The words from Caroline’s journal were still swimming in his mind: Logan just doesn’t get it... He doesn’t listen. He won’t talk to me—not honestly. Unless he doesn’t actually have any feelings under there. He won’t open up. If I ask for something, I’m guaranteed not to get it. I can’t help but wonder if other husbands are easier to be with. Are they all like this, or just him? I love him, don’t get me wrong, but loving him is hard work, and every year it gets harder. Is it supposed to be like this?
He’d thought his marriage was happy until he read her diaries. Standing by his wife, being faithful, coming home every night and providing for both her and their son...that had felt like success until he’d seen himself through Caroline’s eyes. Maybe he was too much like his old man, after all.
Track down Junior—that was Melanie’s solution. And she was right, of course. But he’d never liked his brother much. They shared a father, but not a family. Still, he’d be the one who’d be able to give Logan an address.
He pulled up the web browser and typed in his brother’s name: Dr. Howard Eugene Wilde Jr. One of the first few entries to pop up was for an office in town. Mountain Springs Medical Center. And Dr. H.E. Wilde Jr. was listed under psychiatry.
“Huh,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure what he thought of that, but at least his brother was still local. It would make him easier to track down.
He could call the office, but he was mildly curious to see what Junior had become. The kid who’d had their father’s attention, his priority and his help in paying for a college education. They were both adults now, and maybe it was time to let grievances go.
THE MEDICAL BUILDING was on the south side of Mountain Springs—a newer building with three stories and not enough parking.
Psychiatry was on the third floor, and Junior’s office was at the far end. When Logan came inside, the waiting room was empty. The receptionist looked up with a distracted smile.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “I was hoping to see... Dr. Wilde.” It felt awkward to use his brother’s professional title.
“Dr. Wilde isn’t available this afternoon,” she replied. “But I can see if there are any spaces later next week—”
“I’m his brother,” Logan added.
“Oh...” The receptionist took a closer look at him. “What’s your name?”
“Logan McTavish.”
She frowned slightly. “One moment. I’ll see if he’s available.”
She disappeared down a hallway, and Logan glanced around the waiting room. It was calm, quiet, a faint puff of air-conditioned air stirring the pages of a magazine on a cherrywood coffee table.
He pulled his hand through his hair and looked up as a shorter portly man came into the room.
“Junior?” Logan said. He could see the younger man in this older version. Junior looked tired. He’d be in his midthirties, and his blond hair was receding. He wore a pair of gray dress pants, a buttoned shirt rolled up at the sleeves to his forearms and a loosened tie. There was a wedding ring on his left hand.
“Hi, Logan,” Junior said with a bemused smile. “I go by Eugene now. Or Dr. Wilde.”
“You aren’t actually asking me to call you Doctor, are you?” Logan asked.
“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “Eugene is fine.”
“Right. Eugene.”
“It’s been a while,” Eugene said with a smile.
“You were a kid when I saw you last,” Logan agreed. “You were still Junior back then.”
Junior nodded slowly, and he glanced down at his watch. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I have plans with my family in a few minutes. My son has a Little League game, so I can’t take long.”
“This will be quick,” Logan replied.
“Did you want to come into my office?” His brother gestured down the hallway.
“Sure,” Logan replied. The receptionist stared after them with undisguised curiosity as he followed.
There was a dark wood desk on one end of the spacious office, a leather couch and a wingback leather chair on the other, and some framed pastoral paintings on the walls. It looked like his half brother was doing pretty well for himself.
“Do you need money?” Junior asked, shutting the door and turning to face him. “Because I don’t give loans, I’ll tell you now.”
“What?” Logan eyed the younger man skeptically. “Maybe you haven’t changed as much as I was hoping. No, I don’t need money. I own my own business in Denver and it’s thriving, thank you.”
“Right. Sorry.” Junior’s expression softened slightly. “You wouldn’t believe how many old acquaintances stop by to say hi and ask for a loan.”
Acquaintances... Was that what Junior thought of him—like some old friend of the family? But then, Logan had never really been more than that to Harry’s kids.
Logan shrugged. “I don’t have too many old acquaintances in Denver, so I don’t have that problem.”
“Lucky.” Junior glanced around. “So what kind of business do you own?”
“Construction,” Logan replied. “I build houses.”
“That sounds great...” Junior nodded distractedly. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I need to find Dad,” Logan said.
“Why?” he asked, and he stilled, his arms over his chest and his gaze locked on Logan’s face quizzically. So this was the line for Junior—access to their father?
“Does it matter?” Logan asked. “He’s my father, and I need to see him.”
“The thing is, his health isn’t great,” he said. “He’s had a few small strokes in the last year, and he’s pretty fragile right now.”
“How bad is it?” Logan asked.
“He’s in an assisted-living facility right now, and he’ll probably have to stay there. He’s seventy-five this year.”
“Yeah, I know...”
“So he can’t handle too much,” Junior went on. “My mother passed away a year ago—I’m not sure if you heard—but it was really hard on Dad. He just kind of...caved in.”
“I only found out about your mom today,” Logan said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was hard on the
