Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 (23 page)

It was frustrating, inching through the miles of jammed roadway until, clearing the last exit, the traffic opened up and she could travel again at freeway speeds the rest of the way to the airport. Logan's plane was late getting in and she reached the waiting area before him.

Logan looked well rested when he walked out the security exit. He was wearing a sports coat over a dress shirt and heavy wool sweater, all in shades of teal blue and gray, with a heavy overcoat over his arm. The only thing to strike an off chord, looking out of place in the terminal, was his dark glasses. A seasoned traveler, he had evidently shaven on the plane, he was fresh and smooth and smelling of a nippy aftershave as he gathered her to him.

Alison returned his kisses willingly, her arms clasped around his broad neck, glad that an airport was one place where it was socially acceptable to kiss in public. She didn't feel uncomfortable.

"Hey," he murmured, continuing to kiss her when she would have finally pulled away. "Shall I come this way all the time? Airports bring out the best in you."

She laughed, happy to have him near her once more. "Any old way you please, just as long as you come. I missed you," she declared emphatically, and kissed him again out of the sheer joy of seeing him. The weeks were getting longer and longer; seven days between visits seemed like a month even though he did phone almost every night.

"And I you," he stated, sweeping her against him in one last hug before they started walking down the long corridor. "When I called last night, and didn't get you, it...well, it unsettled me."

A sizable understatement. He had become unsettled enough that he had crossed the continent when he hadn't intended to.

He would have had to rearrange or cancel whatever he'd planned for today. The man from Tennessee had never mentioned to what great troubles he went through to pursue his elusive Seattle quarry and she wondered if he'd ever tell her what these trips cost him in time and effort, not to mention dollar amounts. It made her stop to consider...how could he keep this up? Both expense and time was being wasted as long as she lived here and he lived...wherever he lived. It had to be taking a toll.

She nodded, understanding his worry, it had happened to her once when her parents hadn't arrived at the time they said they would.

He continued to be apologetic, apparently not wanting to lay any blame or guilt on her. "I knew I was being unreasonable; you might be out on a date or something, or even working...but I wanted to talk to you so badly—rather, I wanted to see you so badly—that I kept calling, then called Chantal to see if you were with her. She said you'd left for home hours ago and it really threw me." He paused, as if reliving those moments of tension over again. "I got a ticket and called you once more from the airport and reached you—thankfully. Otherwise I doubt I'd have slept on the way out and been useless when I got here."

She looked down to put her foot on the moving metal step of the escalator, then turned towards him as they rode it down. "I'm so sorry; I just never thought—"

"No, of course you wouldn't," he remarked, quickly defending her actions; no hint of accusation in his deep voice. "And neither would I. It was very traumatic from my end, though...not knowing. I haven't worried about anyone except myself for a long time. I know I shouldn't have worried about you."

"But you did, and I'm glad."

"You are? You don't think me nuts? It wasn't a very sane thing to do."

They were at the bottom now, the step in front of them disappearing from view. His statement made her smile and she shook her head slightly while stepping carefully from the conveyance, then looked up at him. Normal worry wasn't a fault; it was a sign of friendship. And of loving.

He could evidently read the gratitude in her eyes and shrugged it off, looking almost embarrassed. But she could see him visibly relax at her acceptance of his "unreasonable" reaction.

"My car's on the top level," she explained as they walked across the skybridge leading to the parking garage. "I went directly there so I wouldn't have to hunt too long for a space."

"Good. I have something I want to say to you. Is there anywhere close we could go where it's private?"

He sounded serious. Could it be...? Alison had received proposals of marriage before; and it sounded like Logan was leading up to one right now. And if he did, what would she say? "Do you want a restaurant or a park?" she asked.

"Park," he answered. "That is, if it's not too cold."

Easy to see where he'd come from. "No," she said as they walked out of the elevator into brilliant sunshine and balmy weather and laughed as he looked around in amazement. "At least not today. Yesterday it was cooler."

"This is crazy. When I was here last week, it was cold and raining hard."

"That was last week. Seattle weather is highly variable. We have all four seasons all year 'round. Sometimes all in one day."

"Well, yes, so I see. I guess I won't need this." He threw his coat in the back of the car, felt the heat inside, then took off his sport coat and sweater. "It feels like California. Let's go to a park."

She laughed, slid into the driver's seat and headed for Fort Dent. She was dressed rather casually in purple corduroy pants and a purple and white cotton sweater. Her winter coat—brought along because Seattle temperatures could change in an instant—was in the back seat.

"Don't you have winter?" he asked as he rolled down the window. "I left Boston in a small blizzard."

"Sometimes. Sometimes it rains for days and days. It can be awfully depressing then. And we get snow, usually wet and slick and slushy. Today is just one of our sun breaks." It was absolutely glorious out and matched her feelings perfectly.

The Fort Dent Park complex was deserted except for some men practicing on the cricket field and another group quite a distance away that was either playing soccer or rugby. Alison stopped in the near-empty parking lot and they strolled off by themselves.

"I like that color on you. In fact I like everything about you," he said and then paused, kicking aimlessly at the grass underfoot, and the atmosphere changed. A tension had entered his voice; his small talk was no longer meaningless but leading up to something.

"Thank you," she said...and waited. It was something she had learned; to wait and let the other person do the talking. Partly it was a result of interpreting so much...she had to wait until she grasped an idea before she repeated the sentence. It kept her from saying things that showed she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Also it added another dimension, a quality of stillness to that silent reserve she had.

He pulled off his glasses. "I guess by now, you know...what I want to say is...what I mean is...." He stopped, then tried again, the chiseled features of his face becoming grim in thought. "When I called, last night, and couldn't reach you...you were so far away. And I didn't like that. This...this hopping from one side of the country and back to see you, I don't want to do it anymore."

Oh no
, she thought in sudden anguish,
what if he wants to stop seeing me; to break it off?
A deep pain shot through her as she finally realized how much he meant to her. How much she loved him. For this pain, this sudden realization of what life would be like without him, this dread of parting, could only accompany love.

This man, Logan, who she still didn't know very well—and yet who she knew better than any other man she had ever met—had at sometime during the off and on visits become very special. Love for this unusual man had been growing and developing swiftly and silently, without her being aware of its presence. Now it burst, full bloom like a suddenly appearing fireworks display, unexpectedly lighting up the fragility of their relationship; changing from a tentative sparkle to a startling burst of colored glory.

He continued to speak, his penetrating voice low yet urgent, not realizing the momentous discovery she had made. "It's like I'm torn into two parts, one wanting to be here with you, to share all my time with you, and the other obligated to be back there." He hesitated, then said, sadly, "I'm sorry, Alison."

So it was going to be good-bye.
The day suddenly lost its luster and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes, barely hearing his next words.

"I was going to give you more time...to give us more time to get to know each other."

 "Will you marry me?"

She swung around to stare at him, mouth opened in surprise, then gave a little gasp as she shook her head in disbelief. His blue eyes were boring into hers as if he could will her answer.

"I knew it was too soon," he muttered, disappointed. "You still hadn't said you loved me but I'd hoped you felt something for me. I'm not joking, you know."

"No...you surprised me, that's all. I wasn't expecting it." Not after that lead-up. She stepped slightly away, considering, her mind in a turmoil, undecided what answer to give him. She loved him, but it was a love given with reservations. She loved the man she knew. What about the parts of him still hidden from her?

Can anyone ever completely know another person? Yet to marry, to give your life completely into the hands of another...there must be enough knowledge that it could be done comfortably... not a groping in the dark. She still didn't know enough about him to settle that last lingering doubt. And until then, how could she say "yes?"

"I don't know," she finally said. "You're right, I still don't know you; not nearly well enough. Marriage is forever—for me. Divorce is not in my plans. I want seventy some years with the same man if we live that long. And that means I'm going to be mighty careful who I team up with. I'm not ready to give you a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Not yet."

"I see...then how about a ‘maybe?’" Ever hopeful, he didn't know how to quit and this trait endeared him anew to Alison.

"A definite ‘maybe,’" she agreed, bubbling happy again.

The deep glow was in his eyes, revealing the basic strength of his character. "What sort of criteria do I have to meet?"

If she named it, he'd do it, but what she wanted was something he hadn't been able to give so far...a deeper sharing in his life, a fuller understanding of his background. A need to put the man into a complete picture.

"You've met a lot already...but, well, let's face it. Aside from Ken I know none of your friends or family. I would want to meet those nearest to you at the least. There's still an aura of mystery about you, an area of your life that I know nothing about. Like—what do you do while you're gone from me." That thought had always nagged at her.

"True." He bit his lower lip, in thought, contemplating her as she stood there, poised silently, waiting for what he had to say. He started to speak, stopped, grimaced and shrugged his shoulders as if trying to shake off a weight he found bothersome. Then seeming to come to some decision, he muttered, "Would you consider marrying a person who makes his living as a...a—"

As a welder?
Suddenly she realized what might be bothering him. Some men felt that working at certain trades wasn't as honorable as working at others. It didn't bother her.

As he hesitated, apologetically, she put in, "I don't mind...that you're a welder. It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of, especially someone who's as skilled as you are."

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her up from under his brows with a sheepish look. "Uh...I have sort of a confession to make; like, uh...I've been holding out on you."

He viewed the alarm on her face and quickened his confession. "I said I like to weld—and I do—but that's not my job, Alison. I'm not a welder. That's only a hobby."

She stared at a scratch mark on his face with sudden suspicion.
Was he a criminal after all?

"I would've told you sooner—but—uh—well, you don't like football or anything to do with it...." He stopped to take a deep breath.