“Oh, no! How come?”
I hesitate, then just blurt it out. “Jessica is coming into town to talk.”
Quinn looks away, but not before I see the hurt in her eyes.
“She wanted to meet me for dinner, but I told her you were throwing Margaret a ‘welcome home’ party and I couldn’t make it.”
Her feet drag the deck, stopping the swing. “You can skip the dinner if you want.” Her voice is soft. “I’m sure Margaret will understand.”
“No. I don’t want to miss it. That’s why I told Jess we’d talk afterward.” I’m trying to convey that I’m prioritizing spending time with her, Lily, and Margaret over spending time with Jessica, but I don’t think it’s right to flat out say that. I don’t know why Jess is coming to New Orleans or what she wants to talk about. All I know is that I’m dreading it.
“Okay. Sure. Well, it’s getting late.” Quinn abruptly gets out of the swing, making it sway crookedly. “I’m tired, and tomorrow’s a big day.” She heads for the door.
I rise from the swing, as well. “I’ll, uh, just go out the back gate.”
“Okay.” The screen door squeals as she opens it and steps through it. “Good night.” Her voice sounds funny, as though she’s choking back tears.
I want to say something more, but I don’t know what that would be. “Good night,” I call, but the screen door is banging shut,and the heavy wooden door is closing right behind it. I hear the definitive click of the lock.
I stand there for a moment, hating that I upset her, hating that I didn’t come up with anything reassuring to say, hating my own ridiculously acute disappointment that she didn’t give me a good night hug.
But can I blame her? The mention of Jessica was like tossing a cup of cold water on us both.
Damn it. In the last few weeks, things have shifted between Quinn and me. We’re getting close. There’s a lot between us, and it’s not just because of Lily and the baby. There’s chemistry and emotion and respect and humor and shared interests and a sense of just generally being in sync. It’s physical, it’s emotional, it’s mental, and it’s spiritual.
And yet, I’m still a married man. I’m in the process of divorce, but I’m not free. I’m in no position to say or do anything yet. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, much less these feelings, about Quinn.
I push through the wooden gate and step out onto the sidewalk. A streetlight on the corner shines brightly, but the night seems a lot darker out here than it did a few minutes ago in Quinn’s backyard.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Margaret
Friday, July 12
“TODAY’S THE DAY,Mrs. Moore.” An aide with short auburn hair smiles as she hands me a stack of papers attached to a clipboard. I’m sitting in the chair in my room, opposite the door, wearing pants, a coral top, and a necklace Quinn gave me for my birthday. “You’re finally going home!”
“Yes,” I say. I smile because she expects it, but inside, I’m full of trepidation.
It’s not exactly home I’m going to, is it? I’m going to live with Quinn—and, of course, Lily and the new baby, when he or she arrives.
I’ve come to think of Quinn as family, but still, it’s worrisome. It reminds me of going to live with Mama Betsy, then later with Uncle Ted and Aunt Opal. Why, even moving in with my beloved husband, Henry, had been unnerving at first. There are always doubts and questions.What if we don’t get along? What if they don’t like the way I do things? What if they think I’m in the way?I have no reason to think Quinn will see me as a burden—after all, I’ll be paying my own expenses, I’ve arranged transportation for all of my outpatient therapy sessions, and as I get healthier, I’ll be helping her and a part-time nanny with Lily and the baby—but it’s a concern I have, all the same. No matter how old you get, you never outgrow your childhood issues. I’m eighty years old, and I still worry about being unwanted.
Ah, well.Moving in with Quinn and Lily is the perfect solutionfor now. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll move somewhere else. That’s the upside of having some life experience; you know nothing lasts forever. Of course, that’s the downside, too.
I have to admit, the prospect of making a major change at my age is terrifying. But then, hasn’t change always been scary? Yes, yes, it has. Change is frightening at every age. The fear of the unknown scares us all.
The antidote to fear, I’ve learned, is faith. I’m so fortunate to have that. Faith lets me trust that God is good and in control, that I’m loved and have love to give, and that even if I make a bad decision or a mistake, it’s never so bad that some good can’t come out of it. I’ve made it through every bad day I’ve had so far, haven’t I?
Yes. Yes, I have. And I’ve learned that blessings, large and small, are hidden for us in every situation, even the ones that hurt. Every ending is the beginning of something new.
This whole episode with my heart attack and broken hip is an example. I’ve grown closer to Quinn, Lily has ended up where she belongs, and Zack has become a part of Lily’s life. I’m recovering amazingly well. In fact, I’m something of a miracle, the nurses tell me. The doctor, too; he said he was afraid I was going to have permanent brain damage, and my brain is mostly fine these days.
Mostly, but not entirely. I’m not as sharp as I once was; my short-term memory has a lot of holes in it. But I’m okay with that; I’ll trade a little short-term memory loss for having gotten a glimpse of the beautiful, peaceful light where my loved ones and love itself await. That little glimpse broadened and brightened my perspective.
Love is what matters. Love is what lasts. Love is the thing to look for in every situation, because it’s always there. If it’s hard to see, well, it probably just means I need to be the one to offer it first.
I look through the hospital release papers, pick up the pen attached to the clipboard, and sign my name. I check my watch and realize that my trepidation has turned into anticipation.
