the soup brought chilled nerves and circulation back to Quinn, he came out of his half-frozen trance.
“Did you know I was adopted?” Quinn asked.
“I didn’t know,” Rita said.
“Nor I. You didn’t just find out tonight?” Mal asked.
“No, I was about ten.”
“We’ve only been in Troublesome seven years. Quinn, if I had known something like that, I personally would have confronted your parents. Your mom was in it, too.”
“Nobody knows anything about my birth parents. The Church is all mixed up in it: secrets, lies, God’s will.”
“Well, that’s Church business. A priest once brought me back from hell. Win some, lose some. You’re too beat to talk. Stretch out. I’ll sit with you and maybe sing a little song or two.”
Quinn’s head fell on Mal’s chest, and he sobbed softly and allowed himself to be walked to a guest room, wishing at this moment for his dad.
He was damned near asleep by the time Rita turned down the lights, lit a candle and a night-light in the bathroom. Mal sang about a poor little dying dove. As he drifted, Quinn thought, where do the Mexicans get their magnificent voices?
Mal set his guitar aside and looked at Rita with a bit of apprehension. She adored Quinn, always had. At thirteen and counting, those galloping ovarian changes inside her—no way. Quinn would never take advantage of his lovesick puppy, despite her attributes.
Last summer Rita had tried to have Mal do a nude study of her. What the hell, they skinny-dipped with those who would and took hot tubs in the altogether. But as she posed, Mal couldn’t even look at his daughter. Both artist and model began laughing until they were hysterical. He burned the beginnings of the sketch and told her to come back after she’dhad a couple of kids.
“I’ll be turning in,” Mal said.
Rita fished for some kind of permission.
“Why don’t you sit with him for a while? Make sure he’s out for the night. Something terrible must have happened.”
“Thanks, Papa,” she said.
Oh, Quinn…flower of my heart…why is it you have never noticed me? Don’t leave our valley, Quinn. If you do, I’ll die…You’re going to belong to me someday, and I’ll take care of you. Nothing will ever hurt you again…
Chapter 10
UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO, BOULDER
The result of maternal rage happened fast. When Siobhan left to take her mother and sister to Europe, Dan got the message.
He prayed. He offered penance. He paid. He confessed. He felt like the dumbest cop in the universe.
He spoke by phone endlessly to Father Sean.
“Now, Dan, God’s finances are in relatively good order. You have got to make the gesture to Quinn.”
“I was thinking of sending him a Mustang—”
“Send yourself instead.”
Dan had felt badly for some things he had done as a cop and a Marine. Bullying from behind his stripes. In the past, a slap on the back and the problem was over.
But now? It sat like an undigested cabbage under his heart, day and night.
Siobhan brought her son a used Jeep and set up a moderate but ample bank account for Quinn to rent his own apartment. Enfolded by a peaceful campus unlike Kent State, he danced through two years of humanities courses, still wondering, as one is apt to do at that age, where the road was taking him.
The sting of the fight with his father faded somewhat, until the day that Dan entered a Boulder bar where Quinn worked one day a week covering for a pal.
Dan strode to the end of the bar, took a stool, and shoved the cowboy Stetson back on his forehead. “I’d like to talk to my son. If there was a millionways to say I’m sorry, I’m saying them now.”
“Coors?” Quinn asked.
“Lite.”
“You, Lite?” Quinn said.
“Fucking doctors.”
As Quinn wiped the bar, Dan’s hand shot out and covered Quinn’s. Quinn looked into a face that was beyond pleading.
“I’ll be off my shift in an hour,” Quinn said. “Why don’t we try the steak house?”
By the end of the evening,
“Did you know I was adopted?” Quinn asked.
“I didn’t know,” Rita said.
“Nor I. You didn’t just find out tonight?” Mal asked.
“No, I was about ten.”
“We’ve only been in Troublesome seven years. Quinn, if I had known something like that, I personally would have confronted your parents. Your mom was in it, too.”
“Nobody knows anything about my birth parents. The Church is all mixed up in it: secrets, lies, God’s will.”
“Well, that’s Church business. A priest once brought me back from hell. Win some, lose some. You’re too beat to talk. Stretch out. I’ll sit with you and maybe sing a little song or two.”
Quinn’s head fell on Mal’s chest, and he sobbed softly and allowed himself to be walked to a guest room, wishing at this moment for his dad.
He was damned near asleep by the time Rita turned down the lights, lit a candle and a night-light in the bathroom. Mal sang about a poor little dying dove. As he drifted, Quinn thought, where do the Mexicans get their magnificent voices?
Mal set his guitar aside and looked at Rita with a bit of apprehension. She adored Quinn, always had. At thirteen and counting, those galloping ovarian changes inside her—no way. Quinn would never take advantage of his lovesick puppy, despite her attributes.
Last summer Rita had tried to have Mal do a nude study of her. What the hell, they skinny-dipped with those who would and took hot tubs in the altogether. But as she posed, Mal couldn’t even look at his daughter. Both artist and model began laughing until they were hysterical. He burned the beginnings of the sketch and told her to come back after she’dhad a couple of kids.
“I’ll be turning in,” Mal said.
Rita fished for some kind of permission.
“Why don’t you sit with him for a while? Make sure he’s out for the night. Something terrible must have happened.”
“Thanks, Papa,” she said.
Oh, Quinn…flower of my heart…why is it you have never noticed me? Don’t leave our valley, Quinn. If you do, I’ll die…You’re going to belong to me someday, and I’ll take care of you. Nothing will ever hurt you again…
Chapter 10
UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO, BOULDER
The result of maternal rage happened fast. When Siobhan left to take her mother and sister to Europe, Dan got the message.
He prayed. He offered penance. He paid. He confessed. He felt like the dumbest cop in the universe.
He spoke by phone endlessly to Father Sean.
“Now, Dan, God’s finances are in relatively good order. You have got to make the gesture to Quinn.”
“I was thinking of sending him a Mustang—”
“Send yourself instead.”
Dan had felt badly for some things he had done as a cop and a Marine. Bullying from behind his stripes. In the past, a slap on the back and the problem was over.
But now? It sat like an undigested cabbage under his heart, day and night.
Siobhan brought her son a used Jeep and set up a moderate but ample bank account for Quinn to rent his own apartment. Enfolded by a peaceful campus unlike Kent State, he danced through two years of humanities courses, still wondering, as one is apt to do at that age, where the road was taking him.
The sting of the fight with his father faded somewhat, until the day that Dan entered a Boulder bar where Quinn worked one day a week covering for a pal.
Dan strode to the end of the bar, took a stool, and shoved the cowboy Stetson back on his forehead. “I’d like to talk to my son. If there was a millionways to say I’m sorry, I’m saying them now.”
“Coors?” Quinn asked.
“Lite.”
“You, Lite?” Quinn said.
“Fucking doctors.”
As Quinn wiped the bar, Dan’s hand shot out and covered Quinn’s. Quinn looked into a face that was beyond pleading.
“I’ll be off my shift in an hour,” Quinn said. “Why don’t we try the steak house?”
By the end of the evening,
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