Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [149]
She hadn’t gone back to school that semester. Instead she’d sat in her rocker for months trying to figure out where her life was going. Logan had been so supportive during that awful time. It was Logan who put the dust covers on all the furniture, Logan who did all the things necessary to closing up a house, Logan who locked the door for the last time, and Logan who drove her away and held her hand when she looked back over her shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks.
They’d come back to Virginia fifteen years ago when Logan’s elderly father passed away. Even then she was barely able to open the door and walk through her old home. Logan held her hand that time, too, while she struggled with the key.
Kristine rubbed at the tears in her eyes. It was all so long ago. Another time, another life.
As she unpacked her bag, Kristine wondered if living here with her family would be as good as the life they had led in all the foreign countries they’d lived in.
Logan’s picture was the first thing that came out of her bag. She set it on the night table next to a small onyx clock that no longer told time. It would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes in the morning and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes at night. “I wish you were here, Logan,” she whispered. “We should be here together.” She was jolted to awareness when she heard a loud thump and squabbling coming from the hallway.
“Now look what you did. I’m not picking it up. You were supposed to hold up your end, Tyler. God, I hate it when you act like a priss.”
“Stuff it, Cala. I’m soaking wet, and I’m freezing. Mike should be on the bottom and I should be on the top with you.”
“Guess what, you jerk, we’re cold and wet, too. We still have three more loads to go, so get moving.”
“Do it yourself. I’ll make my own fire with my own wood. I’m sick and tired of getting dumped on by the two of you. I don’t give a shit if you’re twins or not. So there.”
“That’s enough,” Kris shouted from the hallway. “The quicker you get those fires going, the sooner you’ll be warm. You won’t be able to take a hot bath because there’s no propane.”
“Are you saying there’s no shower? I hate taking a bath because you just sit in your own dirty water. I hate this stinking place. I really hate it!” Cala said tearfully.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now, get moving, and someone has to clean up all the splinters from the steps. I’ll start dinner.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mike muttered.
“Me either,” Tyler grumbled.
“What could there possibly be to eat in this dump?” Cala said, blowing her nose.
Kristine threw her hands in the air. “Fine, don’t eat. Starve. I’ve had it with the three of you.” She stared at the phone that suddenly pealed to life. A phone call! She picked up the receiver to hear her husband’s cheerful voice.
“Logan! Oh, Logan, it’s so good to hear from you. Is everything okay?”
“More to the point, is everything okay with you?”
“No. The kids hate it. There’s no heat. They’re giving me such a hard time. I guess we’re all just tired. The house is fine inside. It’s clean and there’s some food. Tomorrow I’ll get the propane. It’s sleeting out, and this house is drafty. At least the phone is working. I picked up our new station wagon.” Kristine lowered her voice to a hushed whisper so the children wouldn’t hear her. “This is the right thing, isn’t it, Logan. Moving here, I mean.”
“Kristine, what’s going on?”
“It’s the kids. They’re mouthy, disrespectful, and they hate it. Maybe it’s first-day jitters and tomorrow will be the first day of school in what they refer to as a rinky-dink farm school. Look. You didn’t call me to hear