Taste: A Love Story (37 page)

“That’s enough. You’re making me out to be some fucking martyr. It’s part of being in a family. We help each other. Not all of us come from . . .”

“From where Logan? Go ahead and say it. I know my family isn’t perfect. I’m not saying you don’t have a wonderful family. You do. I love them. It’s not them, it’s you. I’m not leaving you, I’m not running anymore, and you don’t know where to fit me in.”

She was relentless and he felt himself going down. She was in control and appeared to know it. He could feel the panic rising up the back of his neck.

“That’s it, isn’t it Logan? You can’t relax, count on me because God forbid if the indestructible Logan Rye ever needed me.”

Logan’s father had once taken him to a middleweight boxing match. He still remembered staring up wide-eyed at that tattooed man, eye swollen and blood dripping from his mouth as he hung on the ropes. On the way home he’d asked his father how a man could handle that much pain. His dad had ruffled his hair and said, “A man’s wired to fight his way off the ropes and then other times there’s nothing left to do but throw in the towel, son.” Logan was on the ropes. He couldn’t take anymore, so he took one last shot.

“You’ll never have to worry about me needing you, princess. I can take care of myself. Always have.”

“I know, and that’s the problem. It’s not enough. I don’t want someone who’s just going to take care of me. I want to take care of you. I want to hold you up, too. It’s not fair if you’re the only one who gets to be strong.”

“Well, then I’m sorry. This is who I am—how I was raised.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right. I wonder if she knows the damage she’s caused.”

“Damage? There is no damage.”

“Oh, Logan. Of course there’s damage. We all have it.”

“Don’t climb in my head. I don’t need a therapist.”

“What is it you need, Logan?”

“Shit!” Logan threw in the towel and walked back out into the rain.

Chapter Thirty-Four

A
s soon as Logan slid into the booth at Libby’s on Wednesday morning and sat across from his dad, no Makenna, no Garrett, he knew what their meeting would be about.

“Not talking about it,” Logan said.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“You know, I’ve never said boo to you about how you conduct your business. Except I will say the music in those bathrooms at your restaurant is way too loud.”

Logan peered over his menu.

“Says who?”

“Says me. Can barely hear myself think in there and that’s what the damn bathroom is for. I’ve made some of my best decisions in the bathroom, so you might want to think about lowering it.”

Logan shook his head. “I’ll get right on that. Is that what this meeting is about?”

“No, I thought you might want to talk.”

Logan said nothing. Both men sipped their coffee and Libby took their order.

“I’m having a hard time finding my way back, that’s all. I’ll be fine, I just need some time.”

“What are you finding your way back from, son?”

Logan shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. He tried anyway. “My normal—where I was before . . . Christ, I don’t know. Nothing works anymore.” Logan watched his father fold the paper wrapper he’d taken off his napkin. He didn’t look up, so Logan went back to staring at his thick-rimmed coffee cup.

“Your girl’s not your mom.”

Their eyes met and Logan was sure the shock registered across his face. His father had always guided them, but he wasn’t big on advice when they were growing up. He believed they needed to figure things out for themselves.

“I know.” He was having a hard time breathing.

“You sure? Seems like you’re bent on going it alone. You’ve got to know that’s probably wrapped up in what your mom did to you. Women, they’re not all her, Lo. I want you to know that.”

The look in his father’s eyes was too intense. Logan needed out.

“Boy, how much Oprah do you watch?” he asked and felt the pressure ease when his dad laughed.

Libby delivered their pancakes and for a few minutes both men passed the syrup and talked about Logan’s new tomato plants.

“I’m serious,” his father said, pulling the conversation back. “Sure, relationships are scary, but if you do the work they work. You’ve got your whole life. You don’t want to be alone, Lo. You know when you were a kid, you used to hang out on the couch instead of your room like Garrett. You were a snuggler. You liked being around everyone.”

“Dad—”

“Don’t interrupt me. You’re not meant to go it alone, but you’re a little damaged. That’s okay, so is she.” His dad paused to take a sip of coffee. “You love her, she loves you. That doesn’t happen every day. She’s her own woman, smart. I like that. And her eyes are calm.”

“Dad,” Logan warned as his chest tightened.

“She’s a good one, Lo. That’s all I’m saying. It’d be a shame if you let her go.” He sipped his coffee.

“You finished?” Logan asked.

He nodded.

“I know she’s all of those things, but she wants things I’m not willing to give. Things were great, but now she’s pushing. She’s got a lot of this stuff with her family. She likes to talk and discuss things and I’m just not into that. I like to keep moving. I like to stay focused and with her, I lose sight of things. I start thinking.”

“Thinking about what? Marrying her, giving me another grandkid?”

“Whoa! Where did the marriage thing come from?”

His father seemed like a little kid with a secret.

“I never said I wanted to marry her.”

“Don’t have to. It’s clear as day every time you’re around her.”

Logan shook his head and wondered how the hell a man looked when he wanted to marry a woman. Did his dad make this shit up? Or maybe it was Oprah again. Tomorrow on our show, Five Ways a Man Looks When He Wants to Get Married.

“Back to what I was saying—I understand what you’re saying, but I’ve got to call bullshit when I see it. Those are only excuses for you to keep yourself safe. That’s not you, Lo. You drink up life, always have, but your mom messed you up. Whether you want to see it or not, that’s what this is about. It’s time you moved on.”

Logan was pretty sure this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with his father that didn’t involve produce.

“Okay, I’ll consider what you’re saying. Still doesn’t mean things with Kara and me are ever going to work, Dad. I appreciate the—”

“The girl fed the pigs for Christ’s sake. When she came out for that interview thing. Fed the pigs, yes she did. She’s a keeper.”

“Dad, that was a novelty. She’s writing an article. The jeans she wore that day were probably hundreds of dollars.”

“Oh, don’t do that. She’s not about all of that. Besides, my jeans are pretty pricey these days too. Kenna’s turned me on to these Levi’s 606 jeans. You heard of them?” his father asked, lifting up from the booth like he was going to show his tag.

Logan shook his head, again shocked.

“Well, they’re vintage according to Kenna. I love ’em because they’re made like jeans used to be made in the sixties and they’re made in this country. That’s important too, but the damn things cost me almost two hundred a pair.”

Logan laughed. “You pay two hundred dollars for your jeans?”

“Have to. Seems that’s what good stuff costs these days. It’s not just food, Lo. Kenna’s forever telling me to be responsible, pay attention.” His father smiled.

“Good kids, all three of you. I got lucky.” He looked up, eyes a little glassy, and Logan’s chest squeezed again.

“Has nothing to do with luck, Dad. It’s hard work and sticking around.”

“So do the work then, raise your own family.”

“I can’t.” Logan barely recognized his own voice. “I have this family. This works and I’m not willing to risk something—”

“Lo, we’re all grown up now. All of us,” his father said, looking right at him. “Love’s all about risk. You don’t get a guarantee, there’s no contract, and sometimes you get stepped on. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try. Kind of like that running of the bulls thing you sent me when you were in Spain. Those people get in there and let the thing chase them because it’s a rush. Son, that’s what we live for. It’ll break my damn heart if you keep yourself all knotted up in there.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. Libby cleared their plates and left the check on the same flowered metal tray. He felt like paying the check and getting the hell out or changing the subject back to something that made sense. Chickens, his salsa recipe, anything but this.

“I’m sorry your mom couldn’t be, what’s that Oprah says, ‘the best version of herself.’ She was just not cut out to be a mom.”

Logan ran his hand over his face. He was so damn tired. “You know, I’ve heard that phrase before, that she wasn’t cut out, and it seems like such a simple explanation for a terribly complicated thing. A mother doesn’t leave her children, Dad. I don’t care how hard it is or whether or not she’s cut out for something. That’s a bullshit excuse.”

“It is. I won’t argue with you, but a person can’t do something they can’t do either. What if she’d stayed? I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and I’m pretty convinced she did us a favor.”

Logan glanced up again in surprise.

“You didn’t know her. I mean sure you knew her as your mom, but I knew her and she was a mess, Lo.”

Logan felt the tears and put his palms to his eyes, as if he could somehow push them back in. His father reached across the table and took his hand.

“You did great, Lo. We made it and now it’s time to let yourself be loved. She won’t let you down, I can almost guarantee it.”

Logan laughed. “Oh really?”

“She fed the pigs, Lo, and loved it. That’s gold.” His father slid the check over and took some bills from his money clip.

Logan let him pay; there was no sense arguing. They walked out of Libby’s and the sun was trying to shine past the clouds that had been threatening rain since last night. Logan felt lighter. Maybe he’d been waiting for someone to tell him they were in the clear—that they’d made it. He would probably never understand, but he knew when his father said they were better off, even great, that something shifted. Maybe he had been taking care of everyone else. He loved them and trusted them above all else, but now according to his father, it was time. Time for him to go beg the sexiest pig feeder in the world to forgive him.

Logan walked his dad to his truck. His father pulled him into a hug.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you, son. I love you.” Then, his father did something he hadn’t done since Logan graduated from college—he kissed his forehead. His father turned from him, a little glassy-eyed, and Logan knew this would be the very last time they spoke of this. They would put his mother, his father’s wife, back where she belonged and move on. Logan watched his father drive past and wave, and not for the first time, he felt fortunate. Life wasn’t always fair, but he lucked out in the father department.

Chapter Thirty-Five

K
ara spent the morning reorganizing her closet and cleaning out her refrigerator. She even ran her usual route twice earlier that morning as the sun was rising. Lately, she found that two loops were the minimum to set her straight. She stopped by the farmers market on her way home, and now, putting her new produce in clean refrigerator drawers lined with fresh paper towels, Kara felt fine. Jason Mraz was strumming his guitar and asking her to live high, live righteously as Kara closed her refrigerator and hopped in the shower.

It was actually a little heady now that she knew who she wanted to be, she thought as the warm spray hit her face. She’d told her mother she would commit to campaigns going forward, but other than holidays, she would not be available for fundraisers or whatever other events Stanley managed to dig up. Her mother was put out at first, but eventually acquiesced. Kara was learning to be selfish with her time and even though she was pretty sure her heart would hurt for some time, she was moving toward happy. That was enough for now.

She got out of the shower, dried her hair, and started making lunch. She was cooking more now and managed to get Makenna to sneak her a few bottles of olive oil from the monks. Kara couldn’t erase Logan, or the things he’d brought to her life, completely. She didn’t want to. He was part of her and that didn’t change simply because they couldn’t make it work. She knew she would eat at The Yard again someday, and eventually seeing him would hurt less and less. Kara had just finished chopping zucchini and making her tea when her phone vibrated across the counter.

“Hi, honey. How are things?” Olivia asked.

“Things are good,” Kara replied, tilting her head to hold the phone while she rinsed her hands from the zucchini.

“Perfect, listen I just got off the phone with Harold and I guess Logan Rye added some equipment to his yard at the house. From what we are hearing, it’s pretty special and I was hoping since you handled the original stories so beautifully you wouldn’t mind finishing this up for me?”

“Olivia, what’s this about?”

Olivia did her dramatic sigh. “Help me out here, Kara. I’ve got a date tonight with Jeremy, otherwise I’d do it myself.”

“Oh”—Kara smiled into the phone—“you two are dating?”

“Yeah, that’s old news. Where have you been? Oh, that’s right, you left me. We are dating and my God, let me tell you the man can—”

“So things didn’t work out with the therapist?” Kara asked, cutting her off before Olivia made another comment that made taking photographs sound obscene.

“That was never going to work. He never shut up,” Olivia said and Kara could picture her on the other end of the phone, feet propped on her desk with her head thrown back laughing at herself.

“Enough about amazing Jeremy. We’ll pay you freelance to handle this last one. Believe me, honey, you’re going to want to cover this.”

Olivia knew something, but she was never going to tell Kara, so there was no point in asking. She’d just have to head to Logan’s house and find out for herself. She was fine with that, might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.

“Okay, I’ll go over tomorrow and get you something in the next few days.” Kara prepared to hang up.