Chapter Ten

Eli

"Your daughter is going to be fine, Mr. Strauss," the woman who introduced herself earlier as "Dr. Susan Dawson, the pediatrician on duty", assures me with a wide smile after examining the printouts on her desk.

"Are you sure, Doctor?"

She nods. "Marianne has a fever, but that's all. It's probably just the flu."

"Probably?"

"It isn't unusual at this time of year when the air is beginning to get chilly," she says. "And not unusual at all with kids."

"But you're sure that's all there is?" I ask again. I have to make sure.

She looks at the sheet of paper on her desk. "All the results of her tests are normal, Mr. Strauss, so this is just a virus. It will pass. She just needs to rest, drink plenty of fluids and take the medicine I've prescribed."

She hands me a smaller sheet of paper.

I glance at it. "So there's nothing wrong with her heart or anything?"

Dr. Dawson shakes her head as she sits back. "Her heart seems perfectly fine to me. But upon your insistence, we did that ECG test and had our cardiologist, Dr. Howard, look at it. He didn't see any problems either."

I nod. "I see."

Thank goodness.

"If I may ask, Mr. Strauss, why are you so concerned about Marianne's heart? Do you have a heart condition? Does it run in the family?"

"Her mother..." is all I manage to say.

She nods. "I see. Well, she clearly has no congenital heart defects. Those would have been discovered by now. And right now, her heart is as healthy as it can be, so I don't think there's any reason for you to worry."

I say nothing. I don't know what to say.

I know I had a right to worry about my daughter's health, but at the same time, right now, I feel like a fool, especially after how I acted this morning.

"Is this the first time she's been sick?" Dr. Dawson asks.

I nod. "I think so."

Julie would have called me if she got sick when she was still in her care. Or would she have?

"And her vaccinations are all in order?"

"I think so."

Julie gave me a bunch of papers and I think I saw something like that. I gave them to Janice so she would know.

"Well, then, you can rest easy, Mr. Strauss." Dr. Dawson gives me another smile. "Of course, as a parent, it is inevitable to worry about one's children. Even though I'm a pediatrician, I still panic when my own child gets sick."

"You do?"

"We worry because we care about them. There's nothing wrong with that. But we do have to hide it a bit so we don't worry them, too. They already feel rotten when they're not feeling well. We need to smile for them, just as they do for us when we don't feel too good."

"I understand."

I think I do. I can worry about Marianne, but I shouldn't make her worry in the process or it will just lead to... well, more worries.

"Thank you, Dr. Dawson." I stand up and reach across the table to shake her hand.

"You're welcome, Mr. Strauss."

I leave her office and go back to Marianne's room. Janice is standing outside the door.

"Well?" she asks me.

"Marianne's fine," I tell her. "We can go back home."

Janice places a hand on her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. Well, she does seem like she's better already."

I glance inside the room and understand what she's saying. Marianne is sitting up on the bed, mumbling to herself as she plays with her dolls. It's a good thing Beth remembered to bring them.

Thank goodness, indeed.

"She probably just had too much fun yesterday," Janice remarks. "And too much chocolate."

None of which was Quinn's fault. Now I feel bad.

I sigh. "I owe her an apology, don't I?"

"Who?"

"Quinn."

"Probably." Janice nods. "I'd get her flowers if I were you. She looked so upset earlier."

Yes, she did.

"Technically, the party wasn't even her idea. It was Marianne's, wasn't it? And you can't get sick from a party. That's..."

Janice falls silent as I glance in her direction. She scratches her neck and gives a sheepish grin. "Yes, an apology would be the best course of action, sir."

"Marianne still needs to rest, so I'll book a hotel," I say. "You and Beth stay with her. I need go back and give Quinn an update."

"And apologize."

I give her another glance. She looks away.

"Yes, that, too."

It seems I've behaved badly. Again.

Who knows if she'll forgive me this time?

I turn to Janice as another question comes to mind. "Where does Quinn live again?"

~

I follow Janice's directions and find the Hardy farm just a few minutes away from where I'm staying.

I find a man in the front yard, too, among what look like rows of carrots. A heavily built-man with his pants covered in dirt and his shirt in sweat. The red hair that covers his head all the way down to his shoulders and coats his jawline makes me wonder if he's related to Quinn. He's too young to be Quinn's father, so maybe her brother? Cousin?

I realize I don't know all that much about Quinn.

Finally, the man notices my presence. He lifts his head and turns. His eyes immediately narrow beneath bushy eyebrows.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he barks.

I step forward. "I'm Elijah Strauss. I - "

"Our farm isn't for sale," he cuts me off.

What?

"I - "

"You look like some big shot from the city and there's only one reason they come here, so I'm telling you now, our farm isn't for sale."

Oh. I guess there are a number of people who are interested in buying land, and although it's relatively small, the Hardys look like they're sitting on a fine piece of property.

"You're mistaken," I tell him as I take another step forward. "I'm not here to buy your farm."

"Oh, so you're not some big shot from the city?"

"Well..."

Technically, I am. I'm the CEO of my own company, which is based in New York, and I've got billions worth of stocks in my name, but I don't know if I should tell him that.

"I'm a businessman and I'm new around here, but - "

"You have no business here. Go home."

He turns back to his crops. I remain where I stand.

"This is the Hardy farm, isn't it?"

He turns back to me with an annoyed expression. I know exactly what he's thinking. I'm a pest and I should get lost. But I'm not leaving until I've done what I've decided to do.

"This isn't for sale," he repeats.

"You already told me that. I don't care."

"What?"

That might not have come out right. "I mean I don't care whether or not it's for sale because - "

"Are you a friend of Fuller's? Because I've heard that crap from him before."

Fuller? Who's Fuller?

"I don't care about the property because I'm not - "

"Oh, you don't care, do you?" He snorts. "But you want to buy it anyway. Well, I care. It's my home. So scoot unless you want me to throw you out. You are trespassing, you know."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm guessing the stubborn streak runs in the Hardy family."

"What did you say?" He walks towards me with nostrils flaring like a bull about to go on a rampage.

And apparently, the temper.

I hold my chin high. "Man, listen when someone's talking, will you? I said I'm not here to buy - "

"I'm done talking," he cuts me off again as he prepares to hurl his fist.

Here it comes.

"Eli?" Quinn appears right on time.

Just in the nick of time.

The other man's fist hangs frozen in mid-air. His head turns towards the house.

"You know this guy?"

Quinn walks towards us. "Yes. He's Elijah Strauss, the new owner of the Carmichael property and the father of the girl I'm teaching."

The man's fist falls. "Oh."

"Eli, this is my brother, Steven," Quinn introduces.

Finally, a name.

She nudges his shoulder. "What were you doing? You looked like you were about to punch him."

Steven rubs the back of his head. "Well, I thought he was one of Fuller's friends or some pesky buyer, so..."

Quinn lets out a deep sigh. "Sorry. My brother acts before he thinks sometimes."

"Hey!" Steven complains.

Not like his sister, I suppose.

"But he's not as bad as he looks," Quinn says.

Steven snorts and rubs his fist. "If you hurt Quinn, I'll be the worst guy you'll ever meet."

I have no doubt about that.

Quinn gives him another nudge. "What are you saying? Didn't you hear a word I said? Eli is the father of the child I'm teaching. We're not dating or anything."

"I just don't trust rich guys," Steven mutters.

"You don't trust anyone," Quinn points out.

She shoves her brother towards the house. "Go inside and get a bath. You stink."

Steven snorts but leaves. Not without casting a warning glance in my direction first, though.

"Your brother's... tough," I say after he's gone.

"That he is," Quinn agrees. "He's our rock."

"And he's always been protective of you?"

A breeze blows some strands of her hair against her face and she tucks them back behind her ear. "Not as protective as Chase."

"Chase?"

"I have three brothers."

I nod. "I see. No wonder..." I stop.

"No wonder what?"

"Nothing."

Quinn frowns. "So, what brings you here? Is Marianne alright?"

I tuck my hands inside my pockets. "She's fine, just like you said she'd be. She just has a mild case of the flu and needs to rest."

"That's good."

"So I owe you an apology," I tell her.

Her eyes grow wide.

"Well, even if she wasn't fine, I would still owe you an apology because it's not your fault." I touch my neck. "I'm sorry I snapped this morning. I just panicked, I guess. She's never been sick before, and well, I was afraid for a moment that she would end up getting sickly like... like..."

"Her mother," Quinn supplies. "Mrs. Shaw used to say her health was delicate and that being in the countryside was good for her."

I nod. "I just got scared. Even so, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's fine. I know how it feels to be scared. To worry about a sick child. In fact, nothing's scarier than that. Did I tell you Clive has asthma?"

"In the attic, I think you mentioned it. Not to me, but..."

"Well, he suffers from attacks every now and then and they're scary as hell. I don't even know why. No one in the family has asthma."

"I had it when I was a kid," I confess. "I remember how nasty the attacks were."

"What happened?"

"I outgrew it, I think."

"Oh. That's good."

"Maybe Clive will outgrow it, too."

Quinn shrugs. "Maybe. At any rate, I'm glad Marianne's fine. And that you came to tell me about it. It's all good."

It feels as if a boulder has been removed from my chest.

"Quinn?" A middle aged woman calls from behind her. She smiles at me. "Who's this?"

"Mr. Strauss," Quinn informs her. "He's the new owner of the Carmichael property, Mom."

Mom? Well, they do look alike.

"Well, what are you doing out here? Invite him in."

I wave my hands in front of me. "It's fine, Mrs. Hardy. I - "

"Oh, come on in." She gestures towards the house. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose."

"You're not imposing. I'm inviting." She grins.

It looks like she doesn't take no for an answer, either.

"Now, you know where we Hardys get our obstinacy," Quinn says.

I chuckle as I walk with her towards the house.

I turn to her mother with a smile. "Dinner sounds great, Mrs. Hardy."

~

And it is. The stew is mostly vegetables, but it tastes good and the pie for dessert deserves a place on the menu of a cafe.

It's not just the food, though. I've never eaten with such warm people before. They may be tough, but the Hardys are warm, too. They're honest. They're real. There's something reassuring about that. I can tell Quinn has a great family.

After dinner, Clive invites me upstairs so I follow him. I didn't know he shared a bedroom with his mother, though, and so the moment I step inside the room, I regret it. I try not to look at Quinn's things as I sit on Clive's bed.

I pat the mattress. "This is a nice bed you've got here."

"Nah. It's too small, just like this room. I like the rooms better at your house."

He hands me a pile of comic books and I go through them.

"Is this your collection?"

Clive nods as he sits on his mother's bed.

"Cool. I used to have comic books, too, when I was your age."

"Really?" I can hear the wonder in his voice.

"And I used to like superheroes, too."

"Did you want to be one?" Clive asks.

"I guess."

"What kind of powers did you want to have?"

"Flight, I guess. And maybe super strength. Maybe invisibility, too, and health regeneration."

Clive chuckles. "That's overpowered."

I shrug. "What about you?"

"I want to see the future and maybe read minds, maybe even control them."

"Ah, you're one of those mental superheroes. Cool."

He smiles.

"Something tells me you don't need superpowers, though." I pat his head and ruffle his hair. "You're very smart, aren't you?"

He shrugs. "I don't go to school, so I don't know."

"Because you don't have grades?"

"Well, my mom gives me grades, but..."

"Grades are just numbers." I point a finger to my head. "What's in your brain can't be measured."

"I know." He grabs a pillow and hugs it.

I smile. "See. You're smarter than you - "

I stop as my eyes fall on the bed, right on the spot where the pillow used to be. Or to be more accurate, on the pink device sitting in that spot. Is that what I think it is?

Clive sees it, too. His eyes flicker with curiosity. "What's this - ?"

I grab it before he does. "It's nothing. You shouldn't - "

I stop talking as the door opens. Quinn stands in the doorway, and the smile on her face vanishes as her eyes dart towards the 'device' I have in my hand.

Fuck.