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Her eyes filled with tears, which she quickly blinked away.
Tess wanted her mom back. No one knew her favorite cereal was Cocoa Puffs or that she liked red more than pink. Her mom had always made Tess smile. Now she didn’t have anything to smile about.
Tess wanted to go back to the way things were before, when she was just another kid. She used to like lots of things, like watching TV, kicking a ball and making friends. She didn’t do any of those things anymore.
Which made Tess think again about Heidi. They used to laugh together a lot in school and at each other’s houses. Now Tess couldn’t laugh, hadn’t laughed in months. So, what would she say when she saw Heidi?
They continued up Uncle Logan’s driveway. Whizzer put his front paws on the passenger window and scratched. Hannah put the window down an inch and helped hold him up so he could get air. The little dog breathed in deeply several times, pressing his wet nose to the window and wagging his tail as he dreamed of peeing on all those trees. At least, that’s what Tess imagined he was thinking. The darn dog peed on everything. He’d even tried to go on her right after they washed him in the sink in the gas station bathroom.
“This is where your uncle lives?” Thea asked as she shut off the engine. She had her head down so that she could see the huge two-story house in front of them through the windshield. “It’s got trees, and a mountain for a backyard…and friends.”
Tess used to think Uncle Logan’s house was a castle or a mansion. She’d loved pretending that she was a princess or a movie star who lived there with lots of servants. She didn’t have those silly dreams anymore. Bad things didn’t happen to princesses.
“This is where my mom died.” Tess bit her lip, wanting to stay in Thea’s small back seat forever. She didn’t want to be here.
Mrs. Garrett and Heidi climbed out of the SUV. Thea, Hannah and Whizzer jumped out of the Volkswagen. Tess couldn’t move.
“I’ll introduce you to Glen,” Mrs. Garrett said to Thea. “She’s a sweet thing.”
Tess had almost forgotten Aunt Glen was staying with Uncle Logan. She was old. Really old. Tess had heard Uncle Logan complain to her mom last summer that Aunt Glen didn’t have all her bulbs screwed in. It took Tess a couple of days to figure out that Uncle Logan thought Aunt Glen had gone crazy, which was fine with Tess because that meant Tess didn’t have to pretend nothing was wrong when she was around Aunt Glen.
“I check in on Glen a couple of times a day when the guys are on assignment. I’ll feel better that someone’s here with her all the time,” Mrs. Garrett was saying. “I’m sorry we can’t stay. Henry’s got a doctor’s appointment down the mountain in less than an hour, but you’ll be fine. We’ll come by tomorrow morning to check up on you.”
“Hi.” Heidi stepped into the Volkswagen’s open car door. Tess hadn’t seen her walk up.
She managed a strangled “Hi” back, which was followed by a painful silence.
Heidi wasn’t looking at Tess and Tess didn’t dare look Heidi in the eye. She wished she could just disappear under the quilts on the seat next to her, but that would be more embarrassing than not knowing what to say. Hannah had gone inside with the adults, so she was no help. Whizzer was busy running around and peeing on every bush he could see. And so Tess was left trapped in the back seat, unable to move or say a word.
Then Mrs. Garrett raced down the steps, saving Tess from further embarrassment. “Heidi, come on. You can catch up with the twins later.”
“See you,” Heidi called as she left.
Tess slumped over onto the quilts, buried her face in them and tried to stop the tears.
CHAPTER TWO
THE VIEW WAS SPECTACULAR, with snow-covered peaks standing out in sharp contrast against the smoke-softened sunset. One of the things Logan loved about being a Hot Shot was being close to nature. Only he could no longer enjoy it. Logan sat on an icy tree root with his back against the trunk, looking out over the Sun Valley base camp as it settled down for the night.
He had a birthday coming up soon. A birthday he’d be celebrating alone. He’d never been alone. Deb had even been born first. Growing up, she’d been the strong one when things got ugly with their father at home, which was often.
No kid should have to live through what Logan and Deb had. The harsh words. The fear. The bruises.
Shouts of laughter rippled through base camp. A group of firefighters from several different crews had gathered amidst the low tents that dotted the meadow’s snowy landscape. The wind was really blowing now, and this far from the fire line, it stole the breath right out of Logan’s lungs. His watch showed the temperature as twenty-nine degrees. Standing up and moving around would be smart. Too bad Logan wasn’t smart. As hot as he’d been the past few days on the fire line, he was an ice cube now. Which suited him just fine.
He stared back down at camp. For tactical purposes, NIFC had brought in portable toilets, a large canvas tent for Incident Command, and Jose’s Taco Truck, which had the best tacos in the Northwest, or so their signs proclaimed. Base camp provided firefighters with some of the amenities they didn’t have nearby. Camps didn’t get much more minimalist than this one, though.
Golden leaned his shoulder against a pine tree a few feet away from Logan, following the direction of his gaze. “Only the finest cuisine for our firefighters.”
“Breakfast burritos aren’t so bad.” At least the food was hot.
Golden rubbed his stomach as if it was empty. “It takes a lot of tacos to fill a man’s belly at the end of the day.”
Logan couldn’t argue with that. He shrugged deeper into his down jacket and thought longingly of a hot shower. Smoke and sweat had combined to form a sticky layer on Logan’s skin. NIFC hadn’t deemed the Sun Valley burn of a long enough duration to pay a vendor for portable shower stalls.
“How are you doing, Logan?”
Uh-oh. Logan shifted on the root. Even though they were best friends, Jackson and Logan tended to call each other by their Hot Shot names unless it was a social occasion or they felt the need to speak on a personal level, as Golden did now. And as he’d done over the past few days when Logan had lost his temper.
“I’m fine, Jackson.” Which was so far from the truth that the words nearly echoed in the hollow area once occupied by Logan’s heart.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
Logan sucked on his cheek to keep from saying anything.
“I need you out there one hundred percent. What I don’t need is you and Aiden going head-to-head every time I give an order. It’s not good for safety or team morale.”
Jackson knelt down until he could look Logan in the eye. “This is going to be a tough year on the crews as it is. Two other states set early controlled burns that blew over the line. We were fortunate that we contained ours with less than a ten-acre loss. California and Colorado weren’t so lucky.”
Logan perked up. He could talk about work. Work was his savior. “They lose anything other than tree husks? Was anyone injured? Did any structures get burned?”
“No. We were lucky this time. But public opinion is against us, budgets are tight and I don’t want any mistakes on my team.” His jaw had that firm set to it that warned, “Mess with me and you’ll be in for a world of hurt.”
Relieved that the crews were okay, Logan gave a jerky nod to indicate he understood, that he would try harder to toe the line. Then he waited for Jackson to go away.
He didn’t.
“I know that losing Deb hit you hard, but you have to snap out of this.”
“Is that an order?” Something bitter climbed up Logan’s throat. He told himself it was just bad tacos, not the fact that his best friend since high school was disappointed in him. “Or am I missing something?”
Jackson shook his head. “You know what I miss? I miss my right-hand man. I miss my friend. There are a lot of us that miss you, buddy. You might want to think about that while you’re checking out that sunset.”
Logan would like nothing more than to do just that.
Only thing was, he didn’t know how to find that person Jackson referred to—the man he used to be.
STANDING IN LOGAN’S driveway later, Thea breathed deeply. The green scent of fir and pine filled the air. The dark green and brown colors set against the dusting of snow on the ground were calming. This part of Idaho was breathtakingly beautiful, so different from the skyscrapers of Seattle.
She could forget her goals up here, set aside the dream of earning a degree that would put her at the top of her field as her mother had done. Here she could listen to her little inner voice, the one that occasionally piped up at the oddest times with a twenty-seven-year-old’s desire for a family, a white picket fence and PTA meetings.
She let herself stare at Logan’s house just a little longer before she went back inside. It was a perfect house, straight off a Christmas card. The big log home was blanketed in snow, with smoke curling out of the two-story brick chimney. Part of Thea longed for the storybook life that had to go along with living in such a house. But she’d promised her mother when she was ten—right before her mother left—that she’d make something of herself.
Thea retreated to the kitchen and sank into a spindle-backed chair that felt unsteady enough to be an antique, her notes in piles next to her laptop, her study plan tacked to the wall. She needed to be reviewing her advanced technology notes. She should have reviewed them two days ago. She swung her foot, causing a ripple from the bells she’d attached to her shoes. According to her grandmother, vibrant noise was supposed to keep her spirits up, because the light notes reminded her to believe in sunshine and happily-ever-afters, of dreams being achieved. The sound didn’t help. She couldn’t focus on her studies.
The kitchen table was adorned with a deep brown crocheted doily. The hardwood floor was dark wood, as were the cabinets, and the countertop was brown tile with brown grout. Brown. Dark. Corners. Even the coffeemaker was made of black plastic.
The effect of the room was downright depressing, not at all the homey atmosphere the exterior of the house promised. Thea needed to dive into her notes, but she couldn’t concentrate in this gloomy environment. She pushed back her chair.
“Brown,” she muttered as she moved into the shadowy living room. Brown hardwood floors, brown velour couches—brown, brown, brown, brown, brown. Not a bit of other color in the place. The same neatness and lack of knickknacks in the kitchen pervaded this room—nothing to indicate anything about the man who lived here, his family, his roots. No photos of smiling relatives and friends or mementos of any kind. With the blinds closed in every room, it was more sterile than the furnished apartment she and the twins had been evicted from. And, despite the neatness of the place, everything was coated with a layer of dust.
The house had seemed so promising from the outside. Thea wandered dejectedly down the dimly lit hallway toward the bathroom.
“Deb, is that you?” an elderly, shaky voice called out as Thea passed another dark room.
“It’s me, Thea.” Thea poked her head in the bedroom. Glen, Logan’s maiden aunt, a gray-haired beauty, was sitting in bed knitting something with dark brown yarn.
The coffee mug Thea had filled earlier and a half-eaten piece of apple pie rested on the nightstand.
“Do I know you, dear?” Glen asked in a tremulous voice that sounded close to an elderly Katharine Hepburn.
“I’m taking care of the twins until Logan comes back.”
Lexie had warned Thea that Glen’s short-term memory was unreliable. She might have said nonexistent. Glen didn’t seem to remember Thea at all.
“Now, my boy Logan, he’s a man you can rely on. Cares about folks, he does.” Glen’s blue eyes were dull, faded, and a bit lost. She sighed. “Have I ever told you that I raised Logan and Deb after my sister died?” Glen gestured to her bureau of dark wood. Several pictures blanketed in thick dust were displayed there. It was the first place in the house that Thea had seen pictures.
“No, you haven’t.” Thea stepped nearer for a closer look, carefully brushing away the dust on an old, square-framed picture of two similar-looking young women leaning close, with seventies beehive hairdos and psychedelic orange and lime-green dresses.
“That’s me and my sister, Meg.” Glen shuffled out of bed and stood next to Thea. She smelled of soiled clothing and sweet coffee. This close, Thea could see her complexion had the tawny hue of unwashed skin. “And this is Deb and Logan.”
Thea closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself as anger at the old woman’s neglect threatened to overwhelm her. Lexie, with her own family and responsibilities, couldn’t be blamed, but the absent Logan McCall could. Already, Thea was thinking about what needed to be done—linens washed, everything dusted, swept and vacuumed, and Glen needed a bath, along with a complete brushing of her hair and teeth.
Thea drew in a steadying breath before peering at the photo Glen indicated. Logan wore a tuxedo and Deb a princess-style wedding dress. Two impeccably groomed blond heads leaned close together, both sporting picture-perfect smiles. Their expressions were so alike…
“They’re twins,” Thea said, noting the resemblance.
“Yep,” Glen confirmed. “Runs in our family thicker than the plague. Meg was my twin.” Her hand stroked the picture of the two women, seeming to tremble more with each breath she took.
Thea took Glen’s arm in case she collapsed. “Are you all right?”
The old woman nodded with a sniff. “Doc says my asthma medication gives me the shakes. Can’t complain. Well, I could complain, but what good would it do me?” She returned to the bed.
Glen’s face seemed deathly pale in the shadowy bedroom. Thea thought Glen could use more than some occasional light. Giving in to impulse, Thea spun the plastic handle on the blinds to let sunshine stream through the window.
Glen frowned. “Logan doesn’t like them open.”
“Why not?” Thea couldn’t understand why Logan would want to keep this sweet old lady in the dark.
“Sometimes it’s easier not to look.” Glen waved a hand at the bureau again. “Those blond beauties in the back are Deb’s little girls—Tess and Hannah.”
When it seemed Glen was waiting for a reaction to the girls, Thea obligingly leaned in for a closer look. The twins were younger, sporting bright bathing suits and smiles. Everything about the girls in the picture sparkled with energy and happiness. Thea longed to see them that way again.
Glen settled back against the pillows. “They light up this house.”
It was comforting to know that the girls had been happy here. Thea hoped they would be again. “I’ll leave you to your crocheting and go check on the girls.”
“I may as well go with you, just in case their room’s not as clean as it should be. I wouldn’t want the girls to get into trouble.” Glen scooted back off the bed. She turned the handle on the blinds to bring the room back to shadows. “Logan prefers the house dark,” she explained again as she shuffled ahead of Thea down the hall.
“It’s neat as a pin,” Glen announced with apparent relief as she paused in the doorway.
Peeking around the door frame into the dimly lit bedroom, Thea had to agree. Like the girls’ room in Seattle, there were no stray shoes, no scattered scrunchies for that long blond hair, no half-dressed Barbies with hair that was frizzed from being carried about in backpacks, cars and pillowcases. The room was as impersonal as the rest of the house, from the quilted pink bedspreads to the white dressers each holding a lamp and a small clock radio.
Thea noticed untouched toys stacked neatly in the closet. Now Hannah sat on the floor playing quietly with Whizzer, while Tess lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
Thea had hoped the girls would thrive in their uncle’s fairy-tale house. But now her heart filled with doubt.
How could she leave them here?
“WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW to make Barbie clothes?” Hannah asked, leaning over Thea’s shoulder while she sat in one of the dull living-room chairs creating a new wardrobe for the two Barbie dolls she’d found in the twins’ closet. “Did your mom teach you?”
Thea paused midstitch, staring into the fire. Her mom hadn’t been supportive of Thea learning any homemaking arts.
“My grandmother taught me. I’ve loved sewing since I was a kid.” Thea remembered her mother looking at her handiwork and saying how those neat stitches meant she’d be a wonderful surgeon one day. All Thea had wanted was for her mom to say her baby doll quilt was beautiful. Thea shied away from the memory. Her mother had never understood Thea, not that she’d had more than ten years to figure her daughter out. The painful memory had Thea reaching for a change of attitude.
“I once met a man who created Barbie ball gowns for a living,” Thea said, glancing at Hannah to gauge her interest in the story. The twins never watched television, which made for long nights. Thea had learned to rely on her knack for telling odd stories to engage the twins and help pass the time.
“A man?” Tess blurted. She sat in the corner of the dark couch, her limbs pulled up tight, her small forehead creased in disbelief.
Glen looked up from her crochet project. Thea had yet to figure out what the older woman was making. It was long and brown, every stitch making it longer and browner.
“A man,” Thea confirmed, wondering briefly when they’d see the elusive Uncle Logan and if he’d be good for the girls.
“Why would a man want to sew?” Hannah reached across Thea’s lap to finger the small red dress, until she saw Thea watching her. With a quick glance at Tess, Hannah drew her hand away, tucking it behind her back.
“People should pick jobs that make them happy,” Thea said, pretending to be intent on finishing Barbie’s hem, while trying to ignore the rising panic that she should be studying if she ever wanted to pass her exams. She couldn’t even propose a dissertation topic until she received a passing grade on both her written and oral exams. She shook her foot, eliciting a soft jingle. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Hannah?”
Hannah shrugged, looking at Tess, then stared at the fire. Thea was convinced that the two shared an unspoken bond. Neither would get over her grief without the other. And Tess wasn’t done grieving.
“I always wanted to be one of those secret agents, with the slinky dress, spiked heels and a real kick-ass gun,” Glen spoke up, rearranging her yarn chain in her lap. “Only Eldred came along and I didn’t think I could leave Silver Bend.”
Assuming Eldred had been Glen’s beau, Thea smiled. “It’s nice to dream big. How about you, Tess? Any plans for the future?”
Instead of answering, Tess got up and left the room.
AS HE DROVE HOME toward Silver Bend, Logan McCall ignored the streaks of golden light peeking over the horizon. A new day may be dawning, but it would be the same gray, colorless day that he’d faced yesterday and the day before that.
He drove in silence up the long, steep grade before he reached Silver Bend, passing the ramshackle, abandoned house where his parents had died. Where his father had killed his mother.
In that house, he’d learned how low a man could sink when ruled by a hot temper regularly fueled by alcohol. In that house, he’d learned that the only person he could depend on was his twin sister, Deb. Together, they’d survived the verbal abuse and physical beatings. When they’d left, Logan vowed he’d never have a family of his own.
Deb, lucky enough not to have the gene that carried their father’s destructive temper, had lived an almost normal life, married and produced two girls Logan adored, only to die much too soon. Burdened with his father’s shameful legacy—a fiery temper—Logan couldn’t trust himself to honor Deb’s request and be the girls’ guardian.
What if he lost his temper or did something stupid? Like go on a drunken binge. Or get so blitzed he wouldn’t know who he was hitting or why.
Logan wiped a hand over his face.
No. He didn’t know how to be a father. It was best that Tess and Hannah were being raised by someone else. Even if Wes wasn’t the best father around—he sure as hell hadn’t been the best husband—he had to be better at it than Logan.
