Thorns of Decision (Dusk Gate Chronicles) (6 page)

“So when you said might …”

“Unless something changes, he’ll be back in a month.”

Under any other circumstances, this would have been fantastic news. She loved her adopted father, and Owen and Annie missed him like crazy. Having him gone had been really difficult for her mom, too. After already losing Quinn’s dad, it really upset her to have Jeff so far away, especially when she worried he might be in danger, even though he assured her all the time that he was only a civilian contractor and he was safe.

At this exact moment, though, the idea of him returning felt like adding another big log onto an already blazing fire. What was
he
going to think about all of this stuff with her? Surely it wouldn’t be quite as easy for her to slip off and visit Eirentheos when he and her mom were
both
around on the weekends.
That
was a startling thought – surely she didn’t intend on actually going back again, after the way it had already completely complicated her life – did she? But then thinking of
never
going back …
no
, she couldn’t say she wasn’t going to.

She wondered what Jeff knew about her connection to Nathaniel – if he knew that her father and Nathaniel had been friends. She wondered if her mom had told Jeff what Quinn had done this last weekend.

“What were you going to tell me?” Zander asked, interrupting her reverie.

“Um …” she took a deep breath, trying to regain her train of thought, and then started telling him what she’d learned at work that night.

“Whoa,” he said when she’d finished. “And neither your mom or Dr. Rose told you that he was friends with your dad?”

“No.”

“That’s weird. It doesn’t make sense that she would just cut him out like that. Your mom has lots of friends.”

Quinn nodded. “I don’t understand it.”

Zander was silent for several minutes, staring out through the windshield. “You don’t suppose something went on sometime between your mom and Dr. Rose, do you?”

Her eyes widened at the implication in his voice. “What do you mean? Like something romantic?”

“Yeah. That would explain some of it, wouldn’t it? Why they don’t talk to each other now? If they were together before, and then they broke up?”

“He was my dad’s best friend!”

“I don’t mean while your dad was still alive, Quinn. At least, I don’t think your mom would do something like that. But what if, after he was already gone …”

Her heart pounded at the suggestion. “Do you think she would do that?”

“I don’t know. Dr. Rose is a nice guy. If he was your dad’s best friend, she would have already known him. Why wouldn’t she go out with a guy who already liked her kid?”

“And then they broke up.” The theory made sense.

“Why would she keep him as a doctor for us for all of these years then?”

“That’d be obvious and mean, wouldn’t it? Everyone in Bristlecone who doesn’t go to Doctor Rose has to drive half an hour away, and he’s better than that clinic in Pinespar, anyway. They’ve all had to go there when Dr. Rose’s office is closed.”

“Yeah … it’s just hard to imagine my mom and Nathaniel …”

“You’re on a first-name basis with him now?”

Uh-oh
. She suddenly had complete sympathy for why William had never gotten to know anyone in Bristlecone well enough to have a real conversation with them. It was almost impossible not to let something accidentally slip out. She knew she needed to take evasive action before this conversation started drifting somewhere she couldn’t let it go. “Not really,” she said, though she could feel her neck turning a vibrant shade of red. “That’s just what Mrs. Williams was calling him.” Then she yawned widely. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re always welcome, Quinn.”

This time she leaned over to initiate the kiss.

*          *          *

Inside the house, Quinn turned off the few lights that her mother had left on, leaving just the tiny one in the entryway burning – they didn’t like the house to ever be completely dark – and made her way upstairs to her room. Sitting down on her bed, she reached for the framed picture on her nightstand. It was a picture of her father, young and smiling, hoisting Quinn into the air. In the picture she looked beyond delighted, and her father’s expression matched her own, his gray eyes twinkling, crinkled in laughter.

She wished she could remember it – remember him.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she slid her finger down his face in the picture. She was so deep in thought that she almost didn’t hear the soft knock on her bedroom door. A second later, the knob turned, and her seven-year-old brother, Owen, stepped inside.

Wiping her cheek with her sleeve, she smiled at him. “Hey, buddy. What are you still doing up?”

“I was waiting for you to get home.”

 “I’m glad you did. Want to come sit up here with me?”

Owen nodded and climbed up on the bed next to her, tucking his legs up under himself. Quinn had to smile at how sweet he looked, decked out in footie pajamas covered with train engines – one of his obsessions.

He studied her face as he sat beside her, though his eyes never quite met hers. “Are you okay?” he asked.

 “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, wondering which of the two of them she was trying to convince. “How are you? Was school good today?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but Mommy still seems mad. Why is she so mad at you, Quinn?”

She sighed. There was only one second grade class in Bristlecone, and her mom was the teacher. Owen would have spent all day with her. “I really don’t know.”

“Is it because of where you went?”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. “What do you mean, Owen?”

Owen frowned. “You left this weekend. You went to – that other place. Is that why Mom is mad at you?”

Quinn’s hands started trembling; she hid them in her lap. She swallowed, trying to figure out how to ask what she wanted to know without scaring him. “Yeah, I think that’s why she’s mad at me.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “You came back, though. She doesn’t need to be mad now.”

“Owen,” she tried to keep her voice steady, “how do you know about where I went?”

His expression turned confused, for a long moment he studied her in a way that suggested she was missing something obvious. Then his expression changed again; he looked like he’d figured something out.

“I was dreaming,” he said, so softly that if she hadn’t been sitting right next to him, leaned close and straining to hear, she wouldn’t have understood him.

A heavy, ominous feeling weighed in her gut.
Dreams.
She’d always had strange dreams herself, ever since she was little. She’d never paid close attention. Not until she’d been in Eirentheos, and the dreams had taken on a much more serious quality, driving her desperation to get to Thomas. Now she wondered just how important dreams might be.

“What did you dream, Owen?” This time she couldn’t keep the shaking out of her voice, but Owen, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice. Most of the time, the social challenges that Owen faced because of his mild autism made communicating with him more difficult. But, sometimes, it made things easier that he didn’t pick up on subtle things, like how frightened she was right now.

He scrunched up his face, deep in thought, staring at the green flowers on her bedspread, rather than making eye contact. “I don’t know exactly where you were, Quinn, but you were smiling. It made you happy to be there, except one time you were scared.” He glanced up at her now.

She nodded. “And then what?”

His eyes fell to the blanket again. “I don’t know. Then I wasn’t there with you anymore. I was here, and Mommy was sad, because you were going to stay there and not come home.”

Quinn scooted closer to him, close enough that he was almost in her lap. “I came home,” she said.

“I know.” He nodded. “So I don’t know why Mommy is mad now.”

“I don’t know either, buddy.”

He laid his head back against her chest, and she pulled him into her lap, holding him there, breathing in the sweet scent of his freshly-washed hair. “I’m just glad you’re not mad at me, Owen. I don’t know what I’d do right now if I didn’t have you.”

“You’ll always have me, Quinn.”

The house was empty again when Quinn woke up on Tuesday morning, even though she was out of bed earlier than she had been the day before. Her hopes that she’d be able to sleep through the night again now that she was home and Thomas was safe had been dashed sometime around one in the morning when she’d awoken from a bizarre, vivid dream.

The only thing she could remember about it was being in a field of enormous dandelions that towered over her head, much larger than the weeds could ever actually be. It scared her, after what Owen had told her last night, and she strained, trying to recall more of it, but she couldn’t.

She poured herself a bowl of cereal in the still-dark kitchen, wondering how long her mother planned to keep this up.

As she carried her breakfast over to the tall island in the middle of the room, something shiny on the end of the counter caught her eye. Her keys were lying there, on top of a handwritten note.

I’ve decided there’s really no reason you can’t have your keys.

We’re eating dinner over at Maggie’s tonight, so you won’t

need to pick up Annie.

And so it was going to continue. Quinn wouldn’t be able to eat at the Cunninghams’ with her mom and siblings because she had to work. And, in any case, there was certainly no way she could have the confrontation she needed to have with her mother in front of Zander’s entire family.

For a few minutes she entertained a mini-temper tantrum, almost deciding to
not
drive the car just to prove a point, but she managed to pull herself together enough to realize she’d get the worst end of that choice. Besides, now she could get to school early – and alone. She texted Zander with the news, letting him know that he didn’t need to pick her up this morning. Wolfing down her cereal, she made quickly for the garage, hoping William, too, would be at school early like he usually was.

Fortunately, she wasn’t disappointed. Although her footsteps echoed along the empty corridors, William was standing in front of his locker, wearing his familiar purple sweater. Even though she’d known she was looking for him, she was still surprised at the relief she felt when he turned and smiled at her. It was strangely like taking the first breath after being underwater for a long time.

“Hey,” he said. “I was hoping I’d get to talk to you this morning.”

“Me too. How’s Thomas?”

“He’s doing pretty well. Nathaniel was able to get surgery scheduled for him yesterday afternoon in Grand Junction. He had to call in some favors to manage it, but he made it happen. I was hoping to tell you before I left yesterday, but we never really got the chance to talk, and I left early so I could go with them.”

“And he’s …”

“He’s fine. The repair Nathaniel and Lily were able to do kept his leg in pretty good shape. After the surgery yesterday, he should be up and around on crutches in a couple of weeks, and have full use back in a few months. He’d probably be on crutches sooner, actually, if he didn’t have the broken arm and ribs.”