Rifts and Refrains

by Devney Perry

  “Wait a minute. Kira, Vivi and what?” Ethan asked.

  Jonas grumbled under his breath. “Baby. Baby on the way. Kira’s pregnant.”

  I turned my attention to Colin as the sound of congratulations and hugs took over their conversation. “How are you doing, buddy?”

  “Okay.” He kept his eyes on his plate. “Do I have to eat all this?”

  “No.” I shook my head, seeing he’d eaten half a roll and a couple bites of the cold cuts I’d put on his paper plate. I’d forced myself to eat the sandwich I’d made and some broccoli salad, but I wasn’t hungry either.

  “How much longer do we have to stay?” Colin looked up to me, his brown eyes sad and pleading for us to leave.

  “Not much longer.” I ruffled his hair and dropped my arm behind his seat.

  He’d had a good time at my parents’ place last night and it had been another distraction. But what he needed—what we both needed—was some time alone. As soon as we could, I was sneaking him out of here and taking him home. We’d get out of these suits and be together. He could cry if he needed without worrying that his friends from Sunday school were watching. We could talk it through.

  Though I wasn’t sure what to say to him.

  Today was Colin’s first funeral. He was hurt. He was confused. But I didn’t want to push him to talk until he’d worked it out in his head. Until he had his questions to ask. That was his style when something weighed heavily on his heart and mind. He needed space alone to process. Like father, like son.

  Colin had leaned into my side during the funeral, crying on and off. During Quinn’s song, I’d held him tight and muffled his sobs in my suit jacket. He’d clung to me today.

  Or maybe I’d clung to him.

  The only time he’d had to sit with Mom at the service today was when I’d gone on stage with the other members of the church band to lead the room in Christmas carols—another one of Nan’s requests. I hadn’t thought “Silent Night” would be quite as powerful as it was on Christmas Eve, when the entire congregation would hold white candles and we’d dim the lights to sing in the glow. But even in summer, lights on full, it had been quite the ending to her funeral.

  Nan would have been damn proud.

  She would be so missed. There was a hole she’d left behind that no one would ever fill.

  In time, the grief would fade, but right now when the wound was hemorrhaging, I wasn’t sure how I’d ever bring myself to delete her number from my contacts. How I’d drive down her street again or eat tomato soup. Nan had made the best tomato soup and nothing I’d ever found outside her small kitchen could compare.

  “Dad, can we go now?” Colin leaned his head into my side.

  “Yeah.”

  Bradley and Ruby were mulling around, greeting people and receiving hugs. My mom was clearing plates with a vengeance, refusing to sit down because she didn’t want Quinn’s parents to lift a finger today.

  The caterer had brought in sandwich trays and a plethora of salads, all set up as a buffet in the common area of the church’s basement. There was more food here than I’d seen at the annual winter potluck. Carafes of yellow lemonade and red fruit punch brightened the tables. The industrial coffee pot was likely drained given the number of paper cups I spotted in hands around the room.

  Walker had told me that in her final requests, Nan had insisted on a low-fuss meal in the church’s basement. Don’t rent out a place and spend a bunch of money. Just buy nice flowers.

  And nice they had been. The blooms in the sanctuary were prettier than most I’d seen at weddings.

  The basement was packed with tables and every seat full. Small groups hugged the walls as they visited, and even though the air conditioner was running on high, the room was beginning to get stuffy.

  There’d be no graveside function today because Nan had been cremated. Her ashes were to be taken to the mountains, to be spread in the fall, her favorite time of year, in the same place where she’d spread her husband’s ashes a decade ago.

  So this was it. After the reception and the idle chatter that had slowly begun to give me a headache, the day was over, at least for Colin and me. Everyone was preoccupied, the perfect time for us to sneak out and not be missed.

  We’d go home and get into some jeans. Maybe we’d play catch for a while outside until dinner. Then I’d order Chinese takeout because Colin loved it.

  I collected his plate and stood, holding out his chair, but before I could turn, a body bumped into mine. There was no need to turn to know that body. I’d held it in my arms last night as I’d drifted off to sleep.

  Before she’d left.

  “Sorry.” Quinn met my gaze for only a moment, then seemed to find the lapels of my coat fascinating.

  “Close quarters today.”

  Her eyes scanned the room. “Yeah. I’m surprised everyone fit down here.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Ready to escape.” She dropped her focus to Colin and nudged his elbow. “Hey, Colin. You look nice. I’ve got some guys I’d like you to meet if you have a second.”

  He nodded, his gaze darting past her.

  “Jonas and Ethan, meet Colin. He’s a fan.”

  “Hey.” Ethan twisted in his seat, holding out his hand, shaking Colin’s. “I’m Ethan. Hush Note’s tour manager.”

  Wonder filled my son’s eyes as Jonas stood and stretched across the table to bump fists. “Hi, Colin. I’m Jonas. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” His cheeks flushed and he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across his face.

  “How do you guys know each other?” Jonas asked, walking around the end of the table to join us. He looked exactly the same as he did on magazine covers and in music videos, but not as tall as I’d expected, given how much of a giant he was on stage. He was a few inches shorter than my six-foot-three.

  “I grew up next door to Colin’s dad”—Quinn gestured to me—"Graham.”

  I shook his hand as he offered it. “Hi.”

  “Graham. Good to meet you.” Jonas looked me up and down, his eyes narrowing before switching to Quinn.

  Had she told him about me? That we’d dated as kids?

  I shifted Colin into the middle of the huddle, my hands on his shoulders. “Are you in town for long?”

  Would they be flying out with Quinn on Monday morning?

  “We’re taking off before too long,” Jonas said. “Just came to pay our respects. I didn’t know Nan, but I talked to her on the phone a handful of times over the years whenever she’d call Quinn. She seemed like a special woman.”

  “That she was.”

  Ethan stood and put his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, but thanks.” She gave him a sad smile.

  “Just your airplane on Monday.” He chuckled. “Right?”

  “Right,” she muttered.

  Monday and she’d be gone. I’d been pissed this morning when I’d woken up and she’d been gone, but maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t stayed the night. I didn’t need that kind of intimacy from Quinn. We’d crossed enough lines with the sex.

  “You’re leaving?” Colin asked her.

  She nodded. “On Monday. I have to get home to Seattle.”

  “Why?”

  “To write our next album,” she said. “I have to get back to work.”

  That might be part of the reason, but mostly she had to get away from here. Away from her family and from me.

  “We should go.” I nudged Colin forward but he didn’t move.

  “You said you’d teach me a couple things on my drums before you left.”

  “Oh. That’s right.” Quinn’s forehead furrowed “We’ll do it, um . . .”

  “Today?” Colin suggested.

  “Make sure she teaches you the good stuff,” Jonas said before either Quinn or I could answer.

  Colin beamed, and for a day when I didn’t think I’d see his smile, I couldn’t object.

  “I, um
. . .” Quinn’s eyes hesitantly shifted my way. “Is today all right?”

  “Please, Dad?” Colin begged.

  How did I say no? “Yeah. Today’s great.”

  So much for an afternoon alone with my son. But if playing the drums with Quinn cheered him up, I guess that was the goal anyway. We’d order Chinese after Quinn left. How long did a drum lesson take? An hour? Maybe two?

  “Do you want to go now? Or later?”

  She glanced around the room, finding her family.

  They were sitting three tables over. Walker and Mindy were helping their kids eat lunch. Brooklyn was feeding the baby a bottle while Pete chatted with Walker. Bradley and Ruby chose that moment to carry over plates of their own and sit in the seats their children had saved for them.

  Quinn’s family.

  Sitting without her.

  Did they even glance over as they’d reserved seats? Had they even thought about including her and her friends?

  I doubted it was intentional. The Montgomerys weren’t like that, but in a way, after nine years, they’d forgotten her. They’d formed new habits.

  “We can go now,” she said. “Can I have a minute to say goodbye and walk these guys out?”

  “No problem.” I pointed toward the rear of the building. “We’re parked in the back lot. Meet you out there.”

  I steered Colin through the people, weaving past tables and chairs. Many nodded and said hello, but no one stopped us as we headed for the stairs. We climbed them, going straight for the exit, and the second we were outside, I tugged on my tie. “I hate ties.”

  “Me too.” Colin fought with his, unable to loosen it enough. I’d tied it for him this morning.

  “How are you doing, kiddo?” I asked, bending down to undo the tie’s knot.

  “I’m okay. That was pretty sad.”

  “Funerals usually are.” I lifted the tie off his head. “But it gives us a chance to honor those who’ve passed. To say our goodbyes.”

  “I cried.” He hung his head.

  Colin had been a regular crier as a baby and toddler. I hadn’t thought much of it as he’d moved into preschool because what four-year-old didn’t cry? But when he’d started kindergarten at five, he’d gotten teased by some of the older kids at school, mostly while they played football or soccer at recess. He was competitive and loved to play, but my boy loved to win.

  When he’d lost or made a mistake, he’d get frustrated and cry.

  Kids were damn mean, and he’d been labeled a cry baby. His teacher had called me because it had become something of a regular occurrence. So I’d spent a lot of time talking about it and teaching him ways to deal with his frustration without breaking down into tears. We’d also talked a lot about how winning wasn’t everything—we were still working on that one.

  Though his crying tendency had stopped, I worried we’d gone too far in the other direction. He was nearly afraid to cry.

  “There’s no shame in crying on a day like today.”

  He lifted his chin. “You didn’t.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not hurting in here.” I put my hand over my heart. “We’re going to miss Nan, aren’t we?”

  “A lot.” His chin quivered.

  “Let’s talk about her often so we don’t forget. Remember how she used to trick us and point to our shirt, ask ‘What’s that?’ then flick our noses when we’d look?”

  Colin giggled. “You fell for it every time.”

  “Every time. Oldest trick in the book, she’d say. But not you. You didn’t fall for her tricks.”

  “Nope.” His chest puffed with pride. “I’m not gullib, like you.”

  “Gullib-le.”

  “Gullible,” he repeated.

  “Come on.” I nodded toward the parking lot and stood. “Let’s get buckled in while we wait for Quinn.”

  He slipped his hand in mine as we walked.

  I looked down, taking in his small fingers. When had they gotten so long? His head came to my waist now. The baby fat on his cheeks was only a memory.

  I’d been such a wreck as a single dad, just trying to survive, that I hadn’t savored enough of those times when he’d fit in the crook of my arm. I imagined most parents felt that way when they looked at their kids and realized time wasn’t just moving fast, it was a damn lightning streak.

  We got to the truck and Colin climbed in the back, securing himself in his booster while I got in and rolled the windows down, forgoing air conditioning for some fresh air.

  It didn’t take long for Quinn to walk outside the side door with Jonas and Ethan in tow. She hugged them both, holding tight. Jonas kissed her cheek and said something in her ear that made her nod before they walked toward the street, Ethan’s fingers flying over his phone’s screen.

  She stood there, staring at their backs. Then she looked to the door of the church.

  Had she told anyone she was leaving? My guess was no. Would they notice she was gone? Or would it take hours, until everyone else began to leave the building, and they’d remember the woman with the golden voice?

  Quinn looked lost. Alone.

  It broke my damn heart to see her standing there by herself.

  I leaned out the window and whistled, the shrill noise echoing through the lot.

  Quinn’s eyes snapped to my truck and she jogged from the church, her heels clicking fast as she fled.

  I leaned across the seat, stretching for the door handle. It popped open just as she reached the door. She opened it wider and hopped inside.

  She wouldn’t look at me as she strapped on her seat belt, but she did cast a glance to Colin behind her. Quinn did her best to camouflage the anguish on her face with a tight smile.

  “I was thinking of ordering Chinese takeout for dinner.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think them through. So much for a short drum lesson. But I couldn’t send her home to a lonely house. Not today. “Sound good to you guys?”

  “Yes.” Colin fist pumped.

  Quinn nodded, finally lifting her chin to look at me. “Sounds great. Sweet and sour pork?”

  My favorite. Hers too.

  “Obviously.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn

  “This is a beautiful home,” I told Graham as we pulled into his driveway.

  Last night, it had been too dark to notice the details. That and I’d been in a haze, my mind consumed with lust and heat and anticipation. When I’d snuck out, I’d kept my chin down and tiptoed out the front door silently before meeting my Uber.

  “We’ve been fixing it up.” Graham shot Colin a smile through the rearview mirror.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Four years. We were in an apartment before, but I was sick of the noise and neighbors. We needed our own space. I needed a decent garage to store tools. So I saved up for a down payment and bought it the year Walker and I started the company.”

  The house was a single-level rancher surrounded by towering oak trees and a row of paper birch beside the garage. The exterior was painted black, something I wouldn’t have suspected would work for a smaller home, but with the white windows, honey-colored wood shutters and matching door, it worked.

  It was charming yet masculine, balanced perfectly between classic style and modern flair.

  “Want to see my room?” Colin asked, unbuckling as Graham eased into the garage. There was a white trailer parked in the other stall, the Hayes-Montgomery emblem on the side, and tools upon tools in every free space.

  “Sure.” I stepped out of the truck and followed him inside, taking it all in as I walked.

  We entered through a laundry room that must not have ranked high on Graham’s update list because the tan linoleum floor had a visible wear pattern leading straight through the center of the room. The brown laminate countertop beside the washer and dryer was chipped.

  The kitchen came next and it was much like the laundry room. Clean and tidy but out of date. The cabinets were a yellowing oak and the
counters matched the laundry room’s. But the stainless appliances were new.

  “Come on!” Colin waved me to follow when I hesitated in the living room while glancing out the French doors to the deck beyond.

  Graham came in behind me, his keys rattling as he dropped them in the kitchen and shrugged off his suit coat. The starched cotton of his shirt pulled at his broad shoulders, and my mouth went dry.

  After last night, I hadn’t planned to return to Graham’s home. Ever. But here I was, and I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about his bedroom. I took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. The smell of his cologne and soap filled my nose.

  “Quinn!” Colin shouted from a room and I walked faster, not letting myself look toward the master down the hallway.

  Why had I thought this was a good idea? I’d had sex with Graham last night, in that room. But staying at church hadn’t been an option, not today when my heart was too fragile.

  Jonas and Ethan were headed to the East Coast, and though they would have stayed if I’d asked, I knew they each had people waiting for them at home. If not for Graham, I would have been alone at the church, lingering while my family flitted around. Someone might as well have tattooed outcast daughter on my forehead.

  Maybe I should have stayed and forced my way into my family. But I just . . . didn’t belong. My fault or their fault, I was struggling to place the blame. It was reality. We’d grown apart.

  Then Colin Hayes, and his father, had come to my rescue. Bless that kid.

  “Wow.” I stepped into his room. “Sweet room.”

  “Thanks.” He plopped down on the bed, grinning as he glanced around.

  The walls were painted a light, neutral cream and each seemed to have a different theme. His twin bed was pushed against the wall opposite the closet and above the headboard hung a baseball bat. The shelf above his white desk in the corner was crammed with assembled Lego race cars and monster trucks. A Hush Note poster was tacked up beside the window. It was signed by Jonas, Nix and me.

  It was no surprise that Colin was a child with multiple interests. Graham had been that way too.

  “Nan gave that to me.” He pointed to the poster.