More Than a Memory. Roz Fox Denny

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      Garret wrestled with a million questions only Colleen could answer. One in particular haunted him. But he didn’t know if he was strong enough to hear the blunt truth.

      Deciding to get answers one way or another, he retrieved the clothes his mom had left outside the bathroom door and got dressed. Garret hoped his mother had taken the hint that he preferred to be left alone. He should’ve known better. Meddling was a family art. Indeed, Clare Logan bustled about, bringing order to his kitchen.

      “Hey, boy.” He bent slowly to keep the lingering dizziness at bay, and scrubbed Domino’s head and patted his wiggling backside. “No run today,” Garret said when the dog sat and stared longingly at the leash hanging next to the back door.

      Crossing to the sink, Garret washed his hands before accepting the steaming mug Clare held out to him.

      “I must say you look a lot more presentable than you did when I got here.”

      “I feel fine. You don’t need to babysit me, Ma. I’m going to work as soon as I finish this coffee. It’s good, by the way.”

      She snorted. “Don’t you know by now that flattery won’t get you anywhere with me? You’d say it was good if it was sludge, hoping I’ll hush up and make myself scarce. And I will—eventually. I have chores to do before I join Kellee at our pottery booth,” Clare said, referring to Brian’s wife. Clare, Kellee and Galen’s wife, Sheila, met throughout the year to mix, pour, fire and glaze unique pottery pieces they sold in local stores once a year during the arts and crafts fair. Garret remembered Colleen used to love to help, but her mother constantly complained that the chemicals in the clay would make her fingers too rough for playing her violin.

      Clare broke into Garret’s silent musing. “Your dad is driving to Knoxville today to pick up supplies the community club ordered for the Art Association’s barbecue dance. Ride home with me. You can go along to see he doesn’t overdo the heavy lifting.”

      Garret studied her through the steam rising from his mug. “This is Sean’s morning to volunteer at the firehouse. I can’t leave Brian to handle the pub by himself.”

      “Brian suggested I ask you. He phoned while you were in the shower.”

      “The way he bitches if he’s ever left alone to tend bar and cook for the lunch crowd? What are you guys not telling me, Ma?”

      Guilt pinched Clare’s features as she avoided her son’s dark brown eyes, so like her own. Inspecting her lightly polished nails, she finally caved in. “It’s for your own good, Garret. On her way to work, Trish saw Colleen turning into the high-school parking lot. For whatever reason, it seems she’s determined to poke around town. Maybe she’ll find whatever she’s after and leave at the end of the day.”

      Garret took a swallow of his coffee, which gave him time to process the new information. “She left White Oak Valley before she graduated. Do you think her visit has to do with that?” he muttered, finally setting his mug down. “Nah, any information she needed from the school she could get by phone.”

      “Garret, we were discussing you helping your dad.”

      Yeah, and he’d never hear the end of it if he turned her down. Not that he would. His dad had undergone a triple bypass the previous year, and the boys pitched in with heavy chores whenever possible. “Sure, I’ll go with Dad.” Besides, Garret figured it’d be smart to clear his mind before he talked to Colleen. “Give me a minute to let Domino run around the backyard first. Oh, and top off my coffee, will you? Then we can take off.”

      “Really? Fantastic.” Clare sprang from her chair to get the coffee. “Do you feel like a breakfast roll yet? I used almond flavoring in the glaze just for you.”

      He opened his mouth to refuse, then decided to save his arguments for the battle that was sure to come when his family learned about his plans to confront Colleen—even if he had to follow her to Boston. One way or another, he’d made up his mind that they were going to meet again. Today, he wasn’t up to a skirmish with her or his family, especially considering the way his head split when he whistled Domino back into the house.

      But Garret knew he’d have it out with any or all of the Logans if they interfered with his seeing Colleen. He’d wasted one night trying to numb the shock of learning she was very much alive. Now it was time, as his mother had said earlier, to act like a man. A Logan. Surely she hadn’t forgotten what set Logan men apart from others. They believed in love at first sight and were loyal to that one woman forever.

      There wasn’t much point in inviting another lecture by reminding his mom of that fact, Garret thought as they drove into town. When they arrived, he glanced over at the house where Colleen Drake had once lived.

      So many memories had been woven between them over the years, until his life had been shattered by the news of her death. Only, she hadn’t died, and now she was back. Garret kept circling back to why.

      JO RECOGNIZED the White Oak Valley High School building from the yearbooks she’d found. Hope had faded that she and Colleen weren’t one and the same person. And still it bothered her that driving up to the school evoked no memories beyond the photographs. While she had begun to accept that it was her picture in the yearbooks, and those were her talent awards, she wasn’t able to fathom that she’d hurt Garret Logan. She’d never been close enough to anyone to hurt them.

      Kendra Rowan had volunteered to accompany Jo to the high school. It was only after she walked through the doors and didn’t know where to start asking questions, that Jo wished she had accepted the offer.

      City schools had security guards at the entrances. Here, a person could wander at will. Jo stopped to study trophies in a case that ran the length of the main hall. There were awards for soccer, wrestling, basketball and 4-H ribbons. She looked for Colleen Drake’s name but didn’t find it. The name Logan figured prominently on a number of plaques and trophies. Jo concluded it was a big family.

      In the office she was greeted by a woman working at a computer. “I came across some old yearbooks from this school when I was cleaning out a closet after my mother died. I just wondered if there are any teachers who would’ve taught here eight or nine years ago still on staff. I’d be willing to make an appointment to see someone after school or during a break. I’d really like to talk to them.”

      “Eight or nine years ago? The board offered a really great retirement package four years ago. Most people who were eligible took the offer.”

      “That’s disappointing, but I’m not surprised. Thank you anyway.” Jo had nearly reached the door, when the woman called her back. “Wait. Mr. Rice, our music instructor, came out of retirement at our new principal’s request. I don’t know if he’d be of any help, but he has a prep period that runs for another fifteen minutes. You’re welcome to see if he’s in the music room.”

      Jo’s heart beat faster at that news. “I’ll go straight there. Where is the music room?”

      “It was moved to the annex last year. Take a left out the door and follow the walkway. It’s the brick building in front of the ball field. That made it easier for students going to and from the field for marching-band practice.”

      Some of Jo’s excitement drained as she left the office. From what she’d seen of high-school marching bands in Boston parades, none had violinists. And a small school like this might not have an orchestra. But, as this was her best lead, she followed the walkway to the music room.

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