Chapter Fifteen
L ogan was born in Chicago, the same as his father—a third-generation lawyer. The family was influential in the legal world, especially in their home city where their law firm was established. Generations of practicing attorneys meant he came from wealth, obviously.
Harper she was taking their history program. She was born and bred in Georgia and is the definition of a Southern Belle.”
Charles Howard Harper took Silvia Lillian Shepard Harper home to Chicago after graduation and Logan was born less than a year later.
He told me about growing up in two worlds.
“Chicago always felt like a fast-moving place, like a person couldn’t slow down even if they wanted to. I would listen to my father and uncles at the dinner table every Sunday night at my grandparents’ home. Absorb them boasting about their latest legal strategies and victories, and listen to them dig at each other if one of them lost in court. When I was little, I felt like I was in the presence of very important men even though I didn’t have a clue why.”
Logan took a sip of his drink then his lips spread in a soft smile.
“During vacations and summer breaks, my mother and I would visit her family, and my father would fly down to join us on the weekends in Savannah.”
His mother was an only child like Logan himself, the pride and joy of her father. Logan talked about his grandfather Shepard with a fond look on his face.
“He was a banker and my mother grew up in a big house on the Wilmington River. He passed down his passion for woodworking to me. I spent summers with him, learning how to fix and build things with my hands. He also taught me to surf at Tybee Island.”
“I was a bit obsessed with waves as a teenager,” he admitted as he eyed me with a grin.
“Savannah was a calm, relaxing place and many of my fondest memories are from my time in the South. I loved Chicago, but visiting Georgia always felt like going home. ”
I sipped my water, transfixed by his deep voice as Logan recounted more details of his youth, fitting more words into thirty minutes than I’d heard him utter since we’d first said hello over three years ago. I was pleasantly surprised as he spoke in much more depth than I’d expected. Logan was even a bit of a natural-born storyteller.
He moved on to explain the penthouse. “The summer before my senior year, we took a four-week trip along the eastern coast of Florida so I could surf different beaches. It was planned a year in advance so my father could schedule court around it.”
Logan was thoughtful for a moment as if remembering the details.
“We stayed at the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami for the first week. The second was a bungalow in Vero Beach followed by the third at a beach house in Daytona. My mother hated Daytona,” he recalled with another grin. “Miami wasn’t much to her liking either, but at least it had ‘fabulous shopping’ . Which is, of course, the truest way to a southern woman’s heart.”
“Poor form, calling us out like that. You are no gentleman,” I chastised him with feigned offense.
Logan laughed before continuing.
“Daytona was too touristy for her with all the gift shops, and so many people on the beaches, in restaurants and stores. My mother was anxious to leave and head to our last destination, a villa on the water in Saint Augustine. She was moody with my dad the last few days that week and it sure as hell followed us into the car. ”
I laughed with him this time.
“By the time we reached Ormond-by-the-Sea, I noticed my mother had her arm propped on top of the door and was resting her chin on it. She had a dreamy look to her as she studied the town as we drove through it. She had fallen in love with the charm of this little place.”
Logan looked content as he continued sharing the memory.
“I tapped my dad’s shoulder and pointed at my mom when he glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. He watched her for a few moments then gave me a wink and suggested we stop so I could check out the waves. A month later, he purchased the first unit.” Logan waved his hand around the room. “He sure did love to spoil her.”
His father soon bought out the other owners on the floor, renovations were started not long after and took over a year to complete.
I could remember the construction happening the following summer. Logan told me he’d left for college by the next fall when the penthouse was completed and hadn’t spent any of his youth here, so we’d never crossed paths as teenagers.
He’d completely skipped over talking about Natalie and I let that go earlier. Now I asked about college, hoping he would talk about his relationship more as over dinner he’d mentioned they met in high school and went to the same college as well.
“My father was happy I was continuing the family legacy in law. He was much less happy when I decided to accept admission to Stanford instead of Yale though.”
“Wow, Yale and Stanford. Not even close to just a handyman.” I covered my face and shook my head.
Logan chuckled. “I probably could have been happy as one honestly. I wanted to make my dad proud though, and hearing about the legal world my whole life, I was excited and driven to be a part of it myself.”
“So why did you snub your nose at tradition then?”
His smile fell. “Because I wanted to be with Natalie. She was willing to go to school closer to Yale, but I couldn’t let her do that. She was accepted to San Francisco and I knew how much she wanted to take their photography program. She had such a zeal for it and was so talented, always able to capture amazingly beautiful images.”
It was moving to hear how much Logan had supported and encouraged Natalie to follow her passion.
I felt a twinge of sadness thinking about my creative outlet. I’d considered pursuing writing in high school, especially since both my English teacher and aunt were encouraging me to do so.
Drew had snuffed my flame instead of fanning it. Telling me that my stories were nice, but that I’d probably never be able to make a living writing and it wasn’t practical to pursue.
I wasn’t passionate about it to the point of being devastated, but it had probably lessened my confidence that my boyfriend wasn’t exactly supportive. Instead of applying for schools based on writing programs, I’d signed up for community college.
Drew had been talking about me moving in with him when I was done with high school. Stepfather two and I hadn’t seen eye to eye very often and I was anxious to get out of the house so I’d moved into Drew’s apartment the summer after graduation.
I focused again as Logan continued talking.
“Once she had an empty nest, my mother spent the years I was in California going back and forth between Chicago and the beach here. She had the place remodeled with entertaining in mind.”
He pointed over his shoulder to the hallway by the entrance to the kitchen. “That leads to four large bedrooms, basically suites since they each have a bathroom and dressing room.” He pointed to the closed door on the same wall as the television next. “That is the actual master suite, which I occupy now.”
“Do your parents come visit often?” I asked.
Logan’s face fell. “My father passed away unexpectedly during my last year of law school. They were down here for a long weekend when he had a heart attack. He spent two days in the ICU before a second one that he didn’t survive.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I murmured, sad to learn Logan had lost yet another person he’d loved.
He gave me a grateful nod and cleared his throat. “My mother never felt the same about living here or in Chicago after that. She sold the home there and moved back to Savannah. She gifted this place to Natalie and me when we wed the following summer. We’d started spending our vacations here our last few years of school and both loved this place.”
Logan’s expression was shifting toward sadness, likely with memories of his wife, so I tried steering the conversation, asking if he and his father had been close. His brow relaxed as he nodded.
“He was loud and funny. He pushed me to excel at whatever I pursued and even though he was busy with clients my whole life, he was always there for me whenever possible. He coached when I was in little league. He made it to as many football and basketball games as possible when I played in high school. He was always home for holidays and birthdays.”
Logan told me a few stories about his dad when he was a kid or teenager, and I enjoyed them with him, but my thoughts started drifting to my father. He still lived in Nashville, where I was born. A few years after their divorce, my mother followed a new love down to Chattanooga, which had been stepfather number one.
I knew my childhood with my dad hadn’t been awful, but it was nothing special either. The only strong memories from my youth with him were negative ones. Often, they centered on my weight. He never bought treats, telling me I was getting too big. He would comment on my clothing sizes if my mother could talk him into taking my sister and me shopping for back-to-school clothes.
One of my worst memories of him was when I was in high school. I’d saved up from my after-school job to buy a car when I got my license. My dream had been a Miata and I’d found an older one for sale a few hours away and had talked my dad into taking me to pick it up.
While I was counting out the cash to pay the seller, my father was chatting with him. “I don’t know why such a big girl wants such a little car,” he’d casually said to the total stranger. I’d been completely mortified and cried as I drove the car back home alone.
“What about you and your dad?” Logan asked. I’d already told him my parents divorced when I was young.
I shook my head before shifting my thoughts to happier ones.
“My mother has always been there for me though, even when I was a kid and she was chasing love. She did find it a few times, but it never stuck for the men. They all did her a favor, including my father. She has always deserved the best and they weren’t it.
“My uncle, and Aunt Charlotte before she passed, have always been a big part of my life. My sister and I came down here every summer when we were kids and had so much fun while our mom was back home working double nursing shifts so we could do things more easily during the school year. Our dad didn’t do much past the required child support payments and I honestly don’t know that he even paid them half the time.”
Logan looked sad for me, but I smiled.
“I was safe, with a roof over my head and more than enough food on my plate. My mom came to every school event she could. She was at every softball or volleyball tournament, even if she had to nap in the car between games.”
I paused and looked down at my hands. My mother had been my rock growing up and became one for me again after my divorce. My father, on the other hand, wouldn’t be able to tell you five things about me, or my children, for that matter. Listening to Logan talk about his bond with his dad had made me a little melancholy, reflecting on that hole in my life. So much for trying to break generational cycles…
I gave Logan a small shrug and half-hearted smile. “I learned the value of one present, loving parent.” Ended up coming in handy actually, I finished in my head.
We spent the next half hour comparing timelines of our younger years, coming back around to college.
Logan seemed to have an easier time talking about his wife, relaxing as he sipped his drink. “We decided to wait until we were both done with school to get married and start our family,” Logan shared.
I felt embarrassed as I responded. “We got married after I found out I was pregnant with Grace. Neither of us finished degrees.”
There was no judgment coming from Logan. “If you had finished school, or could have done anything, what would it have been?”
“An author,” I admitted to myself as I said it. “My aunt was a big believer in expressing yourself. She acted like my stories were some of the best she’d ever read.”
“I’m sure to her they were. Have you written anything recently?”
I shook my head with a laugh. “Not for ages, actually.”
“How did your ex end up in the army?” Logan asked before taking a sip from his glass.
I swallowed hard then took a long drink of my water…
He got home late for the baby’s first birthday party. She was busy trying to be a good host and let it go, not wanting to argue about him missing most of it. He’d taken an extra shift at his construction job so it wasn’t even right for her to be upset with him. He was working hard to provide for them. They’d started talking about her maybe needing to find a job again as well.
She started cleaning up the mess after their family and friends left and the baby was down for the night while he went to take a shower. He’d kept his distance from her during the party and she wondered if he was upset with her for some reason.
She went into their room to grab something and heard his cell phone ding. He had tossed his clothes on the floor by the bed; the muffled sound came from the pile.
His mother told them she’d message the new address for her sister, who’d sent a present to the party with her, when she got home. She dug the phone out of the pocket of his work pants so she could get the information to add to her list for sending out thank you cards.
When a message came up on the screen, she stopped breathing.
She was standing by their bed when he returned to their room, a towel wrapped around his waist as he went to the closet.
“I think I’m going to see if I can get another shift next Saturday.” He buttoned his jeans as he walked toward her. “It’s quieter, and we need the extra mon—”
He’d spotted his phone in her hand.
She started screaming at him to leave. He yelled back as he ripped it from her fingers and shoved it in his pocket, telling her she was crazy and misunderstood what she read.
“You’re the one who is completely nuts if you think I’m going to put up with a lying, cheating bastard,” she retorted, getting in his face.
His hand came up, and before either of them knew it, he slapped her.
She crumbled to the floor at his feet, more in shock than pain.
He looked stunned as she slowly stood up, his eyes on her bottom lip.
She flicked her tongue out and tasted blood.
“Maddie—"
“Y-you need to go. N-now.”
He bolted from the apartment and once she knew he was gone, she cried her eyes out.
I cleared my throat and took another sip of water, giving myself time to think of a response to Logan’s question. I felt like throwing up.
When I’d been able to stop crying, I called my sister then packed bags for Grace and myself and left when she came to get us. I ignored Drew’s calls for two weeks while I tried to figure out what to do. I was heartbroken, anxious, and scared.
Sometimes, I wondered how my life might have gone differently if Drew hadn’t shown up at my sister’s door one evening.
I’d stood on the porch and listened to him beg me for forgiveness, claiming he’d never done anything like that before and never would again, both the cheating and hitting me. He’d also told me he went and talked to an army recruiter, that he wanted to give us a better life.
I was young and had no real skills; I didn’t even have my own car at that point. What would I do? How would I care for my child? Could I forgive him? He told me he wanted to change our lives and stay a family. I didn’t want Grace to grow up in a broken home like I had and have a harder time bonding with her father. And I still loved Drew.
I often wished I’d been a stronger, braver person at almost 20.
“We were a young couple with a baby. Drew… wanted to give us a better life and ended up in a recruitment office. They were offering a nice enlistment bonus. It would be steady income and housing. I wouldn’t have to work and could stay home with Grace while she was still little.” I gave Logan a smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “It seemed like the ideal solution.”
Logan studied me as I went quiet. I felt like he was searching for something and grew anxious. Looking away, I quickly changed the subject.
“Did you and Natalie want more children?”
He nodded. “Definitely. She was an only child also so we both wanted a bigger family. We talked about having three, maybe four. We weren’t having any luck though. It had taken so long to conceive the first time, we started to worry something was wrong. Riley turned three and we’d never had another positive pregnancy test.”
Logan looked uncomfortable but continued.
“We got tested and found out we both had genetics giving us problems. We were told Riley had been practically a miracle, that we likely wouldn’t conceive again without intervention. We were getting ready to start our fifth round of IVF when—” He stopped and shook his head sadly.
I reached out to his hand resting on the sofa and squeezed it without thinking about what I was doing.
Logan glanced down, then put his other hand on top of mine and I felt a tingle of pleasure.
“Were you trying for a while before Sadie came along?” he asked.
I shifted uncomfortably.
Drew never really wanted more children. I’d tried to convince him Grace needed a sibling for a long time but gave up when she turned 10.
Then Claire called, excited to tell me she was pregnant with her second child and I was blasted with baby fever all over again.
Drew and I were in a good place at that time. He was happy his army contract ended in less than a year and seemed excited for the future. He was home a lot more and was helpful when he was. I’d started to believe he was finally growing up.
When I’d brought up Claire’s pregnancy and how exciting it would be to have babies close in age, he’d surprised me and agreed to try. Six weeks later, I’d called Claire with happy news of my own.
I knew logically I had no reason to feel guilty, but I didn’t want to share that story after hearing the struggle he and Natalie had trying for a baby.
“We were happy with two,” I responded vaguely. “I adore Sadie and wouldn’t change her for anything in the world. I was kind of hoping for a boy the second time though.”
“That nuclear family picture is appealing, I get it.” Logan looked out one of the windows. “We picked the name Riley for our first because we liked it for a boy or a girl. We waited until the birth to be surprised.”
I was reflective as well. “For a boy, my heart was set on Theodore. Theo for short.”
Logan lit up. “My grandfather’s name was Theodore.”
“The lawyer or banker?” When he confirmed the lawyer, it felt like an opening to ask a big question. “Why did you quit law?”
Now his face clouded as he opened his mouth, then closed it again. I was about to tell him he didn’t have to talk about it when he started again.
“I stayed in Chicago to work on a case. That’s why my family left for vacation without me. I’d planned to join them on Monday or Tuesday when I’d caught up. They were heading to my mother’s place for a few days to wait for me and then we were going to finish the drive down here together. I was in the office working late when my mom called, worried because they hadn’t arrived yet. I remember looking at my watch and it was almost midnight. I should have checked on them hours before.”
Logan absently lifted his hand to his chest, running his fingers along the rings underneath his shirt, the other picked up his glass to down the last of the whiskey in it.
“We didn’t find out until the next morning that a drunk driver crossed over the line outside of Atlanta and hit them head-on.”
He looked down at the empty glass he was still gripping with sorrowful eyes .
“I wasn’t with my family because of my career. I let my family down because of my career. When I lost… them, I didn’t want… or deserve it anymore,” he finished gruffly.
Oh, no. Logan wasn’t only dealing with grief, but guilt as well, somehow believing he was to blame for what happened because he wasn’t with his wife and daughter. No wonder he’d closed down so much, seeming so serious and standoffish for so long.
I reached out and put my hand on his again. This time he turned his over and cupped my fingers.
Logan looked up, eyes full of heartbreak, but he let out a breath that sounded like relief as if a weight were lifted now that he had said some hard things.
I squeezed his hand back, feeling sorrow but also touched that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me like that. I was trying to decide what to say next when his expression shifted to pensive as he sat forward and put his glass on the table.
“I recall in March you mentioned the girls’ father isn’t in their lives. I was wondering—” He stopped when he looked at me again.
I don’t know exactly what Logan saw, but my face must have been a clear reflection of the trepidation that had flooded me.
He squeezed my hand this time. “That can be a story for another time,” he said as he reached out and tucked some stray strands of hair behind my ear and my breath caught. Logan seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped his hand quickly as if he’d surprised himself.
He sure as hell had surprised me. I blinked a few times, realizing I’d sobered up completely. At one point, Logan had refilled our drinks. I was completely clear-headed again and my bladder was full.
“Would you mind pointing me in the direction of a bathroom?” I asked.