Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (40 page)

demanded, ―Why bother with him?‖

―It‘s what I do. I minister to everyone because if God doesn‘t give

up on people—and He doesn‘t—then I have no right to do that either.‖

―Are you trying to tell me he‘s changed?‖

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―Not that I can see. He‘s still very much a violent, angry, bitter

man.‖

―Of course,‖ Nick sneered. ―So why the hell are you telling him

anything about me?‖

―Because he likes it, even if he won‘t admit it. Because it helps

me reach that core of humanity that‘s there, even in him.‖

―I don‘t believe that.‖

―Which part, that he likes to hear about you or that there‘s

humanity in him?‖

―Neither.‖

―If you‘re so sure, then there‘s no harm in seeing for yourself. Is

there?‖

―No harm… but no point.‖

Ciera looked at him shrewdly and said, ―I guess the only point

would be if you wanted to see what he has to say to you after all these

years. But since you don‘t….‖ She shrugged and finished her drink.

―Are you almost done? I have to be getting back to the convent. I hope

you‘re not planning on driving home tonight.‖

Though he was suspicious of the abrupt change of subject, Nick

said, ―Nah. I‘m staying at The Sunshine Motel on Seneca.‖ However,

she didn‘t raise the subject of his father again, and he walked Ciera to

her car in silence. This time they parted with a handshake.

After picking up some takeout on his way to the motel, Nick let

himself into the small room and gratefully flopped on the bed. He

rested for a few minutes, running the events of the night over in his

head. Finally, his growling stomach demanded attention, so he got up

and changed into a sweatshirt and jeans before tearing into his food. All

the while he ate, Nick stared at his cell phone lying abandoned on the

dresser. He was imbued with an overwhelming desire to call Logan, or

even Trudy, but finally decided against it.

In the end, the number he dialed was to his mother‘s room in the

nursing home. His five-minute chat with her was as frustrating as ever,

with Agnes fading in and out of coherence. After complaining that the

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nurses were trying to get her to eat ―six or seven meals a day,‖ she was

lucid enough to ask, ―When‘re you comin‘ to see me again? ―

―I‘ll be there tomorrow.‖

―Okay, good night, son.‖

―Wait a minute, Mom. There‘s two things I wanna tell you.‖

―What?‖

―The first thing is, I‘m sorry.‖

―It‘s all right, I can wait ‘til tomorrow for your visit.‖ Without

further ado, Agnes hung up her phone.

Nick stared at the dead phone in his hand for a moment before

shaking his head and saying, ―The second is that I forgive you.‖

He started getting ready for bed, ruminating on the conversation

with his mom. In the end he decided that it had been fine. After all, that

last sentiment hadn‘t really been intended for her benefit.

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Chapter 17:

Another Heart

The person who tries to live completely alone will not succeed as a

human being; the heart withers if it does not answer another heart.

—Pearl S. Buck

SUNDAY evening, Nick pulled into the driveway of his house feeling

both physically and emotionally drained. When he‘d arrived in

Pittsburgh five hours earlier, he‘d headed straight to the nursing home

to see his mom. After his epiphany of forgiveness—for both of them—

he had expected the visit to be… different. He wasn‘t exactly sure in

what way he‘d expected it to be different, or significant, but it didn‘t

really matter since it had pretty much been the same as all his other

visits to the nursing home. He, ever the dutiful son, had helped feed his

mom lunch and watched some old movies with her, all the while

initiating several fruitless conversations with Agnes, who seemed frail,

confused, and withdrawn.

Having failed to find the comfort he was looking for in a visit

with his mom, Nick rested his head against the steering wheel as a

wave of overwhelming isolation swamped him. His mind immediately

turned toward Logan, the one man who‘d managed to completely and

thoroughly breach the lonely shell Nick had spent years erecting around

himself. Yet as much as he yearned for Logan, he recognized that there

was now a distance in their relationship, a distance Nick had put there

when he‘d conflated Logan with Norah‘s murderer and his own father.

Part of Nick wanted to wipe that moment away, to loudly protest

to his own conscience that he‘d been upset when he‘d made that

connection, had been merely lashing out in pain, and that no such

doubts existed. But he couldn‘t. For too long he‘d lied to himself,

swept all uncertainties under the rug, and now there was a price to be

paid for that longstanding denial. If he and Logan were to last—and

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249

Nick could admit that he wanted that more than anything—then they

had to face those questions together.

Even as he started to face up to that harsh reality, silently Nick

protested,
Does it have to be tonight?
He felt chilled, heart and soul,

and he ached for the warmth of Logan‘s presence. Having at last

decided on a course of action, Nick snatched his overnight bag off the

passenger seat and hurried to the house. By the time he reached the

entrance, he already had his cell phone out and paused only to flip the

hall light switch on before punching in Logan‘s number.

Logan answered after two rings, but rather than the ―hello‖ Nick

expected, he got, ―I know I said we‘d be there by now, but we ran into

some traffic, Linda.‖

―Uh, what?‖

―Nick?‖

―Yeah, it‘s me.‖

―Aww, shit. Sorry. I thought it was—girls, would ya pipe down?

I‘m on the phone here.‖

Logan‘s daughters could be heard offering not-very-contrite

apologies in the background. Since he had no desire for an audience,

Nick said, ―I guess I caught you at a bad time. Give me a call when you

can talk.‖

―Sure thing. Won‘t be that long.‖

Nick stuck his phone back in his shirt pocket, relieved to have

made even minimal contact with Logan, and philosophically decided to

take the opportunity to unpack and do some laundry. After he started

the first load, he headed upstairs to the kitchen and made a sandwich

out of salami that smelled like it was still okay to eat. He started

reflecting disconsolately on the empty week that stretched ahead of him

when he was blindsided by a sudden thought.
Shit! I quit my job. I

don’t have another week off, I have… forever off. What the fuck was I

thinking?

After Nick was done smacking himself, both metaphorically and

literally, he made a vow to call Trudy first thing in the morning and see

if he could retract that impetuous resignation. Fortunately, the ring of

his cell phone stopped him from dwelling any longer on his possible

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state of unemployment. A glance at the screen confirmed that it was

indeed Logan returning his call. ―Hey, Logan.‖

―Hey, Nick. Sorry ‘bout that earlier. I didn‘t bother lookin‘ at my

phone ‘cause I was on the road. Just assumed it was Linda callin‘ again

‘bout us getting back from Elco so late.‖

―Is that where you went this weekend?‖

―Yeah. How was your—how‘d you make out at Norah‘s funeral?‖

How the hell could Nick sum up the mixed bag of emotions he‘d

experienced over the past forty-eight hours? ―It was okay. Hard, for

real. Seeing her in the coffin and meeting her family sure tore me up,

but I‘m glad I went.‖

―I still don‘t think you should‘ve gone alone.‖

―I wasn‘t alone. Ciera was there.‖

The silence on the other end spoke of Logan‘s surprise, but after a

few seconds he breathed, ―Oh. That‘s good. I guess?‖

Not bothering to hide the wonder in his own voice, Nick

answered, ―Yeah, it was.‖

Another awkward pause ensued, and Logan offered, ―If you was

with Sister Ciera, then I suppose ya had ‘nough talkin‘ this weekend.‖

The halfhearted attempt at humor fell flat, but Nick heard the

question behind it—
Are you ready to talk to me?—
so he answered it.

―Not to the right person.‖ The only answer was a sharp intake of breath

from Logan, so he persevered. ―I know how early you have to get up

for work, but do you think you could come over, or I could come to

your place if you just give me direc—‖

―I‘ll be there in half an hour.‖

―Great.‖

To distract himself from his almost painful eagerness for Logan‘s

arrival, Nick busied himself with more laundry and other chores. He

was in the basement hanging up some damp shirts when he was startled

by the blast of a horn from outside. Nick ignored it at first, thinking it

was for a neighbor, but when the sound repeated, he jogged up the steps

and peered out the front room window.

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251

In the dim glow from a streetlight, Nick could make out the

Thunderbird—as he‘d never seen it before. Every other thought flew

out of his head. He banged out the front door and ran up to his now

shiny red car. He and Logan stood across from each other, separated by

the car, twin grins of pride and satisfaction illuminating their faces.

Nick was nearly speechless. He ran a reverent hand across the hood,

saying, ―I can‘t…. I can hardly believe it‘s the same car.‖

Logan stared down at the gleaming sports car, nodding in

apparent agreement, but then squinted up at him. ―It ain‘t, thanks to

us.‖

―Damn skippy,‖ Nick answered with a smile. And suddenly he

was moving towards Logan, who was already on a collision course

with him. In seconds, he was hugging the solid warmth of that man to

him with a fierce, desperate need. Nick buried his face in Logan‘s neck,

knowing that their problems loomed as large as ever but also knowing

that this feeling, this solace, this rightness was worth fighting for. With

one arm slung over Logan‘s shoulders, he said, ―Come on. Let‘s go

inside.‖

THE greeting was everything Logan could have wished for, especially

when Nick kicked the front door shut behind them and immediately

pushed him up against the wall, diving for his mouth. All Logan could

do was sag back against the ancient wallpaper and go with the flow. He

groaned into the kiss as Nick‘s tongue demanded entrance and greedily

plundered his mouth before moving to plant a series of sucking kisses

along Logan‘s stubbled jaw.

Abruptly, Nick pulled back and trained on him a laser-intense

flash of eyes gone black with intensity. ―You know we gotta talk later,

right?‖

Logan emerged from his daze of lust just long enough to answer,

―Yeah, I know.‖ But he didn‘t let go of Nick‘s arms. In fact, he held on

tighter. There was no way he was letting go, not when he finally had

this man right where he needed him after being too long apart.

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Nick leaned back into the embrace, rumbling in his ear, ―The

operative word being ‗later‘. Now is for—‖

―Fucking,‖ Logan growled back.

―And there was a time I thought you weren‘t so eloquent.‖

Logan barely noticed the joke, since the jester was dragging him

up the stairs as he said it. Soon they reached the bedroom, and Nick

immediately tore his oxford off and started to work on Logan‘s snap

front shirt. Logan let him have his way, since his own hands were busy

yanking Nick‘s jeans open. With singleminded intent, they managed

clumsily, haltingly, with frantic kisses drawing the process out, to get

rid of all bothersome clothing. When he pushed Nick‘s naked body

down on the bed and climbed on top, Logan felt like he‘d found the

oasis in his own personal hell of a desert.

Nick was groaning, ―Need you bad, babe. I gotta—‖

Logan cut him off with a kiss before whispering in his ear, ―Me,

too. Gotta have you inside me, all I been thinking about.‖ Recognizing

Nick‘s intent to move, he pushed him back with a none-too-gentle

shove, mumbling, ―There‘s somethin‘ I been wantin‘…. I wanta try….‖

Never articulate to begin with, Logan found it almost impossible to

spell out his plans for their coupling.

A wanton grin slid across Nick‘s face as he murmured, ―Okay,

we‘ll do it your way.‖ He leaned up and kissed Logan before saying

with a sexy smirk, ―Whatever that is.‖

Logan answered by using his body to pin Nick flat against the