Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 (3 page)

The waiter brought over their bill and Logan stood up to pay. Alison rose and moved toward the door as he handed over the money and signed a paper.

Why had he made that remark about being on TV and spoiled everything? Her day had turned flat again, with all the enjoyment gone. Meeting him had seemed so promising. So much fun. And then he had to go and say something like that.

“I have to leave now,” she said as he rejoined her. “Thank you for the meal. I enjoyed it.” Her words sounded stiff and trite to her, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

“I’d like to write to you. Would you mind exchanging addresses? Or email?”

Alison hesitated. She really didn’t want anything more to do with him. “Give me your address. I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks.” He glanced around and found a small match book, shook his head over its size, and instead picked up a folded brown paper bag from near the cash register. Taking out a pen he wrote on it and handed it to Alison.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

“Sure.” She proceeded him outside. “You’ll need to turn your car in, so I’ll say goodbye now. Thank you for the meal. It was nice meeting you.” Getting into her car she drove away, waving as she left.

Logan watched Alison drive away, fighting down the urge to follow her. She wasn’t going to call him. He knew it as certain as he knew anything.

What had gone wrong?
It was a completely new experience for him, having a woman back away. Everything had seemed to be going great, when suddenly she had withdrawn, becoming cold and distant.
Was it something he’d said?

It wasn’t the reaction he was used to. With his name and his job and as easily recognized as he was, he had trouble evading women. The more persistent ones made an out and out nuisance of themselves. Even the ones with a more subtile approach advanced instead of retreated.

Had she noticed the waiter ask him for his autograph when he went to pay the bill?

He stood alone in the Seattle sunshine, shuffling his feet, confused and uncertain. Like iron to a magnet, he’d been instantly attracted to Alison, and now it seemed she was not attracted to him. Bummer!

He could just give up and go home, but he knew he wouldn’t let it rest until he’d found out why she didn’t want to see him again.There had to be some way to contact her. Some way to see her, or talk to her, to try to get past whatever bothered her.

If he lived in Seattle, he would have found out where she lived and tried to visit.

He still could. Maybe. If he could figure out an approximate address, to go with a name in a phone book...

He just might be able to do something like that, right now.

Stepping back into the fish market, he asked the waiter/owner if he knew where Tiger Lake was.

“No. No lake of that name around here,” the man answered, wiping down his counter. “Unless there’s one on Tiger Mountain, out by Issaquah.”

“It’s a small lake, almost a puddle, within a few miles of here,” Logan added desperately. If the man didn’t know about it, Logan decided he would drive the streets around the exit she said she had missed, up and down, until he found it, then look for her car. He refused to lose her this early.

“Oh.” The elderly storekeeper brightened visibly. “You must mean Lyon’s Lake.”

“Yes. That’s it.” He didn’t usually forget things like that. Just proof how much meeting her had affected him.

“Sure, Mr. Logan. I’ll show you.” The man hunted eagerly through a stack of papers and pulled out a tattered city map. “It’s right here. Go north to 130th and turn left.” He put his finger next to the spot.

“Thanks.”

“Anything else I can do? Anything.”

“No. You’ve helped immensely.” Logan handed the map back, having memorized the area as best he could.

“You can have it, Mr. Logan.” The man was falling all over himself to please. “I’m sorry it’s in such bad condition.”

“That’s okay. Thanks again. Here, buy yourself a new one.” He handed the man a twenty. The information had been worth much more than that to Logan. His fame had some perks, including the fact that people would do almost anything for him.

“Thank you, sir. Glad to help.”

“Thank you.” There was no time for him to search for Alison’s place and still make the plane. But he could at least check out Lyon’s Lake. His team had played against Seattle last night—a preseason practice game—and Logan and a few others had stayed over Saturday to enjoy the Seafair Celebration taking place.

He opened his cell phone and called his teammate.

“Hey, Jake. Take my gear with you. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Where are you?”

“North of Seattle. I had an incident on the freeway—”

“You all right?” Jake’s concern went beyond a wide receiver worrying about his quarterback. The two were the best of friends as well as teammates.

“Yes. Just delayed.”

“You can tell me later then. Gotta run.”

Logan’s body still ached from the pounding he’d received during the game. Coach Dobb had been trying out some players to determine the final cut...and the men who were supposed to guard the quarterback hadn’t done their jobs. He’d been sacked four times by the Seattle defense before the coach put in the second string and set him out for the rest of the game, but not before someone’s finger came through his face mask, just missing his eye.

It was after games like that that he wondered what he was doing, at age thirty-two, still playing professional football.Each year he felt the pressure more. Each year he found it took longer to recover.

Yet he loved the game, enough to pay the price to play it. And the rewards were enormous for a first-string quarterback.

With the map on his dashboard, Logan drove the half-mile to the lake. As he traveled, Alison’s face floated before him along with the varied visuals he had absorbed during the short time they had been together.

All his impressions of her were moving ones—the flowing swing of her red-gold hair, the way she tapped her fingers while considering the menu, the way she walked and talked and used her hands. Her hands spoke when she spoke, unconsciously signing words. They were graceful hands and expressive, and he had found himself watching their rapid movement, reading them as much as listening to the sound of her voice.

She was outgoing, friendly, yet had that lady-like reserve that attracted him. If only she hadn’t backed off. He had to find out why.

He drove in and out of the apartment complexes next to the lake hoping he wouldn’t have to expand his search, when he spotted Alison’s car with its dented rear bumper. The parking space had no number on it, but he would be able to find the apartments again when he had more time.

He tore off a small corner of the map and jotted the address down carefully.

Logan smiled, satisfied, as he put the address in his wallet. It had taken him only twenty minutes. When he finished with football, he could always go into detective work. He climbed back into the Jetta and headed for the airport.

Returning to her apartment, Alison threw the brown paper bag at the wastebasket. It missed, but she left it there while she put her purse away.

Her flatmate, Robyn Duvall, followed her into her bedroom, humming a song.

“You sound happy,” Alison said, recognizing the tune as one from the Hugh van de Veld collection. “All packed and ready to leave?”

“Of course. I’ve been saving for college for several years. I’m looking forward to Virginia Tech. And you don’t sound as depressed as you usually are, after visiting your mom.”

“I was when I left there.” Alison frowned, biting her lip. “I get so I never want to visit.”

Robyn sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never mentioned this to you before, but I feel I should before I leave.”

“What?”

“I don't know if you can see it, but your mother competes with every woman who comes around, including you.”

Alison set her purse on the dresser while mulling over the statement. She had never tried to analyze her mother’s actions. “I know she used to chat up my boyfriends. I stopped wanting to have them meet her.”

“She tears you down whenever she gets an opportunity. Haven't you noticed?” Robyn asked.

“Well...no.” She paused to think as images, times, occasions flashed through her mind. “Well, sort of.”

Robyn’s words had thrown her at first, but she could see the truth in it. “She used to dress me in the most ugly outfits. Remember that? Kids would make fun of me.”

Robyn nodded.

It had made Alison feel so worthless. “When I got old enough to choose—and buy— my own clothes, she never approved of my taste. But the kids at school seemed to like my new look, so I thought she just didn't know what was in style.”

Robyn shook her head. “I didn’t recognize it when we were in grade school together. Or high school either for that matter. But when she dropped by the other day to see you, she tried to tear me down and Ryan cut her off short. He told her he didn’t want to hear any of it. I don't have half her looks and she still felt threatened.”

Alison assessed her friend’s features impartially. Robyn and her twin brother Ryan had the same color hair and shared the same generous mouth, but otherwise Robyn was all female. “There's nothing wrong with your looks. But it could be because you have youth on your side. She's losing it.”

“You just need to stop listening to her. It would be good for your brother to move out, too. Urge him to get a place of his own and hire a caretaker. He'll never get ahead if he stays at home.”

“I agree. But I doubt if he’ll listen to me.”

Robyn got up and left the room and Alison followed her out. Spotting the bag on the floor, Robyn picked it up and looked at the information written there.

“Who’s this?” Robyn asked, waving the bag.

“Some guy I ran into on the freeway.”

Robyn glanced over in alarm. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. Not that way.” Alison explained what had happened. “So I’ve already eaten.”

Robyn looked at the bag, then back at Alison. "That’s a new way to meet. You going to call him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t live around here. But it was funny, the way the cars stayed behind us.” Alison smiled, remembering the way the drivers had honked and waved.

“You know, you should start dating again. I know that last guy was a double jerk, but maybe if you joined a club or something, you could meet someone that way. Get to know a bunch of men without dating them. Find some common activity."

"Maybe I could take a welding class."

"What?"

"Making art thingies."

"What brought that on? I’ve known you your whole life, and you hate crafts.”

“I just—”

The door buzzer sounded.

“Ryan Duvall.” His voice sounded strange over the intercom.

Robyn hurried over to let her twin into the building. She threw open the door as he ran up the stairs. "I've got all my things packed."