Chapter Thirteen

Quinn

Fate must be playing a trick on me.

I sit on the toilet as I pause to catch the breath I lost running all the way home from Eli's house with a confused and reluctant Clive in tow. My eyes stare at the back of the locked bathroom door.

Even now, I can still see that black raven in front of me, smack in the middle of ripped pectoral muscles. And I remember it all too well.

It's the same tattoo that guy in the executioner costume had at that Halloween party ten years ago. That guy who got me pregnant.

Clive's father.

Eli is Clive's father?

I grip my hair in disbelief. I mean, what are the chances? For years, I wondered who Clive's father was. I even tried to search online for pictures of men with raven tattoos on their chests in hopes that I would find the exact one I'd seen and be able to track him down. I failed. And little by little, I gave up hope. And now Eli comes here to this corner of the valley. And for the first time in a long time, I feel attracted to someone from the male species. He offers me sex and I take it, no strings attached, only to find out that the strings have long been wound around both of us.

And Eli doesn't even know. He has no clue. Maybe it crossed his mind last Halloween, but he doesn't know.

I do. I found out first. And it's cruel, because now I have to be the one to decide what to do.

What do I do? Tell Eli? Tell Clive? Tell everyone? What if Eli doesn't believe me? Or what if he does and he asks for custody of Clive? And what if Clive goes with him? They get along, and Eli can give him the things he wants, the things he needs. What if Eli tells me to marry him? And what if he doesn't want to? We still barely know each other. What if Clive ends up hating me after finding out the truth behind his birth? And what if Marianne hates me, too?

I shake my head. I can't think. My thoughts are running a hundred miles an hour in my messed-up mind. My emotions are spilling out. My heart is threatening to leap out of my chest, which seems to be shrinking with every second. I can't breathe.

"Quinn?" I hear my mother's voice from the other side of the door as she knocks. "Quinn, are you alright? Clive seems upset, and you, well, you didn't seem yourself. What happened?"

I don't answer. I don't know what to tell her. I'm not ready yet.

"Quinn?"

I don't want her to worry, though, so I open the door. "Sorry, Mom. I just... need to sort something out."

"Did you and Eli have another fight?"

"No."

But she doesn't look like she believes me. "Come here."

She pulls me into her arms. For a moment, I don't move, still struggling to keep everything under control, still trying to think. Then something inside me snaps. My sobs of frustration break free. My tears soak her shirt.

As she's done many times before, my mother presses me close to her. She plants her lips on top of my head as she strokes my hair.

And I just go on crying like a baby.

~

By evening, my eyes are still red but the tears have run out and dried up. I don't eat dinner, though. I'm too exhausted, so I just fall asleep.

In the morning, my eyes feel better but I don't. I can still feel a heavy burden on my shoulders. My mind feels like a house after a storm, with everything scattered and wet and covered in mud. And I still don't know how to fix it.

Clive appears in front of me. He still looks angry.

"Why aren't you dressed? We're going to the Strauss farm, remember?"

"No, we're not." I lift my mug of coffee to my lips. The warmth provides little comfort. "And I forbid you from going there alone."

He pouts. "What do you mean? Did Mr. Strauss fire you?"

"No. But I'm not feeling well."

"You look fine. You slept a lot."

I set down my mug. "Clive, please just listen to me for once. I'm not feeling well today."

"Then why can't I go?"

My fingers tighten around the handle of my mug. God, I don't have the energy to deal with this today.

"Because I said so. And I'm your mother. I'm still your mother even if you're nine years old and you think you're smarter than me."

"That's - "

I shake my head. "I don't need this right now, Clive. Just go back to your room. Please?"

He stays. "You're unfair."

Oh, shit. He hates me already.

"Well, life is unfair. Life is fucking unfair, so you have to learn to deal with it."

Now I've done it. I can see the resentment burning in his eyes. I have to do something fast.

I draw a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Clive. I'm just - "

"You're always like this. You never think of how I feel."

"I always think of you." I get on my feet and put my hands on the table. "You may be smart, young man, but don't you dare think you know what I'm going through."

"What does it have to do with me?"

"Everything!" I shout.

Clive falls silent, but the resentment remains in his eyes. It stabs my already stinging heart.

Finally, he marches off to his room. I sit down and bury my face in my hands.

Now I feel even worse.

~

The next day, I'm not feeling any better so I stay at home again. Eli comes to see me.

I don't really want to see him yet. I'm not yet ready. But I can't send him away. Not when my mom was the one who let him in. Not when I can feel Steven watching with his fists ready.

I bring Eli to the back of the house. I'd bring him to the shed for more privacy, but that building brings back memories that I'd rather not remember right now.

"Are you alright?" Eli asks as he sits on the bench beside me. "Your mother said you're not feeling well."

I nod. It's true, anyway. Maybe I'm not sick, but I don't feel well at all.

"Did you get Marianne's flu?"

"I don't think so."

"She's worried about you, you know. She's looking for you."

I say nothing.

"This morning, she had a tantrum because I wouldn't bring her here to see you. I said I'd see you first."

Still nothing.

"You are coming back to teach her, aren't you?"

I shrug. I don't know. I don't know anymore.

"Listen."

Eli moves closer. I move away.

He sighs. "Listen, Quinn, I don't really understand what you're going through right now, but Marianne needs you. You've really done a great job with her..."

"I didn't do anything." I shake my head. "She was a good girl from the start. She just needs attention, care."

"And you gave her that. You're not just her teacher. You're her friend. I think she even thinks of you as a mo - "

"Don't say that," I cut him off. "Just don't."

Eli nods. "What I'm saying is that Marianne wants you to keep teaching her, and I'd like that, too. I'll even pay you double."

"I don't do it for the money, Eli. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. You do it for your love of children. So please, for the sake of that love, keep on teaching Marianne." He pauses. "If you come back, I promise I won't ever try to seduce you again or lay a finger on you. I'll keep things strictly professional between us."

That last part takes me by surprise. Maybe because it's not what I want to hear.

Strictly professional, huh? Well, the sex wasn't meant to be anything more than sex, after all, just two adults trying to relieve each other's pent-up sexual frustrations. Still, why do I feel hurt?

"Please?" Eli begs.

I look into his eyes and see only sincerity.

But if I go back, then it means pretending nothing happened between us. It means pretending I never saw the tattoo on his chest.

Can I do that?

"For Marianne's sake."

Her blue-eyed face appears in my mind and something in my chest stirs. Guilt? Both she and Clive are innocent, and yet they're both suffering because I can't figure out what I must do.

I'm pathetic.

"Fine. I'll go back and continue teaching her."

Eli smiles. "Thank you. That's all I ask."

But what about me? What do I want to ask of him?

~

"What's going on between you and Mr. Strauss?" Janice asks me when I go back to the house.

I hear the worry in her voice.

"And don't tell me you're not avoiding him, because you are. And he seems to be avoiding you, too. So something must have happened."

I say nothing as I stroke the rim of my cup of coffee with my fingertips. I don't know what to say to her, either.

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "I know we haven't known each other long, Quinn, and I work for Mr. Strauss, but I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."

I shake my head as I pull my hand away and stare at my coffee. "I... don't know, Janice. I'm sorry."

She sighs. "So you're confused, huh?"

I don't answer.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me anything right now. I won't force you. And I'm not going to try and guess what's going on between you and Mr. Strauss. But let me just say this as a general piece of advice. Most things will work out if we only give them a chance."

I throw her a puzzled look. "What's with that?"

"What I'm trying to say is let's not say something isn't going to work out before we actually give it a try."

I fall silent again. What Janice is saying makes sense, actually.

"But you already know that, right? Actually, when I first met you, I thought you were the kind of person who was willing to try things, who wasn't afraid of anything. Remember how you lured Marianne out of her hole? How you spoke up to Mr. Strauss?"

I nod. A faint smile forms on my lips.

Janice is right. I was that kind of person. Stubborn and reckless. Leaping before I looked. Not going down without a fight. Am I still?

"You just have to be your usual self, Quinn. Be true to yourself and everything will be fine."

I look at Janice. None of what she's told me is new. I've heard it all before. It's nothing profound. And yet, she makes sense. She's right.

What am I doing? If I'm a mess, I just have to pick myself up. If I'm lost, I have to get myself back. I can't undo the past. I can't un-see what I saw. But I can do something about it.

The Quinn I know would.

And if I try, I can still be her.

"Thanks, Janice." I reach for her hand this time. "Have I told you you're the first friend I've had in ages?"

She grins. "You're mine, too. So do you feel better? Less confused?"

"A bit. I know I'm thinking too much, and that isn't me."

Janice chuckles. "No, that's not you."

I frown. Does she have to agree so quickly?

I squeeze her hand. "And you're right. I have to stop being someone who isn't me."

~

"I'm sorry, Clive," I whisper into the darkness as I stroke Clive's hair as he lies in bed. "I haven't been myself lately."

He's already asleep, it seems. He doesn't stir. Still, I stroke his dark brown hair.

I've always wondered if maybe his father had dark hair because his hair isn't fiery red like mine. Now I know. I know why his hair and his eyes are darker than mine. I know where he got his asthma. Maybe even his IQ.

Maybe he is more like his father.

I still don't know what I'm supposed to do about this recent discovery. I'm still unsure of what steps to take, still scared of what explosions I might set off. But I'm not going to run away anymore. I'm not going to get anything done by wondering about what could happen. I'm going to move forward one step at a time and see what happens. I'm going to face this head on.

I plant a kiss on the top of my son's head. "I'm sure everything will work out."