Page 50 of The Library of Second Chances
Logan
Logan sat on the bench for a while after Lucy left trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. One minute he was sitting next to her on a bench to keep her from feeling alone, and the next minute he was the one feeling alone, in every sense of the word.
He opened the green box next to him and took out a cookie the sun had kept warm and gooey, just the way he liked it. He wasn’t usually an eat-your-feelings kind of guy, but it would be a shame for them to go to waste.
Tucking the box under his arm as he stood, he decided to walk downtown for a coffee to go with his dessert. Weaving his way down the sidewalk, he dodged a football being thrown between two kids while their parents sat on a nearby bench reminding them to be careful. The fading sunlight filtered through the oak trees, creating a light show on the path ahead of him as small spots of sunshine danced across the aging concrete.
Ahead, a petite woman with short brown hair was closing the door to the Little Free Library and holding the hand of a boy who looked to be around five. She wasn’t anyone he recognized, at least not from the back. Could she be Island Girl? It was the first time he’d seen a woman taking or leaving anything from the library, so he couldn’t help but wonder.
As she walked down the path in the opposite direction, no book in hand, he detoured around the fountain to get a better angle on her. She looked to be in her thirties. She wasn’t unattractive, but nothing really stood out about her. She wore simple white shorts and a blue tank top with a small purse hanging across her body. It was too small to hold a book, so that meant she’d either left one or just been browsing. Besides, she had a kid. He hadn’t thought of Island Girlas a mom, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t.
Her fast pace was moving her too far out of his sightline to register any other details, so he swung back around the fountain toward the library. If there was a new book there for him, it could mean he’d just spotted Island Girl.
Swatting at a fly that seemed to be joining him on his walk, Logan thought about whether he really wanted to know her identity. It had occurred to him that he should say goodbye to her somehow before leaving town for good, but he hadn’t really considered trying to do so in person. That could be nice, just to tie up everything in a bow before he closed the chapter on Heron Isle.
The door to the Little Free Library creaked as he opened it, almost as if it wanted to mimic what the front door to the original house would sound like if it were still standing at the end of the square today.
The first thing he noticed on the ledge in the back next to a stack of new books was a white envelope that looked as if it had been torn and then taped back together. Two different setsof handwriting were on the envelope. One was in Island Girl’s familiar loopy handwriting addressing the envelope to Gatsby’s Ghost. Under it, however, was different handwriting.
So sorry! Took this home with my books accidentally and my son ripped it open. Promise we didn’t read!
His heart started pounding, the sound of it in his ears drowning out the cars that passed nearby and the kids playing outside around the square.
Island Girlhad written him a letter? Was she the woman he’d seen walking away from the library? Or was that the woman who had accidentally taken the envelope? He looked around, as if someone might be watching for his reaction, but he was alone.
She’d left him a letter without a book. What did it mean? And why was he so hesitant to open it? He picked it up, and it felt heavy in his hands even though it couldn’t be holding more than a page or two.
Something was so important she’d written him a note instead of leaving a book. Was it her saying goodbye first? He wasn’t sure why that was his immediate fear. So she was a tourist passing through. What did he care?
He cared because she was his only real connection here. The only person who got to see the real him and not the Logan he had to put on display to get the job done. His mind wandered back to Lucy. Sure, he’d opened up to her a little on the bench earlier, but that was just to show her they weren’t so different. It was to get her on his side. Wasn’t it?
The pained look on her face when she’d realized her date was a no-show made Logan want to track down the guy so he could punch him in the face for hurting her and pull her close to protect her from ever being hurt again. He and Lucy mightnot see eye to eye on the waterfront development, but who in their right mind would ever stand her up? She was beautiful and smart and witty. She was the complete package. If he lived in a place like Heron Isle, she was the kind of girl he’d want to marry.
But he wasn’t staying here. And she’d never be interested in him. Not that way. Heck, he could barely get her to tolerate his efforts at friendship.
Looking down at the envelope again, he flipped it over and slid a finger under the tape to release its hold. Inside was a single piece of light-blue paper from a legal pad with Island Girl’s handwriting on it.
Meet me on the benches by the marina on Thursday at 5:00 p.m.? I’ll be the one holding your copy of The 5 Second Rule.
He barely registered the rest of the note, focusing on those two lines. The banging in his chest was back, and this time it felt as if it was reverberating through his entire body. Wasn’t today Thursday?
He glanced at his watch. 6:07. He’d run into Lucy on a bench by the marina at what must have been shortly after five. She’d shoved a book in her bag, but she owned a bookstore: she probably took a book with her everywhere. Had there been anyone on the other benches? He’d been so focused on Lucy he hadn’t noticed.
He tried to recall what Lucy had said earlier, attempting to push away the thoughts of what it would mean if she was Island Girl, but it was as if he was sweeping sand off the floor of his cottage, attempting to force it out the door even as more was blown in.
What had Lucy said about who she was meeting? He’d asked her if it was a blind date, and she’d said, “Sort of” or “Something like that.” He couldn’t even remember. The thoughts were racing to the beat of his heart as if each was trying to outrun the other.
Had his sister been right? Was Lucy Island Girl?
She’d mentioned a career breakthrough. Was she talking about him helping her buy the building? No. That was something he, Logan, was doing, not something he’d have any way of knowing or helping with as Gatsby’s Ghost. But maybe the book he’d left as Gatsby’s Ghost helped her make the decision about the building.
His brain felt as if it might explode with the what-ifs and his unsuccessful attempts to remember everything Island Girl had said in her notes and annotations.
He had to get to the bottom of this. Had to know if she was Lucy.
He ran back to his cottage on the beach as if he was sprinting in an Olympic trial. Once there, he pulled every book she’d given him from his shelf and reread the notes and then the annotations. And when he read them, it was Lucy’s voice he heard.
Nineteen
