Lasting Shadows

by Bonnie Gardiner

  He parked and stepped out of the car, looking around. Two spotted dogs came running, instead of barking, curious. He patted their heads, worming between them to the stairs.

  The entrance was as grand as everything else, with fancy scrollwork and leaded glass. The plaque by the house numbers said ‘Lambert’ but the carving in the arch over the doors said ‘Tanner’. He heard the familiar clop of high heels on hardwood floors and put on a little smile as he slid his sunglasses in his pocket. The doors opened. Carol smiled at him, blushing just a little, her hair perfectly framing her face, her makeup simple but elegant. She wore an elegant dinner dress in navy blue, a solid piece with the skirt stopping just above her knees. It did very little to hide the middle-aged swell around her waist, in fact, actually making it more obvious. The sleeves cut just slightly below her shoulder, revealing her arms and of course, more of her age. The neckline was cut a lot higher than he would have liked, but the heels revealed what he had suspected all along. Her legs were gorgeous.

  “Quinn, welcome!”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her skin. A flood of blood rushed to her cheeks and she waved him off.

  “Tim is just in here.”

  She led him through two rooms filled with antiques into the dining room. Tim stood there helping to set the table. His eyes slanted up at Quinn, though the man stood a full head taller. Quinn held out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

  “Quinn.”

  The big man nodded to him once. He was wearing jeans and a button shirt, hastily thrown together as if he really did not want to dress up at all. He was a little heavy, just around the belly, his chin dark with a scraggly beard that crept down his neck. The receding hair on the top of his head looked like two arches, dark brown peppered with silver.

  Quinn and Tim walked around, talking briefly about his collection of model plane trophies. He ushered Quinn into a room just off the dining room, filled with the things and a number of balsa wood models hanging from the ceiling. A half-hour into that, after feigning interest and already getting tired, Carol rang a little bell.

  “Dinner, boys! Come and get it!”

  He followed Tim back into the dining room. Carol had outdone herself. The presentation of the meal was as incredible as the meal itself, but Tim immediately began to criticize. He claimed her seasoning on the meat was too weak, the greens too strong, the mashed potatoes needed more mashing, the bread was slightly over baked. Quinn watched Carol sinking. Twice her eyes met his, all the joy having been sucked right out of them. She barely ate.

  “I think it’s all fabulous, Carol. Best I’ve had in years.”

  “You get much home cooking back your way, Quinn?” Her voice was a little small and broken.

  “I used to,” he said. “Back before my wife got promoted to upper management. After that, we tended to fend for ourselves. Too busy to cook for us.”

  “That’s a shame,” Tim said. “Nothing like home cooking.”

  He stuffed his face, in spite of all the things she supposedly got wrong.

  Quinn turned his gaze from Tim to Carol. Her sad eyes met his. He winked at her, curling his lips up in a half-smile. She blinked and smiled back very faintly, but her mood seemed to improve.

  They settled into dessert afterward, a rich apple cake she made from scratch. That, her husband made no complaint about. He left the table, dropping into a large overstuffed chair in the living room as Carol took Quinn’s arm and led him in there as well. They sat on the sofa just to Tim’s side.

  “The house is extraordinary,” Quinn said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Passed down in my family. It was willed to my oldest brother but he sold it to me.”

  “Sold it?”

  “We all got a piece of the fortune,” she said. “But I wanted the house. So he came up with a price and I bought it.”

  “He didn’t get all your money?”

  “No, no,” she said. “He had it appraised but when it wasn’t worth as much as he thought he came up with a random figure and I paid that.”

  “Why wasn’t it worth what he thought?”

  “Location,” she said. “Nothing close to here. The land itself isn’t even worth that much.”

  “I noticed the pine trees…”

  “My idea,” she said. “Thought it might help to use the land. Loggers come in when the trees are big enough and cut down and sell them. We replant and while that batch grows through the seasons, they can cut down a different mature section. In total it’s five hundred acres now. Used to be a bit bigger, but my brothers got part of the land.”

  “So making money off the land,” he said. “Smart.”

  “Doing my best,” she said, smiling a little at him.

  “So tell me about this house then,” Quinn said. “I didn’t realize you lived in a mansion. I know you said Tanner was an early investor in the mine-”

  “And a very wealthy man,” Carol said. “Christian Reinhart Tanner. He moved his family out here and stayed even after all the disasters at the mine. Luckily the fire that destroyed the town spared the house. The house was even opened up as a shelter for a while as folks rebuilt.”

  “Fascinating.” Quinn fumbled in his pocket. He held up the voice recorder. “Mind if I…? Notes for research.”

  She giggled a little.

  “Not at all,” she said.

  She started explaining things as Quinn asked questions, the fading light outside the windows turning orange.

  ***

  “So, that turned the whole town around,” Carol said. “Everything started changing then. Of course, Miranda is still leaving the shadow boxes everywhere, but-”

  A loud snore rumbled from across the room.

  “Looks like we might have worn someone out,” Quinn said in a soft voice.

  Carol giggled. Quinn glanced at his phone at the time.

  “Wow,” he said. “We talked quite a bit.”

  “Yes we did,” she said, clearing her throat.

  “I wore you out too,” he said with a little breathy laugh. “I apologize. The history here is fascinating.”

  “It is,” she said. She coughed. “I think I need a little water.”

  He stood as she did, glancing at her husband, sleeping in the chair. He followed her into the kitchen.

  “So you’ll wake him and make him go to bed, or throw a blanket over him and leave him there?”

  “Oh,” she said, sipping her water. “I’ll wake him.”

  “After what he said to you at dinner, Carol, I’m not even sure I’d bother to get a blanket. Is he always that critical?”

  “It’s just his nature, Quinn.”

  “It’s abuse, Carol.”

  She sighed. He rubbed her back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t dampen the evening. It’s been lovely. I really enjoyed our conversation.”

  She turned to him.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, a little smile lighting up her face. “I enjoyed it too. And I hope you’ll get to come back again before you leave.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Anytime. Just let me know.”

  She walked him to the front doors. They stepped outside into the cooler evening air. Quinn breathed in deep.

  “The air is so fresh out here.”

  “It’s country life,” she said. She walked by him down the front stairs. She took his arm. “It was a really lovely night.”

  He patted her hand.

  “Thank you, Quinn.”

  They stopped by his car.

  “I should be thanking you,” he said.

  “No.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, for giving me something pleasant to look forward to.”

  She gasped and carefully rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

  “Lipstick,” she said, blushing.

  He smiled and took her hand, raising it to his lips. He kissed her skin slowly, closing his eyes. He glanced at her as he rose up a
gain. She stared up at him.

  Longing. Wanting.

  A surge rushed through his chest. He leaned in close, his mouth by her ear.

  “I wish you weren’t married.”

  He backed away, seeing her parted lips, her closed eyes. He leaned in close again, pressing his lips to her cheek, just by her mouth, then he backed away, dropping all physical contact and turned to his car.

  “See you later, sweetheart.”

  “Bye, Quinn.”

  She touched her cheek subconsciously, staring after him as he turned around and pulled away. He glanced back in the rearview mirror, watching him staring after her as a silhouette, the lights from the porch shining behind her.

  He laughed a little to himself, feeling smug and self-assured.

  ***

  He glanced across the street as he unlocked the door to the rental house. The old woman was long in bed, apparently. Even the crickets had gone to sleep. He smirked to himself as opened the door, shutting it behind him. He flipped on the light and made himself a glass of tea before wandering into the living room where his laptop sat, turning it on. He stared down at his right foot. The pain, forgotten in the excitement of the evening now began to throb again. He frowned at it, setting his tea on the table and walking down the hall to the bath.

  He unwrapped it, checking it over. Still looking sore and bruised, he wrapped it back up.

  “Need the ice pack again.”

  He stood and limped a little, entering the bedroom. He turned on the light.

  “Surprise!”

  He fell backward with a yell. Tamara laid there on the bed in one of his dress shirts and nothing else. She spread her arms out.

  “Come hold me, baby!”

  He glared at her.

  “What the fuck, Tamara?”

  Her face fell, her eyes growing wider.

  “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” He waved his arm at her. “How the hell did you get in?”

  She sniffled.

  “Through the window in the brown room,” she said. “It’s never closed right. Everyone in town knows that.”

  Tears rolled down her face, streaking her mascara.

  “I don’t live here, Tamara. I didn’t know that.” He stomped to the hall. “Show me.”

  She sniffled and trembled, on the brink of sobs as she quickly zipped past him into the room split horizontally. He followed. She ducked down and went right to the window the shadow box had sat in before.

  “Here,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “You just grip it right there and shove.”

  He shook his head, looking around for something to jam it shut. He found a metal pole about the right length in the glassed-in porch room. He shoved it in, testing the window.

  “There,” he said. “Now no one can get fucking in.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  She burst into full-on sobs as they went back into the hall. He closed the door to that room up tight and marched into his own, right behind her. He stared at a dirty smudge on the back of his dress shirt.

  “Get dressed.”

  “What?”

  “Get dressed,” he said. “I’m escorting you home.”

  “But, I wanted to-”

  “Does your father know you’re here?”

  “No. He thinks I’m still at Megan’s.”

  “You mean you never told him you’re back?”

  Her bottom lip trembled.

  “He doesn’t know you’re home.” Quinn threw up his hands, turning away from her. He marched up and down the hall.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “Tamara…”

  She walked to him, dropping to her knees, fawning at him.

  “Please let me stay. Just tonight. I’ll go home in the morning. I swear, Quinn. Please?”

  “Tamara…”

  He groaned. Her hands caressed him through his pants.

  She knows exactly what she’s doing. Megan must have taught her this.

  “Please, baby. You can even punish me for breaking in.”

  “Punish you? What? Where the hell did that come from?”

  “Please, Quinn. I’ll do anything.”

  He backed away from her but felt the need tugging at him. He shook his head and stuck his hands under her arms, hefting her up to her feet. He stared into her eyes.

  “We need to talk.”

  He walked her back to the bedroom. She smiled through her tears, crawling on the bed and turning over, looking back at him.

  “Tamara, angel, you’re too young for me. I’ve told you this before.”

  “Age doesn’t matter,” she said, pouting.

  He sighed and dropped to sit on the corner of the bed.

  “Yes it does,” he said. “You need a relationship with a guy closer to your age. I just needed, well frankly…”

  She crawled to him, laying on her back, backward on the bed, her face by his knee. She took his hand, kissing his palm before placing it on her left breast. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand. He laughed a little.

  “I’m not getting through to you, am I, angel?”

  He looked down into her eyes.

  “You have to go home in the morning.”

  “I will, baby.”

  “No more sneaking in.”

  “I promise.”

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear. Cross my heart.”

  She lifted his hand and made the motion before dropping it back where it was before. He rolled his eyes and chuckled, squeezing a little. She bit her lip.

  “Damn it, angel,” he said. “You get me too worked up to think.”

  He stood and removed his clothes as she watched, finally flipping off the light and falling into bed beside her.

  Chapter 15

  PREDICTION

  “Too many descriptive words,” Quinn said, mumbling to himself. “Remove that and cut and paste that… A different word for burning…” He sat on the recliner, doing some basic editing of what he had written since he arrived at the house, talking a little to himself.

  He woke when the alarm went off that morning, waking Tamara with him. They made love, showered together, had a quick, easy breakfast, and then he sent her off to go back to work. After that, he settled in for the day.

  His ankle had improved a lot more. He still wrapped it up, just to make sure he was still aware of it enough not to damage it again. He was halfway through editing the fifth chapter when a light knock rattled the door.

  Wary, he peered out of the front curtains. The blue crossover sat there sparkling in the sunlight. His eyes widened. He dashed to the door, careful of his ankle and got it open just as Carol had turned to go back down the stairs.

  “Carol?”

  She turned to look over her shoulder and came back up, entering as he held the screen door open for her.

  “Quinn,” she said, her eyes were red. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re working, but Tim… well, he… I…” She broke down, sobbing, a tissue in her hand.

  He wrapped her up in his arms, hugging tightly.

  “What happened?”

  “Another fight,” she said. “He’s hired another waitress. They all look like kids. One of them has already told me he’s making inappropriate advances.”

  “Oh no,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I confronted him about it and he demanded I go home,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He’s ruining the business and our marriage at the same time.”

  “I’m so sorry, Carol.” He rubbed her back. “The way he treated you at dinner, I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

  “I know,” she said, her face twisted into a sobbing frown. “I can’t do anything right with him.”

  She bawled then, burying her face in his shoulder. He rubbed her back, rocking a little as they stood there.

  “Does he know you came here?”

  “No,” she said. “He ordered me to go home, so I guess he thinks I’m there.”
>
  She sniffled, her whole body trembling. He guided her into the living room and frowned.

  “I wish this place had a couch,” he said. “I’d like to sit and hold you.”

  “And your ankle,” she said, her eyes widening. “Oh, I should let you sit.”

  “But you need some comfort, sweetheart.”

  She gazed up into his eyes. He put on a look of pity for her and touched her face.

  “How is your ankle?”

  “Throbbing a little,” he said, looking down at it and raising it up.

  “You need to lay down and let me have a look at it.”

  He nodded and guided her, with a limp, back to his bedroom, grateful Tamara had made the bed before she left. He lay down, hissing a little as he rolled on his back. She pushed the leg of his jeans up to his shin and unwrapped the bandage. He felt her cold fingers pressing on it and startled.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m that upset.”

  “I’m sorry too, Carol,” he said. “You shouldn’t be trying to take care of me when you need someone taking care of you.”

  She smiled a little waving him away.

  “Stop that,” she said. She sniffled a bit, but he watched the clouds seem to part in her expression. “You need another ice pack, I think.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Been doing that on and off all day.”

  “Let me get you one.”

  “You don’t have to-”

  She pressed her hand to his lips.

  “I know,” she said. “But I’m here and you actually thank me for taking care of you. Let me have that at least.”

  He laughed a little as she smiled and slid off the bed.

  “The bag is by the recliner.”

  “Alright.”

  He listened as she wandered around in the kitchen and returned a few moments later. She pressed the thing to his ankle and wrapped up his foot in an afghan that sat on top of the dresser. He sat up, sliding to the end of the bed to sit beside her.

  “Thank you, doctor Carol,” he said.

  She laughed a little. He took her hand, kissing it.

  “Feeling any better?” He watched her face.

  “You’re gonna laugh when I say this,” she said. “I’m almost embarrassed. But when I talk to you…” She looked into his eyes. “Yes, I feel better.”