At First Touch (20 page)

Charlie studied Quinn closely and said, “You really do look tired, honey. I know this movie is important to you, but what good will you be when they start filming, if you're sick?”

“I'm fine,” Quinn practically shouted. She lowered her voice when several townspeople glanced curiously at them. “I'm fine. If you all want to go home, feel free, but I can't leave.”

“Pity,” Kendra said with a fake show of sympathy, then turned to Charlie and Graham excitedly. “Let's go.”

“We're not leaving Quinn,” Charlie said firmly, shooting Kendra her patented look of death.

“At least, not until Wyatt gets here,” Graham said irritably, then glanced around the town square. “Where is he anyway? It's getting late.”

Quinn bit her bottom lip as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. “He's not going to be here tonight,” Quinn said, surprised by how unaffected she sounded. “There's been a death in town. Mrs. Woods.”

Graham's eyes widened. “Mrs. Woods?”

“Her family wants her buried by tomorrow, before Christmas,” Quinn said, worriedly gnawing at her bottom lip, not caring that she was ruining her makeup.

“Did you know Mrs. Woods well?” Charlie asked Graham, sympathetically.

“Not really,” Graham said, shaking his head. “But Wyatt does not deal well with death.”

“Isn't that kind of in a mortician's job description? Dealing with death?” Kendra asked, amused.

“Shut up,” Quinn snapped angrily. Kendra flinched in surprise while Graham and Charlie exchanged glances. Quinn cleared her throat and said to Kendra, “Death is very serious. You shouldn't joke about it.”

“How is Wyatt doing?” Graham asked Quinn, a worried expression on his face.

“He didn't look so well when I left.”

“I bet.”

“If you could check on him for me….” Her voice trailed off when she noticed Graham's eyes zero in on her, as if he sensed that something was wrong.

“Why can't you check on him yourself?” Charlie asked.

“Once we finish filming for the night, we have more script revisions to go over. It'll be really late before I get out of here,” she lied.

Graham and Charlie didn't appear convinced. Kendra openly snorted in disbelief.

“I highly doubt that Wyatt would care what time you show up at his house as long as you show up,” Kendra muttered.

“He needs his sleep, especially with Mrs. Woods,” she replied lamely.

“If anything, Wyatt needs you now more than ever,” Graham said, shaking his head. “The last time there was a death in town, I sat in the basement with him while he prepared the body for viewing. All night.”

Kendra shivered in disgust and asked, with wide eyes, “Do you expect Quinn to sit in a basement with a dead body all night?”

“If it's good enough for Wyatt, it's good enough for Quinn,” Graham shot back, offended.

“Graham, is that even legal?” Charlie murmured, concerned. “I don't think Quinn should be inhaling all of those fumes—”

Quinn rolled her eyes in disbelief at her sisters' overprotective streak. “It doesn't matter. Wyatt doesn't want me there.” She inwardly cursed when three sets of eyes stared at her surprised. She muttered, “Can we pretend that I didn't say that?”

“Did you and Wyatt have an argument?” Charlie asked, concerned.

“Of course not. Everything is going perfectly,” Quinn asked, brightly. “I'm in the middle of filming my comeback movie. I'm going to win an Oscar. And Wyatt and I are friends. Good friends. Things couldn't be more perfect. The PA is waving for me. Wish me luck.”

She ignored their concerned glances and walked across the town square to avoid her family.

W
yatt wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, then focused on the covered body on the table in front of him. It was just a slab of meat, he told himself. A slab of meat.

He pulled the sheet down and folded it just under Mrs. Woods' wrinkled, still face. He couldn't help himself and stared at her face. She had given him candy at Halloween when he had been a kid. She used to pinch his cheek. She had been…He took several deep breaths and told himself to focus on the job. Embalm Mrs. Woods, then call Kiki Landsman to perform her makeup magic. He could do that. He had to do that.

He looked up at the knock on the door of the embalming room. He was surprised that his mother would venture anywhere near this room, knowing that a dead body was inside.

“Come in,” he said.

Dorrie opened the door and walked into the room. She opened her mouth to speak, but her gaze became focused on the body on the table. Wyatt grimaced and tore off his gloves and protective gown. He threw it in a biohazard bin, then quickly ushered Dorrie out of the room and into the hallway. He closed the door.

“Thank you,” she murmured, leaning against the wall. “I…I've never seen a dead person before. My grandmother at her funeral. But my father made them close the casket before I entered the room.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he said softly. “Do you want some water?”

She shook her head then focused on him. “Your mother told me that…She told me about Mrs. Woods and how you…I came to keep you company.”

“You did?” he said, surprised.

She smiled for the first time. “I don't blame you for being confused. The last time we saw each other, I didn't exactly give you the impression that I would be making house calls.

“I understand—”

“I was out of line,” Dorrie interrupted him. “I never should have said those things to you. I also saw Quinn on Main Street, and I was pretty out of line with her, too. I was just jealous.”

“You shouldn't have been. Quinn had nothing to do with it,” he said quietly.

“I believe you, but it's just no man has ever looked at me the way you looked at her in my office. I guess I was hoping that one day you would look at me that way.”

“I'm sorry, Dorrie.”

“I know you are. I also know that you never thought you had a chance with her, and that's why you asked me out—”

“That's not true,” he protested.

“I'm not angry about it,” she said quickly, holding up a hand to stop his protest. “The thing is, Wyatt, for me it wasn't just about the fact that we both wanted the same things. I really like you. I still really like you. And I just want you to know that…whatever happens between you and Quinn, I'm still here for you. No matter what.”

Wyatt suddenly felt nervous about the hope that lingered in Dorrie's eyes. He tried to make himself feel something. To feel anything. But, it was useless. He was in love with Quinn, and Wyatt didn't want to hurt Dorrie—or himself, for that matter—by pretending that he wasn't.

He hesitated, then said, “Dorrie, it wouldn't be fair to either one of us—”

She smiled and shook her head, stopping him from saying what they both didn't want to hear. “I should go…unless you want some company…in there.”

Her expression was filled with hope and dread. Wyatt shook his head and said, “I can handle it on my own.”

She tried to hide her relief, but it was apparent that she would rather go to the dentist than sit in that room with him. “If the offer is still open, I'd like to be friends. You can never have too many friends, right?”

He smiled. “I'd like that.”

She hugged him with a nervous laugh. Wyatt grinned and patted her back. They jumped apart at the sound of a throat being cleared. Wyatt couldn't help but smile at the sight of Graham standing at the base of the stairs leading from the main floor.

“I didn't mean to interrupt,” Graham said, holding up his hands.

Dorrie's face colored with embarrassment, as she shook her head. “No, I was just leaving.” She glanced at Wyatt once more and sent him a small smile. “I'll see you around.”

Wyatt nodded, and she walked toward the stairs. Wyatt nodded at Graham, then walked back into the room. The smell of heavy chemicals made him wince. He would never get used to that smell. Graham followed him into the room and openly grimaced at the sight of the covered body on the table.

“Is that Mrs. Woods?” Graham asked, sitting on a table on the other side of the room.

“Yes.” Wyatt pulled on another robe and gloves, then went back to Mrs. Woods' body. He hesitated before pulling down the sheet and looked at Graham. “You know that you don't have to be here, right? In fact, you shouldn't be here since you're not licensed.”

“I know,” Graham said with a sigh, then settled back in the chair and crossed an ankle over the other knee.

Wyatt tried not to smile, but he failed miserably. He turned back to Mrs. Woods' body. She was a slab of meat, but she was also someone's mother and a grandmother and someone's friend. And they deserved to see her as they remembered her in life. He once more rolled down the sheet to under her chin.

“Aren't you curious as to how I knew that you'd be down here?” Graham asked.

“Since this is Sibleyville, I figured you just heard it through the grapevine.”

“Well, it is headline news that the Woods are planning a Christmas Eve burial and service, but I got my news from a more reliable source.”

Wyatt paused then said, flatly, “Quinn.”

“Quinn,” Graham said, nodding. “And not that I don't want to spend this cozy time with you, but why isn't Quinn here?”

“I don't want to talk about Quinn.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I
really
don't want to talk about Quinn.”

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” he asked defensively.

“Because Quinn looked close to tears every time she opened her mouth and you're about as cuddly as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

Wyatt sighed tiredly and muttered, “It's not going to work.”

“Why?”

He laughed in disbelief. “Do I really need to list the reasons? You, more than anyone, should know why it's better this way.”

“I know that you have loved Quinn since the first moment you saw her—”

“Oh, please—”

“Don't bother to deny it, Wyatt. You haven't stopped thinking about her since you first met her two years ago. You don't think I noticed how you always perked up whenever her name was mentioned, how you pretended not to notice her when she was in the same room, how you always stared at her pictures in our house a little too long whenever you visited. I've known you too long to be fooled. You've wanted her for a long time, and now you have her. I don't understand why she's crying on Main Street and you're here alone.”

“She wanted me for the house,” Wyatt blurted out. When Graham stared at him in speechless surprise, Wyatt shook his head. “That's right. Your innocent, sweet sister-in-law slept with me so I would let her film her movie in the funeral home. And now that I've given her authorization to do that, I haven't heard from her since.”

“That is a load of bullshit,” Graham blurted out.

“No, it's not, Graham. As soon as I told her the mortuary was hers, I didn't hear from her. Oh, wait, I didn't hear from her until she needed me to sign some papers to make it legal. I was played. As a former player yourself, I'm surprised you're not applauding her moves. They were flawless.”

Graham jumped to his feet, his chest heaving with outrage. “You're my best friend, Wyatt, but if you don't stop this shit right now, I will knock you out.”

“What are you getting so upset about?”

“Why am I getting so upset?” Graham repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have spent the last year living with Quinn, and I have seen the way men treat her. She's smart and funny and next to my wife, one of the most loyal women I know, and men don't recognize that. They view her as an object. You have no idea the things men say to her when she's walking down the street. It actually embarrasses me, and this is coming from a guy who has done his fair share of things to keep men's reputation as dogs alive and well. But I never thought that I would count you in that list.”

“I'm the asshole now? I'm the one who was used, Graham,” Wyatt reminded him angrily. “I'm the injured party.”

Graham abruptly sagged back into the chair, while shaking his head. “You don't deserve her.”

“You'll find no argument there.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Graham asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You're trying to push Quinn away because you don't think that you deserve her?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, annoyed. “What are you talking about?”

“You're scared,” Graham accused. “You don't believe that Quinn used you. Admit it. You're just scared that maybe she actually loves you.”

“That makes sense,” he muttered, dryly, refusing for an instant to believe Graham was right.

“Because if she does love you, then that means you'll have to stop pining for her and acting like the martyr you want everyone to believe you are and actually live your life. You can't hide behind your father's memory, or this mortuary, or family tradition. You'd actually have to put yourself out there and make some really hard choices and decisions about your life. You're not lonely because you live in Sibleyville, Wyatt. You're lonely because you're scared.”

Wyatt threw down his tools on a nearby tray with a loud clatter and stalked across the room to stand toe-to-toe with Graham. “I'm not scared of anything, Graham. I'm a mortician. Once you've seen enough dead bodies, you realize that there's nothing left to be scared of.”

“Maybe that's the problem,” Graham said quietly. “You've seen too much death, and it scares the hell out of you. And, so, you don't even try. All of your talk about having a family and babies was just talk. If you wanted all of that, you would have married Dorrie as soon as she stepped foot in town. But you were scared of that, too. Whether it's Dorrie, or Quinn, or some other woman, you're never going to leave that little apartment over the garage or this mortuary because it's safe.”

Wyatt averted his gaze, unable to handle the sympathy and pity in Graham's eyes. He clenched his jaw, then said tonelessly, “I don't need you here after all. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Graham sighed, then walked to the door. He looked at Wyatt, but Wyatt turned his back on Graham and refocused on Mrs. Woods. He didn't release his breath until he heard Graham walk out the room and close the door.

 

Quinn opened her eyes and stared at the morning sunlight steaming through the windows of her bedroom. She could already hear Christmas music coming from the first floor. Charlie's off-key voice also drifted through Quinn's closed bedroom door. She wouldn't be surprised if Charlie had been awake since five o'clock that morning, baking Christmas cookies and in a general Christmas frenzy.

Quinn turned over in her bed and stared out the window. The green trees and grass had a white covering of frost, almost as if even nature understood how she felt. Cold. As if she would never be warm again. She laid a hand across her eyes as tears once more filled her eyes.

She had never really had her heart broken by a man. Now she had. And it sucked.

“Kill me now” came Kendra's annoyed voice as she walked into Quinn's room without knocking.

Quinn quickly wiped at her eyes and sat up in the bed. “Do you know what the plan is for today?”

Kendra fell on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “If it involves caroling, I'm catching the first thing smoking back to New York.”

Quinn forced a smile and asked, “Dinner at Graham's parents' house?”

“I think so….” Kendra's annoyed expression morphed into concern as she stared at Quinn for the first time since entering the room.

Quinn hoped to avoid an inquisition about her crying and motioned to Kendra's leggings and form-fitting athletic top and asked, through a sniffle, “Have you already worked out this morning?”

Kendra sat on the bed and asked, concerned, “Have you been crying?”

“Of course not,” Quinn lied, then shrugged at Kendra's laser stare. “Maybe a little. I just hate Christmas.”

“Charlie would make anyone hate Christmas, but that's not the reason you're crying.”

“I'm not crying,” she said, blinking away more tears.

Kendra crossed her arms over her chest and said flatly, “This is about Wyatt, isn't it?”

“I have never cried over a man in my life, and I definitely would not cry over a mortician,” she said, straightening her shoulders. When Kendra only stared at her, obviously unconvinced, Quinn tried again. “I'm just stressed. I have a lot of things going on. Helmut is a nightmare. We're getting rewrites on the script every day, and I'm just trying to keep up with everything.”