Blackberry Cove

by Roxanne Snopek

  Quinn had just been a kid at the time. She understood why Abby wanted to protect her. And Carly was generous and kind, like Abby. Neither one of them wanted to pit quiet little Quinn against the monster Richard Arondi.

  Only, she wasn’t quiet little Quinn anymore. She was tougher and smarter now.

  Okay, so maybe the booze wasn’t smart. It made her feel brave and strong but it didn’t last. And this swirly feeling sucked, big time. She hadn’t been interested in that cowboy and was kind of glad that Jon had shown up when he did.

  But was it any worse than what had happened to Carly? No. She deserved to be punished, for hiding out here while Carly and those other girls lived with what Arondi did to them.

  She sat up, then quickly changed her mind.

  She was going to puke eventually, and she hated that.

  But then she was going back to Los Angeles. She was going to find Carly and they were going to go to a police officer and make him or her listen.

  Then she could stop running.

  * * *

  On the day of Quinn’s party, the table on the deck was laden with the usual summer fare: salads of every kind, cold meat, fried chicken, pickles, buns, cheese, fruit and vegetable platters. All the staff were here, plus significant others, kids, dogs, and their current guests.

  It was like a huge family gathering, or what Abby guessed such an event would be like.

  Quinn looked a little overwhelmed at being the center of attention, but Abby could tell she was soaking it in.

  Roman rallied enough to join them. In fact, he’d vehemently refused to be left out. News of his condition was common knowledge now. Jamie had driven out to see him as soon as she found out, tore a strip off him, and then fell into his arms, weeping.

  Roman said he’d been quite entertained by the spectacle.

  He was in a wheelchair now, for safety’s sake. He could still walk around his own home but navigating elsewhere exhausted him. A portable oxygen tank rolled with him now, too. The poor dog kept having his feet run over, but it didn’t deter him. If anything, Chaos stayed closer than ever to Roman’s side, as if aware on some level that his time was drawing near.

  Haylee and Sage were with him now, letting him hold the babies. He was making macabre faces but seemed to be enjoying it. He seemed to be enjoying everything now, though Abby sensed an air of desperation about him. He touched people more, clutching at hands, patting and stroking.

  He wanted to hold on, to not be alone, left behind while the world kept moving.

  Grief, sweet-sharp like the Jonagold apples, hit her and she looked away, breathing deeply.

  Roman vowed that if she cried, he’d leave. Today was about Quinn and he refused to get in the way of her celebration.

  She hoped it gave Quinn what she needed. The drinking last weekend had terrified her. What she’d said to Jon terrified her even more. He was a smart guy. He would soon put two and two together and then what? Quinn would be in Richard Arondi’s crosshairs.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  A whoop of approval went up and Abby looked toward the sliding door, where Daphne appeared, holding an enormous layered sheet cake. Someone struck up a round of “Happy Birthday,” the candles were lit and blown out. Slices were cut and handed around.

  Quinn came up to Abby and grabbed her hand, grinning. “This is the biggest party I’ve ever had. I’m now an adult, officially, legally.”

  Abby hugged her. “You’ll always be my kid sister.”

  “But you can’t boss me around anymore. You’re free and so am I.” Quinn wrinkled her nose, flipped her hair over her shoulder, kissed Abby’s cheek, and went to accept more good wishes.

  We’ve always been free, she wanted to say. Please stay, Quinn.

  Another turning point, another fork in the road.

  “Cake?” said a voice at her elbow. It was Jon, carrying two plates.

  Abby accepted one. They moved to the porch railing and stood at it, looking out over the yard. It was easier than looking at each other, though she was viscerally aware of Jon’s proximity. It was as if her skin was tuned to his frequency. All the little hairs on her arms lifted in his direction when he was near.

  She thought she’d feel lighter once Jon knew about Roman’s illness, once she was no longer carrying that secret, but instead, a new awkwardness had set in. The kind of emotional rawness they’d witnessed in each other didn’t translate to ordinary social interactions.

  “Quinn’s having a good time,” Jon said. He sounded hesitant, too.

  “She is. Looks like your dad is enjoying himself, too.”

  Silence descended. Sweet chocolate frosting coated the back of her throat and she set her plate aside, half eaten.

  “Poor Chaos,” Jon said. She followed his gaze. Little Matthew was tugging on his ear while Sal was attempting to climb on his back.

  “He’d leave if it really bothered him.”

  “He’s a good dog.” Jon swallowed and she heard his throat click. “He’ll be lost without Dad.”

  Abby couldn’t speak. She’d grown to love the big, goofy dog and would miss him dreadfully. She hoped Jon would keep him, though she couldn’t imagine Chaos enjoying life in the city, after all the freedom he’d enjoyed here. Maybe Jon would bring him back to visit.

  Although Jon hadn’t said he was going back, he hadn’t said he wasn’t, either, and she refused to ask. She also refused to take his declaration of love seriously. He was grieving. He deserved some slack.

  The sound of a spoon clinking against glass caught their attention.

  Quinn was standing on a chair.

  Abby blinked in surprise. A speech? That wasn’t like her sister.

  “Hi, everybody. Thank you for the party. This is awesome.” She cleared her throat. “I have something to say and I wanted to say it in front of you all, because it’s important. My big sister, Abby, as you know, has been kind of a mom to me, too. She’s done a lot for me, sacrificed a lot so we could stay together.”

  Abby pressed her fingertips against her lips. She felt Jon move closer and put his hand around her waist.

  “I haven’t made things easy for Abby.” Quinn looked down. “But she’s always protected me, no matter what, even when I didn’t want her to.”

  She lifted her head then, smiled at Jon, and met Abby’s eyes. “Thank you, Abby. For everything.”

  A cheer went up then and everyone clinked glasses.

  “I’m not done!” Quinn yelled, waving her arms. Laughter sounded. “Abby, I want you to know that you don’t have to protect me anymore. I can handle myself. I’m twenty-one. It’s time I did the right thing.”

  A block of ice formed in the pit of Abby’s stomach. No, she thought.

  Quinn bit her lip, then shrugged. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m done. Now you can clap.”

  “That was cryptic,” Jon said. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  “Oh, God,” Abby said, faintly. She gripped Jon’s hand.

  “Abby? Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. She whirled around, speaking low and fast. “Promise me, Jon, that if she comes to you about the Arondi story, that you won’t let her do something stupid.”

  He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She pulled him away from the crowd, in the direction of her cabin. She had a feeling Quinn would be following soon and she had a lot to tell Jon, first.

  * * *

  She pulled him inside the small cabin, closed the door, and stood with her back against it, breathing hard. The soft swell of her breasts rose and fell above the neckline of her yellow sundress.

  “I think I know what Quinn wants to do,” she began. “She knows you’re writing about Arondi.”

  A sick feeling came over him. Not this. Anything but this.

  “Abby.” He pulled her toward the couch and pushed her gently onto it. “What happened? Who’s Carly? Is she Carly Cassidy?”

  “You know her?”

 
Jon nodded. “Quinn is Person X, isn’t she?”

  She pressed her face into her hands. “It was never supposed to come out.”

  “What does she know? What happened?”

  “At first, I wasn’t sure. One day she came home from the set saying she wanted to quit. She wouldn’t say why, just that she hated the whole scene. She was angry and sometimes I heard her crying in her room at night.”

  Jon knew. Quinn had witnessed her friend being assaulted. No wonder she was freaked and acting out.

  “She just said she was sick of everyone, sick of Los Angeles, sick of being broke and alone. I knew the rumors. Arondi was a total creep. But I couldn’t believe that something like that had happened to her. And she promised me she wasn’t hurt, just scared. But she wasn’t just scared. She was angry, too. It was too much.”

  He stroked her back. She was cold and shaking.

  “Finally, Carly contacted me. She . . . told me what happened. No details, but I didn’t need her to draw me a picture. I was sick about it, Jon. My sister’s testimony could have—maybe—been used to nail Arondi. But he could also have turned it around on her, ruined her life. He’d done it before. A lot of people listened to him.”

  “I know.” Excitement simmered in him, though he tried to keep it in. Abby was terrified for her sister. But this could be the thing that would finally turn the tide against Arondi.

  It wasn’t the story, he told himself. It was about justice.

  “That’s when I decided we needed to get out of the city,” Abby continued. “We bounced around a bit after that. She got into some trouble. It was . . . it got a little scary for a while. I thought . . . I thought I might lose her.”

  She twisted her arm, showing Jon her wrist. A semicolon, tattooed on smooth skin, a match to the one that covered the thin, slicing scars on Quinn’s forearm.

  “I figured,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Then I heard about the ranch. It saved us.”

  Abby had gone to great lengths to keep her sister safe.

  “And she never talked to you about the incident with Carly herself?”

  Abby shook her head. “Pressing her about it only upset her, so I stopped asking. She promised me over and over that she hadn’t been hurt, just that she’d seen things she wasn’t comfortable with and didn’t want to be there anymore.”

  Jon hated what he was about to do. “Abby, I’ve talked with six women while building my story on Arondi. All aspiring actors who’d auditioned for parts in his productions. All young, pretty, and desperate. They all tell similar stories, but in every case, it’s her word against his. They know that he controls Hollywood and he can ruin them if he wants. There’s never been a witness. Until now.”

  The color leached from Abby’s face as she listened. “You can’t ask her to do this. Do you know what he does to people? You said it yourself: he destroys them. I won’t let that happen to her. Oh, Jon.” She buried her face in her hands. “What was I thinking, getting her involved in that world? I should have known better.”

  His heart ached. He understood completely how she felt.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t ask Quinn to do this.”

  “I won’t,” he said. He swallowed. “But if she wants to do this, Abby, you can’t stop her. You can’t protect her anymore. You have to let her make her own choices.”

  Abby lifted her head. “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

  He couldn’t deny it. “I want to write this story, Abby. With Quinn’s help, we can bring him to justice. We can right a terrible wrong for many women.”

  “And resurrect your career in the meantime.”

  “It’s not about that anymore, Abby. I don’t care about Diversion. I don’t want to go back to Hollywood. I love it here, with Dad.” He hesitated. “With you.”

  She got up. “I’m tired, Jon. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. You and Quinn both. It doesn’t matter what I say.”

  “What about us, Abby?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Let’s face it, Jon. There never was much chance for us. I’m a bad bargain with too much baggage.”

  “You still think I’ll disappear on you, the way your mom did. You think I’ll break your heart.”

  “Jon,” she said. “You’ve already broken my heart.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  From Abby’s notebook:

  Prune spring-flowering shrubs after blossoms fade. Next year’s blooms depend on the cuts you make now.

  Abandonment issues were such a cliché, thought Abby. Couldn’t she come up with a more interesting reason for breaking up with Jon?

  “Why aren’t you angry?” she said to him. “Why can’t you see that I’m too broken, too damaged to have a normal relationship?”

  “You think that you need to end things now, while it’s still easy, so neither of us gets hurt, is that it?”

  “Come on, Jon. The statistics don’t lie. Happily ever after is barely batting fifty percent. For people like us, like me,” she corrected, “it’s a losing proposition. I do care about you, though. And that’s why I’m doing this. So you can move on to someone better. So you can have a future.”

  Jon was always looking to the future. Planning a season in advance was a big step for Abby. There hadn’t been much point, before. Keeping Quinn safe and happy had been her only goal. It had taken all her time and energy to make that happen.

  “Quinn’s just an excuse,” Jon said. “You don’t know how to handle what’s happening between us. Your sister has her own goals. She’s an adult now. She’s making good choices mostly. She’s looking after herself. She wants to go to school. She wants a life of her own. She’s setting you free, Abs, and you don’t know how to handle that.”

  She yanked away from Jon’s grip, hating the truth of his words.

  She’d done a damn fine job. And now it was over.

  Since she was a kid, forever it seemed, Abby had been pedaling madly to keep ahead of the slavering jaws snapping at their heels. Suddenly the beast was gone and she was coasting on a road without a map, or brakes or armor for when she crashed.

  The imagery displeased her. Quinn wasn’t a beast. Caring for her hadn’t been a burden. She loved her sister. She was the oldest, so the responsibility fell to her to keep things together.

  “What did you tell me? You put on your big girl panties and did the hard work because you had no choice.” Jon’s voice was kind, his touch gentle. “You had to be the adult because there was nobody else to do it. You took over the role of mother, Abby, but Quinn’s not your child. She’s your sister. If you don’t let her go, let her make her own decision about this, you’ll lose her. And if you don’t find a life of your own, you’ll end up resenting her.”

  Yes, she loved Quinn.

  But now she allowed herself to remember other times. When she hadn’t been able to go to her own prom because Mom was gone and there was no money for a sitter, so Abby had to stay home. When Quinn whined and argued and pestered her until she thought she’d lose her mind. When she spent precious grocery money on ice cream and cake only to have Quinn get sick in the night because she’d eaten too much.

  When she wanted to hang out with friends, or accept the movie invitation from that cute guy at the coffee shop but she couldn’t because what nineteen-year-old brings her kid sister along on date night?

  And the guilt. Oh, the guilt had been overwhelming. Every time she’d heard Quinn crying into her pillow at night, it was a twist of the knife.

  So, she’d quit being resentful. She’d become an adult, done what was necessary.

  “We were okay,” she said softly. “I did my best and we were okay. We are okay.”

  “You did an amazing job,” Jon said. “I can’t believe you got through what you did. But surviving is different from thriving. You’ve got the chance to be better than okay now, Abby. You’re done raising Quinn. You’ve got friends. You have people who”—he hesitated—“people who
love you. If you’ll let them. We have a good thing, Abby. Why can’t you believe it could work between us? Why can’t you let yourself be happy?”

  He made it sound so easy.

  * * *

  At her request, Jon drove Quinn to L.A. Also at Quinn’s request, Abby remained at the ranch, her eyes empty, her arms folded over her chest, fear written in every line of her body. He knew it must feel like betrayal to Abby, but he also knew that getting this out into the open was the only chance he had at moving forward with Abby. He had to take the risk.

  He and Quinn met with Carly. The girls told their story, over and over. They answered Jon’s questions, they talked to investigators, lawyers, other women who’d been harassed and assaulted.

  Finally, Jon had everything he needed for his exposé.

  He didn’t care.

  He couldn’t get back to Oregon fast enough, to his father. To Abby.

  Roman was holding his own, but as the summer flowers faded and the grasses went from green to gold, he stayed in the house more, spent more time in his wheelchair for fear of falling.

  Time was running out quickly for him.

  “What do you need, Dad?” Jon asked, over and over. “What can I get you? What do you want to do?”

  The haunted look in Roman’s eyes broke his heart. It was so hard, watching someone fade away, being able to do nothing.

  “Son, everything I need is right here. I’ve got you. I’ve got a good dog. I’ve got fresh air, sunshine, flowers, and a pretty girl comes around from time to time to flirt with me. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”

  Jon didn’t know how much more he could bear.

  Eventually, Roman could no longer keep anything but fluids down, and a mere cup a day at that. But he was on enough medication to manage his pain, without making him sleepy and confused.

  “I’m going out exactly as I wanted to, Jon,” Roman said. Chaos lay on a quilted blanket at his side. The dog, normally so energetic, had taken to lying as close as possible to his master, no matter where they were. Roman rarely asked anything of Chaos but the dog seemed to understand how much his presence was valued. He left Roman’s side only to eat or drink, or answer the call of nature, but always did so quickly, eager to return to his post.