Chapter Three
S ophie wound up working Sunday, of course. A tug broke down and a cabin cruiser had to be pulled out for a new drive shaft. She could have counted inventory in the hardware store, but she left that tedious job to Logan since he was the one who had hired the kid who had screwed it up.
By Sunday afternoon, she was down to the final 10 percent on her internal battery, promising herself a glass of wine while she made dinner if she could just get through helping Biyen clean out the playroom.
“What about this one?” Biyen asked, holding up a LEGO creation.
“Buddy, you have to make these decisions yourself. If you want to keep it, you can put it on the shelf. If you’re ready to take it apart, it goes in the bin.” She was trying to make up the guest bed. Why did she always grab the wrong corner of a fitted sheet? It was like a gift.
“But what if Cooper breaks it? You said he’s little. He might not know to be careful.”
“If Cooper comes over to play, you’ll have the bin in your room. That’s why we’re taking it in there.”
“But what if he gets up? At night?”
“Buddy, do you think Cooper is sleeping here?” She pointed at the bed.
Biyen’s distinct dark brows quirked in a quizzical way. He’d been doing it since he was a baby and it always made her want to laugh with joy.
“Yes?” he hazarded.
“No.” She shook her head. “Logan will be sleeping here.”
“Logan Fraser?” Biyen stood taller, as if even at his age, the Fraser name had the ability to put him at attention.
At that moment, the knob on the door at the bottom of the stairs gave its distinctive squeak-clunk . The stair treads began croaking under a heavy step.
This homestead had started as a two-room cabin with a cellar dug by hand, one that had been accessed through a trapdoor in the floor back in the day. When children had come along, the enterprising family had added a second floor. The stairs were accessed through a door beside the one that led onto the back porch. A small octagonal window illuminated the railed landing between the two bedrooms up here.
Around 1950, electricity had arrived with indoor plumbing. A stove and a refrigerator had been added, too. That’s when the kitchen had been moved and a fourth bedroom had been added downstairs. That one was over a proper concrete basement, but the original cellar was still in the floor under the kitchen table. Biyen liked to play there in the summer sometimes.
Sophie’s mother had made further updates while running the house as aB andB, giving it a new roof and proper insulation. Gramps continued to take care of small repairs like leveling a door or replacing a rotting post on the porch. The house was seaworthy, in his words, despite its noises of complaint.
Logan arrived in the open doorway. He wore shorts and a T-shirt and had a duffel slung over his shoulder.
“Hi.” His gaze touched her, Biyen, then skimmed the slant-ceilinged room and the plethora of toys on nearly every surface from the window ledge to the desk to the highboy dresser.
The room shrank, becoming claustrophobic. Sophie cleared her throat.
“I was just explaining to Biyen that you’re staying here so Cooper can have your bed at Storm’s house.”
“That makes way more sense.” Biyen gave himself a face-palm. “I thought Cooper was staying with us . Then he would play with my toys while I was away with Dad and that’s okay . I can share . But some of them are special.”
“Cooper and Imogen are staying with Reid and Emma and their grandma,” Sophie clarified. “ Logan will be playing with any toys you leave in here.”
“I won’t break any. I promise. Is that one special?” Logan dropped his duffel to the floor and crouched while Biyen took him through the wings and mismatched wheels on his creation, explaining how it traveled back to the Triassic period.
Aside from the occasional friendly greeting at the marina when Biyen checked in with her on his walk home from school, Sophie had never seen Logan interact with her son. All her protective instincts went to high alert while she listened.
At the same time, she grew self-conscious as she finished making the bed. It was shoved into a corner so it was impossible to tuck in a sheet or plump a pillow without crawling across the mattress. Very graceful.
“You can leave these in here if you want to. I’ll be careful,” Logan said.
“Thanks!” Biyen moved to add his sculpture to the ones already at the window.
“I didn’t expect you until after dinner.” Sophie breathlessly found her feet and moved to tuck the bedspread down against the footboard.
“I was sent to invite you all to dinner. Reid’s barbecuing burgers. Emma’s mom is making some kind of salad that everyone loves. The kids are excited to meet you .” He pointed at Biyen.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Biyen said.
“I think they’ll still be excited,” Logan said matter-of-factly.
“We’ll take one of your veggie burgers.” Sophie smoothed the rooster tail on Biyen’s crown. “But why don’t we take some of your outside toys over? The ring toss, maybe.”
“And the bubble tub?”
“Sure. Wait,” she commanded as he started for the door. “Logan needs somewhere to put his stuff. Clear the desk and the night table.” She picked up the bin full of LEGO bricks and pointed. “Shelf or bin?”
His excitement at the prospect of meeting new kids overrode sentiment. Everything was unceremoniously dumped into the bin.
“Thank you,” she said to Biyen’s back as he brushed past Logan and clomped down the stairs.
“Art moved just as fast when I told him there was a barbecue waiting for him,” Logan said.
She snorted. Gramps did enjoy a free meal.
“You’ll have to come in here so I can take this to his room.” There wasn’t enough space to swing a cat on the landing, but there wasn’t enough air in this room once he stepped inside and tried to shift out of her way.
She slipped by him and shouldered into Biyen’s room, leaving the bin in a corner of the floor by his dresser.
When she came back to the door of the bedroom, Logan was studying the rest of Biyen’s keepers on the shelf.
“I kind of wanted the LEGO bin to stay in here,” he said.
“Have at ’er, champ. Biyen will be dragging me over to Emma’s in—”
“Mo-om!” The door clunked open at the bottom of the stairs. “When can we leave?”
She bit back a sigh. “I haven’t had my shower, yet,” she leaned to call down the stairs.
He made a pained noise and slammed the door.
“I’ll walk him over. You can take your time,” Logan offered.
Everything in her pumped the breaks. Nolan was forever introducing Biyen to new women. Sophie was damned careful about confusing him with her own romantic interests. Of which there were none.
Logan was definitely not that . He was a houseguest who was offering a friendly gesture. Nevertheless, “You don’t have to. I’ll only be ten minutes.”
The door squeaked and Biyen’s steps clomp, clomp, clomped up to the top of the stairs.
“Mom,” he panted. “Gramps is putting the toys in his Gator. I’m going to ride over with him.”
“Okay. Did you get your burger from the freezer?”
“No.” Clomp, clomp, clomp as he descended. “Gramps!” The stair door banged again, followed by the door to the porch.
“I emptied the top two drawers.” Sophie pointed at the dresser. “Towels are in the closet downstairs, across from the bathroom. There’s a second toilet and sink in the shop. What else might you need?” She glanced around.
“Mom!” Clomp, clomp. Biyen stopped halfway up the stairs. “Gramps says buy more beer tomorrow because he’s taking the six pack from our fridge.”
“Roger that.”
Clomp, clomp, slam.
“Sometimes I envy people who do all of their communicating over text,” she said with a bemused smile. It was as close as she would come to apologizing for the chaos. If Logan didn’t like it, he could leave.
“Reid texts me so often, I want to slit my throat with my own smartphone. The grass is always greener.”
She had to give that one a small smirk.
Usually, on the rare occasions when Biyen and Art were both out, she reveled in the bliss of having the house to herself. Today, she was really, really aware that she was alone in the house with Logan. That she was heading into the shower where she would stand naked while he…
“I guess I’ll meet you over there? Er… I mean, unpack first if you want to.” She waved at the dresser again. “I’ll give you a key, not that we ever lock up. Gramps is always here and…” She shrugged. It was Raven’s Cove. If a local walked into your house, they needed what they came for and left a note telling you what they had borrowed. By the time strangers showed up in the summer, she was leaving all her windows open anyway, trying to catch a breeze.
Also, Gramps and Biyen were the only things Sophie truly valued. So long as they were safe, she didn’t care who stole her refurbished laptop or took the company four-by-four for a joyride.
“Thanks.” Logan moved his duffel to the bed and opened it. “I’ll get the beer tomorrow when I pick up my groceries.”
That made her feel churlish, especially when she was being invited to eat with his family today.
“There’s no sense cooking two meals,” she grumbled. “The dishes alone will become a nuisance. We don’t have a dishwasher. Buy whatever you plan to make and we’ll take turns.”
“If that works for you, sure.”
“It does.” God, this was going to be awful. She could tell. “I’ll see you over there.”
“Copy that.”
She thumped down the stairs and hit the shower. A cold one.
*
Sophie left her hair down to dry and smeared on sunscreen that Emma had given her. It doubled as a moisturizer, was reef safe, and didn’t feel like a coat of paint, which was the reason she had always resisted wearing sunscreen in the past—and wound up lobster red beneath her freckles as a result.
She pulled on her best pair of shorts and a ribbed tank top, then tied a flannel around her waist, anticipating the temperature would drop with the sun.
As she came out to the kitchen, she found Logan rinsing the draining tray after putting away the dishes.
“What are you doing?”
“Crew not cargo, baby.”
“Heh. That comes straight out of your dad’s Handbook for Evaluating Humans,” she said with a wistful chuckle.
She missed Wilf Fraser. A lot. He had been a very flawed man, one who had never made a politically correct joke in his life. In his view, if he had hired a woman, he couldn’t possibly be sexist. One of his son’s mothers was Indigenous, so how could he be racist?
Wilf had dreamed bigger than he could accomplish with his limited education and complete disregard for the reality of his finances. He had started more jobs than any one person could finish in a lifetime, and he had never, ever cleaned up after himself. Back when the boys were young, he would say, That’s why I had three sons.
Boy oh boy, had that brag come home to roost.
Working for him had been a challenge on many fronts, especially after Tiffany moved in with him, but Wilf had earned Sophie’s undying loyalty after he had hired her with only one year of apprentice training under her belt. She hadn’t even had to ask him for a job. He’d offered it. That had allowed her to leave Nolan and get on her feet as a single parent.
Wilf had also said, “You’re a smart girl, Soph. I never understood how you wound up rowing around cargo like that piece of shit.” Wilf had paid for the rest of her certification and, after Gramps had retired, left the running of the marina largely in her hands. Every time she asked for a raise, he gave her one without any quibbling.
“Ready?” Logan folded the tea towel over the rail at the end of the counter.
“Yeah.” She kicked into her flip-flops and closed the door without locking it.
They started up the path that crossed in front of the garden. This track through the long grass had been worn into the hill back when Glenda and Janine had been running back and forth to borrow sugar and exchange gossip. Nowadays, it was well trampled by Sophie and Emma.
Sophie’s agreement with Logan to not speak about anything personal, and to only speak about work at work, left a gaping silence between them as they walked.
Trystan had become Sophie’s go-to for the inside scoop if Emma wasn’t being forthcoming, but he had left on his first tour in the Storm Ridge .
“Emma didn’t say much about what’s going on with Storm’s aunt,” Sophie said when she couldn’t stand the silence, or her concerned curiosity, any longer. “I don’t want to pry, but should I be worried? Are you?”
“When has worrying ever solved anything?” Logan asked dryly.
“Okay, I’m worried. I can’t help it. Emma is Storm’s mom. Can you reassure me that she won’t lose her?”
His profile hardened. “I’d like to.”
“But?” She stopped. Her breath rushed out as his aggrieved expression seemed to plunge a knife into her belly. “How could they even think of giving her to Tiffany’s sister? She’s a criminal or something, isn’t she?”
“That was our initial impression. We were told she was in police custody, but she’s actually in protective custody. Once she finishes testifying, she could potentially ask to be Storm’s guardian. At that point, it would be a matter of who can provide the best care. Right now, that’s weighted to Reid and Emma, especially with Trystan and me here to support them. Plus, this is Storm’s home. Those are all things, we’re told, that make a difference in our favor. But nothing’s guaranteed,” he added with aggravation.
“Poor Emma.” Sophie’s heart went out to her so hard it was a physical sensation of being stretched and pulled. “I’ve worried about a lot of things as a mom, but never whether someone would take my kid.”
“Yeah, this blows.” Logan was worried.
As he should be, but it was a small shock for Sophie to see how affected he was. All he’d done since he’d arrived was give off vibes about how inconvenienced he was by his little sister. He had learned to be a decent caregiver, capable of changing a diaper and being a quick-draw on a bottle of formula, but when Reid and Emma had married, he’d been chipper as hell, starting to talk about heading back to Florida and his life there.
“Biyen’s dad never fought you for custody?” he asked with curiosity.
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?” He sent her a side-eye of puzzlement.
She hesitated, conflicted about revealing anything to him, especially something so personal.
“I didn’t really intend to leave him,” she admitted. “I came to visit Gramps. It was supposed to be for a week. You know, check on him, put a few casseroles in the freezer. When I saw your dad, he asked me when I was going to come back and work for him. The guy who had replaced Gramps after he retired was ready to retire himself. I had dropped out of my apprenticeship once I had Biyen and was serving in a pub. The money was okay, but I wasn’t getting ahead.” She had been supporting her son and her son’s father and had been deeply unhappy, but she hadn’t seen a way out until Wilf made her that offer.
“There was a spot available in the daycare so I said I would try it for a week,” she continued. “Your dad kept offering me more money to stay another week. Biyen liked it here and Gramps wanted us to stay so, after a couple of months, Nolan called to ask when I was coming home. I said I wasn’t.”
She felt Logan’s full attention swing onto her.
She didn’t mention this had all happened shortly after she’d seen him at Glenda’s wedding four years ago, when she had recognized two things: that she didn’t love Nolan and that she still reacted strongly to Logan Fraser—fueled by dislike, she assured herself.
“He didn’t want to join you two here?”
“I didn’t ask him to. I sent him money for back rent, which was the reason for his call, and told him I already had a child to look after. If he wanted us to be a couple, I needed him to be an adult. He showed up a few weeks later, expecting to move in with us, but Gramps said his stuff had to stay on the lawn unless he started paying support and rent.”
“Art doesn’t mince words, does he?” Logan grinned.
“Where do you think I get it from? I wound up telling Nolan he didn’t have to pay support if he let me have primary custody. He loves Biyen. I’ve never doubted that, but having a child is more responsibility than he ever planned to shoulder. We have an arrangement that works for us. Once or twice a year, usually around Christmas and Easter, I go see your mom in Port Hardy. Nolan’s mom lives there so Biyen spends time with his family, and I get my Glenda fix. Through the rest of the year, Nolan comes here and either sleeps on a friend’s couch while he hangs out with Biyen during the day or he takes him camping, which they both love.” Sophie hated camping so it was a win-win all around.
“And he’s—” Logan cut himself off, mouth going flat.
“What?”
“I don’t want to piss you off as we’re going into the party.” He lifted his chin toward the house where the lively voices of the kids were already carrying from the back lawn.
She halted and so did he. The suspicion in his eyes told her what he wanted to ask. She sighed.
“Nolan is definitely Biyen’s father.” She tried not to be defensive or angry or wistful, even though she had hoped back then, with a heart-wrenching type of despair, that her baby had been conceived with Logan. “Nolan asked for a paternity test. Biyen is definitely his.” Why else would she let him have so much access?
Did Logan flinch? It was hard to tell. He turned away, nodding, carrying on to circle around the house, wordless.
She absently rubbed at the scored sensation between her breasts, already regretting saying as much as she had. Did he think her pathetic? Slutty? Even Nolan had doubted he was Biyen’s father, which said everything about how she had been behaving at the time.
Voices rose in greeting as they appeared. Sophie found a smile and did her best to shed whatever leftover desire she had for Logan Fraser’s good opinion of her. It had never served her well and she needed it even less now.