The Lucky One

"You wouldn't like him," she volunteered. "In fact, I don't think he'd like you, either."

"No?"

"No. And consider yourself lucky. You're not missing anything."

He looked at her steadily, not saying anything. Remembering the way she had shut him down earlier, she supposed. She brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes, wondering whether to go on. "Do you want to hear about it?"

"Only if you want to tell me," he offered.

She felt her thoughts drifting from the present to the past and sighed. "It's the oldest story in the book . . . I was a nerdy high school senior, he was a couple of years older than me, but we'd gone to the same church for as long as I can remember, so I knew exactly who he was. We started going out a few months before I graduated. His family is well-off, and he'd always dated the most popular girls, and I guess I just got caught up in the fantasy of it all. I overlooked some obvious problems, made excuses for others, and the next thing you know, I found out I was pregnant. All of a sudden, my life just . . . changed, you know? I wasn't going to go to college that fall, I had no idea how to even be a mother, let alone a single mother; I couldn't imagine how I was going to pull it all off. The last thing in the world I expected was for him to propose. But for whatever reason, he did, and I said yes, and even though I wanted to believe that it was all going to work out and did my best to convince Nana that I knew what I was doing, I think both of us knew it was a mistake before the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. We had virtually nothing in common. Anyway, we argued pretty much constantly, and ended up separating soon after Ben was born. And then, I was really lost."

Logan brought his hands together. "But it didn't stop you."

"Stop me from what?"

"From eventually going to college and becoming a teacher. And figuring out how to be a single mother." He grinned. "And somehow pulling it off."

She gave him a grateful smile. "With Nana's help."

"Whatever it takes." He crossed one leg over the other, seeming to study her before he smirked. "Nerdy, huh?"

"In high school? Oh yeah. I was definitely nerdy."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want."

"So how did college work?"

"With Ben, you mean? It wasn't easy. But I already had some AP credits, which gave me a bit of a head start, and then I took classes at the community college while Ben was still in diapers. I took classes only two or three days a week while Nana took care of Ben, and I'd come home and study when I wasn't being Mom. Same thing when I transferred to UNC Wilmington, which was close enough to go to school and make it back here at night. It took me six years to get my degree and certificate, but I didn't want to take advantage of Nana, and I didn't want to give my ex any reason to get full custody. And back then, he might have tried for it, just because he could."

"He sounds like a charmer."

She grimaced. "You have no idea."

"You want me to beat him up?"

She laughed. "That's funny. There might have been a time when I would have taken you up on that, but not anymore. He's just . . . immature. He thinks every woman he meets is crazy for him, gets angry at little things, and blames other people when things go wrong. Thirty-one going on sixteen, if you know what I mean." From the side, she could sense Logan watching her. "But enough about him. Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

"Anything. I don't know. Why did you major in anthropology?"

He considered the question. "Personality, I guess."

"What does that mean?"

"I knew I didn't want to major in anything practical like business or engineering, and toward the end of my freshman year, I started talking to other liberal arts majors. The most interesting ones I met were anthropology majors. I wanted to be interesting."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. That's why I took the first introductory classes, at least. After that, I realized that anthropology is a great blend of history and supposition and mystery, all of which appealed to me. I was hooked."

"How about frat parties?"

"Not my thing."

"Football games?"

"No."

"Did you ever think you missed out on what college was supposed to be?"

"No."

"Me neither," she agreed. "Not once I had Ben, anyway."

He nodded, then gestured toward the woods. "Umm . . . do you think we should have Zeus find Ben now?"

"Oh, my gosh!" she cried, her tone slightly panicked. "Yes. He can find him, right? How long has it been?"

"Not long. Five minutes, maybe. Let me get Zeus. And don't worry. It won't take long."

Logan went to the door and opened it. Zeus trotted out, tail wagging, then wandered down the stairs. He immediately lifted a leg by the side of the porch, then trotted back up the stairs to Logan.

"Where's Ben?" Logan asked.

Zeus's ears rose. Logan pointed in the direction Ben had gone. "Find Ben."

Zeus turned and started trotting in wide arcs, nose to the ground. Within seconds, he'd picked up the trail and he vanished into the darkness.

"Should we follow him?" Beth asked.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

They'd barely reached the first of the trees when she heard Zeus emit a playful bark. Right after that, Ben's voice sounded in a squeal of delight. When she turned toward Logan, he shrugged.

"You weren't lying, were you?" she asked. "What was that? Two minutes?"

"It wasn't hard for him. I knew Ben wouldn't be too far away."

"What's the longest he's ever tracked something?"

"He followed a deer trail for, I don't know, eight miles or so? Something like that, anyway. He could have gone on, too, but it ended at someone's fence. That was in Tennessee."

"Why did you track the deer?"

"Practice. He's a smart dog. He likes to learn, and he likes to use his skills." At that moment, Zeus came padding out from the trees, Ben a step behind him. "Which is why this is just as much fun for him as it is for Ben."

"That was amazing!" Ben called out. "He just walked right up to me. I wasn't making a sound!"

"You want to do it again?" Logan asked.

"Can I?" Ben pleaded.

"If it's okay with your mom."

Ben turned to his mother, and she raised her hands. "Go ahead."

"Okay, put him inside again. And I'm really going to hide this time," Ben declared.

"You got it," Logan said.

The second time Ben hid, Zeus found him in a tree. The third time, with Ben retracing his steps in an attempt to throw him off, Zeus found him a quarter mile away, in his tree house by the creek. Beth wasn't thrilled with this final choice; the unstable bridge and platform always seemed far more dangerous at night, but by then, Ben was getting tired and ready to call it quits anyway.

Logan followed them back to the house. After saying good night to an exhausted Ben, he turned to Beth and cleared his throat. "I want to thank you for a great evening, but I should probably be heading home," he said.

Despite the fact that it was close to ten o'clock, part of her didn't want him to go just yet.

"Do you need a ride?" she offered. "Ben will be asleep in a couple of minutes, and I'd be glad to bring you home."

"I appreciate the offer, but we'll be fine. I like to walk."

"I know. I don't know much about you, but I do know that." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be here at seven."

"I can feed the dogs if you'd rather come in a bit later."

"It's no problem. And besides, I'd like to see Ben before he leaves. And I'm sure Zeus will, too. Poor guy probably won't know what to do without Ben chasing him."

"All right, then . . ." She hugged her arms, suddenly disappointed at the thought of Logan's departure.

"Would it be okay if I borrowed the truck tomorrow? I need to run into

town to get a few things to fix the brakes. If not, I can walk."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know. But it's not a problem. I have to drop Ben off and run some errands, but if I don't see you, I'll just put the keys under the mat on the driver's side."

"Fine," he said. He looked directly at her. "Good night, Elizabeth."

"Good night, Logan."

Once he was gone, Beth checked on Ben and gave him another kiss on the cheek before going to her room. She replayed the evening as she undressed, musing on the mystery of Logan Thibault.

He was different from any man she'd ever met, she thought, and then immediately chided herself for being so obvious. Of course he was different, she told herself. He was new to her. She'd never spent much time with him before. Even so, she reasoned she was mature enough to recognize the truth when she saw it.

Logan was different. Lord knows Keith wasn't anything like him. Nor, in fact, was anyone else she'd dated since the divorce. Most of those men had been fairly easy to read; no matter how polite and charming or rough and unrefined they might be, everything they did seemed like transparent efforts at getting her into bed. "Man crap," as Nana described it. And Nana, she knew, wasn't wrong.

But with Logan . . . well, that was the thing. She had no idea what he wanted from her. She knew he found her attractive, and he seemed to enjoy her company. But after that, she had absolutely no idea what his intentions might be, since he seemed to enjoy Ben's company as well. In a way, she thought, he treated her like a number of the married men she knew: You're pretty and you're interesting, but I'm already taken.

It occurred to her, though, that maybe he was taken. Maybe he had a girlfriend back in Colorado, or maybe he'd just broken up with the love of his life and was still getting over it. Thinking back, she realized that even though he'd described the things he'd seen and done on his journey across the country, she still had no idea why he'd gone on the walk in the first place or why he'd decided to end his trek in Hampton. His history wasn't so much mysterious as hidden, which was strange. If she'd learned one thing about men, it was that they liked to talk about themselves: their jobs, their hobbies, past accomplishments, their motivations. Logan did none of those things. Puzzling.

She shook her head, thinking she was probably reading too much into it. It wasn't as if they'd gone out on a date, after all. It was more like a friendly get-together--tacos, chess, and conversation. A family event.

She put on pajamas and picked up a magazine from her bedside table. She absently flipped through the pages before turning out the light. But when she closed her eyes, she kept visualizing the way the corners of his mouth would turn up slightly whenever she said something he found humorous or the way his eyebrows knit together when he concentrated on a task. For a long time, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, wondering if maybe, just maybe, Logan was awake and thinking of her, too.

13

Thibault

Thibault watched as Victor cast his line into the cool Minnesota water. It was a cloudless Saturday morning. The air was still, the lake mirroring the pristine skies. They had set out on the lake early, wanting to fish before it became crowded with Jet Skis and speedboats. It was their last day of vacation; tomorrow, both were scheduled to fly out. For their final evening, they planned to eat at a local steak house they'd heard was the best in town.

"I think you'll be able to find this woman," Victor announced without preamble.

Thibault was reeling in his own line. "Who?"

"The woman in the photo who brings you luck."

Thibault squinted at his friend. "What are you talking about?"

"When you look for her. I think you'll be able to find her."

Thibault inspected his hook carefully and cast again. "I'm not going to look for her."

"So you say now. But you will."

Thibault shook his head. "No, I won't. And even if I wanted to, there's no way I could."

"You'll find a way." Victor sounded smug in his certainty.

Thibault stared at his friend. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"Because," Victor pronounced, "it's not over yet."

"Believe me, it's over."

"I know you think so. But it isn't."

Thibault had learned long ago that once Victor started on a topic, he would continue to expound on it until he was satisfied he'd made his point. Because it wasn't the way Thibault wanted to spend their last day, he figured he might as well get it over with once and for all.

"Okay," he said, sighing. "Why isn't it over?"

Victor shrugged. "Because there is no balance."

"No balance," Thibault repeated, his tone flat.

"Yes," Victor said. "Exactly. You see?"

"No."

Victor groaned at Thibault's denseness. "Say someone comes to put a roof on your house. The man works hard, and at the end, he is paid. Only then is it over. But in this case, with the photograph, it is as if the roof has been put on, but the owner has not paid. Until payment is made, everything is out of balance."

"Are you saying that I owe this woman something?" Thibault's voice was skeptical.

"Yes. The photo kept you safe and brought you luck. But until payment is made, it is not over."

Thibault reached for a soda in the cooler. He handed one to Victor. "You do realize you sound insane."

Victor accepted the can with a nod. "To some, maybe. But eventually, you will look for her. There is a greater purpose to all this. It is your destiny."

"My destiny."

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. But you will know it when you get there."

Thibault stayed quiet, wishing Victor had never brought up the subject. In the silence, Victor studied his friend.

"Maybe," he speculated, "you're meant to be together."

"I'm not in love with her, Victor."

"No?"

"No," he said.

"And yet," Victor observed, "you think about her often."

To this, Thibault said nothing, for there was nothing he could say.

On Saturday morning, Thibault arrived early and went straight to work at the kennels, feeding, cleaning, and training as usual. While he worked, Ben played with Zeus until Elizabeth called him inside to get ready to go. She waved from her spot on the porch, but even from a distance, he could see she was distracted.

She had gone back inside by the time he took the dogs out; he usually walked them in groups of three, with Zeus trailing behind him. Away from the house, he would let the dogs off the leash, but they tended to follow behind him no matter what direction he headed. He liked to vary the route he took; the variety kept the dogs from wandering too far away. Like people, dogs got bored if they did the same thing every day. Usually, the walks lasted about thirty minutes per group. After the third group, he noticed that Elizabeth's car was gone, and he assumed she'd gone to drop Ben off at his father's.

He didn't like Ben's father, mostly because Ben and Elizabeth didn't. The guy sounded like a piece of work, but it wasn't his place to do much more than listen when she talked about him. He didn't know enough to offer any advice, and even if he did, she wasn't asking for any. In any event, it wasn't his business.

But what was his business, then? Why was he here? Despite himself, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Victor, and he knew he was here because of what Victor had said to him that morning at the lake. And, of course, because of what happened later.

He forced the memory away. He wasn't going to go there. Not again.

Calling to the dogs, Thibault turned and made for the kennels. After putting the dogs away, he went to explore the storage shed. When he turned on the light in the shed, he stared at the walls and shelves in amazement. Elizabeth's grandfather didn't have just a few tools--the place resembled a cluttered hardware store. He wandered inside, scanning the racks and sorting through the Snap-on tool cabinets and piles of items on the workbench. He eventually picked out a socket wrench set, a

couple of adjustable and Allen wrenches, and a jack and carried them out to the truck. As Elizabeth had promised, the keys were under the mat. Thibault drove down the driveway, heading for the auto supply store he vaguely remembered seeing near downtown.

The parts were in stock--replacement pads, C-clamp, and some high-temp grease--and he was back at the house in less than half an hour. He put the jack in place and raised the car, then removed the first wheel. He retracted the piston with the C-clamp, removed the old pad, checked the rotors for damage, and reinstalled a new pad before replacing the wheel and repeating the process with the other wheels.

He was finishing the third brake pad when he heard Elizabeth pull up, rolling to a stop next to the old truck. He glanced over his shoulder just as she got out, realizing she'd been gone for hours.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Just about done."

"Really?" She sounded amazed.

"It's just brake pads. It's not a big deal."

"I'm sure that's the same thing a surgeon would say. It's just an appendix."

"You want to learn?" Thibault asked, staring up at her figure silhouetted against the sky.

"How long does it take?"

"Not long." He shrugged. "Ten minutes?"

"Really?" she repeated. "Okay. Just let me get the groceries inside."

"Need help?"

"No, it's just a couple of bags."

He slipped the third wheel back on and finished tightening the lug nuts before moving to the final wheel. He loosened the nuts just as Elizabeth reached his side. When she squatted beside him, he could smell a hint of the coconut lotion she'd applied earlier that morning.

"First, you take the wheel off . . . ," he began, and methodically walked her through the process, making sure she understood each step. When he lowered the jack and started to collect the tools, she shook her head.

"That seemed almost too easy. I think even I could do it."

"Probably."

"Then why do they charge so much?"

"I don't know."

"I'm in the wrong line of work," she said, rising and gathering her hair into a loose ponytail. "But thank you for taking care of it. I've wanted those fixed for a while now."

"No problem."

"Are you hungry? I picked up some fresh turkey for sandwiches. And some pickles."

"That sounds delicious," he said.

They had lunch on the back porch, overlooking the garden. Elizabeth still seemed distracted, but they chatted a little about what it was like to grow up in a small southern town, where everyone knew everything about everybody else. Some of the stories were amusing, but Thibault admitted that he preferred a more anonymous existence.