gave in on this one small urge concerning Matt Logan, she would cave in on the important stuff, too, and she couldn’t afford to.
She rolled to her side and stared into the darkness. Dear heavens, how would she get through the next few weeks and survive? How could she stand being in the same house with him, when she wanted to feed his carcass to the turkey buzzards that populated the woods behind Amanda’s house?
Impelled by her lack of anger at the man, she bolted upright. Had she totally lost her mind? One touch and she’d been charmed again. Why had fate deemed that she should have men in her life that only knew how to hurt? Other women had heroes. So far, all Honey had were the throwaways. Well, she swore for the thousandth time, Danny would not turn out to be one of them.
To reinforce her anger, she rattled off a mental laundry list of all the reasons she had to detest Matt Logan. Because of Matt, she’d had to stand alone against her father’s wrath. Because of Matt, she’d been too heartbroken to fight her father and had ended up enduring six years of hell as Stan Logan’s wife, just so Frank Kingston could hold his head up in town. Because of Matt, Jesse’s rage with their father had forced her half brother to storm from their house, and she’d lost another faux hero. Because of Matt, she’d had to struggle to raise her son as a decent human being, with values and a sense of responsibility. Because of Matt her heart lay dead in her chest.
And as if he hadn’t done enough to make her life miserable, Matt’s return to Bristol had aroused the memories of a self-centered, uncaring father who had run his family with a tyrannical hand.
She sniffed the air experimentally. At times like this, when the pain of what her father had done to her returned, raw and burning, she imagined she could smell cigarette smoke. Since no one in Amanda’s house smoked, Honey knew it wasn’t real, just her pain manifesting itself in her imagination. But even knowing it was not real, fear of opening her eyes and finding herself back in her father’s house and under his rule, seeped through her.
The smell brought with it other things: memories of the night she’d found her father sitting alone in a dark room, smoking, while his wife—her and Emily’s mother—lay in bed waiting. His silent presence had seemed to fill the big house. The red glow on the tip of his cigarette was the only visible sign that he was there in body, if not in mind.
For a long time Honey had stood there, just outside the door, wondering where his thoughts had taken him, willing him to allow her to reach beyond the icy barrier around his heart. When she couldn’t, she’d credited her failure to being less than adequate in his eyes. She’d cried herself to sleep that night and innumerable nights after.
It took years for her to understand that her father’s hell was of his own making. That neither she nor Emily nor their mother had caused it. But they’d all paid for it with his lack of understanding and his angry silences.
She recalled how alone she’d felt back then. When Jesse, her half brother, had come to live with them after his mother’s death, they’d hit it off quite well. They hadn’t been terribly close, just intuitive about each other’s needs. Honey had thought she’d finally found a champion, but she’d soon realized that the sullen child felt about as much at home in the Kingston house as she did. Then Jesse walked out in a rage, and another of her heroes donned the tarnished armor of a fallen knight.
But despite the disappointments she’d suffered in those around her—her father’s iron fist, Jesse’s self-absorption, Matt’s desertion, Stan’s immaturity—Honey had emerged a stronger person. She came to realize that she and she alone controlled her happiness, and that heroes existed only in movies and novels.
She shook away the memories and lay back against the pillows. Being a pragmatic person, she couldn’t go on fooling herself. She knew what had robbed her of a night’s sleep, and it wasn’t only the ghosts from her past. She’d learned to live with them long ago. Neither was it seeing Matt again. After years of practice, she’d become an expert at handling the residual feelings around Matt that surfaced from time to time.
Deep in her soul, she knew that her apprehension stemmed from more than the tiny spark of excitement that seemed to grow at the very idea of coming face-to-face with the man she’d once loved. The source of her growing fear generated far more serious consequences than merely meeting an old flame after seven years.
“MATT’S HERE, you know.”
At Amanda’s words Honey’s hands stilled. Carefully, before she dropped it, she placed the glass of water Amanda had used to take her morning medication on the night table. Should she tell Amanda she knew? That he’d been in her bedroom last night?
Amanda chuckled from her bed and saved Honey the trouble of coming to a decision. “I heard him crawling up the rose trellis last night, just as if he were back in high school.” She looked pointedly at Honey. “He came right through your room. Didn’t you hear him?”
As if she hadn’t heard the question, Honey quickly carried the pill bottles into the bathroom before Amanda detected the truth in her expression. She placed the bottles in the medicine cabinet, then leaned on the sink for support.
Lifting her face, she stared at her white complexion in the mirror. She had to stop this right now. Matt was here. Matt would be here for an indeterminate length of time. She had to pull herself together before she went downstairs and came face-to-face with him. She turned on the faucet, scooped up a handful of cold water and splashed it on her face. She could do this.
Determination in place, spine ramrod straight, she patted the water from her skin with one of Amanda’s fluffy towels, then returned to the bedroom. “Are you ready to get dressed for breakfast?”
Pulling the lilac, quilted coverlet higher on her body, Amanda shook her head. “I’m still a bit tired. I think I’ll be decadent this morning and steal a few more hours sleep. Six-thirty is an obscenely indecent hour to ask anyone to get out of bed.”
“But what about Matt?”
“I’m sure you can entertain him for me, dear. Just make my apologies and tell him I’ll see him at lunch.”
The idea of entertaining Matt in any way sent butterflies careening around Honey’s stomach, but concern for her mother-in-law helped her ignore them. Amanda was traditionally an early riser. Honey had never heard her complain about the early hour before. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine, just a bit tired.” Amanda waved her hand at Honey, then snuggled down and closed her eyes. “You go ahead. Danny will be up soon and wanting you to have breakfast with him.”
Danny!
Honey had totally forgotten that Danny would be going down for breakfast soon. She moved quickly to the doorway, turned off the light, then closed the door behind her. Hurrying down the hallway, she passed the spare room, noting the still-closed door. Thank goodness. Maybe Matt had decided to sleep in as well.
ENJOYING THE SILENCE of the early morning hours, Matt sipped his coffee and stared out the large dining room windows overlooking the vast expanse of lawn fronting his aunt’s house. A mangy orange cat wandered aimlessly across the grass. Matt wondered if the animal had a home or, like him, just wandered from house to house looking for the next meal. But that had changed for Matt as soon as he’d arrived at Aunt Amanda’s.
He had always felt at home here. When things had gotten beyond bearing at his house, Aunt Amanda had opened her arms to him and filled the void left by a mother who’d died when he was a small child and a father who found so much lacking in his small son. Matt had found love here with Amanda and Tess. Love and family and continuity. Things that had been painfully missing in his own home.
He smiled. Was it any wonder that when he decided to come home, he’d called Amanda? From all reports at The Diner last night, his father had done little to keep the place up after Matt left. It didn’t surprise him. His father had mourned the loss of his wife and Matt’s older brother deeply, and had waited many years for the release of death. For Kevin Logan, the house that should have been a home had become nothing more than a way station on that journey.
Matt