When the sheriff started to respond, he was interrupted by a deputy Janine recognized as one of the men who had searched the boardinghouse. Terrence angled a nervous glance toward Quinn but spoke directly to his boss. “Do you want me to, uh, escort Mr. Coulliard to the squad car?”
Pursing his lips, Rhodes returned the notepad to his pocket. He stared at his shoes for a long moment, then squared his shoulders and responded brusquely. “No. Mr. Coulliard will come by the station tomorrow and clear things up.”
The deputy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He mumbled an acknowledgment and quickly left.
Rhodes gave Quinn a hard stare. “Be there, Coulliard. I’d hate to look like a fool.”
Janine felt Quinn’s muscles relax. “I will. Thank you.”
“Don’t be thanking me yet. I’ll call Fred and explain what happened to his truck but he’ll probably want to press charges.”
“I understand.”
“And I doubt that Delacourt’s shrink is going to be happy about having his files rifled.” Rhodes pushed back his hat. “There’ll be a lot of questions, Coulliard. I’m betting on you to come up with the right answers.” With that final caveat, the sheriff nodded to Janine and disappeared into the loitering crowd.
Quinn’s arm tightened around Janine’s shoulders. “He’s right, honey. This isn’t over yet.”
“I know that.” Janine squeezed her eyes shut, then spun and faced him decisively. “Quinn, I have to tell you something.”
He regarded her cautiously. “What is it?”
“When I found those clippings…” She licked her lips then took a deep breath and blurted the awful truth. “I was planning to give them to the sheriff.”
To her shock, he simply nodded. “Of course.”
“You don’t understand. I was actually going to turn you in. I thought—” she shivered as Quinn wiped a tear from her cheek “—I thought you were…guilty.”
“I don’t blame you.” He slid his thumb under her chin, urging her to look at him. “From the first moment I arrived, I did everything possible to push you away and make you mistrust me.”
“But why?”
“Because you affected me. There was something about you that touched my heart and invaded my mind. I tried to convince myself that you were just a sweet distraction but deep down I knew that you were so much more.” His thumb traced her jaw then slid down to caress her throat. “Even after we made love, I still wouldn’t let myself admit it.”
Janine was completely bewildered. “Admit what?”
Quinn averted his gaze for a moment, then lifted his chin and looked directly into her eyes. “Admit that I’d fallen in love with you.”
With a hushed gasp, she touched her throat and swayed. “But you were disappointed in me. You…you sent me away.”
“Oh, God, honey, I was never disappointed in you.” He gripped her shoulders urgently. “I was angry at myself for having taken advantage of you when I knew I had nothing to offer you.”
“Nothing to offer?” For a moment her voice failed, and she simply stared in disbelief. Finally she managed to stammer, “You are kind and gentle and decent, not the mention the most selfless and courageous man I’ve ever known.”
He winced at the praise. “I’m also arrogant and stubborn.”
She smiled. “Nobody’s perfect.”
“You are.” He kissed her forehead, then held her at arm’s length. “You deserve better, Janine. Even if I manage to wriggle out of my latest legal problems, I’m still a convicted felon.”
“I don’t care.”
“And if I can’t put food on the table because no one will hire me?”
“I’m an excellent gardener. We’ll grow our own food.” When he started to protest again, she captured his face firmly between her palms. “You just don’t get it, do you? None of that matters. I love you, Quinn. It’s that simple.”
He gazed at her in abject wonder. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I could deny what I feel but that wouldn’t change anything.” Her lip quivered and she fought a humiliating surge of tears. “I admit that I’m frightened of being hurt again. But you are the missing piece of my soul, Quinn. I don’t know what to do about that.”
He took a shaky breath and whispered, “What do you want to do about it?”
“This.” Bracing herself on his shoulders, she stood on tiptoes to kiss him sweetly then murmured, “How do you feel about that, Doctor?”
He stroked her hair and wrapped a strand around his finger to urge her even closer. “I’d rather show you than tell you.”
“Private therapy?” She fiddled with the front of his shirt. “Sounds expensive. How much will it cost me?”
“Can you afford a lifetime commitment?”
“And then some.” Janine laid her head on Quinn’s shoulder. Everything she owned was gone but the material loss meant nothing. Her heart was filled with the riches of love. In all things that mattered, she was the wealthiest woman in the world.
EPILOGUE
Stretching comfortably on a woven chaise, Janine watched a half dozen laughing youngsters splash in the backyard pool of their suburban San Diego home. She lounged contentedly in the shade of a massive magnolia, enjoying the sunshine and the joyful squeals of the children who now shared her life.
Across the yard stood the huge house purchased a year earlier, a wonderful old structure with rambling hallways and an eccentric personality that reminded her of the stately Victorian, that bittersweet place that had eventually provided regeneration and renewed hope for most of its final inhabitants.
Janine hadn’t rebuilt the boardinghouse. Restoring the historic flavor of the magnificent structure would have been impossible, so after the rubble was cleared the land had been deeded back to the town. The site was a park now, a nurturing place where families could picnic and enjoy the new hiking trails winding through the wilderness ravine. Returning to its natural state seemed a fitting redemption for a place which for decades had stoically endured the worst of human behavior.
As Janine reminisced, a childish voice broke into her thoughts. “Mrs. Coulliard!”
Shading her eyes, Janine watched a bouncing eight-year-old clamor down the porch steps and bound across the yard, waving a white envelope. The girl skidded to a stop and wiped her sweaty little face. “The mail came. Mr. Coulliard said I should give this one to you right away.”
“Thank you, Sally.” Janine’s smile broadened as she recognized Althea’s rushed handwriting.
Sally fidgeted. “Can I go swimming now?”
“Is your counseling session over?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And your morning chores?”
The blond head bobbed vigorously.
“All right, sweetie, but when you change into your swimsuit, don’t throw your clothes all over the bedroom. Hang them up neatly, okay?”
With a gleeful chortle, the child scampered into the house and Janine anxiously opened the letter.
Hi, guys!
Well, it’s finally happened. Good old Al has found the man of her dreams. His name is Walter Chubb and yes, the name fits—but you know what? I’ve discovered that paunchy bald guys can be a hell of a lot sexier than those sophisticated Euro-types. Walt even thinks I look good without makeup. Can you beat that? He’s crazy about me, so you’d better start making plans for a trip north. I’m not getting married unless Quinn agrees to give me away—something he’d been trying to do for years.
Oh, I stopped by the shrink house last week and Jules is doing just fab. He sends regards and wonders if you’d ship another batch of peanut butter cookies—says the sugar content helps him focus on the sociological aspects of reconstructive psychotherapy. Personally, I think the guy just likes your cookies.
Anyway, Doc says Jules might be up for a weekend pass pretty soon and Auntie Althea will be waiting. He might even be a full outpatient by next year. Great, huh? But don’t you guys worry about him. Walter and I talked it over and whe
n Jules finally gets out of the booby hatch, he’ll always have a home with us.
By the way, Walter and I will be in San Diego next month—the old poop has never been to Sea World—and we were hoping to stop by and check out your new place. A halfway house for troubled kids, huh? Sounds so noble it makes me gag. But I love you both, anyway (especially YOU, Quinn. If you ever decide you got the wrong woman, give me a call. Walter will understand.)
Tootles, guys. See you soon. Hugs and Smoochies,
Althea
Chuckling softly, Janine refolded the letter and tucked it in her pocket. When the afternoon sessions were over, Quinn would enjoy reading it. He always got a kick out of Althea’s letters and the “you got the wrong woman” part had become a standard joke between them. Janine didn’t mind.
Over the past two years, she and her former tenant had become close friends. Janine admired Althea’s resilience and was still in awe of her dramatic transformation since the night of the fire. When Jules had been committed to the psychiatric facility, Althea had moved to Eugene and visited him daily.
According to Dr. Orbach, with whom Quinn had established a personal and professional relationship, Jules’s excellent progress was directly linked to Althea’s staunch support and unwavering friendship. Thriving in her new role as protector/nurturer, the once-lonely woman had turned her life around.
Leaning back, Janine stared at the cloudless sky and considered how far they’d all come since that time in Darby Ridge. Within a week of the boardinghouse fire, she and Quinn had been married. The Reverend Mr. Weems had performed a lovely service, and the old Presbyterian Church had been packed to the rafters with well-wishers. As for Quinn’s legal problems, Fred Watson had been happy to get his truck back with a tank full of gas, and since Dr. Orbach concluded that the end result of Quinn’s trespass had been in his patient’s best interests, no charges were ever filed.
After Janine and Quinn had moved to San Diego, he’d petitioned for and won reinstatement of his psychotherapy license. The fire-insurance money had gone to renovate this wonderful old house into a haven for neglected and abused children. Now Quinn helped their troubled young residents understand and deal with their hidden rage while Janine mothered them and tended to their physical needs. It was a perfect partnership, a perfect marriage, and the birth of their first child in two months would herald the beginning of their perfect family.
As Janine dreamily stroked her swollen tummy, a raucous screech emanated from the stately magnolia and the branches rustled impatiently. She pulled a peeled apple slice from a plastic bag and a sleek black bird instantly soared from the tree, gracefully circled the chaise, then landed on her shoulder.
Janine laid the fruit on a nearby table. “Here you go, Edgar. Enjoy.”
With a delighted caw, Edgar fluttered over and ripped a beakful of the juicy white pulp just as Quinn’s office door opened. He emerged with his arm draped around the skinny shoulders of a sullen, dreadlocked youngster.
She sat up eagerly, her heart swelling with pride and with happiness as her husband’s mesmerizing gaze swept the yard, then settled on Janine and softened with palpable love. He winked, blew her a kiss, gestured at his watch to signify that he had only one more session. With a final longing glance, he returned to his office.
Janine leaned back in the chair, smiling in contentment. She was happy; she was loved; and she was still the richest woman in the world.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6207-5
THE RAVEN MASTER
Copyright © 1994 by Diana Hinz.
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