Page 68 of Embattled Return

Logan nodded, not surprised, and not averse to the idea either. And he wasn’t surprised John knew he was going to accept the job, either. He would be stupid not to.

“Let me show you some of my other toys,” John said grinning as he swung his wheelchair toward the safe to his right.

19

Marigold’s attention was torn between the beautiful boys in front of her and the garage door, where Logan had disappeared almost half an hour ago.

“They’ll be back in a little bit,” Shannon told her, catching her watching.

“I know,” Marigold sighed. “I just worry. That woman was so mad, blaming Logan for everything that happened to her son.”

Shannon sat at the table across from her, a big bowl of applesauce in her hand. The boys saw the treat and began clamoring for the first bite. “You have to imagine how that woman feels, though, seeing the only man that survived the bombing. It was shocking for her, I’m sure. Logan didn’t call or notify her before he went out?”

Marigold shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

“Then it was a total blindside. He maybe could have approached it a little better.”

Yes, she was probably right.

Within two minutes the applesauce was gone. It actually took Shannon longer to clean the boys up with a wet washcloth than it had taken them to eat the snack. She lifted both boys out of the high chairs and let them go. Marigold laughed because they looked so silly, their short little legs moving as fast as their tiny tennis shoes would carry them toward the toy area.

Shannon motioned to the couch and they sat, within eyesight of the boys. “So, you and Logan seem to be hitting it off.”

Marigold grinned, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Yes, we are. I’ll be honest, the first time I saw him I felt something click in me, like something engaged. I’ve never felt anything like it before, Shannon.” She replaced her glasses and looked at the woman she was beginning to consider her friend. “I’ve been in relationships before but never been so invested in the other person’s happiness. It hurt my heart when I heard that woman yelling at Logan, and I wanted to go kick her ass.” Marigold scrubbed the angry tears from her eyes. “And I’m not that kind of woman. I’m pretty chill with everyone, but I wanted to jump out and protect him.”

Shannon nodded in understanding. “I’ve done that before, but you have to remember that he has to fight his own battles. And it might not be as pretty anymore. Mentally, he’s the same and he wants to do everything he used to, but physically he’s changed. They’re not lesser men, though. Let him figure out how to do it.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “I get that. I worry about his mental health, though, too. My mother...” she hesitated, wondering if she should even bring it up.

“What about your mom?” Shannon asked, her voice incredibly kind.

Tears started in Marigold’s eyes, and she couldn’t help but respond to that kindness. As the kids played with their toys, she told Shannon about losing her dad first, then her grandpa and her mom, and her suspicions that her mother had allowed herself to die.

“Oh, dear,” Shannon breathed, leaning close to wrap her arms around Marigold. She took the hug and appreciated it for what it was, but then she pulled back. “So, when he says these offhand things about ending it all, I think I’m a little more sensitive.”

“Possibly,” Shannon agreed, “but wouldn’t you rather be too sensitive than not sensitive enough?”

“Yes, of course. I just... he worries me.”

“And you need to tell him that. Don’t bitch at him, necessarily, just tell him your thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t even realize how often he says something like that.”

That was possible, she supposed.

And she was thinking about it on the way back to Marshall House a little while later. When they entered the kitchen, it was dark, but Nancy was sitting at the table, sipping from her aluminum cup. “There you kids are,” she giggled. “Aren’t you cute together.”

Marigold grinned and crossed to lean against the edge of the table. “How was bingo, tonight, Grandma?”

“Dreadful,” she snapped. “Didn’t win a damn thing. I haven’t won anything since my W.C. passed on.” She peered up at Logan, standing beyond Marigold’s shoulder. “W.C. was my lucky piece. Every night before I went to Bingo I would rub his package.” She made a circular motion with her open hand. “And I would win!”

Marigold giggled. “Wouldn’t that be his money you won, then?”

Grandma waved a hand. “Sometimes I would split it with him, but more often than not he would just tell me to hang onto it. He had his own side deals going to bring in extra money.”

Marigold laughed, her gaze connecting to Logan’s. He was grinning too and shaking his head.

“W.C. sounds like a very cool guy,” he told Nancy.

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “He really was. I miss him dearly. I miss all the silly things we did together, and the meals. I even miss the cross words we had,” she said softly, reaching for her cup. “But I wouldn’t have missed being with him for anything.”

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