Vanishing Day Read online

  Logan wasn’t bothered, but neither did she want to intrude. Maybe the woman didn’t think she liked children. Her new neighbors moved in a couple of weeks ago, but Logan still hadn’t made it over to say hello. She’d have to remedy that.

  Tomorrow, she’d put on her welcome wagon hat. She couldn’t bake, but she could bring over a goodie bag from Tava’e’s. No one could turn down one of Jean’s cinnamon rolls. It’s how she and Ben met when she was the new kid on the block.

  Time to pay it forward.

  2

  That plan made, Logan turned toward her front door.

  “Mornin’, Glories!” she greeted the profusion of purple flowers tangled along a low, white fence running between the street and the narrow patch of yard in front of her house. The sun warmed the slate flagstones. She loved the herbal aroma that drifted up whenever she stepped on the French thyme she’d planted between them.

  Digging her key out of her pocket, she opened the door and let herself in. Her cell phone was ringing. Even though Rick wanted her to keep it with her at all times, she preferred not to be constantly tethered. Locking the front door was already a concession to safety.

  Kicking off her shoes at the door, Logan did a sock slide down the hall, coming to a perfect stop at the edge of the Persian rug she’d picked up for a song last year. Being a home owner never got old!

  Plucking her cell off the coffee table on the way, she pushed open the French doors that took up most of the back wall, and stepped outside, looking at her phone to see who called. Sally. Logan put her phone in her pocket. She’d call her back in a minute. First, she wanted to enjoy her garden.

  Ben, her landscape architect neighbor and the man she’d been seeing the last few years, had taken the neglected patch of scrub grass and turned it into her very own, private, Japanese garden complete with meditation bench and stone Buddha.

  This was wishful thinking on his part as Logan rarely sat still. She’d tried meditating, but moving meditation in the form of running or yoga was as close as she could get.

  Visible through the French doors, the garden extended the living space of her tiny house. At one end, a small stand of bamboo provided the perfect backdrop for a rounded, granite boulder, softened by sea grasses and a stream meandering around an ornamental plum tree.

  Most of her yard was around the corner, on the back side of her house, like Ben’s. Neither were fond of fences, so Ben installed a small foot bridge over the stream. The connecting path had gotten a lot of use the last couple of years.

  Just then, her phone burred in her pocket. It was Sally, so she pulled it out and took the call.

  Sally and her husband, Ned, were old friends. Logan was playing with her and Ned every weekend during the summer at the Otter Festival, having a blast. Tomorrow was their final show. The sheer joy of fiddling, getting back in her old grooves, had done wonders. Muscles long stiff and knotted loosened up and unfurled.

  “Hey, Logan,” Sally began, “glad you’re home! Is Amy coming tomorrow?”

  “She’s planning on it, why?”

  “Well, I hate to ask, but can she keep an eye on Quinn?” He’s turned into a handful—terrible twos turning into the terrible threes, and all that.

  “Of course. I’m sure she won’t mind. Amy loves kids.”

  “OK, great! He’ll probably be fine, but just in case ....”

  Logan laughed. She’d witnessed a couple of Quinn’s meltdowns this summer. Her friend was wise to call for more troops.

  “How are she and Liam doing?” Sally asked.

  “They’re doing great,” Logan said, “Just celebrated their first anniversary.”

  “No way! I can’t believe it’s been a year already. How does Amy like her new job?”

  “She’s in seventh heaven. What’s not to like about getting paid to play with sea otters? Of course, it’s not all play, but she still loves it.”

  Looking back, Logan still had a hard time believing that only a year ago, her daughter, Amy, then 24, home from Africa, recuperating from a bad bout of malaria, had been chased into the Pacific Ocean during a raging storm to escape a murderer.

  Today, Amy glowed with health and happiness. She and Liam, her Scottish botanist husband, were a perfect match.

  Promising to come in a few minutes early tomorrow to help set up, Logan ended the call and headed upstairs to change. She had a full day of shopping, cleaning, and ugh...paying bills.

  But after that, the rest of the weekend was hers. She added a note to pick up candles and her new favorite summer wine, a Pinot Blanc.

  Tonight was a Ben night!

  3

  Nights like last night were something to write home about. After dinner, she and Ben took the rest of the wine up to her rooftop deck to watch the sunset. Once the sun went down, the air cooled quickly. They hunkered down into teak lounge chairs under wool blankets, warming their feet on the fire pit. Ben built the fire pit as a surprise for her their first year together, simply because she liked the one at Juan’s, a local Mexican restaurant in town. Ben was a keeper.

  When Logan decided to set up shop at home for the Fractals program, she enlisted Ben’s crew to do the remodel. They’d converted the stand-alone, single garage into a sound studio downstairs and an upstairs office. The only thing she insisted on was not losing the ocean view from the deck. Ben happily complied and she enjoyed it almost every night since.

  Logan wished her father was still alive, so he could meet Ben and see what a wonderful man she found, and how she’d rediscovered her music and so many other things. Her dad never liked Jack, but accepted and welcomed him into the family because Logan loved him. And she had loved Jack. But Ben was better. Whether it was because she was older and better able to give love, or whether Ben was simply a better man, she wasn’t sure.

  What her mother would think of Ben she had no idea. The woman left both her and her father years ago. No one knew where she was now, or even if she was still alive.

  Shaking off these thoughts, Logan turned into her neighbor’s walkway. Like most of the houses on the street, this one was a Craftsman. Probably less than 1100 square feet, the house was fronted by a generous porch with long, shallow steps. The young couple who bought the place a year ago, quickly put it up for sale when the baby they were expecting turned out to be triplets and her mother moved in to help. There just wasn’t enough room for all of them.

  Logan didn’t know if the new resident bought the place or was renting. Either way, she might as well get things off to a good start. Balancing the to-go coffees and one hot chocolate for the little girl, along with the bag of warm rolls, she knocked on the door. For a minute she was greeted only with silence, but then she heard footsteps and the woman she’d seen in the window yesterday opened the door halfway. Dressed in yoga pants and a long t-shirt, light-brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, she looked out at Logan.

  “Hello,” she said, “Can I help you?”

  Yesterday’s exuberant window jumper peered shyly around her mother’s legs. Thumb anchored securely in her mouth, shiny, dark curls springing out at all angles from her head, she looked up at Logan with large, blue eyes.

  Before the mom could shut the door on her, which she looked about ready to do, Logan beamed her best welcoming committee smile and held up the cardboard tray.

  “Hi, I’m Logan McKenna, your neighbor,” she said, indicating her home next door with a nod to her left. “Thought you might like some coffee this morning. And ...” she added, looking down at the little girl with a wink, “if it’s OK with your Mom, some cinnamon rolls. Didn’t know if you’d had breakfast yet or not.”

  For a few seconds, the woman just stood there, like some feral animal, trapped and ready to run. Instinctively, Logan diverted her eyes, held her elbows in, and looked as small and unthreatening as possible. Finally, the little girl broke the ice, nodding excitedly, jumping o
ut from behind her mom’s legs to reach for the proffered treat.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the woman seemed to make up her mind. Visibly relaxing, she smiled, stepped back, and opened the door, inviting Logan in.

  “That was very thoughtful. Thanks. I’m Lori and this is my little munchkin Shannon. Why don’t you join us? We can all eat in here.”

  Relieved her friendly overture had been accepted, Logan followed her host inside. The house was tiny as expected, but cozy. Lots of dark wood. To the left was a green, speckled Formica kitchen table with three chairs. After a pass-through to a kitchen, a short hallway led to what must be a bedroom on the right, ending in a back door. Across from the dining room, to the right of the front door, was the living room. A serviceable, if slightly sunken, old-fashioned sofa sat atop carved wooden legs from a graceful past, next to one end table and a lamp. Under the large, picture window facing the porch, sat a matching, oversized chair in the same faded rose fabric. This must have served as Shannon’s trampoline yesterday. In the corner were some toys.

  “I saw you had a little girl and got her some hot chocolate. Is that OK?”

  “Absolutely, she loves cocoa, right Shannon?”

  Apparently having decided to trust Logan, Lori shed her former reserve. It was like watching a different person than the one who’d cautiously opened the door.

  “Cocoa!” Shannon said.

  4

  Shannon began jumping up and down gleefully, sans benefit of her trampoline, then looked up at Logan.

  “Marmarrows?”

  Logan looked at Lori for a translation.

  “She means marshmallows,” Lori said, then turned to her daughter.

  “No, honey, not this time, I don’t think we have any right now, but it’s really good,” she said.

  Shannon shrugged it off and reached for the cocoa.

  Logan was relieved her new neighbor wasn’t one of those parents who lived on kale and seaweed and never allowed their children to have sugar. She was all for broccoli and salad to accompany her rib eye steak, but that was as far as she was prepared to go on the health food front.

  “I’ll just get some milk to cool it down for her,” she said, after helping her daughter onto one of the chairs. “And some plates.”

  She returned in a few minutes with some ‘70’s stoneware plates and soon they were all enjoying their impromptu meal. Logan brought extra napkins, which was good, because within seconds, Shannon’s face was smeared with frosting.

  “How do you like your roll, Shannon?” Logan asked, digging into her own. Even though Lori brought forks out, they all ate with their fingers. Tasted much better that way.

  “Good!” Shannon said.

  “Tava’e’s down the street is our go–to coffee place, if you haven’t been there already,” Logan said.

  “I can see why ... this is really good,” Lori said, licking her fingers.

  Just in case there was a husband or roommate in the picture she hadn’t seen, Logan brought an extra coffee, but Lori suggested splitting it when they neared the bottom of theirs, so she didn’t think anyone else lived with them.

  After everyone finished and Lori took the plates into the kitchen, Shannon grabbed Logan by the hand and dragged her new friend into the living room to see her play tent. Although she didn’t have as many toys as Bonnie’s kids had, all of Shannon’s toys seemed to be new. Logan dutifully crawled in and out of the flimsy tent while her energetic tour guide jabbered enthusiastically, introducing her to all the dolls and stuffed animals. They all had to have ‘ciminon rolls’ too.

  Lori came in and offered to rescue her, but Logan figured the mom probably needed the break, so said she was fine. Lori finally stopped apologizing for Shannon monopolizing Logan’s time, sat back on the sofa and curled her feet under her. She was a small woman. Not delicate, but evenly proportioned. Maybe 5’5”. Her outstanding feature was that she had none.

  Shannon’s sugar high proved to be short-lived. She quickly wound down, crawling up in her mother’s lap with her favorite stuffed animal, Egee, a caramel–colored puppy, and promptly fell asleep.

  Lori stroked her daughter’s soft curls.

  “Man, I wish I could do that,” Logan said. She’d always been a light sleeper.

  “Where did you guys move from?” Logan asked, straightening her clothes, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

  “Mid-west,” Lori said, “Fly-over state. Lots of cows.”

  “Why California?”

  Logan would have guessed a job transfer, but with the limited furniture, she didn’t get the sense her new neighbor had a job that would ship household goods, or maybe a job at all. Besides, this furniture didn’t look like something she would have picked out for herself, and the girls’ toys were too new to have been purchased even a few months ago.

  Lori straightened up and looked confidently into Logan’s eyes.

  “Always wanted to live here. Sunny California. The beach. Wanted to move before Shannon started kindergarten. She’s three and a half, now. Gives me time to get settled, check on schools.”

  Lori spieled this off as if she’d memorized her answer, daring Logan to question it. Logan let the topic drop and took another sip of the last of her coffee.

  “What do you do?” Lori asked, changing the subject, “I hear music sometimes from your place.”

  She shifted on the couch a little more, adjusting Shannon on her lap.

  “I run a Math/Music program for the school district and sometimes the students record there,” Logan said, “The studio is supposed to be soundproof, so, if you hear music, it might be me. I sometimes play on the roof or out back. Let me know if it’s ever too loud.”

  “Oh no, I like it,” Lori said, “What a great job, how’d you get it?”

  That was a longer story than Logan expected to tell, but after the awkward start at the door, she was warming to her new neighbor and began to open up as she did with few other women, even her best friend, Bonnie. She found herself sharing her passion for bringing music into the lives of her students, and even telling her about her life, the accident, her new career, the loss of one of her students last year, even her budding romance with Ben.

  “Wow! You’ve been through so much. But you’re so strong. It sounds like it’s all working out for you. That’s awesome. And Ben sounds great,” Lori said, “I haven’t had very good luck.”

  She was about to say more, but Shannon started waking up.

  Logan checked her pocket for her house keys and got up to go.

  “I’m so glad I finally got over here to say hello. Sorry it took me so long. Thanks for letting me drop in like this,” Logan said.

  “No, it’s been really great for me—it’s great having another woman to talk to,” Lori said, “I’ve been so busy working—I work mostly with guys at the restaurant—and taking care of Shannon. Not much time to get out and meet people.”

  So, she did have a job.

  “What restaurant?”

  “Juan’s ... have you heard of it?”

  “Yeah, Juan’s is one of our favorite places,” Logan said. “Best Mexican food in Jasper.”

  Wonder what she does with Shannon when she’s working?

  Logan never saw a babysitter at the house. But then again, she hadn’t really looked, either. She really hadn’t been a very good neighbor. She decided to fix that.

  “Hey, if you like live music, why don’t you come down to the Otter Festival tomorrow? I can introduce you to some of my friends, you can meet some new people,” Logan said.

  “What’s the Otter Festival?”

  “It’s actually called the Otter Arts Festival, we just shorten it. It’s a local arts festival that’s been here forever. We all worked there summers, growing up, and it’s still going strong. It’s been upgraded and expanded over the years. Still has sawdu
st on the ground, though. Very laid back. Some friends and I are playing tomorrow—last concert this summer. You should come.”

  “Well ... it sounds like fun, but I’ve got Shannon, and ...”

  “You can bring Shannon. There are always lots of kids running around. In fact, Sally’s son, Quinn, will be there. He’s about Shannon’s age. And it doesn’t run late. If you need a ride, I’ll have Amy and Liam swing by and pick you up. They’re meeting us there.”

  “That’s OK. I have a car,” Lori said, “It’s in the garage. Not as pretty as your car, but it runs.”

  “All right. And thanks—my dad gave me that car. She is a beaut and knows it. I’ll have Ben save you guys a seat. Everyone should be there by 4:00 p.m.”

  Lori started to get up, but Shannon had fallen back asleep, so Logan bent down to hug them both briefly. Looking down at the sleeping little girl, Logan was surprised by a sudden, strong, maternal pull, reminiscent of when Amy was that age. Although Amy’s hair had been wispy blonde, not black, she felt the same protective instincts toward this sleeping whirlwind of little-girl energy, as she had for her own child.

  “Do you need directions?” she asked.

  “No, I can just GPS it,” Lori said, then stopped herself, “On second thought, give me the address. My phone’s not working great right now.”

  Lori pointed to a notepad on the end table. Logan tore a sheet off, jotted the address down and drew a map.

  “It’s not far, maybe ten minutes away at the most. Two lefts and a right. Easy to find,” she said as she handed her the piece of paper. See you tomorrow.”

  Letting herself out the front door, Logan wondered again where this little family came from and what really brought them to the sleepy town of Jasper, CA.

  5

  The afternoon set was in full swing. The third day of the Labor Day weekend and everyone was there to soak up the last of the sun, art, beer, wine, and music. They’d caught a break with the weather. Instead of the stifling triple digits they were battling inland, Jasper was enjoying idyllic temperatures in the mid-seventies, with a cooling, ocean breeze.