Quinn's Deirdre (16 page)

“Ye’re not trying to run me away, are
ye?”

“If she’s not, lad, I am,” Desmond said.
“If ye want dinner early this afternoon, let her be and go on.
 
Go watch the telly or I’ll put
ye
to work.
 
Ye may
not be trained in the kitchen, but I’m thinkin’ ye can scrub pots like the rest
of us.”

“I’ll make me escape then.” Quinn cupped
his hand beneath Deirdre’s chin and turned her so he could kiss her
properly.
 
“If ye need me, love, call me
down.”

“I will.”

After he left, Neal and the children in
tow, she, Eileen, and Desmond worked.
 
Their easy camaraderie lifted her spirits and the enticing aromas
wafting from the ovens awakened her appetite.
 
She hadn’t thought she would anticipate the meal so much but Deirdre
did.
 

The warm kitchen served as a haven for
the moment, the work of her hands provided a distraction from her worries.
 
As she performed routine tasks, the diamonds
sparkled on her ring, an ever present reminder of Quinn’s love and their
commitment.

Chapter Ten

The remains of the feast littered the
three tables in the front dining room that they’d pushed together for the
meal.
 
Little remained of the goose save
bones, but there would be enough turkey and ham for leftovers.
 
Nuala, Deirdre’s youngest, slept on a pallet
of pillows and blankets Quinn had brought down, a thumb square in her
mouth.
 
Sorcha and Brendan attempted to
play Old Maid with an ancient deck
Demond
produced
but both yawned.
 
The adults remained at
the table, talking and complimenting the food although the conversation had
gone from a flow to a trickle.
 

Desmond rose and began gathering up the
food and after a moment, Eileen stacked the dirty dishes onto a kitchen cart.
 
After a glance from his wife, Neal collected
the older children and headed upstairs to the flat.
 
Moments later, Des and his niece rolled the
leavings out to the kitchen.
 
Deirdre
picked up the discarded paper napkins and other trash,
then
searched for a wastebasket.
 
She opened
her mouth to ask Quinn where one might be found,
then
stopped short.

Quinn stared straight ahead, his eyes
fixed on a framed ad for Harp Lager.
 
He
said nothing when the others cleared out and from the way he sat, hunched
forward, Deirdre wondered if he had noticed everyone else had gone.
 
He hadn’t spoken much during the latter part
of the meal, she realized and although at first he’d eaten with gusto, he
hadn’t taken seconds
or
had more than a single slice
of pie.
 
His dour expression radiated
misery.
 
“Quinn?”

He blinked as if she’d awakened him.
“Aye, love?”

“Is something wrong? You’re awfully
quiet.”

When he raised his head to gaze in her
direction, she noticed the worry line dividing his forehead and the tight set
of his lips. “I’ve a bad feeling,” he said.

“Did you eat too much?” she asked. Maybe
he had and his belly was riled.

“Ah, no,
acushla,
though ‘twas all quite tasty.” His flat tone set off alarm
bells within her.

In motherly fashion, Deirdre laid her
hand across his forehead but it was warm, not fever hot. “Are you coming down
with something? I know there’s some crud that’s
been
 
making
the rounds.”

“No, I’m not sick and I feel well
enough. It’s more of the spirit than body.”

Concern knifed her chest. “What’s the
matter, Quinn? You’re scaring me.”

Her voice roused him a bit more from his
distracted reverie.
 
“Ye don’t know, do
ye?” he
asked,
his voice more normal than before. “It
doesn’t happen to me often, but when it does, I’ve never known it to be wrong.”

“Quinn, I have no clue what you’re
talking about.”
 
She didn’t but maybe she
had an idea, one she didn’t want to explore.

“Sit down with me a moment and I’ll tell
ye
.
 
Ye know
I’ve told ye me mother has the sight, that she’s fey?”

Deirdre remembered and nodded. “You
did.”

“My gift is nothing like hers.
 
She has these intuitions often enough, both
small and large.
 
But on occasion, I have
a bad feeling and when I do, it’s never good.”

The more he tried to explained, the more
worried she became. “Do you mean you have a premonition?”

Quick as a flash, his lips curved upward
for a moment in a smile which failed to form. “Aye, that’s it.
 
It’s only happened to me a few times.
 
The first ‘twas when I was
but nine and my grandfather died.
 
And when our Da passed.
 
I had it terrible
bad
 
then
. The year before I came to the
States, I was in a bad car smash—”

“I never knew that!”

“Well, it’s not the kind of thing I like
to remember or tell,” he said. “I broke my leg and busted my head.
 
Ma thought I’d die for the first two days,
but I didn’t. I had the same bad feeling then as now.
 
And the same again when my brother Declan
near drowned in the lough.
 
Each time,
something terrible came to pass.
 
It’s
odd, though, or I thought it ‘twas before.
 
When you never came back from the mall three years ago and then I
thought
ye
dead, I never had the feeling.
 
I suppose now it’s because ye weren’t truly
dead, thank God and all the saints.
 
It
bothered me, though, in a
way, that
I didn’t.
 
I thought, then, maybe I’d lost the knack of
it and was glad. But, no, now ‘tis back and it worries me fierce.”

The anxiety she had shed returned and
slammed into her consciousness with full force.
 
If Quinn’s sixth sense was working enough overtime to make him so
concerned, she figured she had reason enough to be frightened.
 
“What do you think will happen?” she
asked.
 

His taut shoulders shrugged. “I’ve no
idea,
mo chroide
and ‘tis what scares
me most.”

“Do you think the man I saw will come
after me or report to someone who wants payback?”

Quinn hesitated for a long moment. “I
don’t know.
 
It might be that or something
else altogether.
 
My sister and her
family have a long journey home, I know.
 
I’ve long had a horror of plane crashes or it might be something with
Des.
 
Or I could suffer some awful mishap.
 
It’s the not knowing that’s the worst.”

Deirdre’s imagination, always vivid,
conjured up horrific images to match each thing he speculated and more.
 
Mental images of burning airplanes falling
from stormy skies
,
 
serious
kitchen mishaps, Quinn lying broken and bloody in the
wreckage of his vehicle rushed through her mind.
 
She could think of a dozen more scenarios,
several of which involved her and the hard faced man who’d threatened her
before.
 
A sudden chill seized
her,
harsh enough she shivered with it.
 
Death haunted her thoughts, white-faced and
skeletal.
 
“What can we do?”

“Naught but wait,” Quinn said. “Are ye
cold? Ye’re shaking.”

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“Ye believe me, then?”

She nodded. “I do, Quinn.
 
I don’t have much experience with things like
this, but I can see the truth of it in your eyes. It’s genuine and you’re
scared, too.”

“Bloody right, I am.” He came to his
feet and thrust the chair behind him with enough force it toppled.
 
Quinn enveloped her in his embrace and
Deirdre rested her head against his chest. “Something will happen, I’m sure of
it but whether or not it will be the worst, I don’t know.”

“Is it always something bad?”

He heaved a huge sigh. “It always has
been, love, but I’ll do my best to keep
ye
safe, ye
know that.”

“I do but I want you safe too and all of
us.” Her words marked the first time she’d lumped herself together with his
family but once spoken, Deirdre realized it was so.

“Don’t say a word about this to my
sister,” Quinn warned. “She’ll worry herself into
a frenzy
if ye do.
 
I wouldn’t mention it to Uncle
Desmond either, unless he should ask, which I doubt. He’s a man who knows well
when to keep his mouth closed.”

Deirdre raised her head and gazed into
his ravaged face. “I won’t but don’t you think they’ll notice? You look like
hell, Quinn.”

Something between a snort and a dry
laugh came from his mouth. “Do I? I wouldn’t mind a bit of a nap, but the
flat’s full with the kiddies and all.”

“I’m sure Des would let you use his
room.”

Quinn shook his head. “He might but no,
I’d rather not.
 
I’m desperate for a bit
of fresh air to clear my head.
 
Want to
go for a ride?”

A change of scene appealed but she
hesitated. “Is it safe?”

“Jaysus, woman, I don’t know what is and
is not.”

“We could take my car.”

He frowned. “We’d have to get it from
the parking garage and I’d rather not.
 
I
don’t like
them
places.
 
In the films, it’s where the baddies wait to
shoot the victims.”

Point taken.
“Then
let’s go, but I’ll need my purse and coat.”

“Fetch my jacket and keys,
then
would you? I’ll stop in the kitchen and say a word to
Des that we’re goin’ out.”

Despite the cold rain falling from a
gray sky, Quinn headed for the outlying 435 loop and once there, he increased
speed until they hurtled along and he exceeded the speed limit.

“Quinn, slow down,” Deirdre shrieked.
“What are you doing?”

“Blowing away the
cobwebs from me mind!”

“
I
 
call
it taking reckless chances.
 
Slow down before you kill us or get a
ticket.”

“Ah, woman, hush.
 
Whatever will happen won’t be today or I’d
feel it in my bones. Enjoy the ride, eh?”

Once, she’d taken risks and loved
it.
 
Then she watched an execution and
lost her zeal for danger.
 
In Arkansas,
Deirdre had opted for the safe thing and security.
 
Now, however, she wasn’t the same woman but a
hybrid of all the
Deirdres
from before.
 
She trusted Quinn so she struggled to settle
her nerves.
 
He handled the car well and
after the first few white knuckled moments, she tasted the excitement.
 
It rushed through her veins, potent as a drug
and she whooped aloud with a wild delight.
 

Deirdre scooted over until she sat as
close to Quinn as possible, her left hand resting on his thigh.
 
They traveled twenty miles,
then
looped back.
 
By
then, the light rain had become sleet.
 
Quinn brought his speed down with a sigh. “’Tis no need to be totally
do-
lally
,” he said as he took the next exit. “It’s
gettin’ the wee bit slick and we’d best head for home.
 
Des will fret if he realizes it’s
sleetin
’.”

He sounded more upbeat so she asked, “Do
you still have the bad feeling?”

Quinn took her hand in his as he rolled
to a stop at a traffic signal.
 
“Aye,
mo chroide,
I do.
 
It won’t go away, not till whatever happens
is done, but the fast ride took my mind from it for a bit.”

“I’m glad but I wish you didn’t have,
uh, whatever it is.”

His grin surfaced for a moment. “Ah,
it’s the black Celt in me, I’m sure.
 
Let’s go home, love.
 
I’m in need
of a drink.”

Deirdre noticed the absence of sound
when they entered the rear of the pub. So did Quinn.
 
“It’s too quiet,” he said.
 
Without waiting for her, he stalked ahead,
leaving her to trail through the empty kitchen. Fear clutched at her heart with
claws as Quinn bellowed, “Uncle
Des,
are ye here,
man?”