Logan joined her in the hallway.
“Hey there,” he said, coming to stand in front of her. “I really thought they would give you another chance.”
“They care about their boys.” She clutched the strap of her backpack, clinging to it with both hands as if for support. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.” She gave him a careful smile. “I appreciated that.”
Logan shifted closer then, to her surprise, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “When I watched you in the gym the other night, you were tearing around that floor like it was yours. Like you owned it. I remember watching you play the same way. I’m pretty sure that this Berube guy doesn’t play with the same passion—wouldn’t be able to instill that same passion in those boys.”
Sarah smiled at his assessment and affirmation.
“So, now that you have all this time on your hands,” he said, “I was wondering if you might…come on that sleigh ride I promised you the other day.”
Sarah looked up at him, surprised at the invitation.
He was looking at her, a faint smile teasing the corner of his mouth. The tension that seemed to personify their previous encounters had shifted with his defense of her.
“Was that a promise?” she asked. “I thought you were just being polite.”
Had she really injected that flirty tone in her voice? Added a teasing smile?
“Yeah. It was.”
Then his hand came up and touched her hair, so lightly she might have imagined it. Her heart thrummed with expectation even as one practical part of her mind warned to keep her distance.
Maybe it was the location, their old school, maybe it was the timing—she was feeling vulnerable and he was here. Maybe it was all the kisses they had shared in the past, the many times she had reached for the phone to call him, the unfulfilled anticipations of young love. Maybe it was all that, that made her lean toward him…
The door beside them swung open.
Sarah jumped back and Logan moved aside.
“…here’s hoping things turn around,” she heard as Pete stepped out of the room, followed by the rest of the parents.
Pete paused when he saw Sarah and Logan, then he ducked his head, as if ashamed to meet her eyes, and the rest of the people filed past them, suddenly quiet.
Morris followed them out and, as he glanced from Logan to Sarah, she felt as if she had plunged backward in time.
“You going to be okay, Sarah?” Morris asked, his tone gentle and understanding. “You don’t have to quit.”
Sarah laughed lightly. “Yes. I do. If the parents don’t support me, I lose my effectiveness with the team.” She gave her uncle what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I just lost a well-paying job.”
“That means you’ll have time on your hands.” He waited a beat. “Are you going to be visiting your dad tomorrow?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She should say more. Uncle Morris deserved more than that pithy reply. But other thoughts and feelings were shouting out for attention.
But Logan, who had brushed her tears away, who had, with just a few words, erased most of her reasons for cutting him out of her life—Logan, who had once held her heart, stood beside her. Waiting.
“I have something in the car for you,” her uncle said. “From your aunt.”
Sarah felt suddenly awkward, torn between family obligations and the promise of what might be. She turned to Logan, unsure of what to say.
“I’ll see you around,” Logan said, taking a step backward and giving her an out.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, suddenly not caring about her uncle Morris or what he might think. “About that sleigh ride.”
Logan nodded, a wry smile teasing one corner of his mouth. “You do that.”
Then he turned and left.
Sarah sat in her car, the windows of the Carleton house throwing out oblique rectangles of golden light on the snow.
What was she doing here?
Collecting on a years’ old promise. Getting away from that empty house and the loneliness that echoed through it.
She’d avoided coming here by phoning Janie, but Janie was headed out to do some Christmas shopping for her girls. Sarah politely turned down the invitation to come along. The Westerveld relatives had eschewed buying gifts for some years now, preferring instead to simply get together for a nice dinner and pool together whatever money they might have spent and send it to the missionary family their church supported.
The only person on her gift list was her father, and at the moment she couldn’t wrap her head around buying him anything. So she worked her way down her unofficial visiting list, but her aunts were off to choir practice and Francine was busy and Dodie was tired.
All obstacles for coming here had been neatly removed and here she was. Sitting in a car that was slowly getting colder, trying to work up the nerve to actually walk up to Logan’s house.
Sarah slowly got out of the car, the butterflies in her stomach growing more agitated with each step she took.
Was she being wise?
A sleigh ride with Logan? With a moon hanging fat and full in the sky above her?
The moment of awareness that had trembled between them had stayed with her every waking moment. She and Logan had a history, an unfinished history. Surely they had a right to finish that off properly before she moved on.
They could excise the old ghosts, laugh about it and go on with their lives, unencumbered by the burden of history and unfinished conversations.
Yes. That was a good idea. Finish this off. Closure.
She knocked sharply on the door, then clasped her hands in front of her, shivering a moment with a combination of cold and anticipation.
But Logan wasn’t the one to come to the door. Donna opened it, releasing once again the scents of home. She gave Sarah a cautious smile, then stood aside. “Logan is just finishing supper.”
“I’m sorry…I…” She glanced at her watch, double-checking the time. “He told me to come at seven-thirty.”
“That’s okay. He came home late. Come join us.”
Sarah waved away the invitation. “No. I don’t want to be a bother. I can just wait outside.”
“Mom made apple pie.” Logan came up behind his mother, smiling. “She would be insulted if you sat outside while we ate.”
“Please, do come in,” Donna said, gesturing toward the dining room. “I’d like you to join us.”
“Okay.” Sarah stepped inside and slowly removed her coat, savoring the smell of dinner. Ham, she thought, and maybe potatoes. And that same cinnamon smell interlaced through the comforting aromas of food prepared for a family.
She thought of the slice of cold pizza she had eaten while watching television. College food in her father’s house.
She followed Donna into the kitchen and was immediately enveloped by delicious warmth. She heard a snap and a pop and noticed the woodstove, a fire glowing through its glass doors.
“Have a seat.” Donna pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll get you a plate.”
“Hey, Miss Westerveld.” Billy threw her a quick glance, then dove back into the book he was reading while he ate.
“How is the basketball coach working out for you guys?” she asked.