A Week From Sunday (22 page)

“What do you mean?”

“What it’s like to lose your folks,” he said, turning to face her. Even in the near-darkness, she swore that she could see his eyes racing over her face. “I know what it’s like to feel like the only choice you have is to run away.”

“You think that I’m imagining things?” she said, breaking eye contact.

“No, I don’t think that for a minute. The way I see it, each one of us deals with grief in a different way,” he soothed. “That doesn’t mean that mine was any harder than yours or anyone else’s, just different.”

“How was yours different?”

He paused for a moment. “You really want to know?”

“I do.”

“All right, then,” he said, placing his hand on hers. His skin was so rough to the touch that it startled her. But beneath that roughness, there was warmth of a kind she had never felt before. “One of the hardest things for a man to do is to follow in the footsteps of a giant of a father. That’s what John Henry Baxter was in these parts. A giant. Does that make any sense?”

“Yes, it does.”

For the second time that very day, Adrianna was reminded of just how much she had in common with Quinn. She knew
exactly
what it was like to grow up in the shadow of a successful father. Charles Moore was a name spoken with reverence in Shreveport’s business circles. As a woman, her following along behind him had never been an option. If she had been Charles Moore’s
son
, she would certainly have had a different life.

“My father was a man who’d come up from nothing and was damn set that he wouldn’t go through life that way,” Quinn explained. “He built the Whipsaw with his own two hands, slaving day and night until it was ready for business. When it was finished, he did the same with this house, and several other business buildings, all the while running the tavern with only a couple of other fellas to help him. He worked himself to the bone. Needless to say, he wasn’t around much.”

“What about your mother?” Adrianna asked earnestly. The woman she’d seen in the photographs didn’t look like the sort that would take too quietly to being ignored. “How did she manage without her husband around to give her a hand?”

“She didn’t like it, not one bit.” He chuckled. “But no matter how much she complained and cajoled, it didn’t make any difference. My father would nod his head, make a few promises, and then head right back to the bar and the bottle.”

“He drank?”

“Not as a regular thing, not like most of the men who are there every single night, but he liked to take a knock here and there. But the booze never changed him. He was still the same old hardworking bastard he’d always been. He was the way he was. The problems between him and me didn’t really start until he made it clear he expected me to follow his lead.”

“Because you wanted to do something else,” she said, filling in the gaps.

“Yep.”

“So what happened when you told him?”

“An awful lot of yelling and cussing.” Quinn smiled uneasily. “The problem wasn’t so much that I told him I didn’t want to follow him to the Whipsaw, it was that I told him I wanted to be a logger. He’d seen so many of the men use themselves up at the mill that he didn’t want me to end up the same way.”

“He was just looking out for you.”

“I can see that now, but at the time . . .” Quinn stopped in mid-sentence. They sat in silence for a moment, Adrianna unwilling to ask questions. Obviously, what had occurred between Quinn and his father had been painful, the wounds still raw after all the time that had passed.

Finally, she said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“But I do,” he said, determination in his voice. “I want you to know.” He took a deep breath, looked to the stars, and said, “At the time, I told him that I thought he’d wasted his life. He just stood there, silent, looking at me. Then I said that he could go to hell, packed my things, and moved out of the house. I never saw him again. He died of a heart attack before I could come to my senses and tell him I was sorry.”

“Oh, Quinn! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. This time, it was her turn to put her hand on his. He took her offer and held her fingers tightly. “I don’t know what to say!”

“There’s nothing to say,” he explained. “What’s done is done.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, unable to come up with anything else.

“It wasn’t long after that that my mother died in an accident, and then Jesse was in the school bus crash,” he continued, painting a family history of tragedy that had forever altered his life. “Even though they had more than their share of difficulties, my mother loved my father very much, and his death had been a hard blow. The day of her accident, it had been raining like the dickens. She should have been watching the road, but her mind was probably on John Henry when the crash occurred. Her car hit a truck and then rolled. She was already gone when the first person reached her.”

From the moment she had first met Quinn Baxter, Adrianna had wondered why he had been so angry at her for causing the accident that had injured Gabe and broken the tavern’s liquor bottles. Now she knew, her pity for him swelling and overflowing her heart.

“I suppose Jesse was lucky,” he said. “Even if he is in that damn chair.”

“What he’s lucky for is to have a brother like you,” she argued, squeezing his hand with all of her might. She looked at him, willing him to look at her, but he kept his gaze away.

“Once things had settled down a bit after the accident and we realized that he was going to have problems, people said that I’d never stay here to take care of him. He would be a burden.”

“Jesse is
no
burden!”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a defensive tone. “But people talk, and in a small town like this, it’s hard not to listen. I just chose not to believe what I was hearing. Caring for your family, for your brother, is something that you do out of love, not because it’s an obligation. It became something of a crusade for me; the belief that he would walk again was with me night and day, and I couldn’t shake it. I knew it was true with all my heart.”

Hearing Quinn’s words, Adrianna knew that this belief was as much to sustain him as it was for Jesse’s need to walk. Losing both of his parents in such a short time had been a vicious blow. Instead of running away from his problems as she had, Quinn had chosen to run
toward
them.

“Doc Bordeaux and I have gone around and around on this.”

“That’s because she doesn’t want you to be disappointed if he never manages to walk again,” she said softly. “You need to listen to what she’s telling you. That’s why she’s the doctor.”

“I just want it so damn bad!”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you that I know what you’re talking about.” She smiled warmly. “When my father first found himself in a wheelchair, I hoped upon hope that he would walk again. He’d been such a robust man, picking me up and throwing me in the air when I was a little girl, that I couldn’t imagine him any other way.”

“What happened to him?”

“Polio. It cut him down so quickly that it was almost as if I had blinked and he’d changed.” As she spoke, the sadness crept into her voice. “It was too difficult to bear.”

“How did you get over it?”

“I don’t know if I ever completely recovered,” she said honestly. “But it was because of my father’s strength that I managed to cope. You see, he took what had made him a successful businessman, honesty and integrity, and applied it to his illness. He struggled and fought, complained and cursed, but he refused to let himself give in to self-pity. He always used to say that a wheelchair couldn’t make him unhappy unless he let it.”

“I don’t know if Jesse has that kind of strength.”

“Maybe not, but you do.”

Quinn shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t be stupid!” she said sternly, turning in the porch swing until she was facing him. “Look at all that you’ve done. You run from your job at the mill to the Whipsaw, working yourself to the bone to provide for yourself and Jesse. You’ve put food on the table, clothes on his back, and a roof over his head and even hired someone to look after him during the day. What is that if not strength?”

He looked up at her sheepishly, his eyes telling volumes that his voice wasn’t willing to speak. Before he spoke, he looked away. “I don’t know if you can really understand.”

Instantly, Adrianna thought of the words Dewey Fuller had spoken to her earlier in the day at the mercantile.
Was what he said the truth?
Had Quinn been forced to borrow from Dewey’s father in order to keep the Whipsaw afloat, only now to find himself deep in debt, on the verge of losing everything that he had fought so hard to keep? A weight pressed down on her chest as she thought about asking Quinn for the truth, yet she held her tongue. After all that he had shared with her, she couldn’t ask for more.

“I suppose not,” she murmured.

“I’m always trying to put a good face on things for Jesse.” Quinn sighed. “The last thing he needs is to see me dragging my ass in the door all worn out. Compared to what he’s going through in that chair, I’ve got the easy life.”

“What’s it like there?”

“At the mill?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I have to admit that when you all are talking about it, I don’t have the slightest idea what is being said. I don’t really understand what it is you do there.”

“Then you’ll have to come and visit,” Quinn exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as if he were a boy getting his first look at what Santa Claus had brought him. “I’ll have Gabe drive you over so you can see it.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she protested.

“You won’t be.”

Adrianna had to admit that the idea of seeing where Quinn worked intrigued her. His job at the lumber mill was another part of his life that she wasn’t familiar with, and she found herself wanting to know more.
Why is it so important to me?
she thought.
What am I feeling?

“Thank you.” Quinn’s voice whispered in her ear. She turned her head to find his face only inches in front of her own, his features bright in the starlight. She made to move to back away from him, a touch of happiness spreading over her to have him so near. Her eyes drank him in.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For listening to me,” he explained. His fingers slid up from her hand and touched the soft skin of her arm. “Talking about my folks isn’t the easiest thing. I hope you don’t mind me burdening you.”

“It’s no burden,” she reassured him. As his fingers played across the soft hairs on her arms, chills ran up and down her spine. “I’m happy you felt you could talk to me.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Neither have . . .”

Before she could utter another word, Quinn leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. Even though she had been enjoying his hand against her skin, she was momentarily startled by his advances. Still, rather than pulling away from the kiss, she found herself embracing it, and allowed herself to let go. She closed her eyes, not wanting anything to interfere with the moment. Sensing her agreement, Quinn’s mouth became more passionate, the warmth and wetness of the kiss making her feel as if she were dreaming. She’d been kissed before, but nothing had ever felt like this!

Her hand circled his forearm and squeezed it tightly. Their mouths melted into one, and suddenly all the things that had bothered her drifted away: Richard Pope, the car crash, Lola’s machinations, and even Dewey Fuller’s accusations against Quinn. It was as if she had been set free, a balloon allowed to float gently on a summer breeze.

“Why did you do that?” she asked when Quinn moved his mouth from hers. Adrianna lingered in the space they had shared, her heart not wanting to let go. When she finally looked at him again, his smile could have lit up the darkest of nights.

“Why did you kiss me back?” he replied.

“I . . . didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I . . . was taken by surprise.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever kissed someone like that before.” His face was close to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her lips and his eyes on her face.

“Me either,” she admitted with a blush.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“It must be nice to be so big you can take what you want.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

“I don’t kiss men who are engaged to other women.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re engaged to be married, aren’t you?”

“If I am, no one told me about it.”

Quinn continued to look at her, his hand found hers and held tightly, the electricity still jumping between them. In that scant minute, Adrianna’s mind spoke eloquently, pleading a new case.

Maybe it isn’t so bad that I’m here in Lee’s Point. Maybe all of the things that have befallen me since my father’s death have had some hidden meaning I couldn’t understand until now.

Maybe . . .

Gently letting go of her hand, Quinn stood. “I need to check on Jesse . . . make sure he’s settled for the night. He was looking for his new pulp magazine.”

“All right,” Adrianna answered. “I think I’ll sit for a moment longer.”