“Please … don’t remind me. I’d like to remain blissfully ignorant for as long as possible.” Her words were teasing, but the hint of a shadow that crossed her countenance made him wonder if she was struggling with this milestone birthday.
He made a note to tread lightly. “Am I right though? Won’t you turn thirty soon?”
“Sadly.”
“It’s not sad. And it’s not such a big age difference. Between us, I mean. Twelve years. It’d be different if you were sweet sixteen.” He cringed inwardly, wishing he hadn’t said that, given that he’d been attracted to her when she was exactly that age. But she’d always been mature for her age. And of course, he’d never acted on his attraction for her when she was so young. “We’re both adults, Phylicia. We share our faith in God. Those are the things that should matter.”
“You’re a Gen Xer. I’m a Millennial.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t really put any stock in those labels, do you? What does that even mean?”
She shrugged. “I’m just saying … there’s a gap. I can’t exactly freak out about the age difference between Dad and Karleen, and then start hanging out with someone your age.”
He gave a short laugh. “So quit freaking out about your dad. Besides, I thought they broke up.”
“They did. But I have a feeling if it’s not her, it will be someone else. Soon enough. Dad’s not the type to live the rest of his life alone.”
“Would you want him to?”
She thought for a moment, her eyes saying more than she likely intended. “I want him to be happy. But why does that have to mean being with someone?”
“Someone besides your mom, you mean.” He was careful to make his voice gentle, even as frustration welled that she’d managed to completely change the subject. Still, he knew this couldn’t be easy for her to think about.
“Yes.” She dropped her head. “I know that sounds stupid and selfish. But why can’t he just wait a while?”
“Maybe he is waiting. Maybe that’s why he broke up with her.”
“Then why isn’t he here? In Missouri? Why is he still hiding out in Florida?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, Phylicia. But I think you have to give your dad a break. He’s just been through the most difficult thing a man could ever experience. Maybe—”
“The most difficult thing?” She scoffed. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”
“Sometimes grief makes you do strange things.” If she only knew how well he knew that. “Phylicia, maybe your dad just needs some time away. Alone.”
“What about us? We need him, Quinn. And he just left. At the worst time.”
“I know.” Again, it was all he could do to resist putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. But this wasn’t the time.
“I’m sorry.” She bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.”
“No. It’s okay. I know this has been really hard for you.”
“Everything is just so confusing right now. I … I like you too, Quinn. I really do. Maybe”—she gave him an impish grin—“even more than agape. But I’m still figuring things out. I’m not sure—”
“Phylicia … Phee …” He sat down beside her and took her hand, aware that he’d called her by her nickname. Not even sure what that meant, but savoring the feel of her small hand in his.
But it seemed to get her attention. She sat silently, not trying to pull away, simply waiting for him to go on.
“I don’t mean to rush you. I’m not trying to force you to say something you don’t mean. But please don’t give me hope if there isn’t any. If you don’t feel the same about me, I need to know that. And maybe I need to”—he shrugged—“I don’t know … leave town?”
“Stop.” She gave a little laugh. But her expression turned serious again. “You’re not really kidding, are you?”
“About falling in love with you? I wouldn’t kid about something like that.” He hadn’t meant to use the word love. Not yet. But there it was. And he wasn’t sorry. “About wanting to leave town if you don’t feel the same about me? Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But can you tell me where I stand with you? If I even have a chance?”
It wasn’t really fair for him to ask her such a question when he was holding back some incredibly iffy cards. Heather, yes. But more than that, the things he knew about her that she didn’t even know herself. The things Turner had told him.
“I can’t make any promises, Quinn, but I’m glad you’re in my life. I’d hate it if you left town. If I didn’t see you again.”
He smiled, hope soaring again. “Well, that’s … something, I guess.”
“Can we take it slow? Just be friends for now?”
Hope dipped and nearly crashed. “Just be friends? That’s what nice girls say to guys who don’t have a prayer. To keep from hurting their feelings.”
“I promise I’m not just trying to let you down easy.” She looked at their hands clasped between them. “Quinn, I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve never even had a serious boyfriend. I can count the number of dates I’ve had on one-and-a-half hands. I’ve always held out this … dream. That I would wait for someone like my dad. Mom always called him her knight in shining armor. But … that armor is tarnished now. So tarnished … I don’t know if I even believe in knights anymore.”
He squeezed her hand. “Phylicia … Your dad is still a knight. Yes, he’s human, and he’s going through a tough time. He’s probably made some mistakes in his lifetime, but he’s a good man. I’ve known him most of my adult life, and I think you can believe in him—and believe that other men like him exist.” Quinn wanted to be a man like that for her. Wanted to prove to her that there were still good men in this world.
Phylicia pulled her hand away and rose, turning her back to him.
Her shoulders shook, and Quinn was shocked to realize she was weeping. “Phylicia, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
She whirled to face him, anger in her reddened eyes. “Believe in him? How can you say I can believe in my dad, Quinn? I don’t even know if Turner Chandler is my real father.”
Chapter 29
What?” Quinn stared at Phylicia, hating that he felt the need to feign surprise, yet he was determined not to lie to her. That would only make things worse than they already were.
The air in the clearing took on a chill as the afternoon sun faded. Quinn felt his courage wane with it.
Phylicia looked up at him, her eyelashes beaded with tears. “Did you hear what I said? I’m not sure if Dad—” She dropped her head. “If the man who raised me is my real father.”
“But … I don’t understand.” So much for not lying to her. He understood all too well. He shot up a desperate one-word prayer. Help!
“I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all my woes.” She shook her head and waved her hands in front of her face as if she could erase the words.
“No, Phylicia. Please tell me what’s going on.” Was it lying to pretend you didn’t already know what someone was about to reveal? It was at least deceitful. There was no doubt about that. How could Turner have put him in this position?
She looked up at him. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Sit down.” He put his hand at the small of her back and guided her back to the bench. He wished Jo and Britt hadn’t taken the quilts down to the cottage with them.
Long seconds passed before Phylicia finally let out a deep sigh. “I told you about Mom being married before, but there’s more.”
Weighing every possible response, Quinn opted to stay silent, hoping she would continue without prompting.
“Some of the things Dad told me make me wonder if he is even my real father. My birth father, I mean.” Her suspicions—including almost everything Turner had already confessed to him—poured from Phylicia as if she were sloughing a great weight from her shoulders.
“Wow. You’ve been bottling all this up? Why didn’t you say something? Do you really think the man your mom was
married to before might actually be your father?”
“I don’t know what to think, Quinn. That’s the hardest part—not knowing.”
If Quinn hadn’t talked to Turner, his natural response would have been, Are you sure? Maybe you’re wrong! But saying that would have been the worst of lies, because he was sure. At least, as sure as Turner was. Quinn didn’t want to play games with her. And he had to admit, the conclusions Turner had drawn seemed pretty persuasive. As they obviously had to Phylicia.
Tension coiled in Quinn’s gut. “Have you asked your dad?”
“Even if I could ask Dad, how could I ever trust him to tell me the truth? He—and Mom too—lied to me my whole life. How can I ever believe anything they told me? If they didn’t tell me about Mom’s first marriage and divorce, who knows what else they’re keeping from me. Everything was a lie. My parents’ marriage. My family …”
“That’s not true, Phylicia. Your parents had a great marriage. You know they—”
“But if Dad isn’t even my real father, it was all based on lies. Oh, Quinn, for all I know my sisters aren’t even really my sisters!”
“Of course they are! And what your parents had was real. Their marriage, their love for you and your sisters. Anyone who worked at Langhorne Construction would tell you that. I witnessed it with my own eyes. Even if what you fear is true, Phylicia, it doesn’t change the truth of your family. You can’t fake love for an entire lifetime. What’s on your birth certificate is only a name.”
“Oh, it’s Dad’s name on there. I checked.” She dipped her head as if she should be ashamed for investigating.
“Then that should settle it. Could your dad have adopted you?” He was getting in way too deep. And Turner’s name on the birth certificate didn’t settle anything. Quinn knew the truth.
The deeper he dug this pit of deceit, the more reason Phylicia would have for not trusting him, for doubting his love for her, his worthiness to be the kind of man she’d waited for her whole life.
She took a shuddering breath. “Dad’s name on my birth certificate doesn’t mean anything. Apparently, you can put any name you want in the space that says ‘Father.’ I was always told I weighed just under seven pounds at birth, but what if that was a lie too? What if I weighed nine pounds?”
His face must have revealed his confusion.
“Don’t you see? If Mom was already pregnant by her first husband, then I could have come along full-term only a few months after they got married. They would have had to lie and say I was a preemie or … lie about when they got married.” Her jaw went slack, and her tone said she’d only now thought of that possibility—one Turner had confirmed to Quinn was exactly the case.
He scrambled to think of a response. “Isn’t … a baby’s weight on the birth certificate?”
“I don’t think they put that on birth certificates. At least not in Cole County, Missouri. I was born in Jefferson City. At least that’s what my parents told me. But how do I know if any of that is true? If what they showed me is even my actual birth certificate?” She scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands.
“Phylicia, you wouldn’t even have gotten into college without a legal birth certificate. Just because your parents didn’t tell you the truth about your birth father—” He stopped short. He was digging his own grave. “What I mean is … your mom being married before doesn’t mean they’ve lied about everything since.”
She stared at him. “Why did you say that?”
He willed himself to meet her gaze. “Say what?”
“Do you know something, Quinn? You just said, ‘the truth about your birth father.’ Why would you say that?”
“That’s what you said.”
She cocked her head and the sting of betrayal in her voice told him he needed to come clean. Now. But how could he, when he was in danger of losing the trust he’d worked so hard to gain? If he was straight with her, he was equally in danger of causing a rift between her and her father. Far worse than the one that was already there.
Not to mention the wedge it would put between him and Turner if he betrayed his boss’s confidence.
What a mess! He raked a hand through his hair. He should have stopped Turner before all that spilled out, but it had happened within a matter of minutes. And he’d had no way of knowing the overwhelming details that were going to come out. Or the profound ramifications those details would have toward the woman he loved.
Yes, he loved her. He knew that now without a doubt.
And Turner’s revelation may have ruined any chance Quinn had of ever winning Phylicia over. His jaw tensed. This conversation was not going at all the way he’d planned.
Phee stared into Quinn’s brown eyes, his gaze intense in a way that didn’t give her any comfort. “What is going on?”
He looked away. “Phylicia …”
“What did you start to say, Quinn?” The minute the words were out, she knew they were the wrong ones. She’d hijacked his declaration of his feelings for her. But she had to sort out this mess with Dad before she could think straight about her feelings for Quinn.
“What were you trying to say just now?” she asked again. “And I don’t mean earlier … about us. Is there something you know? Something about Dad that you’re not telling me?”
His eyes filled with pain she didn’t understand. “You need to talk to your dad, Phylicia. It’s not my place to even answer your question. I … you just need to talk to your dad.” His Adam’s apple worked up and down. “And I need to go.”
He rose and took two long strides.
She ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Quinn, what is going on? What are you not telling me?” She couldn’t even fathom why Quinn would know something he couldn’t talk to her about. Something she was supposed to talk to Dad about. “Have you talked to my dad about this?”
He gently but firmly removed her hand from his arm. “I’m really sorry, but I need to go. I know it feels cruel for me to just leave like this, but I don’t have a choice. You call your dad. Talk to him. And then we’ll talk. I promise.”
She called after him, but only heard the scuff of his boots as he quickly descended the steps. And then the roar of his pickup. She ran to the steps in time to see his truck disappear down the lane in a cloud of dust.
It was almost dark now, as the sun gradually slipped behind the trees. She descended the steps slowly, feeling dazed. She replayed their conversation, trying to figure out how they’d gotten from Quinn telling her he cared for her—loved her, even—to the disturbing questions he’d raised about Dad. She couldn’t trace the path of their conversation, but she had a sinking feeling that her questions had been answered. By Quinn’s refusal to speak about it with her. What else could it mean?
She didn’t feel like talking to Jo and Britt, so she slipped into the house and grabbed her keys and phone and went out to her car. She dialed Dad’s number, but it rang four times, then went to voicemail.
She bent over the steering wheel. “God, I’m so confused! Everything is hitting at once. I can’t talk to my sisters about this without betraying Mom and Dad, and now I feel like I can’t even talk to my best friend about it.” She took in a short breath.
Was Quinn her best friend? She hadn’t consciously thought of him in that way before. But of all the people left in her world, he was the one she wanted to talk to now, when everything seemed dark and perplexing. He was the one whose shoulder she wanted to lean on, cry on. But just like Dad, Quinn had shut her out. And she didn’t even know why.
And why had she rejected him? It couldn’t have been easy for Quinn to confess his feelings for her. And though she honestly couldn’t remember how the conversation had veered so far afield, she knew she’d rejected him. Why? If she thought of him as her best friend, why? She thought the world of Quinn.
But Dad’s strange actions had made her leery. And weary. If she couldn’t trust her own father—or was it her own father? Did she even know that man?
She didn’t kno
w who she could trust anymore.
She scrubbed at her face, as if she could wash the confusion away. She should go inside so her sisters wouldn’t worry about her, thinking she was still up at the clearing after dark. Ordinarily, Jo and Britt were the first ones she would have gone to when life didn’t make sense. Especially as her childhood friends had begun to marry and move away. But if she told her sisters about her suspicions now, they would be devastated. And angry at Dad. And that wouldn’t help anyone.
She dialed Dad again. Again, it rang a few times before going to voicemail. Was he purposely ignoring her calls? Or had something happened? Now she was worried about him, thinking of Britt’s fears that Dad might be going through a depression or some kind of breakdown.
The tears came, and she took deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down, to go for help to the One who was never confused. The One who’d loved her since before the day she was born, who knew every detail of her life and loved her regardless.
She bowed her head, and though her whispers seemed garbled to her own ears, she knew that God understood perfectly.
A tentative peace finally came. Not a peace that came from having all her questions answered. Far from it. But a sense of calm blanketed her, one she knew would carry her through the night. God’s mercies would be new tomorrow and tomorrow and every tomorrow to come, until she finally had the answers she needed.
Chapter 30
Quinn? You’re up awfully early.” Nine hundred miles away in Orlando, Turner sounded like he hadn’t a care in the world.
But Quinn wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”
“Why? Is everything okay?” Now alarm tinged Turner’s voice.
“You need to talk to your daughter.”
“What’s going on? Has something happened with the girls?”
“The girls are fine, but you need to talk to your daughter,” Quinn said again. He’d made up his mind on the drive home from the cottages last night that he was going to be frank with Phylicia’s father, and he didn’t care if it meant losing his job or forfeiting his friendship with Turner.
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