Perfect Timing

by Catherine Anderson

  Seeing Loni like that—so very close to death—brought tears to Quincy’s eyes. He blinked rapidly to get rid of them. The last thing Loni needed was a bunch of weeping fools gathered around her bed. He was glad to see that the animals stood back at a respectful distance, and then just as quickly it hurt his heart. Normally the critters would be all over Loni, clamoring for a word of affection or a comforting pat. It was as if even the dogs and horse understood that their beloved friend was dying and lacked the strength to fondle them.

  It took a moment for Loni and Aliza to notice Quincy and Ceara standing near the still-open door. The child immediately sat erect, her black curls bouncing over the sleeves of her pink top, her dark eyes going wide with delight. “Look, Mama!” she cried. “It’s her, the lady we’ve seen!”

  The little girl clamped a small hand over her mouth and sent her mother an apologetic glance. Loni smiled faintly and touched her daughter’s hand. “It’s okay to forget sometimes,” she whispered. Then she looked straight at Ceara. Voice tremulous, she said, “It is good to finally meet you, Ceara, an occasion a long time in coming.”

  Quincy sliced his gaze to Ceara. What the hell was this all about?

  Ignoring Quincy’s questioning gaze, Ceara drew away from him and wove her way through the crowd to reach the bed. Extending a slender hand to Loni, she replied, “The pleasure is all mine. ’Tis eager I have been to meet ye.”

  This wasn’t going the way Quincy had expected. He’d hoped to tell Loni nothing about Ceara that might predispose her to imagine that she’d seen something she actually hadn’t. Only now it appeared that Loni was a step ahead of everyone. Apparently she had already seen Ceara in a vision. The idea gave him the same feeling in his gut that he’d gotten as a kid when the Thriller Killer roller coaster went into its hundred-foot dive.

  The two women extended their hands. Loni’s fingers closed over Ceara’s. Her eyes went oddly blank. Quincy had seen that look and knew Loni was no longer aware of anything around her. She had slipped into what he thought of as her psychic mode. The room went so quiet that you could have heard dust motes floating in the air.

  When Loni resurfaced from whatever it was that she’d just seen, she weakly asked Clint to take the children from the room. Then she glanced imploringly at Dee Dee, a short, plump redhead of sixty-three. “I must speak with Ceara alone,” she said in a quavering voice.

  Dee Dee plumped Loni’s pillows after the kids evacuated the bed. Then she turned to flutter her hands at everyone in the room, signaling them to leave. Quincy wanted to stand fast, but a warning look from Clint had him hurrying downstairs in the wave of departing bodies. Once in the kitchen, Clint dispatched his children to the family room to challenge each other on the PlayStation 3. Aliza was no sooner out of earshot than Quincy rounded on his brother.

  “How long have you known that Aliza has second sight?” he demanded.

  Clint passed a hand over his eyes. “Since before she was born. Loni saw in a vision that Aliza had the strawberry mark on the nape of her neck.”

  Quincy couldn’t quite grasp what he was hearing. “We don’t keep secrets in this family! Why the hell didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  “Why would I have?” Clint shot back. “So you could avoid swinging her up into your arms or holding her on your lap for fear she’d see something she shouldn’t? Loni had a horrible childhood because of her gift. We want Aliza to be treated like any other child. From the moment she started talking, Loni has tried to teach her to be discreet. Today she forgot when she saw Ceara. If not for that, you still wouldn’t know—not if I had anything to say about it.”

  Quincy felt as if his brother had slapped him. “I’d never treat that little girl different just because of her gift.”

  “Bullshit,” Clint fired back. “Think about it, Quincy. You have a private life. Do you think Aliza has a filter in her mind to block X-rated visions?”

  Standing with her arm encircling Parker’s waist, Rainie inserted, “I thought something was up. One time when she stayed all night with us and I was holding her on my knee to read her a story, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and told me she was sorry he’d been so mean to me. I thought it peculiar at the time; then I passed it off as one of those silly things children sometimes say. Now I realize she must have seen a violent incident that occurred during my previous marriage.”

  Quincy sank onto a chair. This isn’t happening, he thought. But at the edges of his mind, he knew that it actually was. Like Rainie, he remembered when Aliza had said odd things to him, most notably once during a hello hug when she’d cupped his face in her little hands, looked blankly into his eyes, and whispered, “Oh, Uncle Quincy, she’s so pretty.”

  For a moment, that awful sinking sensation attacked his belly again. Aliza had recognized Ceara. What did that mean, exactly? That Quincy was fated to marry the woman, whether he wanted to or not? No, he assured himself. Ceara had popped into their lives. The mere fact that Aliza had seen it happen before the fact meant nothing. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

  Zach stepped over to check the soup. Mandy, her sorrel hair gleaming in the brightly lit kitchen, moved the baked corn bread from the oven into the warmer. Though it was now well past the dinner hour, no one seemed to feel like eating. Dee Dee set herself to the task of helping with kitchen cleanup. Frank nursed his drink. Clint collapsed on a chair and stared grimly at the floor. Parker and Rainie sat across from Quincy, leaning into each other like two saplings being buffeted by a high wind. Sam and Tucker had adjourned to the family room to play electronic Trivial Pursuit with the kids, not, Quincy felt sure, because they wanted to miss out on the adult drama taking place, but because they felt the youngsters needed to be kept away from it.

  Each second seemed to last a small eternity. Quincy couldn’t bear the waiting and got up to pace. He’d worn a path back and forth from the table to the furry mound of sleeping animals in the corner by the time Ceara appeared in the kitchen archway. She glanced past everyone else to home in on Clint.

  “Yer wife is verra spent, but she wishes to see all of ye straightaway.”

  The procession up the stairs was repeated, without the children or Sam and Tucker this time. Loni looked exhausted and was fighting to keep her eyes open. She became more alert when she saw Quincy and struggled to sit more erect. Dee Dee hurried over to brace her with pillows.

  Her voice so faint she could barely be heard, Loni said, “Ceara O’Ceallaigh is precisely what she claims, Quincy, a woman from the fifteen hundreds who has come forward in time to save my life.” She paused to collect her strength, looking at each of her sisters-in-law. “Both of you will die too. It’s only me in danger right now, but if Ceara doesn’t break the curse, your times will come. Only Sam and Dee Dee are safe.”

  Loni let her head fall back against the pillows and closed her eyes. For a moment, Quincy thought she’d gone to sleep. But no. Her lashes fluttered back up, and with a hand diminished to little more than bone, tendon, and skin, she beckoned Quincy closer.

  When he stood at her side, she gave him a ghost of a smile. “I know you’re a doubting Thomas, Quincy, but you shouldn’t be this time. Ceara truly is of druid descent, and according to her, so am I, though my druid ancestors were from Scotland.” When she saw Quincy stiffen, she tried to smile again, but her white lips barely curved. “I think the term druid is unsettling for everyone. It might be better to think of Ceara as someone with special gifts bestowed upon her by God.” She sighed and closed her eyes again. “It explains so very much. In every generation, one girl in my mother’s family receives the ‘sight.’ We always believed the other children were passed over, but Ceara claims all the women and men in my mother’s line have special powers of some kind. They’ve simply not been aware and have failed to practice their gifts. Some have a special affinity with animals. Others can control the elements. The list is long.” Her brown lashes fluttered up to reveal her bloodshot blue eyes. “I look forward to everything
Ceara can teach me after I get well.” Loni locked gazes with Quincy. “If I get well. As Ceara would say, sweet brother-in-law, ’tis up to you, and only you. My life depends upon your decision. Rainie’s and Mandy’s lives are on your shoulders, too.”

  Chapter Six

  Dee Dee hurried over to the bed. After checking Loni’s pulse, she made shooing motions at everyone else. “Out of here. She has to rest. This has pushed her to the limit, I’m afraid.”

  Clint wasted no time in ushering everyone but his stepmother from the room. Once in the hallway with the door closed behind them, Clint rounded on Quincy. “You can’t second-guess this. If Loni says Ceara is for real, then she’s for real. You have to do as Ceara says and marry her as soon as possible.”

  “But—”

  “There are no goddamned buts, Quincy! My wife is dying! She’s out of time. If your marrying Ceara will save Loni, you’ll marry her if I have to beat the shit out of you on your way down the aisle!”

  Quincy stared at the jam of people in the hall. No one said a word. Obviously they all agreed with Clint. He stared after his family as they slowly descended the stairs. He was left alone on the landing—or so he thought, until he felt a light touch on his sleeve. He glanced down to see Ceara beside him. The overhead lights were off, and in the dimness her eyes shimmered like sapphires. “’Tis sorry I am, Sir Quincy. I chose to make this sacrifice. Ye are being forced. ’Tis not fair to ye, but then, as me mum always says, there is little in life that is fair.”

  She moved away, lifted her skirts, and carefully picked her way down the steps, so slight of build that she barely made a riser squeak. Quincy stared after her, trying to sort his thoughts. Impossible. This had been the day from hell, and there was no making sense of any of it.

  Feeling a hundred years old, he trailed behind Ceara to the kitchen. The moment he stepped into view, everybody except Ceara turned to stare at him with accusing eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which way the wind was blowing. If he refused to marry Ceara and then Loni died, all of them would blame him. He felt as if he’d been caught up in a rush of floodwater and was going under fast. A hideous picture of himself explaining his refusal to marry Ceara to Loni’s children shot across his mental TV screen, and he barely suppressed a shudder.

  Loni was just about out of time, and Quincy was completely out of options. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll marry the woman. We’ll take the first available flight to Reno, do a quickie at one of the chapels, and it’ll be a done deal.” As Quincy finished speaking, he congratulated himself on his creativity. As a Catholic, only a marriage officiated by an ordained priest or minister counted as the real thing. He could marry Ceara in Reno but still be free to walk away later. If there truly was anything to this cockamamie story of hers, Loni would get well, the curse would be forever broken, and no more first wives of Harrigan men would die of blood-related complications. “How’s that strike everyone?” Quincy tugged his phone from his belt to find a flight schedule. “No fuss, no muss.”

  Ceara caught his attention by lifting her hand. “Begging yer pardon, Sir Quincy, but what is a ‘quickie’?”

  Ignoring a sputter of smothered laughter from Parker, Quincy explained, “In Reno, they have little chapels on nearly every block with people who are licensed by the State of Nevada to officiate at weddings. They even have two witnesses available. For a fee, a couple can get married in a matter of minutes.” At her disapproving frown, Quincy asked, “What? It’s all legal and binding.”

  “But is it binding in the eyes of God?” Ceara asked. “In order fer this to be a true marriage that will break the curse, we must say our vows before a priest or some other man of the cloth. ’Tis me preference to be married by a Catholic priest.”

  Quincy felt as if a noose were tightening around his neck, but, once again thinking quickly, he retorted, “That’s impossible, Ceara. To be married in the Church, all couples are now required to take marriage preparation classes, and the banns must be posted for a period of time. Loni won’t last that long. And we can’t just walk into a Catholic church and demand to be married on the spot.”

  Frank set his glass on the counter with a sharp click that drew everyone’s attention. “Hold on a minute. Father Mike ain’t half the priest I think he is if he can’t be convinced to bend the rules. It’s plain as a freckle on a pig’s nose that Loni won’t live long enough for the usual steps to be taken.”

  “That’s true,” Clint concurred. “Father Mike is a good fellow. If he understands the urgency and the dire consequences if he refuses, I think he’ll agree to do it.”

  Quincy had lost count of how many times that day he’d felt stuck in a waking nightmare, but this turn of the tide definitely took the prize. Almost before he could blink and collect his composure, everyone in the room was grabbing their coats, eager to drive into town to plead their case to Father Mike.

  Sam entered the kitchen. “Where’s everybody going?”

  Frank stepped over to kiss his daughter’s forehead. “We’re off to get Quincy and Ceara married. You wanna come?”

  Sam shot Quincy a sympathetic glance. “I sure do, but I think Tucker and I should stay here with the kids.” She walked over to hug him. “I always thought I’d be there if and when you ever got married. I hate to miss it. But this is a really hard time for Aliza and Trevor—Trevor especially, for some reason.” She shrugged. “Aliza is worried, of course, but not as much. Maybe she can see something the rest of us can’t.”

  Quincy couldn’t argue the point now that he knew Aliza had inherited her mother’s gift. And he totally understood his sister’s reasons for staying behind. What he didn’t understand was the eagerness of everyone to see him put a ring on the finger of a woman he barely knew. It was madness. This was a family that believed in the sanctity of marriage. As far back as Quincy could recall, his father had lectured him about never marrying in haste. This was about as hasty as it got. He hadn’t even known the woman a full day.

  Clint, already in his jacket and Stetson, hesitated before stepping out the door onto the porch. “I’ll swing by Fred Meyer to grab a couple of rings.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s already seven. No other jewelry stores will be open at this hour.”

  Full darkness had descended by the time Quincy exited the house with Ceara. Since Dee Dee had elected to stay behind to care for Loni, Rainie and Parker decided to ride into town with Frank. Quincy and Ceara followed closely behind Frank’s Ford in Quincy’s Dodge Ram, with Zach and Mandy practically riding Quincy’s back bumper the entire way. What did they think, that Quincy might make a run for it? Well, if he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be dumb enough to take Ceara with him! Okay, so the thought of bolting had crossed his mind. Was that so unusual? He desperately needed some time to think of a rational solution to this mess that wouldn’t involve holy matrimony. Talk about a shotgun wedding; if this wasn’t a modern-day version, he didn’t know what was.

  He had nothing against marriage, damn it. Hell, he’d spent most of his adult life searching for the right woman. Only in his late thirties had he finally given up and decided that he would never find that one special person meant only for him. He’d jokingly told his brothers that the only way he’d ever get married now was if God dropped the lady of his dreams directly in his path.

  Well, Ceara had dropped into his path, all right, but she wasn’t the lady of his dreams. No how, no way. Not that she wasn’t pretty. Stealing a quick glance at her, he saw that she looked great even with her face bathed in the green glow coming from the dash. Pretty didn’t say it by half. The lady was beautiful. But gorgeous women were a dime a dozen. That didn’t mean he wanted to marry any of them.

  Panic nipped at his nerve endings and snapped his abdominal muscles into hard knots. Calm down, he ordered himself. There was still a way out of this. Even if he married Ceara in the Church, he could walk away and never look back if he didn’t consummate the union. The realization eased the tension from his body. To save Loni and please his f
amily, he would go through with this, if Father Mike could be convinced to officiate. Then, if Loni miraculously got well, he’d rejoice right along with everyone else, wait awhile, and then petition the Vatican for an annulment.

  * * *

  Ceara felt as if she’d eaten handfuls of live bugs. There was a horrible, wiggly sensation in her stomach that kept crawling up her throat. She’d come forward to marry Quincy Harrigan, but now that the reality of it was upon her, she wondered what she had been thinking. Because her intended husband had been killed in a riding accident and her kindly father had never pressed her to form an alliance with another to help secure his lands or add coin to his coffers, she was six and twenty and had never yet lain with a man. Just before her departure from home, she’d been closeted with her mum to learn what to expect on her wedding night. Ceara had thought it all sounded simple enough. She was to undress, wash herself, and then wait in the marriage bed for her husband to attend her. No matter what, she should utter no objection. ’Twas her job as a wife to pleasure her mate, and her mum had made it clear that some men had strange fancies. She’d also warned Ceara that ’twould hurt the first time, but a wise bride didna cry out, and the ordeal would be over with quickly. Afterward, Ceara should not be frightened by the blood. ’Twas the way of it the first time fer every woman.

  Blood? Ceara wished now that she had asked her mum more questions. How badly did it hurt the first time? What caused all women to bleed? How much blood was normal? And, almost as alarming, what were the strange fancies of some husbands? Ceara had no clear idea what was coming. Did Quincy Harrigan have deviant desires? What exactly might he expect of her in the marriage bed? Would it be painful? Humiliating?

  Now that it was too late to ask her mum for more details, Ceara’s mind swam with concerns. She clenched her hands on her knees, shrank against the seat, and wished she’d never been so stupid as to leave home in the first place.