Say You'll Marry Me
“I really wanted to.”
“I know, Gram.”
Logan still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but whatever it was, the emotion in June’s whisper-soft voice tore at both Joy and her grandpa.
The older woman’s gaze locked on Logan once more, her embarrassment swimming in tears. “You look like Joy’s Luke, that’s why I was confused. I’m sorry.”
He quickly held up a hand and offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, June. No apologies necessary.”
“Grandma, can you help me into the house to get some ice on m
y ankle?”
Logan recognized the distraction. So did June, judging by the distress on her face. But she went, and after the women disappeared into the house, he turned to his boss for an explanation. Everyone knew June Dolinski was a little…eccentric, but what had just happened was definitely more than that. Because, damn, the idea of him and Joy being engaged was as crazy as aliens mining on the back side of the moon.
Resignation wreathed Al’s features, and after one last glance at the house, he gestured Logan toward the barn. “Sorry about that, son.”
“Is everything okay?”
The older man shook his head as they walked, his shoulders bowed in defeat. “June was diagnosed with early onset dementia back in March.”
Logan frowned at the news. “Sorry to hear that. I’ve heard it’s not easy.”
“Right now, she gets confused sometimes, and some days are worse than others. We’ve only told a very few people, close friends, and a couple of Joy’s girlfriends. June doesn’t want the whole town to know, and most of the time if something happens when we’re out, we’ve been able to pass it off as June being…well, June. On the bad days, Joy or I stay home with her.”
Understanding dawned, along with a whole heap of silent humility. Joy hadn’t been hanging around the house doing nothing all summer; she was caring for her grandmother. Sure made him see things—her especially—in a different light.
“I won’t say anything,” he assured Al.
“I appreciate that. Joy taught me with the little things it’s better to play along with whatever she believes to keep her from getting upset, but in your case…” The older man gave him a sheepish look.
“Yeah, um, thanks. That was a little awkward.”
They spoke for a few more minutes near the elevator, and then Logan headed for his truck to switch out the empty hay wagon for the full one from the back field. This next unload would go a lot slower without the surprisingly good help he’d had from Joy this morning.
When he drove past the house a minute later, he noticed she and her grandmother had returned to the porch. June smiled and waved, not looking the least bit upset. Did she now know it was him, or think he was Joy’s no-good cheating ex again? Logan fought a frown at being confused for the guy, though he did lift his hand in response while his attention shifted to Joy.
She had her foot propped up on a chair in front of her, a blue ice pack resting across her ankle. Her head turned to track his progress, but her expression remained solemn. No hand wave, no acknowledgement. As he made his way out to the field, he wondered if she’d moved home only for her grandmother, or was she hiding out after her failed engagement?
Then he reminded himself he didn’t care one way or the other.
Chapter 3
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“That Luke sure is a handsome boy.”
“Yes, he is.” From Joy’s vantage point on the porch, her gaze tracked Logan’s progress as he led the horses from the barn to turn them out on pasture for the day. Two days had passed since she’d twisted her ankle. Two days of recalling the feel of his strong arms carrying her to the house every time she saw him. Didn’t help that she watched for him more than ever.
Her grandma absently patted Sweet Pea’s head when the pot-bellied pig nosed her hand for attention. “And such a gentleman. You picked good, dear.”
Not so much, Gram.
Joy sipped her lemonade as she went on and on about Logan, who in her mind was actually Luke. Her future grandson-in-law. Each time she’d tried to correct her over the past couple days, Gram had gotten upset, which only seemed to deepen the effects of the dementia. Joy had stopped doing anything other than nod, and occasionally agree with her out loud—when warranted.
Like when she mentioned how good looking he was. Logan, not Luke—because Joy knew exactly which man stood in her line of sight. Grandma had said he looked like Luke, but saying they looked alike was like comparing suave and debonair to rugged and rough around the edges.
The only thing the two had in common was dark hair, and even then, Luke’s was near black; Logan’s was dark brown, kissed by the sun, with a hint of untamed curl at the ends. Luke’s eyes had been a smoky blue, not Logan’s burnt caramel brown. He hadn’t been anywhere near as muscled as Logan, either, and always clean shaven, well-groomed, and dressed in the most up-to-date fashions.