A Promise of Fireflies (45 page)

Sophie looked up at her father. “Daddy, what’s bothering you?”

“What makes you say that,
mia bel figliola
?”

“Abbey has your eyes and I can tell when she’s hiding something. You’re a million miles away.”

“Nonsense.”

“You haven’t been the same since you came back from Colorado.”

Logan’s heart stumbled and though competent on the dance floor he missed a step. “This is your day, Sophie. Celebrate your new life and save your worries about anyone else.” He twirled his daughter under his arm and back around. “Embrace your happiness.”

“I’m extremely happy right now.”

Logan smiled and hugged her tightly.

“But I’d be much happier if you’d find someone too.”

“Sophie, please. Not today.”

“You said yourself this is my day. And the best wedding present you could give me is your happiness.” The music changed. They joined the line and two-stepped around the floor. “Something happened in Colorado.”

“Sophie—”

“Don’t say anything. Just listen.” Sophie demanded your attention, a trait Logan concluded had skipped a generation and she’d inherited from her grandfather. “Your real smile was back. Your eyes sparkled and you laughed like you did before Mom died. Whatever happened in Colorado, my daddy came home. Now he’s gone again and I want him back.”

“A bit overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“Don’t patronize me! You’re obviously blind to the truth.”

As the words spilled from her mouth, her grandfather tapped him on the shoulder, demanding his time with the bride. Logan pulled a lavender-tipped white rose from his lapel and placed it in her hair. “Always my baby girl,” he whispered, cheek to cheek, “
ti amo così tanto
. I do so love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she whispered in return. “And I’m impressed—your Italian is heart-stopping sexy in that husky voice of yours.”

Logan winked and handed his daughter to his father, pushed his hands in his pockets, and strolled to the table set aside for family. Serving himself a glass of champagne from the fountain, he sat next to his mother, who for the first time today was alone.

Audrey patted her son’s hand. “It’s hard to imagine your little girl so grown up.” She glanced from Logan to Sophie. “And she’s right, you know.”

He downed half the champagne in one long drink. “About what, Mom?”

She twisted her bracelet. “I shouldn’t think I need to spell it out for you,” she said, sunlight dancing off the diamonds. “You’re a smart man, but you can be as bullheaded as your father.”

“I think you and Sophie are conspiring against me.”

“No one is conspiring against you, Logan Wentworth Cavanaugh,” she said, shifting her broad-rimmed summer hat and waving a hand fan. “You’re doing an acceptable job of it all by yourself.”

“Not you too?” he scowled, and rubbed a hand across his chin, the stubble rough against his palm. “Less than an hour ago, I married my daughter to a man I hardly know. I have a right to be somewhat discrepant.”

“Your daughter’s radiant. And Reese is a wonderful man. Very much like you.”

Logan shot her a critical glance.

“Sophie’s happy and in capable hands. And she wants to see her father happy. As do I. There’s no such thing as a safe passage through this life and it’s time you put the past where it belongs.”

“This isn’t the time or place for this, Mom.” Logan clenched his jaw and looked away, struggling to bury the need for a woman he shouldn’t, and rebuking himself for betraying a promise.

“You were a changed man when you came back from Whisper of the Pines. What happened to that man?”

Green eyes. The Mediterranean Sea on a stormy day. Passion. A broken promise. A good-bye kiss that touched the places no one ever had. No one.
“I don’t think I need to explain myself—”

“I want my son back.”

Logan straightened. “What is it with the Cavanaugh women today? Do they have eyes that can pierce my soul, or is it they enjoy seeing me flounder?” He downed the rest of the champagne and took another from the passing waiter.

“We’re sensitive, intuitive women and your daughter sees what I see. You’ve distanced yourself again,” she said, scooting her chair next to his. She took his arm. “You love the Lord, Logan. But something’s not right. Whatever happened changed you, and you have to accept the fact you don’t have to pastor a church to live your life for God.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Sometimes God uses our circumstances to change us, and my son found something that affected him deeply and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.” She brushed invisible lint from the bodice of her lavender dress. “Guilt shows up like a radioactive biohazard on your face, Logan. Has since you were a little boy caught with your hand in the cookie jar. And don’t try to tell me you’re happy behind that counterfeit smile. You’re a damned wind-up toy trying to pass your existence off as part of the living.”

Her words touched a raw nerve and his first thought was to distance himself from her insinuating remarks. But his mother’s voice had been gentle, and her words somehow rang true. He found no need to force himself to stay.

“You’ll always carry the past with you, Logan. It can’t be changed. But you can change the path you choose now.”

“Haven’t I already done that?”

“You’ve compromised.” Audrey leaned into her chair. “I think you were sent an angel and you let her go because you can’t honor a promise you can’t possibly keep.”

“I don’t make promises lightly.” Logan glared at her. “And it’s not your concern if I choose to honor one or not.” He turned away from her, raising his glass to a passing guest.

“I may be meddling where I’m not welcome. But I love you, Logan. I want what’s best for my son and right now Chicago is not the place for you. Nor is the pastorate.”

“It’s my calling.” He leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees.

“Perhaps,” she said with a shrug, “but life’s too short to surrender yourself to something you aren’t meant for. Life happens. People change. Pray about it, Son. God listens.” Audrey leaned closer. “He’s tapped into souls like Nixon was to Watergate,” she whispered, and then patted his arm.

“Sometimes I think you have a direct line to my mind.”

She shook her head. “A mother knows her son.”

An artful smile lurked in the corners of her mouth. A pragmatic woman by nature, Audrey Cavanaugh wasn’t one to ordinarily make light of a serious situation, but an instant later the knowing expression reached her eyes in a firework of joyous lines. Logan’s chuckle gave way to an inward smile, one steeped in remembrance.

“There’s my son’s precious half-smile.”

With a deep sigh, Logan lowered his head, the champagne easing his reservations. “You know me well,” he said with a sidelong glance.

Audrey swiveled in her chair, raising her glass to guests as he had done moments ago.

“You made a promise to a woman you loved, but she’s gone, Logan.”

Logan rubbed his hands together in an effort to dislodge words that rang in his head as truth. “I feel like I’ve been sucked inside the belly of a ship that can’t break from the storm.”

“Perhaps you need to get off that ship.”

“I don’t know if I can. I can’t go back. Or change anything.”

“Stop torturing yourself and whoever this woman is, find her. Love her. Don’t turn her away.”

The words simmered and slowly burned through the façade of denial. “She’s more than a memory.” He lowered his head and spoke in a ruffled whisper. “I can’t put her out of my mind. To let go. Of her, or the memories.”

“Then don’t be a fool. Find her. Don’t let that passion smolder and burn out.”

Rooted in truth, her words consumed him. Truths he’d fought to deny. Ones he’d quietly swept behind the masquerade of duplicity. And he bore the weight of their brutality, cruel and restless, unable to deny the solidity of their power. “How did you know?”

Audrey cradled her son’s hands in hers. “I’m your mother. I can see it in your eyes. I’m also a woman. I’m old, Son. Not dead.”

Logan squinted in the bright light as he surveyed the crowd. “I made a promise…to Laurie. And I betrayed that promise.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow and gave a shallow nod of understanding.

A lump rose in Logan’s throat. “There’s a war going on inside me and I don’t know how to fight it.”

“Don’t.”

“What if I make the wrong decision?”

“You might,” she responded without hesitation. “But I have faith that if you saw enough in her to let her in, even for a moment, then it’s right. Besides, it’s not your decision to make, and I think you’ve already been given the answer.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve got one hand in hers, the Devil’s got the other, and I’m caught in the crossfire of heaven and hell.”

“It’s not love that hurts, Logan, but the heartache and loneliness of losing someone. You’ve known that kind of love. Never forget how it feels,” she said. “Whoever this woman is, her absence is causing your heart to break, and if it wasn’t right, it damn sure wouldn’t hurt. Find her. Go to her.” Her face brightened. “And when you do, bring her home. She’s a woman of impeccable taste,” she added, nodding, “and I want to meet the amazing woman who has stolen my son’s heart.”

“I was a coward to leave her,” he whispered, “and I didn’t mean to fall….”

Audrey stood. “I know,” she said and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder.

Logan covered her hand and drew a breath. “I’m in love with her.” The thought turned warm and yearning inside him, and with sudden clarity he knew it to be true.

“Love always finds its way home, Logan.”

“It’s too late. I left her.”

“You’re a Cavanaugh, and Cavanaugh men fight for what they want and know is right.” Audrey smiled and adjusted the line of her dress with both hands. “Yes, well, now that I’ve convinced one Cavanaugh male to think straight, I believe I shall rescue your father. He looks far too giddy dancing with that perky young woman.”

Logan sat alone, his hands clasped before him. Snowbound in the Rocky Mountains, he’d felt an ingrained desire to rescue a woman from the pain of her past, from herself and from the river. Looking back, it had been the woman with the paralyzing ocean-green eyes who had rescued him.

After taking a few steps, Audrey turned back. “And I think you need to disentangle your youngest. Judging by her behavior, she’s celebrating a bit too intimately.”

Logan smiled and rose to find Abbey.

Always the entertainer, Abbey kept things colorfully spirited with the same natural exuberance her mother had. High on the euphoria of her sister’s wedding, the bubbly elation of champagne, and a throng of friends hanging on her every word, the sparkle in her eyes matched the animated wave over a sea of bobbing heads.

“Dance with me, Daddy,” she giggled. “Only I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m not going to stand on your shoes.” Alive with mischief, her brown eyes smiled and the button nose her mother bequeathed her scrunched into a little knot.

The lavender maid of honor dress her sister had chosen for her illuminated her porcelain skin, and burnished light brown curls kissed her shoulders, the resemblance to her mother uncanny. Her image struck him unexpectedly, not as a bitter reminder of what he’d lost, but of the amazing young woman she’d become, and whose petite frame bounced on tiptoes.

“Fair enough,” he said, and bent his head to her upturned face, “but I don’t want to step on your bare feet.”

Abbey wiggled her toes. Logan threw his head back and laughed, grasped her tightly, and two-stepped across the dance floor to “I’m In,” a lively Keith Urban tune.

“You seem happier than I’ve seen you in awhile,” she said, smiling up at him. “It’s nice.”

Though she favored her mother, her eyes were his, and the illustration of her joy shimmered in their tawny depths.

“It’s good to hear you laugh again. It makes me all funny inside.”

“I believe that has something to do with the champagne.”

“No, sir,” she pouted. “I’m serious.” And she placed her hand over her father’s heart. “It comes from here.”

“What do you expect? I’m surrounded by beautiful Cavanaugh women.”

Abbey hugged her father selfishly. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered and nestled herself against him, just below the shoulder in the shallow crook of his chest, a safe haven for sleep-weary heads of little girls, exhausted brides, and maids of honor. And one woman.

His daughters would always be his little girls and they rarely passed an opportunity to wrap themselves around his finger or melt his heart.

“I do so love you, my baby girl.” Logan kissed her on the forehead just as a handsome young man approached—his unruly hair a bit on the long side—waiting for her to turn around. “I believe this gentleman desires your attention, Abbey,” he said, regarding the lanky young man whose hesitance seemed engendered by Logan’s presence, easily a head taller and shoulders twice as broad.

“Jason,” she squealed, arms open wide.

She truly was the spitting image of her mother.

The band changed pace and a slow, haunting tune drifted across the gardens. Logan’s father grasped Audrey’s hand and held it securely against his chest. Sophie, nestled against Reese’s shoulder shared a quiet moment with her new husband. And Abbey, one arm waving wilding about, the other resting lightly on the young man’s shoulder, swayed to the music. The tiny knot of people teased one corner of his mouth that tugged an invisible string tied to his heart. His family—a reflection of the past and a vision of the future.