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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