Rush (Roam Series, Book Four) Page 11

  “Wait!”

  We both turned to Eva, watching her bite her stubborn lip. Finally, she took a bossy step toward Logan. “Need something, Red?” He plunked a straw into his glass.

  The nickname, on a normal day, would have ruffled her feathers. Instead, she moved to his side.

  “Don’t the chocolate chips get stuck in the straw?” She demanded, haughty.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Easy fix.”

  “How?”

  He moved his mouth to the straw and blew through tube, sending bubbles into the milk that made the chocolate chips swirl.

  She giggled, reaching for the bag. “I want some!”

  “What do you say?” I urged.

  “Please, Logan?”

  “Sure.” He winked at me, moving back to the counter. “So, tell me about yourself, Eva.”

  She popped a chocolate chip into her mouth, ignoring me completely. “I’m a princess and a dancer. And a veterinarian. And an artist. And im-mor-tal.”

  At her last admission, he lifted his eyes to mine in surprise. “Sounds like you have a… busy schedule.” He returned to the table with a plastic cup of milk and a muffin. “You’re a dancer?”

  “Uh-huh. Like Violet. She teaches me ballet.”

  “I’ll bet she’s a good teacher,” he said softly, and I grinned, moving behind his chair and wrapping my arms around him.

  “Daddy’s a better teacher,” she defended. “When is he coming back? With my mommy?”

  “Tomorrow,” I promised, even though neither of us knew if they’d ever return from this fountain. Or that Troy wouldn’t try to come here. “We’ll call them on FaceTime.”

  “I like you, Logan,” she admitted thoughtfully, taking a small bite of her muffin. “You make Vi smile really big.”

  He covered my hands with his, over his heart. “That’s all I’ll ever want,” he said quietly, tilting his head back to greet my upside-down kiss.

  Eva took another, larger bite, swinging her legs in her chair and grinning our way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  June 15, 2015

  “What is that singing?”

  “It’s morning prayer time here, in Afghanistan.”

  “Daddy said you’re in Ka-bul.”

  “That is a city.”

  “But it’s dinner time here,” Eva argued, her dark eyebrows knitting together as she sorted through his information.

  “I’m eleven and a half hours ahead of you, Red.”

  “So… you’re in the future?”

  I grinned, hugging Eva closer. “Kind of.” Logan smiled at me, brushing his hand over the back of his neck. The Skype connection was choppy, and his responses delayed, but seeing his face was all that mattered.

  “When are you gonna come home and play with me?”

  He grinned. “You’re my calendar girl, remember?”

  I loved that Logan had dubbed Neil Sedaka’s song as theirs; Eva’s current obsession with the oldies had her relating everything to lyrics from the fifties and sixties. She giggled, breaking into song. “You love your calendar girl!”

  “You know I do. What month am I coming?”

  “July!”

  “You’re my firecracker, don’t forget it.”

  “When is this dumb war gonna be over?” She demanded, dropping to her feet to scurry across the living room.

  I sighed, turning back to the screen. “She misses you. I miss you.”

  He touched his fingers to his lips, and then to the screen. “I miss you, Vi.”

  Looking down at the keyboard, I scratched at the Windows sticker near the touch pad. Sighing, I pulled one of the elegant invitations into my fingers.

  Violet Rose Perry

  And

  Logan Robert Rush

  Cordially invite you

  To the beginning of their story…

  “The RSVPs are all in. We’re at about seventy-five.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t be there to help with everything,” he said softly. “I love you.”

  “Love you,” I mouthed, clearing my throat and sitting up as Roam carried Christopher down from the upstairs.

  “Oh, is that Logan?” She hurried to the computer, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Logan, are you okay?”

  “Hey Cam. I’m fine. Your arm okay?”

  “It’s fine. You know it doesn’t last.” She glanced at the coordinates absently. The four-month-old in her arms cooed, and she tilted him into the webcam. “Look at him! He’s seventeen pounds, and he’s finally sleeping through the night-…,”

  “He’s gorgeous,” Logan smiled, waving, and the screen froze and skipped. Finally, the connection returned to normal. “How’s West?”

  “He’s so happy. We’re happy,” she corrected, smiling at me before shifting Christopher in her arms. “I’ll leave you two alone. Bye. Love you!” She waved the baby’s hand at the screen, and Logan waved again.

  I gathered my hair, taking a steadying breath. “You’re really okay? You’re not taking any chances?”

  “I’m okay,” he promised, his dark eyes shining. “I love you, and I’ll be home in two weeks to put that ring on your finger. That is, if you haven’t decided that eternity is too long to spend with my stupid jokes.”

  “Hurry,” I blinked at inevitable tears, swallowing hard and chasing them away with all of my will.

  We said our good-byes, and I closed the laptop screen.

  I had decided to stay with my dad and Roam, helping out with Eva and Christopher while Roam studied and took virtual classes. My mother and Michael were planning on starting a family, so I wanted to give them as much privacy as possible.

  That, and I couldn’t stand to be away from Roam’s coordinates for longer than a day. I wished to God they were mine.

  My wedding was planned for Saturday, July fourth, in Emerald Isle. I was counting the moments until I could watch Logan get off the bus at Camp Lejuene.

  Corporal Rush. I moved to the kitchen to work on dinner, smiling wistfully at the diamond engagement ring on my finger.

  Eva marched into the kitchen and, with an animated groan, pulled her apron from its hook by the basement door. Her red curls clashed adorably with the hot-pink material as she dragged her stepstool to the counter. “We’re always in this kitchen. I wish we had servants.”

  I choked back a laugh, staring at my five-year-old sister. “Servants?”

  “When I grow up, I’m having fifty servants. To brush my hair, to walk Thomas Jefferson, and to clean my room.”

  At the mention of his name, the beagle puppy came running into the kitchen to beg. “Go lay down, Thomas!” The dog whined, turning dejectedly toward the living room. “You’ll only need two to walk that dog and clean your room, but you’ll need the other forty-eight to brush all this hair,” I teased, tugging at a curl.

  “It’s a lot of work to be this beautiful,” she admitted, her lisp slipping through her missing front tooth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You little brat!” I tried to tickle her, but the honking horn in the driveway worked like a magnet to her small legs. She shrieked and ran for the front door, and I watched through the window as West met her at the front door.

  “Daddy!”

  “Eva!” he threw her over his shoulder and marched to the backyard, and I knew he was dangling her over the pool by her giggling screams.

  The family they had become made me long for Logan even more. I waited for the pot of water to boil on the stove, remembering our last conversation during his leave over Christmas as we watched Eva tear into her presents. West had recorded every moment of her excitement.

  “Let’s have a baby tomorrow,” Logan teased, cuddling next to me on the couch as Eva opened the ballet dancer music box he’d picked out for her.

  I smiled up at him, so happy to be in his arms. “Maybe,” I promised.

  He brought the subject up again while we were choosing centerpieces for the tables at the reception.

  “I want to have childr
en, Violet. I’m getting the feeling that you don’t.”

  “They’ll live forever. I can’t make that choice for someone, Logan, and neither can you.”

  The conversation turned into the first full-blown argument we’d ever had. He started making sarcastic jibes, but for every cutting comment he had, I went ahead and hit below the belt (as I usually did) and soon we were in a shouting match. Eva had interrupted us, and Logan stalked away, leaving the fight unfinished.

  That night, we had the best make-up sex ever, but neither one of us brought the subject up again.

  When his leave was over, I began thinking about my body and what it was capable of doing. Every injury healed within minutes, and sex with Logan was still painful- every time. Am I healing- there? Freaking out, I called a doctor that West promised would not ask any questions, and scheduled an appointment right after Christmas.

  She confirmed what I still couldn’t bring myself to tell Logan.

  I healed every time we made love… and my immortal body could never carry children.

  “But… Roam was immortal in the beginning of her pregnancy with Christopher… she…,” I had protested, staring helplessly at the doctor.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rush.”

  I had spent the day teetering between relief and grief, sharing the information only with my mom. She held me as I cried, assuring me that I was right. Was it fair to bring an immortal child into a mortal world? Probably not.

  And then there was my sister.

  Someday, Eva would realize that her parents and her brother would all grow older and die- without her.

  And she is like me- she can never have children.

  West burst through the back door, setting Eva to her feet and letting her take off for the stairs. Thomas Jefferson followed her, his signature bark-howl resounding through the house. “Hey, Vi. Smells good.”

  “Oh yeah? This boiling pot of water smells good?” I rolled my eyes, and he grinned.

  “Anything smells better than the bag of diapers roasting on the back porch.”

  “Oh! Shit,” I moved toward the door, but he caught me, laughing.

  “Stop- I took it to the dumpster, it’s fine. I was joking. That’s my job, not yours.”

  “I put it in the back so Thomas Jefferson would stay out of it, and then Logan Skyped in, and…,”

  “How is he?” West asked, tugging at his tie. He was teaching a few summer history courses at the local community college, and was gone for most of the day every Monday and Wednesday. I tried not to eavesdrop or ask about their personal lives, but wondered why he was even teaching if he had a stash of money that seemed in never ending supply. My question was answered one evening when Roam asked about his class, and he lit up, explaining what subject he was on and the assignments he was giving.

  I concluded that he just loved to teach.

  Moving to the thermostat to adjust the air conditioner, he shrugged off his suit jacket. I automatically reached for my sweater on the back of the couch.

  “He’s… there. I can’t wait for him to come home.”

  My father pulled me into his arms, and I sighed, accepting his hug.

  I remembered the January night Logan called to tell me that he’d died for the first time, listening to him describe the shock and pain of the mortar attack. I hung up and ran to pound on my father’s bedroom door. Before I could lift my knuckles to the wood, he opened the door, gathering me into his arms.

  He had already known what happened; Roam’s coordinates had disappeared and reappeared on her arm.

  “He’s going to live, every time, Vi-…,”

  “Not if they blow him to fucking bits,” I had followed him down the stairs to the living room, pressing my face into my hands. He had smoothed my hair lovingly. “And what if someone suspects? They’ll put him in a lab or something and dissect him to figure out-…,”

  “War is confusing- the chaos, injury… Logan is smart, and he will protect himself and his immortality.”

  As we settled down for dinner together (West insisted that we all eat together, every single night), I moved the spaghetti around on my plate and watched Roam cut Eva’s salad into smaller pieces. West held Christopher in his arms, checking the tick mark on the bottle to calculate how many ounces the baby had and if he needed to be burped. He was talking about going to medical school, and Roam was asking a thousand questions while Eva secretly slipped Thomas Jefferson pieces of bread under the table.

  I don’t belong here. I cleared my throat and gathered my plate and glass of iced tea, drawing all of their attentions.

  “Vi?”

  “I’ll be right outside,” I forced a smile, moving toward the patio. “I just need to clear my mind.”

  I finished my dinner in the sunlit patio, watching the birds above the trees just off the back yard in the woods. The sun began to lower in the sky when I finally heard the back door open.

  Turning toward Roam, I lifted my eyes apologetically. “I hope Dad wasn’t offended.”

  “Of course he wasn’t.” She smiled, settling into a patio chair and tucking her knees under her chin. She looked younger than almost twenty, mostly because of those wide, innocent eyes. Even in the castle, when I saw her covered in that green face paint and tortured beyond my worst imagination, her familiar eyes convinced me that she was still inside there- somewhere.

  “Do you need some help getting Eva to bed?”

  “No,” she smiled again, drawing her finger over her inner forearm. The coordinates had changed the day Christopher was born, and then not again since. “Violet, do you want to be here?”

  I shrugged, turning back to the pool and patio. “I love you all. But I feel like… I’m out of place.”

  Her piteous expression made me grind my teeth together. “Would it be okay if West and I took the kids down to the beach tomorrow, and you followed in two weeks?”

  Have the whole house to myself for two entire weeks? “Yes! I could bring Thomas with me next Friday-…,”

  “No, no, my dad is keeping him. I just want you to have some time. Only if you want that.”

  I nodded, focused on the melting ice cube in my glass. “I need that, Roam.”

  “I thought so.” She nodded once, efficiently, and dropped her knees into a cross-legged position. “I want you to know… that when we were in the castle,” she took three slow, steadying breaths, and I stiffened, worried she’d faint. “Logan talked about you all the time. He missed you so much. Even when things were bad, and we didn’t know if we’d get out...,” her voice trailed off as West stepped out onto the patio. He leaned down to wrap his arms around her.

  “Thank you for that,” I acknowledged, knowing how difficult it was for her to talk about the castle.

  “They’re both sleeping,” he said, and Roam brushed at a tear and gave him a stern look.

  “Please tell me you read her Goldilocks.”

  “I gave her the choice between Goldilocks and Tactical Perimeter Defense.”

  “I wonder which one she picked,” she rolled her eyes, grinning helplessly at him.

  I leaned down to hug them both. “Thanks. Both of you. I’ll take care of the house.”

  “I booked us a flight for tomorrow morning.” West winked at me, and I nodded.

  “Be safe,” I added, smiling at my father.

  They were gone before I pulled myself out of bed the following morning. Even the dog had been dropped off in Madison with Mr. Camden. I contemplated calling my mother, and then decided instead to enjoy the peace and quiet with a cup of coffee on the patio.

  The June sun had yet to warm the air, and I tucked the long, white sweater around my shorts and cami pajama set before settling into the chair. The picturesque backyard, the stillness of the morning, and the silence in the house all felt refreshing after what seemed like non-stop chaos over the past few weeks. All that’s missing right now is Logan.

  I thought again for a moment about going back to college, but then immediately pushed the memory o
f homework and paper after paper out of my mind. No thanks.

  Halfway through my coffee, the doorbell rang.

  Grumbling, I climbed to my feet again. It was a Tuesday, but far too early for the mail. UPS maybe? I hurried through the house at the second bell, fully prepared to have major attitude with whoever was standing on the porch.

  Peering through the window, I narrowed my eyes. A man stood with his back to the door, hands tucked into his pockets of his beige cargo shorts. His broad shoulders and dark hair were clear in the morning light, and as he turned slightly, his eyes were masked by sunglasses.

  “Can I help you?” I called through the glass.

  He smiled, removing his sunglasses. I gripped the handle and held my breath, my heart quickening and skipping beats as I fumbled for the lock. Throwing open the door, I reached for him, searching his blue eyes while tracing his shaven jaw.

  “Logan?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Logan of 1955 stood before me, slightly younger and so surreal on West’s front porch. He gently caught my wrists in his hands, one eyebrow lifting.

  Startled, I took a step backwards, pulling my hands away and finally gathering my senses. This can’t be Logan! Logan is in Afghanistan! What in the hell is wrong with you?

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” the stranger confirmed, noticing my sudden change in demeanor. “Cole Mathison.” He extended his hand, and I took another step backward. His accent was southern, his drawl slowing his words down measurably.

  “I… I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

  “Right. Logan,” he repeated. “A friend of yours?”

  “My fiancé.”

  “You thought I… was your fiancé?”

  This conversation is way too personal, and you have no idea who this is. Run.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Mathison?”

  I stepped back into the doorway, and he took a non-threatening step back.

  “I’m looking for someone, Miss…?”

  “Who are you looking for?” I can close this door and turn the deadbolt while he’s talking- maybe he won’t have time to attack me-…