Chapter Nineteen
S he’d needed this. This end of the school year—which came a couple of days later at her school than at the public school district—had been chaotic, as usual. She’d been working many extra hours to make sure everything was done, and done correctly, paperwork filed, grades turned in, and she was, as usual, a bit burnt out. And so on this quiet Sunday morning she’d headed into town, to walk up and down Main Street, looking at the familiar sites and clearing her mind.
When she saw Lark Leclair, soon to be Lark Highwater, coming out of the bank, she almost heard the zing of realization. Of course. Here she was spending far too much of her time thinking about and trying to figure out Logan Fox, when someone who could have all the answers was right here in Last Stand. Someone she’d actually consulted once before, over a girl in one of her classes who had had issues that were right in Lark’s wheelhouse.
Lark, who worked for a local private adoption group, had cut her teeth in Child Protective Services, but had left the government agency some time ago, for a variety of reasons, many of which Tris knew and agreed with. But Lark was far too smart to have discarded what that painful time had taught her. She would have answers.
And thankfully, she was kind enough to say yes when Tris asked her if, for the price of a Java Time latte, she could pick her brain.
“I’m trying to figure someone out,” she said.
“Aren’t we all?” Lark said with a smile and a laugh.
“Probably,” Tris agreed. “This is someone who grew up in the system and is now a…loner. I get the feeling—and it’s only that, I have to say—that he’s uncomfortable even among friends. Or doesn’t like it when there’s more than one or two he knows well.”
“Sounds like a classic introvert,” Lark said.
“Yes, it does. And there’s a lot of that there, but this seems…more. Like he assumes he’s not wanted or welcome. Or rather, is surprised when he is. Maybe that’s closer.”
“Is this one of your students?”
Tris grimaced. “I wish, because then I would have access to his history, and maybe that would help.”
Lark looked at her consideringly, and after a moment asked, “Is this somebody from Last Stand?”
That made her smile. “Yes. And if you ask me, an important part of Last Stand.”
The other woman smiled back. “I believe you. You were, after all, married to an important part of Last Stand.”
Comments like that always gave her a sort of double-sided snap, pleasure that people remembered and honored David, underlain with the sharp sting of pain that he was gone. Except…this time, the sting wasn’t quite so sharp. Because she was distracted, and wanted to know anything Lark could tell her.
“So, do you want to tell me who it is on the off chance I may know some specifics that I can share—understanding that there’s much I couldn’t, if it was from my prior work—or do you want to keep it vague and general?”
Tris hadn’t expected her to be quite so direct. “You’re going to fit right in with the Highwaters,” she said, not keeping her admiration for one of Last Stand’s first families out of her voice. “They don’t beat around the bush either.”
“Kane did,” she said simply. “It took a long time for him to trust. Sometimes he still catches himself slipping into his old way of thinking.”
The open, honest admission blew up the walls Tris had thought she needed. If, after what he’d been through, Kane Highwater had been able to trust this woman, then she had to be worthy of it.
“Logan Fox,” she said abruptly.
“Ah.” Lark said it as if she’d had a suspicion confirmed. At Tris’s look, she smiled. “I’d heard you two share a love of history and visiting historical sites. And that he went with all of you Thorpes and the soon-to-be Thorpe to the Space Center.”
“Oh.” Silly as it was, she sometimes forgot just how her brother could make any grapevine hum. “Yes. He did.” She threw away the last of her reservations. “I’m trying to understand, but he goes from open and interested in things to withdrawn and distant so quickly sometimes…”
She didn’t mention that one of those things was her. She was still wrestling with the very thought of being so…fascinated by a man. She’d thought that part of her life over. But she couldn’t deny he intrigued her, and in more ways than one. She wasn’t sure what to call it, not yet, but at the very least she wanted to be his friend. And not just because it seemed like he needed one.
But she sensed this was a man you’d have to tread carefully with, and to her own shock, she didn’t want to put a foot wrong with him. He mattered to her. Whether that could become something else, become more…well, she didn’t know that. Yet.
“If you’ve gotten open and interested out of him, you’re ahead of most of us,” Lark said with a smile. Then, seriously, she asked, “So, I’m guessing you want my take on how his time in the system might have affected him, and maybe caused this?”
Tris went with honesty. “I don’t want to ask just anyone, because I know a lot of people in town think he’s…odd. You’re the only one I know of who might be able to tell me, without me stirring up a lot of unwanted dust, or sparking rumors, or anything like that. I don’t want to pry into things that aren’t my business, but I don’t want to hurt him inadvertently.”
Lark considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t work at CPS anymore, but I still feel bound by their rules. So I can only give you my speculation on how it might affect someone, based on my experience.”
“Exactly what I want.”
“And,” Lark added, “in any case, I would never want to betray Logan. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”
Tris appreciated that, and liked that Lark had said it, and meant it. “I understand. I just wanted to know…if there was a way I could help, or at the least, not hurt.”
Lark studied her for a moment, then nodded. Tris felt as if she’d passed some kind of test. Lark took a sip of her latte, as if she needed to brace herself. And Tris had the thought that if this was how she felt about a case that occurred long before she’d started working for the agency, it was no wonder she’d left. And if she could feel that way about a case she’d had nothing to do with, it was no wonder she was so good at what she did now.
“All right. A child who went through what he did will obviously have trust issues.”
“I would think so,” Tris said. “The very people he should be able to trust most to take care of him, he couldn’t.”
Lark nodded. “And…” She hesitated, then went on. “This was in the news early on—it was a huge local story back then—so I’m not betraying anything that’s not general knowledge. He was very young, and there was physical abuse involved.”
Tris’s breath jammed up in her throat. When she could speak, she said in no small amount of wonder, “So a child who was abused and abandoned so young grew up to be a man who could calm frightened or nervous horses. In a way, that makes perfect sense.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Lark agreed. “But regarding your question, every child is different. Some adapt very quickly, some take longer, and some never adapt at all. A lot depends on their age when they came into the system. Babies tend to do better, and get adopted more readily, because there’s less…debris to deal with. The rest run the gamut from adjusting well to shutting down completely. Many will have trust issues ranging from low level to chronic and serious.”
Trust issues. The words rang in her head, explaining so much. “Even with people they—” she’d almost said “he,” but didn’t want to put Lark in an awkward position “—know, and have no real reason to distrust?”
Lark gave her a sad smile. “In many instances, it becomes a case of ‘not to be trusted’ until proven otherwise.”
Tris had had her share of heartache in her life, but she couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to know not even your own parents, neither of them, wanted you.
“And in most cases,” Lark added kindly, gently, “depending on age and situation, what happened will be part of them for the rest of their lives.” Was that a warning? Tris wasn’t sure, and before she could decide Lark went on. “And now I have a question for you. Why does this matter to you enough to ask me?”
“I…” Tris’s voice trailed away. But something about this woman, about the way she was looking at her, made Tris say the words she’d never admitted even to herself. “I like him. A lot.”
There, she’d said it. Out loud.
“Now that,” Lark said, sounding oddly satisfied, “I understand.”
Tris let out a long breath, feeling oddly lighter. As if what she’d said had somehow eased some tension inside her she hadn’t even really been aware of. Or at least hadn’t recognized, because she had never expected to feel it.
She liked—really liked—Logan. And now that she’d put it into words, and spoken them, it felt so…right.
She smiled at Lark. The woman had clearly learned about more than just children in her career. “I don’t know how you did that work as long as you did.”
“It was worth it, when things went well, and I got the right child into the right situation. I only left when outside things began to seriously get in the way of that. And now,” she said with a smile so happy and warm it lightened Tris’s mood, “there’s nothing in the way and almost all my endings are happy.”
“I’m so glad,” Tris said, meaning it.
They were walking out of Java Time when Lark paused and turned to face her. When Tris looked at her, she said, “If you can get him to tell you that story, to let it out, that alone might work wonders for him. As alone as he’s been, he’s probably never had the chance.”
Tris thought about everything Lark had said all the way home. And kept thinking about it after she was there, bits of the conversation flowing through her mind as she went rather mechanically about the bit of housekeeping she’d been putting off.
…what happened will be part of them for the rest of their lives.
She wondered just how much of Logan’s reticence and isolation stemmed from that sad childhood history. She guessed a lot. He wasn’t used to being welcomed. He wasn’t used to being valued, not just for what he could do, but for who he was as a man. As a person whose company people would enjoy.
If he could ever break loose and let them see the person beneath the withdrawn exterior.
If.
She realized, now that she thought about that very kind and gentle tone Lark had used, that she had been warning her. Warning her any effort she made might be useless. And that, Tris guessed, was the voice of experience talking. How many had she been unable to reach in that time with CPS? How many times had she run into a wall as strong and impenetrable as Logan’s?
It’s his story to tell, not mine.
Yes, Lark was a good person, the very best kind to be doing what she did. The kind you could trust, even if you were a terrified, abused kid.
If you can get him to tell you that story, to let it out, that alone might work wonders for him.
And she wanted that for him. Wanted him to be free of what was holding him back.
And you? Do you want to be free of what’s holding you back, too?
“One step at a time,” she murmured to herself.
Of course, she couldn’t get him to do anything if she never saw him. It had been a week since that lovely day at the Baylor ranch, but it felt like an eternity. She told herself it was because of all the extra work she’d had to do to wind up the year, but somewhere deep down that little voice she often had to quiet was telling her it was more than that.
And now she was, except for some meetings and a couple of extra tutoring sessions she’d be doing through the summer, free.
Free…to do what? Chase down Logan Fox and force him to talk to her? She recoiled at the thought. This did not seem like something that should be forced. But she wasn’t sure what else to do.
And late that night, as she lay in the dark unable to sleep, she pondered the fact that this—and he—had become so important to her. She even wondered, for a moment, if perhaps seeing her brother’s newfound happiness had somehow opened her up to seeking some of her own.
The one thing she was certain of at this point was that when the idea of seeking happiness formed in her mind, the only person she could think of was Logan Fox.