Cricket Cove (18 page)

Trace sighed. “I swear to you, I don’t know anything. I’ll ask Lori the next time I see her.”

“Which is when?” Logan asked.

“Tuesday.”

Emma was suspicious. “You don’t have any way of contacting her?”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that, Trace. You go ahead and tell us that, but I’m betting as soon as your happy ass can get to a phone, you’ll be calling her.” She stepped in closer to him. “You give Lori a message from
me
. You tell her that the days of the Campbell family trying to protect her from Roger are over. If I have anything to say about it, Amelia will be washing her hands of the whole situation. See, it’s just too convenient that after almost four years, Roger starts stalking Amelia about the same time you and Lori start sharing a bed. Maybe Lori turned him onto Amelia to keep him from looking too closely at her.”

Trace was outraged. “That’s despicable, Emma. You know she’d never do anything like that.”

“The old Lori? No, she wouldn’t. But she’s not the same girl you went with back in high school, Trace. She’s been through hell the last few years. And if she has a chance to grab at some happiness? Desperate people do desperate things.”

He shook his head as though he couldn’t comprehend it. Logan figured he probably couldn’t. “But setting Roger on Amelia?”

Emma shrugged. “Maybe she still blames her for Jimmy’s death.”

Trace shook his head again, and Logan could tell the man was honestly confused. “She never blamed Pip.”

“Not that we know. But Roger’s had her for almost four years now. Who knows what kind of indoctrination he’s managed to implant in her brain?” Emma brushed her hair back off her face. “Listen, you tell Lori whatever you want to tell her. She won’t ask Roger about it. She can’t. She’d have to reveal that you two are seeing each other. But you make sure you tell her that Amelia is going to be coming back here soon, and she’s got a mean-ass boyfriend who’s insanely jealous. I don’t care who you tell her it is.”

His eyes flicked to Logan, and Emma’s smile was cold.

“He’s fine. Perfect, in fact. Just make sure you tell her that if he gets a whiff of Roger around my sister, he’ll castrate first and ask questions later. It’s time we turned this little game back on him. We’re done hiding and running. As soon as Pip has had time to catch her breath, she’s coming home. Roger better stay clear, because if
I
hear one whisper about him coming near her, there’s going to be a lot of collateral damage, and I’m going to start with you. Understand me?”

“Yes. May I go now?” he ground out.

Emma stood back, and Logan slowly followed suit. Trace left the room with long strides, the door slamming behind him. No one spoke for a minute, and then Archer let out a tense sigh.

“Well, I have to say that was probably one of the best good cop, bad cop routines I’ve ever seen. The two of you scared that kid shitless. I thought we were going to have to clean up the couch.”

Logan and Emma both looked at him in consternation. Contrary to his jocular words, his tension showed in his face as he stood and moved to Emma. “You were pretty rough on him, Em. You don’t really believe all that, about Lori being behind the stalking, do you?” he asked as he put a hand on her waist.

She hesitated. “I don’t know. Probably not. But it is an awfully big coincidence, you have to admit.” She leaned against him and Archer embraced her fully.

“Why’s he so afraid of his mother?” Logan asked.

“She was sick earlier this year, and he’s an only child. I figured he wouldn’t want to upset her. Plus, she isn’t afraid to straighten him up if need be. She’s a good woman. She’d box his ears for having an affair with Lori.”

“You were right about one thing,” Logan told her. “She won’t be able to say a word to Roger about the stalking. There’s nowhere else she could come up with to have heard about it. But if she is truly innocent in all this, the guilt is going to be rough on her.”

“I know. Given how many laws we probably broke today, I didn’t want to add stalking to the list, so we had to explain why we were following her. The irony would just be too much.”

Archer kissed her forehead. “At least we got some answers. And who knows? Maybe this will change things for the better. Damned if I know how.” He groaned. “Moving on to other topics. How are we going to get Sydney to unlearn her new word?”

Logan saw Emma smile before she hid her face in his brother’s chest. “Oh, that cat is out of the bag well and truly. All we can hope for now is damage control. Speaking of Sydney, though, I should probably call up to John’s and see if she’s there.” She winked at Logan and headed for the kitchen.

“How are you going to tell Amelia about this?” he asked Archer as they watched her go.

“Hell if I know. I don’t know how she’ll react to Trace being back, and he and Lori… I know she always thought they belonged together but geez, Logan. Not like this.”

“No. Not like this.” Logan had no more tolerance for cheaters than Archer.

Emma came back in then, the cordless phone held to her ear. “Rachel and Sydney are at John’s. Rachel deduced what was going on and called a powwow. They’re getting some food together. You game?”

Archer shrugged. “Sure. Lo?”

He really wanted to head home and crawl back in bed, or to drive to London and see Amelia in person. Those weren’t great options, he knew, so he agreed. “I guess so.”

Later that evening when he got home, he’d decide whether to pick the phone up and call her or not. He had the number now, thanks to caller ID, and the temptation to use it was riding him strong. At the same time, he didn’t want to be the one who told her about Trace and Lori.

“Play it by ear. That’s all you can do right now,” he told himself as he followed Archer and Emma to John’s. “You’ll talk to her soon enough, one way or the other.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dear Logan,

Emma and Archer came down today and brought news. I’m sure you can guess what they told me. From what Archer said, there was quite the drama yesterday afternoon. And I hear that we’re now dating, on the verge of being engaged. You’d better be getting me a big ring, Casanova.

I joke, but otherwise I’d be crying. I did cry this afternoon after they left. I am lost. I have no idea what to think, what to do. Emma has a theory that Lori might be involved in the stalking. I don’t believe that, but I’m not sure my disbelief is because her idea isn’t logical. I am afraid it’s because I don’t want it to be true. I never thought she’d have an affair, either. Not in a million years.

It’s as though someone has spun me into an alternate universe where everything is upside down. I have fallen into the rabbit hole.

On the good-news front, I sent a query letter out to a publishing agent today. That is eyes only, Sarge. I haven’t told anyone in the family about it, and I don’t intend to until I hear from the agent. The last thing I want to be accused of is riding into success on Daddy’s coattails. I even submitted under a pen name. I don’t think Daddy would contact his agent to try to facilitate a deal, but I don’t want to put him in that position. I’ll either get accepted on my own or not.

My birthday is coming up next week and as usual, they’re predicting snow. When I was a little girl, I told Mom and Daddy that I was going to start celebrating it in July so I could have a real party. I can count on one hand the number of years it hasn’t been blizzard-like. I hope this coming weekend is clear, but I’m betting it won’t be.

Caleb and I went out bowling last night. He’s a hoot. There’s a very sweet girl who works at the veterinary clinic as a receptionist that I’d love to set him up with. If I’m here long enough, I may, despite his resistance. When he puts his mind to it, he’s nearly as stubborn as a Gibson. (Unlike us Campbells, who aren’t stubborn at all.)

I suppose I’ll sign off. Thanks for letting me ramble. And thanks for what you did yesterday. Archer said you and Emma impressed the hell out of him, and he was being serious when he said that. Hopefully the effort will yield some positive results. I’m going to wait to see if I hear from Lori. At this point I truly don’t know what to say to her. I tried writing her several times this evening but eventually I gave up. I alternate between anger and concern. Emma said something that resonated, and that’s the notion that one person can’t carry a relationship, whether romantic or friendship. She thinks I’ve carried this one too much by myself recently. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know. And right now, I’m going to let her judgment stand in for mine.

Take care,

Amelia

Logan folded the letter carefully and slid it back in the envelope. He didn’t lay it aside, but kept it in his hand as though trying to absorb the words into his skin.

It was Tuesday evening. He hadn’t called Amelia after the powwow with her family, as he knew Archer and Emma were going down to see her Sunday. But it had taken every bit of his patience and willpower to not pick up the phone. That willpower was shattered now. It was still early, only seven o’clock, so he picked up the phone and dialed. An older lady answered.

“Is Amelia available?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, who?”

Logan realized she probably had no way of knowing who he was. “This is Logan. Logan Gibson. Is this Eliza?”

She gave a soft laugh. “It is. How are you doing, young man?”

“I’m well, thanks. You?”

“Oh, fine as feathers. I hope you realize why I couldn’t just hand the phone over, as my granddaughter is officially in Georgia.”

Logan chuckled. “I figured as much. How is she?”

Eliza sighed. “Hurt. She hasn’t stopped cleaning for two days. Today was especially hard, since it’s the day she usually goes to visit Lori. We finally got her to go upstairs for a nice, long bath. That’s where she is now.”

“Oh. Then would it be all right if I call back later? I don’t want to bother you all.”

“Logan, you call back any time. I think it would cheer her up to hear from you. Give her about an hour or so tonight, and she should be nice and relaxed. Or as close as she’s going to get to it, anyhow.”

“Thank you.” He said his good-byes and hung up, then got up to pace the small apartment. He didn’t know what to do with himself for the next hour. Needing to feel some fresh air, he headed out to the screened-in porch on the back of the apartment. The concrete-and-brick building sat farther back on the lot than most of the other houses along the river, affording him considerable privacy. A sheer rock face formed the mountain on the opposite side of the river, causing the sound of the water bouncing off the hard surface to reach his ears.

Amelia had been correct about the weather if the way his hip and shoulder were aching was any indication. Though it was warm now, in the mid-fifties, a cold front was pushing through and would be bringing frigid air and wintry conditions to the region. The forecasters were predicting up to a foot of snow in the valleys, with more expected for higher elevations, starting with freezing rain tomorrow morning. Since the temperatures were then supposed to drop into the low twenties for daytime highs, whatever precipitation they got wouldn’t be melting for a while. The forecast had come with such a high percentage of likelihood, school had been put on a two-hour delay the next morning, just in case. If the weather turned as expected, it would be cancelled.

Thinking a hot bath sounded like a good idea, he headed inside. He stopped to grab the phone on his way, having learned the hard way a few months earlier that he might end up in the tub and not be able to get out. Though his muscles weren’t aching quite as severely as they had the night he and Amelia had gone for the run, they were most definitely protesting the incoming cold front.

He’d been in the tub five minutes when the phone rang. A glance at the caller ID made his heart race. Amelia.

“Hey.”

“Hey, back. Nonny said you’d called. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to check on you. I got your letter.”

“I’m okay.” She let out a breath. “You busy?”

He shifted to get more comfortable. “No. I’m taking a page from your book, getting a hot bath. Looks like you’re going to have a white birthday, I hate to say.”

“I’m used to it. So a bath, huh? Does that mean
you’re naked
?” She lowered her voice to emphasize the last two words dramatically.

Logan grinned. “As the day I was born.”

She gave an exaggerated gasp. “I don’t know if my little heart can take the idea of it. Naked, wet, ohhh my.” She ruined the effect by laughing.

“Gee, you’ll give me a complex,” Logan teased, enjoying the back and forth. “I didn’t think I was that hideous.”

“Hideous is not a word I’d come close to using to describe you, soldier boy. Wounds acting up on you?”

“A little. I guess they’re something of an early-warning system for weather fronts. Hopefully that will fade with time. So how long will it take for you to hear something back from the literary agent?”

“Could be weeks, could be months, could be never. It depends on whether my query interests them or not.”

“So since you sent out a query letter, I’m assuming that means you’ve written a book. What’s it about, Alex?”

She gasped, this time with genuine surprise. “You know my pen name? How?”

“Emma. And it might surprise you to know that I follow your columns.”

“Huh. Okay.” He could tell he’d flustered her. “That, um, that does surprise me. And yes, I’ve written a book. Two and a half, as a matter of fact. I’m finishing up the third of a trilogy now. Daddy always said if you go into the venture of writing with more than one book and pitch it, you have a better chance of getting a publishing contract.”

Logan shook his head, marveling. “When do you sleep? As far as I know, writing a book isn’t as simple as just typing up a few pages and sending it off.”

She laughed softly, and the sound was like a punch to his gut. “It is not that simple, no. I sleep when I can. And it’s taken me three years to write two books. This third one has gone much faster, or had been going. I’ve hit a block thanks to all the shenanigans lately.”

“That has to just add to your frustration,” Logan told her quietly. “And as someone who was part of the shenanigans, I’m sorry.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I believe you.”

The words felt like a benediction to Logan, and he closed his eyes against the emotions they wrought. “Thank you.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook completely, Sarge. So don’t get too comfortable.”

His laugh turned into a groan as he stretched his legs out. The water was getting cold, and he knew he had to get out soon. “Can you hang on a minute?”

“Sure.”

He laid the phone on the toilet seat and unplugged the drain, then tried to stand as quietly as possible. He didn’t want her hearing him grunting like an old man. The water sluiced down his body, and he grabbed a towel off the rack above the toilet to wrap around his waist. Once he was out and dried off, he picked the phone back up.

“Okay, I’m back. Sorry about that.”

She cleared her throat. “Um, was that sound I just heard you getting out of the bathtub, by any chance?”

Logan paused on his way to the bedroom. “Maybe?”

“So you’re walking around with all your dangly bits swinging in the wind?”

The laughter caught him by surprise, nearly choking him. He had to hold the phone away from him to keep from hurting her ears. He bent double, and soon he had tears streaming down his cheeks as he laughed. He finally managed to regain enough control to continue the conversation.

“Dangly bits?
Dangly bits
? I don’t know how to answer that.”

Amelia was laughing on the other end of the line. “I would love to have seen your face. Oh, Logan. It was too good to pass up.”

“Well, we are practically engaged and all,” he replied. “I suppose the question wasn’t
that
out of line. Though I didn’t know you were that interested in my dangly bits.”

She coughed. “I am a sex-crazed virgin, you know. And there is that whole engagement to consider. There ought to be a few benefits.”

Logan dropped the towel and stretched out on his back across the bed. “I am at your service, madam. It’s good to hear you laugh.”

“It’s good
to
laugh. At my service, hmmm? What would you do if I showed up on your doorstep in a couple of hours, dressed in a trench coat?”

This time his groan was entirely due to the hot desire her words stirred up. “Woman, you try it. What with this storm system that’s moving in, we might be stuck here for days together. And we damned sure wouldn’t be playing pinochle.”

“Mmmm, I wish I were brave enough to do it. I should go, I suppose, now that I’ve offended your sensibilities.”

Logan didn’t want the call to end. “I don’t feel offended enough. You need to stay on the line a while longer,” he told her, his voice low. “Besides, you never did tell me what your books are about.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying this conversation.”

“I am.”

She gave a soft sigh. “You’re trouble, you know.”

“I do know that. You’re trouble, too.” Despite their teasing from earlier, the tone shifted and grew serious. “You scare the crap out of me.”

“All the more reason for me to hang up now. Will you write me?”

“You don’t think that’s just as dangerous as the phone calls?” he asked.

She answered quietly. “I think it’s more dangerous. I want you to write despite that. Guess that makes me crazy, huh?”

“No. At least no crazier than I am, because I’m going to do it.”

“Yeah?”

His response was solemn. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll hang up so you can write me. Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

He lay on the bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts raced around in circles. If she’d been in Perry County tonight, Logan would have gone to her. To hell with upsetting Archer, he would have gone to see her. It took every bit of willpower he had to not call her back and beg her to come home.

When the chill in the air finally got to him, he stirred and threw some flannel pants on. He turned the TV on to catch the early news for the latest word on the winter weather heading into the area, but he had to struggle to focus. After seeing what he’d needed to, he turned the TV off and rested his head in his hands.

He was in trouble. He was in big trouble, and he knew it to the depths of his soul. If Owen Campbell showed up on his doorstep with a gun and told Logan to keep away from his daughter, Logan didn’t think he could. If Archer begged him to walk away, he wouldn’t be able to. He wanted her, both physically and emotionally, too much. But she wanted things he didn’t. He could almost get his mind around the idea of marriage to Amelia. He couldn’t get past the idea of having children with her, and he knew that was a sticking point.

“So maybe you let her decide. Maybe you’re reading things incorrectly. Maybe it isn’t your place to decide.” Resolved, he picked up his favorite pen and a notepad and started writing.