Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 Read online

  “Some of the items are unwieldy. Hard to control.”

  “I see.” She didn’t know if she did or not. “Who for?”

  “I’m freelance. Like you.”

  There was definitely something about Logan that didn’t ring true. She’d heard enough lies to be cautious. She seldom took a man’s word at face value and because she could read lips, she could see what they said about her when they were out of hearing range. A man’s uncensored words were sometimes not pleasant to see. Being able to lip-read had given her more than one rude awakening as to a man’s true motives.

  Did he have a wife and family hidden somewhere?

  “And your boyfriend?” he asked

  “I don’t have one at the present.” She had had plenty, but no one at the moment. They seldom lasted past a few months and Alison was usually the one who ended the relationship. So far it had been impossible to find a man who was sincerely interested in her as a person and wasn’t just looking for a glamorous date to show off.

  “Are the men all blind around here?” Logan blurted out, looking astonished.

  “No, that’s the problem.” Sometimes Alison felt it would be easier if they were blind. Maybe then they would see her and not her body. She sometimes wished she were smaller or a little bit chunky.

  For some reason a beautiful woman was intimidating to the type of man she wanted to attract and a challenge to the type she didn’t want. She considered her beauty to be a hindrance, not an asset.

  Her mother was a woman of remarkable beauty, whose first three marriages had appeared happy, but each of which had ended with sudden and devastating betrayal. Alison hadn’t seen enough of the fourth man to know if it would last or not.

  “Do you ever sign for TV?” Logan asked. “The program directors would jump at a chance to have you on.”

  Alison stiffened. She was glad she had finished eating.

  She had felt interested in Logan when she first met him, but his remark flattened her emotions. Couldn't men see beyond a woman's looks, ever?

  She was used to men looking her over, and looking again. In high school the boys had marked her passage with low cat calls and kissing sounds. She’d steeled herself to ignore them; to dismiss them from her mind.

  The waiter brought over their bill and Logan stood up to pay. Alison rose and moved toward the door as he handed over the money and signed a paper.

  Why had he made that remark about being on TV and spoiled everything? Her day had turned flat again, with all the enjoyment gone. Meeting him had seemed so promising. So much fun. And then he had to go and say something like that.

  “I have to leave now,” she said as he rejoined her. “Thank you for the meal. I enjoyed it.” Her words sounded stiff and trite to her, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

  “I’d like to write to you. Would you mind exchanging addresses? Or email?”

  Alison hesitated. She really didn’t want anything more to do with him. “Give me your address. I’ll think about it.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced around and found a small match book, shook his head over its size, and instead picked up a folded brown paper bag from near the cash register. Taking out a pen he wrote on it and handed it to Alison.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said.

  “Sure.” She proceeded him outside. “You’ll need to turn your car in, so I’ll say goodbye now. Thank you for the meal. It was nice meeting you.” Getting into her car she drove away, waving as she left.

  Alison didn’t want a relationship with a shifty-eyed man. Although it wasn’t his fault she was so disappointed. Perhaps her expectations were too high.

  2

  Logan watched Alison drive away, fighting down the urge to follow her. She wasn’t going to call him. He knew it as certain as he knew anything.

  What had gone wrong? It was a completely new experience for him, having a woman back away. Everything had seemed to be going great, when suddenly she had withdrawn, becoming cold and distant. Was it something he’d said?

  It wasn’t the reaction he was used to. With his name and his job and as easily recognized as he was, he had trouble evading women. The more persistent ones made an out and out nuisance of themselves. Even the ones with a more subtile approach advanced instead of retreated.

  Had she noticed the waiter ask him for his autograph when he went to pay the bill?

  He stood alone in the Seattle sunshine, shuffling his feet, confused and uncertain. Like iron to a magnet, he’d been instantly attracted to Alison, and now it seemed she was not attracted to him. Bummer!

  He could just give up and go home, but he knew he wouldn’t let it rest until he’d found out why she didn’t want to see him again.There had to be some way to contact her. Some way to see her, or talk to her, to try to get past whatever bothered her.

  If he lived in Seattle, he would have found out where she lived and tried to visit.

  He still could. Maybe. If he could figure out an approximate address, to go with a name in a phone book...

  He just might be able to do something like that, right now.

  Stepping back into the fish market, he asked the waiter/owner if he knew where Tiger Lake was.

  “No. No lake of that name around here,” the man answered, wiping down his counter. “Unless there’s one on Tiger Mountain, out by Issaquah.”

  “It’s a small lake, almost a puddle, within a few miles of here,” Logan added desperately. If the man didn’t know about it, Logan decided he would drive the streets around the exit she said she had missed, up and down, until he found it, then look for her car. He refused to lose her this early.

  “Oh.” The elderly storekeeper brightened visibly. “You must mean Lyon’s Lake.”

  “Yes. That’s it.” He didn’t usually forget things like that. Just proof how much meeting her had affected him.

  “Sure, Mr. Logan. I’ll show you.” The man hunted eagerly through a stack of papers and pulled out a tattered city map. “It’s right here. Go north to 130th and turn left.” He put his finger next to the spot.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anything else I can do? Anything.”

  “No. You’ve helped immensely.” Logan handed the map back, having memorized the area as best he could.

  “You can have it, Mr. Logan.” The man was falling all over himself to please. “I’m sorry it’s in such bad condition.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks again. Here, buy yourself a new one.” He handed the man a twenty. The information had been worth much more than that to Logan. His fame had some perks, including the fact that people would do almost anything for him.

  “Thank you, sir. Glad to help.”

  “Thank you.” There was no time for him to search for Alison’s place and still make the plane. But he could at least check out Lyon’s Lake. His team had played against Seattle last night—a preseason practice game—and Logan and a few others had stayed over Saturday to enjoy the Seafair Celebration taking place.

  He opened his cell phone and called his teammate.

  “Hey, Jake. Take my gear with you. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  “Where are you?”

  “North of Seattle. I had an incident on the freeway—”

  “You all right?” Jake’s concern went beyond a wide receiver worrying about his quarterback. The two were the best of friends as well as teammates.

  “Yes. Just delayed.”

  “You can tell me later then. Gotta run.”

  Logan’s body still ached from the pounding he’d received during the game. Coach Dobb had been trying out some players to determine the final cut...and the men who were supposed to guard the quarterback hadn’t done their jobs. He’d been sacked four times by the Seattle defense before the coach put in the second string and set him out for the rest of the game, but not before someone’s finger came through his face mask, just missing his eye.

  It was after games like that that he wondered what he was doing, at age thirty-two, still playing professional fo
otball.Each year he felt the pressure more. Each year he found it took longer to recover.

  Yet he loved the game, enough to pay the price to play it. And the rewards were enormous for a first-string quarterback.

  With the map on his dashboard, Logan drove the half-mile to the lake. As he traveled, Alison’s face floated before him along with the varied visuals he had absorbed during the short time they had been together.

  All his impressions of her were moving ones—the flowing swing of her red-gold hair, the way she tapped her fingers while considering the menu, the way she walked and talked and used her hands. Her hands spoke when she spoke, unconsciously signing words. They were graceful hands and expressive, and he had found himself watching their rapid movement, reading them as much as listening to the sound of her voice.

  She was outgoing, friendly, yet had that lady-like reserve that attracted him. If only she hadn’t backed off. He had to find out why.

  He drove in and out of the apartment complexes next to the lake hoping he wouldn’t have to expand his search, when he spotted Alison’s car with its dented rear bumper. The parking space had no number on it, but he would be able to find the apartments again when he had more time.

  He tore off a small corner of the map and jotted the address down carefully.

  Logan smiled, satisfied, as he put the address in his wallet. It had taken him only twenty minutes. When he finished with football, he could always go into detective work. He climbed back into the Jetta and headed for the airport.

  Returning to her apartment, Alison threw the brown paper bag at the wastebasket. It missed, but she left it there while she put her purse away.

  Her flatmate, Robyn Duvall, followed her into her bedroom, humming a song.

  “You sound happy,” Alison said, recognizing the tune as one from the Hugh van de Veld collection. “All packed and ready to leave?”

  “Of course. I’ve been saving for college for several years. I’m looking forward to Virginia Tech. And you don’t sound as depressed as you usually are, after visiting your mom.”

  “I was when I left there.” Alison frowned, biting her lip. “I get so I never want to visit.”

  Robyn sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never mentioned this to you before, but I feel I should before I leave.”

  “What?”

  “I don't know if you can see it, but your mother competes with every woman who comes around, including you.”

  Alison set her purse on the dresser while mulling over the statement. She had never tried to analyze her mother’s actions. “I know she used to chat up my boyfriends. I stopped wanting to have them meet her.”

  “She tears you down whenever she gets an opportunity. Haven't you noticed?” Robyn asked.

  “Well...no.” She paused to think as images, times, occasions flashed through her mind. “Well, sort of.”

  Robyn’s words had thrown her at first, but she could see the truth in it. “She used to dress me in the most ugly outfits. Remember that? Kids would make fun of me.”

  Robyn nodded.

  It had made Alison feel so worthless. “When I got old enough to choose—and buy— my own clothes, she never approved of my taste. But the kids at school seemed to like my new look, so I thought she just didn't know what was in style.”

  Robyn shook her head. “I didn’t recognize it when we were in grade school together. Or high school either for that matter. But when she dropped by the other day to see you, she tried to tear me down and Ryan cut her off short. He told her he didn’t want to hear any of it. I don't have half her looks and she still felt threatened.”

  Alison assessed her friend’s features impartially. Robyn and her twin brother Ryan had the same color hair and shared the same generous mouth, but otherwise Robyn was all female. “There's nothing wrong with your looks. But it could be because you have youth on your side. She's losing it.”

  “You just need to stop listening to her. It would be good for your brother to move out, too. Urge him to get a place of his own and hire a caretaker. He'll never get ahead if he stays at home.”

  “I agree. But I doubt if he’ll listen to me.”

  Robyn got up and left the room and Alison followed her out. Spotting the bag on the floor, Robyn picked it up and looked at the information written there.

  “Who’s this?” Robyn asked, waving the bag.

  “Some guy I ran into on the freeway.”

  Robyn glanced over in alarm. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No. Not that way.” Alison explained what had happened. “So I’ve already eaten.”

  Robyn looked at the bag, then back at Alison. "That’s a new way to meet. You going to call him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t live around here. But it was funny, the way the cars stayed behind us.” Alison smiled, remembering the way the drivers had honked and waved.

  “You know, you should start dating again. I know that last guy was a double jerk, but maybe if you joined a club or something, you could meet someone that way. Get to know a bunch of men without dating them. Find some common activity."

  "Maybe I could take a welding class."

  "What?"

  "Making art thingies."

  "What brought that on? I’ve known you your whole life, and you hate crafts.”

  “I just—”

  The door buzzer sounded.

  “Ryan Duvall.” His voice sounded strange over the intercom.

  Robyn hurried over to let her twin into the building. She threw open the door as he ran up the stairs. "I've got all my things packed."

  “Great.” Ryan stepped inside and nodded ‘Hello’ to Alison.

  He looked so much better since his marriage to Angie. Plus he had lost that hesitancy he used to have around women.

  "You look eager to go," he said to Robyn.

  "Yes. Angie's told me so much about Virginia Tech. She thinks the Sisters of Spirit group is still going strong there. I want to go for two years at least. I've enough money saved up."

  "You're smart. No student debt when you get finished."

  "Unlike Ellen. She told me how much she owed."

  "Jared took care of that right away when he married her," he said. “But not everyone can marry a rich man.”

  "And if the guy you marry happens to have college debt too, you're in bad shape," Alison said, joining the conversation. “I kept mine to a minimum by going to the community college here. I took my first year while I was a senior in high school, so only had to pay for two years of college. And I never bought any textbook I could read online or in the library.”

  “How is their interpreter program?” Ryan asked.

  “One of the best in the nation, but it does require three years to complete it.”

  “Hey, Alison ran into a man on the freeway,” Robyn said, then grinned at Ryan’s worried expression, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Tell him, Alison.”

  When she finished, Ryan said, “Tell me again. Just what did he say that got you riled?”

  “He wondered if I’d ever signed on TV.”

  “That was all?” Ryan looked puzzled.

  “He said the program directors would jump at the chance to have me on.” She shook her head in disgust, thinking again at how he’d said the words.

  “That was a compliment.”

  She frowned at Ryan. “It didn’t feel like one.”

  “It was. He was trying to pay you a compliment. The poor guy. He probably didn’t know what happened.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She had heard so many lines from so many men. All empty. Ryan hadn’t heard how it sounded.

  Ryan shook his head. “You’re too thin-skinned, Alison. Guys have a hard enough time trying to figure out what to say to a woman when they’re trying to get to know her. Like walking uphill in deep sand. You turn the sand into quicksand.”

  She shrugged, unconcerned with making things difficult. “They always have to tal
k about how pretty I am.” She felt petulant.

  Ryan laughed, shaking his head. He evidently thought she was being unreasonable. “It’s a fact. Get over it.”

  “You never mention it.”

  “I don’t need to. One, I’ve known you ever since your Mom dressed you in those ugly clothes she’d get at the Value store. I think she deliberately tried to find the worst things possible. You just outshone the clothes with both your looks and personality. And two, most importantly, I am now happily married and I don’t have to impress any woman except Angie.”

  His sister laughed along with Alison. “She’s really great, Ry.”

  He nodded. “That she is, Rob. He looked back at Alison. “Now that Robyn is taking off to school, will you keep this unit, or move to a smaller one?”

  “The lease runs through December. I’ll know by then. I might see if Chantal will want to move in with me. You’ve met her, haven’t you, Ryan. My closest friend, next to Robyn.”

  “The woman who does the window decorations in downtown Seattle? She’s tall, black, good-looking?”

  “Yes.”

  “I got to know her when I investigated some computer security problems they were having at one of the stores. She recommended me on Robyn’s say so.”

  “That’s her.”

  “What will you do about her watching football all the time?”

  “You’re right.” She frowned, discouraged. Chantal was an avid fan.

  Ryan shook his head at her facial expressions. “That’s another hang-up you need to get over.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “So, are you going to call Logan?” Robyn asked. “He can’t call you, you know.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Ryan shrugged and picked up one of Robyn’s boxes of household items she was going to store at their parents’ house. The three loaded them in the pickup, then came back for her suitcases.

  Robyn gave Alison a hug. “I’ll call.”

  “Do that.”

  “And you call.” Ryan said.

  Did he mean for her to call Robyn? Or Logan? She watched them go down the stairwell.

  She closed the door and locked it. She and Robyn had been together for five years. Now Robyn’s room was absolutely bare. She had even stored her bed and favorite chair.