Chapter 35
Logan
I drop the seventeen-pound turkey in the trunk of the sedan and then shut it and give the roof a tap.
“Merry Christmas!” The middle-aged woman waves at Jon and me before pulling forward, her holiday cheer punctuating the Christmas music playing over the market’s speakers.
I step back and assess the small line of cars snaking around the side of the building. We’ve been at this for almost an hour and there’s no sign of it letting up. “It’s like this every year?”
“People sure like their fresh, free-range birds. We figured out this drive-thru is the easiest way to do it.” Jon strolls up to the driver-side window of the pickup to collect the customer’s receipt that they received when they paid inside.
That was the deal for me to help at the market today—Jon does all the talking; I do the fetching.
“Twenty-pounder!” he announces, handing the slip to me.
I head into the refrigerated trailer to retrieve the appropriately sized turkey while Jon chats them up about the weather, the bison photographs he took that Sarah sells inside, and whatever the fuck else comes out of his mouth on any given day. I’ll admit, he has taken some decent pictures.
“Just toss it in the back seat here.” The man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward his truck cab.
I follow orders wordlessly.
“Merry Christmas, fellas!” The burly man drives off.
I won’t deny that seeing everyone in such good spirits is infectious.
“Logan!” My mom pops out the back door, her smile bright. “Guess who’s here!”
An older couple step out behind her.
“Uh …” I frown, stealing a glance my mother’s way. I’ve never seen these people in my life. Or have I?
“Hi, Logan,” the woman says. She’s slight with a gray-blond bob partially hidden by a knit hat. “I’m Carol Roth. You pulled me from Lake Temagami a few months ago.” Her eyes sparkle with nervousness and excitement.
“Oh. Shit.”
“Logan,” my mother scolds before hollering, “Thomas! Come and help! You’re on turkey duty.”
The boy trots out the door to take my place. It’s all-hands-on-deck today, apparently. Even Holt is in there, handing out pies.
The man with Carol notes the line of cars. “I’m sorry, this probably wasn’t the best day to come—”
“Nonsense!” My mother waves his worries away. “We’re so happy to finally meet you.”
Carol stares up at my face with a mixture of awe and something I can’t read.
“I’ve been meaning to visit for some time, and then Don said, ‘Let’s just drive up today and see if you’re around.
’ And, well, here we are and here you are.
” Her smile blooms slowly but it keeps going, spreading wider and wider until it seems to take up her entire face.
And I’m standing here like an idiot. “How are you doing?”
“Well, thank you. The doctors are monitoring me, and I have a slew of new medicines, but as far as that day goes, I’m fully recovered.” Somehow, her smile gets even bigger. “Because of you.”
“I’m just glad we got there in time,” I mutter, growing uncomfortable. Even the people lined up in the cars seem to be watching.
“Twenty-four-pounder!” Jon hollers, and off Thomas goes into the trailer.
“We won’t keep you from doing your job, but maybe we can come back another time, when it’s quieter.”
“Absolutely,” my mother butts in to say.
Carol hesitates but then closes in to grip my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Logan, for saving my life.”
I nod, awkwardness holding my tongue.
When she releases me, her husband, Don, holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake.
I accept it after a moment’s hesitation.
“I can’t begin to find the words to thank you,” he says hoarsely. “That was very brave of you.”
“Anyone would have done the same,” I offer as Jon and the recipient of the twenty-four-pounder eavesdrop. Thank God for this beard so they can’t see my burning face.
“No, they wouldn’t. And you’re the one who did. For that, I am eternally grateful. We’ll see you again soon.” Don slides a protective arm around his wife, and my mom leads them back into the market store, but not without winking at me over her shoulder.
That was … unexpected, and it leaves me standing there, unable to find my footing for a moment.
Thomas stumbles out the door, losing his grip on the turkey and sending it rolling down the ramp.