CHAPTER TWENTY
We’re all at my house, on the beach, celebrating Callie’s birthday. I can’t believe she’s four. It seems like only yesterday I watched as she came into the world. My hand moves to my baby, to the life growing inside me. At night, I lie in bed and tell our baby stories about his or her daddy; it’s just as much for me as it is for the baby. I ache for Logan. Not just my body but my soul, an emptiness that not even our child can fill. I had feared that I would forget his smile or his scent, that his memory would fade over time. It hasn’t; closing my eyes, I can see him so vividly, his small smile that is so rare a treat, his quiet intensity he has when he’s watching me, his laugh and the way it rumbles up his throat. It’s days like these that I miss Logan the most, the small gatherings we have with just family and close friends.
Ever since our trip to New Jersey, a lightness fills my heart. Logan’s out there. Believing that makes me eager to face each new day. One of these days I will see him in the crowd. I’ve been writing a pregnancy journal for Logan, documenting every day since that day in October staring at two tests confirming that Logan was still with me. Not stimulating reads—most entries are nothing more than details of raging heartburn or extreme exhaustion where I can only climb from bed long enough to walk and feed Reaper—but for Logan it will be a bestseller.
And it’s while I’m thinking about Logan that our baby really kicks for the first time, and not the squishy sensations I’ve been feeling for a while. Love tightens my throat, my hand moving to the hard little lump. Closing my eyes, I reach out to Logan wherever he is. “Please come home to us.”
“You okay?” Josh asks, moving across the sand to drag me back to the festivities, no doubt.
“The baby just kicked.”
Josh yells, “We got baby kicking action over here.”
Immediately I’m surrounded. Hands press up against my stomach. Rory and Briana’s eyes grow wide with wonder when their grandchild kicks again.
Gwen steps up next to me and takes my hand. “Wait until they start pounding on your bladder, not as much fun then.”
“No, I don’t suppose that is fun.”
“What do you think that is, a leg, a hand?” Rory asks in awe.
“I don’t know, but it’s damn strong.” And it is, now that the baby has stretched, it seems it wants to continue to stretch, spinning around in there, nailing me in a circular pattern.
A laugh bubbles up my throat. Standing here with my best friends and family, feeling Logan’s baby moving inside me, I need for them to know.
“I need to tell you guys something.” And I just launch right in. They listen without interrupting and when I’m done, I notice that their eyes all seem overly bright.
Gwen speaks up first. “Do you really think he’s alive?”
Briana and my gazes meet—the same feeling of hope and excitement is burning through her. My focus shifts back to Gwen. “I know I shouldn’t, because if he isn’t really out there, I’ll lose him all over again, but I really do.”
Tommy’s voice sounds harsh, but I know he’s trying to rein in the swell of hope. “What’s he waiting for?”
“I second that,” Broderick says, but it’s not anger that feeds him either, it’s love.
“I don’t know. Maybe just making sure all talk of David Cambre has faded before he reappears.”
“I can’t believe that about Elise. You didn’t like her. From the very beginning, you didn’t like her,” Josh says.
“No, but I didn’t realize she was sick. Maybe if she had gotten help, it never would have spiraled so far out of control.”
“If she had learned that you were pregnant . . .” Josh doesn’t finish that statement, but it does cause a chill to go through me, because I imagine if Elise had learned about that, it would have been the last straw. She wouldn’t have tried to kill me—she would have made sure she killed me.
Gwen pulls me from that creepy thought when she says, “I think it’s romantic, the flowers, the figure, the letter. Don’t get me wrong, if he is alive I’m going to smack him hard when I see him, but I can’t deny it’s very romantic too.”
“Get in line for the smacking,” Dante says.
I couldn’t agree more, he has a solid whack coming and then I’ll kiss him until we’re both breathless.
“How long do you suppose he’ll wait? It’s been six months already,” Gwen says.
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s before the baby comes. I have to believe he knows and that he’s watching. He’s planned it all out so carefully,” I say.
Pain slices across Tommy’s face. “You were right; when we first learned of his death, you said he wasn’t dead. We didn’t believe you. I’m sorry, Saffron.”
“Don’t. You were worried about me, worried I wasn’t coping, and under normal circumstances your concern would have been justified. Our situation is so not normal.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I really hope he is out there and that you get your happily ever after.”
“Hear, hear,” agrees Rory.
“You still up for walking me down the aisle?” I ask Tommy.
“Absolutely.”
“We’ll need to get you a new dress.”
Josh’s comment is so not what I’m expecting that I look at him like he’s on fire. “Why?”
“Well, because by the time you get married, it’s very likely you’ll be the size of a barn. Taking out a dress one size, maybe two, is doable, but to cover all that”—he gestures with his hands—“no one is that good a seamstress.” I smack him at the same time Gwen does.
“Oh dear.” Briana looks like she wants to smack Josh too.
“Hey.” He almost sounds affronted as he looks to Tommy and the other guys. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
“Hell no. You walked right into that one,” Tommy says, and at the same time the guys all take a few steps away from Josh, even Derek.
“Nice friends you are,” Josh mutters.
His eyes glaring at his love, Derek winks, so clearly he isn’t feeling repentant. And then he says, “Not going to work. I ain’t stepping into that, not with a pregnant woman. Too many hormones.”
“Two,” Gwen says.
“Two what?” Josh asks.
“Two pregnant women.”
My gaze flies to Gwen, taking in her flat stomach. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything since it’s your first, but I thought since we’re all sharing.”
“Oh my God. How far along?”
“Two months.”
“We can do this together. Gain weight, eat chocolate, cry for no reason whatsoever.”
“Don’t forget the non-stop peeing, back pains, and heartburn.”
“Yay!”
She grins at me. “Spoken like a first-timer.”
Briana hugs Gwen, a true mom hug. Gwen has awesome parents, but I love that Logan’s family and my friends have grown as close as they have. But then, under the circumstances, I suppose it was inevitable.
“Congratulations, Mitch,” I say.
His smile is pure perfection. “I was having trouble keeping it to myself. You aren’t upset, are you?”
“Not at all.”
“I told her that.” He looks at Gwen and, though he’s teasing her, I can see the love. “I told you.”
“You did.”
He kisses her hard on the mouth before he hands her the glass of juice.
“Look at them,” Broderick says. The entire group turns in the direction of the kids. Michael and Callie are imitating Reaper, all three of them chasing their tails, well, imaginary tails for the kids.
“They get that from Mitch’s side of the family,” Gwen teases, which earns her another hard kiss from her loving husband.
“Hey, I want to play,” Josh calls to the kids as he and Derek hurry over to them.
“He isn’t really going to spin himself in circles, is he?” Rory asks me, but he’s still looking at Josh.
“Probably,” Gwen, Tommy, and I say together.
“Maybe I should go find a bucket,” Briana says, but she’s already started off toward the house.
“There’s one in the garage,” I call after her to be helpful.
Broderick lingers with Tommy, Gwen, and me. He says, “We should have known. You’re glowing, more so than usual.”
Broderick’s right. “Why didn’t I see it?” I ask.
“You’ve had a bit on your mind lately,” Gwen replies.
Two months later it is once again the Swordfish Festival, my mental and emotional two-year anniversary of Logan and me becoming us.
Everyone is meeting in front of the bakery. I’m escorting Logan’s family so, when I enter the living room, I catch the tail end of Rory’s question.
“I’m still a little confused by the swordfish funnel cake. What exactly is that?”
“A weapon,” I say. And then I add, “Don’t eat one, believe me, you don’t want to eat one.”
I can tell he wants to know why, but at that moment Broderick looks at his watch. “We should get moving or we’ll miss the parade.”
Right, the parade. Every festival now has a parade. After the Seaweed Festival, Chastity was smitten with them. I start for the door, Reaper at my side, as we all head to what is now my favorite festival.
As we sit along the parade route I can’t help but think of the new festival this year, the one that kicked off the year of activity: the Quahog Festival. It was the first time I watched a parade since the Seaweed Festival: the bogus festival Logan planned so he could ask me to marry him. I miss him every day and every day I still search the crowd for him.
We’ve staked out a position just outside the bakery, where I sit drinking my decaf coffee with Reaper at my side. Josh joins me.
“Are you ready for the parade? I heard the Fletcher twins are in it. They actually requested to participate.”
“That’s odd. I wonder what they’re up to,” he says.
Before I can reply, Gwen, Mitch, and the kids arrive. Callie immediately climbs up onto my lap.
“Hello, Miss Callie. Are you ready for the parade to start?”
“Yeah.” She flashes me her dimples.
Mitch’s voice comes from just behind me. “How are you doing?”
“Hey, Mitch. I’m good.”
“And the little one?”
“Kicking.”
“Thatta boy.”
Tommy is the last to arrive, coming from a bakery, with a big pink box that he opens for Michael and Callie first. Gwen and I being pregnant get third and fourth choice: it’s a chocolate-covered cream donut for me. Yum.
The sound of the band makes its way down the street, followed by another sound: the unique sound that only the Fletcher car can make. Josh and I throw each other a look before we turn our attentions to the Fletchers’ car, which is slowly making its way down the street.
The convertible top is down and the seventy-three-year-old twins are sitting on the back like prom queens. As they approach, I lean up a bit to try to understand what they’re wearing. Josh figures it out first and immediately covers Callie’s eyes. Gwen, seeing his gesture, covers Michael’s eyes before she even understands why. But in the next few moments a silence falls on Main Street, because the Fletcher twins are going for their very own kind of sexy.
Their outfits are very reminiscent of Princess Leia’s slave-girl costume from Return of the Jedi. Their bras are made from clamshells and hang rather low. So much of their torsos are showing that the sight is a bit scary, and though their skirts are long and flowing, the side slits show off their skinny, withered legs.
Josh pleads, “Blind me, dear God, stab me in the eye.”
People are talking—or really, there’s whimpering, laughing, and gasping coming from the crowd, but even through all of this I hear that familiar deep baritone that always had a way of cutting through the other sounds around me. “If there’s a butter knife handy, you can take care of that for him, Saffron.”
My head jerks in the direction of the voice, but there’s no one there. I look up and down the street for a tall, black-haired man, but Logan is nowhere to be seen.
Broderick must have seen my odd behavior, because he leans over and asks, “Are you okay?”
I answer without thought. “Yeah.”
But as I turn back in my seat I can’t help but wonder if I’m starting to hear voices in my head. Am I going to be one of those people who walks down the street talking to the voices only I can hear? A grin touches my lips at the thought, because I wouldn’t mind that at all as long as the voice I am talking to is Logan’s.
Once the parade is over, the other activities will start, including the food fight. Josh helps me up and we start over to George’s stand and, as it was last year, there’s a line for swordfish funnel cakes.
“So you don’t eat it?” Rory is clearly mystified by this entire day and I can’t blame him. Seeing it through his eyes, I’m surprised he hasn’t called for the paddy wagon.
“It was meant to be eaten but . . . swordfish funnel cake. Enough said,” I answer.
A noticeable shudder goes through him. “Agreed.”
“Saffron,” George calls. “You don’t need to wait in line. Come on up here, I’ve got your stash.”
I’m a bit of a celebrity on this day. Maybe I could get Chastity to agree to a coronation ceremony with a crown and everything.
Seeing her working her way through the crowd, I call, “Chastity, what are the chances I can be queen for the day?”
I know she heard me. She looks right at me, but instead of answering, she rolls her eyes.
“I’m guessing that’s a no?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Josh says, which earns him my mad face.
“Like you wouldn’t want to wear a crown.”
“I’ll just take yours. You’re too fat now to catch me.”
“Josh!” Gwen’s trying for outraged but giggles instead.
George hands me a few cakes before passing the bucket to Tommy.
“These are heavier this year,” I say, since I’m already envisioning nailing Josh after that fat comment.
“Yep, we should get some serious distance.”
“When are you opening the factory? An assembly line for the mighty swordfish?”
“It’s not far from that, had to use the kitchen in Town Hall in addition to my own to make all these. Got help from some of the local kids as well. Have you seen the number of people here?”
I hadn’t really noticed, but it’s true, the crowd is unusually large.
“You stumbled onto a success, Saffron. Who doesn’t love a good food fight?”
“With no cleanup,” I add.
“Even better.”
What a picture we must make. Main Street is packed—everyone holding funnel cakes—as Chastity stands on a small podium. All eyes are on the clock tower of Town Hall. As soon as the large arm strikes noon, insanity erupts. Cakes are just flying everywhere. I’m pregnant so no one is targeting me, but that doesn’t keep me from nailing my friends. Got some good hits in too. I’m just reaching for another cake, since I’ve got a clear shot of Broderick’s back, when I get nailed in the side of the face.
“What the . . .” My hand tightens on the cake, since I’m loaded and ready. Changing my target from Broderick, I scan the crowd for my attacker. He’s standing about thirty feet from me. Dressed in faded jeans and flannel, he has longer hair. His face is completely covered in whiskers, but it’s the brilliant green eyes soaking up the sight of me that has the cake slipping from my numb fingers. He starts toward me, his long stride eating the distance between us. I can’t move, my body refuses to respond, as I watch Logan moving through the crowd, coming for me. He stops so close our bodies are almost touching, our eyes locked.
Every emotion I’ve felt since his death explodes in me and my reaction is raw and honest: I slap him hard across the face, and then I throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his neck to breathe him in. His arms feel like steel bands when they close around me and hold me close. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”
My mouth covers his; desperate, I suck his tongue into my mouth, needing him closer. My tears blend with his, the saltiness flavoring the kiss. His lips move, brushing over my cheeks, my eyes, my nose, before he buries his face in my neck. I can’t believe I’m feeling his body again, tasting him, seeing him. It all proves too much for me when my tears turn to sobs as the reality of what is happening hits me.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispers as he pulls me even closer, but I can’t stop the torrent of tears. “I love you so goddamn much, Saffron.”
I can’t speak yet, so I tighten my hold on him. He rubs my back, soothingly, as he whispers to me how much he loves me, how much he missed me, how much he wants to make love to me, and soon my sobs start to subside because he is really here. I look into the eyes that have haunted my dreams just as he asks, “Can you forgive me?”
“You’re alive. I can forgive you anything.”
He holds me to him again and, after a very long time, he steps back, and I see that I’m not the only one crying. His eyes stay on mine, but his hand is on my stomach. “I do believe you have to marry me now,” he says with wonder and love.
And just like that he makes me laugh, but not for long, since I’m still so overwhelmed. “You came back to me on our anniversary.”
“I fell in love with you during the first Swordfish Festival, so it only seemed right that I return to you during this one.” He cradles my head and kisses me before pulling his mouth from mine. “Did you figure it out?”
“Yes. Everyone close knows.”
His lips brush against my ear. “I have some explaining to do, possibly groveling, all of which I am prepared to do for you and my family, but after that I need to make love to you or I’m going to go mad.”
“I really, really want that too.”
He reaches for my hand. “Then let the groveling begin.”
Much later that night Logan and I lie cuddled together, sated and exhausted, but even now his touch is making me want him again. My fingers brush over his new scar, one that goes from just under his left arm to his thigh. It’s a big, ugly scar—a wound that nearly gutted him. Sitting up, I press my lips to it, little kisses over every inch. I turn my attention to his face to see him watching me with an endearing little smile curving his lips.
I say, “Explain yourself.”
“After I called off the engagement, I wanted to kill David. When I realized who was behind the attacks, I visited the Martinellis shortly before I visited you in New York, and when I saw that their niece was Elise, I swear I almost killed her on the spot. She had been right here under our noses the whole fucking time and I didn’t know. Worse, I left you with her still here.”
He’s working himself up into a fit. Straddling him, I massage his shoulders, hoping to calm him. “It’s over, Logan.”
His hands come to rest on my hips, the anger fading. “It was after that visit I began to seriously contemplate the mechanics of killing David, because she was so unstable. Depending on her to follow through on what we discussed was too much of a leap of faith for me to take.”
“And then there was the fire,” I say.
“Yes, proving that I was right, that she was never going to stop. She followed me that weekend, and waited for a chance to get to you. Someone capable of that is capable of anything. I had already contacted Dean to set my affairs in order, and I hired a person I had worked with before and trusted to keep my secret to assist me with the logistics of my plan. I thought I’d spend the months after moving around with Dirk’s crew, but then the accident didn’t go completely as I planned. The cold water slowed the bleeding, but I took months to heal and then the Swordfish Festival was looming and it seemed the perfect time to come back to you.”
He sat up, his gaze searching mine. “I didn’t tell you because it needed to be real. Your mourning had to be real for people to believe that David was really, truly dead.” He touches my cheek as his eyes fill with tears. “I saw the airing of my funeral; I saw you standing up there being so brave and telling half of Manhattan to go fuck themselves. I fell in love with you all over again. When I found out you were pregnant, I sent the swordfish because I needed you to know I was coming home. The idea that you believed you’d be raising our baby alone . . . I couldn’t stand it.”
“David’s dead, so what will you do about your art?”
“I wanted to shift my focus to painting anyway, so I will do so under the name Dupree, if that is okay with you.”
“I think Frank would like that quite a lot, actually. You know that Elise is dead?”
“Yes.”
“The figure of the swordfish, I gave it to her. I buried it at her grave. I thought she should have a piece of you.”
“And there is that passion I love so much about you.”
His hands move to my stomach.
“I can’t say I condone what you did, In fact, what you did was insane.”
His expression turns somber, but there’s conviction behind his words. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Like icy fingers, fear tingles down my spine thinking about how close he came to dying. He’s home, he’s alive, so I force those thoughts out of my head.
Knowing that now we can get lost in the woodwork, that you can just be Logan, I am thrilled with the results of your efforts. That being said, any future insane ideas you get, please talk to me first. Even minutes away from you is simply too long and we have this one to think of now.”
“Agreed.” He leans over and presses a kiss on my belly and gets a kick in the face. His laugh is music to my ears. He pushes me back on the bed and there is nothing but love looking at me. “I have eight months of separation to make up to you.”
I grin as I pull my hands through his hair. “And I am going to let you.”
Logan and I got married, right on the beach, with only our family and friends present. I couldn’t wear my dress, as Josh had predicted, but I didn’t want to part with it either, so it’s wrapped and stored in my closet. Maybe one day, someone will get to wear it. Instead I wore a tent, well, not really a tent, but pretty close. Tommy walked me down the aisle, Gwen was my matron of honor, and Broderick was Logan’s best man. In the end I didn’t want all the pomp and circumstance, I just wanted his ring on my finger and mine on his. We did write our own vows; they’re framed and on the wall and every day I read them, remembering that beautiful day.
I, Logan, take you, Saffron, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, to drizzle caramel sauce on, to walk along the beach and to chase after Reaper with, to hold you when you cry, and to have your back when you attack your friends with pantry items. I’ll protect, love, and cherish you and only you for as long as I live.
I, Saffron, take you, Logan, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, to cuddle with in our pj’s and veg out, to skinny-dip with in the bay, to drive your car, to soothe you when you’re angry, and to tease you because I can. To love you and only for as long as I live.
Logan painted a mural in the nursery—one that features our favorite aquatic animal, the swordfish. As a wedding gift, I gave Logan the painting I had done of Harrington Bay and his reaction to it was as if I had given him some rare, priceless treasure. He has it displayed proudly in the living room with one of those museum lights hanging over it. When I saw him standing in front of it once, I asked him why he loved it so and he said because I painted it. When he looks at it, he thinks of me.
About a month after Logan returned to me, he presented me with a gift; it was another swordfish like the one I left with Elise, but this one came as one of the pieces of a chess set and each piece was specific to us. The board is made from white oak and rosewood and the figures include a VW bug, Reaper, a limo, an Alien, a Predator, a yeti, a butter knife, and a lobster trap. I love it and have it sitting next to Frank’s and, unlike Frank, Logan succeeded in teaching me the game. Just thinking about some of his teaching methods makes me blush.
I’m a few days past my due date as Logan and I sit at said chess set. I’m uncomfortable and really ready for this baby to come. Reaper is vacationing with Gwen and family and, since the kids want a dog, I’m thinking a new puppy is in their future. I look at Logan as I think about the weeks since he’s returned. He’s shaved again. He didn’t need to keep the facial hair since one of the benefits of a small town is that we know how to keep a secret, especially for one of our own. Once the town realized he was alive and home, the citizens all banded together to keep the secret safe, and as a community we’re all closer because of it.
Josh and Derek tied the knot in a private ceremony and are now talking about adoption. Tommy started dating Sarah from the bar. I am apparently not that observant to pick up on the sexual tension in my workplace. Gwen knows she’s having a girl and she and Mitch decided on the name Sabrina Michelle. Rory and Briana will be returning to Scotland after the baby is born and Dante to New York, but Broderick has moved to the lighthouse permanently. He has no desire to be more than walking distance from his nephew. We grew very close, he and I, and it’s nice having a big brother, of sorts, who’s always watching my back.
Dupree House is a success, so much so that the board is thinking about opening several more in the surrounding areas. I want to believe that Frank and Maggie are smiling down at us about that.
We set up the third bedroom as a studio for Logan, but he hasn’t spent much time in there since we’re still wanting to see each other every second of every day. Maybe in a few months, years, we’ll be able to handle not being in the same room.
I realize that while I’m reflecting, Logan is looking right at me and smiling that smile.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“How very much I love you.”
“That, my dearest Saffron, is something I understand completely. How are you feeling?”
“Huge.”
“You look beautiful.”
“I look like Jabba the Hutt.”
He rolls his eyes at me as he starts around the table to help me out of my chair. “You’re gorgeous,” he says as he places his hands on my stomach. “And this makes you even more so. In fact, I think I would like to see you this way three or four more times.”
I’m incredulous and hot all at once. “Let me have this one first.”
“If I must.” He lowers his head and kisses me and that’s when I feel the water running down my legs. I jerk away.
“What’s wrong?”
“My water just broke.”
“What?” He just stands there with a slightly terrified look on his face.
“Logan?”
His voice is barely over a whisper. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he means and, when I do, I frame his face with my hands.
“Never, Logan. It’s only childbirth; people do it all the time. Besides, I’ve only just gotten you back. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and that is a very long, long life sentence.”
He turns his head and presses a kiss in my palm before those eyes find mine again. “I’m going to hold you to that, wife.”
“Count on it, husband.”
And then he smiles that smile again. “I better get you to the clinic, brat.” He wraps his strong arm around me and leads me to the door where he reaches for the bag that has been packed for weeks. He settles me into the car, pulling on my seat belt and latching it, before kneeling down next to me and pressing his lips to mine.
“I want you to know that as much as I am going to love this child and any other children we create together, you will always be the holder of my heart and the keeper of my soul.”
And with those beautiful words I start crying again. He closes the door and slides across the hood to climb behind the wheel. As we start down the street, his hand reaches over to wrap around mine and he squeezes it as a smile spreads over his face. I smile back and then the contractions start.