Page 26 of Knowing Amelia

“Have you been here ever since?” I ask, removing my hand from his. I have become a Logan vacuum. I need to suck up all the Logan knowledge I can before I leave for home.

“No.” His eyes study me. Maybe it’s polite eye contact, but then I’m not sure polite would make my heart race this way. “My aunt Kathy came back here, lived with me until I graduated. Then I was on my own. I went to school in Alaska for a couple years.”

“What brought you back?”

“I missed home. So, I came back and took over my dad’s business.”

“What’s that?” I cannot get enough.

“Mechanics. My dad taught me. I’ve never been formally educated as a mechanic, but I know what I’m doing.”

I wonder about Logan’s dad. Was he like Logan? “Is that really what you want to do?” I ask, thinking of Dad and the help he’s given me with my education. I’ve let the two most dominant men in my life guide me down my career path. They’ve assured me again and again that I’ve made a wise choice. But it’s a choice I’m not certain I’ve actually made, rather one I’ve been coerced into. I can’t imagine Logan giving in like I have. “What did you go to school for?”

“I studied art. I still study it, just not in a classroom. But I like working with my hands. Mechanics makes me happy.”

“Art, huh?” I realize I don’t know Logan, but his answer surprises me. My subconscious seems to think we’ve been friends since we were kids, since that day I first saw him. As if I should have known the answer.

“Art has always been a love of mine, but it’s more of a hobby. What about you, what do you love doing?”

My instincts shout reading, but my trained self recites, “I’m going into medicine. I’m not sure which field yet. I’ve just been getting my generals done.”

He grins. Logan’s grin might light a dark space. “So, you love helping people. That’s nice.”

“Umm, sure, I don’t dislike helping people. I guess I haven’t thought about it like that.” But I should have.

He laughs. “You’re going into the medical field and you’re not sure you like helping people?”

“No.” I shake my head, trying to think. “I do. I do like to help people.”

“You’re sure?” His eyes widen with the tease.

“Sort of.”

He leans back in his seat, his pasta half-eaten. “What does that mean?”

“That means I didn’t want to be a lawyer.” The words are out without permission. I gasp and slap a hand over my mouth. I’ve never said that out loud. Never. Sure, I’ve thought it a few times on rougher days, but I’ve never spoken it. Not to Benjamin, not to Mom, not even to my cynical roommate Lynn.

“I’m lost. What does that have to do with anything?”

Crossing my arms, I feel my defenses rise. There’s a reason I don’t talk about this. I don’t exactly come out looking good. I’ve never thought of myself as weak or unintelligent, but discussing this makes me question that, so what compels me to share with the supreme being across from me, I’ll never know. “That means I was given two choices: law or medicine. And I wasn’t about to follow in my dad’s footsteps and join Benson and Clyde.”

Logan studies me, his brow wrinkling.

“My dad is a good man, but he isn’t like yours. He has very specific expectations for me. He gave me two options.”

His intense look doesn’t falter. Maybe he doesn’t believe me.

“I’m serious. Two. That’s all I got.”

Leaning in, Logan meets my eyes. “You realize there is a third option.”

My turn to gape in confusion. “What would that be?”

His hazel eyes, with more green than brown, pierce me. “Do what you want to.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand.” No one does—that’s why I don’t share this story. “It’s different. I—I can’t do that.” And the fact is, I’ve never considered his question before. What do I want to do? Can one read for a living? No. So, I’ve never thought about it.

“Sure you can,” he says, shoving his last bite of pasta into his mouth.