Roz Fox - More Than a Memory

Garret took a swallow of his coffee, which gave him time to process the new information. “She left White Oak Valley before she graduated. Do you think her visit has to do with that?” he muttered, finally setting his mug down. “Nah, any information she needed from the school she could get by phone.”

“Garret, we were discussing you helping your dad.”

Yeah, and he’d never hear the end of it if he turned her down. Not that he would. His dad had undergone a triple bypass the previous year, and the boys pitched in with heavy chores whenever possible. “Sure, I’ll go with Dad.” Besides, Garret figured it’d be smart to clear his mind before he talked to Colleen. “Give me a minute to let Domino run around the backyard first. Oh, and top off my coffee, will you? Then we can take off.”

“Really? Fantastic.” Clare sprang from her chair to get the coffee. “Do you feel like a breakfast roll yet? I used almond flavoring in the glaze just for you.”

He opened his mouth to refuse, then decided to save his arguments for the battle that was sure to come when his family learned about his plans to confront Colleen—even if he had to follow her to Boston. One way or another, he’d made up his mind that they were going to meet again. Today, he wasn’t up to a skirmish with her or his family, especially considering the way his head split when he whistled Domino back into the house.

But Garret knew he’d have it out with any or all of the Logans if they interfered with his seeing Colleen. He’d wasted one night trying to numb the shock of learning she was very much alive. Now it was time, as his mother had said earlier, to act like a man. A Logan. Surely she hadn’t forgotten what set Logan men apart from others. They believed in love at first sight and were loyal to that one woman forever.

There wasn’t much point in inviting another lecture by reminding his mom of that fact, Garret thought as they drove into town. When they arrived, he glanced over at the house where Colleen Drake had once lived.

So many memories had been woven between them over the years, until his life had been shattered by the news of her death. Only, she hadn’t died, and now she was back. Garret kept circling back to why.

JO RECOGNIZED the White Oak Valley High School building from the yearbooks she’d found. Hope had faded that she and Colleen weren’t one and the same person. And still it bothered her that driving up to the school evoked no memories beyond the photographs. While she had begun to accept that it was her picture in the yearbooks, and those were her talent awards, she wasn’t able to fathom that she’d hurt Garret Logan. She’d never been close enough to anyone to hurt them.

Kendra Rowan had volunteered to accompany Jo to the high school. It was only after she walked through the doors and didn’t know where to start asking questions, that Jo wished she had accepted the offer.

City schools had security guards at the entrances. Here, a person could wander at will. Jo stopped to study trophies in a case that ran the length of the main hall. There were awards for soccer, wrestling, basketball and 4-H ribbons. She looked for Colleen Drake’s name but didn’t find it. The name Logan figured prominently on a number of plaques and trophies. Jo concluded it was a big family.

In the office she was greeted by a woman working at a computer. “I came across some old yearbooks from this school when I was cleaning out a closet after my mother died. I just wondered if there are any teachers who would’ve taught here eight or nine years ago still on staff. I’d be willing to make an appointment to see someone after school or during a break. I’d really like to talk to them.”

“Eight or nine years ago? The board offered a really great retirement package four years ago. Most people who were eligible took the offer.”

“That’s disappointing, but I’m not surprised. Thank you anyway.” Jo had nearly reached the door, when the woman called her back. “Wait. Mr. Rice, our music instructor, came out of retirement at our new principal’s request. I don’t know if he’d be of any help, but he has a prep period that runs for another fifteen minutes. You’re welcome to see if he’s in the music room.”

Jo’s heart beat faster at that news. “I’ll go straight there. Where is the music room?”

“It was moved to the annex last year. Take a left out the door and follow the walkway. It’s the brick building in front of the ball field. That made it easier for students going to and from the field for marching-band practice.”

Some of Jo’s excitement drained as she left the office. From what she’d seen of high-school marching bands in Boston parades, none had violinists. And a small school like this might not have an orchestra. But, as this was her best lead, she followed the walkway to the music room.

A man with almost completely white hair and stooped shoulders sat behind a desk, changing reeds in a clarinet. Jo felt no connection to the room, or to him. She hesitated in the doorway, wondering if she should leave. But her shadow fell across his desk, causing him to glance up. His pale eyes, magnified by tortoiseshell glasses, widened, and the clarinet mouthpiece slipped from his fingers. “Colleen?” The teacher jumped up and adjusted his glasses. “Heavens to Betsy, we thought…Well, clearly the papers were wrong.” He brushed his hands down his sweater vest, then removed his glasses. “What have you been doing since you left here, child?”

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