse to the front door to check. "Holy crap it's cold in here." "No electricity. No heat." "Seriously?" I tell him sarcastically with a scowl. I wrap my arms around myself and hurry through the foyer to see if the paper boy has made it out. Amazingly enough, the paper is here, wrapped against the elements in the familiar clear plastic bag. I wind my way through to the kitchen and grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and pick up my cell phone from the counter before I hurry back to the warmth near the fireplace. "Look at the headlines, Logan," I tell him holding up the paper as I close the game room door behind me. Utility crews work to clear fallen tree limbs from power lines Sunday as thousands of people across southern Missouri wait without electricity after a rare October ice storm. The State Emergency Management Agency said utilities in southeast Missouri reported up to 27,000 customers without power Sunday morning. In southwest Missouri about 3,500 customers are reported without electricity and about 2,500 customers around the town of Ozark just south of Springfield. "All of southern Missouri from southwest to southeast got hammered by ice overnight," a State Emergency Management Agency spokesperson said.
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Up to an inch of ice and two more inches of sleet fell across southern Missouri late Saturday as waves of freezing rain, snow, sleet and thunderstorms crossed the area. Sunday's daytime temperatures are expected to warm into the mid- to upper- 30s bringing an end to the ice that hangs on trees and making sidewalks and some secondary roads treacherous." "Well at least the worst is over," Logan says as he stirs the embers in the fireplace. "I'll bring in more wood." "Let me grab my coat and I'll help." I run upstairs and snag a couple extra hoodies. I pull one over my head and toss the other one to Logan when I get back downstairs. "You think this will fit me?" he asks skeptically holding it up in front of him. "Yeah. What was I thinking?" I shake my head and shrug. He smiles and reaches for his hoodie from the back of the couch and pulls it on. "Does your grandma have any salt for the sidewalks?" "I doubt it," I frown. "But I'll look around." "You do that and I'll get some more wood," he tells me as he takes off one way and I head the other. "Okay. Check the garage while you're out there for some salt." "Aye-aye," he smirks at me playfully. I roll my eyes and go into the mud-room to check for salt in there. My cell rings while I'm looking around and it's Grandma Sarah. "Have you heard anything about the roads?" "I haven't been out yet, but it's like thirty-four degrees so the highways should definitely be cleared by now."
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"There's some salt in the garage by the lawn mower," she tells me before I can even ask. "Oh good," I turn and head for the garage. "Logan's bringing in some more wood for the fire." "Fire?" She asks. "You kids be careful with that fireplace." "We will," I hold the door open as Logan approaches with an armload of wood. "With no electricity, there wasn't much of an option." "Didn't you start the generator?" "Generator? We have a generator?" Logan stops in his tracks to look at me and I shrug my shoulders. He throws his head back and laughs at me then hurries off to deposit the wood next to the fireplace. Grandma Sarah explains to me where the generator is and what needs to be done to get it going. She tells me that she will be leaving St. Louis right after dinner today to drive home. By then the roads should all be safe. I tell her if I'm not home when she gets here I'll be at Akers of Love. "Generator. Really?" Logan stands in the doorway looking at me with his arms folded across his chest. "How was I supposed to know?" I push past him and head out to the garage to find the salt. "It's down in the basement. I never go down there. There's like spiders and stuff down there." I hear him sigh loudly and mumble something as the door slams shut between us. Up in the corner of the garage, right by the lawn mower where she said it would be, I find a big container of salt. I grab it and haul it outside. On the shady side of the house, the driveway is still icy. I shuffle carefully behind the small trail of salt I'm sprinkling before me.
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I see that the sidewalks have already started to melt. In the distance I hear chainsaws growling and back-up alarms beeping as the clean-up is underway and the electrical company is out in full-force trying to get power restored to our small town. After spreading salt on the driveway and sidewalks, I retreat inside. The generator is up and running and the furnace is on blasting air from the vents. Logan brushes the cobwebs from his hair and wrinkles his nose. "That's handled," he tells me. "I'm going to run out to Akers of Love and see if Babs needs me," I tell him. "Do you want to come with?" "I do, but I have to stop by my house first." He checks on the fire one more time and we're on our way. The way I would normally go to get to his house is blocked by power lines down. They detour us over a couple of blocks and soon we're parked in front of Logan's house. "Wait here," he tells me as he opens the car door to get out. "I'll just be a minute." He's only inside a short time before emerging from the house pulling his hair back into a ponytail and holding a bagel between his teeth. "No power here either. But our generator kicked on automatically," he gives me a sideways glance. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something snide and reach over snatching the last bit of bagel from his hand just as he's about to toss it into his mouth. "Hey!" "Thanks. Don't mind if I do," I say and pop it into my mouth smiling broadly at him around a mouthful of bagel. "Next time, a little more cream cheese on mine, k? Thanks." He snorts, "I'll remember that."
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It takes some maneuvering, but we finally dodge downed trees, power lines and debris as we cautiously make our way out to Akers of Love Tucker and Sons Tree Service is there when we arrive working to remove part of a large tree from the caved-in roof back where most of the dogs are kept. "Oh no!" I shout. "Logan that's where the dogs are." I stop the car abruptly and barely wait for it to come to a complete stop before I'm out of it running for the building. Logan shuts the car off and is behind me. Jeff the Tree God Tucker rounds the building nearly colliding with me head on. "Trinity, thank goodness you're here," he shouts over the noise of the chainsaws and grabs me by the elbow and dragging me around back. "Do you happen to have a key to this door?" "I do, but..." I look at him confused. "Why isn't Babs here?" "Mrs. Hintermeister ran her to the ER. She got a nasty gash on her head when the roof caved in." When he notices the look of panic on my face he smiles a quick smile, "She's fine. Just needed some stitches." He told me that Mrs. Hintermeister had stopped by earlier to see if she needed anything from town and found her with dried blood crusted on her face. She insisted on taking her to the ER right after she called them. Now, they were hurriedly trying to remove the tree from the roof so they could move on to other jobs. It was going to be a busy day for them. Logan slides up behind me and hands me my car keys. I fumble through them, finding the key to the back door for Jeff the Tree God. He snags them from my hands and heads toward the door.
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"Wait here," Logan tells me firmly. "I'll take a look. I don't want you going in there until I know it's structurally sound." I open my mouth to start to protest but he looks at me pointedly to let me know this isn't negotiable and there's no point in arguing with him. I watch helplessly from across the driveway as Logan unlocks the door and shoulders his way inside. In what feels like an eternity, he reappears with a scowl on his face. He motions me over. "The damage seems to be confined to the area above Babs' office. But the dogs are cold and wet," he tells me as I slip inside. "And no doubt they're terrified." "Let's get these guys moved into the other rooms," I order. Jeff the Tree God sticks his head inside, "Let me give you a hand in here," he offers. "I'll get some spots cleared out in the other rooms," I tell them. "You two start moving the crates." It takes a lot of moving and shuffling around, but in a short while we have the dogs in warm rooms. Logan looks in the shed for tarps and whatever else he can find to help close off the damaged part of the roof. "Now," I say, looking around at the dogs. "Let's check these guys out and make sure every one's okay." "Good idea," Logan sighs. We lose track of time as we tend to each dog. Taking them one by one outside then drying them all off. None of them are injured, thankfully. "Babs, I insist," a voice calls out loudly. "The Dr. said you need to rest."
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Logan and I look up as Babs comes in closely followed by Mrs. Hintermeister. It's clear that she's agitated. I bite my lip and turn toward Logan suppressing a giggle. We both know that "rest" isn't what Beverly Akers has on her mind right now. "Babs, we have everything under control," Logan tells her. "Really. Just relax, okay?" She shoots him an icy glare but sees she's outnumbered. "Three against one," she mutters. "Not fair." "Make that five against one," Mr. Tucker calls out from the back door. His son beside him. Mrs. Hintermeister leads her back to the house where I know that unless she has an armed guard posted outside, she won't stay. She rejoins us a short time later. "Doc says she might have a concussion and she really needs someone here to watch her," she tells us. "I don't suppose you'd want that job would you?" I smile reassuringly, "I'll be happy to stay." Mrs. Hintermeister relaxes visibly, "Okay then. That would be really great if you could do that." I stick my head inside to check on Babs and when I see she's asleep on the sofa, I decide to run home and clean up, say hi to Grandma Sarah and drop Logan at home. By the time I get to Babs' later the electricity is back on and she's watching a sappy chick flick. "See if you can find some ice cream in the freezer," she tells me. "I think there's some left." "You're hungry?" I ask, setting my homework on the table. "You can't watch sappy chick flicks without ice cream," she says. I laugh, "Okay. I'll get us each a bowl." "So. How are you and Logan getting along these days?"
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I shrug, "Fine I guess." "You guess?" She peers at me curiously. "I don't know. We spent all last night together. Alone," I shrug. "I think he's afraid of me." "Afraid of you?" She looks at me. "Why on earth would he be afraid of you?" "I don't know, he just never seems interested in hooking up with me." "Well don't go feeling sorry for yourself," she pats my arm. "There's no hurry." "I'm not feeling sorry for myself. Maybe it's time I faced reality, though," I sigh. "Oh really? Just what do you think that reality is?" She peers at me expectantly with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "That maybe I like him more than he likes me and he's not interested in taking our relationship to the next level. I'll probably just die a virgin," I say, admittedly she's right I do feel sorry for myself. Babs sighs deeply, letting me know she thinks I'm missing the whole point of our conversation. "Remember that patience thing we talked about before?" "I remember you might have mentioned something about that, yes. Patience and not taking it personally. Blah, blah, blah," I say feeling slightly annoyed not just with her, but with everything at the moment. "Don't go getting an attitude with me, Trinity Alexander. I'm just reminding you he's let you in this far. Remember the Logan you first met. Look how far he's come since then." "I guess. It just gets frustrating, that's all." "You're not ready to give up on him yet, so I'd say you can handle it. You won't lose anything by being patient."
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"Especially not my virginity," I add morosely. "Once it's gone, it's gone," she points out. "Now put another chick flick in." "Fine. But I'm not sharing the rest of the ice cream with you."
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Chapter 35 Thanksgiving Day arrives before we know it. We're going to Dad and Chloe's in St. Louis. At least I get to bring Logan with me. Logan and I have relaxed into our relationship a little more. Though I'm still a virgin. I try not to freak out every time he retreats into his shell or pulls away from me. Or panic that he's going to break up with me if he doesn't call every night. I don't go all psycho jealous girlfriend every time I see him talking with another girl... well maybe not every time. I still have to work on the jealousy thing, but I'm a work in progress. Dad's still off work recuperating at home until after the holidays. I can only imagine what that must be like for Chloe, having him home all the time. Dad's always been a bit of a perfectionist and he's happiest when he's working or barking out orders. I'm sure having him around day-in and day-out isn't too pleasant for her. Not that I care, I'm just sayin'. His Dr. expects him to make a full recovery, though he'll probably always walk with a limp. Reminds me of someone else I know. No one's heard much from Grace. She called once or twice, but I didn't talk to her. I think last I heard she's living in a motor home out in Arizona somewhere at a commune. Honestly? I think someone needs to remind her about the sixties -- as in -- they're over. "Trinity, are you about ready? We need to get on the road soon," Grandma Sarah calls up the stairs as I'm finishing with my hair. "Just about, Grandma Sarah. Is Mr. Magoo coming with?" I ask, glancing at the dog snoring contentedly on my bed. "Yes, is he up there with you?" "Yeah he's in his favorite spot, on the spare pillow on my bed," I smile shaking my head. "Okay don't be too long. I need some help putting this stuff in the car," she urges.
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"C'mon Mr. Magoo, we're going bye-bye," I tell him reluctantly and grab my overnight bag. I just want to eat and come back home, but Grandma Sarah insists it would be rude so we're spending the night in St. Louis, whether I want to or not. "Do you have your cell phone?" She asks with her pencil poised to check off the box next to cell phone. "Yes, Grandma Sarah." I tell her, ready for the remaining questions on her checklist that we go through every time we take a trip together which thankfully isn't often. "Is the battery charged? And do you have your charger?" She asks, back to the list. "The battery is fully charged, and we're not going to be up there that long," I remind her. "Yes, but I know how you are," she hands me a carrier which I hope is holding one of her famous pecan pies. "Here, take this out and put it in the car. I'll get Mr. Magoo's Thanksgiving Day sweater." Grandma Sarah's car is a Tuxedo Black Lincoln MKZ. She bought it new around the time I moved in with her, saying she had gotten tired of driving around the Town Car -- it was too big. She's pretty picky about her car, and I'm surprised she even lets us ride in it with her. Now I know why she wanted me to hurry up. "Are you leaving anything here? Or are we taking everything with us to St. Louis?" I ask, looking the pile of things by the door that she's planning to bring. "I just hope I haven't forgotten anything," she scans the kitchen double-checking the list in her hand. "I'll get Mr. Magoo inside and wipe off his feet, so you'll let him ride in your car," I say as I open up the back door to call him.
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"Oh yes, grab that blanket over there," she tells me pointing to the red blanket neatly folded on the kitchen table. "Put it across the backseat. Make sure you tuck it in good." I told you she's picky. "I'm on it." "Will Logan be ready when we get there?" She asks, glancing at her watch. I look at the clock on the microwave and see it's eight o'clock. I asked him to be ready by seven-thirty, so I'm sure he probably thinks we left without him. "He probably thinks we forgot him," I tap a finger on my wrist. "Chop chop. Let's go." My phone rings almost as if on cue. "Logan, we're just about to leave; we'll be there in ten minutes. I swear," I apologize. "I was wondering Jeez Trin. You told me seven-thirty," he moans. Logan's waiting on the porch for us when we finally get there. "Hi, sorry we're running a little late," I tell him. "Yes. I didn't think Trinity was ever going to get out of bed this morning to help me," Grandma Sarah tells him. I just give her a look and roll my eyes. As if. We squeeze Logan's bag into the trunk. I slide to the back seat to ride with Mr. Magoo and tell Logan he can be co-pilot. Fortunately for me, I have a book to read, and my iPod to listen to. Not so fortunate for Logan -- he doesn't. I smile to myself. Next time, he'll know better. After a four-hour ride of listening to AM talk-radio and Grandma Sarah's chatter, I almost guarantee it. We arrive at dad and Chloe's a little after noon. We aren't eating until tonight so we aren't late or anything. Besides, it will take us that long to get Grandma Sarah's car unpacked. "Chloe, the Christmas decorations look really nice," Grandma Sarah compliments as we walk in through the side door.
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"Thank you Mrs. Alexander," Chloe responds politely and takes her coat. "Sarah. Call me Sarah." "Mom, do you need help with anything?" Dad asks hobbling into the kitchen on his temporary cane. "No, you go sit down. We can handle it." She dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "How's your leg, Logan? It looks like it's bothering you more than usual," I ask concerned as we unload Grandma Sarah's car. "I'm fine. I'm just not used to sitting in one spot like that for so long." "Grandma Sarah would have stopped, you should have said something," I frown at him. "Are you kidding me? That woman was on a mission. I've never seen anyone her age drive that fast," he leans over to pick up his duffel bag. "I bet you wish you would have brought your iPod." "I thought about pretending to fall asleep a couple of times, but didn't want to be rude. On the way home, yeah, you are so riding in the front," he tells me as we make our way back inside. "I was only trying to be considerate. I know the front seat has more room for you to stretch out your legs," I say, hoping he buys my story. "Trinity?" He stops walking and looks at me, shaking his head. "Yeah?" I say, avoiding his eyes. "Did anyone ever tell you that you can go to hell for lying?" Grandma Sarah is busy with baby Ethan and her cup of coffee, leaving Logan and I to get everything carried in from the car. "Don't get up. We've got it," I say sarcastically as we carry the last of the stuff into the kitchen.
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"Chloe, where do you want us to put this stuff?" I ask since I'm pretty sure she doesn't want everyone's overnight bags in the middle of her magazine-cover-kitchen. Chloe glances first at me, then at Grandma Sarah and then Logan. I guess it finally dawns on her three additional people need a place to sleep tonight. Not too bright, that one. I'm just sayin'. "Why don't you bring Sarah's things into the guest room? Follow me," she says. "Ugh, Grandma Sarah, what do you have in this thing? It must weigh a hundred pounds," I grimace as I swing her overnight bag over my shoulder. "Oh stop exaggerating, it does not weight that much. I just brought a couple of books along to read later. That's probably why it's so heavy," she says as she continues bouncing Ethan on her knee. Obviously, she's more concerned with entertaining him than she is about me throwing my back out. Grandma Sarah is staying in the guest room down the hall from the master bedroom. Logan will sleep on the pull-out sofa in the den, and I get the sectional in the family room downstairs. I don't bother to tell them that Logan has morals. He won't sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to see me so they needn't worry. Of course, I also don't tell them I might sneak upstairs to see him. I might do it, too. Just to see the look on his face. I bring my things downstairs and think about just staying down here. It probably wouldn't be fair to Logan if I left him alone with them, though. Since I'm not in any hurry, I sit down to relax for a few minutes. "Trinity? Hey, wake up!" Logan says shaking my shoulder. "Hmm?" I yawn.
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"Trinity, it's time to eat," he says. From the tone of his voice, I can tell he must be annoyed at me for leaving him alone with them for a few minutes. "Eat?" I crack open first one eye, then the other. Squinting up at him I see him glower impatient for me to wake up. "I must have dozed off," I tell him and swing my legs off the couch sitting up. "Ya think? No. Dozing off would be a quick cat nap. You left me up there alone for over an hour," he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tapping his foot impatiently. "Crap! I was just going to relax for a few minutes. I'm sorry." He looks as if he's not sure whether to believe me, but he doesn't really have much choice. "Come on, let's eat," he tells me reaching out to help me off the couch. I consider just pulling him back down with me instead, but from the look on his face, I don't think he'd appreciate my sense of humor -- or timing -- right now. I begrudgingly let him pull me to my feet and wrap my arms around his neck and give him a quick kiss. He protests for about half a second before I feel him relax and return the kiss. "Come on you two, it's time to eat. There will be time for that later," Dad calls out interrupting the moment. We jump apart, instantly embarrassed seeing my dad at the bottom of the stairs watching us. I smile sheepishly at Logan; feeling like my cheeks are on fire and giggle. He doesn't think it's terribly funny apparently because he's giving me the look. "Oh lighten up," I tease. "Lighten up? I'll think about it," he says, swatting my behind as I run up the stairs ahead of him.
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After dinner, I drag Logan back downstairs to watch a movie. "You two behave down there," Dad says -- joking, I think. I glance at Logan and laugh because he's blushing. Normally, it takes a lot to make Logan blush and I've witnessed it twice in one day. I smile to myself smugly; it's gratifying to see him blush instead of me for a change. I know that there's no way Logan will do anything, especially if he thinks my dad might come down to check on us at any time. "Trinity behave, what if your dad comes down?" He protests halfheartedly as I snuggle closer for a kiss. "Whatever, chicken," I tease, grinning in satisfaction. "Just remember, paybacks are hell." "I'm thinking about sneaking up to your room later when everyone's asleep," I say just to see the color drain from his face. "You wouldn't dare," he looks at me as if I've finally lost my mind. "Wouldn't I?" I smile wickedly. "Ok, who wants to challenge me in a game of pool?" Dad's voice booms interrupting our conversation. "I think I can still play." "You're on. But you have to break," I say getting up to pick out a cue. "I break like a girl." Dad's break is a good strong one that sends a stripe and a solid spinning in opposite directions before rolling into two different pockets. He takes solids, and I don't blame him from the way they are spread out across the table. He's pretty cocky after beating me so easily, despite my feeble attempts to keep it close. I'm a pretty decent pool player, but I'm no match for him. He taught me everything I know.
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When he challenges Logan to a game, I venture up to the kitchen for some of Grandma Sarah's world's best pecan pie while they play. "You didn't leave Logan alone with Daniel, did you?" Chloe asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, why?" I ask while serving myself a healthy slice of pie. "Is that a bad thing?" Chloe and Grandma Sarah exchange worried glances. "No." Chloe fidgets uncomfortably, and rubs her neck. "I'm sure he won't say anything." Now she has me wondering if I need to take my pie back downstairs to rescue Logan from my dad for some reason. "Don't be silly, Chloe," Grandma Sarah says, patting her hand. "Daniel wouldn't" "Okay, what's going on?" I interrupt, peering at them closely for an answer. "What wouldn't he do?" They exchange another worried glance and Chloe -- doing that nervous thing she does -rubs her neck distractedly. "Well, Trinity," Chloe begins nervously, "you know, your father is a plastic surgeon. We just worry he might be inclined to, umm, er well mention Logan's scars." "Are you freaking kidding me? He wouldn't!" My voice raises a few octaves. "Logan is very sensitive about his scars." "I'm sure your father will be tactful. If he even says anything at all," Grandma Sarah says quietly, trying to calm me down. "He is a professional, after all." "Yeah right," I mutter and grab my pie. I'm off to rescue Logan.
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Before I can, I'm met at the stairs by the two of them. I breathe a sigh of relief as I consider them both for signs of tension. Nope, none there. They look more like best buds rather than Dr. - Patient. "What's wrong, Trin? You look kind of pale," Dad asks as he eyes the pie I'm holding. "Is that for me?"
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Chapter 36 "How was your Thanksgiving, Pete?" I ask when I see her at school Monday morning. "It was okay. I ate too much, as usual. Back on the diet today," she shrugs. "How was St. Louis?" "I survived, I guess. No major crisis. Dad didn't embarrass me by offering Logan cut-rate plastic surgery. Good times." She laughs, "Oh! I almost forgot. Aimee went to Derrick's house for Thanksgiving. Looks like you both got men now." "You're next." I assure her with a smile. "Pfft. Fat chance of that happening in this town," she snorts and rolls her eyes at me. "Come on, you don't know that. I mean when you least expect it" "Whatever. Too bad Logan doesn't have a good-looking brother or something." "No, no brothers. But, he does have a cousin that lives around here somewhere that's about our age, I think," I frown in concentration trying to remember Logan's family tree. "If he looks like Logan, set that up, would ya?" "I'll see what I can find out." Adam's standing by my locker when we walk up. "Where's Aimee?" I ask. "Riding with Derrick Brotherton," he wrinkles up his nose. "Why the look? Don't you like Derrick?" I ask, surprised by his reaction. "He's okay. If you're into that whole good-looking jock, rich kid sort of thing," Adam mutters. "Adam, you're just jealous that Aimee found a man before you did," Petri says poking him in the chest.
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"I guess we're both destined to be old maids, huh, Pete?" "Speak for yourself!" She snaps and thumps his head. It seems Adam hit a nerve, putting Petri in a mood. I shake my head. I watch Logan approach and walk over to him. Adam and Petri tag along behind. "Ask him," Petri nudges me blatantly. "Ask me what?" Logan says kissing my cheek. "I'll ask you later," I tell him, rolling my eyes at Petri. "C'mon. We don't want to be late to class." Logan and I have a free period this morning and spend it in the library. He's helping me with my Spanish since I didn't do the best on my last exam; I need all the help I can get. "So, what did Petri want you to ask me?" Logan eyes me curiously. "Pete's feeling a little left out. Aimee spent Thanksgiving with Derrick. I spent Thanksgiving with you. She's convinced she's never going to meet anyone," I say shrugging my shoulders. "And you're telling me this, why?" He asks, glancing at me sideways. "I might have mentioned something about you having a cousin about our age. I told her I would ask you." "I do have a cousin our age. I hate playing matchmaker, though. It never works out and someone winds up getting mad. Just not a great situation to get into," he says playing with the string of his hoodie absent-mindedly. "Maybe we can accidentally arrange a meeting -- you know -- so it doesn't look like we're actually setting them up," I suggest and give him a pleading smile.
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"Trinity I don't know. She may not even like him. He could be a band geek for all she knows." "Hey. Not everybody in band's a geek!" I say defensively, remembering my brief stint at playing the flute in ninth grade. I quit because I didn't want to be labeled a band geek. "His name is Christian Decker. He's seventeen and goes to school over in New Haven," he pauses looking at me hesitantly. "He's on the football team. Maybe there's a picture of him online somewhere." "This is better than online dating," I sigh. "And you'd know that how?" "Grace." I say, and realize he's never heard me call my mom by her given name. "My mom. She met the creeper she's with now through online dating." "Oh okay, well before you two go getting any wild ideas, why don't you let me talk to Christian first and see if he's dating anyone." "I guess," I agree. I can't wait to give Pete the good news. After Spanish, I don't see Logan again until he joins us at lunch. Petri has already asked me if I found out anything for her. I keep my promise to Logan and tell her I don't have anything for-sure to tell her yet. Of course, that doesn't keep her from taking matters into her own hands as soon as Logan sits down. "Watch out Logan. You're in the hot seat," Adam cautions. "I'm in the hot seat, why?" Logan asks puzzled. "Don't you dare listen to him, Logan." Petri drawls out slowly in that annoying Georgia twang of hers that I haven't heard for awhile. "I was just talking to Trinity earlier about something, and we were wondering if you might be able to help."
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"We?" I roll my eyes. Logan shoots me a glare and I shrug my shoulders. "Sorry." I mouth. "What do you need help with Petri? Spanish? Chemistry? Trig?" He asks avoiding what he's sure is coming. "No not school," she snaps. "I was just curious if you might know someone I could go out with." "C'mon Pete. I've only been here a little while. My friends list consists of you, Adam, Aimee and Trinity," he says counting each of us off on his fingers. "How would I know someone you could go out with?" He winks at me. "Don't you have a cousin our age?" Petri asks chewing on her lip. "You've met Kyla. She's not exactly your type though." "Not Kyla, you moron," she frowns. "A male cousin." "Oh why didn't you say so?" He laughs and leans away from the table as Petri swats at him. "I'd think that minor detail would be obvious. I mean I do like boys, ya know," she glares at him. "I know. I'm just messing with ya. I do have a cousin. But, like I told Trinity earlier, give me a chance to find out if he's dating anyone before you start getting your hopes up," Logan tells her. "Of course. Sure. I understand. Where's he live?" "He's from New Haven." "New Haven. Great. Thanks!" She smiles at him with a glazed-over look in her eyes and stuffs the rest of her lunch back into her lunch box.
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I know she's thinking Google and it's no surprise to any of us when she excuses herself to go do some "research" in the library. "So, Logan. You wouldn't happen to" Adam starts. "No!" Logan and I shout at the same time and the three of us burst out laughing. After school Logan and I run out to Akers of Love to help for a few hours. Babs is all recovered from her bump on the head. The building has been repaired and is good as new. "The place is all back to normal," I tell her, taking in the new ceiling tiles. "Whatever normal around here is." "The carpenters did a good job getting things put back together in a relatively short time," she reaches over to squeeze my hand. "Come, I want to show you two something." Logan and I follow her into the other room. "Where are Abby and her puppies?" I ask glancing around her lanky frame. She smiles broadly at me, "They've all been adopted. Over the weekend." "That's good news, Babs," Logan smiles. "Pretty soon all the cages will be empty again." "For awhile anyway," she sighs. "But as long as there are puppy mills and people that abuse animals, I'll always have a place here for them." "I hope there's a special kind of Hell for people who abuse animals," I frown. "I couldn't agree with you more, kiddo." Taking in the remaining dogs, I can't help but notice, "Pepper?" I ask softly. Babs shakes her head and looks at the floor. "Poor little guy gave up in his sleep the day after Thanksgiving." My eyes fill and Logan reaches for me, hugging me to him in a one-armed hug. "Oh," I choke out.
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"His last days were comfortable here," she smiles weakly. "Remember Trinity, all dogs go to Heaven." I nod my head numbly. "But on a happier note..." Babs takes my hand and pulls me over to a small cardboard box in the corner. "I didn't even know she was expecting." I look down into the box and there's a tiny brown dog licking an even tinier fur-ball. Mom and her two babies are safe and sound and could not be in better hands than here at Akers of Love. "Awe! Too cute. When did they get here?" "I think when Pepper died, they decided to be born," she sighs. "In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if these two might be his." "I think it's time I thought about adopting a dog," Logan declares. Babs and I look at him, "I thought you were a cat person." I point out. "Correction," he shakes his head. "I'm an animal person." "Which one?" Babs asks him. "The littlest one," he points. "That one looks the most like Pepper." "In about eight weeks, if you still think you want the responsibility, we'll talk." With there being only a few dogs left at the shelter, Logan and I don't have as much to do and only stay for a little while before we tell Babs good night and I take him home. In front of his house, he leans over to kiss me on the cheek before popping the door open to get out of the car. When he goes to shut the door, it makes a loud creeeeeeaking noise and sags to the ground. "Logan!" I shout. "What did you do to my car?"
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He shrugs his shoulders helplessly, "I didn't do anything. I was just trying to shut the damn thing." I shake my head and sigh. I pull up the emergency brake and get out to see if between the two of us we can get the door to shut. "Here," I tell him as I reach in and roll down the window. "You lift up on it, and I'll get inside and pull from the inside while you push from out here." I'm not sure how we manage to get the door to close, but we do. "Doesn't look like you'll be using that door any time soon," he points out. "No? Really?" I scowl. "If it's not one thing it's another with this piece of crap car." "Beats walking," he smiles. "Barely." I get in the car and slam my door with extra force due to my frustration. The rear-view mirror falls to the floor.
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Chapter 37 The day that took forever to get here has finally arrived-- Christmas. I wake in a great mood and not even having dad, Chloe and Ethan in the house will spoil that. Logan's aunt Gayle has made us promise we'll stop by Kriebstein Manor tonight. I'm anxious to see inside the place; it's been awhile. It's been all lit up with Christmas decorations since the day after Thanksgiving. My stomach does major flip-flops as I think about my plans for the today. I'm more than a little nervous and curious all wrapped up into one large ball of tightly-wound rubber bands. That isn't all that has me nervous. Logan's father has insisted on meeting me. Just thinking about that makes me break into a cold sweat. "Trinity?" Grandma Sarah calls up the stairs, bringing me back to my surroundings. "Are you awake up there?" "Yes, Grandma Sarah, I'm awake." I'm awake but still in bed and I start to think about emerging from the warmth of my cozy bed. "Well, I'm going to the grocery store before it closes for some last minute things for dinner tomorrow. Your father and Chloe will be here sometime this afternoon with Ethan," she reminds me. "Oh okay. I'm getting up," I mutter reluctantly. "Can't wait." "Won't you at least pretend you're happy they're coming?" "Yes Grandma Sarah," I mumble. "I'm pickled tink." "Trinity" She says sighing. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can. The stores will be a zoo, and it's starting to snow. I don't want to be out any longer than I have to be." I peer over at Mr. Magoo. He's as reluctant to get out of bed as I am, and probably just as thrilled about having company.
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"C'mon buddy, let's find you something festive to wear," I try persuading him off the bed with a bribe. "Mr. Magoo want a cookie?" That never fails and before I know it, his butt is hiked in the air in a doggie stretch before he bounds off the bed and heads for the stairs. Mr. Magoo likes wearing sweaters as long as they don't look ridiculous. Who would guess a dog's feelings get hurt when you laugh at their outfit? One year, we stuck a Santa hat on him and snapped some pictures. He got down right indignant when we kept laughing at the look on his face. He won't let anyone near him with that hat to this day. We make our way down to the kitchen which even smells fattening. Grandma Sarah has been baking all week. Cookies, candy, fudge, pies, you name it. No wonder she had to go to the store. There can't possibly be anything left in the cupboards to cook one more thing. I grab a Coke Zero from the fridge and home in on the cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter. Breakfast of champions, zero calorie Coke Zero and bajillion calorie cinnamon roll. When I was growing up Christmas was always spent right here at Grandma Sarah's house. Today will be just like all the other times, except the cast of characters has changed a little bit. Ok, scratch that, it's changed a lot. Dad has a new wife, mom is apparently reliving her youth somewhere out in Arizona, and I've got a new baby brother, sort of. Now, I actually live with Grandma Sarah instead of just coming for a visit. The best part is that even though my life was completely turned upside-down last summer and I was forced to move here, I never would have met Logan if all the awful stuff hadn't happened first. It's funny how things work that way.
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Grandma Sarah has two Christmas trees up this year. The one in the front window reaches almost to the ceiling. In these old houses, that's pretty tall. She decorated it in white and red with pink ribbons and bows. She says it matches the pink exterior of the house. The other tree is in the game room. It's trimmed in silver and blue. It's not quite as imposing as the one everyone sees from the street, but it's just as pretty. I think the one in the game room might be my favorite because all the presents are under it. With all the baking that Grandma Sarah did this week, I have no idea when she found time to wrap all these presents, let alone shop for them. My cell phone rings startling me. "Ho, ho, ho!" Logan cries cheerfully. "Did you just call me a ho?" "What? No!" "Merry Christmas, Logan." "Merry Christmas, Trinity. What time do you want me to come over?" "Well I have the whole house to myself right now, maybe you could come over and we could make out or something," I joke with him. "Trinity, what am I going to do with you?" "Is that why I'm still a virgin?" I tease playfully. "Because if you want, I have this book I got in" "Never mind, I see where your mind is this morning," he cuts me off. "I'm just playin' with ya. You can come over anytime, really." "I can come over in about an hour. Dad and I opened our presents last night. He left to go to Chicago this morning," he says.
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"He went to Chicago? On Christmas?" I ask surprised. "I thought he was going to be at Gayle and Collin's house with us all tonight?" "He said he'd try to be there, but to be honest, things would be a lot less tense without him around," he says with a sigh. "Be nice, it's Christmas." "You remember that later when he's being his usual unpleasant self." "Maybe he'll surprise you." "His just showing up would surprise me. But anyway, let's not let talk about him and ruin my good mood. I'll grab a shower and be over soon. How's that?" "Sounds good, and Logan, when are we exchanging our gifts?" "Gifts? Was I supposed to get you something?" I don't say anything, but I know he's only teasing. "I'm kidding Sparky. We'll exchange them later, when we're alone," he whispers seductively. "Ok, but seriously, I'd be happy if you just wrapped a bow around yourself. Then I'd get to unwrap you," I blush from the thought of him wearing nothing but a big red bow. "I'll see you when you get here." "I'll wear a trench coat and a bow and flash you when you open the door." "For God sake, make sure I answer the door and not Grandma Sarah. I'd hate to spend Christmas in the ER." I giggle; relieved he can't see me blushing over the phone. "Oh and you might want to wear some shoes too. It's snowing," We hang up and I decide unless I want my boyfriend to see me in my purple fuzzy robe and slippers, I should probably think about getting in the shower myself.
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When Logan arrives, I open the door and he's dressed totally in black. It's a stark contrast against the newly fallen -- and still falling -- snow. I wave over his shoulder to his Aunt Gayle as she pulls away from dropping him off. "Are you going to let me in, or make me stand out here in the snow?" he asks with a twinkle in his aqua-blue eyes. I smile and pull him inside and tell him, "Logan you look amazing." "You don't look so bad yourself," he says and wraps his arms around me. He smells as good as he looks. I grin wickedly wondering if he tastes as good as he looks and have to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. "What are you smiling about?" He says, glancing at me suspiciously. "Just wondering what's for dinner later, I'm suddenly hungry," I smile at my private joke. He grins back at me, reaches inside his black leather jacket, and produces a small golden box with a large purple bow on top. He waves it under my nose. "For me?" I ask eyes wide. "No. It's for your Grandma Sarah." "I'm sure she'll be very surprised. When she gets back from the store, you can give it to her." I say leading him by the hand into the kitchen. Grandma Sarah has mistletoe strategically placed over every doorway in the house, I swear. Stopping, Logan hands me the box. "This is for you. I hope you like it," Pulling me into his arms, he looks up, pointing at the mistletoe above us. Gently he places his hands on my cheeks but doesn't make a move to kiss me, yet. He just looks at me for what feels like forever. I stare into his amazing aqua-blue eyes. Slowly, he closes his eyes and his soft lips find mine. Kissing me tenderly, yet passionately, I
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feel as if we are the only two people in the whole world. A soft sigh escapes contentedly as I lean into him. When the kiss ends, he makes no move to let me go; instead, we stand in each other's arms in the kitchen surrounded by all of the food, and family. Blushing, I giggle and pull away. "Don't stop on our account," Dad says smiling broadly. "I was beginning to think I might have to tap on your shoulder so you two could come up for air." I guess as caught up in the kiss as we were, we hadn't notice dad, Chloe, little Ethan and Grandma Sarah standing in the kitchen watching us. I have no idea how long they have been standing there. "Sorry, but the mistletoe I couldn't let it go to waste," Logan stammers. "Hey, don't apologize to me. I was young once too ya know." Dad tells him. I smile at my dad and roll my eyes. "Did they even have such a thing as mistletoe back when you were young?" "Very funny, Trinity," Dad says scowling at my reference to his age. "It was about the same time someone invented the wheel." "Mrs. Alexander, this is for you," Logan tells Grandma Sarah, producing another gift box from inside his jacket. "Go ahead, open it now." "Logan, you didn't have to do that," Grandma Sarah tells him. Then turning to me, "Trinity, where are your manners? Take Logan's coat and hang it in the hall closet." Grandma Sarah carefully removes the lid from the box, "Oh it's absolutely perfect!" She says admiring the pretty engraved gold angel hanging from a red ribbon that reads: Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly. "I'll hang it in my car right away."
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I smile to myself, remembering Logan's comment about Grandma Sarah's driving when we went up to St. Louis on Thanksgiving. "I saw it and thought of you," he says proudly, and everyone chuckles. We've all ridden with Grandma Sarah. Trust me; she will never be one of those little old ladies that putt around town. Logan and I decide to open our gifts to each other when we get back from dinner at his aunt's house later tonight. His is already under the tree, and I put his gift to me under there too. "I thought we could just have some ham sandwiches for lunch, since we're all going to be eating later at the party," Grandma Sarah suggests. "Trinity, why don't you and Logan help your dad and Chloe unload their car. You can put them in the tower room upstairs," Grandma Sarah tells us after we've eaten. Logan and I exchange glances. "C'mon Logan, no rest for the weary." I grab his coat out of the hall closet and shrug into mine so we can get their things from the car. When I return to the kitchen, everyone stops talking abruptly the way that people do when you've interrupted a conversation where you're the topic. I glance at Logan and he's trying to conceal a smile. "What's going on in here?" I ask. "Nothing. Why do you think something's going on?" Logan snickers. "Maybe because you look like the cat who ate the canary and would make a very bad poker player, that's why," I cross my arms in front of my chest defiantly. "Out with it." "Trinity, let's get that stuff out of the car," dad tells me. Now I realize everyone's got their coats on.
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"Hmph." I shake my head and turn toward the door. Logan steps up behind me and puts his hands over my eyes. "Don't peek," he tells me. "Have you all lost your mind? What exactly am I not supposed to see?" I ask, squirming around on trying to get out from under Logan's hold on me. "That white stuff on the ground? I hate to break it to you. It's snow. I've seen it before." They all laugh, "Humor us, Trinity. You'll see," Grandma Sarah cautions. I sigh and relax. "Okay, lead the way." We walk through the garage, Logan's hands still over my eyes maneuvering me around the obstacle course in Grandma Sarah's garage. I hear the garage door open. Logan leans down and whispers in my ear, "Merry Christmas, Trinity," and his hands fall away from my face. My first through is to scowl at everyone, that is until I see it. Sitting in the driveway. With a ginormous silver bow on the hood. It's a beautiful Kona Blue Mustang GT staring me in the face. My mouth drops to the frozen ground, "Is that mine?" I manage to ask. Dad steps up beside me, "Honey, I know you've sacrificed a lot this past year. One of the things was you've had to drive that worn out old Escort -- which you did without complaint," he grins. "Well without too much complaint, anyway. I know this hasn't been easy for you. Besides cars always were your thing and I hope you like it," he holds the key out to me. I run into his arms and nearly knock him over with my enthusiasm, "Dad. I've always wanted a Mustang GT. Always. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I snag the keys from his hand
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and slide myself into the driver's seat of my very own, brand new car. I feel like the winning contestant on The Price is Right. Dad walks over to the car and leans down to look at me, "Chloe and I have a surprise for you." He's got that look on his face. The look he had when he told mom and me that Chloe was pregnant. "No bad news. Not on Christmas, dad." I frown at him. "Honey, it's not bad news," he forces a smile indicating that even if he doesn't consider it to be bad news, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it. "Chloe and I've been talking and we feel that you've really straightened your act up. We want you to move back home to St. Louis." My eyebrows hit the ceiling of the car, "Excuse me?" Chloe slips in beside dad, "It's true. Trinity. You belong with us. We want you to move back home." "So, do I have a choice?" I gape at them. "I mean last time I wasn't given a choice." Dad blinks and straightens up, "Of course honey. You have a choice," he drapes his arm casually around Chloe's shoulder. "We just thought... well... that you'd want to come home. But it is your decision." "Do I get to keep the car?" I look at them. "I mean, even if I stay here?" Dad looks shocked, "Trinity, no matter what. The car is yours to keep. It's our gift to you," he reaches into the car and squeezes my shoulder. "Merry Christmas, honey." I watch the two of them walk away and catch Logan looking at me confused. I shake my head to indicate "not now," and slide out of my new car.
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Chapter 38 Logan's Aunt Gayle has transformed Kriebstein Manor back into the showcase it must have once been. Back when Grandma Sarah was my age and attending parties here like we are tonight. Gayle and Collin are proud of all their hard work and they should be. I can't believe this is the same place Logan and I visited back in October. Petri is here with Christian. With Logan's help they finally got together a couple weeks ago. Logan's father makes it back from Chicago in time for dinner. "Dad, this is Trinity Alexander," Logan introduces us, "Trinity, Mason Sharpe." I feel my stomach knot up, but surprisingly, he smiles warmly at me and offers his hand putting me at ease. Totally not what I had been expecting from him. "It's nice to finally meet you, Trinity," he grasps my hand firmly in his. "You too, Mr. Sharpe." I tell him and shake his hand. Glancing at Logan, he turns back to me and asks, "Trinity, would you excuse us for a moment?" "Of course, I want to say hello to Petri and Christian anyway," I tell him. I find my best friend with Christian and Kyla talking to a boy I don't recognize. I quietly insert myself into their group and wait for everyone to stop talking long enough for me to say hi. "Trinity, I guess you were right. This house isn't so creepy after all," Petri says pulling me into a hug. "Told you so," I say smugly. "What do you think of the place now, Trinity?" Kyla asks, obviously proud of the way the mansion has transformed. "I can't believe this is the same place!" I admit truthfully and look around at all of the festive decorations and smiling faces.
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"A-hem. Rude!" The boy I didn't recognize earlier clears his throat and holds out his hand, "Garrett Kriebstein." "Sorry Garret," Kyla apologizes. "This is Logan's girlfriend, Trinity Alexander. She lives at the end of the street in that big pink house." I smile shyly and shake his hand, "Nice to meet you, Garrett, another cousin?" "Yes, another cousin. It's nice to meet you too. I've heard so much about you. It's nice to have a face to go with the name," he says, glancing around the room distractedly. "I must make my rounds now." Petri takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, "He's single." I'm confused. "He's single... and this matters to me, why?" Petri rolls her eyes at my apparent ignorance, "No, silly. Not for you." I stare at her, mentally trying to read between the lines, when it finally dawns on me that our only available friend is Adam. "Ooohh, now I get it!" "Yes!" She squeals giving me a high five. I shake my head at her and laugh. We are interrupted by Logan's return and Collin's announcement that dinner is ready and will be served in the formal dining room. "Your dad was actually pleasant to me," I whisper to Logan. "What did he want to talk to you about?" "Yeah he's on his best behavior tonight. Aunt Gayle has that affect on him," Logan says, putting his arm around my waist and leading me toward the dining room. "I'll tell you later." I glance at him and see that he's grinning at me. That look he gets when he's being mischievous. I guess whatever it is will have to wait.
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Once everyone gathers in the dining room, Collin clears his throat and taps on a champagne glass to get our attention. "Excuse me, everyone," he begins. "Rather than make this a stuffy formal sit-down affair, Gayle and I agreed that it would be much more relaxed if we served it buffet style," he beams a smile at his wife, "Please help yourselves and enjoy. Don't be shy, there's plenty of food for everyone." Seriously? Looking around, I'm pretty sure there's enough food for a small army. I still think Collin should consider opening up his own restaurant. After dinner, Logan and I slip quietly away from the party and walk back to Grandma Sarah's. It is still snowing lightly, and the fresh coat covers everything in a shimmering soft white blanket. There's something almost eerie about freshly fallen snow, and how it seems to insulate the sounds. It's like being inside our own personal snow globe. It's as if Logan and I are the only two people in Disappointment Cove at the moment. Logan stops walking as we approach the house. Smiling down at me, he pulls me into his arms. "Before I moved to Disappointment Cove, I thought my life was over," he says softly. "Funny how things change." Smiling up at him, I wonder to myself if he can read my mind. "I was just thinking the same thing." "Are you ready to open your present?" He asks, smiling down at me in the moonlight. "I've only been ready since you handed me the box earlier today," I say truthfully as I lead him across the porch to the front door. "Are you ready to open yours?" He's grinning wide as he stomps the snow off his boots, "Beyond ready."
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After we take our coats off, we make our way to the game room. Dad built a fire before we left earlier, and there are still a few embers glowing in the fireplace. Logan stokes the fire and adds a couple logs. While he does that, I take our gifts to each other out from under the tree. Grabbing both boxes, I hand him his. "Before you open yours," he says handing me a small package wrapped in blue. "I'd like for you to open this one first." "What's this?" I ask, looking at him curiously. "Two gifts for me?" "This one's from my dad, Aunt Gayle and Uncle Collin," he tells me smiling at the look of confusion crossing my face, "This is what dad wanted to talk to me about earlier." "Did you know about this?" "No, I had no idea," he shrugs his shoulders, "Go ahead, and open it." I carefully remove the wrapping paper revealing an ornately carved wooden box. It alone is beautiful, probably quite old. I slowly flip open the hinged box and gasp, "Oh! Logan, it's gorgeous!" Inside the antique box is a remarkably beautiful tear-drop shaped aquamarine pendant. Gently, I lift it from the box by the delicate gold chain. It looks somehow familiar. "Do you remember when you were at my house, that portrait above the fireplace?" "Yes, your Great-Great Grandmother's port" I start, wide-eyed. Suddenly I realize why the pendant looks familiar. "Logan, this is just like the necklace from the portrait." "Not just like it," he says, gazing at me intently. "It is it. It's the same necklace." "But, how err I mean, why me?" I stammer nervously.
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He gently takes the chain from my shaking hands, and puts it around my neck. The coolness of the large gem against my skin sends a shiver through me. Clasping it, he turns me around to face him. "You're crying," he observes. "Why are you crying?" "Because I don't deserve this," I sniffle through tears of joy. "This necklace has been in my family for many generations. It was given to be given to my mother right before she died. Aunt Gayle and Uncle Collin suggested to dad that we give it to you," he tells me, smiling proudly. "You do deserve it and it looks fabulous on you." "Now, I feel kind of cheap for what I bought you," I tell him, drying my cheeks on the back of my hand. I look up at him shyly. "Oh stop, I'm sure I'll love it." I hand Logan a flat, rectangular box holding my gift to him. "I hope you like it." I tell him quietly as I toy with the pendant now hanging from my neck. "I'm sure I will, it's from you so I know it will be great." "Go on, open it," I urge him impatiently. Quietly, he tears off the bright Santa covered wrapping paper revealing the set of twentyfour Derwent Graphitint Pencils I bought for him at the art supply store right after Thanksgiving. Disbelief covers his face. "How did you know?" He asks as he looks at me wide-eyed. "Do you like them?" I ask, hoping the guy at the art store was right. "These are great, Trinity. Perfect, really," he says, flashing me a smile. "But how did you know I like to draw?" "A few reasons: One, I sit by you in art class and I've seen your work, like that perfect rose you drew," I pause remembering all the masterpieces he had produced in our many shared
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art classes. "Two, the drawings on the wall in your room and finally, your Aunt Gayle suggested you might like them." Shaking his head slowly, "I'm speechless. I don't know what to say, thank you." Relief washes over me, that and pride. "Okay, now, not to sound greedy or anything" I smile. "I'm ready to open my other gift." He hands me the small box he showed me earlier. "All right, your turn -- again." Opening the small box, I can't help but notice how light it feels, almost as if it's empty. It isn't empty, but close. There's a small note card inside. I look at Logan, perplexed. "Read the note, silly," he nudges me with his shoulder. It says simply: 'You will find your Christmas present in your bedroom.' The blood rushes to my cheeks as I mentally start painting the picture that suggestion plants in my head. A nervous giggle escapes me. "I guess I better go collect it," I manage to choke out. "I guess you better," he laughs, taking my hand. "Lead the way." He pauses outside my bedroom door. "What?" I look at him, confused. "Close your eyes first," he tells me. Noticing the wary look on my face, "Go on, close them." "Again with the close your eyes thing." Sighing, I oblige. "Oh okay, if you insist." Closing my eyes, I hear the door creak open slowly. "No peeking," he whispers. "I'm not," I protest, though the suspense killing me.
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"Okay," he says softly. "You can open your eyes now." When I open them, I smile up into his face. He places his hands on my shoulders and slowly spins me around. Leaning against the wall is a large framed charcoal drawing. Walking closer, I realize immediately it's a portrait of me. "I asked your Grandma Sarah to bring it in here after we left today." "Logan you drew this?" I ask staring at the perfect likeness in disbelief. "Yeah," he tells me shyly. "I've been working on it practically since the first day we met. I couldn't stop thinking about you," he says and wraps his arms around me from behind. "It's beautiful," I whisper. "The talent, not the subject." "That's not true, Trinity. You are beautiful. In my eyes and in here," he pauses turning me around to face him, he places his hand over his heart. I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Thank you, for everything." "You're welcome," he hugs me back. I pull away from our embrace and smile up into his beautiful eyes. "You know. Dad asked me earlier if I wanted to move back to St. Louis to live with him and Chloe," I tell him. "Yeah. I know," Logan looks down at the floor, away from my gaze. "You knew?" I peer at him. "Yeah he mentioned he was going to ask you," he squeezes me. "What was your answer?" "No," I bury my head in his chest. "I told him I don't want to leave Disappointment Cove." He kisses me tenderly "I love you, Trinity Alexander."
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"I love you, too, Logan Sharpe." Just then, my cell phone rings interrupting our moment. I glance at the display and it reads "Unavailable." Frowning, I answer the phone, "Hello?" "Trinity? Is that you darling? Merry Christmas baby!" "Mom?!"
THE END

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