More Than a Memory

A petite woman whose head barely reached the shoulders of her husband, Donovan, or any of her four sons, Clare Logan was nevertheless no weakling. She proved it now by hooking Garret under his arms and muscling him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, but with his mother’s assistance, managed to stumble toward the downstairs bathroom. “Time for a shower,” Clare announced. “You smell worse than the pub after a bachelor party. I’ll fetch you some clean clothes, then I’ll feed Domino. A chore you should have handled hours ago.”

“Jeez, take it easy, okay? My head feels like I got kicked by a mule.” Garret leaned both palms on the sink and peered into the mirror before passing a shaky hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m entitled to tie one on, Ma. Or didn’t Brian tell you who showed up at the pub yesterday afternoon?”

Clare crossed her arms, but her expression became a shade more sympathetic. “Sean phoned first, then Brian. Honey, we’ve all watched you be depressed over that girl for too long. We grieved with you in the beginning. Back then we loved her, too. Now I’m mad as hell. She couldn’t have phoned or written to you once in all that time? You know she could have.”

Garret’s jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth.

“Oh, son, it’s been so good this past year to see you getting back to the Garret we all know and love. None of us are willing to stand idly by and let Colleen Drake send you into another black hole.”

Garret winced as his mother rolled Colleen’s name bitterly off her tongue. “Men don’t get depressed,” he argued. “I missed her and floundered for a while is all.”

“That’s the kind of stubborn thinking that kept you from enjoying life. You found out whiskey didn’t help before. It won’t do anything now.”

Garret sagged and his chin hit his chest. “I did try drowning my sorrows in booze. Luckily I hate hangovers.” And after several stiff drinks last night, Garret convinced himself he’d been mistaken yesterday at the pub. Now he wasn’t sure. “So,” he said, heaving a sigh. “She’s really alive? I started to hope, as Brian suggested, that it was her double.”

“Don’t we wish? No, she tried to book a room at the resort. Sean figured she’d stop there, and he called Trish to warn her. She made up a story about all the area hotels being full from now through the Mountain Music Festival. Sean and Brian hoped Colleen would leave and go on her merry way. Unfortunately, no one told the Californian couple who opened that new B and B in the south end. Galen was driving home from work and saw Colleen hauling her luggage into the old Rowan house.” Galen was the eldest of Clare’s four sons, and the only one not involved in Logan’s pub.

“Why do you suppose she came back after all this time?” Garret muttered half to himself as he turned on the shower. “At first, I could have sworn she didn’t recognize me. Then she hiked herself onto a bar stool and ordered sarsaparilla like she always did. I, uh, yelled at her in front of customers—a couple of salesmen traveling through White Oak Valley who’d stopped in for a beer. I realized what I’d done, and told her to meet me outside. But I just couldn’t face her. Seeing her was like an electric shock, Ma.”

“I’m disappointed in her. She doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by how she treated you, Garret. Brian said he told her she was wasting her time sticking around. This morning Jaclyn paid her a visit. She told Colleen that you and she are dating. I detoured past the B and B on my way here, thinking she’d have taken the hint to go. I assume it’s her car with Massachusetts license plates still parked in their lot.”

“Jackie should’ve stayed out of this. If there’s fighting to be done, it’s between me and Colleen.”

“Jaclyn’s seen you at your worst. She cares about you, Garret.You two have more in common than you’ll admit. She knows what it’s like to have your heart broken.”

“Yeah, but even so…”

“This room’s steaming up.” Clare reached inside the door and turned on the noisy exhaust fan.

Grimacing at the stab of pain in his head, Garret quickly shut the fan off. “Ma, I’ve told you—told the whole family—I’m simply not in the market for a wife. I wish you’d all listen.”

Clare held up a hand. “Take your shower, Garret. Domino’s been waiting long enough for his breakfast, so I’ll take care of that after I drop some clean jeans and a shirt outside your door. Once you feel yourself again, we can hash this out over coffee and rolls.”

“No food, Ma. Coffee, black and plenty of it, will do me. Thanks for sobering me up, but there’s nothing to talk about.” He meant that, too, as he shut the bathroom door and stripped out of clothes that did smell like swill. Garret loved his family, but at times they could be too interfering.

Stepping under the pelting spray, he tried to force his thoughts to focus. Not that he wanted to revisit the pain he’d suffered in the years after his return from Ireland. He’d brought home a wedding ring he’d intended to put on Colleen’s finger. So many times, he’d imagined how the stones would flash under the pub’s stage lighting whenever her talented fingers worked their magic on her fiddle strings. What would his family say if they knew how often, when he was alone, he took out the ring and the fiddle Colleen had played at the pub whenever he could talk her into it? She’d played there in spite of her mother’s vehement objection.

There was one thing Garret knew to be true. Sharon Drake had never liked him. She’d chased him back through the hole in the hedge between the Drake and Logan houses too often to count.

Over the years he and Colleen had gotten good at finding ways to steal time together. There’d never been anyone else for either of them. After they were old enough to realize they were in love, they swore they’d move heaven and earth to be together forever.

Colleen had broken that promise in the worst possible way, and it had nearly killed him.

Turning off the spray of water that had grown considerably cooler, Garret buried his face in a navy-blue towel. If only he could shut off the vivid memories as easily. He thought he’d succeeded in filing them out of reach this past year—until yesterday when he glanced up and saw Colleen standing there. She’d displayed all the poise and sophistication her mother had insisted she could have if Garret was out of the picture.

Garret wrestled with a million questions only Colleen could answer. One in particular haunted him. But he didn’t know if he was strong enough to hear the blunt truth.

Deciding to get answers one way or another, he retrieved the clothes his mom had left outside the bathroom door and got dressed. Garret hoped his mother had taken the hint that he preferred to be left alone. He should’ve known better. Meddling was a family art. Indeed, Clare Logan bustled about, bringing order to his kitchen.

“Hey, boy.” He bent slowly to keep the lingering dizziness at bay, and scrubbed Domino’s head and patted his wiggling backside. “No run today,” Garret said when the dog sat and stared longingly at the leash hanging next to the back door.

Crossing to the sink, Garret washed his hands before accepting the steaming mug Clare held out to him.

“I must say you look a lot more presentable than you did when I got here.”

“I feel fine. You don’t need to babysit me, Ma. I’m going to work as soon as I finish this coffee. It’s good, by the way.”

She snorted. “Don’t you know by now that flattery won’t get you anywhere with me? You’d say it was good if it was sludge, hoping I’ll hush up and make myself scarce. And I will—eventually. I have chores to do before I join Kellee at our pottery booth,” Clare said, referring to Brian’s wife. Clare, Kellee and Galen’s wife, Sheila, met throughout the year to mix, pour, fire and glaze unique pottery pieces they sold in local stores once a year during the arts and crafts fair. Garret remembered Colleen used to love to help, but her mother constantly complained that the chemicals in the clay would make her fingers too rough for playing her violin.

Clare broke into Garret’s silent musing. “Your dad is driving to Knoxville today to pick up supplies the community club ordered for the Art Association’s barbecue dance. Ride home with me. You can go along to see he doesn’t overdo the heavy lifting.”

Garret studied her through the steam rising from his mug. “This is Sean’s morning to volunteer at the firehouse. I can’t leave Brian to handle the pub by himself.”

“Brian suggested I ask you. He phoned while you were in the shower.”

“The way he bitches if he’s ever left alone to tend bar and cook for the lunch crowd? What are you guys not telling me, Ma?”

Guilt pinched Clare’s features as she avoided her son’s dark brown eyes, so like her own. Inspecting her lightly polished nails, she finally caved in. “It’s for your own good, Garret. On her way to work, Trish saw Colleen turning into the high-school parking lot. For whatever reason, it seems she’s determined to poke around town. Maybe she’ll find whatever she’s after and leave at the end of the day.”

Garret took a swallow of his coffee, which gave him time to process the new information. “She left White Oak Valley before she graduated. Do you think her visit has to do with that?” he muttered, finally setting his mug down. “Nah, any information she needed from the school she could get by phone.”

“Garret, we were discussing you helping your dad.”

Yeah, and he’d never hear the end of it if he turned her down. Not that he would. His dad had undergone a triple bypass the previous year, and the boys pitched in with heavy chores whenever possible. “Sure, I’ll go with Dad.” Besides, Garret figured it’d be smart to clear his mind before he talked to Colleen. “Give me a minute to let Domino run around the backyard first. Oh, and top off my coffee, will you? Then we can take off.”

“Really? Fantastic.” Clare sprang from her chair to get the coffee. “Do you feel like a breakfast roll yet? I used almond flavoring in the glaze just for you.”

He opened his mouth to refuse, then decided to save his arguments for the battle that was sure to come when his family learned about his plans to confront Colleen—even if he had to follow her to Boston. One way or another, he’d made up his mind that they were going to meet again. Today, he wasn’t up to a skirmish with her or his family, especially considering the way his head split when he whistled Domino back into the house.

But Garret knew he’d have it out with any or all of the Logans if they interfered with his seeing Colleen. He’d wasted one night trying to numb the shock of learning she was very much alive. Now it was time, as his mother had said earlier, to act like a man. A Logan. Surely she hadn’t forgotten what set Logan men apart from others. They believed in love at first sight and were loyal to that one woman forever.

There wasn’t much point in inviting another lecture by reminding his mom of that fact, Garret thought as they drove into town. When they arrived, he glanced over at the house where Colleen Drake had once lived.

So many memories had been woven between them over the years, until his life had been shattered by the news of her death. Only, she hadn’t died, and now she was back. Garret kept circling back to why.

JO RECOGNIZED the White Oak Valley High School building from the yearbooks she’d found. Hope had faded that she and Colleen weren’t one and the same person. And still it bothered her that driving up to the school evoked no memories beyond the photographs. While she had begun to accept that it was her picture in the yearbooks, and those were her talent awards, she wasn’t able to fathom that she’d hurt Garret Logan. She’d never been close enough to anyone to hurt them.

Kendra Rowan had volunteered to accompany Jo to the high school. It was only after she walked through the doors and didn’t know where to start asking questions, that Jo wished she had accepted the offer.

City schools had security guards at the entrances. Here, a person could wander at will. Jo stopped to study trophies in a case that ran the length of the main hall. There were awards for soccer, wrestling, basketball and 4-H ribbons. She looked for Colleen Drake’s name but didn’t find it. The name Logan figured prominently on a number of plaques and trophies. Jo concluded it was a big family.

In the office she was greeted by a woman working at a computer. “I came across some old yearbooks from this school when I was cleaning out a closet after my mother died. I just wondered if there are any teachers who would’ve taught here eight or nine years ago still on staff. I’d be willing to make an appointment to see someone after school or during a break. I’d really like to talk to them.”

“Eight or nine years ago? The board offered a really great retirement package four years ago. Most people who were eligible took the offer.”

“That’s disappointing, but I’m not surprised. Thank you anyway.” Jo had nearly reached the door, when the woman called her back. “Wait. Mr. Rice, our music instructor, came out of retirement at our new principal’s request. I don’t know if he’d be of any help, but he has a prep period that runs for another fifteen minutes. You’re welcome to see if he’s in the music room.”

Jo’s heart beat faster at that news. “I’ll go straight there. Where is the music room?”