Quinn

My worst fears were realized. Quinn was gone.

Her luggage had been taken out of the walk-in closet in the spare room and filled with her possessions. I found an empty house that appeared as if it had been turned upside down when she left in a rush. With Quinn gone, the empty house only had music to fill it.

"It's so hard to be without you

Lying in the bed, you are so much to be without"

I recognized the song and the guitar sounds. The music was Quinn's playlist. Ryan Adam's. I was certain.

On the counter-top, the same granite slab where we had made love on more than one occasion, I found her letter. A letter that was addressed to me. My hands trembled as I picked up the sheet of paper and read. Her words explained to me how after talking with her father, she reconsidered, and determined that moving back to NYC and putting the baby up for adoption was what was best for all parties involved. Her words seemed strange and contrary to anything that we had ever discussed about parenthood, but there they were, in my hand. Written on the paper in front of me, for me to see with my own eyes.

"Everything you lose, the wisdom will find its way out"

I finished the letter and in disgust, I crumpled it up, then threw it in the trash, only to retrieve it and read it again.

"It's so hard to be without you

Used to feel so angry, and now only I feel humble"

That fucking song. It was playing on loop in the background. Why?

"When everything was new and colorful, it's gotten darker

Every day's a lesson, things were brighter before

Nothing really matters anymore"

Quinn's playlist was on her phone. If she was gone, why was the song still playing? Where was her phone?

The paper felt weird in my hands as I read the letter for the third time. There was something about it. It wasn't from here. I didn't have anything that matched it. My mind churned. Where did it come from? I couldn't put my finger on it, but I finally put the crumpled sheet flat on the countertop and thought hard. It was close, really fucking close, but not close enough.

My feet didn't touch a step as I jumped from the porch and raced to the car. In a frantic effort to find what I was looking for, I started pulling papers from the console, until I held what I wanted in my hand.

"Daniel, you son-of-a-fucking-bitch." I tried his number. I called and I text. He had blocked both.

It wasn't her handwriting, none of it was. Quinn used a more feminine touch, flowing with big round letters, even when writing out her shopping list she took time to make it presentable. Her handwriting was evident on the same list that I held in my hand. Holding her list and the letter side by side, you could tell that they were written by 2 different people.

Bruce must have thought that the world had gone mad. I was once again running. There was a pair of spots that I needed to check. Places that would help me to confirm my suspicions.

My room told the tale. Quinn had left most of her belongings hanging in the spare room, because she didn't like sharing my "small" closet, but from the day we first made love, she kept things close by that were special to her. Yes, she kept some things in my room, and there they still were.

The second stop was the laundry. As Quinn's belly expanded, she had limited things that she wore or as she claimed, "fit her", so they were frequently in the wash. And today, the dryer was full of a dried load of her cloths, including some of my shirts that she had stolen from me.

"I feel empty, I feel tired, I feel worn

Nothing really matters anymore"

That fucking song. As much as I like it, it was wrong. Some things did matter, and I was about to go and get what mattered most.

The 17-hour drive to Connecticut seemed more like 3 days. Tired and angry, my mind raced as every fence and telephone post whizzed by the truck window. At times I wondered out loud if I was doing the right thing. What if Quinn had changed her mind? What if she had actually did want to go back home? Either way, with no way to contact other than face to face I continued on. I needed to find out for myself.

Pulling up in front of a house that I hadn't been to in many years brought back a lot of memories. Like Daniel, I had grown up in Greenwich, just not in this neighborhood. As Daniel likes to boast, "it's the priciest zip code in Connecticut". The old brick home with manicured lawns was enough to give away that money lived inside, but when you looked at the Range Rover and Ferrari out front, there was no way you could mistake it.

I knocked. No one answered, so I knocked again. After the third knock, I knew that no one was planning on opening the door.

I was never one to cause a scene or to create a disturbance or a ruckus, but today was a different day. A new me stood outside the huge oak door that was holding something behind it. Something that I loved dearly. Standing back from the door, I kicked it hard enough to rattle the frame and let anyone inside know that I was there.

"Open it Danny, or I'll kick the fucking thing in." Most anyone that was outside in the neighboring yards, was now looking in my direction. Another kick. "Open it or I'll call the cops and have you charged with kidnapping." Now everyone was looking my way, they were paying attention.

Before my next kick, the door slowly opened. A woman in her late 50's stood to the side. Her hand was out as if waving me in. By her attire, she was easily distinguished as one of "the help".

"Mister Cooke, is in the study."

"Quinn?" I asked. The maids head looked down the foyer hall. She was trying to see if her boss was within earshot.

In a whisper, "Upstairs." Her long slender finger pointing toward the ceiling so that only I could see it.

Daniel was seated in a leather chair behind his huge desk. His phone was out in the open. and the screen was still lit. With a huge "shit eating" grin he looked down his nose at me.

"You wasted gas money coming here Robby, she's not going anywhere."

"That's fine. I'll leave as soon as she tells me so."

"She's not here, so you'll have to take my word on that." The grin was getting bigger.

"Well, we both know that that's not going to happen. Your phone is right there, call her up. When she tells me, I'll leave, and you'll never see me again."

"You wasted you time asshole. You made a long trip for nothing."

"Not really. I wanted to see the old town again. Maybe I'll go out for a couple of beers tonight and remind everyone we know what a huge piece of shit you are." Daniel scowled at my words and waited for a second to collect himself.

"Come on Rob, do you think you can give her what I can? Can you give her what she wants? Look at her, she's Park Avenue all the way. Christ, she's always had nothing but the best. She walks on streets paved with gold. You think she's gonna be happy living in the bayou's, walking dirt roads and driving a fucking pick-up truck?"

"We have cars in Missouri."

"I know that you fucking asshole. I was making a goddamn point." His hand slamming the table.

"If you're making a point, make it worthwhile. Call her. Have her tell me herself, so I can be on my way."

"What, do you think this is love? No, Robby. It was just a fling. Yeah, she told me all about it. A tawdry affair with, of all people, your own niece. Do either of you even know what love is? She's too young and stupid to know what love is. I promise you that."

"Well, I bet you've shown her a great example of what love is. And yeah, she's my niece, who happens to be your daughter, Daniel."

"Don't judge me you fuckin hypocrite. You're a piece of shit Rob. She's your own fucking niece. I did it once by mistake. But you, you fucking knew from the start. For Christ's sake, do the right thing here." Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed.

"I'm not sinking to your level Danny. There's so much that I could say, but what purpose would it serve? I love her, and she loves me. Nobody, not even you, can stand between us. So, don't even try to." I said, keeping my tone down, which made him even more angry.

I heard a loud thud and a bang in the hallway and went to see what it was. Daniel's maid was helping Quinn down the stairs with her luggage. There were no longer 2 bags. No, they had multiplied. 4 large suitcases and a pair of small ones stood by the door.

"Took you long enough to get here." Her words came out through tiny sobs.

"Yeah, well you know how much I like fishing, and they were biting. So, I figured that you could wait a while for me to get here."

"Jerk." Her belly bump pushed into me as she wrapped her arms over my neck. She moved her head as to show me all of her luggage. "I hope you brought the truck."

I had brought the truck, and it took me 3 trips to load all of the precious merchandise. The first load was helping Quinn down the long stone walkway, to the street. The last 2 loads were for her things. All the while Daniel stood out of sight, but he talked shit the entire time.

The last thing that I heard him says was, "This ain't over Robby", but it was. Daniel had too much to lose if the news ever got out. It would be the demise of his relationship with his girlfriend client, and a lot of his other connections, and I gladly pointed as much out to him. No, I knew my brother, he took his shot and missed. That would be it. Now he would go into personal damage control. If it ever came up, he would have a very solid alibi.

The front tires of the F350 hopped the curb and clawed over the manicured front lawn as I pulled a U-turn and headed back toward the highway. Leaning on her pillow, Quinn just stared at me as I drove.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing really."

But there was something, so I pulled to the shoulder.

"Tell me." Her glossy eyes turned away, and in a timid whisper, I heard her say.

"I wasn't sure that you would come for me."

I was going to make another joke about fishing or some other stupid thing, but now wasn't the right time. The hurt in her piercing blue eyes told me as much.

"You always say not to say it unless I mean it, well, I do mean it. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in my life, ever." Her hand found the back of mine, and she squeezed. "Quinn, you need to know that I will always be there for you, and I will always try my best to never let you down. So, you better get used to me telling you that I love you, because I plan on doing it daily."

She nodded silently and squeezed even harder on my hand. She knew how much I loved her. Even if what we had was wrong, nothing had ever felt so right.

I pulled the truck back onto the roadway and headed south-west. We were going home.

"Do you know what I'm looking forward to?" Quinn broke the silence as the tires hummed along the highway pavement.

"Tell me."

"I can hardly wait to curl up on the sofa and read a book with the fireplace heating the room."

It as a visual that I could see in my head, and it made me happy.

When the sun came up on that Sunday morning, I knew that today was the day. Quinn had barely slept a wink the night before. She was restless and grouchy. She had in fact been a bit of a bear the whole week, but today was different. Today she was very uncomfortable. So, doing what I did best, I tried to make her happy.

Pulling her giant island into the water just off of our dock, I lifted Quinn onto the raft and set her up in the shade with an iced tea.

"You need anything else?"

"Just you. Stay with me."

Shaking my head, and giving her a, "I'll be right back", I headed back to the house. I was going to get a few things to try and make her more at ease. I wasn't even gone 10 minutes when I heard her yelling my name. The longer it took me to respond, the louder it got. Finally, I went out onto the porch and looked down to the lake.

"What? I be there in a minute."

She was sitting up, looking for me.

"My water broke."

"Your what?" I was alright heading to the dock. Running to her. Phone in hand, I was dialing the hospital at the same time. "Are you sure? I mean you were sitting in a puddle to begin with." Her head tilted in a "don't even question me" look.

"Rob, oh my god. It's time."

"You're ready, baby. You're about to be the hottest mommy in the world." Quinn smiled at me until her very first contraction took over.

My call had gone directly to Quinn's doctors voice mail, but surprisingly, she called us back less than 5 minutes later. Dr. Naumov gave me instructions and told me not to worry or rush. Easy for her to say. She had done this about a thousand times more than we had.

Helping Quinn out of her swimsuit, I pulled a floral summer dress over her head and ran a brush through her wet hair. Slipping on a pair of flip flops, she was ready to go. Finally, I grabbed that hospital bag she had packed and re-packed, over and over again.

The next few hours flew by in a blur. It was a maze of sights and sounds. Hospital gowns and face masks surrounded us at every corner. Metal tools clanging on steel trays. The continuous beeping of hospital equipment that had no name. Bloody handfuls of gaze and cotton being dropped to the floor. The sounds of screams. The sounds of laughter. And at last, the sound of a baby crying. The sound of the world being filled with another bundle of joy.

A delivery room nurse put a tightly wrapped package into my arms. Quinn looked at me with flush cheeks. She had been a champ the entire time, but it was evident that she was so tired. It had been the longest day of her life, and she was drifting in and out, as sleep tried its best to steal her away.

"Sleep baby, I'll be right here." I told her.

It was late when I left the hospital, but both her and the baby needed to rest.

Alone it the kitchen of the house Bruce whined as I filled his dinner bowl. It felt odd to be here without Quinn. It was as if something was missing in my life. I turned on the speaker and pushed play on my phone. I needed some music.

"It's so hard to be without you

Lying in the bed, you are so much to be without"

Are you fucking kidding me? I hadn't heard this song since the day Quinn was taken away, and now, by some weird karma, here it was playing for me again, on the first night that she is staying in the hospital. It would be a long, lonely time until I picked her up on Wednesday morning. So, I swiped the icon and made the music stop. There was no need to be reminded of the solitude that I faced.

The sun didn't beat me on the morning when I headed to the hospital to pick up my family. We were ready. Everything had been well planned and was ready for the baby. You couldn't have more prepared if you were a Boy Scout. Diapers, wipes, clothes, a crib and a pantry full of assorted foods. We had chairs that rocked. Chairs that sat still. Chairs that swung. Chairs that went into vehicles. We had them all. There was enough sheets and blankets that if you didn't want to, you wouldn't have to do laundry for a month. Yeah, we were ready.

It was strange, in a loving way, when Quinn carried Rhylee Harper Cooke into her new home. Bruce did something that I had never witnessed him do before. He stood on his back legs and begged for a better look at the new addition to the family. His stub tail wagging 90 miles an hour. Quinn, being far braver than I was, bent down to let him give her a look and a sniff. We were one big happy family.

As far as days went, this one was a good one. As far as evenings went, this was the best one so far.

Together as a family, we sat in silence on the soft, cushions of the large wooden porch swing and drifted freely in the cool evening breeze. Cuddled as one, covered by a large king-sized, antique quilt that Quinn had purchased at a Flea Market. My arm over Quinn's shoulder as she held Rhylee to her chest. We watched the colorful sunset sinking below the horizon, giving the trees a shimmering, pinkish silhouette.

It may have been the first time the three of us spent an evening on the porch as a family, but it would be what was to become the first of many.