Melody tossed the papers on her desk, pacing the room in agitation. Logan MacKenzie was her client and she had a duty to him to deal with this counterclaim from Ashton, but there wasn’t time right now. Not if she wanted Logan back in her life.
Logan was the man she loved. The man who loved her…or at least he had. Maybe still did. But if she didn’t do something to somehow try to find him quickly, to make him listen to reason, she would surely lose him forever.
But if she neglected his case, her career would be on the line. This was a big case, the kind that people in her industry would deem ‘career changing’. It was big for her but also big for the firm.
The decision was hers alone to make: choose her career, or choose her love for Logan. And as she pondered what to do she realized that it was a simple decision after all.
* * *
Melody tried to sleep on the flight, but it was no use. Anxiety and uncertainty over what exactly she would do when she reached Scotland, much less what she would do when she finally tracked down Logan, made her restless. The interminable layovers, one in Paris and another in Amsterdam, almost drove her mad. She paced the airports from end to end, too tired to enjoy the architecture of either place, too keyed up to even eat.
Inverness was cold and raining, the sky low and heavy with gray clouds. She asked the taxi driver to take her a local shopping mall so she could grab something warmer. The light jacket that had been fine in New York was little protection against the elements, and she shivered as she stood on the narrow street. She ducked into the first shop that sold women’s clothing and bought a thick, wool sweater.
After finally being warm for the first time since she’d arrived, she started the confusing search for her hotel, walking along the narrow streets, asking for directions. By the time she’d found the small hotel, tucked at the end of a dead-end street, she was absolutely exhausted. Collapsing onto the lumpy bed in the tiny damp room, she tried once more in vain to sleep, dozing fitfully for a short time. But she was almost too tired to sleep and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the many meals she’d missed since she’d left New York.
She finally made her way to the bar downstairs, only to find she’d missed the dinner service. Dejected, she slumped onto a bar stool. The man behind the bar gave her a sympathetic smile.
“But we’ll fix ye a plate of beans and bridie, with a drink on the house.”
The man poured her a drink, making polite conversation, while she waited for whatever a ‘bridie’ was. He asked what brought her to Inverness.
“I came to see Logan MacKenzie at the Iron Works.”
Saying his name out loud made Melody’s heart flutter and the flush that crept up her cheeks could have been from thinking of Logan or from the heat of the Scotch in the glass in front of her. Even with a splash of water, it was potent, although she was more prepared for the bite of the liquid on her tongue than she might have been otherwise.
“Aye, MacKenzie’s a local lad. A good lad, at that. Come back to do a special show, just for us. Added last minute, so I hear. You’re lucky you got tickets.” He went off to see to a customer at the far end of the bar.
I am lucky…I just hope my luck holds.
* * *
The day of the show dragged interminably for Melody. She’d escaped the confines of her bare room, walking up and down the narrow streets of Inverness, looking in the shop windows, finally walking far enough to discover Inverness Castle, perched on a short hill above the River Ness. The day was again cloudy and the castle looked gloomy and imposing, its squat eight-sided tower rising above the other buildings. Melody shivered in her new sweater and headed back to her hotel.
That night she took a taxi to the Iron Works, not trusting her ability to find it by walking, even though the man behind the bar had assured her that it was a short, easy walk. The look of the building surprised her. It was low and whitewashed, as so many buildings seemed to be. But it was much smaller than any venue she’d ever been to. Once inside though, it was larger than it appeared, but still cozy and welcoming. Quite an unconventional venue for a rock concert, she thought.
A gigantic stone hearth at one end of the room held a huge roaring fire, its warmth wiping away the chill of the night. A simple stage was at the other end of the narrow room, raised slightly above the main floor, placing the audience very close to the performers, a very intimate arrangement. There were no huge amps or sound equipment on the stage and it occurred to Melody this must be an acoustic performance.
Her heart was racing as she made her way to the front of the seating area. There were small tables scattered around the room, and she sat with a group of people who happily shifted their chairs to include her at their table.
When the house lights went down and the stage lights came up, Melody held her breath. The drummer came out, settling himself behind his kit. The other two men picked up their guitars, strumming a few chords, talking quietly. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for a long time, with just the three of them on stage, and Melody wondered if Logan was actually going to perform with the group. The thought suddenly struck her that the band may have split up over the suit, that Logan might not even be here at all. As the crowd around her started to murmur, a wave of anxiety washed over her.
Then Logan walked on stage and Melody’s heart almost stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Even in this small space, he exuded charm and charisma, totally captivating the crowd without saying a word, with just with a smile.
But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something missing tonight, a vital spark she’d come to know…and love. He looked the same; tall, handsome, sexy. A rock star in every sense of the word. But it wasn’t Logan, the Logan she’d come to know. He was playing a part, but not feeling it. Her heart ached for him, for the missing joy she wanted to see in his face.
He’d pulled a tall stool into the center of the stage and he perched on it, looking over the crowd for a moment. His eyes skimmed over the table where she sat, but there was no change in his expression. Either he didn’t see her, or – her heart sank at the thought – he had seen her. Slowly raising the microphone, he spoke.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re here because this is where we started and we need to remember that. This is our home. Things may happen, loves may come and then be lost, but home is where they’ll always welcome ye back. And so, we’re here.”
The crowd erupted in applause and loud cheers, but Melody sat, numb and silent. His words pierced her, made her want more than anything to bolt from her chair and climb on stage. But she sat, still and quiet as the crowd finally settled down around her.
Logan stood, setting the stool aside and started to sing, and she quickly became lost in the soothing sound of his voice. She’d only heard a few songs on the radio, with professional arrangements and all that came with a studio recording.
But here it was just him and his band, four guys making music. Logan’s voice was so pure, the melodies simple and direct, every note exactly what was needed and nothing more. It was the essence of each song and Melody found herself entranced.
Finally Logan pulled the stool back to center stage, settling himself on it. The drummer and bass guitar player quietly left the stage, leaving only the other man, who picked up a battered acoustic guitar and stool, sitting down behind Logan.
Melody watched, mesmerized, as the stage lights dimmed, leaving Logan in a soft circle of light. He cleared his throat, taking a drink from a bottle of water, looking out over the crowd for a moment.
“I want to thank all of you for supporting us. It means a great deal. The last song we’re going to perform is one I wrote a long time ago, in the wee hours of the morning, back when we were playing in pubs for pints. Some of ye may know it. I’ve memorized the words now, so I’m not needing to read them from a paper stuck to the stage floor.”
There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd and Melody saw many people nodding their heads.
“For all of you who’ve been with us from the start, this is for you.”
The song was in Gaelic and Melody didn’t understand any of the words. The crowd joined in, softly at first, then louder, and at the end Logan stood, holding out the microphone toward the audience, encouraging them to finish the song. The light caught a glint in his eyes that she thought looked like tears.
As the song finished and applause rose up around them, she turned to the man sitting beside her.
“What was the song?” She shouted over the noise of the crowd.
He leaned over, his lips next to her ear. “It’s about home, ye ken… about when you’ve strayed and ye lost yer way, you can always come home. Logan wrote it after a bad stretch on the road a few years back, when they were broke and ready to give it all up. It was the song that made them famous. Ironic though, the song about home is the one that took them away from it.”
The house lights came up and the crowd milled about, chatting, moving to the other end of the room. Logan was talking with the guitar player at the back of the stage, a few other people gathered around them. For a moment, she was almost afraid to approach the stage, taking a few hesitant steps, trying not to lose him in the crowd. But then Logan turned, looking directly at her.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. For a long, uncomfortable minute he watched her and then for a heart-stopping second she thought the was going to leave, but he only to someone, spoke a few words and then walked to the edge of the stage.
“Melody. It is you.” He was looking down at her, his eyes dark and solemn.
She finally found her voice. “Logan…yes. I’m here for you…to talk to you. Please…can we talk?”
He regarded her a moment longer before extending a hand to her. She grasped it and he helped her step up on the stage. The touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his hand almost took her breath away.
Then he dropped her hand and turned away. “Come on. We’ve got some rooms in the back. We can talk there.” He walked across the stage, through a door at the rear. Melody followed, her heart in her throat.
He led her down a short hall to a small room with a few chairs and a small table. There was a battered couch against one wall and Logan sat down, long legs stretched out in front of him. She closed the door softly and crossed the room.
Melody sat on the other end of the couch, resisting the urge to bite her nails. She clenched her hands in her lap, suddenly unsure of what to say, where to start.
“Logan…I’m so sorry. Please, let me explain.”
Logan sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed.
“You might as well, if you’ve come this far. Say what you need to say.”
“Logan, what you saw with Ryan wasn’t what you think. I know it looked bad…but I can I?”
“I saw you in the arms of another man…someone who seemed very familiar with you. Someone you seemed very familiar with.” He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at her. The pain in his eyes made her want to reach out to him, to touch him, but the gulf between them was too great. And if he shied away from her touch, it would break her heart.