“Well,” he said looking pleased. “No one is parking nearby so maybe they weren’t planning anything after all.”
“I hope you’re—” Amy broke off as a battleship-sized car that appeared to be a relic from the late sixties or early seventies pulled up next to the girls. She watched in horror as four boys jumped from the car and piled into the van. One of them was Bradley Baxter.
“That’s it.” Quentin jerked his hand from hers and thrust his drink at Amy. “Hold this.”
Before she had a chance to react, Quentin had the truck in gear and was lurching forward. Popcorn and soda went everywhere. “Quentin!” She squealed and made a frantic grab for the sodas, but ice and sticky pop rushed over her jeans like a tidal wave. Quentin didn’t seem to notice as he tore across the bumpy field and bore down on the space directly behind the kids. Sighing in disgust, Amy grabbed the napkins and began mopping up as best she could.
This father was about to ruin his relationship with his daughter, and she had wet pants. There must be some humor in this somewhere. If only it weren’t so tragic.
“Now what are you going to do, Quentin?” Amy tried to keep her tone soft as he hit yet another bump. “Lock her in her room for the rest of her life?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I will.”
“No,” she said gently. “Remember what we talked about? It will only backfire, and you’ll make her more determined to see Bradley. That’s not what you want. Take a deep breath, calm down. If she sees you, remember to act natural. You’re on a date, and you don’t notice anything amiss. Got that?”
He nodded. He might not be happy, but Amy was sure this was the best way. Things would be OK. Or so she thought until a teenager in a sports car cut right in front of him and pulled into the space he wanted. He blared on the horn, and the kid and his companions stuck their arms out the windows and made rude gestures.
“Same to you, punk.”
“Quentin!”
“Well,” he said in a defensive tone. “How am I supposed to keep an eye on her now?”
“Just pull in here, Quentin, it’ll be fine. Just fine. You’ll be able to see good enough.” Amy rolled her eyes. Perhaps it really was a good thing she was along. Keeping Quentin in line was a job all its own. Imagine what would have happened if she wasn’t here? He’d probably end up in jail for harassing Bradley.
Quentin pulled in to the space she’d indicated, all the while muttering under his breath. Amy half expected him to jump out and storm the girls’ van. Instead he helped scoop up ice cubes and mop up soda, all the while grumbling something she couldn’t hear.
“Would you like me to run and get you another drink?”
She shuddered. “No. Not if you’re going to spill it all over me again.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. Really I am. I don’t know what came over me. As soon as I saw the boys get into the van I lost sight of everything except pounding some heads together. Forgive me?”
She looked at him, saw the earnestness in his eyes, and felt some invisible hand pluck the strings of her heart. Smiling with all the tenderness that filled her, she nodded.
“Here, how about if you sit on my jacket. That wet seat can’t be too comfortable.”
Amy protested as he reached behind his seat and produced a brown bomber jacket. “Oh Quentin, I couldn’t. It’s leather. It would be ruined.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m sure it could be cleaned. Besides, it’s my fault anyway. If I hadn’t had that momentary lapse of reason, you wouldn’t be sitting here shivering.” When he held the jacket out to her, he stole another piece of her heart. “Take it.”
“Thank you.”
Once she was settled back into her seat, the warmth from his jacket beginning to ease some of the chill from her soda-soaked pants, she sighed and tried to concentrate on the silly pizza advertisements that played on the screen. It wasn’t easy. Her thoughts kept drifting to Quentin, to the kiss they’d shared. It was too good to be true. Most likely, it meant nothing to him.
Stealing a side-glance at him, she saw he had his eyes glued to the girls’ van. It was obvious by the set of his jaw they would remain that way. This was a totally different side of him, one she’d never expected to see. It wasn’t bad, she decided. To a casual observer Quentin might appear to be overreacting, but she knew what was in his heart, and it touched her deeply. He was a loving father doing whatever he could to make sure his daughter was safe.
She would have done the same thing in his position. How, she wondered, would it have been if they were here at the drive-in keeping an eye on their daughter? It was a pointless way to think, because the past could not be changed. No matter how much she wanted it to be so, Shayna was not her daughter. She was Karen’s. Quentin’s and Karen’s. The past was over and nothing could change it. In spite of that knowledge, she still yearned for answers. Part of her did, anyway. The other part of her wasn’t so sure she did want to know why Quentin had never showed that night.
That he’d suddenly decided Karen was the one for him wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But she did want to know if Karen made him happy, if they’d had a good family life, that sort of thing. She sat up straight and took a deep breath, mustering the nerve to act casual and drop it into the conversation.
He looked at her just then and smiled. She lost all nerve. She couldn’t ask, didn’t want to know, and certainly didn’t want to risk him comparing her, the loser, to Karen, the winner.
Winner, loser. The words reverberated through her mind in an evil, irritating manner.
When the door to the van in front of them flew open, and Shayna jumped out followed by Bradley, Quentin was out of the truck before Amy could react. Stunned, she watched as he stormed toward the kids swaggering like a macho thug spoiling for a fight.
It’s OK. It’ll be fine. She’d just hop out of the truck and stand beside him, a gentle reminder that she hoped would help divert an ugly confrontation. Rounding the truck to catch up with Quentin, she tried to forget about the wet soda stain on her jeans. It was dark, the kids wouldn’t notice anyway.
“Daddy,” Shayna squealed. She sounded delighted to see her father, not affronted by the fact that he was spying on her. She didn’t even seem to jump to that conclusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on a date. What are you doing here? And why are you with him?” He jerked his thumb at Bradley. “You’re supposed to be at Ashley’s.”
“Hey, Mr. Macmillan.” Bradley stuck his hand out to Quentin, appearing a lot more confident than he sounded. “Bradley Baxter. I worked for you last summer, remember?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, visibly nervous now.
“Oh, Baxter, yes.” Quentin’s laugh sounded forced, and he ignored the outstretched hand. “Now I remember. How’s it going?” Before Bradley could respond, Quentin ushered Shayna away from Bradley.
The boy stared after them and then looked down at his hand. Amy thought she detected a flush creep up his neck, but it may have been a reflection from the colors on the movie screen. He shrugged, stuck his hand in his pocket and finally looked at Amy.
“Hello Bradley,” she said.
“Miss Welsh.” He nodded then looked miserably over to where Quentin was questioning Shayna. He may have taken her off to the side, but they could still hear every word he said.
“Shayna, I thought you were spending the night at Ashley’s. Do you girls come here often?”
“No. Ashley’s sister offered to bring us to the drive-in. Her mom said it was OK. Honest. Then we saw some boys in our class, and they wanted to sit with us. Honest, that’s all. We’re just watching the movie together. I mean,” she lowered her voice, “I’m not interested in dating or anything like that, you know.”
Bradley stared at the ground and kicked his foot back and forth a few times, obviously distressed by Shayna’s declaration. “She has to say that,” he muttered. “Her dad hates me. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”
“I don’t th
ink he hates you,” Amy said in a rush. He seemed genuinely upset and she wanted to reassure him. Her heart went out to the poor guy. It can’t be easy—listening to the girl you’re interested in deny she’s interested in you. “Forgiveness is harder for some than others. Especially fathers.”
“The thing is, I really like her. When she first asked me to—” He broke off as though he was about to reveal some deep dark secret. What? That Shayna had asked him out? Girls did that all the time. “I mean—at first she was just an ordinary girl. But now—there’s something special about her. You know what I mean?”
Amy nodded, and Bradley looked at his toes, as if embarrassed to have revealed so much.
But what exactly had he revealed? That he liked Shayna. That perhaps he hadn’t been very interested in her at first, but now he was. And she may have been the one to ask him out.
He didn’t seem to be the kind of kid who would intentionally break a girl’s heart. But Amy knew from experience how well some guys could hide that part of their nature.
She looked back over at Quentin, who was fidgeting back and forth. Amy could tell he really wanted to pop Bradley in the jaw and drag his daughter kicking and screaming back home. When he caught her eye, something in his expression must have captured Shayna’s attention because she turned and finally noticed Amy.
“Hey, Miss Welsh! Dad, why didn’t you tell me you’re dating her? Cool!” She gave her dad a playful punch in the arm then flashed a huge smile at Amy. “We have to go order the pizzas. Way to go, Dad!” Before Quentin could respond, Shayna and Bradley were running up the field toward the concession stand. Amy was sure Bradley was glad to have escaped unscathed.
“That went pretty well.” Quentin looked quite pleased with himself as they climbed back in the truck. “Don’t you think?”
“You mean because you didn’t punch his lights out?”
“I thought I controlled myself very well.” The grin he flashed her was boyish, reminiscent of the boy she once knew. Her heart leaped.
“You did,” she agreed.
“So why do I feel so empty?” The grin faded, and his tone changed drastically, more in keeping with a father who’d just discovered he wasn’t the most important man in his daughter’s life.
His heart was breaking, she realized with a jolt. So was hers. Because she didn’t want him to hurt. She wanted to spare him any pain he might encounter in his life. Acting on pure instinct as she had earlier when she’d willingly gone into his arms, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He laced his fingers with hers and clasped her palm against his. Oh what was she doing? This was dangerous ground. Be careful, she warned herself. You could get your heart broken again.
Still, in spite of every warning she could think to give herself, she leaned into his side as he walked with her to the passenger side of the truck.
That warning was quickly forgotten, though, when Quentin leaned against the passenger door of his truck, pulling her with him. She fell gently against his rock-solid chest, her hand still clasped in his.
With his free hand, he cradled the back of her head, tilting her face to meet his.
This was nice; this was right. Amy gazed up at him and felt a thrill course through her as she glimpsed the raw emotion lighting his eyes. Her breath quickened as their lips met, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.
If the way he kissed was any indication, Quentin felt the same thing she did. She sighed in pleasure, nestling her hand further into his.
Loud giggles broke through Amy’s consciousness. The mini-van. Shayna’s friends—some of them Amy’s students. She pushed away from Quentin in alarm.
“Amy, what—?”
“Shh. Just get in the truck. Hurry. They’re laughing at us.”
After a measured glance at the van in front of them, Quentin nodded then helped her into the truck. She didn’t really need help, but the contact was nice, and perhaps it was his way of assuring them both that this wasn’t their last kiss.
“So what do we do now?” she asked nervously when they were settled back in the truck.
“Now, I quit worrying about my little girl and start concentrating on my date.”
“But you don’t have a date.”
“I just told my daughter I did. You wouldn’t want to make me out to be a liar now, would you?”
“But Quentin, the whole idea was for us to keep our eyes on Shayna in case anything got out of control.”
He took her hand, caressing her senses with a warm tingly feeling. “I guess I’d just rather stay in the dark. If my daughter was going to run off behind the refreshment stand with that Baxter character, I’ve already put a stop to it, and I’d rather not know what their real plans might have been.”
“I’m proud of you, Quentin. One would never know from your conversation that you can’t stand the kid.”
“Is that right?” He beamed. “Well, maybe, just maybe, I’m not as bad as you thought.”
He didn’t let go of her hand when he slumped down to get more comfortable and watch the movie. But when Shayna knocked on the window on her way back to the van with her pizza, he dropped it and didn’t pick it up again. Amy felt a little disappointed but tried not to show it. They weren’t here to make eyes at each other. They were here for Shayna who didn’t need them anymore.
There was nothing left for Amy to do but try and concentrate on the movie.
The kids didn’t stay for the second movie. Amy could almost feel Quentin’s relief when the boys climbed out of the van and got into their own car. When the girls took off, they honked and waved at Quentin and Amy and were noisily followed by the boys. A few other cars got into the exit line, and Quentin waited until the girls were halfway down the road before he turned the engine on. “You didn’t want to stay and see this movie, did you?”
Truthfully, she didn’t even know what the second movie was. And no, she didn’t want to watch it, but neither did she want her time with Quentin to come to an end. So, yes, she was disappointed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“No,” Amy mumbled. She was upset with herself for feeling so down all of a sudden.
“Good. Because as soon as I make sure Shayna arrives safe and sound at Ashley’s house, we’re going for a drive.”
A drive? “Where?”
“You’ll see,” was all he’d say. He looked over at her and grinned, and apprehension assailed her. What was Quentin planning?
They parked down the street from Ashley’s house and watched as the girls raced through the door. Satisfied his daughter wouldn’t be up to any further mischief that night, Quentin finally pulled away from the curb. As he headed south out of town, Amy’s apprehension grew.
“Quentin, where are we going?”
“Be patient. I said you’ll see.” His answering grin told her everything she needed to know.
“No.” She said it plainly, but firmly. “Take me home.”
“What?” Quentin looked at her, askance.
“I said take me home.” Her insides were shaking, but she managed to keep her tone even. “I’m not ready for a drive down memory lane.”
His sheepish grin told her she was right in her assumptions. Quentin was planning to take her on a nighttime tour of all their old haunts. She couldn’t. She still felt all the same feelings toward him. For her nothing had changed. For him everything had. There was no going back, and to look back would be like salting a gaping wound.
“I can’t do it, Quentin. Please take me home now.” She prayed her voice sounded natural, even though she felt anything but.
Suddenly, Amy wished she’d never come back to town.
7
“Come on.” Quentin shook a couple of lettuce leaves at Rufus and tried to coax the duck over.
Rufus eyed the lettuce, his head titled to one side. Finally he took a slow cautious step forward, then another, waddling from one side to the next until he stood before Quentin—and more importantly, before the lettuce. Dropping the green leaves to t
he ground, Quentin laughed softly. This was their daily pattern, and every morning—even after two years—Rufus still approached him with caution.
While the duck nibbled eagerly, Quentin leaned against the house and watched with less than his usual enthusiasm and pleasure. He and Shayna had yet to discuss the boys and the drive-in. Yesterday, when she’d come home from the slumber party, she was strangely quiet and had shut herself up in her room. He’d hoped to discuss it this morning, but now Shayna was so late there wouldn’t be time to talk about it before church.
Impatiently, he glanced at his watch. What had she been thinking about, sneaking off to the movie like that? True, she’d said Ashley’s mom had given them permission, but he knew without a doubt Ashley’s mom didn’t know a group of boys figured into the mix. Maybe he should have a talk with Mrs. Morgan after church.
Foster, Mrs. Parson’s old tomcat, leaped down from the top of the fence to slink across the yard. Knowing Rufus could hold his own, Quentin sat on the picnic bench to see what would happen. While he waited, his thoughts drifted to Amy.
Why had she cut their evening short Friday night? Oh, he knew why—he just didn’t want to admit it. She’d said she didn’t want to reminisce, but he knew it was because helping him with Shayna was the only reason she’d agreed to be in his presence. Clearly, she was still angry after all these years. And she deserved to be. He owed her an explanation. As much as he didn’t want to face up to the past, he intended to see she got it. Just as soon as he worked up the nerve.
He found himself wanting to prolong the talk for more reasons than just lack of courage. Friday night had warmed something in him. Rekindled a forgotten memory. A memory of more than just the passion of a few heated kisses. It was a memory of friendship, laughter, understanding. The sharing of dreams, hopes, the innocence with which they beheld their future. If only they’d known how things would turn out between them...would they have been so happy then?
Not that Quentin had any regrets with regard to his life with Karen. He’d loved her wholly—done his best to make her happy and he knew she’d done the same. And they had a beautiful daughter as a result. The light of his life. Regrets? No. His only regret came with the way his relationship with Amy had ended. That and the things that lay unspoken between them.
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