Michael Quinn

by Caleb Borne

  Mama’s melodic voice soothed my temper, and I did as she asked. George shook his head, but I could tell by that vein thumping in his temple that he was overloaded. “If you need me, call, George. I’ll be right outside on the patio with Daddy and Mr. Quinn.”

  “Well, maybe you could take this tray of juleps, Miss Katie. My pot roast is about to burn.”

  I took the tray, and when Daddy saw me coming, he slid the door open and took it from me. I pushed the door shut with my hip, waiting until Mr. Quinn was looking. His black eyes sparkled, as if such a thing was possible. He was mocking me! “George says we’re having pot roast,” I burst out. It was the most inane thing I could have said, but nothing better had come to mind. I wanted to be a part of the conversation.

  “Yes, honey, now be a good girl and sit down there. Have a julep if you like, but let us talk, would you?”

  Mr. Quinn was holding his drinking, having rotated at the hip to watch me come out. He winked, and I felt a little breathless and hot. I took a drink but just sipped it. I was old enough to drink, but barely. It just never interested me.

  “Now, as I was saying, you see that pasture to your left, the one that rolls upward? That’s where Bonnie Lass stays. She’s my prized mare, and the stallions are kept far away. I believe she’ll give me a Derby winner.”

  Mr. Quinn nodded absent-mindedly, but he swiveled again and looked at me. I smiled my sweetest and slowly stuck my tongue into the glass, swishing it slightly before sipping. I had no idea what I was doing, but I’d seen it in an Italian movie I made Bella go see with me down at the Savoy. I could tell Mr. Quinn recognized it; I swear he nodded ever so slightly.

  A big breeze came over us then, and the patio umbrella took flight. Daddy just stood there, a sort of dumb look on his face. Mr. Quinn, quickly set his glass down and sprang forward, got beyond the umbrella and held out his arms, so it blew right to him. I felt a little thrill inside, watching him. He was agile and athletic; had acted by pure instinct. I stood up to help him, and my hand touched him as I reached for the button that allowed the umbrella to collapse. Between the fluttering sections of the umbrella and his jockeying around to keep it grounded, my hand touched him in the crotch. I felt him jump and his eyes locked onto mine.

  It was like time suspended. I could see then that Mr. Quinn’s eyes weren’t black at all, but a deep, deep blue, like the sky at midnight. The twinkle purely looked like a star. He smelled of expensive aftershave, and I could tell it had been a few hours since his chin had felt the cold of a blade. He was already sprouting his five o’clock shadow; a term I’d heard Butch, and some of the boys use. My heart reacted, beating hard in my chest, and it felt like it was just the two of us in the entire world.

  “Here, here, let me help with that,” Daddy broke in. I pulled back as if my hand had been burned by fire. I’m not sure whether Daddy witnessed what happened, but either way, I knew I was flushed from the experience and promptly sat down and took a deep gulp from the julep.

  A rumbling caught my attention, and I looked to the west to see solid black. “A storm coming in,” I called out as Daddy, and Mr. Quinn continued to wrestle with the umbrella, finally getting it collapsed and tied. Mr. Quinn stowed it up against the house while Daddy stood with indecision, looking at the storm.

  “You are going to have to excuse me,” he said. “I’ve got to go up and bring in the horses. That’s a big blow headed our way.”

  Mr. Quinn responded immediately. “Need some help?”

  It was the first time I’d really heard his voice, other than when he’d agreed to stay to dinner. His voice was deep, and to me sounded very much like the thunder that was coming ever closer.

  “No, no, I’ll take the cart and be back in no time. You had better grab those glasses and get indoors. It’s moving fast. You’ll get soaked.” Daddy ran to the small barn nearby and soon came putting out on his golf cart, heading as fast as it would go toward the bigger barns. Hands were running out everywhere, their arms flapping as they tried to shoo the horses back into their stalls.

  I was oblivious to the storm.

  “Aren’t you scared of storms, Miss Katie?” Mr. Quinn’s voice rumbled, and I could feel it in every nerve ending in my body.

  I shook my head. “Please, it’s just Katie. That’s short for Kathleen.”

  “I’m Michael, and I’d hoped so.”

  “Hoped what?”

  “That your given name was Kathleen. It’s my favorite name, you know.”

  I shook my head again, not sure what to say. I looked up at the sky, but my attention was all on him.

  “You think we should get this inside?”

  “Yes, okay, sure. I’ll get these over here, if you’ll pick up those,” I nodded toward the remaining glasses on the tray as I grabbed Mr. Quinn—that is, Michael’s—glass and Daddy’s and headed to the door. He slid it open for me, and I stepped inside. “Big blow coming, Mama. Daddy’s gone up to get the horses in, but I’m not so sure he’s going to make it. It’s coming fast. Want me to help him?”

  Mama came out of the kitchen. I expected she’d been helping George. She was rubbing her hands on a dishtowel. She went directly toward Michael and held out her hand. “Mr. Quinn, you’ll pardon my not coming to meet you sooner, but our cook is off today, and I needed to give George a hand in the kitchen.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am,” Michael rumbled, and again, I thought I’d stopped breathing. I could see Mama was impressed; she was gasping a little herself. Oh, it was undeniable she was flustered.

  “No, Katie, you stay put. Those animals are your father’s responsibility, and I’ll not have you up there in the open weather, getting muddy, and the good Lord knows what this close to dinner. Why don’t you take Mr. Quinn into the parlor and I’ll send George up to help your daddy? Dinner is almost ready, and I can finish it up.”

  I didn’t need to be convinced; neither did Michael. I looked at him, and he nodded. The polite thing for him to do would have been to offer to help Daddy, but I took it as high praise that he disregarded good manners to spend a few minutes alone with me. At least, that’s how I chose to look at it.

  Michael seemed unsure about how to talk to me. I took the lead. “Do you live nearby, Michael?”

  “I do,” he nodded once. “Not so very far from here.” He didn’t elaborate, and if that bothered me, I didn’t let is. I was just fact-gathering at that point.

  “I’m graduating from St. Elizabeth’s very soon. I stay there during the weeks and then come back to Tipperary on weekends.”

  “What will do you do after college?”

  I looked down. “I can’t really tell you, I’m sorry. Mama and Daddy would kill me if they knew … and well … I don’t really know you ….”

  Michael nodded and I could tell he was thinking. “If I promised not to say anything to anyone? Just our secret? I’d really like to know.”

  I sat down in one of the over-stuffed side chairs next to the fireplace. It was my favorite and where I went to read. “Oh, I really shouldn’t.”

  Michael took the chair opposite me, unbuttoning his jacket and crossing an ankle over his opposite knee. I could see the dark hairs on his ankle, above where his sock ended. It made my tummy shiver. I’d never been this close to a man unchaperoned—at least one who wasn’t like a brother. I became fascinated; that was until I looked at him and he was smiling. He caught me looking and I was mortified. He lowered his leg and sort of slid onto one hip, his hand supporting his cheek. “Now are you going to tell me?” he asked in a way that told me he was blackmailing me. I liked his game.

  Leaning forward, I whispered. “I’m moving to Hollywood and try to get into the movies.”

  His head jerked back a little, but he recovered quickly. Outside, thunder boomed and I could hear Mama squeak in alarm. I tried to shut all that out of my head.

  “Do you have anything in particular in mind?” he asked casually, as though I’d just said I was going to buy a dress.

  “No,
not really. I mean, I know it won’t be easy—the really famous actresses all have their story to tell. I think, though, I look decent enough, I’m smart and I will do whatever it takes to get what I want.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up at that. “Anything?”

  I blushed. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  “Determination. It’s about persistence and never giving up.”

  “Is that how you describe yourself?”

  My forehead lowered toward my eyebrows as I thought about his question. “I suppose you could say that. I do always seem to get what I want.”

  “Is that so? Would you say that’s persistence, or the fact that you have your daddy wound around your finger?”

  I drew in my breath. At first, my temper flared that he should talk to me that way. Then I remembered watching him from the gallery window and recognizing the power of the man in that dark suit. I wanted that power; I wanted to know what it would be like to have a man like that want you. It must be wonderful, to tame such a handsome creature like that who could have anyone he wanted, but wanted you. I got lost in that reverie and decided to ignore his remark.

  Mama came in and that ended the magic. “I believe we’re ready to eat. Won’t you come this way, Mr. Quinn?”

  He stood, straightened his clothes and motioned with his head to the dining room. “May I? he asked, holding out his arm. Then I did something unexpected and shocked even myself. As I folded my hand over his arm, I pinched him. I have no idea why I did such a thing; maybe it was the answer to his impertinent question, and just maybe it was to get his attention. The look on his face told me the latter had worked. I saw the sparkle in his midnight eyes and felt encouraged.

  Michael

  She was everything I’d never imagined. Stunning to look at, fresh, unsullied, bright, saucy and full of the spirit of life. Instinctively, I knew she could be the female version of me and yet I wanted her beneath me, in every sense of the word.

  Her mother was kind and yet anxious as she performed her hostess duties. I saw then where Katie’s eyes had come from. O’Hara was out of sorts after his run through the rain and mud. A man with a child’s brain was what I thought of him.

  Katie laughed at something she’d said and she grabbed my attention permanently. Why would I want to look at anything, or anyone else? When she spoke in her lilting drawl, I heard music. Her eyes flashed when something made her spirited and her dimples winked when I smiled at her. We were already well on our way to building our own secret language.

  I stayed much longer than I’d planned and the time came to leave. They walked me to the door. Katie looked at both parents and then boldly asked, “Mr. Quinn, has Daddy invited you to The Debutante Ball?”

  “Why, not as I remember,” I answered, looking to O’Hara expectantly.

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course. I’ll see to it,” he muttered, flushed more than usual. One look at his wife explained why. She obviously found me an unsuitable companion for her daughter and I assumed their bedroom conversation that night would revolve around just that fact.

  I turned toward Katie and bowed my head. “Katie, it was a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. O’Hara, I thank you for the delicious dinner.” I looked at O’Hara and said, “I’ll find your box tomorrow.”

  Katie squealed. “Oh! Are you coming?”

  “Indeed, I’ve been invited.”

  “How wonderful. I’ll see you there.”

  O’Hara looked puzzled. “But Katie, you detest horse racing.”

  “Perhaps it’s time I gave it another try,” she countered, smiling at me.

  “Well, goodnight.” As I drove away, those dimples haunted me.

  It was the end of the Keeneland season; a track that only raced until the end of April. After that came the first Saturday in May and that meant the Kentucky Derby in Louisville. I hadn’t been to Keeneland during racing season yet, but had been there during the sales that took place four times a year.

  The blooming dogwood were everywhere and it was the time of year that gave Kentucky its name, The Bluegrass State, although technically Kentucky was a commonwealth and not a state. It was the high limestone content in the soil that tinted the grass blue and made the thoroughbreds who grazed there fast and their bones stronger. For me, it was reminiscent of Ireland. Indeed, many of my countrymen had settled there long before I walked off the steamer at Ellis Island.

  Handing my keys to the valet, I asked for O’Hara’s box and was directed right to it, just as he’d said would happen. O’Hara was old money; generations old and he would always have that to thank for his success. Now me, on the other hand; I was new money and although I may be invited to a few fundraisers and other lightweight social activities, I would never be fully accepted. I was fine with that. The less they wanted to know, the less I had to tell them about my business. Perhaps it was that lack of transparency that made me not entirely acceptable.

  I could see it in Bella O’Hara’s face when she greeted me. She wore a superficial congeniality when all the time she was sizing me up as a suitor for her daughter, and already considered me out of the running. I had bluegrass in my soul, but it was Irish bluegrass.

  Katie saw me coming first, and bless her sweet heart, she burst into a wide grin that made me hard just seeing her. It was hard to understand how she made me feel. She was good and pure, all the best that any man could ever ask for. I desired her as a mate and as a companion. She was a woman I could grow old with; who would bear me sons and perhaps one small daughter to spoil. Right then I wanted to take her away and keep her for myself, but my body was responding with the craving of a young man who hadn’t been with a woman for a long time and who had happened across his personal pot of Irish gold.

  O’Hara turned to see her looking at me and stood, coming toward me.

  “I was hoping you’d make it, Quinn. Come on over. We’ve got drinks and a buffet inside. I like to watch from the bleachers below. Love to smell the leather and sweat, you understand.”

  “I thank you again for the kind invitation.” I nodded to Katie who was positively wriggling where she sat.

  “May I get you a julep, Michael?” Katie had flown past the conventionalities and that only made me want her all the more.

  “That would be very pleasant,” I nodded and she flew off the bleacher and up to their box at the top, soon reappearing with two goblets in hand. She gave a ghost of a curtsy as she handed me the first, and then gave the other to her father.

  O’Hara was rambling on about the animals, his jockey and the competition. He held a racing sheet that I knew listed the lineage of each horse, the jockey, weight and racing history. Horse racing appeared to the public to be a game of chance, but it was far more analytical than that. Every factor, from the personality of the horse, to whether the jockey had a cold to the moisture content of the track was calculated to set the odds. That, was my world. Massive amounts of money would change hands in one day and that, was why it was called the Sport of Kings.

  As O’Hara droned on, in general boasting about his ability to pick winners and to make the matches that resulted in the fastest horses, I looked behind me and noticed Bella seated in a white wicker chair by the window of their box. I nodded and her response was a vague lifting of her chin; an act that was both acknowledgment and condescension at the same time. I’d fix that. No one slighted Michael Quinn and got away with it. No one.

  A small band marched to the end of the viewing stands and played first The Star-Spangled Banner and then My Old Kentucky Home. Hats came off and every soul who could, stood and sang. I’d heard nicer anthems, but it was the spirit behind it that always brought a tear to my eye.

  Then followed the call to the post and the parade before the stands as each jockey sat his ride and a handler walked alongside, holding the reins until his charge was loaded into the gate. They were a restless bunch, knocking against the wooden enclosures as the jockeys lowered their brims and hunched, riding crop in
hand. The bell rang and the gates opened. They were off!

  O’Hara’s drink sloshed from its glass as he swayed and jumped, shouting at the top of his lungs. Katie patiently reached out with her white-gloved hand and took his glass, and then reaching for mine as well. I shook my head to decline, but when she held out her personal binoculars, I gladly made the exchange. I held the viewing glasses to my eyes with my left hand and felt her slide her gloved hand into my right one. I squeezed it, using my finger to trace a heart into her palm and then released it. I knew Bella was watching; her prized filly was not on the track but standing next to me.

  There was huffing and stomping coming from O’Hara – it seemed he’d over-estimated his prowess and would go home with not more than yet another mouth to feed. The horse turned in an abysmal finish. That also meant he’d go up to the box with Bella and likely get drunk. I had hoped to spend more time with Katie.

  I handed her back the glasses and lifted her gloved hand, kissing it. “I’m looking forward to your Debutante Ball.”

  “I’m so glad you’ll be coming. The girls will just ….” She stopped suddenly.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Oh. No, nothing at all,” she recovered and gave me another sweet smile. She quickly squeezed my hand before turning to head up to the box to join Bella. “Let them fend for themselves,” she called over her shoulder.

  I made my excuses to O’Hara, who didn’t seem to mind at all. “I’ll be watching for that invitation,” I reminded him.

  “What? Oh, oh, yes, the invitation. Get right on it.” His mind was still on racing.

  I gave him something else to think about. “After the ball, I’d like a sit-down at my office. There are some business matters we need to discuss.”