Gravity
Back at her parents’ house, Quinn stood barefoot on the hardwood floors of her old bedroom. The tie Dad had given her all those years ago slid through her fingers like answers to prayers that had always been out of reach. Two days of silence from Cooper confirmed that obviously hadn’t changed.
A muffled version of Ava’s ringtone rang from under her pillow where Quinn’d left her cell buried. She let the call go to voice mail to join the unanswered messages from Ti and Livy.
It’d be hard enough facing an entire party of people today while pretending to be fine. But at least Ginny’s guests didn’t know how see-through she felt, unlike Cooper’s family. And Ava? The girl would dish out an entire speech on how losing their jobs over this was the beginning of a new adventure. Only problem was they had no place to start.
Quinn wiped under her eyes, refusing to believe it was all for nothing. She would’ve done a hundred things differently, but writing that final piece on Cooper wasn’t one of them. It’d never be printed now, and maybe he’d never read it even if it was. But if Brayden did one day, then it’d be worth it.
A gentle knock at the door quaked into the quiet room. The sight of Dad in one of his plaid short-sleeved button-downs had Quinn dabbing at her eyes all over again. She turned away but doubted it’d gone unnoticed.
“I still remember the look on your face when you opened that birthday box to find a tie.” The sound of his chuckle stretched into memories that used to ground her. Maybe still did.
Dad slapped his thigh. “You looked as lost as a ball in high weeds, thinking I’d mixed up yours and Chase’s birthdays or something.”
“Well!” She couldn’t help joining in his laughter, but it didn’t take long for it to wane behind a pang of gravity that never fully relented. “It was a sweet gift, Dad.” Her fingers skimmed down the blue and silver thatching. “I’m sorry you never got your answer, though.”
“Who said I didn’t?”
Quinn turned only to find a look of certainty overtaking his gray eyes. Her heart tanked. Was his mind still trapped in the past? She fiddled with the sash on her sundress. “Dad, Brian and I aren’t together anymore.”
He huffed. “Good riddance too.”
Her head flung up. “What?”
“If you didn’t break off that engagement, I was gonna have to step in.”
“But . . .” If she blinked enough times, maybe the movement would oil her jaw somehow. “You were so happy when we were together.”
“Oh, I tried to pretend to be for your sake.” Dad moseyed closer to the center of the room while his words still felt miles away. He studied her the way he always had when interpreting her expressions. “You were happy, sweetheart. What father would want to take that away from you?” He stroked the whiskers on his chin. “But it’s hard for us dads, having to watch our little girls learn from their own mistakes.”
The room might as well have slanted. “I can’t believe . . . I mean, how’d you know . . . ?
Fatherly intuition smiled from eyes that were as clear and lucid as they ever were. He rested a strong, weathered hand to her shoulder. “You may think that prayer went unanswered, but I just saw this past week that it hasn’t.”
His insinuation cranked a vise around her heart, crushing what was left inside her. She couldn’t take bringing him any more disappointment.
“Cooper and I . . . it wasn’t real.”
“Horse manure.”
She flinched at his tone. “Dad.”
“Well, I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t tell me you don’t love that boy.”
The truth swelled in her throat. “It doesn’t matter. He’s already gone. It’s too late.”
A stern eye of discipline met her dejected stare. “Just ’cause things get hard doesn’t mean you run away. Not this time.”
The consequences of her mistakes echoed throughout a room too small to avoid them. Quinn’s legs found the edge of the bed, and she caved onto the mattress. “I’m so sorry for leaving like I did. It was wrong.” She lifted watery eyes toward him. “I thought I was doing what was best for everyone. But the truth is, I was scared, selfish.”
“Same as the rest of us.” A grace-filled smile led him beside her on the bed. “Why do you think we all need prayers?”
Nothing but genuine faith and forgiveness looked back at her. She shook her head. “How do you do it? How do you cling to your faith when God keeps overlooking you?” An avalanche of brokenness tore through the whispered words.
“Overlooks me?” His wrinkled brow scrunched in genuine confusion. “If He showered me with any more love, it’d be coming out my ears.”
“How can you say that?” Her shoulders slumped at how much his disease had robbed his mind. A mix of anger and sorrow clogged her voice. “Do you know how many times I prayed for Him to heal you? To heal us both?” Her hand covered her stomach on its own, the hurt still so raw.
“I know things don’t always work out the way we pictured they would, but I reckon that’s probably a good thing.”
“How can anything good come from sickness and pain? Who does that help?” No one. Couldn’t he see that?
“Oh, I think it’s helped more people than you think.” His gaze found the faded black and white photo of his and Mom’s wedding day still pinned on a bulletin board above her desk. “It’s helped an old married couple remember that their vows to love each other through anything are as real now as they were the day they promised them. It’s helped a nurse find strength to follow a calling most people would’ve given up on.”
Voice soft and vulnerable, he leaned the side of his head against hers. “And just maybe it’s helped a headstrong girl learn to surrender her vision of the life she expected for a life she couldn’t even imagine.”
Just when Quinn was sure her tears had run dry, the streams carving down her cheeks proved her wrong. “Do we have to go through all this pain to get there?”
“In this life? I reckon so.” Dad squeezed her to his side. “Finding the blessings in between? Well, now, that’s our choice.”
She wrapped her arms around him, hanging on to the rare moment of having him fully present the way she wished he could stay. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Not as much as I love you—with or without a husband. And with or without some big job promotion.”
She leaned back. “How did you—?” Eyeing his smile, she waved it off. “Never mind.” She’d given up trying to figure out how her parents always knew everything she thought she’d been hiding from them.
“C’mon, now.” He rose and helped her to her feet. “I hear there’s an excited birthday girl waiting for the band to start.”
“Band?”
As though clairvoyantly summoned, Ginny whirled around the corner into the bedroom. “There you are! I can’t believe you actually got Driveshaft to come?”
Okay, she was definitely missing something. “I didn’t. I—” But Ginny already had her swinging into the hall and out the back door with only enough time to slip on her shoes.
Sure enough, the band they couldn’t afford to pay was busy setting up on a wooden stage alongside the barn. Not for the first time today, her jaw came unhinged.
Chase strolled up beside her with his eyes almost as impressed as Ginny’s. “Cooper’s an all right guy, isn’t he?”
Cooper? Comprehension bottomed out in her stomach and almost set off her tear ducts all over again. He’d paid for them, hadn’t he?
“Yeah, he is.” The kind of guy who, despite everything, came through for people he cared about, even when they didn’t do the same. The kind of guy she never should’ve let walk away.
Cooper kissed Brayden’s head and laid him in his crib. Eyes still closed, Brayden curled into his jungle blanket with his red cheek bearing the mark of having fallen asleep on Cooper’s chest.
“I’m sorry I ran out the other night, buddy,” he whispered. “I won’t leave again without saying goodbye.” He brushed a gentle touch through Brayden’s soft hair. “Promise.” His throat closed, no more words getting through.
Knowing Ti, she’d take hundreds of pictures of him to send to Cooper. When he got old enough, they’d likely tell him Cooper was his real dad. Would he understand? Resent him? He swallowed hard and turned. He couldn’t think about that now.
With Brayden napping and the girls out grocery shopping, Cooper sank onto the floor against the couch and got back to work on the party favors Quinn had left behind. He glanced at the clock. If he hustled, he could get Ti to bring them over to the party before it ended.
The basket of miniature candies almost laughed at him. So, maybe finishing them in time was wishful thinking, but he had to try. Quinn would be fit to be tied when she realized she’d forgotten them here. Not that he could blame her for rushing out that night when that’s exactly what he’d done too.
But after riding for three hours, he’d cooled off enough to come home. Given that she’d completely dropped off the radar, she obviously hadn’t done the same. Then again, maybe she had. Her parents’ place was more of a home than this place had evidently been to her.
The ache of everything that’d happened stung as sharply now as it had the night her boss had shown up.
He tossed the favor into the basket. What was he even still doing here?
“If you bust out a hot glue gun next,” Drew said from the kitchen doorway, “I’m gonna have to take a step of intervention.”
Cooper chucked a ball of twine at him. “Can’t be any worse than stringing shells on necklaces, hoss.”
“Hey, that was all Ti’s idea.” Drew dropped onto the couch with a mug of green tea and threw the string back at him. “So,” he said, the word dangling with insinuation. “You ready to admit you love her yet?”
Cooper pulled a piece of twine in a knot so tight, it almost snapped in half. “Don’t start.”
“You’re the one sitting here playing with tulle. I’m pretty sure you already started it.”
He clenched the ball of string. “She lied to me, Drew.” Worse than any other persistent journalist, she’d swept in here, getting him to fall for the enemy just so she could exploit him. What didn’t Drew get about that?
“And you didn’t lie to her?” A pointed look drove Drew to the edge of the cushion. “It’s hard to be straight with someone when you’re not being honest with yourself.”
Just what he needed. A counseling session from his all-knowing brother. He rubbed his temples and tried to tune him out.
“C’mon, Coop. You came back. You’re finishing her party favors for her. Get a clue, will ya?”
He jerked up to his feet. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving tomorrow, remember?”
“No one says you have to.”
In a turn, Cooper kicked the basket away from him. “I have plans.”
“More like fears.”
He swung back around, jaw clinched. “Drop it, Drew.”
“Come off it already.” Drew pushed up from the couch. “This whole Indonesia idea, the cross-country trip, wanting me to adopt Brayden. Why don’t you man up and admit this is about some stupid notion that you’ve let Dad down?”
Cooper stormed into Drew’s face. “I’m warning you. Let it go.”
“The way you let it go when I pushed Ti away?” Memories from last summer poured from the gaze he wouldn’t release Cooper from.
Chest still heaving, he backed up. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not you?”
“Obviously as many times as I need to remind you it doesn’t matter.” Drew turned him around by the arm. “What’s your obsession with this, man? Are you that peeved that Dad left the shop for me instead of you?”
Cooper yanked his arm free. “I never wanted that shop.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“I don’t know, all right?” With his fingers clenched in the back of his hair, he paced until the last night he’d had with Dad kept him from moving forward like it had these last six years. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be here longer. I didn’t get to prove . . .”
“Prove what?”
“That I could live up to who he wished I was.” Instead, the last thing his dad saw was a self-absorbed dreamer, leaving in anger. The broken confession practically begged for hope that was as absent as Dad was. “I can’t fail Brayden too.”
“Is that what you think? That you failed Dad?” Slow strides brought Drew toward him. “I was the one disappointed in you the night you left for Hatteras, not him. I thought you were being irresponsible, still acting like a kid who needed to grow up.”
Drew ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “But you know what Dad thought? He said you’d already grown into the man he believed in. That it was just a matter of you figuring it out yourself.”
Cooper’s chest tightened as Drew grasped his shoulder.
“I’m not coping.”
“The heck you aren’t. You’re so blinded by regret, chasing after what you think Dad wanted for you, that you can’t even see that what he really wants is standing right on your doorstep.”
Drew nodded slowly and then popped Cooper in the arm. “So, do me a favor and take your own advice, huh? Stop trying to be someone you’re not. Just ’cause we’re different doesn’t mean I’m the only one who deserves to start over.”
Succumbing to a smile, Cooper faced the ceiling. “Spoken like Dad.”
“Yeah, well, I seem to remember you reminding me you have some of him in you too.” Drew gave his shoulder another solid squeeze. “That includes being a father. You don’t have to be perfect, man. Just present.” He returned to the couch and the green tea he’d left on the end table.
“And Coop?” He picked up a manila envelope from the table and approached him again. “Don’t be afraid to live up to who Dad saw in you.” He handed him the envelope. “Someone already believes you have.”
With a final nod of assurance, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Cooper with a dozen things he wasn’t ready to confront.
The envelope weighed in his hand like a fifty-pound dumbbell instead of a few sheets of paper. Unable to open it, he strode out to the deck and dropped it on the patio table next to the folder with the contracts he’d brought out here earlier but couldn’t bring himself to sign yet.
A surprisingly cool breeze rolled off the lake with a reminder of how forgiving the weather could be from one day to the next. Unlike himself.
His body folded into the nearest chair. Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head to his hands as moments with Quinn washed in on waves that’d pulled him under from the beginning.
Something furry brushed up against his calf. Trooper. The cat jumped into his lap without an invitation and walked her paws up his chest till her wet nose grazed his chin. Cooper rubbed her head in a futile attempt to coax her down. “Now you decide to show up, huh?”
The cat flexed her front paws back and forth on his thigh while purring against his stomach. He took one look at her sawed-off whiskers and had to laugh, picturing the way she’d won Quinn over. If he were half the man he wanted to be, he would’ve done the same.
The wrinkled envelope nearly glowed with the confirmation that it was time to man up. With a deep breath, he pulled out the article before he could change his mind.
His eyes hovered over the last sentence. He read it once. Again. Still one more time until the sound of Quinn’s voice coalesced with the memory of Dad’s.
But of all the things getting to know Cooper Anderson has taught me, none has changed my life more than this: We’ll never find where we belong until we’re willing to admit we’re lost.
The papers fell to the table, his hand back to the cat who’d been able to see the only thing that had made this place home.
All this time, it hadn’t really been about his need to open the boat shop. It was about his need to run away—from the doubts of not being a good enough father and the fear of embracing a family capable of leaving him undone.
But running meant missing out on what Dad had always taught them was worth the risk.
He rose from the chair. Maybe it was too late for that second chance Drew thought was in his cards. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, he’d never know unless he did the very thing he’d asked Quinn to do all along.
Leap.