Cracks in Their Shells

Tears welled in Becca's eyes as Logan poured out his heart to her. He continued:

"I mourn over the things she didn't get to be a part of, especially the boys' high school accomplishments. Mitchell was an all-district wrestler and finished fourth in the state tournament. He was homecoming king. Martin was a serviceable catcher on the baseball team, made state honor band on French horn, and is in the band at NC State now. They both graduated in the top twenty of their class. She didn't get to see them win all those trophies on the mantle."

Becca's tears had begun streaming down her cheeks. She looked at Logan and saw that he, too, was crying.

"She died on my birthday, Halloween. Aside from Christmas, Halloween had been our favorite holiday. We dressed up in silly costumes instead of scary ones so we wouldn't scare the littles when they came here to Trick-or-Treat. We went caroling at Christmastime, shot fireworks on Independence Day, and exchanged Valentine's. Easter was the only major holiday that didn't catch on with us. We did it when the boys were little, but after they got old enough that they weren't interested in dyeing and hunting Easter eggs, we let that one go."

"We spread her askes on the lake when she died. She didn't want to be in a cemetery, and I was not going to go against her wishes. I still go down there at least once every couple of weeks and talk to her. The boys know that when my time comes, I want to be placed there so the two of us can be together again."

"I take antidepressants and go to therapy every month. Therapists and teachers are the two most underpaid professions, in my opinion. I couldn't have gotten as far as I have without the mental health system. No, I've never been suicidal or anything that extreme, but I have been pretty damn low. I've tried to come out of my shell and have been on a couple of dates since Laura died, but it's exhausting and easier to just be alone. And lonely."

Logan paused, unsure of what to say next. Becca's heart ached for the man. The silence between them grew awkward, but Becca endured it as long as she could before she stood, walked to Logan's chair, and gestured towards his lap. "May I?" she asked. Logan smiled weakly through his tears and nodded his assent. Taking a seat in Logan's lap for the fourth time that evening, Becca nestled against his chest and worked an arm between him and the back of the chair. Logan wrapped his arms around her and together, they released their sorrows in tears and sobs. Eventually their crying subsided until it ended with one last sniffle from each of them. The awkward silence returned.

Logan was the first to break the silence. "We're a couple of basket cases, aren't we, Becca?" She felt rather than saw him smiling.

"Yeah. Two cracked eggs in the same old Easter basket. But Logan, if we're going to crack up, I think I would enjoy cracking up with you. Together, I mean."

"I think I might like that, Becca." Their eyes met as their faces inched closer together and their lips met in a soft, tender kiss. They drew away from each other, smiled, and said in near perfect unison:

"Coffee breath."

*********

Becca arrived home shortly after midnight. Nikki sniffed her with great interest at the canine odor that lingered on her clothes. She washed her face, admiring the degree to which the mascara had held up against so many tears. "I have to remember that brand next time, but hopefully there won't be too many tears in the future," she said aloud and with a smile. She undressed and put on an oversized t-shirt to sleep in, then tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable before the cat could claim her spot. Wriggling away from her pet, she turned off the lamp and drifted off into a peaceful, dreamy sleep.

Her sweet dreams were broken an hour or so later by the buzzing of her phone. Cassie had sent her a message that read simply, "Well?"

Becca smiled as she sent smiley face, heart, and thumbs up emojis as a reply. She then turned off her phone and resumed her dreams.

*********

Logan became a regular visitor to Janice's office on the days he wasn't installing cabinets or when he was caught up at the shop. Being his own boss had its perks. Sometimes he brought flowers or other small gifts, and the sadness had left his face. He joked with Becca and picked on Janice mercilessly. Finally, he was living again.

Becca, for her part, underwent a change as well. Her face would light up each time Logan sent her a text message. Her transformation drew the attention of the clients, with several of them commenting to Janice about it. She would just shrug her shoulders and say the single word "love." Like Logan, Becca was living again.

They didn't talk about their pasts, at least not the dark parts, after that first night at Logan's house. They went out for dates, but mostly spent their evenings by the fireside in Logan's living room. Becca's apartment, while suitable for her needs, lacked the ambience of Logan's house. The cracks in their shells grew larger as Becca and Logan fell in love.

Thanksgiving was a few days away. Logan's parents had retired to Florida and would not be in town until Christmas, and the boys had already made arrangements to go to their girlfriends' houses in Greensboro and Newport News, respectively. Janice had invited Becca and Logan for a low-key meal at her house the Sunday after Thanksgiving. This left Logan to face the first big step outside his comfort zone: Thanksgiving dinner with Becca's family.

"Logan, they'll adore you!" Becca pleaded with him when he showed some hesitation at her invitation to the McQueen farm. "Mom and Dad know we're dating, and Cassie will worry the hell out of me if you don't come. Plus, I want you to meet my niece Lau-" Becca paused, unsure if she should continue.

"Laura?" Logan supplied the word. "It's okay, Becca. Somebody's got to have that name. I do appreciate knowing it beforehand, though. It might have caught me off guard in front of your family."

Becca squealed and clapped her hands. "Then you ARE going!"

"My dear, I wouldn't miss it for the world. So, how old is Laura?"

"She's four, full of spunk, has no filter, and will ask you a million questions. Consider yourself warned."

"You forget that I have a niece and nephew who aren't much older than that, and also that I have two boys of my own who were four once upon a time. I doubt she can say anything I haven't heard before." Logan would find out soon enough that he had underestimated the little girl's ability to ask questions.

Thanksgiving morning dawned clear and just cool enough for long sleeves. A few leaves still clung to the maples, pecans, and oaks in Logan's neighborhood, but most of the leaves had long since been raked into piles along the curbs for the sanitation department to pick up. Four geese flew southward in an uneven "V." Logan guessed that they were older stragglers who had been left behind while the rest of the flock made faster time, and wondered if they would be able to complete the trip to the wintering grounds in south Mississippi or Louisiana.

Fall was Logan's favorite time of year. Gone were the sweltering heat of summer and the pesky mosquitoes. Friday nights were for high school football, cheerleaders, and marching bands. He hadn't cared much for college football until Martin and Mitchell had enrolled at NC State, but he watched enough of the Wolfpack games now to be knowledgeable when the boys talked about the team on their visits home. He cared less than nothing about pro football, but October baseball got his blood pumping, especially since the Red Sox had won four World Series titles since they broke the "Curse of the Bambino" in 2004. Becca asked him about his obsession with the Sox one day.

"Why Boston? Most people around here are for the Braves if they are baseball fans at all."

"Laura went to a conference in Boston one year and I tagged along with her. One of the things I wanted to do was go to a game at Fenway Pahk," Logan explained, mimicking a New England accent. "I fell in love with the team then and the rest is history. It doesn't hurt that they have the best ballpark hot dogs I have ever eaten. They call them 'Fenway Franks.' I want to go back again, if only to eat a couple of hot dogs."

Logan carefully placed the pecan pie he had made, along with a thermos of coffee, in the passenger seat of his truck and headed to Becca's apartment. She was waiting for him and struggled towards the truck with a large picnic basket. He jumped out of the truck to help her and found that the basket was every bit as heavy as Becca's posture had indicated it was. He placed it in the floorboard with a heavy "thunk."

"My god, Becca. What's in here? Are your mom and Cassie not making anything? You must have a full spread in here."

"Be careful with that!" Becca ordered. "I didn't make that much. Just a sweet potato casserole, strawberry pretzel salad, yeast rolls, cream style corn, homemade cranberry sauce, and a pumpkin roll."

"Well, I'm glad you left it to someone else to bring the turkey, or do you have a bird in there, too? If there's room, you can set that pie I brought on top of the cornucopia."

"What kind of pie?" Becca asked with a worried look on her face.

"Pecan. Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Whew, I was afraid it might be chocolate. There's one of those in there, too."

"Damn, woman," Logan chuckled as they got underway. "This may hurt my gas mileage."

The drive to the farm took a little under an hour. Becca pointed out the turns as they drove through dewy fields and woodlots. Cattle grazed in the cool morning air, and as he rounded one bend in the road Logan had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting an impressive whitetail buck. Thankfully, the food was packed so tightly in the basket that none of it moved.

"This is beautiful country, Becca. You were lucky to get to grow up out here."

"Thank you, and you're right, I am lucky. I wish I hadn't taken it for granted when I wanted to get out of here so badly when I was 18. I made up for it, though. When I moved back, I helped Dad on the farm as much as I could between taking a class here and there and working full-time."

"Why didn't you finish your degree? I'll bet you've still got that writing bug within you."

"My heart wasn't in it anymore, Logan. After what happened in Asheville, I thought I would give App State a try after all. It was too much too soon, though, and I put those dreams to the side."

"Do you ever think about going back?"

"Sometimes, but not often. College is a young person's game, and - oh, sorry, Logan." She had temporarily forgotten that he was enrolled in school. She giggled one of her characteristically endearing giggles, then added teasingly, "You know, young? Like, under 50!" He grinned and swatted her on top of her thigh while her giggling grew into laughter.

Becca changed the subject. "I'm so glad you're with me today, Logan. I've never had a boyfriend to bring home for the holidays. I'm ready to show off my arm candy to everyone." More giggles.

"Now look," Logan retorted. "It wasn't a whole minute ago that I was on the verge of going into a nursing home and now I'm your 'arm candy?' Which is it, Becca?"

"You're my adorable, gentlemanly, elfin charming, specimen of North Carolina arm candy. Slow down; here's the driveway."

Logan turned onto a gravel drive framed by two brick pillars holding up a wrought iron gate. A capital letter "M" with a crown atop it was built into either side of the gate.             

"Get it? "M"- queen?" Becca giggled.

"Pretty witty, I'll admit," answered Logan. He could just see the top of a two-story house over the rise of the driveway. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney. The driveway was lined with mature maple trees. "I'll bet those were pretty a month ago. All those red leaves."

"Oh, Logan, you have no idea." Becca's voice was cheery as she described the fall foliage. "Dad planted all of these trees a year or two before Cassie was born. Mom wanted pretty trees lining the driveway and maples mature relatively quickly. Why am I telling you this? You're the wood artist, so I'm sure you already knew that."

"Wood artist?"

"Yes, Logan. What you do in those workshops of yours is art, whether it's cabinets, gun stocks, or piano benches. Your talent is just one of your many endearing qualities, Mr. Kringle."

Logan started to say something but the view before him left him speechless. They had crested the rise in the driveway, revealing a peaceful farmstead worthy of its own postcard. The white, two-story farmhouse was accented with western cedar beams and shutters and a patinaed metal roof. A porch wrapped around the three sides of the house Logan could see and he presumed it did the same on the back side, as well. Two ancient oak trees stood sentinel in front of the house. A mixed woodlot rolled for what seemed to be several acres on the left side of the property. To the right, a red barn trimmed in white stood before a wide, open field of white Charolais beef cattle. Logan stopped the truck to take in the view.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Becca asked quietly, as if trying to keep from breaking the spell the McQueen farm had placed on Logan.

"Oh, Becca. I've seen some pretty country around this state, but this takes the cake. 'Beautiful' doesn't begin to describe it. This is heaven."

"I'm glad you like it," Becca said through a proud smile. "Oh, here comes Daddy with Laura!"

A stout man who appeared to be in his mid-60s drove up beside Logan's truck in a John Deere Gator. Next to him sat a young girl with windblown blonde hair and red cheeks.

"Hi Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart. You folks going to come on down to the house, or are you just going to sit here blocking my driveway?" His smile and demeanor were warm and genuine. "Come on. Your mother will be happy to see you."

Logan reluctantly broke out of the spell the farmstead had cast on him and followed the drive the rest of the way to the house. Becca had scarcely opened her door when a blonde-haired bundle of energy grabbed her hand, pulled herself up and into her lap, and began talking 90 miles an hour.

"Aunt Becca, Aunt Becca! There are kitties in the barn! Grandpa says I can have one! Come with me and I'll show you!"

Becca wrapped her niece in a hug and kissed her on the cheek. "I'd like to go see those kitties! We've got to get our stuff unloaded first. Maybe you can show me after we eat Thanksgiving dinner. Laura, this is my friend Logan."

"Hi Logan! Do you want one of Grandpa's kitties? There are seven of them!"

Logan laughed at the little girl's enthusiasm over the kittens. "We'll see, Laura. Let me help your aunt get our stuff inside." As quickly as she had made her way into the truck, she was gone again. Logan heard her yelling, "Grandpa, Grandpa, can Logan have one of your kitties?"

"You're not having second thoughts about being here, are you?" Becca joked.

"Are you kidding? I haven't been here two minutes and I've already been offered a kitten. If I stick around long enough, I might get to take home one of those steers," Logan pointed to the pasture where the cattle grazed. His wide smile was mirrored by that of Becca. She removed one of the casserole dishes from the basket to lighten the load a bit for Logan. Bracing himself, he lifted the basket to his chest and struggled up the steps to the porch. A woman who could have passed for Becca's twin had it not been for her blonde hair and a few extra pounds held the door.

"You look like you could use some help," Cassie said. "Come on in and drop that load. The kitchen is straight ahead."

"I'd probably be better off not dropping it," Logan grunted. "I don't think that would make for a pleasant ride home."

Upon reaching the kitchen, Logan was met by a boisterous chorus of voices. The ringleader of the group was a jolly, red-faced woman who was sweating from her fussing over the meal preparation. She hugged Becca and smiled over her shoulder at Logan.

He extended his hand to the woman to introduce himself. "Hello, Mrs. McQueen, I'm Logan Mathews."

She corrected him quickly. "Charlotte. Mrs. McQueen is my mother-in-law, and she's on her way. Refusing his handshake, she threw her arms around his neck and said, "We greet family with hugs around here."

Family. That rattled Logan a little, but he recovered quickly. "Pleased to meet you, Charlotte." The hugs and greetings continued: Cassie, Tom, Laura, and Bud. A horn in the driveway heightened the din as Tom and Bud went out to help Granny McQueen with her things. At 89-years old, Granny was still spry and independent. She lived in a retirement community where help was available if needed, but she was usually the one doing the helping in the neighborhood. Becca had warned Logan about Granny.

"She's as blunt as a baseball bat and as subtle as a shotgun blast. Be prepared in case she embarrasses you, because she will."

"Who's that with Granny?" Cassie asked as she looked out the window at the commotion surrounding the latest arrival. Bud was offering his arm to an elderly gentleman who was struggling to get out of the car with his cane and an oxygen tank.

"She said she was bringing a friend is all I know," offered Charlotte. "Looks like you're not the only new man we have to interrogate today, Logan."

Logan felt his cheeks and ears turning red, but he still smiled widely. He felt comfortable here and looked forward to spending the afternoon getting to know Becca's family. He looked at Becca and saw that she seemed to be rattled. They made eye contact and he smiled again. As the party in the kitchen moved to the porch to welcome the new arrivals, he caught her hand and whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, just nervous, I guess," she whispered in reply.

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be nervous. Don't worry, I'm great. Your family is making me feel comfortable and at home. I'm having fun, Becca." Her face showed her relief as a smile replaced the worried look.

"Hi, Granny! Who's your friend?" Charlotte's voice rose above everyone else's.

"Everyone, this is Jim Coleman. Jim, this is everyone." Granny laughed at her own joke, then began proper introductions. When she came to Becca and Logan, she grabbed her granddaughter by both arms and said, louder than necessary, "Becca, dear, it's about time you showed up around here with a man." She leaned in as if to whisper in Becca's ear, but her 'whisper' was only a few decibels below a shout. "Good choice, hon. He's cute, even if he is a cradle robber!" Becca blushed as everyone around her, including Logan, roared with laughter. Her warning to Logan about Granny's propensity for embarrassing people had quickly proven to be true. It was Jim who turned the tables on Granny.

"Cradle robber? Folks, I'm only 81. If Logan's a cradle robber, then Sara here is a cougar!" The laughter turned to howls as it was now Granny's turn to blush.

"Well, if the introductions and embarrassments are complete, let's go inside and wash up. Dinner is ready," Charlotte announced.

Was it ever. The spread that lay before Logan's eyes threatened to collapse the dining room table. Turkey, dressing, vegetables, ham, and casseroles of all varieties left no one the least bit hungry.

"Ladies, you have outdone yourselves as always," Bud pronounced judgment on the meal. Logan, Jim, and Tom nodded their agreement.

"Ready for dessert?" Charlotte asked. A chorus of "no's" reverberated from around the table.

"Well, I have an idea," offered Bud, looking especially at Laura. "What's say we go out on the farm and cut a Christmas tree in a little while?"

Laura almost knocked over her chair as she jumped up and down. "Christmas tree! Christmas tree! Can I help with the orments?" Logan smiled at the little girl's mispronunciation of 'ornaments.'