Page 51 of Knowing Amelia

Giddy, I cross the threshold into Logan’s clean, simple home. Books clutter together on a shelf in the corner. There’s no television, only an old couch facing the front window and a coffee table. Two framed pieces of artwork hang on the back wall, one a hillside and starry sky, the other a house in the distance. I don’t recognize the style, and while I’m not exactly educated in the arts, I’m certain they came from the same creator. But I know authors, not artists.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t contribute to our meal,” I say as I continue to take in Logan’s home.

“Not a problem.” He motions toward the kitchen. “Everything’s ready.”

A sweet and spicy aroma grows stronger as we head into the kitchen. Logan’s kitchen and dining area are one unified space, unlike the open but clear separation of Amelia’s. The room is cozy and laid out functionally.

He stirs the sauce on top of the stove, then peeks inside the oven. His damp hair curls more than normal, with a sprig falling across his forehead, reminding me slightly of Clark Kent.

Hot air wooshes from the oven as Logan shuts the metal door. Turning, he faces me. “I’m going to Cody tomorrow if you’d like to join me. Groceries are more affordable there.”

“Yes!” I say, a little too eager. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.” I run my hand through my straightened hair, accidentally tugging out strands of strawberry blonde. “You’re such a good neighbor, Logan. No wonder Amelia liked you.”

“Amelia and I were friends.” He leans against the kitchen counter, watching me.

“Right.” I pull out a chair and sit at the table, my eyes wandering from my fidgeting hands to his face. “That’s what I meant. You’re a good friend. That’s why I feel like I can talk to you.”

“Right. Your secret.” He crosses his arms over his chest, a grin playing on his lips. And while I am focused—this is serious—I can’t help feeling distracted by Logan’s forearm. It’s staring at me from his fold, and it’s impressive.

“Yes.” I fidget in my seat. “My secret.” My cheeks flush with the words.

Serving dishes in hand, Logan sits across from me. He dishes spicy Chinese chicken over a bed of white rice on two plates, then pushes one in front of me. “How was your first day of work?” he says, not pressuring me to spill my tea. It’s as if this meal, this conversation, is a perfectly normal thing for us to do.

“It was good. I enjoyed myself. Rachel is good company, and I like helping the students.” I halt my filled fork halfway to my mouth. “In fact, that reminds me. Do you have the internet?” Amelia certainly doesn’t.

“Yeah, do you need it?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. There’s this boy—you know him—Andrew Peterman. He’s one of a few seniors not signed up for college. He says he wants to go into welding and hasn’t considered college. He’s planning to learn from his dad. I just want to give him some information, show him that college can help.” It occurs to me in that second that Logan learned mechanics from his father and that it successfully employs him today.

“That’s a good idea. Andrew’s a bright kid.”

“Yeah… that’s what I was thinking.” I watch him, my fork hovering, waiting for him to find offense at my words. “College isn’t for everyone, but I thought I could help him make a more informed decision."

He nods. “That’s kind of you to help him out.”

My mind has wandered from Andrew though. I need to know more about Logan. It’s this incessant, uncontrollable need. “Did you ever think about going back to college?”

“Sure. The two years I spent in Alaska were great, but in the end, my place was here. I learned a lot, but I knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be.”

“How? How did you know? Four years of school and I still don’t know.” Someone needs to share with me the secret formula for figuring life out. Because the fact is, while I’ve been taking my time getting a bachelor’s degree in biology with the intent of going into medicine, it isn’t something I’m longing to do.

“You just let other voices get in your head.”

I set my fork down, unable to stop my glare. “You have no idea how badly I wish I could argue with that.”

He laughs and swallows down the bite he just took. “What’s right for one person isn’t right for another. I knew this is where I needed to be, so here I am.”

“Hmm.” I slump in my seat. “So, maybe I shouldn’t bug Andrew with college info?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. We all need guidance at times, but when it comes down to it, we have to decide for ourselves. You’re giving him options, and that’s great. Education is priceless. I hope he goes.”

“Did your parents go to school?”

“No, they graduated from high school but never left Rendezvous.”

“What are their names? You said they married young. How young?” My gut tells me Logan won’t mind answering questions about his parents. He told me he’d rather people ask than assume. So—I’m asking.

“Janie and Joseph.” He looks past me, seeming to leave this place and time for the moment. He slides his chair out with a squeak and stands. Walking into the hall, I can see him as he removes a framed photograph from the wall. Sitting across from me once more, he passes the picture to me. “They both had a semester of high school left when they decided to marry. My dad’s family was moving. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Mom.”