“Don’t be an idiot, Jer—”
“I’m Quinn, yeah,” her daughter said, slowly getting to her feet, confused eyes darting between Mel and Jeremy, and Mel caught his wife’s gaze in a frantic, silent plea, saw the horrified understanding dawn in them.
“Jerry, maybe this isn’t—”
“Who are you?” Quinn asked.
“Jeremy!” Ryder boomed, at least distracting his brother long enough to allow Mel to grab Quinn’s hand and yank her toward the door.
“Mom! What’s happening? Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“Stop!” Lorraine bellowed, stunning everyone into silence. “Jeremy, shut up and sit down. Mel and Quinn—” Her voice softened, she shut her eyes a moment, then waved them back into the room. “Since I caused the wreck—”
“Mother—”
One hand shot up to ward off whatever Ryder had about to say, but his gaze swung to Mel’s as she stood behind Quinn, arms criss-crossed over her chest, feeling her daughter’s rapid heartbeat underneath her hands.
Until Quinn wrenched free of Mel’s clasp and headed toward Jeremy.
“Quinn!”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve got this.” Hands plunked on hips, she stared him down, and in that stare Mel saw, with a mixture of pride and sheer terror, all the women whose ballsy genes she carried. “You’re my father, huh?”
Chapter Eleven
“Your mom really was going to tell you,” Quinn heard Ryder say beside her as they walked along the shore, the moonlight making the marsh grasses look like thousands of wobbly silver spears.
“When she got tired of lying to me, you mean?” She tugged Ryder’s way-too-big jacket up around her neck, even though the cold breeze felt good against her hot face. “And please don’t tell me to calm down.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He paused. “It feels good to be mad, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said, except what it felt like, was like she had one of those marsh spears stuck right in the middle of her chest. After all this time of wishing Mom would talk to her, be honest with her, now when she should be talking to Mom...she couldn’t. All she wanted was to be left alone. And how messed up was that?
Only, after she’d run outside, Ryder had followed her, refusing to go away. A thought that tickled her brain in some funny way, but she did not have the energy to figure it out.
“Can I say something?” he said.
“Whatever,” Quinn said, knowing she sounded bratty and not really caring.
“You’re going to have to let your mother explain the details of what happened, how we all got to this point. Because,” he said when Quinn opened her mouth, “she is your mother and she loves you more than life itself, that’s why. She was also worried sick that this is exactly how you’d feel.” Quinn punched the toe of her new shoe into the sandy dirt, probably getting mud all over it. “But you have to understand...she was pretty much forced to keep this all a secret. Until she realized how unrealistic that was. So she’d had a plan. Which was going fine, actually, until my dimwit brother showed up and shot it all to heck and back.”
“Yeah, about that...” Quinn turned to Ryder. Who was her uncle, actually, a thought that had a hard time squeezing into what little space was left in her brain. “So this dude knows about me the whole time and just blows me off? And then comes back and expects me to...what? Act like everything’s cool? And by the way, you can go ahead and swear, it’s not like I’ve never heard it or anything.”
“Noted,” he said with a nod, then said, “I have no idea what Jeremy’s thinking. But your mom told me a few days ago that it’s entirely up to you, whether you want to get to know him or not. He gave up his rights ages ago, so he can’t play that card now.”
“So you knew all along, too?”
“Not all along, no. Only since you and your mother came back to St. Mary’s.” They walked for another few seconds before he said, “It’s all very complicated, honey. And trust me, your mother’s hurting every bit as much as you are right now.”
“So you’re taking her side.”
“There are no sides, Quinn,” Ryder said, his voice a little sharp. “Right now you might not want to believe it, but it’s true. And God willing from this point forward there won’t be any more lies, either. That’s the best any of us can do. You either deal with that or you don’t.”
They’d walked in a big circle and were now coming back to the house, making her insides hurt all over again. “Man, I cannot wait to go home. Back to Baltimore, I mean.” Except even as she said it, that didn’t feel right, either. Nothing felt right anymore. Quinn half wondered if it ever would.
“Going home with your mom?”
She felt her mouth twist. Along with her insides. “Guess I don’t have a whole lot of choice in that.”
“None that I can see. But you know, something tells me the two of you will work through this.”
“I guess.” There was this big porch that stretched across the whole back of the house, so you could go outside from several rooms. In the light from one of them she saw her mother standing. Watching for them, Quinn guessed. “Can I say something?”
“Anything you like.”
“Two things, actually. One, thank you for not talking to me like I’m a baby.”
“You’re welcome—”
“And two...” Her chest all tight, Quinn looked up at Ryder, walking beside her with his hands in his pants pockets. “Why couldn’t it’ve been you? To be my father, I mean?”
He got very quiet, then reached for her hand, holding it tightly as they got closer to the house. And she let him. “Because I cared too much about your mother to go there,” he said softly, which Quinn didn’t entirely understand but she got the gist, as her grandmother used to say. “But I’ll tell you what—if I were, I’d be the proudest man on the planet. You are one awesome kid. Just like your mom was, when she was your age.”
Quinn thought that over a moment, then said, “Do you still think she’s awesome?”
“You have no idea,” he said, but she had to strain to hear him.
When they reached the bottom of the porch stairs, she threw her arms around Ryder’s waist and hugged him, then ran up the stairs before he saw her cry.
* * *
Mel’s mangled heart lurched into her throat when Quinn flew into her arms, nearly knocking the stuffing out of her.
“I’m sorry I got mad,” she said, her voice muffled against Mel’s stomach. She looked up, saw Ryder standing at the bottom of the stairs. He gave her a thumbs-up and a forlorn, and yet somehow proud, smile that brought tears to her eyes. Okay, more tears.
Then he walked away, back into the night, as if to say My work here is done, and Mel buried her face in her daughter’s hair, thinking, Just hell, that’s what this is. Just bloody hell.
“It’s okay, you had every right to be upset—”
“Can we go home now? I mean, like tomorrow?”
“But you were looking forward to going birding with David tomorrow—”
“You mean—” Quinn’s head arched back, hurt blaring in her eyes. “—my grandfather? You lied to me, Mom! You told me you didn’t know where my father was—”
“And technically I didn’t! And hey—” Clumsily lowering herself to her knees—damn shoes—Mel clamped her hands around Quinn’s arms, hooking her daughter’s gaze in hers. “You want to be angry with me, fine. But don’t take it out on Dav— your grandfather—”
“Or your mother,” Lorraine said, she and the dogs emerging from the den onto the porch. “If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Because as I said...this is all my fault. No one else’s.”
Then, with a heavy sigh, Ryder’s mother sank onto a spiffy glider nearby, making it groan. Mel struggled to her feet—damn tight dress—and said, “Where’s
—?”
“Gone. To a bed and breakfast in town. Poor Caroline was appalled, for whatever it’s worth.” Mel saw Lorraine’s gaze cut to Quinn, standing slightly behind Mel and holding her hand, then back to Mel. “I was just as blindsided as you. I had no idea Jeremy was coming. I swear. And I’m still not entirely sure why he did. What purpose he thought it would serve. Not that I’m not glad it’s finally out in the open,” she quickly added, once more addressing Quinn. “But this was a terrible way for you to find out. So from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. Will you...will you give me a chance to make it up to you?”
At her daughter’s silence, Mel looked down and saw Quinn’s mulish expression, then returned her gaze to Ryder’s mother. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Lorraine. Stubbornness running in the family and all.”
Lorraine smiled—a small, tired smile—then said, “Then would you at least let me explain? Or try to?”
After several seconds, Quinn finally nodded, and Mel felt a burden she’d carried for way too long finally begin to slide off her shoulders.
Even if the burden didn’t seem even remotely interested in taking the heartache with it.
* * *
Despite Lorraine’s reasonably thorough explanation—and repeated apology—Quinn still insisted on going home the next day. She did allow David and Lorraine to come say goodbye—with a kitten as a going-away present, Lord help them both—but while the kid had been unable to say no to all that mewing, furry cuteness, she’d been less than committal about rescheduling her outing with her grandfather. Which Mel knew hurt David deeply, even though privately he’d said he understood. That she needed time.
And, after apologizing yet again, Lorraine had hugged Mel hard enough to squeeze whatever lingering resentment was left right out of her. Not that she was ready to call the woman her BFF or anything, but at least they’d laid enough issues to rest between them that Mel could envision future holiday get-togethers without getting twitchy.
Of course, that was all up to Quinn. Who, a week on, was still having a hard time dealing. And who sometimes only seemed to tolerate Mel’s presence because otherwise she’d starve to death. Not surprising, Mel supposed as she dragged herself up the front steps to their row-house apartment after getting off work, there being no magic wands handy to wave over the past decade and make it disappear.
Not to mention that damn heartache that had ridden shotgun back from St. Mary’s to insinuate itself in Mel’s life like an obnoxious, freeloading roommate with no concept whatsoever of personal space. And who kept whispering that her new job—a job there was no reason she shouldn’t absolutely love—sucked.
That being back in Baltimore sucked.
That having Ryder as a friend was better than not having any Ryder at all.
That—yet again—she’d screwed up.
The kitten attacked her Crocs, all black-and-white bodaciousness, and Mel scooped up the little purrpot to cradle him underneath her chin. From the living room she heard the Househunters theme—Mrs. Davis’s fave HGTV show. The elderly woman was sawing logs, of course, although she jerked to attention when Mel plucked the remote off her lap to turn off the TV.
Muttering about how she’d just dozed off for a second, that Quinn had gone to bed an hour ago, she’d been an angel, as usual, she accepted Mel’s gentle hug before giving the kitten a pat on the head and then leaving. On a sigh, Mel kicked off her shoes and padded in her socked feet to the kitchen to make herself some chai tea, only to jump when she noticed Quinn standing in the doorway in Target-issue jammies and her Angry Birds slippers. Fitting.
“Mrs. Davis said you were asleep.”
“I was. Did you know the whole house shakes when somebody opens the door?”
Mel smiled. “I did. You want something? Hot chocolate? And I brought leftover cheesecake from the restaurant.”
“Is it yours?”
“No, they have their own pastry chef.”
“Then no. I’m not hungry, anyway. But I do want to talk.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” The birds glared at Mel as Quinn scuffled across the kitchen to drop into a chair, stabbing her hands through her tangled red mop. “And don’t worry, I’m over being mad at you. I think. I’m just...confused.”
Her tea made, Mel sat across from her daughter. “About?”
“Everything,” she said on a dramatic sigh, letting her head flop back against the high-backed chair. “How I can be soooo mad at my...my grandparents and miss them at the same time.” Her eyes lowered to Mel’s. “How you could act, like, everything’s all fine after what they did to you. To us.” Her mouth pulled into a tight little line. “Why you and Uncle Ryder can’t see how crazy you are about each other, geez. I mean, seriously.”
Oh, dear Lord. Mel stared into her tea, sorely wishing it was something stronger. Like Pine-Sol, maybe, to disinfect her brain.
“Well, in no particular order... Did you ever hear the saying ‘Fake it till you make it’?” Quinn nodded. “To be honest, when we first got to St. Mary’s I was still extremely angry with the Caldwells. For what certainly seemed to be valid reasons. And I was pretty determined you’d never have a relationship with them.”
Quinn’s nose wrinkled. “Then how come you changed your mind?”
“A combination of things, I guess. Discovering far more of the truth than I knew before. Realizing how much it takes out of you, being bitter all the time. Angry. And it occurred to me I didn’t want to be the kind of person who hangs on to the past like...like—”
“A gazillion old magazines?”
Mel snorted. “Yeah. But realizing something and making it happen are two different things. So I’m still a work in progress on that front. I do believe your grandparents mean well—now, anyway—and I want to believe your grandmother’s had a change of heart. But I still get angry sometimes. Like you,” she said, and Quinn lowered her eyes, her cheeks coloring. “However, the good news is that each time it has less of a grip on me than the time before.”
Suddenly a light went on behind the kid’s eyes. “Like the Cherokee wolf story?”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, it’s...” One hand went up. “Hold on a sec.”
The chair wobbled when Quinn jumped up and ran out of the room, returning a minute later with a slim three-ring binder which she banged open on the table. “You made me write a report on it,” she said, tucking her foot up under her tush as she flipped through the pages. “Here it is.”
Cramming her hair behind her ear, she read: “‘An old man tells his grandson that there are two wolves fighting inside him. One is evil—hate, anger, resentment, self-pity...’ and so on,” she said, circling with her hand, then continued, “‘The other is good—kindness, love, serenity...’” Her finger skimmed the line until she said, with a pointed look in Mel’s direction, “Forgiveness. Then the little boy asks which one will win, and the old man says, ‘The one I feed.’” Her eyes lifted to Mel’s. “So you decided to feed the good wolf, huh?”
Oh, dear God, she loved this kid so much it hurt. Mel grabbed a rumpled napkin from the table and blew her nose. “I guess I did,” she said. “In any case I finally had to admit it wasn’t right, or fair, to prejudice you against your grandparents. That whatever relationship you end up having with them is between you and them. I won’t interfere, one way or the other.”
Quinn smacked shut the notebook, then leaned back in the chair, her arms crossed high on her flat little chest. “So it’s okay if I like them?”
“Totally okay.”
Forehead crunched. “Even if I’m still mad?”
“That’s okay, too. But everybody makes mistakes, honey. And I mean everybody. What’s important is how you fix them. And what you learn from them.”
Judging from Quinn’s yelp, the kitten attacked one of the Birds. Her hai
r quivered as she leaned down to haul the wee thing to her chest, where it started purring like mad, the contented sound at odds with the pain in Quinn’s voice when she said, “Like you and Jeremy?”
Damn.
Mel leaned closer to pet the kitten. An invitation, apparently, to teethe on her fingers. “And sometimes,” she said, “even the most boneheaded mistakes result in something amazing.”
Eventually, a tiny smile peeked out from behind the confusion. “Even when you want to trade me for a dumb model?”
“Especially then,” Mel said, laughing, and Quinn bounced up to come around and wriggle onto Mel’s lap, kitten and all. Enjoy it while you can, she thought, twining her arms around her daughter’s waist and not even caring that the kid’s hair tickled like hell.
“I really liked St. Mary’s, too,” she said. Cautiously.
“Then I don’t suppose you’ll mind going back for visits,” Mel said. Also cautiously.
“Actually...” She shifted to look down at Mel, her face the picture of earnestness as the kitten gnawed on her hair. “Jack was telling me about his school, it’s right there in town and it sounds really cool, and I was thinking maybe it’s time I try being in a classroom setting again, anyway—”
Mel sighed. “Not an option, baby.”
“But if you married Ryder...?”
“Oh, honey—that’s not an option, either.”
“Why not? The three of us...we’d be awesome together, don’t you think?”
Ice-pick-to-the-heart time. “Probably so. But that’s not the point. Quinn, listen to me—remember how you told me about Jack’s cousin and his mother, in that accident? Ryder really loved Deanna, and he’s still not over it. Not enough to...” She breathed out. “Yes, he cares about me—about you, too—but look what happened with Lance—”
“You mean, about how his girlfriend came back so he broke up with you? Mom!” Still clutching the oblivious kitten, Quinn slid off Mel’s lap. “Hello? Ryder’s girlfriend can’t come back, can she? Okay, that sounded really terrible, but still. Like, totally not the same thing.”
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