All of Me (The Bridesmaids Club Book 1) (29 page)

The grin on Tess’ face almost distracted him from what she’d said. “Mom?”

Tess walked with him toward the stairs. “Yeah, you know? The woman who gave birth to you and made sure you knew how to tie your shoelaces?”

Logan still didn’t understand what his mom had to do with Tess staying in his home. “Mom isn’t here.”

Tess froze on the stairs. “But she’s staying with you. We went to Yellowstone National Park together. She came to Bozeman for a vacation.”

“Mom’s spending a couple of days in Great Falls. A friend of hers moved there last Spring. She left this morning.”

“So it’s just us?”

“Is that a problem?” From the look on Tess’ face, it was a big problem he hadn’t thought about. “As long as you promise not to make any moves on me, I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

Tess looked down at their interlinked arms and frowned. “I won’t make any moves on you.” She let go of his arm and started walking down the stairs.

“There’s nothing to worry about then?”

Tess didn’t look back.

He followed her down the stairs. “It’s a big house. If I start snoring, you won’t hear me.” She must have remembered where his kitchen was from her last visit. She turned right at the bottom of the stairs and waited for him in the living room.

He looked at the pictures his niece had tacked to the walls so he wouldn’t forget her, then at Tess. She still looked worried about something. “Forget what I said back at your apartment. I can’t make you stay, but I’d like you to. I need to know you’re safe and not being harassed by unwanted phone calls and determined reporters.”

He saw the laughter in her eyes before he saw her smile. “Determined reporters like you?”

“Maybe not quite as determined as I am. What do you say?”

Tess pulled a small paper bag out of her pocket. It was the bag the sales assistant had given her in the drugstore. “Before I tell you my answer, there’s something I need to give you. Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday for another six months.”

“You’ll appreciate my forward thinking when you can’t hear me talking in my sleep.”

He opened the bag and saw four different sized sets of earplugs staring back at him. “Does this mean you’re staying?”

Tess nodded. “But only for tonight. By tomorrow morning, no one will care about an ex-model running a café in downtown Bozeman.” She linked her hand back through his arm. “You can make me a cup of coffee and tell me why I’m wrong.”

Logan smiled. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

“I’m smiling, so I suppose it is.”

Tess laughed. “Mission accomplished, then.”

Logan hoped so. He walked into the kitchen and took two mugs out of the pantry. “Cream and one sugar?”

“Cream, but no sugar.”

“You thinking about your jeans again?”

Tess sat on a kitchen stool. “I’m thinking about sleep. Caffeine and sugar will keep me awake half the night. If I don’t get a good night’s sleep, I end up giving people weird combinations in their sandwiches.”

He made two cups of coffee and passed Tess hers. “Come into the living room. It’s more comfortable than the kitchen.” Logan sat on a sofa opposite Tess, just in case she thought he was about to test her ‘no moves’ promise. “Have The Bridesmaids Club found another bride yet?”

“We’re meeting in two days’ time. Annie’s putting all of the letters in a box for us to go through.”

“How many letters do you have?”

“Too many. At least they’re easier to store than the dresses. At last count, there were seventeen letters and fifty-two dresses, and that’s after Connie took her four.”

Logan sipped his coffee. “Sounds like you’ve created a monster.”

Tess laughed. “Covered in satin, silk, and tulle. We might have to ask you to write another story asking people not to send us more dresses.”

Logan shook his head. “No way. I’m staying away from any story to do with The Bridesmaids Club.”

“Probably a wise move.” Tess leaned forward and picked up an envelope sitting on the coffee table. “You haven’t opened your letter yet.

Logan frowned. “It’s nothing important. How did Annie’s bowling competition go?”

Tess looked at the letter, then at him. “The competition went well, but Carl didn’t last the distance. Their bowling partnership broke up almost before it started. Why don’t you want to open the letter?”

“It’s not the right time.”

“The postmark’s dated two months ago. That’s a lot of wrong times.”

Sweat trickled down Logan’s spine.

“It’s from Afghanistan.”

He looked quickly at Tess. “You should have been a reporter.”

She didn’t look impressed. “Forget I mentioned anything.” She put the letter back on the table and picked up her coffee mug. “Did I tell you the Hospital is planning a fundraiser for their transplant center? Stan Lewis wants to know if Annie and I would provide the food.”

Logan pulled his attention away from the letter. “Big job.”

“It is, but I’ve got an idea. Pastor Steven has started a return to work program for the adults that go to the Lighthouse Café. One of the challenges is not having enough work opportunities for the people doing the course. Annie and I thought we could employ his students to waitress at the fundraiser. And if some of the students are good cooks, they could help in the kitchen. What do you think?”

He stared at the envelope.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

Tess frowned. “What do you think about the fundraiser?”

“The students will be lucky to work with you.” Logan could feel Tess’ gaze on his face. He wiped his hands down his jeans and picked up the envelope. “Pastor Steven knows someone who works in Afghanistan not far from where I was based. He asked them to find any information they could about families who may have stayed in the orphanage after the Taliban attack. He gave me the letter a few weeks ago.”

“And you haven’t opened it?”

“No.” But every time he walked past the envelope it sat like a noose around his neck.

“Why don’t you want to open it?”

Tess’ voice drifted across the open space between them and settled on his shoulders. The weight of her words dug into a part of him he wanted to forget. He picked up the envelope with shaky hands and gave it to her. “Would you read it to me?”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

Logan nodded. “When I came back from Afghanistan I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not being able to sleep is my main problem. I can’t sleep because I’m having a hard time working through what happened.”

“You think this will help?”

“I hope so.”

Tess looked down at the envelope. “Will you be okay?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you if you need to stop.”

Tess frowned as she opened the envelope. She pulled two sheets of paper out and carefully unfolded them. “Do you want me to read the letter word for word?”

Logan nodded. It was the best he could do. His heart was beating fast and he had to remember to take deep breaths.

Tess moved beside him. “Okay.” She glanced at him once more before looking down at the letter.
“Dear Mr. Allen. My name is Elizabeth Connor. I have been working at an orphanage in Nau Deh for the past eighteen months. It is my understanding that you are looking for any children or families that may have arrived at our orphanage fourteen months ago? I was able to find eight children that may have been living in the village at the time of the attack Pastor Steven described.”

Tess stopped reading. “Are you okay? I can get you a glass of water?”

Logan shook his head. “I’m okay. Keep reading.” Sweat stung his eyes. He focused on Tess. Only Tess.

“I have enclosed the names of the children on a separate piece of paper, with as much additional information that I could find.”
Tess separated the two sheets of paper and looked at the names. “Do you want to read the names now or later?”

“Later.” Logan’s voice cracked. His throat felt dry and raw.

“I’m getting you a glass of water. Wait here.” Tess jumped off the sofa and headed toward the kitchen.

He looked for the letter, but she’d wisely taken it with her. He’d made friends with many people in Afghanistan, but there was one family he wanted to find more than anyone else.

“Here you go.” Tess handed him a glass of water and he gulped it down in seconds.

She took the empty glass out of his hand and opened the letter. “
I have also checked the orphanage’s records and there were a number of families that arrived about the time you are interested in. These families have since moved to other villages and we have no record of where they have gone. I have also made a note of the families that stayed here while they rested and received medical treatment. I am sorry that I don’t have more news for you, but I hope this information is of some help. Kind regards, Elizabeth.”

Tess turned the letter over, then left it on top of the coffee table. “Do you want to see the names now?”

Logan nodded. Tess handed him the second page of the letter. Some of the names he didn’t recognize, others could have been people he knew, or simply people with the same names as the one’s he had befriended.

When his eyes read the second to last line, he nearly cried. Imzaa and Kushan Khan were listed with their children, Khaaky, Mallalai, and Chinar. Kushan and one of his daughters had been injured and had stayed in the hospital at the orphanage for two weeks. According to the list Elizabeth Connor had provided, they were still in Nau Deh.

“They’re there,” he whispered.

“Who’s there?”

“Kushan and his family. Abiba was their daughter.”

“Abiba?”

“The suicide bomber.” Logan dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. “Abiba was employed by the Army as an official interpreter. I worked with her for nearly a year. She was bright and happy. We were trying to organize a scholarship so she could study at an American university.”

“She was the interpreter that lied to you?”

“No. She was one of the few people I thought I could trust.”

Tess frowned. “She killed the soldiers and children at the school?”

Logan looked at the sheet of paper and sighed. “I’ll write to Elizabeth, find out where Kushan and his family are living.”

“Why did Abiba do it?”

“I’ve been trying to work that out for the last year. It didn’t make sense then and it makes even less sense now. She had so much to look forward to.” For the first few months after the bombing, he’d gone through everything he could remember about Abiba. She hadn’t said or done anything out of the ordinary. Nothing to make anyone believe she was anything other than a young woman wanting to make a difference.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Tess asked gently.

Logan looked through the living room windows. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“All the better to not be seen by super sleuth reporters. It will help shake some of the adrenaline out of your system.”

“You noticed?”

Tess picked his hands up and held them between hers. He was still shaking.

“There’s a store not far from here. They might sell chocolate.”

Logan dropped his voice to match the teasing note in hers. “Not good for your jeans.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered back.

Tess was still holding his hands. Her face was inches from his. The worry in her eyes brought him back to the here and now. “Thank you.”

Tess put her hands either side of his face. “You’re a good man, Logan Allen. If chocolate doesn’t help, we’ll find something that will.”

Logan was too much of a gentleman to mention some of the cures working their way through his brain. At least he hoped he hadn’t said what was on his mind. Tess had blushed beet red and looked as flustered as a rabbit in spring.

“Tess? Are you okay?”

She let go of his face and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’ll go and get my sweatshirt.”

Logan watched her leave the room and wondered what had happened. Tess didn’t get flustered. She didn’t race out of a room and almost trip over her own feet.

He needed to talk to her, find out what was happening. But it took more courage than he had at the moment, especially if he didn’t want to be disappointed.

Chapter Twelve

Tess turned over in bed. She flipped her pillow, pulled the duvet high around her shoulders. She’d tried counting sheep, imagined a lake glistening under a full moon. She’d even visualized all of her troubles going into a big vase and putting a lid on the whole lot. Except her six-foot-five trouble wouldn’t fit in any vase she had stored in her imagination.

It didn’t matter how hard she tried. Logan jumped free of any container she found, grinning at her feeble attempts to get him out of her head. At least she was trying to get him out of her head and not her bed.