Trusting Tomorrow Page 3

  “I’ve always believed things worked out the way they were supposed to for both of us, Jack.” Logan stood and leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms folded across her chest. “I was so proud of all the recruiters going to see your high school games, the friends I had at college were sick of hearing about you. You’re my little brother, Jack. There’s nothing that’ll ever change that. I love you, and if your career is over, we’ll figure things out together if it’s what you want.”

  “If? Don’t you mean when?”

  “If it’s over now or when it’s over six or eight years down the road, whatever.” Logan shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited for him to look at her. “You know I’ll always be here for you.”

  “You’re the only family I have left, Logan. I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

  Logan fought back tears. After struggling to not look away from him, she forced a smile.

  “I’ve got work to do,” she said as she pushed away from the counter and grabbed the coat she’d draped over the back of the chair.

  “Logan?” He was looking down at his hands when she turned to look at him. “Are you really doing the embalming yourself? Why don’t you have Ernie do it?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I just don’t understand how you can do it. I mean, he’s our father.”

  “Exactly. He’s our father. How can I not do it?”

  She really hoped he could appreciate her reasons for handling the embalming on her own. Their father had done it for their mother, and while she hadn’t truly understood it then, she did now. It was her responsibility to take care of him, and there was no way in hell she was going to let anyone else do it. Especially someone from another funeral home in another town. She knew her father would never want that.

  *

  Six hours later, her father lay on the table, a white sheet covering everything but his head, and Logan thought for a moment how he looked as if he were simply sleeping. He’d look even better after the makeup was applied. The embalming was done, she’d washed the body and styled his hair the way he’d had it for the past twenty years, and he was finally ready to be dressed. That part she would leave to her apprentice and makeup artist, Billy Best.

  Ray and Missy had been less than thrilled when their only son made the decision to go into mortuary science, but the kid was good, and Logan and her father had been grateful to have him around. There wasn’t a lot of need for their services in Oakville itself, but Swift Funeral Home had been around for over a hundred years, and they’d built a reputation good enough to bring in business from miles around.

  “You ready for me yet?” Billy asked as he stuck his head in and looked at her.

  “Yeah,” she said. She removed her gown and gloves, which she tossed into the medical waste basket by the desk, then went to the sink to wash her hands as Billy grabbed the clothes she’d brought and started to dress him. Logan wanted to leave. She didn’t think she could stand to watch Billy working on her father. She’d almost reached the door when Billy spoke again.

  “How’s…” He paused, and Logan turned to face him. “Who’s the nurse in Erie you see once in a while?”

  “Gretchen?” Logan asked. She’d often wondered if Billy was gay, but he’d never indicated one way or the other, and Logan didn’t think it was her place to come right out and ask. He’d never mentioned a girlfriend—or a boyfriend, for that matter. But Logan thought his fascination with her private life was a bit strange.

  “I don’t know why I can never remember her name.” He chuckled. “Have you seen her lately?”

  “No, I haven’t, Billy. She wanted more from me than I was willing to give, and I told her we couldn’t see each other anymore.”

  Even though she didn’t want to, she felt compelled to watch as Billy began dressing her father. She’d known Billy since they were kids, and he and Jack had been best friends for years. She knew this couldn’t be easy for Billy either, but he had a way of being able to completely block out the person he was working on. Logan could usually do it too, but she hadn’t been able to accomplish it this time.

  “Are you ever going to settle down?” Billy asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. “You know your dad was always hoping you’d find a nice girl to spend your life with.”

  “Billy, I’ve seen way too much death in my lifetime. I’ve seen what it does to the people left behind—the heartache, the devastation, and the emptiness. I also saw it in my dad when my mother died. I don’t ever want to experience a loss so all consuming. I’m quite content with my life exactly as it is.”

  Billy looked at her with an expression that told her he thought she was full of shit. It was the same way her father looked at her whenever they’d talk about her lack of a girlfriend. But she didn’t care what anyone thought. It was her life, and after seeing how her mother’s death came so close to completely destroying her father, she had no desire to ever live through something like it herself. Just the thought of it scared her senseless. What was the old saying?

  It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

  Bullshit.

  Logan never wanted to fall in love, and she’d be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life alone. That’s exactly how she’d lived her life up to now, and how she’d continue to live it forevermore.

  *

  It was almost seven when she got back to the house, and she was surprised to find Jack asleep on the couch, the TV blaring in front of him. She shook her head at the fast food bag on the floor, and the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. The Cleveland Browns were playing the Cincinnati Bengals on Thursday Night Football.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” She pushed on his shoulder, and he opened one eye before covering his head and groaning.

  “Leave me alone,” he said, his voice nothing short of a whine. “I want to sleep until Christmas.”

  “Christmas is over a month away, dude.”

  He put his hands behind his head and smiled up at her.

  “Did you really just call me dude?”

  “I did.” She laughed and picked up his trash to take it to the kitchen. “I guess I’ve been spending too much time with Billy.”

  “Billy Best?” Jack sat up quickly and winced. Logan dropped the bag and went to sit next to him on the couch.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I just shouldn’t sit up so fast. My head doesn’t seem to like sudden movements anymore.” He opened one eye and glanced at the television before wincing again. “Fuck. They can’t do shit without me in the lineup. The Browns will never make it to the Super Bowl again.”

  “This from the man who says no one will remember him in five years. Sounds like your ego is still very much intact.”

  “What can I say?”

  Logan knew the impending news about his injury was bothering him way more than he’d ever admit. She worried he’d be lost if he couldn’t play football, which had been his life for the past fifteen years. She eyed the six beer bottles on the coffee table in front of them.

  “Are you supposed to be drinking this much?”

  “Probably not, but you aren’t my mother. I’m a grown man, Logan. I’ll drink a beer or six if I want to.”

  “I don’t want to have to bury you too, Jack.” Logan fought the emotion welling up inside her at just the thought of it. Her breathing quickened, but she hoped it was the only outward sign of her distress at the visual her thought evoked. Her father’s death had somehow turned her into an emotional ball of mush, and she didn’t like it at all. The sooner she could get back to normal, everyday life the better.

  “Not gonna happen, sis,” he said with an affectionate smile. He draped an arm over her shoulders and hugged her close. “You’re stuck with me for a lot of years yet.”

  “Good.” She went to the kitchen, and when she came back with a beer, Jack wasn’t on the couch anymore and the Browns were losing by two touchdowns with less than five minutes to play. Sh
e sighed and went out to the front porch. A pizza delivery car pulled up to the curb as she sat on one of the two chairs her father had put out there for them to sit in on warm summer nights. It was anything but warm now, being only a week away from Thanksgiving. The porch light next door went on as the pizza guy went up the walk.

  “That’ll be twenty-three dollars, ma’am,” the driver said. Logan couldn’t see whether it was Peggy or Brooke who was at the door, but she hoped it was Peggy. She really didn’t want to have to make small talk with Brooke. For some reason, the woman made her nervous, and that was so not like her.

  “Keep the change.” Brooke’s cheery voice sliced through the cool night air. “You can leave the sodas on the porch and I’ll come right back for them.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the young man said as he tipped his ball cap and returned to his car.

  Logan contemplated going back inside, but just as Brooke was coming back for the sodas, Jack emerged from the house.

  “Good evening,” he said to Brooke, who jumped as if she’d been electrocuted.

  “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.”

  “Why?” Logan said. “You can’t see his face without our porch light on.”

  “Bitch,” Jack said with a laugh.

  “Bastard.”

  “Do you two always call each other names?”

  “I take it you don’t have any siblings.” After flipping on their porch light, Jack sat in the chair next to Logan and put his feet up on the railing in front of him. “Which of course is my way of saying yes, we do always call each other names.”

  “No, I’m an only child.” Brooke glanced back through the storm door into the house and then back at Logan and Jack. “Listen, I ordered a pizza because my grandfather insisted on it for dinner, but now he’s fallen asleep and Gram doesn’t want to wake him. There’s more than enough for the two of us, so if you’d like some, you’re welcome to come over and join us.”

  “Don’t make that offer to him,” Logan said seriously. “He’ll eat the whole damn thing. He thinks he’s still a growing boy.”

  “How about you bring us the leftovers when you’re done eating?” Jack suggested. Logan tried not to smile at the way he ignored her jab.

  “You got it.” She met Logan’s eyes, but Logan looked away quickly before taking a long drink of her beer.

  “You have got to be the densest person I’ve ever known,” Jack said when Brooke had disappeared inside the house.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and your fight or flight mentality. That woman wants you, and you’re going to do everything in your power to ignore the signs.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I just met her for the first time this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, and when Christmas gets here you’ll still be doing all you can to stay away from her, won’t you?” Jack shook his head. “Just stop trying to avoid relationships, Logan.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Logan said quietly. “The man who’s never had a relationship last more than a couple of months.”

  “Which is a couple of months longer than you’ve ever had, if I’m not mistaken. I’m not here to argue with you, all right? I know why you avoid commitment, I really do. I’m just trying to say you might be missing out on something pretty damn great because you’re afraid of losing someone. Just think about it, Logan.”

  She stayed silent as he got up and went back inside the house. Who the hell did he think he was? He didn’t know anything about her or her reasons for wanting to be alone. If he’d seen how utterly devastated their father had been after their mother’s death, maybe he could understand it, but he’d been fifteen and a self-involved teenager at the time. He’d only been able to see his own grief and nobody else’s mattered to him. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Living alone wasn’t so bad if you didn’t think about what you might be missing.

  Chapter Four

  “The viewing is tonight then?” Brooke’s grandmother asked when Logan came by the next morning to tell them what time the funeral would be.

  “Yes, from seven till nine. The funeral will be tomorrow morning at eleven.”

  Brooke could see the pain in Logan’s eyes and wondered what it cost her to hold her emotions in. It certainly couldn’t be healthy. She found herself wishing Logan would let her in enough to help her through it all. But she knew from conversations with John, his daughter would never let anyone close enough to see her anguish.

  “We’ll be there,” her grandmother said. “Is there anything you or Jack need? You know we’ll help out any way we can, dear.”

  “Thank you, but I think we have everything under control, Peggy,” Logan said. She smiled, but to Brooke it looked like an attempt to cover her pain.

  “Is that Logan Swift’s voice I hear?” Brooke’s grandfather called from down the hall. “Somebody come help me with this blasted wheelchair!”

  Brooke excused herself to go and help him. Logan’s eyes met hers and Brooke swore she could feel a jolt of electricity between them. But that was crazy, she thought to herself as she tore her gaze away from Logan. What the hell was going on here? Brooke wasn’t the type to fall for the first good-looking woman she came across. And besides, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t get involved with anyone ever again after what Wendy had done to her. She was beginning to understand the instant attraction to Logan might make that promise harder to keep than she’d thought.

  She hurried down the hallway and helped her grandfather maneuver the chair through the doorway and watched in amused silence as he sped away from her once he was through. If the ALS robbed him of the use of his right hand and arm, he’d never be able to get around on his own. Brooke was worried about how it would crush him, because he was a proud man. It was one thing to need help getting in and out of the chair and the bed, but quite another to rely on someone else for absolutely everything. She couldn’t imagine what that would feel like.

  “Have a seat, Logan. I need to talk to you about something,” he said. Brooke watched in silence and took a seat next to her grandmother. Logan sat on the couch.

  “What’s up, Henry?” Logan asked while he moved his chair so he was in front of her.

  “I’m really sorry about your dad. John was a good man, and he and your mother raised a couple of wonderful kids. You and Jack are like our own grandchildren, but I guess I really don’t need to tell you that do I? If there’s ever anything either of you need, all you have to do is ask, all right?”

  Logan didn’t answer right away and Brooke saw her eyes tearing up when she glanced away. She looked so lost. Brooke had the urge to hold her and assure her everything would be okay, even though there was no possible way she could make the promise.

  “Thank you, Henry,” Logan finally said, her voice strained. “I appreciate it. I really should be getting back home. We’ll see you tonight at the viewing.”

  “Hold on there, dear,” her grandfather said, placing a hand on her knee, which stopped her from standing. “I need to discuss a little business with you.”

  “Come, Brooke,” her grandmother said quietly. “Let’s leave them alone to discuss their business.”

  Brooke did as she was told, but when she turned back to look into the living room, she saw her grandfather handing Logan an envelope overstuffed with papers.

  “What’s going on, Gram?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, dear,” her grandmother said. Brooke watched in silence as her grandmother moved around the kitchen, obviously only pretending to be busy because all she was really doing was rearranging things.

  “What business does he have with Logan?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Then why did you rush me out of the room?”

  Her grandmother stopped and stared out the window. Brooke noticed how her body shook slightly. Her grandmother looked so frail standing there in spite of the fact she was an active, strong woman. She had balked at the i
dea of Brooke moving in to help her take care of her husband, but Brooke’s aunt Marlene had made her see the practicality of it. Brooke walked up behind her and placed a gentle hand on her grandmother’s shoulder.

  “Please, Gram, I’m not a child.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right,” her grandmother finally said. “John Swift owned the funeral home in town. You know that, right?”

  “Of course.” Brooke kept her voice as soft as she could. She had the feeling if she didn’t it might break the spell and her grandmother would stop talking.

  “Logan worked with him. I would imagine she’ll be taking over the business now. It’s been in their family for more than a century.”

  Brooke’s throat tightened as the words sank in. There was only one reason she could think of for an ill, elderly man to have business with an undertaker.

  “He’s pre-planning his funeral?” Brooke managed to ask even though she was having trouble breathing. Her grandmother simply nodded, and Brooke swallowed hard. “Is he dying, Gram? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  Brooke knew it was a ridiculous question because ALS was incurable. Apparently her mind wasn’t quite ready to deal with the fact concerning her own grandfather. Thankfully her grandmother seemed to know what she meant and didn’t take the question as though it was asked by someone who didn’t know the severity of his illness.

  “Good heavens, no, child,” she said, turning to face Brooke. Her smile helped to ease Brooke’s panic. “But then again, we’re all dying, aren’t we? After all, no one expected John Swift to be dead at fifty-five. Your grandfather spoke with him about this a couple years ago. I’d imagine he just wants to make sure Logan’s up to speed on everything they’d talked about.”

  “You’re sure you aren’t keeping anything from me?”

  “Brooke, honey, you know better than I do the ALS is going to take him one day. My hope is it won’t be anytime soon, but we never know what tomorrow’s going to bring, do we? He wants to deal with it all now, so I won’t have to worry about it if his time comes before mine.”