“You didn’t want to wait?”
“I couldn’t anymore.” She bit her lip to stop the faint tremble in her voice then quickly took his coat.
He either didn’t notice her wobbly emotions or was kind enough to disregard them. Instead he looked around, a frown pinching his eyebrows together.
“Where’s your Christmas decorations?”
“Not you, too.” She hung his coat in the hallway closet, right beside one of her father’s.
“What do you mean?”
“My uncle Ted stopped by. Said the same thing.”
Logan shook his head as he glanced around the house. “You don’t have one twinkly light or piece of tinsel up.” He toed his boots off then took a few steps, looking into the living room. “Not even a tree?”
“I’m out of practice.” Sarah shrugged. “Haven’t been much for Christmas in the past few years. But I guess it could use some decorations. But just not now. I’ve got other things going.”
“Fair enough.” He gave her a concerned look. “Well, I came to help you. Lead the way.”
As Logan followed Sarah up the carpeted stairs, her mind returned to a time when having him in her house seemed an improbable dream. Yet, here he was.
He followed her into the room, his presence immediately banishing the ghosts, the memories and the emptiness. “Where do I start?”
“You can put those clothes in bags while I finish up in the closet.”
As they worked, his practical attitude reduced the memories to items that needed to be dealt with, which helped keep her from feeling overwhelmed.
Half an hour later, five green garbage bags perched in the center of the room. Four held clothes destined for the thrift store in town and the fifth was stuffed with old papers and other trash. Sarah had arranged some mementos of her sister on a now-tidy desk. A few pictures of Marilee and Sarah, a figurine their father had given each of the girls, an award, and an assortment of the precious few books Marilee liked reading.
In spite of Marilee’s constant mocking of people who kept diaries, Sarah had hoped she might stumble upon a book with some of Marilee’s recorded thoughts. But other than Marilee’s obligatory journals for school that Sarah had saved, nothing.
“I’ll take these downstairs,” Logan said, picking up the bags.
As Logan hauled out the bags Sarah went through her sister’s desk. She found a cardboard box holding some jewelry. Inside, nestled in the tangle of necklaces, earrings and paper clips lay a friendship bracelet. Alicia Mays, Marilee’s best friend, had been teaching Marilee how to make them. Sarah tucked it in her pocket. Maybe Alicia would appreciate getting it back.
She experienced a momentary letdown as the last drawer revealed only a stash of forbidden teen style magazines. She put these in another bag.
Sarah pushed herself to her feet, turning a slow circle, letting the change settle. Stripped of Marilee’s essence, the room suddenly looked sterile. Cold. A sliver of regret lanced her as she wondered about her father’s reaction to this. Would he even be coming home to see what she had done?
Sarah pushed that thought aside. She couldn’t dwell on the idea that her father might not improve enough to live on his own. Because if he didn’t, she would have to stay around long enough to make a decision about his care. To make plans that meant staying here.
Could she? Should she?
Logan came back upstairs and together they finished cleaning out the desk. When they were done, Sarah gave the room one last look, then felt the living warmth of Logan’s hand on her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Marilee,” she whispered, closing the door. She paused a moment, as if waiting for an echo of farewell.
Then she and Logan left.
Chapter Fourteen
He shouldn’t feel this nervous. Coming to the basketball game with Sarah had been his idea. But now that they were here, he thought of her aunt Tilly, and cousin Ethan, and Aunt Dot, and Uncle Morris and who-knows-what other Westervelds that might want to attend the game and maybe have negative thoughts about them being together.
He glanced over at Sarah, surprised when she took his hand. Her smile gave him the encouragement he needed.
“So you still okay with this?” he asked.
“It will be interesting to watch the game from a spectator’s point of view. And to wonder if he can manage those boys better than me.”
The boys were warming up, basketballs bouncing, flying, shouts of support echoing in the gym as Logan and Sarah walked, hand in hand along the bleachers. Logan clutched her hand just a bit tighter as they passed the players’ bench. Alton Berube glanced up at Sarah and Logan as they passed by. His smile grew huge.
“Hey, Sarah. Did you get my message?” he called out.
“No.” Sarah glanced at Logan who shrugged. He had no idea what that was all about.
“I need to talk to you. The boys said they wanted to try some play called Pop-Tart? I can’t find it in the playbook.”
“I made it up and didn’t write it down, I guess.”
“Could you go over it with me?”
“Now?”
“Or when you have time.” Alton shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. “Unless it’s confidential. I mean, I understand.”
“I’ll go over it with you after the game.”
“Good. Good.” He smiled at her, relief etched all over his face. “From what they told me it sounds like it could be effective.”
Logan glanced around as Sarah talked with Alton. His eyes ticked over the Westerveld family, taking over the bleachers in one corner of the gym. They were watching him and Sarah.
He felt a flicker of despair. They weren’t going away. They were as much a part of Millars Crossing as the land and the river that bent it. Did he really think he and Sarah stood a chance?
One day at a time, he reminded himself. He and Sarah were simply finishing what they had started all those years ago. Yet as he glanced over at her, he knew, for himself, that she had become even more important to him now than she had been back then.
She comes with so much stuff. Their history. Her family.
Her father.
Logan’s resolve faltered.
Tilly’s phone call was a vivid reminder that Sarah’s relationship with her father would still affect their own relationship.
He wasn’t sure where things were going, wasn’t even sure what Sarah had planned. Though he had fought it initially, lately it seemed he and Sarah had effortlessly slid into a newer, better place. But what he had created in his head had been a momentary bubble of refuge.
Sooner or later life was going to intrude. Her father. His father.
“Maybe I’ll stop by practice on Tuesday,” Sarah said to Alton. She glanced Logan’s way and gave him a radiant smile as she took his hand. “Sorry. Alton just needed some advice.”
“Of course he did.” He smiled as he squeezed her hand, then glanced around the gym, affecting a nonchalant air. “Where should we sit?”
“How about your usual spot? Close enough to the players’ bench that the coach can see you glowering at her, I mean him, yet far enough away that she, I mean he, can’t throw a basketball at you.”
Her teasing smile lifted his heart, and he lifted one eyebrow in response. “Very funny.”