Leaving Bluestone

by Fredrick, MJ

  His mother frowned. “We did, but the ladies who volunteered would rather honor your father at the funeral.”

  “I want her there with me,” he said, stubbornly, aware he was being childish.

  “What were you going to do before Lily came?” his mother countered, her lips in a thin line.

  He scowled.

  “Quinn.” Lily squeezed his hand. “Of course I’d be happy to,” Lily said to his mother. To Quinn she said, “I’ll be here for you when it’s over.”

  He looked into her pretty brown eyes, and almost heard her say, “It’s not about you.”

  With a grunt, he nodded, and looked back at his food, but he couldn’t eat anything.

  After breakfast, the family rose and, one by one, they left the table without clearing the dishes.

  “Lily, you don’t mind?” his mother said in her long-suffering voice.

  Quinn stared at the mess on the table—a mess made by thirteen people, five of them kids. “We can at least clear the table,” he said.

  “We need to get going,” his mother said. “People may want to pay their respects before the service.”

  “And the ten seconds it will take to move our plates and glasses to the sideboard will stop them from doing that.” He leveled a look at his mother, and she relented with a sigh.

  While everyone was doing that, he grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her onto the back porch. The morning was gorgeous, blue sky stretching over them, the only sounds bird songs and the occasional car engine. The air held just a touch of the crispness of fall. This was one of his favorite kind of days, the kind too rare in Minnesota, and he was missing it.

  “I want you with me,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, covering his hand on the rail with hers. “I want to be there with you, but—”

  “It’s not about me,” he finished the thought for her.

  “I’ll be here for you when you get back.” She turned him to her and slid her arms around his waist.

  He slipped his hand under her hair to curve around the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the skin below her ear. “I don’t want to carry my father.”

  “I know.” She leaned forward and rested her cheek against his chest, and he breathed her in, willing himself to carry her with him out the door and into the church.

  “Quinn! It’s time to go!” Rose shouted.

  “I’m driving myself. I’ll meet you at the church.”

  “You’re going to lead the procession in that rental car?” his mother asked, poking her head out the door.

  Better than Rose’s beat-up minivan, but he didn’t say. Instead, he drew back from Lily. “Yeah.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Rose appeared and touched her arm. “Let’s get going, Mom.”

  “Don’t dawdle,” his mother snapped to him, and disappeared. Rose followed with a roll of her eyes at Quinn.

  “I’m going to dawdle, just a minute,” he said, and bent to brush his lips over Lily’s.

  Several minutes later, he willed himself to lift his head and release her. Without a word, she squeezed his hand and watched him walk away.

  Chapter Seven

  The metal of the casket handle was cold as Quinn wrapped his fingers around it. When the six of them lifted—his brothers and brother-in-law and two men he didn’t know—it was heavier than he expected. His father probably hadn’t weighed a hundred twenty pounds there at the end.

  Christ, he hated this tradition. It made him sick to his stomach to know his father was in that box, that Gerry had been in the last box he carried. Between that and the cloying scent of all the flower arrangements, he thought he’d hurl the little breakfast he’d managed to choke down. Who the hell came up with all these morbid rituals? The droning dirges, the funeral sprays, the preacher’s somber intonations that made him want to bolt.

  He set his father on the dais in front of the altar and followed his brothers and Tom into the family pew. He let himself tune out the minister’s words. He was a regular church-goer, but he couldn’t listen to the words spoken over his father’s body. Maybe someday he’d regret that, but he couldn’t open himself up to them. Soft sniffles surrounded him, punctuated by Rose’s occasional sob. He would have rather been in the middle of mortar fire, and only that training kept him in his seat instead of tearing down the aisle and out the door.

  He was grateful he’d driven by himself, because once he helped return his father’s casket to the hearse, he escaped to his car to be alone for a few minutes before he had to carry his father one last time. But the drive was much too short.

  He parked his car along the curb in the well-groomed cemetery—the only well-groomed thing about this cursed town—held onto the steering wheel for a long moment before he propelled himself out of the car. Tonight he’d be home, in his own bed, and all this would seem like a bad dream.

  He joined his family at the back of the hearse and waited for the funeral directors to open it. Randomly, he wondered why people chose to be funeral directors. What an endlessly sorrowful job.

  He grasped the end of the casket and helped draw it out, helped lead the way to the covered gravesite, guided it over the device that would lower it and went to sit in one of the metal folding chairs in the first row. More words by the minister, followed by silence. He braced himself for the twenty-one gun salute. It echoed across the open land, and it was all Quinn could do to keep from diving under the damned folding chair.

  And then it was over, people coming forward to say something to his mother, to his family who lived here in town. He saw a few ladies hug Jared, but he turned to his car and made his escape.

  ***

  Lily stood beside the microwave, wondering when she should start heating things up. Admittedly, she hadn’t done as much as she’d expected, because she got nosy and went looking through the house, wondering which was Quinn’s room, figuring it was probably the bigger of the two bedrooms that weren’t the master. The room held a full-sized bed now, and there was some luggage in it. Jared’s, maybe. No sign remained of Quinn’s life here, other than the pictures on the wall.

  She’d decided to use the oven to heat things up instead, when the front door opened. She looked up to see Quinn striding toward her.

  “Is everyone on their way? Because I should start—”

  Before she could finish, he’d snatched her against him, holding her so tight it almost hurt, his face buried against her neck, his body shaking.

  Crying. Oh, God.

  She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair, as he cried silently against her shoulder.

  The front door opened again and she eased back a little, thinking he wouldn’t want anyone else to see him like this. She slipped her arm around his waist and led him out of the kitchen and into the bedroom she’d reasoned was his. She locked the door and sat on the bed.

  He didn’t sit beside her. Instead, he moved to the window overlooking the back yard. She could see the tears on his cheeks, spiking his dark lashes, saw his lips in a tight line as if that could force the tears to stop.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to do. Finally she pushed off the bed and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his back, feeling his shuddering breaths as he tried to get himself under control.

  Finally he turned, pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  She could hear the voices of people outside the room. Likely everyone had returned, bringing other mourners with them. “We can’t. Not yet.”

  “The funeral’s over. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m not a part of this family anymore.”

  “Like it or not, you are. We need to stay a couple of hours. Then we can head home.”

  His mother gave them a dirty look when they emerged from the bedroom, and Lily was beginning to get irritated with the woman’s judgmental attitude. Couldn’t the woman see her son had been crying?

  “Lily, I’d really hoped you could’ve starte
d heating up these casseroles,” his mother said, ignoring the spread of cold cuts and Jell-O salads and chips and dips, all arranged nicely on the table and the sideboard. She’d even set up a drink station separately.

  “I didn’t know when everyone would be back, how long the service would last. Warming them up twice would just dry them out.” Lily used her sweetest tone when she felt Quinn tense beside her.

  The older woman pressed her lips together and Lily forced herself to have sympathy. She’d just watched her husband waste away and die. Lily could handle a few barbs. She moved forward.

  “I’ll get this,” she said, moving forward to take one of the casseroles from the older woman. “You go visit with your friends.”

  The woman nodded, then riveted her gaze on her son. “You need to make up for your disgraceful behavior.”

  “My what? You mean that?” He pointed toward the bedroom. “We weren’t—I just needed some privacy.”

  How could the woman not see that her son was suffering?

  “You shouldn’t have just left the cemetery like that. We have an image to maintain.”

  “An image?” Quinn snarled.

  Lily put her hand on his arm, though she wanted to snarl, too. “It’s a difficult time to know the right thing to do,” she said.

  “The right thing is to be with your family. We’re all hurting, Quinn, and we watched him decline for months. You just come in at the end and think you’re entitled.”

  “He is entitled,” Lily said quietly. “Now isn’t the time for this conversation. Maybe in a few weeks when everyone’s feelings aren’t quite so on edge. Now why don’t you go see to your guests? I’ll let you know when everything is warmed up and ready to serve.”

  If looks could kill, Lily would be a pile of cinders on the floor. But his mother lifted her chin and marched into the living room, which was growing louder each time the door opened and closed.

  “You don’t have to take this,” Quinn muttered.

  “She’s in pain and lashing out.”

  “Then she must be in pain a lot, because that’s her usual reaction to everything. What do you want me to do?”

  She put him to work, just to keep him busy since she’d done almost everything else. When she looked out the window over the sink, she saw his brothers and brother-in-law standing around the grill—which wasn’t lit—drinking beer. She glanced at the clock. Just after eleven in the morning, and they’d been drinking before breakfast as well.

  Quinn saw them too, and scowled. To distract him, she sent him to let his mother know the casseroles were warmed.

  The kitchen was swarmed, people loading their paper plates, and there was no place to escape. Quinn and Lily edged to the side of the room. Lily had no appetite anyway. And when Liam, Jared and the brother-in-law came in, Quinn cupped his hand around her elbow and drew her outside.

  “Have we stayed long enough?” he asked with a rough laugh.

  “Just a little longer.”

  “Women came up with these rituals, didn’t they? These funeral rituals, the food, the flowers. That’s how you know what you’re supposed to do.”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s a time when most people feel helpless, the people in the family and the people close to them. The only thing they know to do that makes a difference is to offer the food, and show our respect to the memory of the person who died by the flowers. I don’t know how it all started, but that’s probably why.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes drifting closed. Her gaze traveled to their linked hands. When had he started feeling so comfortable holding her hand? Would it continue after they returned to Bluestone? And the kissing? Would he finally, finally make love to her?

  Suddenly, she couldn’t be back in Bluestone quickly enough.

  “You should probably eat something,” she said when some of the guests began to spill out onto the deck, probably needing the fresh air as well.

  “I’ll get something at the airport. I don’t want any of this food.” He stood and reached a hand to her. “We need to go catch a plane.”

  Leaving wasn’t as easy as he hoped. His mother tried to guilt him into staying, then he had to seek out each sibling to say good-bye. Lily followed in his wake, and finally they were out the front door. He heaved a huge sigh as he opened the door for her, and practically ran around to the driver’s side. With only a cursory glance at the house, he pulled away and sped down the street. They had already checked out of the motel, but needed to retrieve Lily’s rental car.

  “You know how to get to the airport?” he asked when she got out at the motel.

  “I have my GPS, but this is my first time driving in another state, and I’m not exactly used to cities.”

  “Follow me, then.”

  ***

  They’d managed to get a flight home together, and Quinn slept most of the flight in the aisle seat. When they arrived at Brainerd, they drove home in separate cars, but Quinn parked in front of the landing and got out to walk her to her door. For a moment, Lily thought he would come inside with her and spend the night, but instead he thanked her for coming, for being there for him. He didn’t even kiss her good night. Instead, he got in his truck and drove across the street. She saw him go into the bar to check things out, but didn’t wait for him to come out.

  Things were going to be back to normal, it seemed.

  She didn’t see him until she went to dinner at the bar and grill the following day. She had been relaxed when she came in off the lake—she’d missed the fresh air and the sound of birds after only two days away. She couldn’t imagine what Quinn must feel like. She wondered if he’d gotten out on the water this morning. His boat had been in its slip when she left with her first launch, but that wasn’t unusual.

  As she marched up the steps of the bar, the back of her neck tensed. She’d spent the night with Quinn, had kissed him, had been no more than an arm’s length from him for two days. But now they were home, back to “normal.” How were they to act with each other now?

  She took a deep breath and pressed the door open. Quinn was behind the bar and didn’t look up. He was talking to Leo and smiling a little, looking better than she’d seen him since he got word his father was dying. Relaxing a bit, she bellied up to the bar. Warmth lit his eyes for a moment before they shuttered. Okay. So now she knew how to act, though her stomach pitched. Nothing had changed, not here anyway.

  “Hey,” he said, pulling a glass from beneath the bar and reaching for the gun to dispense her pop.

  “I’d like something fried, too.”

  He scowled. “You’re going to drop dead before you’re forty.”

  “I’ve had a long day on the lake. I need the calories.”

  “It’s not the calories I worry about. It’s the cholesterol. And the sugar.” He slid the pop in front of her.

  Well, at least he cared. “I’m plenty healthy. Fry me some fish and chips, my good man.”

  She got a quirked mouth before he turned to place her order.

  “Up for a game of poker tonight?” Leo asked from the other end of the bar.

  Lily gave Quinn a questioning look. He shrugged.

  “Sure,” she said. Her pulse tripped. Spending time with Quinn in front of Leo, who knew them both too well. Would she be able to hide how she felt?

  ***

  “So Beth didn’t run this place into the ground while I was gone,” Quinn said as he sat with Lily, Leo and Beth around the poker table. Maddox was on tour and Beth had taken his place after some cajoling. He shifted in his chair, still feeling alien after his trip. How long would it take for him to settle back into his routine, or would he ever be the same person he’d been, now that his father was dead?

  “I think business actually picked up,” Beth retorted, inspecting her cards. “God, you suck as a dealer.”

  He grunted and looked at his own cards. Not much better.

  “So he actually has a family?” Beth asked Li
ly. “He didn’t hatch from an egg?”

  Lily grinned across the table at Quinn. “Well…”

  He didn’t react. She’d tell what she’d tell. He didn’t care one way or the other.

  “He has a big family, two brothers and a sister, and only the little brother looks like him.”

  “Oh, mini-Quinn?”

  “Well, younger. Not little. In college.”

  “Are they all snarly like Quinn?”

  “Except his sister Rose. She’s very friendly.”

  Quinn snorted as Lily shifted smugly in her chair. She had a good hand, then. He replaced her discarded card with one from the deck. Before long they were the only two left in the game, and he watched her evenly, which made her flustered. Interesting. He hadn’t flustered her in poker before.

  When she’d walked into the bar tonight, in her fishing gear, her hair in a ponytail threaded through the back of a gimme cap, his heart had given a hard thud, like it was trying to get his attention. All day he’d felt like something was missing, until she walked in. But then self-preservation kicked in and he’d defaulted to their old relationship. She’d seen him at his worst twice now, when Gerry died and when his dad died, and while he trusted her more than any human being, that made him nervous.

  But sitting across from her, he remembered how she felt in his arms, how she smelled, how she tasted. Being this confused was driving him nuts, and he was pretty sure he was driving her nuts, too.

  Hell, when he was in Kansas, all he wanted was to be in Bluestone. So why didn’t he let himself stay? Gerry was gone, yes, but he loved this place as much as Gerry did. If he hadn’t before, he’d come to love it because Lily did. That was why he worked so hard to do whatever she wanted him to.

  So he’d stay. He’d stay and he’d love Lily. The decision made him feel ten times lighter, and he squared his shoulders, stopping himself before he smiled at her.

  He couldn’t make his move with Leo and Beth here. He looked from one pile of chips to the other. Leo wasn’t doing so great, but Beth had a decent stack in front of her. And while she may be living with her country singer boyfriend, she was still pretty fiercely independent. She may not need to pay rent anymore, but she didn’t have a lot of money to throw around. A win for her tonight would be nice.