Garden. The local nursery, owned and run by Jack Dillan, had been named for Jack’s daughter, Hope, the girl Logan had once loved. He and Jack had been doing business together for years, despite the painful breakup that had gone on between Logan and Hope. Painful at least for him, because you had to love someone to be able to feel the pain that comes with losing them.
I don’t love you. Hope’s blurted-out declaration that day so long ago still rang in his ears. How had he been so wrong about her? About them? Shaking the ever-troubling past from his mind, he climbed into his truck and set off down the narrow dirt drive that fronted the three-bedroom log cabin his brothers had helped him build a few years before.
His gaze drifted upward as he peered out the front windshield, taking in the billowy dark clouds gathering in the morning sky above him. He prayed the rain would hold off until he’d picked up and delivered the trees he’d ordered for a job he was finishing up. Thankfully, the rain was expected to clear the area in a day or so, and temperatures were supposed to move up from the high fifties to the low seventies.
Thunder rumbled loudly in the distance as he turned off the main road and drove through the open gates of Hope’s Garden. “Hold off just a little longer,” Logan pleaded, casting a glance skyward. Loading and unloading trees in the cold and wet made for a miserable day.
A large greenhouse sat off to the left of the winding drive while rows of potted shrubs and trees lined the land to his right. Up ahead, the building that housed the checkout counter, and various fertilizers and assorted plant food options, looked an even brighter white against the darkening backdrop of that morning’s sky. To its right sat two more greenhouses, which held a large selection of potted annuals and perennials and thick, green ferns.
Parking near the entrance, Logan zipped up his jacket. raising its collar to protect himself against the bite of the spring wind gusting outside. Large drops of rain began to splatter across the windshield as he threw open the door, jumped down and made a sprint for the building’s entrance.
So much for beating the storm.
He hoped Jack had a fresh pot of coffee going. He could use a cup and he knew Jack would gladly offer.
Despite the unexpected and painful breakup he’d gone through with Hope nine years before, he and Jack had remained close. His friend had been every bit as stunned by the breakup as Logan had been. He’d fully expected them to marry after college and start working on a family of their own. When that hadn’t happened, Jack had given Logan a reason to get up every morning. He’d encouraged him to take what he’d learned while working for him at the nursery and start his own landscaping business.
Logan had taken the suggestion to heart, using his passion for trees and plants and flowers to build up a business that had taken root and had long since become one of the most sought-after landscaping service companies in the county. Logan would be the first to admit that he wouldn’t be where he was today without the unwavering trust and faith Jack had placed in his ability to start a business of his very own.
“Hello!” he called out as he pulled the glass entry door closed behind him.
Country music blared from the back office.
Grinning, Logan called out a little louder, “What’s a man gotta do to get some service around here?”
When Jack didn’t reply, he shook his head with a chuckle. His friend really did need to consider having his hearing checked. They’d made jokes about it in the recent months, but, in all seriousness, how did he expect to hear his customers when they came in with the radio blasting the way it was?
Logan rounded the counter and made his way down the short hallway to Jack’s office. One they had spent many a morning in before starting their workdays, talking over a cup of coffee and an occasional donut if Logan had time to run into town to pick some up for them on his way.
Reaching the office, he noticed the door had been left slightly ajar. The heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted out into the hallway to join the music. Eager for a cup, Logan stepped into the room.
He’d no sooner opened his mouth to ask if his friend was trying to burst both of their eardrums with the radio cranked up so loud when his gaze dropped down from the vacant desk chair to the unmoving form on the floor beside the old oak desk.
“Jack!” Logan gasped, his gut twisting as he took in the sight of Hope’s father lying motionless on the cool, hardwood floor a few feet away. The radio lay on its side next to him along with an upturned aloe plant and the clay pot and soil it had once been nestled in.
Dear Lord, please don’t let Jack be gone.
* * *
The ringing of her cell phone had Hope Dillan stepping away from the filing cabinet where she’d been pulling several client files for the lunch meeting she had scheduled with the rest of Complete Solar Management’s marketing team that afternoon. Reaching into her desk, she dug inside her purse for her phone, wondering if there had been a change in place or time for their meeting.
A glance at the screen displayed a number she wasn’t familiar with. Bringing the phone to her ear, she said, “Hope Dillan speaking.”
“Hope, it’s Logan.”
She froze, anxiety immediately filling her. How had he gotten her cell phone number? Surely, her daddy wouldn’t have gone against her wishes and given it to him. Not after all these years. Years she’d spent doing everything she could to avoid crossing paths with Logan Cooper. Even changing her cell phone number, because Logan wasn’t a quitter and she wasn’t as strong as she’d like to be when it came to cutting all of her heartstrings where he was concerned.
Logan was the kind of man who, when he loved someone, did it with his whole heart. Even after she’d gone and broken it. If only things could have been different. If only God hadn’t decided to shatter her dreams. Their dreams.
“This really isn’t a good time,” she managed, her eyes tearing up as she spoke the words. She prayed she sounded less affected by his unexpected call than she felt at that moment. Because she was anything but unaffected. Her furiously pounding heart was proof enough of that.
The last time they’d spoken had been after the tornado struck Braxton, taking with it his parents, his sister-in-law and their neighbor, Mr. Timmons. She’d returned home for the funerals. How could she not? His family had been like her own.
“I had no choice,” he said. There was no missing the unsteadiness to his voice.
“Logan, we—”
“This isn’t about us,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m calling about Jack.”
“Daddy?” she said, her sense of panic shifting as his words settled in. “What about Daddy?” she demanded anxiously. She had just spoken with him the evening before and he had been his usual teasing self.
“He’s had some sort of spell.”
“What sort of spell?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “I stopped by to pick up an order and found him on the floor in his office.”
A sob caught in her throat.
“I’ll know more once I get to the hospital,” he said.
The hospital?
“The ambulance just left,” he continued. “They’re taking him to County General as we speak. I’m headed there as soon as I close up the nursery.”
Hope shut her eyes, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Was he conscious?”
There was a brief hesitation on the other end of the line before Logan replied, “Not when I found him. But he was when they were loading him into the ambulance. He told me not to bother you at work, but I thought you would wanna know.”
“I appreciate your calling,” she said, shaking as she grabbed her purse from the open drawer. Then pushing away from her desk, she shot to her feet. “I’ll