“That’s true. I think people took her death very personally. I know I did.”
She tilted her head. “Personally?”
“I don’t know if you knew …” He bit his lower lip and groaned softly. “This gets complicated. And maybe it’s not even … relevant.”
“No. Please go on.” He had her curious now.
“I don’t mean it to take the focus off of your mom … of what you lost. But I don’t know if you knew that my brother had cancer.”
She shook her head, scrambling to remember if Dad had ever mentioned this. “No, I don’t think I knew that. Is he okay?”
“Markus is a cancer survivor. Over twenty-five years now. He was nineteen when he was first diagnosed. Melanoma. But it had already spread to the lymph nodes. The survival rates were pretty dismal. But he beat the odds. And after three years, the cancer was gone. Completely gone. The doctors flat-out called it a miracle, and my parents attributed it to the prayers of hundreds of people. I was a teenager at the time, but it was maybe the first glimpse I got of how … personal God is.”
“Wow. I didn’t know any of that, Quinn. That’s amazing! And wonderful.”
“It is. Except, it gets a little complicated. First, Markus doesn’t acknowledge God’s work in his life. I think he believes in a God, but he doesn’t live like he believes. He’s pretty caught up in material things. In being the boss of his own life. There’s been some … tough stuff between us. Not just because of that. I’ll just leave it at that.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. He’d made her curious, but it seemed clear he didn’t want to elaborate.
“I’m sorry too.” He frowned. “But when your mom died, it just made me angry that God would heal a man who pretty much turned around and threw it back in His face. And then refuse to heal a wonderful Christian woman like your mom. Where’s the fairness in that?”
“I don’t know.” Her mind reeled at his revelation. But mostly at the fact that Quinn had been so deeply affected by her mom’s death. It touched her in a way she didn’t quite understand. But a thought came to her, and she risked voicing it. “Maybe God knew Markus needed time … to come to faith in Christ. My mom had lived out her faith for years. She was closer to God than anyone I know. And hard as it is to not have her with us, we know where she is. And that we’ll see her again.” Just speaking those words brought healing—a much-needed reminder of a truth that had somehow gotten lost in her grief.
He thought for a moment. “I guess I never thought of it that way. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
The turnoff for the property was just ahead. They rode in silence while Quinn navigated the narrow lane, seeming to ponder what she’d said. The porch light had been turned on, but only one dim light shone from the back of the house.
“Looks like the girls went to bed.” She frowned. “We were going to celebrate by lighting a fire our first night.”
“Do you have wood? I could help you get a fire going.”
“We do, but I don’t want to wake them up. And they’d be pretty unhappy with me if I made our first fire without them. Although, I guess it would serve them right since they left me to deal with Melvin.” She turned in her seat and craned her neck, trying to look into the back.
“He’s been awfully quiet. You sure he’s okay?”
“He’s fine. He never likes to be put in the carrier, but he usually settles down once he’s in there. Dad used to take him for drives without a carrier. Melvin loves that.”
Quinn put the SUV in Park but left the engine running. He angled his body, propping his right arm on the armrest. “I feel like I hijacked your conversation earlier. I didn’t mean to cut you off or change the subject. You were talking about your mom … and everything you’ve found out.”
“No, I’m glad you told me about your brother. And I think I said everything I wanted to about Mom. I’m just not sure what to do with the things I know now.” And the things she hadn’t told him … couldn’t tell him.
“What do you mean? Why do you have to do anything with it? Besides just absorb it?” He winced. “I didn’t mean that to sound as callous as it came out.”
“No. It’s okay. It’s a fair question. It just makes me wonder what else I don’t know about her. And now she’s not here to answer my questions.”
“I would guess that every parent in the history of the world has a few secrets their kids don’t know. And never will know.” He cocked his head. “Granted, this is a pretty big one, but it really doesn’t change anything about who your mom was. To you. Myra’s—your mother’s— faith was strong, and it stayed strong to the end from what your dad and you have said. That’s all that’s really important. I sure wouldn’t want anyone to judge me by the mistakes I made when I was younger … not that I don’t still make plenty.”
She nodded. “No, you’re right. But … she carried a lie to the grave with her, Quinn.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to call that a lie. An omission, maybe. But—”
“She never did tell me and my sisters the truth.”
“But she didn’t actually tell you a lie either, right?” His words were gentle and comforting.
But she could only shrug in reply.
He sat silent for a long minute, then held up a hand. “Not meaning to put salt in a wound, but just asking … Do you think you’ll tell your kids everything about your life before they came along?”
“Um, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any kids.”
He made a face at her. “You know what I mean. Your future kids.”
“Well, it’s not as if I have a secret marriage to hide from them, if that’s what you mean.”
“Not yet, you don’t.”
“Haha.” She didn’t appreciate his efforts to humor her out of her funk.
“I’m not saying you have any big secrets, but … I guess what I mean is, do you really think parents owe their children all the details of their lives before said children were even born?”
She hadn’t thought about it that way. She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I think the really big stuff … yes. I don’t think secrets like that should be kept from your kids.”
“Um, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any kids.” He grinned.
“Haha, very funny.”
“Unless you count Hazel … I mean Mabel. That’s my dog.”
She tried to keep a straight face. “You are just a barrel of laughs.” It irked her that his ploy to get her in a better mood was working.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. But in all seriousness, your mom’s secret really didn’t have anything to do with you. It was before she met your dad. And she told him. That’s what’s important.”
“I suppose.” She reached for the door handle. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you play counselor.”
“You mean on top of moving man and cab driver? Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll send you a big fat bill.”
She cringed, but his grin wouldn’t let her feel guilty. She returned his smile, grateful for some levity to end the evening with. She opened her passenger-side door and the dome light flickered, casting a yellow glow across his face. In the light, he looked younger and even more handsome than she’d noticed before. She wondered, not for the first time, why Quinn had never married. Or maybe he had and was keeping his own secrets. The thought turned her smile wry.
“What was that for?”
She tilted her head. “What was what for?”
“That look? That little smirk, like you’re zinging me in your mind. And now I don’t even have a chance to come up with a clever comeback.”
She laughed. “Exactly. I always get the last word that way.”
“No fair. One could even say you’re keeping secrets.” He winced, as if he was afraid he’d crossed a line with that comment.
“You’re not my kid, so apples to oranges, in case you were trying to make a point.”
“Point taken.” Grinning, he
opened his door. “I’ll help you with Melvin’s stuff.”
“Ka-ching, ka-ching. That’s the sound of my bill racking up, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“That’s exactly what it sounded like.” He bobbed his chin. “Good sound.”
Rolling her eyes, but a little charmed too, she went around to retrieve Melvin from the back of the vehicle.
Chapter 19
It was almost ten when Quinn got home from delivering Melvin. He collected three days’ worth of mail from the box at the end of his drive. Maybe if he ever got anything exciting, he’d remember to check the box more often.
He unlocked his front door, and the smell of fresh paint and tile adhesive greeted him. Almost as good as a pot of stew simmering on the stove. Almost. Mabel galloped from the back bedroom to meet him. He squeezed through the unframed doorway with the mutt jumping for joy even as she sidestepped toward the mudroom where her food dish was.
Stepping over a pile of baseboard and trim that still needed to be installed, he dropped the mail on the kitchen counter and went to the mudroom to scoop dog food. He was halfway back to the kitchen when his phone buzzed from his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID. T. Chandler.
Interesting. Except for a couple of brief business email exchanges, he hadn’t talked to Turner for over a week—which was rather unusual. Before Turner had left for Florida, they’d talked on a daily basis, even when Turner was working in the Langhorne office. It had actually crossed Quinn’s mind that his boss might be on his honeymoon. Until Phylicia had told him tonight that her dad and that woman had broken things off.
He quickly shrugged out of his jacket and pressed Accept. “Hey, there. How are things in the Sunshine State?”
“Sunny. At least it was a few hours ago. I hope I’m not calling too late. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. I just came from your daughters’ place, actually.”
“Is that so? Which daughter?”
“Oh, no,” he corrected quickly. “I meant daughters, plural. The cottages.”
“Oh? How are things going out there?”
“Good. They got the beds moved in tonight, so this will be their first night to sleep there. They have it looking really nice.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Phylicia and I took Melvin out there just a little bit ago.”
“How’s ol’ Melvin doing?”
“I’m not much of a cat person, but it seems like he’s doing okay. I didn’t hang around to see how he took to the new house, but he handled the car ride out there okay.”
“He was strange like that. Never did mind riding in the car, as long he wasn’t caged. Stupid cat. Myra was crazy about him.”
“Well, I know he’ll be well taken care of out there. I think the girls were going to let him have a go at the smaller cabins as soon as he settles in. We saw a mouse in one of them the first time they looked at the place, so they were anxious to put Melvin to work.” He smiled to himself at the memory.
Turner chuckled. “Oh, I bet that caused a ruckus.”
“And then some.”
Turner laughed harder at that, but still not the familiar belly laugh that had always characterized the man. He’d changed. Quinn understood Phylicia’s sadness a little better, realizing how different Turner had been since Myra’s death … and even before that, when she’d been so ill.
Quinn wondered if his boss was struggling with his faith. The whole community had prayed for the Chandlers after they revealed Myra’s grave diagnosis. And they’d been outspoken about their faith in God’s goodness—whether He chose to heal Myra or not. But maybe the reality was different now that Myra was gone. Shoot, like he’d told Phylicia, he had questions about why God would take a woman like her at such a young age. It stood to reason Myra’s husband and daughters would have even tougher questions.
“Listen, Quinn, this is kind of short notice.” Turner cleared his throat loudly. “But I wonder if I could ask a favor.”
“Sure.”
“You know our … my open house is tomorrow. I wondered if you might just stop by there for a few minutes, see how things are going. I know the girls won’t want to be there, and I don’t expect them to. They’ve done enough getting the house ready to show.”
“It looks really nice too. I went in with Phylicia when we went to get Melvin earlier. Your daughters have everything looking really sharp.”
“That’s good to hear. This is hard for them, all three of them … selling the house they grew up in.”
“I’m sure. And I’d be glad to drop by and check on things. It’s two to five, right?”
“I’m not even sure. I can find the listing and shoot you a—”
“No, I can look it up. No biggie. You have it listed with the best realty company in town, and it’s a good house.”
Mabel trotted out to the kitchen, her face dripping from a dunk in the water bowl. Quinn wiped the dog’s chin with his bare hand, then dried his hand on Mabel’s brindle coat. He silently motioned the dog toward her blanket draped over the sagging sofa in the living room. She went obediently. “I’m honestly a little surprised your place hasn’t sold yet.”
“Yes, I am too.” Turner paused. “I was hoping to get that all over with before now. Kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid, you know?”
Quinn winced at the apt analogy and paced between the kitchen and the adjoining living room. “I can see that. Hopefully it isn’t too painful. For all of you.”
“I think this property the girls bought will help take their minds off things. Do you … get the sense they’re doing okay?”
He hesitated. “I do. They’re still grieving, of course. It’s only been a few weeks. They—”
“Three months. It’s been three months, Quinn.”
Quinn hadn’t meant his words to come off as an accusation—well, maybe he had—but Turner was on the defensive. Quinn scrambled for something to smooth things over but came up blank. “They miss you a lot … your daughters. Any idea when you’ll be back here next?”
“Not for sure. And the girls have each other. That gives me a lot of peace. Which reminds me, I’ve been hearing your name quite a bit when I talk to my girls. One in particular.”
He was a little surprised to hear that. He assumed Turner meant Phylicia and wanted to press for details.
But before he could think of a nonchalant way to inquire, Turner blurted, “Did Phee tell you about finding the ring?”
“Yes. Well, she told me a little.”
“I guess I always figured the time would come when this would come out. Myra and I, at first anyway, had every intention of telling the girls about her first marriage—when they were old enough to understand. But time got away from us, and suddenly Phee was a teenager and we still hadn’t said anything. And then Myra didn’t want to. She was afraid the girls might think less of her if they knew she’d been divorced. Even that it might affect our daughters’ dating relationships and eventually their own marriages.” Quinn could almost see the wry smile Turner’s voice held. “Ironic that, except for Jo, the girls haven’t dated much at all. That really bothered Myra. She blamed herself for so much. As if she could have helped getting cancer. But she was devastated that she didn’t get to see any of her daughters walk down the aisle or meet her future grandbabies.”
Quinn nodded, remembering the selfless woman Myra had been.
Turner cleared his throat. “Anyway, bottom line, we never did tell the girls about Myra’s other marriage. It was a mutual decision. I agreed that her first marriage really didn’t have anything to do with our daughters. By the time Phee left home, we’d kind of become comfortable with just … letting that be in the past.”
“But then they found the photo?”
Turner was silent for a few long seconds. “Yes. But I had no idea that photo even existed. Or why she would have saved it. I still don’t get it … The man was abusive to her. In the worst sort of ways. She was desperate to get out of the marriage. B
ut he was a public figure—older, rich—so of course, he called all the shots. He had her in a financial stranglehold.”
Quinn had a hard time picturing the self-confident Myra Chandler he’d known as the woman Turner was describing. He guessed it was the same for Phylicia.
“Do you think … Is Phee taking it okay?” Turner’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“I think she’s doing okay. But I really couldn’t say for sure. She’s talked about it a little, but not so much her feelings. More just … the facts.” He couldn’t bring himself to reveal how angry and disappointed Phylicia had been with Turner over his marriage announcement.
“Has she said anything about … the possibility that I’m not her father?”
“What?” What was he talking about? Quinn had to backpedal through his thoughts to even make sense of the question.
“If I know Phee, she’s been digging into things. I don’t know what Myra might have said to her, but … there’s a chance Phee may have questioned whether or not I’m her biological father.”
“No. She hasn’t said anything like that to me.” Quinn went to the sofa and sat down next to Mabel. The dog looked up at him as if checking to be sure he was okay. Seeming satisfied, she curled up with her head on Quinn’s lap. “Why would Phylicia think that?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“You knew Myra, Quinn. You know what a good heart she had.”
“Yes. Of course.” What did that have to do with his first question? He didn’t like where he feared this conversation was going. He’d been Turner’s confidant on a lot of things, but never anything this personal—or profound.
A heavy sigh came over the line. “I may as well get this out of the way first. Myra was still married to Bill—” He stopped abruptly. “We’ve never told anyone his name. And I won’t. I don’t want the girls to know who he was. Do you understand?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t say anything.” Be careful what you promise.
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