Twin Blessings and Toward Home: Twin Blessings / Toward Home. Carolyne Aarsen

wait out here for you then,” Logan said, handing the bill to the girls. “And I expect to see the change.”

      Brittany and Bethany flashed him demure smiles, shared a grin and ran into the building.

      Without looking at Logan, Sandra turned and walked up the hill overlooking the valley, then sat down, determined to put some space between her and Logan.

      But to her surprise, Logan followed her and sat beside her. She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She resented the awkwardness he created in her, and she tried not to let it show.

      The best defense is offense, she thought.

      “So, you aren’t chafing to get back to your work,” she said, her heightened reaction to him giving her voice an unexpected bite.

      Logan leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. He looked over the valley below them. He seemed surprisingly at ease.

      “I can do this,” he said, tucking his chin on his chest. “Even though I do need to get back to work.”

      “Ah, yes. Uncle Logan the upwardly mobile man.” Sandra couldn’t stop the little gibe. It seemed better to put him on the defensive rather than to look at him and notice the faint wave to his hair, how it curled over his ears.

      The way his sudden smile eased the harsh line of his features.

      “Do you ever run out of smart remarks?” he asked.

      “I think life is too serious to be taken seriously,” she replied.

      Logan let out a short laugh. But he didn’t answer her question.

      Note to self, she thought, biting her lip. No more smart comments. At least not to Logan Napier.

      She wasn’t usually this flip. Usually she could carry on a normal, intelligent conversation, but Logan’s calm self-possession touched a nerve.

      At any rate, she had better learn to put a curb on her tongue if she wanted to stay in Logan’s good graces and keep this job.

      She looked over the sweep of the valley. The hills here were softened, smoothed by the wind that swept across the open plains of Montana and Saskatchewan and sifted around this oasis in the prairie. She sighed lightly, waiting for the utter peace of the place to slowly soothe the tension she felt sitting beside Logan. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore his strong presence.

      And he seemed content to just sit, saying nothing.

      Once again, his silence unnerved her. In spite of her resolution, she sought to find something, anything to ease the discomfort he created.

      “So how long have the girls been living with you?” she asked, resting her chin on her knees.

      Logan plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. “About a year and a half.”

      “Did they come right after their parents died?”

      Logan nodded, still looking away.

      “That must have been difficult,” she said quietly.

      “It was. At first. I think kids grieve differently than adults do. They dive in deep and hard, but they come out of it quicker. Their sadness is different….” Logan stopped, twirling the grass faster.

      “Different than what?” Sandra prompted.

      He looked at her then. “Different than adults, I was going to say.”

      “Their mother was your sister, wasn’t she?” Sandra asked, holding his steady gaze, wondering at their relationship.

      “She was my only sibling. Flighty. Strange. But still my sister.”

      For a moment Sandra envied him even that. “How did you get along?”

      Logan pushed himself to a sitting position. “Pretty good. When I was younger we depended heavily on each other. We switched schools so many times the only person we knew in school was each other.”

      “Your parents traveled that much?”

      Logan laughed, but it held no humor. “Endlessly. Every few months we would pack up and be gone again. My father died a while ago, but my mother still travels a lot.”

      Sandra sighed, thinking of her upbringing. “Sounds kind of neat.”

      “I’m sure to you it would,” Logan said dryly. He got up, held her gaze a moment, then looked down the hill.

      “Here come the girls,” he said, brushing off his pants.

      And once again Sandra felt as if she had been weighed and found wanting.

      And once again it bothered her.

      Chapter Five

      Logan watched as the girls dawdled up the hill toward them. He was about to call to them when they suddenly turned and ran to the visitors’ center. He started off after them.

      “What are they doing?” he heard Sandra ask as she caught up to him.

      Logan knew all too well what they were up to and decided it would be better if everything was out in the open.

      “My dear nieces can’t stand the idea that I don’t currently have a girlfriend,” he said dryly, glancing at her. “They’re avoiding us because they have grand visions of playing matchmaker.”

      Sandra laughed.

      To his chagrin, Logan felt deflated at her reaction. “What can I say,” he said, wishing he had her quick, glib tongue. “They’re young.”

      “Some day they’ll grow up, Logan Napier.”

      Logan sighed. “I pray for it daily.”

      “Do you?”

      He turned, looking fully at her. “Yes. I do.”

      Sandra’s gaze flicked sideways then back. “I remember you said that you go to church.”

      “Why does that always come out with a faint note of mockery?” he asked as he reached the sidewalk at the bottom of the hill.

      “Like I told you before, I’m not a church person.”

      “Why not?” He stopped, turning to face her. He wanted to know more about this part of her life. After all, she was teaching his nieces.

      “It’s full of hypocrites,” she said airily.

      “That’s the oldest excuse in the book.”

      Sandra’s dark brown eyes met his, unable to conceal the sparkle that lit at his challenge. “What book?”

      “Pardon me?” Logan asked.

      “What book is that the oldest excuse in? Is there a book somewhere full of excuses? And if there is, how do you know it’s the oldest one? What if it’s the newest?” Sandra threw out the questions one after the other, a smile curving her lips.

      In spite of his exasperation with her, Logan laughed. “I’m not even going to start a battle of words with you,” he said. “But I will challenge your hypocrite comment. You have to admit that using that excuse is pretty lame. There are hypocrites in every organization. Where there are people, there are failings.”

      Sandra cocked her head as if thinking. “Okay. I’ll concede that point. Begrudgingly,” she added, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t want to let you off too easy.”

      “So why don’t you go to church?” Logan asked.

      “I believe in God, Logan. Just in case that’s what you’re really wondering. I just don’t believe that church fills any need of mine. I prefer to worship God in nature.”

      Logan felt a stab of disappointment. He didn’t know what he had hoped for, but her answer brushed away some faint hope he had harbored. A hope that