The Lucky One(72)

Beth shifted in her seat. “I’m not sure I like that analogy.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like it. All that matters is whether it’s true.”

“And you think it is?”

“That’s not what I said. What I said was that it wouldn’t surprise me. And don’t tell me you’re surprised, either. I’ve seen the way he still looks you up and down. It gives me the willies, and it’s all I can do to keep from clobbering him with the pooper-scooper.”

Beth smiled, but it lasted only an instant. When the toast popped up, Nana grabbed the pieces and put them on a plate. She dribbled melted butter over the top, then added sugar and cinnamon. She brought over the plate and set it in front of Beth.

“Here. Eat something. You’re skeletal these days.”

“I weigh the same as I always have.”

“Which isn’t enough. It’s never been enough. If you’re not careful, you’ll blow away in the storm.” She nodded toward the window as she took her seat again. “It’s going to be a big one. Which is good. We need the rain. I hope we don’t have any howlers in the kennel.”

Howlers were dogs that were afraid of storms, and they made life miserable for the other dogs. Beth recognized the conversation’s shift as an opportunity to change the subject. Nana usually offered a way out, but as Beth took a bite of her toast, she realized there was something else she wanted to discuss.

“I think they’ve met before,” she finally said.

“Who? Thibault and the loser?”

Beth raised her hands. “Please don’t call him that. I know you don’t like him, but he’s still Ben’s father and I don’t want you to get into the habit of calling him that when Ben can hear you. I know he’s not here right now . . .”

Nana gave a rueful smile. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I won’t say it again. But what were you telling me?”

“Do you remember when I told you about the night Keith brought Ben back home with the black eye? You were at your sister’s . . .” She saw Nana nod. “Last night, I got to thinking about it. I didn’t pick up on it then, but when Keith saw Logan, he didn’t ask who Logan was. Instead, it was like a switch went on and he got angry right away. He said something like, ‘What are you doing here?’”

“So?” Nana’s expression was blank.

“It was the way he said it. He wasn’t so much surprised that some man was at the house as much as he was surprised that Logan in particular was at the house. Like Logan was the last person he’d expected to see.”

“What does Thibault say?”

“He hasn’t said anything. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? That they’ve crossed paths before? Since he thinks Keith broke into his house?”

“Maybe,” Nana said, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Did Thibault say what he thought your ex might be looking for?”

“No,” she said, “he didn’t. Other than to say that there wasn’t much to find.”

“Which is a way of answering the question without really answering it.”

“Mmm,” Beth agreed. She took another bite of toast, thinking there was no way she could finish all of it.

Nana leaned forward. “And that worries you, too?”

“A little,” Beth said, giving a small nod.

“Because you feel like he’s keeping something from you?”

When Beth didn’t answer, Nana reached across the table and took her hand. “I think you’re worrying about the wrong things here. Maybe your ex broke into Thibault’s house, and maybe he didn’t. Maybe they have come across each other before, or maybe not. But neither of those things is as important as whether or not your ex has been working behind the scenes against you. If I were you, that’s what I’d be concerned about because that’s the part that mainly affects you.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “I say that because I’ve seen you and Thibault together, and it’s obvious how much he cares for you. And I think the reason he told you his suspicions was because he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to him that’s happened to the other men you’ve dated.”

“So you think Logan is right?”

“Yes,” Nana said. “Don’t you?”

It took a long time for Beth to respond. “I think so, too.”

It was one thing to think it; it was another thing to be sure. After their conversation, Beth changed into her jeans, threw on her raincoat, and drove into town. The rain had started in earnest a couple of hours earlier, a gusty downpour powered by a tropical storm that had come up through Georgia by way of South Carolina. The news was predicting six to eight inches of rain in the next twenty-four hours, with more to come. Two more storms in the Gulf of Mexico had come ashore in recent days and were expected to eventually roll through the area as well, bringing even more rain. The hot, dry summer was officially coming to an end.

Beth could barely see through the windshield even with the wipers at full speed. The gutters were beginning to flood, and as she drove toward town she saw jagged eddies of water making their way to the river. So far, the river hadn’t risen yet, but it would: Nearly every tributary within fifty miles fed it, and she suspected the river would reach the flood stage before long. The town could handle flooding; storms like these were a part of life in this region of the country, and most of the businesses were far enough away from the river to avoid most of the effects of all but the most exceptional of storms. The road that led to the kennel—because it ran parallel to the river—was another story. In heavy storms, especially during hurricanes, the river would sometimes stretch across it, making passage dangerous. It wouldn’t be a problem today, but later in the week, she suspected things might get a lot worse.