UNBROKEN PROMISE

~76~ Knacking

Logan sat hunched forward on the porch bench, his elbows resting on his knees, the snow falling slow and steady around him. His fingers were red from the cold, but he didn’t move.

He was still.

He felt hollowed out. Like all the pieces inside him had shaken loose and there was nothing left to hold them together. He had hurt her.

Not by anger or neglect this time. No. This time, it was something more intimate, more devastating. He’d tried to give her something tender, tried loving her the way she deserved and still, he’d managed to hurt her.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fists against them, like he could block out the image of her face when she’d winced, the blood. He had broken that trust with his ignorance. His clumsy, fearful rush to prove something to himself.

He wasn't ready. And worse, maybe she hadn’t been either.

He let out a quiet sob.

The door creaked open, and Logan straightened up fast, dragging a sleeve across his face. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended. He tried to steady it, but it cracked in spite of him. “It’s cold. You oughta be in bed.”

Oma didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped out into the cold and quietly closed the door behind her.

Logan felt the bench shift as she sat beside him. Then, without hesitation her arms wrapped around his middle, and she leaned into him.

He went still.

His jaw clenched, throat thick. And slowly, carefully, his arms folded around her.

The moment he touched her, something broke. He hadn’t meant for it to. He hadn’t wanted to let her see him like this, not again. But the grief in him was raw and worn thin from years of carrying it alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, the words barely more than breath.

She rested her head against his chest, not saying a word, just listening.

“I thought I was ready,” he said. “I wanted it to be good, for you. But I hurt you, Oma, and I can’t...” His voice faltered. “I can’t stand the thought that I did that.”

Her arms tightened around his waist. “Logan…” she said quietly, “it’s… it’s normal.”

He frowned, eyes still clouded with guilt and confusion. “What d’you mean?”

Her voice dropped lower, more private. “I… I asked Mama Becca after supper. Told her you wanted us to consummate our marriage.”

Logan turned to her, surprise flickering across his face.

Oma’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she pressed on, gently. “It wasn’t easy to ask. But Mama Becca… she knew what I was askin’. Told me the first time could hurt some. That there might be… a little blood. Especially for a girl like me.”

She looked down at her lap, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt. “I just… I didn’t want you thinkin’ you did somethin’ wrong. You didn’t break me, Logan.”

Logan’s throat worked, but he couldn’t find words. Instead, he stared at her, this woman who had managed, in a few quiet sentences, to undo the storm he’d been drowning in.

“You knew?” he finally rasped, his voice rough and tight.

Oma gave a small nod, her green eyes lifting back to his. “I was scared,” she admitted, “but not of you. I knew you’d be gentle. And you were.”