The Kitchen Witch (30 page)
"Jessie told me a bit about the way your father treated you and your mother, but not much."
"He said I'd never amount to anything."
"Hey, our fathers predicted the same for us."
"Nah, yours is mild… and redeemable." Logan extended his hand. "Have I shocked you?"
"A bit."
She rose and leaned into him. "Makes me like you more."
"No kidding?" He kissed her brow. "Guess I should have told you sooner."
They made their way past
He kissed Melody on the porch before they went in the house.
A kiss good-bye.
He believed she knew it as well. Good-bye to intimacy and a future that could never be. They would both move on, move forward.
Logan had a son to
raise—
none of the choices he made were for himself. Melody had a life to conquer, every choice she made based on survival. Her parents had about crippled her in that way, he thought. His father had nearly done the same to him.
Funny how the past could direct the future, no matter how hard you tried to keep it from happening.
Melody pushed her door open. "
Kira
, Shane, we're home." She turned to Logan. "They must have gone upstairs after all."
He ran up. "Hey, sport, I'm home."
Melody heard Logan shout. She got halfway up before he came out. "They're not here."
"They're not in my apartment, either."
When there was no answer at
Kira's
or Jessie's, Logan punched in 911 on his cell phone. "I'd like to report my son missing."
Chapter Twenty-Three
LOGAN watched his hand tremble as he told the police dispatcher he'd been out all night on a job emergency and hadn't seen his son since five the night before. The dispatcher said the boy hadn't been missing long enough for them to start a search, but when Logan asked for detective Grey, he promised that Grey would be right there.
Logan and Melody walked through the neighborhood calling Shane's name. They rang Jessie's doorbell, just in case, but no one answered. "She should sell the house," Melody said. "It needs a family in it."
"Screw the house; my son is missing!"
"I won't kid you, you're scaring me, but I think you're overreacting."
They woke their neighbors fronting the harbor, but they hadn't seen Shane, and they weren't pleased to be roused, either. Melody came up beside Logan as he looked out over the harbor. "This is stupid," she said. "There's a logical explanation."
Logan said nothing then, but back in the driveway, he cursed. "I can't believe I let you talk me into letting that witch baby-sit. Of all the irresponsible…"
"
Kira
is not irresponsible, and neither am I for suggesting her, if that's where you're—"
"Me!" Logan snapped, "I'm irresponsible, damn it. I've done some stupid things in my life, but this—misplacing my son—is by far the worst. Worse than robbing that store, worse than getting Shane's mother pregnant, worse than allowing Tiffany to believe we're engaged, worse even than taking you to bed."
"Gee, thanks."
"Tonight, I proved my old man right."
"Taking me to bed is not the worst thing you've ever done."
"No, losing my son is."
"He isn't lost. We should try
Kira
again."
"Do it," Logan said, handing Melody his phone.
He shouted Shane's name a couple more times, to keep from jumping out of his skin. Two patrol cars pulled up at about the same time. His heart skipped, because he thought he heard Shane answer. Detective Grey stepped from the patrol car in time to see
Kira
and Shane, a frisky beagle pup in tow, emerge through a backyard hedge.
"Hey, Dad."
Shane ran over. "Wow, cops!"
Logan had never been more grateful for anything in his life than he was to see his son. He lifted Shane in his arms.
"
Da-aad
, you're squishing me."
"How come the police are here?"
Kira
asked Melody.
"Logan reported Shane missing."
Kira
frowned. "Didn't you read my note?"
"What note?" Grey asked.
"Oops," Shane said, pulling a sticky note and red pushpin from his pocket. "I
was's'posed
to tack it to the door.
Sorry,
Kira
."
"My fault," she said, ruffling his hair. "I should have made sure you did."
"Where the hell were you?" Logan shouted at
Kira
.
"We went to get my dog. Shane worried about Spooky all through the storm, so when the rain stopped, we went to get him. I said so in the note."
"Dad, she only lives two streets over. We cut through lots 'a yards, and I was
hopin
' somebody would yell at us."
"Likes to play with fire," Melody told Detective Grey, "like his father."
"Can it, Mel." Logan thanked the detective for coming, and saw him off, before turning back to Melody. "I'm giving up playing with fire. I can't stand the heat, or the chaos, or the mayhem,
that results
, and it's not what I want for Shane either." He could see that she knew exactly what he meant. Chaos, turmoil, problems seemed to follow wherever she went.
"I'm settling it with Tiffany, now," he said. "No more fire, no more Mr. Irresponsible. Keep Shane for a while; I'll pick you up for work in about an hour."
Melody nodded, while the welling in her eyes brought
a heaviness
to Logan's chest.
AT Max's house, Tiffany met Logan at the door in a clingy red silky thing as flashy as her diamond fingernails. "Can't wait to see me, darling?"
He evaded her kiss and took her hands to examine her nails. She hadn't yet bothered to get them fixed. He rubbed a thumb over the single pale nail, minus its glittering fake. "The police have it," he said.
"If you care to claim it."
She retrieved her hands and placed the undamaged one on her heart. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you do. It's called evidence… of the breaking-and-entering variety."
"Logan, don't."
"Don't what? What do you want from me, Tiff?"
"Keep this between us? For old times' sake?"
"Old times?"
He chuckled. "It'll cost you."
She raised her chin. "Name your price."
"You can't buy your way out of this one, honey, not with me. Here's the deal: We're through, and you tell Daddy breaking it off is your idea. I'll resign from WHCH, and you stay the hell away from Melody… from now on. If anything, I mean anything, goes wrong for Mel—her show, her friends, lovers, car, future—if
she
so much as breaks a nail—I'll… turn you in to the police, and you get arrested for burglary."
"Arrested? It's my station."
"You want to duke that one out with your father and the police, then?" She paled but said nothing. "I didn't think so," Logan continued. "No more sabotaging Melody's shows, not an unkind word, a snub, or snide remark. Stay clear of her, of the station actually. Yeah, go work at another station—you've got plenty—and no one says a word. Oh, did I tell you that Melody also recognized your nail when the police found it?"
"Logan. I'm sorry, I was… afraid—"
He stepped beyond her reach and into the foyer. "Get your father, Tiff. You need to tell him you don't want to marry me."
Max came down in a chocolate brocade dressing gown, looking tired. He asked about the break-in, and Melody's missing show, and mentioned the seven-figure cost to the station if they lost it.
Tiffany lowered herself to the edge of a chair and gave Logan an imperceptible nod.
"After the police left last night," Logan told Max, "Melody and I managed to retrieve the raw clips from the server. We stayed up half the night reformatting. The
show's
not exactly the same as the original—Mel thinks it's better—but you've got a Thanksgiving show to ship this morning."
"I may not wait for the wedding to make you a partner," Max said as he accepted a cup of coffee from a maid.
Logan turned to Tiffany, who sighed. "Logan and I are not getting married after all, Daddy."
"Your daughter has decided to end our engagement, sir. We wanted you to know as soon as possible. I'll have my resignation on your desk by
. Though, after last night's save, I'm still hoping for a recommendation."
"Suppose I don't accept your resignation?"
"To be fair to your daughter, I don't think you have a choice."
Max rose with a sigh. "I can't say I'm not disappointed. You've been an asset, and I still think you'd make a great partner." He gave his daughter a different look this time, as if he wondered where he'd gone wrong.
He shook Logan's hand at the door. "Come see me later. We'll see what we can find…
er
,
we're not losing Melody, too, are we?"
"No, sir."
Logan shot Tiffany a meaningful glance. "You've still got your Kitchen Witch."
"Good, good. I
thought,
perhaps,
er
… glad to hear it."
MELODY paced half the morning, wondering what Logan was up to. He'd barely spoken to her since returning from Tiffany's. He remained quiet and introspective in the car and worked in silence at his computer after they arrived. Then he went, God knew where, without a word.
He hadn't given her a straight answer or met her eyes once all morning. True, they'd made love all night in this very room, but she didn't think that was the problem. She'd known, of course, that everything would be different once they consummated their lust, but she hadn't expected it to be this different, or this frightening.
Logan returned to the office after about two hours.
"Where have you been?" Melody asked.
"I gave Peabody my resignation, and he accepted it."
"Idiot."
Melody lowered herself to the sofa. "What are you going to do now?"
"Work on my resume?"
"To protect Tiffany?
You think that selfish bitch is worth your job?"
"Keep your voice down," Logan said, shutting the office door. "The bitch's father owns your ass."
"You can be such a shit."
"Hey, don't hold back," Logan said, twisting the cap off a soft drink. "Tell me what you really think."
"You jerk," she said, coming to press a finger to the center of his tie. "I'm furious with you."
"Stay that way." He kept himself from raising her finger to his lips. "But tell me what I did to make you so mad."
"You got involved with the boss's daughter, for one thing, then to make matters worse, you quit your job, you dunce."
"You're right. I failed… again. If I can face it, so can you."
"You once accused me of failing so I could fulfill my father's expectations. I think you're doing the same."
"No, I'm good at what I do, and I know it, unlike you. I simply have to find another station that needs a dynamite producer."
"You don't even like being a producer."
"I like it well enough."
"Why don't you do something wild for once in your life and send out those documentaries you love making?"
"An independent filmmaker does not make a steady living."
"Will the real Logan
Kilgarven
please step
forward.
"
Logan raised a brow. "Care to explain that remark?"
"I'm on to you,
Kilgarven
. You've only been pretending to be a briefcase. You're hiding the real Logan
Kilgarven
beneath a camouflage suit of pinstripes. You date the women 'the suit'
should,
you do a job 'the bad boy' hates."
"I'm doing what I have to do to raise my son right."
"Define right."
"In a calm, stable environment.
No upheavals, no cops knocking on the door to arrest a wife-beating drunk, no kid going hungry."
"You didn't steal money, did you? You stole food."
"Either way, I turned my mother into a workaholic. The old man spent every dime on booze, and when I… brought that to her sad and guilt-ridden attention, we left him, and she got a second job.
Sometimes a third."
"You're not responsible for every member of your family. Your mother's a big girl."
"I'm responsible for my son, and as his father, I make choices with his best interests in mind."
"Commendable, but did you ever think that if you were happy, Shane would be, too."
"He is happy."
"He won't be when you leave Salem. You are planning to leave, aren't you?"
Melody's voice cracked, and her sorrow sent a shaft of pain straight to Logan's heart. Before he could stop himself, he took her in his arms and kissed
her,
with the same intensity he'd kissed her when they were making 1—
"No!" He stepped away, took a steadying breath. He didn't need her. "I need to do what's best for my son," he said. As to whether his son's father loved Melody, it didn't matter. No promises, no future. She'd set the rules, and he'd agreed. "I have a lead on a job," he said to ground them both. "Max made a few calls while I was with him."
"Where?"
"
Chicago
, probably.
Keep Shane for a couple of days while I fly out for an interview?" He held her while she cried, his throat aching, so dreadfully averse to letting her go, he wondered if she hadn't bewitched him after all.
WHILE Logan was in Chicago, Melody took Shane to a toy train show in a huge heated tent on the cobbled mall. He fell in love with a Blue Streak circus train and a layout with big top tents, animal cages, even a drawbridge. Not a shiny new train, but a beloved, well-played-with set in muted primary colors, with dents and scratches. The old guy selling it said he had built the layout more than fifty years before. He talked about his sons and grandsons playing with it over the years. Shane asked about the boys and what they liked best about it, and as the old man told his stories, Shane's eyes got to be as bright as his. Shane talked about the boys and their train all the way home.