Chapter 28 #3
“No work at all, sweetheart. None.” He kissed me again, and we almost ended up in a compromising position in the middle of the parking lot.
How embarrassing it would be to get arrested for having sex in his truck.
The entire town would know. The news would probably be posted in the bar, with people gawking at the charges filed against us.
We would never live it down.
“Bye, Logan.” I gave him another kiss.
“No, don’t say bye, m’lady.”
“Don’t say bye?”
“Please don’t. Say, ‘See you later.’ Or, ‘I’ll meet you at your place.’ Or, ‘Where do you want to go to dinner tonight?’ Something like that.”
“Got it. See you later, Logan.”
He grinned at me. “See you later, honey.”
I paused on that. He’d called me honey and sweetheart and babe all the time when we were dating.
He got out of his truck while I was still pausing, and he opened the door and gave me another toe-tingling kiss.
I climbed into my truck. On my way home, I thought, what have you done? You have created another mess. Merry damn messy Christmas.
Then I thought of that last kiss. I sighed like a fool.
“Good morning, daughter,” my mother called out cheerily when I walked through the front door.
I had hardly slept. I should have been tired, but my mind was a tornado of emotions, all whirling together and affected by excellent sex and a man who looked like Hercules.
She had made coffee and was dressed in red sweats with reindeer. Her coloring was better. I gave her a hug.
“How are you, Mom?” What was surprising about my mother was how she’d blossomed these last weeks. The first week after her operation was rough, of course, but now she looked so relaxed, so calm and peaceful. “You look very Zen,” I told her.
She spent her time lying on her pink couch in her living room, my cats doing their job by keeping her company or chasing mice outside. She was reading books and watching TV shows and movies she’d heard about but hadn’t had time to watch.
She was spending tons of time with The Sisters and friends who kept visiting to “check” on her. For the first time since she was twelve, she wasn’t working. She looked…gentled. Softer. Younger.
I felt guilty again. Should I tell her to retire, and I’d run the bar? I cringed at the thought. I instantly felt depressed and overwhelmed, and I could feel my entire writing career fading away, disappearing into the tip-top mountains of Montana. But she was worth it. I loved her so much.
“I’m better knowing that you spent the night with Logan. The more intriguing question is…” She tilted her head, her dimples flashing with glee. “How are you? Ah, I see that you’re happy…glowing…energized and satiated.”
“Satiated, Mother?” I poured coffee into two Christmas elf mugs.
“Couldn’t help myself. Such a carnal word. I take it you and Logan are doing well?”
We sat at the kitchen table and stared at the Swan Mountains to make sure they were “still there,” as my mother said.
The view from the back of my mother’s house is spectacular.
The Swan Mountains are blue, white, and gray and the field behind our house often houses deer and elk and coyote.
You can see a world of animals ambling on by.
“I don’t know, Mom.” This whole thing was a disaster.
“Oh dear.” She grabbed my hands as she studied my face. “Baby, what is it?”
“I shouldn’t have slept with him.”
“Why? He’s always been the love of your life.”
“I know.” I put the mug down and buried my head in my hands.
Last night had been the best night of my life.
Being with Logan, holding him, kissing him, talking like we used to, our heads on the same king-sized pillow.
But why did I do it? Nothing had changed.
Our situation hadn’t changed because the problem he didn’t know about hadn’t changed.
Either way, Logan was going to get hurt here.
Why had I agreed to see his office? His home?
I’m not stupid. I envisioned what could happen in a graphic, carnal way, and I’d still eagerly skipped upstairs, my heart thrilled and thudding.
“I never understood why you broke up with him, Bellini. I’ve racked my brain.
I turned the situation upside down and inside out.
One day, you were happy together. The next, you looked like a ghost. You could hardly speak.
You were almost catatonic after you broke up with him.
When you both went to college, I know he called you, contacted you, he even came back to Montana to talk to you, but you were adamant that you shouldn’t be together.
I know it broke his heart, and it broke yours, too.
” She sniffled as her blue eyes filled. “Your explanations of not being right for each other, going to different colleges—they never made sense to me. Honey plum, please. It’s been years. Tell me.”
I rubbed my forehead with both hands as a wall of misery crashed down.
“Mom, I will tell you, but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.
You have to promise me you will not interfere.
You will not try to fix the problem. I didn’t tell you back then because I knew how you would react, and it would have made everything…
impossible. You’ll understand when I tell you. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“I will not tell a soul, not even The Sisters.”
I knew she wouldn’t. This time, I trusted her.
“You’re an adult, Bellini. Not an eighteen-year-old. I will hold my peace. I will not try to fix anything, that’s for you to do. And though I might want to charge out of here like a temperamental bull, I will not. I promise.”
“Mom,” I said, and my voice broke, multiple times, as I told her the whole thing. The full truth. Logan’s dad. His threats about the land. The secrets I held. Logan’s mother and her legacy. How I’d done what I thought was right.
“Dear God,” she said when I was done, then she pushed out her chair, bent over me, and hugged me tight.
“You’re right, my dearest love. I would have tried to fix it.
I would have come in like an avenging, sword-wielding goddess, and I would have made everything worse by interfering.
I am so sorry, honey. I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me.
I’m sorry for what happened between you and Logan.
I love you, Bellini, and now, finally, I understand why you did what you did.
I would have done the same thing. But, oh no. Oh no.”
We cried together. No howls. No hysterics. That’s not who we are. A few tears streamed down our cheeks as the Swan Mountains looked on. An elk stared through the sliding glass door in the distance. I sniffled.
After I made sure my mother had lunch ready for her and that one of her sisters would be over soon, I headed to work, my mind filled with the terrible problem that Logan and me being together would cause.
I also worked on all the details of the upcoming T and A show, including writing a formal, cool, totally professional email to Logan.
I knew he would appreciate the dichotomy of the email he was receiving with the rolling passion of last night.
I managed to keep all my worries and anxieties out of the email.
Dear Mr. Hamilton,
I am writing to confirm details for Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show.
Thank you for hosting this special celebration in your office downtown. It is very generous of Hamilton Architecture to donate the space.
As we discussed, we will be having rehearsals on Thursday and Friday evenings before the show on the twentieth.
The rehearsals will begin at six p.m. and will end by ten p.m., latest. On Saturday, the doors will open at six for the potluck dinner, and the burlesque show will begin promptly at seven thirty, ending at about nine thirty.
I do have volunteers who will be in your office by noon that day to decorate and set up tables. I will also be there.
It is my understanding the stage and catwalk will be ready for the rehearsals. Thank you so much for building both. We are grateful for your time and dedication. You are always welcome at Lady Whiskey’s for your free dinners.
In addition, please be advised that we—you and I—are act number fourteen. I expect you to be dressed appropriately. Do not forget your boa constrictor. Please make sure that you are practicing our dance routine each day for many hours so that I do not land on my head and mess up my hair.
If you have any further questions, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Ms. Bellini O’Donnell
Dear Ms. O’Donnell,
Thank you for your email.
The stage and catwalk will be ready for Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show rehearsals, the potluck dinner, and the final performance.
I understand that volunteers, including yourself, will be arriving at noon the day of the event to get everything set up and decorated. We will be ready to help here, also.
I can assure you that I will be dressed appropriately for our dance routine. I will wear my boa constrictor, and I promise I will not drop you on your head. I do not want your hair to be messed up either, although I have seen it messed up many times, and you still look gorgeous.
I am, as always, at your service, m’lady.
Yours sincerely,
Mr. Logan Hamilton
Oh please, cease my fluttering heart.
Lady Whiskey’s has an annual Christmas Carol Night.
I hired the same group that comes every year—six men and women in their sixties and seventies.
One was an actual rocker back in the day.
She played the drums. Three other people played guitar/violin.
One was a backup singer for a popular band in the nineties.
He’s sixty-eight years old, and his gravelly voice rocks the bar down.
The sixth person is our town’s orthodontist. She can fix your teeth and sing like Pat Benatar.