The baby. Logan’s muscles tensed. A mistake. “Her name was Sara.”
“I’m sorry,” Pop murmured, touching his arm. “You haven’t been the same since you lost Sara. And it’s time for you to...”
“What?”
Pop sighed. “Move on. You’ve spent so much time worrying about Amy, it’s time you worked on yourself. Time for you to let go of what happened. Time to forget—”
“Forget Sara?” Logan’s throat closed, tightening to the point of pain.
Pop winced. “No. I didn’t mean that.”
“That’s exactly what you meant.” Logan’s gut roiled. “And that should be easy, right? Because I’m a man? Because I didn’t know her? That’s the same thing everyone else said after we lost her.”
“Logan—”
“I knew my daughter.” His voice turned hoarse, tearing from his throat in rough rasps. “Sara knew me, too. I put my hand on Amy’s belly every day and Sara kicked every time I spoke to her.” His breath shuddered from him. “That’s how I knew something wasn’t right. I put my hand over her that morning and talked to her and she didn’t move.” He shook his head. “Amy didn’t think anything was wrong. Not until later. But I knew that morning.”
Logan stared ahead, the flames of the bonfire licking higher and the smoke growing thicker.
“We’d lost her that night while we were sleeping.” His lungs seized, choking him. “Sara died right there in that bed beside me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.”
“No one expected you to, son. Nature has a way—”
“Of taking care of things. I know.” Logan grimaced, eyes blurring. “That’s why I can’t understand it. When we saw her, she was beautiful. So perfect. She just didn’t cry.” He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets. “I kept holding her, thinking they’d got it wrong. That she’d wake up. She would’ve been due in two more weeks. I can’t understand how she could be that perfect and not cry. How she could almost make it...”
Pop kneaded the back of Logan’s neck, his words low against his ear. “It’s okay to mourn for Sara. To miss her. But it wasn’t your fault or Amy’s. You have to accept this was something you couldn’t control and choose to move on. For your sake and hers.”
“Every choice I’ve ever made has been for Amy’s sake.” Logan pulled away. “It’s called loyalty. Something a lot stronger than this illusion of love everyone keeps holding on to. It’s something Mom knew nothing about. Even Amy didn’t have a clue what it was, lying to me the way she did. And I have no intention of trading it off for this reckless fantasy all of you keep trying to sell. The only thing that’s ever been certain in my life has been my word. Everything else—everyone else—has been a damned disappointment.” He motioned to the hands across the field and called out, “Let’s get this fire out. It’s time to call it a night.”
They nodded, tossing their beers in the trash and rounding up buckets of water.
“Logan, you can’t build a future when your hands are holding on to the past.”
“The only thing I’m holding on to is my wife. I made a vow and I’m standing by it because it’s the right thing to do.” His lip curled. “The only dignified thing to do. Surely you can understand that.” He shook his head. “Amy and I may have been dumb kids back then but we’re not now. I’m not going into this blind, and Amy knows exactly where I stand.” His mouth ran dry and he forced his words past the lump in his throat. “I knew my daughter. Sara was not a mistake. And neither was my marriage.”
Logan spun on his heel and joined the hands, grabbing a bucket of water and heaving it over the pit. The hiss and sizzle of dying fire sounded and smoke billowed out with fury. He grabbed another and repeated the motion, muscles screaming with every throw.
Things would be different this time. He wouldn’t fail Amy. And thank God they’d never have the chance to fail a child again.
“MMMM.” AMY CLOSED her eyes in bliss and wrapped her hands tighter around the warm mug. “Mama, you make the best hot chocolate in existence.”
Betty smiled. “It’s all about balance, baby girl. You have to make sure the bitter matches the sweet. Besides, you can’t break in Christmas properly without a decent hot cocoa.”
Amy took another sip and rolled it over her tongue, savoring the peaceful stillness of the empty kitchen. She and Traci had helped Cissy get the boys bathed and tucked in bed. Traci and Cissy had called it a night but Amy had lingered, reading three bedtime stories before the boys’ eyelids finally fluttered shut.
Amy smiled. She could’ve stayed in the boys’ room for hours, reading in gentle tones and listening to their soft breaths. It hadn’t taken long for their rambunctious sweetness to slip into her heart. She’d grown so close to them it’d be painful to leave.
Betty set her cup down and reached across the table to squeeze Amy’s forearm. “It’s good to see you smile again.”
Amy drummed her fingers against her cup. “I smile enough. Matter of fact, we have plenty of laughs when you and Traci visit me in Augusta.”
Betty shook her head. “They’re not like the ones you had out by the bonfire tonight. You looked like your old self again wearing Logan’s hat and grinning. I don’t know what he did to coax it out of you but he did it right.”
Amy’s face flamed. She sat back, dodging Betty’s narrowed gaze. “We went for a ride, is all. I just haven’t ridden in so long it was nice to race again. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”
Betty released her arm and retrieved her cup. Amy dug into the plastic bag of marshmallows on the table, plucked one out and plopped it into her cocoa. It bobbed around in the dark liquid, melting in white streaks around the edges.
She pressed the cup to her lips and the sickly-sweet foam of the melted marshmallow clung to her gums, rolling her stomach. She dropped the mug to the table with a clang and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Betty leaned forward, brow creasing.
Amy nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I haven’t been feeling well, lately.”
Her hand shook. Betty’s gaze clung to it. Amy shoved it between her knees below the table.
“Baby, you know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how old you are?”
“I know.”
“Well, I’m here if you ever want to talk.” Betty shifted forward, mouth opening and closing a time or two. “About your new job or the move.” She shrugged, fiddling with the handle on her cup. “Or Logan.”
Amy’s lips twitched. “Smooth delivery, Mama. Real smooth.”
Betty flushed and waved a hand in front of her face. “I forget you have so much of your father in you.” She smiled. “He never had much use for tact, either.”
Amy laughed, the churning in her gut easing. Betty was right. Her dad had always been blunt. They reminisced about his many missteps and before long, Betty joined her, doubling over and holding her belly as she chuckled. At the same time, Betty’s eyes darkened with sadness over the loss of her husband.
The nausea returned and Amy’s laughter broke away, fading with each jerk of her shoulders. Amy fought for air, her lungs burning. She pressed a weak fist to her chest, fighting to regain composure at Betty’s shocked expression.
“I’m scared, Mama.”