Keep an eye on the storm.

I live in Sundre, Alberta.  A beautiful little haven nestled at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.  In fact if you drive west of my house you will not find anymore towns or cities you will only find wilderness and beauty.

I love where I live.  I have only been here three years but I hope to stay a very long time.

Yesterday we had a tornado touch down.

I have a funny - or not so funny tale to tell you.

I have had a very full and busy week.  Nearly every moment has been dictated by a never-ending to-do list.  At the top of that to-do list was a priority item that unfortunately needed a huge block of time.  A commodity that was in short supply this week.  So after lunch on Thursday I told my family I am barricading myself in my room and not coming our until my priority item was complete. And that is precisely what I did.

I ventured out only a few times for a drink or snack or a washroom break.  Oh, and a few trips to end squabbles and direct traffic with my three bored children.  On a couple of those trips out of my room I found my kids on the patio watching the incredible storm we were having.  The hail pounded on our home.  The rain beat against the windows.  Of course, the thunder and lightening gave an impressive show as well.  However I

Chapter seveteen, page two

Somehow, I managed to stagger my way into the ladies washroom.  I needed to freshen my face and rid myself of the dreaded tears before I found Stacie.  Hopefully that part of my journey is factual and my lovely sister is awaiting my arrival on the other side of the terminal.

I bent over the sink to splash water on my face when a woman spoke.  It wasn’t déjà-vu.  This woman was a young, spritely thing with the biggest mop of red curls I had ever seen.  Much like a grown up Shirley Temple.

“Hi there.  Do you speak English?”  She asked.

“Yes.”

Her eyes glanced upward.  “Thank you God.”  Then she turned her gaze on me.  “I was praying that someone who wasn’t French or Japanese or German or ... whatever would come into the bathroom next.”

No way Lord.  I thought.  I’m out of the vision casting, dream-reading business.  No more crazies, please.  I could not be sure God was listening to me because the young red-head had his attention as well.

As she raved her praises to God, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick.  She began to tighten her lips and rub the vibrant colour across them.  “I never travel alone.”  She managed to speak despite her gaping mouth.  “You?”

Chapter thirteen, Page three

Minutes past.  Maybe lots of them.  There was no relevance of time as I sat on the edge of my hotel bed. 

Quinn had left and I needed to stumble to the bathroom and get ready for the dinner party.  Except, I didn’t want to go anymore. 

Even though Dean wouldn’t be there I still didn’t want to go. 

Thankfully a stronger part of me stepped forward.  Quinn needed my help.  The dinner party could possibly be the  key to unlocking this mystery.  Jane’s party was the first vision I had received for Quinn.  I stumbled into the moist bathroom with his masculine scent lingering in the air.

Hanging in the same spot where I had hung his new clothes earlier was a beautiful red party dress.  I closed my eyes allowing the emotions I felt wearing it earlier creep over me.  What do I do with these feelings God?  Am I allowed to have them?  I know Mitch is gone and he is never coming back.  I do know that.  Tell me please God ... are my feelings for Quinn real or are they planted so I will help him? 

Behind my closed eyelids, I felt heat flush my face.  Help him?  Have I helped him or have I made everything worse?

Chapter thirteen, page two

My feet found their way to the bed in front of me.  I sat as a motionless prisoner to the facts.  My words, my actions and my very presence seemed to make Quinn’s life worse.

 

Despite that, I could not deny that look in his eyes.  There was no misinterpreting his words on the hood of his car.  Or the smile he offered to me numerous times.  He didn’t want me to leave.

God if you put me in this situation than I am counting on you getting me out.  Was I going to break this man’s heart, or mine in six days when I leave for home?  I tried to imagine again that perfect smile disappearing from his face and a look of broken heartedness overtaking him.  Only I couldn’t.  Somehow even in our most precarious situations his smile had never gone far.  I had seen angry for sure, when he saw all his possessions destroyed.  I had seen compassion in him whenever he looked at me.  In fact, I had seen hope when he visited Anna.  However I had not seen him broken-hearted.   

Then without planting the thought there myself I saw a vision of him standing outside in his new clothes crying.  No ... weeping.

Chapter twelve, page three

A comfortable silence followed us as we walked to my hotel room to clean up for the dinner party.  While we rode the elevator, Quinn’s phone buzzed.  As he answered it and rattled on in French to someone, I paid no attention.  There still was a battle waging in my head for what to believe.  My mind definitely wasn’t in the same place as my heart. 

Thirty-six hours ago and a continent away I was a barely-breathing, depressed widow convinced life needed to pass me by.  That without Mitch there was no reason to be happy or experience the rest of my life.  I had hoped and planned to experience it all with him.  Now look at me.  I am opening the doors to an amazing penthouse suite in Paris.  There is a devilishly handsome man at my hip that is interesting in me.  Instead of revelling in that, I am chastising myself for my own wayward thoughts about him.

Quinn hung up his cell phone.  “That was the detective.  He needs me to come down to the station for some questions and paperwork.  It seems that Dean is still trying to organize his bail, so we are set for the dinner party.  Would you mind if I quickly clean up and then head there?”

Chapter twelve. page two

I stepped out of the change room wearing my capris and blouse which all seemed so drab after my previous options.  Quinn was back in his chair.  Only his relaxed, easy going posture was replaced with a man hunched over his lap holding his head.  He stood as soon as he heard me. 

“Cathie, please forgive me.”

“There is nothing for me to forgive you for.”  I said as I marched out passed him and headed for the mall entrance.

He grabbed onto me and swung me around again.  “Then what just happened?”

I closed my eyes tight, hoping to wish away the awkwardness.  “It’s me Quinn.  You did nothing wrong.  There are just some things I would rather avoid.”  Again, I wiggled out of his grasp and walked away.

By the time I was out of the store I realized he was not with me.  I turned to find him walking several paces behind me.

He held up his index finger to me, wordlessly asking for me to wait.  I nodded and he bolted back to the store counter.  The woman handed him a credit card and a slip of paper.  Suddenly it dawned on me that he had purchased something.  I felt fairly confident that it wasn’t the socks he had wanted earlier.

Chapter twelve, page one

Quinn's voice caught me amidst my travels down memory lane.  “Are you alright, Cherie?”

“Yes.  Sorry if I am taking too long.”  I stepped into the full red dress and pulled it up over my hips.

“I was beginning to worry you might not show me anymore outfits.”  I could hear his smile through his words.

Although his words were registering in my head, my thoughts were consumed by what my eyes were seeing.  The red dress fit me perfectly.  It had a v-neckline and the bodice criss-crossed in the front making it easy to fasten solo.  I stood frozen in front of the mirror.  The image in the mirror was captivating even me. 

Slowly I smoothed the dress against my body curves, turning slightly to view the other angles.  ‘I don’t know if you can see this Mitch, but I would take your breath away.  You’d love this dress on me.’

Slowly I filled my lungs with fresh new air and opened the change room door.  This time Quinn was sitting on a comfy high-armed chair.

I was certain as he watched me exit from the small change room he was struggling for breath as I had been earlier.  His eyes closed as his mouth curved into a smile.  He let out a soft moan before opening his eyes.  “Cherie ...” he whispered.

Chapter eleven, page one

Once Quinn had his purchases wrapped and ready to go we left the store and headed further down the mall.

“Do you have more shopping to do?”  I asked.

“I need to find some socks and pants, but then I wanted to find you a cocktail dress as well.”

“Nooo!  I have my own clothes.  And unless the hotel went up in flames you are not buying me a dress.”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me intently.  “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“You already know what you want?”

The corners of his mouth tipped up in a crooked way.  “Please allow me to show you my idea before you reject it.”  He grabbed my hand within his and began to pull me along behind him.

“Quinn, I don’t like this idea.  I have clothes.”

“You brought something fancy with you?”

“Yes, I brought my best dress to wear to church with Stacie and Neale.”

Again his feet abruptly stopped.  “A church dress?”  He smirked.

“Yes”, I announced as I stood taller and surer of myself.  “Perhaps you should see it before you reject it.”  I mocked.

Quinn pulled my hand entrenched within his behind his back drawing me near to his chest.  He leaned over and whispered in my ear.  “I saw the most stunning cocktail dress in a window the other day.  The first moment I saw you in the pub the other night I knew it was made for you.”

My mind could not decide if I should blush or smile.  It bothered me that he had noticed my body in such a way.  Then again it would be invariably the same as how I ogled his back in the change rooms.

I reluctantly gave in and he ushered me through the busy mall.

When he arrived at the right place Quinn swung me to be face to face with a mannequin behind a wall of glass dressed in a sleek black dress.  It had spaghetti straps that criss-crossed at the nape of the neck and went around the back of the mannequin’s thin neck.  The bodice of the dress held snug to the plastic shapes of her body until it reached the top of her knee.

Quinn studied me as I took in the little bit of fabric before my eyes.  “Won’t you please try it?  For me, Cherie?”

I think I shook my head slowly at first.  Eventually, my head was so emphatic against the idea that Quinn used his hands to halt my shaking.

“You are a beautiful woman and that dress will look amazing on you.”

“That is not a dress.  That is a very expensive ... tea towel.”

I think he wanted to laugh at me, but he refrained offering me instead a handsome wink.  “Maybe there is something else you would like in this store then?”

I turned to him.  You are not buying me a dress.”

“And why not?  You cannot give me one good reason I bet.”  He shook his head and started to push me towards the store opening.  “Besides, I owe you.”

“What could you possibly owe me?”

“Well, for starters, twenty-six thousand dollars.”  He winked and nodded towards the dress hanging in the window.  “Consider this my first payment?”

“Quinn, you don’t owe me.  God gave you that money.”

That look of utter disbelief crossed his face again.  “Right?  I owe God twenty-six grand?”

“He doesn’t want your money.  He wants your life.”

Quinn’s fist hit the glass display case sending a reverberating sound through the halls.  He quickly regained control and whispered to me through gritted teeth.  “He can only have my life on a trade!”

Without warning he walked away from me and sat himself down at a bench in the center of the hall.

There were many faces watching us, so I took my time joining Quinn on the bench.  A sigh escaped my lips as I sat down.  I had no idea where to begin with him. 

When I didn’t respond to his outburst he continued on to further articulate his offer.  “He can have my life when he lets go of Anna’s.  He first has to release her from the pain and illness.”

My heart broke into two discernable pieces.  One half for the loss he will inevitably receive soon from Anna’s passing and the other half for the rejection of his Saviour for all the wrong reasons.

“Quinn, God doesn’t work that way.”  I said softly to be heard by only him.

Quinn let out a long deep breath and with his eyes closed he whispered back to me.  “I know.  He never did it before either.  But maybe he could change just this once.”

My hand gently caressed his back while my prayers boldly approached God’s throne of grace.  ‘Lord, only you know the answer to this one.  In your mercy there is a plan for Quinn.  I believe it is one where he won’t feel cheated.  Help him to find it Lord.’

“I’ll bet you think I have never loved God.”  He turned to face me.  “I did.  Once.”

“When?”  I asked softly.

“I did as a child.  My mum was a church goer.  She taught me many things, like how to pray and how to trust God.”

His pause lingered, so I nudged him.  “And then what happened?”

“He taught me a lesson I would never forget.  Or forgive.”

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chapter ten, page three

Our first stop inside the shopping centre was the food court.  It had been several hours since we sat at the little cafe across from my hotel for lunch.  

It boggled my mind to think of everything that had transpired since then.  Quinn had taken me to meet his sister, who was wonderful.  However she revealed a most disturbing revelation that rattled my world.  Only to be outdone by Quinn’s home burning to the ground leaving him homeless and lost in every sense of the word.  Now, of all things, we are shopping.

Our time together felt effortless.  Quinn’s demeanour was once again lively and fun-natured.  Somehow amidst all this turmoil he managed to shed his anger and face life with a smile again.  It was of course his devilishly handsome smile.  Every time he laughed or teased me my heart sang.

Our snack was precisely that – a small taste of French culture, he said.  He did not want to spoil my appetite, all the while raving about Jane’s feast that awaited us.  

Quinn was as giddy as a school boy as he introduced me to two of his favourite treats.  ‘Croque-monsieur’ was a couple pieces of grilled French bread with ham and cheese melted inside and ‘pain au chocolat’ was a croissant with a wedge of chocolate inside.  We bought one of each and shared them.  Naturally, he added, his recipe was better than the food court version.

Once our tummies were satisfied, Quinn excitedly dragged me into a men’s clothing store on the second floor to find him an outfit for the party.  He greeted the woman at the counter and immediately turned to me.  “Which one should I get?”

It was hard to hide my shock.  “You want me to pick?”  I stumbled for words as my eyes took in all the fashion surrounding us.  “I don’t know what you like.”

“Cherie, I am a man.  I’ll like whatever you like.”  Then he turned to the lady approaching us and spoke in French.  She turned away and went straight to work.  Her arms were soon weighted down with many articles of clothing as she ‘shopped’ for Quinn.

In a haughty French accent she passed by us announcing, “come”.

Following her to the changing room area, Quinn excitement grew. He followed her right into the cubicle.  They exchanged a few words and she left hardly acknowledging my existence.  I plopped myself onto a large orange triangle.  It was like an ottoman resting against a wall, but it was big enough for two.

 

The first time he popped out from behind his change room door he was decked out in a stylish black buttoned shirt with grey pants and a grey vested cardigan over top.  With a flick of his hair away from his face he looked like a fashion model.  It made my breath catch in my throat.  He looked gorgeous.

“Do you like this look?”  He asked as he turned a few different directions in front of me.

Gasp!  I didn’t need to see any more angles of him.  He looked stunning.  “Oh, it’s nice.  Do you like it?” 

Swallowing the large lump wedged in my throat actually hurt.  How dare I feel this way?  I am a widow.

“Nice, huh?”  Then he swung around and headed back into the change room. 

I breathed a sigh of relief giving my heart rate time to slow.

He chattered on while he changed about his belief that all women loved to shop and how I was shattering that image.  Instead of my interest in his words, they were merely a means to an end.  A distraction.  Maybe I should excuse myself and let him shop with the aid of the woman at the counter.  I leaned over on my ottoman to get a glimpse of her.  She was standing at her station filing her nails.

Just then the change room door opened and I turned to see the next product.  His breathtaking, almost regal pose sent my heart into overdrive.  I may be a widow but I am not dead – obviously!

Breathe Cathie!  The words screamed in my ears as I took in the next view of Quinn-like perfection.  He had a pair of dark coloured and form fitting slacks on with a white buttoned down shirt open loose at the bottom.  There was a slender black silk tie hanging loosely from his open collar.  Then a black leather jacket hung from his finger as he draped it behind his shoulder.  He really was posing like a model.

I blinked several times giving pause for my throat to produce words.  “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What?”  His innocent look passed over me with little effect as he did his spin around.  “I only want to know what you thing.  Is this one better than the first one?”

“They're both good.  Just pick whichever one you like best.”  I added in exasperation.

He closed the distance between us and squatted at the base of my ottoman.  Our eyes were level with one another and my heart did the most fearsome pitter-patter imaginable.  “Are you alright, Cherie?”

Breathe!  “I am fine.  I am sorry if I was curt.”

“Well, you were.  If I look dreadful I would appreciate you telling me now before I step out in public.  Honestly, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

Dreadful?  My frantic, racing heart could only wish.  “Quinn,” I extended my hand to his stubbly cheek.  “You look anything but dreadful.”

His eyes danced for a moment as he interpreted my words.  He leaned a little closer to me.  “Do you like it then, my Dear?”

“Yes.”  My voice could barely muster a whisper as I struggled with the rising emotions in me.

For a moment he didn’t budge.  He remained there, a breath’s distance from me looking like my knight in shining armour.  Then he stood with that mischievous smile he sports so often.  Without a word he headed back into the change room.  I was certain my heart could not take any more outfits like the last two.

As I sat in my place practising my breathing, Quinn’s head popped over the top of the change room door.

“Cherie, would you be a peach and grab me a pair of trousers and a shirt to match just for regular wear?”

“Trousers?”

“Yes, please.” 

I stood reluctantly and headed towards the lady at the counter.  Perhaps she could show me the ‘trouser’ rack.

Well, the look she gave me when I asked her where I would find the trousers told me I was completely brainless.  She surveyed her hand out across the whole room.   “What kind of trousers?”

She might as well have added the ‘duh’ sound after her question.  I thanked her and then started to peruse the clothing racks all by myself.  Okay Lord, if you can direct me on how to keep Quinn alive, perhaps you can direct me to the right kind of ‘trousers’.

Then Quinn wandered out of the changing area with a few items draped over his arm.  He handed them to the lady at the counter who offered him a warm and enticing smile.  He didn’t even seem to notice though as he made a beeline right to me.

“Did you find anything you like?”

“I will be completely honest with you.  I don’t really know what trousers are.  I mean, I think of them as pants my grandfather would wear.  Is that what you really want?”

Quinn stifled a giggle and reached over my shoulder to a pile of clothing behind me.  He pulled back his arm with a pair of jeans in his hand.  “Would you Grandfather wear these trousers?”

He smiled and then turned back to the lady at the counter not even waiting on my response.

“Do you carry socks and pants as well?”

The lady shook her head.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders and then approached her counter pulling his wallet from his back pocket.  All the while I was thinking he was holding the pants but that must refer to something else I was ignorant of.

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Chapter ten, page two

The drive returning to my hotel was riddled with awkward silence.  His grand gesture to me had not been received well.  I really did want to be needed by him, and wanted by him.  Only his methods brought me anxiety instead of comfort.  His emotions were high and his actions were strong.  I longed for that gentle man who trusted me in the bakery, protected me in front of Dean and desired to know me in the hotel. 

After Quinn parked his car we continued to sit in silence for a moment.  Finally he looked up at me and I saw a hint of his personality seeping back into his golden eyes.  “I promised you a snack and a rest.”  He said with a wink.

“Quinn, I think you need a lawyer.”

“I quite agree.”

“Do you know any?”

“Not personally, but my best friend’s wife was a law secretary.  Perhaps she knows someone I could trust.”

“Uh, Quinn?  Are you thinking of Jane?”

“Yes, how did you – never mind, why do I ask anymore?”

“Tonight is the dinner party, remember?  Are you thinking of going there?”

He thought for awhile.  “Yes I am.  Dean will not show if he is still handling his unfortunate show down with the police this morning.  I think we should both go.”  He looked over to me with a glint in his eye.  “How would you like to join me for a fancy but possibly boring evening of wine, fabulous food and a few wacky but very decent friends?”

“That sounds like an offer a girl can’t refuse.”  I returned his smile and for a moment the afternoon escapade faded into a distant memory.  “You aren’t going to go dressed like that, are you?”

Quinn glanced down at his faded blue jeans and henley top.  “I wonder if we could include shopping as part of your tourist experience in Paris?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Quinn started up the motor of the car and pulled away from the curb.  Everything felt right back on track.  As much as it could for the most bizarre vacation I had ever taken.

Quinn teased that he would choose the ‘most tourist-y mall’ he could find.  When I questioned him as to why he simply stated, “Then you don’t have to speak much French.”

“I am perfectly capable of speaking French.”

“Well, I know you can speak it, but ‘perfectly’ might be a stretch.  Your French sounds a little weak, Cherie.”

“Weak?”  I shouldn’t be offended because he was right.  “I am out of practice, I guess.”   It would be futile to try to explain to Quinn that I used to love listening to Mitch speak French with his mother.  It was so comforting to me.  Then there were times when he would whisper words of love into my ear. The melodious, rhythmic cadence of his accented words made me feel safe and loved.  It is only since silence replaced those words in my home that they feel like a grater on my skin. 

Until Quinn.  His deep, yet soft English accent perfectly producing the French language has brought a whole new sense of comfort.  His voice rings low into my heart.  When he speaks French his words filter hope into my dry spirit and I start to feel alive again.  Maybe that is why he feels so familiar to me.  

Along with that comes a whole new purpose to my life.

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Chapter ten, page one

Before I could slow my own breathing, Quinn returned to the car.  His pace spoke volumes.  He walked right up to the car door, opened it then quickly slammed it shut again.  I heard him mumbling in French as he paced away from the car.

Slowly I exited the vehicle.  “Quinn?”

His tightened eyes turned on me.  “What?”

I was afraid to approach him.  His eyes burned with fury.  I leaned against the hood of the car.  “I’m sorry.”

“Everything is gone.”  He hid his face in his hands.  “I stored photographs of my mum there.  Gone.  Anna’s things were in my house.  She will need those when she gets out of the hospital.  But they are all gone now!”

Once again his compassion for others was obvious, as it bled through the cracks in his anger.  “I’m so sorry Quinn.”

“No.  Do not speak.  It’s His fault, not yours.”  He pointed upward.

Then he shook his fists into the sky.  “What do you want from me?”

His anger startled me.  The temples beyond his darkening eyes were pulsing.  How could you blame him, really?  The last twenty four hours have been nothing short of a disaster.  However I had never envisioned his soft and happy nature resorting to these kinds of emotions.

He stepped towards me.  “What does He want from me?  What possible explanation can He offer for this?”

I have never had to stand in the gap for God before.  I felt unqualified to say the least.  I cannot answer Quinn's question of why.  I can only attest to the nature of God and the abundant love of Jesus.  However, I don’t think now is the time for that.

Quinn didn’t pause long enough for my answer anyway.  “He took my business and my house.”  He turned to the heavens again.  “What’s next?  My car?”

He closed the distance to the car in one single leap.  His fists came down on the hood with a fierce vengeance.  His feet kicked the tires.  “You can have it!  Take it all!  Take it!"  He collapsed on the hood of the black car with a thump.  "But you can’t have Anna!”  

Then it was quiet.  The sound felt deafening after the abrupt end to his tirade.  But I could hear his breathing.  It was laced with pain in each quick and laboured breath.  

How could I possibly show the love of a Saviour to this broken man?  As I stood on the opposite side of the car hood all I could do was pray for Quinn.  

In the last day since I’ve met him he has lost almost everything.  And he is right to fear what might come next.  Based on Anna’s condition today she can’t possibly have much time left.

Suddenly his head rose from the car.  “Come Cathie.”  It wasn’t an invitation.  His voice carried an edge.  Slowly I made my way to him.  My hope was to offer him comfort.  He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

As I edged around his car towards him his arm snaked out, grabbing my waist and pulling me in like a tractor beam.  His arms surrounding me were tight and secure.  He needed me.  So I wrapped my arms around his neck.  Suddenly his hands lifted me up under my arms and planted me onto the car hood.  His forehead rested firmly against mine.

An anguished whisper caressed my nose.  “Cathie, He is going to take you from me too.”

I moved his face back a few inches from mine.

“Quinn.  You are wrong about that.  God is not taking me from you.  I don’t live here, remember.  In six days I am flying home.  That’s all.”

His eyes were darker than usual and rimmed with moisture.  “It matters none.  You will be gone just like everything else I dare to care about.”

He pressed his lips hard to my forehead.  Then my cheek.  And my neck.  He continued to kiss me with a palpable desperation. 

I pressed him back.

“Please do not go.”  His adam’s apple bounced as a large lump travelled down his throat.  “Do not leave me Cathie.  I need you.”

Taking his face in my hands I searched his eyes.  “Quinn, listen to me.  I am here for you now.”

As my words took root he straightened his body, gained his composure and withdrew from me.  I suppose my words weren’t as comforting as I had planned them to be.

He slid me off the hood.   “Get in.”  Then he crawled into the driver’s seat. 

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Chapter nine, page three

Once we were settled in the car and on the road Quinn gingerly attempted a conversation.

“Did you like my sister a little?”

“Oh Quinn, I loved her.  Please do not think I left because of her.”

“Well, it is unanimous then.  She loved you too.  She made me promise if I found you that I would bring you back again before you fly home.”

“Oh.”  What would I say to her?  I was so rude to run out and she’ll want to know why.  That is something I cannot look forward to.  I just smiled sheepishly at Quinn hoping he would change the topic.

He bobbed his head back and forth.  “Or maybe not?  Let’s not focus on that now.  I need to get you back to your hotel for a rest.”

“I’m fine.  Really I am.”

“Uhhuh.”  His sarcastic response was nearly drowned out by the ring of his cell phone.

He scrambled in his back pocket for it.  “Allo.”

“Ay, oui.  Je suis Quinn.”

“Oh, bonjour Detective.  Je conduis dans la rue d'Ulm.”

“Ma maison?”

As soon as I heard the word ‘house’, my head shot to my left.  “It was your house?”  The image of the burning home came back to me.  I had forgotten all about it in my own personal turmoil.

Quinn looked at me as he listened to the cellphone at his ear.  Then he flicked on his signal light in a fury.

“Merci, Detective.  Je serai là.”  He closed his phone and tossed it onto the console between us.  Without a moment’s pause he whipped the car in a frantic u-turn and sped down the street in the opposite direction.

He remained speechless as we flew through the afternoon traffic. He took deep, slow audible breathes as my head hurt from trying to sort it all out.  There were no words that came to my mind that seemed appropriate.  Was that really his house, Lord?  What is happening?

Finally Quinn spoke as he darted in and out between the fellow drivers.  “Sorry Cherie, but we need to make a quick stop before I take you back.”

“That’s fine.  What did the detective say?”

“There seems to be a little trouble at my house.”

“A fire?”

He turned to look at me.  “Did you overhear the conversation or ...?”

“I saw it.”  I felt horrible almost as if I had caused the fire.  “I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you.  I didn’t know it was your house.”

“When did you see it?”

“In Anna’s room, while you were meeting with the doctors.”

“Is that why you ran out?”

“No.”  The guilt and shame mounted upon me like a heavy backpack.  Quinn stared straight ahead as he drove and I feared he would not be able to overlook this.  Perhaps he would not forgive me.  So I sat there, brewing in all the toxic emotions consuming me.

There was nothing said after that until we turned down a residential street lined with trees.  Ahead of us was several fire trucks parked perpendicular in the street blocking our access.  Quinn parked his car in the middle of the street and turned off the engine.  

He reached for the door handle but paused.  His face turned to me as he squeezed my trembling hands on my lap.  “Don’t worry Cherie.  From what the detective said on the phone I would have needed to know hours ago in order to do anything about it.”

I saw his worry or fear building in the corner of his eyes before he fled the vehicle.

Quinn walked briskly around the back end of a fire truck and out of my line of sight.  He hadn't invited me to join him so I stayed.  Somehow, I felt responsible for this new tragedy in his life.

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Chapter nine, page two

My heart could not find its next beat.  My lungs were gasping for air more than Anna’s were.  My eyes felt swollen and the floor warped.  I was drowning somewhere between a vision of a burning house and my deceased husband.  The emotions raging in me were taking over my rational thought.  

I needed to get out of this room before I exploded.  I released Anna’s hand just as Quinn entered the room uttering something about two beautiful women in one room.  It didn’t matter.  My dream had transfigured into a nightmare and I wanted out.

I shoved past Quinn, through the door into the hallway.  Which way was the elevator?  To my left?  Thankfully I was correct and I did not have to wait for it to arrive.  I even managed to get the elevator doors closed before Quinn’s hand could snake its way in.  Once the doors closed me in, my eyes flooded with tears. 

"God, what are you doing to me?"  My head fell to the metal panel in front of me.  "Can it be true that Mitch and Quinn were childhood friends?"  Then my feet began to kick the elevator walls.  "I want out God!  You never asked me if I wanted to do this.  Let me out of this nightmare!  Please.  I’m done."

I heard the ding of the elevator and desperately tried to wipe my face.  Deciding it didn’t matter, I bolted through the doors as soon as there was enough room to squeeze through. I nearly ran over a woman with a walker, but I kept going.  In the lobby by the main doors was a phone.  I scrambled for some coins in my pockets and grabbed the receiver.  The operator came on speaking in French. 

“I need ... un taxi.  Je m’appelle Cathie.”

She needed more information asking me for the address of where I was.

The desperation I felt drove me to bend over still trying to access more air.  My free hand supported my shaking body over my knee.  “Je n’est ce pas l’addresse.  I am at, um ... l’hopital.”

Then she asked which hospital.  That question forced me to straighten up and begin searching for a sign.  My stance was wobbly and my eyes seemed unable to focus.   I probed the walls in front of me as best as I could.  Looking then to my left still with no luck.  “Which hospital?  I don’t know where I am.”  I said.

In a panic I swung to my right hoping to find a sign naming the hospital near the elevators.  Instead the only thing in my view was a worrisome Quinn.  I froze.

He slowly reached out for the phone handle.

I couldn’t escape.  He caught me.  My thoughts were so mixed up I could not tell if I was disappointed or relieved that he was here.  I reluctantly handed the phone to him, hearing the woman calling out for an answer.

“Les portes principales à l'Institut Curie, s'il vous plait.”  Then in a moment he responded to the woman on the other line with ‘merci’.  With a deep slow breath he reached over my shoulder to hang up the phone.

As the scent of his cologne came over me I melted.  What am I doing?

He responded to me collapsing against his chest by holding me tight.  I needed his strong arms as my knees were weak.  I sobbed into his shirt.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry Quinn.”

He stroked my hair and just held me so close.

After a few moments I was able to slow the torrent and gain my composure.  I pressed my hands against his chest to separate our bodies.  “I’m sorry.”

“Please do not apologize, Cherie.”  He gently wiped away a stray tear from my cheek, while he kept his other hand on my waist.  “What happened in there?”

If I thought telling him my husband died was too hard, surely telling him his best friend died would rank slightly higher.  “Nothing.”

“Really?  The kind of ‘nothing’ that would cause one to run for cover?”

He made me smile.  “Yah, I guess so.”

He tipped my chin up to see into my drippy eyes.  “Cherie, if you want to go somewhere I will take you.  Please don’t run from me.”

I don’t want to.  I grabbed the flanks of his shirt and squeezed them.  The thick weave of his cotton shirt warmed my trembling hands.  His voice soothed my frayed nerves.  His touch made me feel special.  His attention made me want to stay.  “I don’t want to run from you.”

He pulled me close again while he reached out for the phone.  He called and cancelled the taxi and then confidently led me out the front doors.  “Are you able to walk back to the car?”

“Of course, I can walk.  I am fine, actually.  You don’t need to fuss over me.”

“It would be my pleasure to fuss over you.  I propose driving you back to your hotel, feeding you and putting you down for a rest.  You are taking this all too seriously.”

I’m begging you Lord, for another way to process this.  It feels far too serious.  

Then with his arm around my waist, holding me close, we walked the few blocks back to the car without much said.  All I could do was silently pray for God to bring a reprieve from all the drama.

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chapter nine, page one

When we entered the hospital room, Anna was asleep.  The room was decorated in a soft and warm shade of peach.  It felt uplifting, instead of sterile for a change.  Anna had flowers and cards along a sunny window sill.  Across the foot of her hospital style bed laid a hand knit yellow blanket.  It shone as bright as the afternoon sun.

Quinn headed straight for her bed without hesitation.

“She’s resting, Quinn.  We can come back later.”  I whispered.

“Non.  She is always sleeping.”  He bent over her and softly spoke into her ear.  “Bonjour, Cherie.  It's Quinn.”

It tickled my heart that he called her 'Cherie' as well.  It confirmed that I held a special place in his heart.  That is unless he says it to every woman he sees.  Where’s a cute nurse when you need one?

Slowly Anna started to wake and turn her head towards us.  Her eyes took a long time to open fully, attempting to adjust to the light.  I moved to close the blinds, but Quinn captured my hand in his.  He encouraged Anna to open her eyes further to be introduced to me.

“Anna, there is someone special I want you to meet.”

Anna tried again to stretch open her eyelids to take in the two of us at her bedside.  When her eyes rested on me, her expression became exaggerated.  

“She`s here.”  She said.

Quinn spun his head to his left where I stood.  “She knows you too?  Am I the only one who did not swallow the red pill?”

I shrugged my shoulders, shocked at her comment myself.

Anna’s hand moved slowly to Quinn’s wrist.  “She is from my dreams.  She is an angel, Quinn.”

Should that comment make me feel better?  It actually only threw a whole new spin of confusion on our relationship.  Quinn just transferred his glance from me to Anna and then back again.

Then, in the doorway of the hospital room appeared a man in a long lab coat.  He addressed Quinn in French asking for his attention to some paperwork.  Quinn excused himself quickly, leaving Anna and I alone in her room.  For a moment, I wished I could have gone with him.  Then Anna spoke to me, relieving my fears.

“I prayed that God would send you into Quinn’s life.  I am so glad you came before my time here is done.”

“You prayed for me?”  Something felt very backwards about that.

“Yes.  I know my time is short and the only unfinished business in my life is Quinn’s salvation.”  She closed her eyes and gasped for a deeper breath.  Her face was dusted in a pale shade.  When her eyes opened they danced lively in that butterscotch colour I have grown to love.  The vibrancy was short lived, as the dark circles encasing her eyes soon drown it out.  

“I love my brother but he can be very stubborn you know.”

A slight chuckle was all I could muster.

Her breathing was so shallow, it unnerved me.  Working in a senior’s home I am familiar with the signs of a life that is ending.  In my case, all the people I have watched die are seniors that have lived a full life.  Now my eyes are moist at the sight of a young and once vital woman in her twenties, grasping for air.

“Tell me your name, Angel?”

I cringed at her reference for me.  “Cathie.”

“Where are you from Cathie?”  She reached for my hand.

“Canada.”  I shifted my position shortening the distance between us.  Her hand filled mine with a cold and bony touch.  “Well, A small town near Montréal to be exact.”  I added with nervous chatter.

“God is so good.”  She closed her eyes and a deep satisfied smile covered her pale lips.  “Cathie, will you do me a favour?”

“Yes.  Anything you need.”

Her lungs reached for more air.  “Promise me you will take Quinn back to Canada with you when I am gone.”

“Oh, I am only here for a week.”

“Me too.”  She said without the tiniest hint of sorrow.  Her voice carried confidence as if she was heading home in a few days just like me.

Her peace was intoxicating.  Lord I want to know Your hand on my life as much as she does.  I squeezed her hand.  “Anna, I cannot promise that he will come with me, but I will ask him.”

“Thank you”, she whispered.

“Can I ask you why?”

“There are two people important in his life that he needs to reconnect with.  They both reside in Canada.  First is a dear, dear friend from his childhood that moved to Canada when Quinn was thirteen.”  She wheezed for air again.  “He has talked incessantly about finding him.  However the fool has never had the courage to search for him.”

“When did they lose touch?”

“Very shortly after he moved away.  I think Quinn's letters started to be returned only months after?”

“Like I said, I will try.”

Anna’s weak hand feebly squeezed mine.  “He needs to find him to heal fully from his past.  Please do what you can to help him.”

“I will try.  Quinn has never mentioned his friend to me.”  Yet.  I hoped that he would confide something like this to me.  It would show a marker of his trust.  Considering all of the details I mysteriously know of his life now, I lacked a few key milestones from his past.  I guess the same could be said for me.  My greatest life marker so far still remained an unmentionable between us.

Anna's eyes closed and her head tilted back.  I gasped for my own breath as I feared she was fading.  After a very long minute, she spoke quietly.  ““What was his name?  It seems to have escaped me.  But Quinn will know.  Ask him.”

“Okay.  Who is the second person in Canada?”  Just as the words left my mouth a vision of a fire consumed my thoughts.  It was a raging inferno, blurring most of the image behind it.  Squinting my eyes tighter I could almost make out the image of a window and a door behind the flames.  If only I could see around the fire.  Then I might have an indication of where the fire was.

Then Anna’s voice broke through in a jubilant but frail announcement.  “Mitchell.  His name is Mitchell Bellamy.  I can’t believe I remembered his name.  Praise God.”  She closed her eyes and whispered another thank you to God.  I think she continued to talk but there was no longer any comprehension on my part.

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Chapter eight, page three

Quinn steered his vehicle into a parking lot on his left and I realized I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going anymore.

The parking lot was large and very few open stalls.  Across the street towered a large building with old style character.  The sign out front was carved out of stone and etched the hotel name in fancy script.  A long cobblestone driveway graced the front of the beautifully crafted building.

“Um, Quinn?  We left one hotel just to visit another?”

“Non, Cherie.  We are only using this parking lot.  We still need to walk a little ways to our destination.  Are you alright with that?”  He parked the car in an open space and turned to face me.  “The parking is poor in this part of town.  This is the best place to leave the car. Ready?”

“Sure.  Although I don’t know where we are going.”

“I know.  Isn’t this fun?”  Quinn whipped around and out his car door.  So I followed his example.

As we started to walk, he reached for my hand.  “D’accord?”

“Yes.”  Sensing the warmth and tenderness of his hand enveloping mine felt perfect.

“Tell me something, Cherie.”

I nodded.

“Why does God always tell you what you should do next?”

“He doesn’t normally do that.”

“But He did.”  Quinn said.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why did He do that then?”

I shrugged, offering my best guess.  “Because He can.”

“But He doesn’t usually?”

“No.”

"So how do you usually know what you should do next?"

"Sometimes you have to just try several different options.  Most of the time you will feel peace about one way and not another."

"But you have to fumble about with it?"

I half laughed.  "It does feel like that sometimes."

“And you still call him a loving God?”

Suddenly I felt crowded.  Casually, I managed to talk myself into a corner.  The walls of my doctrine started closing in around me.  How do I begin to answer his doubts?  “Yes, He is loving.  He guides us through things in many different ways but usually He is not as obvious as He has been lately.”

“So let me see if I get this.  God has a plan for you but He wants you to grope around for it?  But every once in awhile he shakes things up by throwing in a few visions?”

“No.  Not exactly.  God can speak to our hearts and direct us through our conscience.  But mostly believers use the Bible to judge what step is next.”

Even saying that felt weak.  I know what I believe about God; He is always there and He will never leave me or forsake me.  Yet, there are so many times in my life when I feel like I do have to guess what God wants from me.  Many people I know say they wish God would just speak out loud to them or leave a big flashing sign for them.  Or even send a vision of which step is next.  Either way this is one of the mysteries of God.  Why doesn’t He do those things?

“The best answer I can come up with, Quinn is that He wants our devotion.  He wants us to want to follow Him.  So instead of leading us through direct methods, He prefers that we seek Him personally.  It is like a friendship.  You don't sit down with someone you want to befriend and write out all their likes and dislikes.  Instead you discover truths about each other by spending time together and talking from your hearts.”  I watched Quinn for a moment as we walked hand in hand down the sidewalk.  He seemed unmoved.

“It is the concept of free-will.”  I continued.  “If everything was laid out for us we would be like robots moving along a pre-determined plan.  God doesn’t love robots.  He loves people.  So He has given us all the chance to choose to follow Him.  Does that make sense?”

“As clear as muddy water."

"Well, I don't know.  Then what would make it clearer?"

"Could you explain it with an example?”

“Do you mean an example of how He directs me?”

“Yes.  Tell me of one of the hardest things you’ve had to sort out lately and tell me how He helped you.”

I am certain the sidewalk tilted and the buildings warped at that moment.  Everything shifted in my head giving the sensation I was falling.  All I could think of was the deep dark pit I had spent months and years in after Mitch’s death.

Surely that experience would qualify for an example of the hardest thing I've had to sort out lately.  Only, it wouldn't suffice in explaining feeling God's help and guidance.  After Mitch's death I felt lost.  I still do really.  Time often stood still while I tried to figure out which foot to move.  Then once I had the foot patterns worked out it seemed a mystery which direction to head.

Naturally, I am not a fighter, so I decided it was easier to just stay home.  I could usually manage to find my way around my own floor plan no matter what condition I was in.  Besides, if there were days when I couldn't  - nobody saw me.

I remember, long after Mitch's passing, kind-hearted people would tell me I should feel blessed that God has given me a trial that He can use.  ‘Just think of how you can help others now’, they’d say. They tried to help me see a way to use the pain.  Only I didn't really want to help others deal with their grief.  I had enough of my own to handle.

In fact, how can I be qualified to help Quinn see that God leads us through our trials and our pains when I have felt lost inside a torrent of sorrow for three years?  If God did lead me through it, I was blinded to His hand.

My silence after his question must have made Quinn feel uncomfortable.  “I am sorry Cathie, if I have upset you.  You do not need to tell me anything.”  He squeezed my hand.

“It’s okay.  I just wish I had a better answer for you.  All I know is what I believe to be true about God.  He loves me and He has a plan for my life.  It is not His plan to hurt me or cause me pain.  However life is painful.  Life is just naturally filled with yucky things.”  I stopped walking momentarily and turned Quinn to see his expression.  “I would have pain in my life even if I didn’t have God.”

Slowly his head nodded.  “I see what you mean.  It is always nicer to have someone to help you shoulder your burdens though, isn’t it?”

Then Quinn steered me off the sidewalk up a few steps to a building with endless windows.  We entered the front doors briskly and straight through the lobby.  When we reached the elevator, Quinn turned to me.

“I want you to meet Anna.”

I had an inkling that was where we were headed when we entered the building.  There were folks walking in every different direction.  Some dressed in scrubs and lab coats, while others looked like patients.

The elevator door opened before I could answer him.  Once inside I asked, “are you sure she won’t mind?”

“Anna?  Not a chance.  She loves people.”  He turned to select the third floor button.  “Besides I have a strange feeling that she is going to adore you.”  He squeezed my hand.  The sensation ran the length of my arm right into my heart.

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Chapter eight, page two

We stood staring at each other in the elevator.  Obviously in my haste to close the doors on Quinn I had neglected to push the floor button.  So there we stayed, watching intently the tension melt away between us.

Then in a flash, Quinn extended his hand to me as if in a handshake.  Shielding the disappointment I felt over his choice of reconciliation I joined my hand with his.  Only he didn’t shake it.  He tipped my hand over and kissed it.  Then in a whirl, he turned me on my feet in a sway of rhythmic movement and somehow my hand ended up draped over his opposite arm again.  It was so fluid and precise I had no idea it happened until it was done.  He clicked the ‘ouvrir’ button and escorted me out of the elevator.  I was floating on a cloud.  It felt like I was walking off the stage in a Humphrey Bogart movie.

 “And your sister said you cannot dance.”  He said with a wink.

“I can’t.”  I added softly.

“So, Cherie, may I take you somewhere special this afternoon?”

“I- uh ...”

Quinn paused and faced me.  “Unless your quick departure to the elevator was a in fact an attempt to return to your room and not just a decoy to avoid facing me.” 

I am sure I blushed red again.  “Hmm, busted.  Sorry Quinn.  I would love to go somewhere special with you.”

He smiled big and bright.

As we drove through the streets of Paris, I couldn’t help soaking all the sights in.

“It sure is beautiful here.”  I said to the window that my nose was nearly pressed to.

“So what attractions and sights have you seen already?”  Quinn asked.

I thought for a moment.  “I’ve seen the airport, the hotel, a pub and a broken down bakery.”  I offered my best sympathetic smile.

“That’s it?”  Quinn reached over and touched my hand on my lap.  “Well, I intend to add to your list then.  I may even improve upon it.”

As his hand gently caressed mine I felt the desire to fill in some of his hurting places.  To offer him a balm that could heal his pain.  Although I did not know what it was, aside from Anna’s condition, he certainly alluded to a hidden reservoir of pain when he spoke of his Father.  It is not uncommon for people whose earthly father failed them to find it extremely difficult to love a heavenly Father.

“You know Quinn, we cannot know what God has willed and planned for our lives.  Or the lives of the people we love most.  But, ...”.

I paused.  How could I offer hope?  I wanted to more than anything else, but I lacked my own.  God had been silent in my life for years since Mitch’s passing.  I tried questioning Him.  I tried worshipping Him.  I even tried ignoring Him.  There was no response.  I don't believe God was ever really gone – just silent. 

“But, what?”  Quinn asked.

“But ... someone used to tell me something over and over again when I felt hopeless or confused about what God wanted to do in my life.  He would say,” I took a deep breath before reciting Mitch’s words.  “Nothing is impossible with God.”

We were stopped at a red light at the moment and I could feel Quinn’s prolonged gaze.  His eyes penetrated through my wall.  For the first time since I’d known him I wanted to hide from his eyes.  He could see through me and there were places inside me that I wasn’t ready to share with him.

His fingers glided effortlessly over my left hand.  He caressed my fingers one by one from knuckle to nail. When he reached my ring finger I could feel the unspoken question emerging beneath his touch.  Why is this finger bare?  Surely there is a man that loves this woman?

Now I know I am not a spinster yet.  However I am not a young vibrant woman facing a future that is bright either.  I am trapped somewhere between those two entities.  I’ve had my moment in the spotlight and I often wonder what happens now to a thirty-two year old widow that is childless?

Finally the scrutiny of his touch became unbearable and I pulled my hand away.

The light turned green and the car lurched forward.  Quinn spoke softly above the hum of the motor.  “Those are powerful words.  They must have come from someone you cared about.”

I could jump from the moving car I suppose.  I would likely be hurt but I would invariably survive.  But would I survive the pain of saying the words out loud?  My husband is dead.  No, I am not ready yet.

It is not a secret.  In fact I longed that Quinn knew already because then we could talk about it.  There is just something so gruelling about saying those four words out loud.  So I nodded my head instead.  Thankfully Quinn left the conversation there, hanging in the precipice between his seat and mine.

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Chapter eight, page one

I heard Quinn’s slow approach to my side before he spoke. 

“Cherie, I am sorry I said that.  I am trying to see things from your perspective but it is hard sometimes.”

I asked, “Do you remember what you said to me in my hotel room last night?”

Quinn swivelled me around to be face to face with him.  “I said a few things.  Was it before or after I kissed you?”  His eyes twinkled with mischief.

I felt my cheeks warm from his reminder.  Then quickly I averted my eyes from his intensity.  “Right before.  You said you do not remember me by looking but you feel like you’ve known me.”

“I remember saying that.  It is the truth.  Yet, I cannot explain how or why.  Unless you consider an explanation such as reincarnation.”  He grabbed me around the waist pulling me to him for a hug, whispering in my ear.  “Perhaps we were star-crossed lovers in an earlier life.”

“Put me down, please.”  I said as I shoved against him.

“Sorry.”  He released me instantly.

I began to cross the street towards my hotel.

“Cathie?”  Quinn said before he took a step across the street as well.

“I don’t believe in reincarnation.” I said.

He quickened his step to keep in time with mine.  “What do you believe in then?”

I waited till I reached the curb before turning towards him.  “I believe with all my heart in a God who is all powerful and all knowing.  He not only has our todays and tomorrows figured out, He has an infinite number of creative ways to get our attention.  Including miracles.”

Quinn straightened up and a look I could not name covered his face.  It wasn’t exactly a smile.  It was more a curiosity marbled with disbelief.  “That’s actually sounds intriguing when you say it that way.”

“Well, He is.  You should try getting to know Him a little.”

Quinn shook his head with an anguished grin.  “So, why would God want to do a miracle for me?”

“Because He loves you.”

His hands shot up in surrender.  “Whoa.  That is precisely where your argument loses all its merit.”

“What does that mean?”

“You want me to believe that an all-powerful Deity cares about me and the pathetic little things in my puny life.”  He seemed to ignore my head nods.  “Those two qualities are mutually exclusive Cathie.”

“That’s not true, Quinn.  He really is both things at the same time.  He is a God who cares about even the number of hairs upon your head.”

Quinn instinctively ran his fingers through his hair.  His head shook from side to side.  It took a moment before he conjured up his response.  “You know what I think?  I think that’s a woman’s hope.”

“A what?”

“Women hope and long for relationships even where none exist.  Men, on the other hand choose to follow the logistics of something.”

All the feminism within me went onto high alert.  Even though my head instinctively cocked to one side, I tried to hide my shock and disgust over his comment.  “Really?”

Quinn nodded in agreement without hesitation.

So I walked away.

Quinn caught up to me as I entered the hotel doors.  “Look, Cathie.  What I mean is that it might be easier for you to believe that God would want to help me.  Maybe because of your own feelings for me, you are hoping it to be true.”

To slow every ounce of fury from bursting forth I took a deep breath.  However, the breath did little to deter my next response.  

“So, let me ask you this then.  Are my feelings for you real or are they just a symptom of being the weaker sex?”  That was enough for me.  I didn’t even need to hear his response to that.  I turned and power walked to the elevator.  Thankfully it was ready for me.  Once inside I frantically hit the ‘fermer’ button. 

He managed to sneak his hand in between the closing elevator doors before I could escape.  “Cherie, you are not playing fair.”  He stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind him.  He stood in front of me studying my face.  “Can we start that over, please?”

“I don’t want to.  Let’s just drop it, okay.”

“Then let me close off this abomination of a conversation with this.  If God really cares about the things in my life and about me, then I can think of a much better way to spend a miracle than paying off Dean.”

It took me a moment to register his meaning, but the lights came on and I felt his frustration with God.  He wants a miracle to save Anna’s life – not his.

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Chapter seven, page three

After a much quieter meal than I expected, Stacie rose to leave.  “I’m worried about leaving you.”  She leaned over offering me a hug.

“I will be fine.  Call me tomorrow morning.”

Quinn piped in quickly.  “When you call the hotel, ask for Leslie Caron’s room.  And you will need-“

“Who’s Leslie Caron?”  Stacie budded in.

Quinn paused and gave her an incredulous look.  “Who is Leslie Caron?  What rock have you been living under here?”

Stacie shrugged.

“Not only is she a famous French actress but she is one of the best dancers to ever grace the stage.  She has danced with the likes of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly.”

“Oh.  Why did you pick that name?  Cathie can’t dance.”

Quinn turned his eyes laced with intrigue to me.  “Then I’ll teach her.” 

It was nice to finally be noticed in the conversation but his look unsettled my heart again.

“Whatever.”  Stacie stated as she headed for the door.

“Wait.”  Quinn called out.  “You will need more than a name to reach her.  We have a password set.”

Stacie turned tail with one hand on her hip.  “And it is?”

“You might want to write this down, Stacie.”  He said with a hint of mockery.

Her other hand came up to the opposite hip.  “Try me.  I have an amazingly good memory.”

“Okay.  Fourteen, fourteen, nine, twenty-one, seventeen.”

Stacie stood frozen for a moment and then stepped back to the table.  She plunked down her handbag and rifled through it looking for something.

Quinn gave me a knowing wink and pulled a pen out from the folder enclosing the food bill.

She reluctantly but aggressively snatched the pen from him.  “Say it again, please.”

“Would you like me to recite it in French?”

She glared at him without a sound.

He smirked and then spoke slowly.  “1...4...1...4...9...2...1...1...7”

After Stacie wrote the numbers down on the palm of her hand she turned to Quinn.  “Does that mean something special to you?”

Quinn nodded.  “It is my name in numbers spelled backwards.”

Stacie closed her eyes for a moment and her lips mumbled through something silently.  I wondered if she was spelling out her a,b,c’s to see if he was truthful.  Suddenly her eyes popped open and she waved.  “I don’t have time to figure that one out.  Bye.  And please stay out of trouble.”

I waved back as she strutted out the front door.  I turned to Quinn.  “You just have those numbers figured out off the top of your head?”

“No, it’s the password to practically everything I own.”  He shook his head as if to dislodge something.  “I can’t believe I just told that to a perfect st ...”

He stopped himself from finishing his thought.  So I finished it for him.

“A perfect stranger?”

Quinn ducked his head in disgrace.  “Sorry, Cherie.  I-“

“Never mind.”  I said as I stood.  Quinn tried to stop me but he missed as I marched out the front door of the cafe.

As I let the warm air outside fill my lungs I tried to slow the emotions down that flooded my body.

Quinn showed up behind me after a minute.  “Please wait for me.  Do not go.  I need to go back in and retrieve my credit card.  Please do not go anywhere.”

He disappeared back in the restaurant only after I gave him a weak nod.

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Good day readers!

Three days until Spring and this morning in our corner of the world there is white everywhere.  Again.

I just wanted to chat with you for a few minutes.  Today's page (below) and the next one coming are my favorite scenes in the book so far.  I hope you enjoy them too.  The banter between Quinn and Stacie makes me laugh.

Not to mention, things are going to start to get more complicated between Cathie and Quinn now.  Their characters are going to be faced with new decisions and opportunities to change. As we all know, change can be hard.

The same is true for authors.  The time in a story when your characters begin to change is challenging.  First you want to stay true to who the character is while showing their inner struggle.  Secondly, I  find it challenging not to let the character change too much too fast.

I am currently writing a section of this story where I am knee deep in these challenges.  I don't want to give it all away to you, but I will tell you this ... things are going to change for each of our main characters.  Cathie is faced with a major glitch in her plan to save Quinn.  She will be stretched to determine where she is in her grieving process and how much she is willing to give up for a new future.

Quinn on the other hand is going to wrestle with the biggest questions of all.  He is moving past the 'is this girl for real' and onto 'is God for real'.

Thanks for joining me on this journey.  Grab your seats and hold on because things are going to get a little different around here.

Happy reading!

Chapter seven, page two

Sitting at this little round table with Stacie’s probing questions and Quinn watching my every move I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.  What if this was the beginning of a future with Quinn?

The waiter arrived at our table with menus.  Stacie whipped hers open in a flash.  “You’re paying right?”

“Stacie!  How rude.” 

Quinn patted my hand gently.  “It’s alright.”  Then he turned to face Stacie as she perused her options.  “I would be delighted to treat you to this lunch.”

“Good.  I only think it's fair.  After all, if I am going to be shot at because of you, then I’d like to be compensated.”

I wanted to be crawl under the table, but Quinn only smiled deeper at her.  “That is a great life’s mantra, I’d say.  I think I’ll adopt it too.”

After a slight giggle from Stacie she continued on with her interrogation.  “So, you’re a baker?”

“No.  I am a business man.  My sister is a bakery chef.”

“Right, the sister who is ill?”

I kicked Stacie under the table but it deterred her none.

“How ill is she?” 

“Why don’t you ask your sister some of these questions?”  Quinn said with a hint of cynicism.

It caught me off guard.  “I-I don’t know much.  I...”

Stacie leaned over the table towards Quinn.  “Look we both know she knows things but she doesn’t know things.  I mean, she doesn’t know things but she thinks she knows things.  You know what I mean.”

Quinn watched her closely.  His elbow sat perched on the table and his chin in his hand.  He rubbed at his cheeks as if he was really trying to make sense of her babbling.

“I think I know what you mean.”  He finally added.  “What should we do about that?”

Stacie straightened in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest.  “For starters, you need to come clean with us.”

“I do, do I?”

“Well, yes.  The way I see it, you’ve put my sister’s life in great jeopardy.  And I don’t know if you realize that starry look in her eyes or not, but I think she likes you.”

 I cleared my throat.  “Excuse me, I am sitting right here.  Don’t talk about me.  Talk to me, please.”

Quinn and Stacie remained unnerved by my interruption.  They never took their eyes off of each other.

“You think she likes me?”  Quinn said animatedly.

The showdown had begun and I was powerless to stop it.  Stacie leaned back towards the table again, resting her chin on her folded hands.  The two of them sat intently squared off.

“Born?”

“London.”

“Raised there?”

“No.  At the age of three my father moved us to the Bedfordshire area.  Remained there until I left home at sixteen.”

“That sounds young to leave home?”

“I’d have left years before if it wasn’t for Anna.”  Quinn let out a disappointed breath.  “She’s five years younger.”

“Parents?”

“My mum died when I was twelve.”

“Dad alive?”

“Don’t know.”

Stacie gave him a startled look.

“Don’t care, either.  Are we done yet?  I would like to order.”

“Me too.”  I said hoping to relieve the tension.

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