“Storm’s a Fraser. Crew not cargo. She comes to work with me.”
“You have her scraping barnacles already? Your father would be so proud.”
“She actually runs the place. I wish I was joking,” he added as she chuckled.
“Be serious now. That’s not ideal. You trying to work while you have her full-time? My real reason for calling—”
Here we go. He’d known she would have an ulterior motive.
“—is to say I’ll come up. I want to meet Emma’s family anyway. I was waiting to find out when the children’s end of year assembly will be held.” She was very involved with her husband Tan’s grandkids, which was a boon for Logan. It kept the pressure off him to provide her with any. “That’s Wednesday so I can come on the Thursday ferry. I’ll stay the night at Barb’s and come over in the morning.”
Barb lived close to the ferry slip in Bella Bella and ran a B and B. She picked up and delivered guests all through the summer so it didn’t bother her that the ferry landed at midnight. It was just a fact of life here so it wasn’t the reason Logan protested, either.
“Mom, I’ve got it.” He was still stinging from Sophie’s lecture about three men and a nanny. “I’m given to understand that single parents handle their own shit without help all the time.”
I don’t have the luxury of trusting that someone else is doing anything.
He had wanted to make some caustic remark about, Whose fault is that? seeing as she had been so reluctant to let him do anything.
“Also, I’m staying with Art and Sophie. There isn’t actually a bed for you, not once Reid and Emma get back from the cruise.”
He waited for her to take issue with his staying at Sophie’s, but she only said, “There’s always a bed for me. Biyen will be camping with Nolan. I’ll sleep in his.”
How many spies did she have on this island?
“Are you coming to check on me and Storm? Or me and Sophie?” he asked with suspicion.
“Do you need to be checked on?”
“No.”
“Then I’m coming to visit my son and offering to help with the baby.”
“You know you don’t have to keep taking care of Dad’s kids, right?” Wilf’s marriage to Reid’s mom had fallen apart because of his affair with Glenda, but when Miriam hadn’t been able to keep Reid, Glenda had insisted Reid come live with them. Seeing as she already had Wilf’s third son from yet another affair in her house, that had seemed like a perfectly rational solution to everyone except Logan.
“You know you don’t have to stay angry with me for wanting to, don’t you?” his mother said mildly.
“I’m not.” He was so angry with her for it.
The sound of a mower started up in the distance. He set his grocery bag beside the washtub at the end of Art’s driveway where the deer had chewed the flowers down to green stubble.
“I shouldn’t have become involved with your father. Is that what you need to hear?” His mother said in his ear. “I was wrong to sleep with a married man who had a new baby at home. God knows Miriam was set up for failure, dragged into isolation with a newborn. You have a taste of parenting now so you can begin to understand how much stress that puts on a person.”
Miriam’s mental health struggles hadn’t been properly diagnosed yet, either. Everyone had more compassion for her these days, but thirty years ago, the prevailing opinion had been that Wilf was the victim, married to an unreasonable woman. His affair with Glenda had been shrugged off as justified.
“I should have supported Miriam, not him,” his mother continued. “But I refuse to say I regret having you. Or that I regret staying married to him as long as I did. I loved him, Logan.”
“I know.” Maybe he did, too, beneath his resentment.
“And Pauline, goodness, she was a child,” she said, mentioning Trystan’s mother. “I could have killed him for taking advantage of her, but I couldn’t judge her for being the other woman, could I? Not when I’d been one myself. Trystan deserved to know his father and brother, same as you. His living with us while Pauline finished her degree made perfect sense.”
It made for a cheap soap opera, in Logan’s opinion, but one of his earliest memories was crying in Trystan’s bed because Trystan had left for Christmas with his mom. He had never admitted that to anyone and never would.
“And Reid? What was I supposed to do? Let him go into foster care when Miriam was so unwell? I was the reason for their divorce. I contributed to her troubles. He needed stability so I did what I could to provide it for him.”
“I know, Mom.” Logan looked to the sky, having heard all of this before, but for the first time, he saw the decisions she had made through a different lens—that of a pseudo parent.
He understood how she could feel an obligation to a child she hadn’t made because he hadn’t made his little sister, yet felt responsible for her. Storm was so freaking helpless. She hadn’t asked for her mom and dad to die. She couldn’t speak or walk or even feed herself. Someone had to look out for her.
Much as it sounded like a convenient solution for Tiffany’s sister to swoop in and take her, Logan couldn’t stomach it. How would he know whether Storm was clean and dry and fed unless he was there to ensure it?
“I’m not mad, Mom,” he said on a sigh. “Really.”
There would always be this jagged hole of disillusion behind his breastbone, one formed by his father’s behavior, but he couldn’t blame Glenda for it. She had only done what she thought was right.
Reid had come to live with them when Logan was seven. He’d been a year older than Logan, sullen, and had brought a PlayStation he very begrudgingly shared. The tougher adjustment for Logan had been the way their off-beat blended family had become the talk of the town. That’s when Logan had learned his mother was a home-wrecker, his father a cheat.
Why did she stay with him? had been the question that had dogged him through his teens, especially when his father was so hard on all of them.
She had done it for them, was what she had always said. For him, he realized now. So he would grow up with his brothers, little as he had appreciated that.
Turning her away right now, when she was only trying to be herself—supportive and maternal—would be ungrateful in the extreme. God knew Sophie would have nothing but contempt for him if he refused to see his mother.
Hell, his mother would mother her while she was here, which was reason enough to accept her offer.
“If you really want to come, I’d appreciate it,” he said. “Art would like to see you, I’m sure.”
“Good. I’ll see you Friday, then. I love you.”
