“You’re the one who insisted we come,” he said, tilting his head to the side to avoid the flailing arm of his son.
“She keeps cancelling.” Janie lowered her voice. “You know how important it is to your parents that she come for Christmas.”
Quinn’s glare flickered to me, and then away. “She’s never going to come.”
“She might.” Janie’s gaze also moved to me, then narrowed thoughtfully. “How long have you two been together?”
“Just a few weeks.” I gave her an easy smile.
“You work at the shop, too?”
“I’m part owner.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Janie’s smile was tired. “I asked Ashley to set things up when she came up to visit us in September, when Desmond was born. I think she called your brother Jethro to help Shelly.”
“Do you know why Ashley called Jethro instead of just coming to Duane or me or Cletus instead?”
“At first, I asked about Shelly getting a job with the park service. I think that’s why your sister called Jethro. But then Jethro realized she’s a mechanic and brought her over to meet Cletus.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye snagged my attention. Desmond was grabbing Quinn’s nose and trying to pull it from his face. The big man then dipped his son back, kissed him on the neck, and made the baby giggle.
Shelly appeared again, drawing everyone’s gazes. She’d changed out of her running clothes, put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and was giving us an expectant look.
“Should we go?”
“Where?” Quinn asked, lifting an eyebrow at his sister.
“To Daisy’s Nut House for coffee and pancakes.”
“Oh.” Janie looked to her husband, then back to Shelly. “We brought food. We don’t need to go out.”
“You brought food?” Shelly’s face fell.
“Yes. Since we dropped in unannounced, I thought it made sense. We brought Italian beef from Al’s and pancakes for you from Giavani’s.” Janie gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sure we can share some of ours.”
Quinn grumbled something under his breath that I didn’t catch, but which earned him a sharp look from his wife.
“It’s okay.” I tried to ease her mind. “I can’t stay long. We have preparations for Jethro’s wedding and I need to get back to the house.”
“I could have cooked. I can cook.” Shelly seemed out of sorts at this news.
“Janie decided we should fly down today and surprise you.” Quinn’s voice was completely flat, which told me he didn’t agree with his wife’s highhanded approach.
“I know you don’t like surprises, but I’m not sorry.” Janie shook her head, her lips pressed into a flat line. “I wanted to see you. I haven’t been getting much sleep, and breastfeeding has been pretty hit and miss for me, so I might be making selfish decisions right now.”
For the first time since they arrived, Quinn’s stoic fa?ade broke and the corner of his mouth tugged upward.
Janie turned to me. “There is no consensus regarding whether or not sleep deprivation falls under the Geneva Convention as a form of torture. But if it did, our son would be guilty of it.”
* * *
I ended up staying longer than I intended. Shelly was acting funny and I worried about her. Neither Quinn nor Janie had offered to let her hold Desmond, but I caught her looking at the baby a few times with unconcealed longing.
It was giving me heartburn.
However, I had an idea, and that’s why I stayed. Shelly had told me weeks ago that her brother didn’t know about her diagnosis, nor did he understand the nature of her touch aversion. He likely thought she didn’t like to be touched, period.
If I could get Quinn alone for a minute, I thought I could explain how Shelly had difficulty initiating touch, but if the baby touched her first, then she’d be able to hold him. Or, if Quinn touched her first, she’d be able to give her brother a hug.
I kept looking for an opportunity to act on my idea, but no such opportunity presented itself. And this was because every single second was predicated in tension.
Tension between Quinn and Shelly, Quinn and me, Quinn and Janie. The man was angry, it was easy to see. But more than that, he was frustrated.
When he’d move close to his sister, she’d recoil. Now I knew Shelly did this because she didn’t want to accidentally touch him. Or touch Desmond when Quinn was holding him. But her shrinking away only increased his exasperation.
For her part, Shelly seemed to be picking up on Quinn’s mood and I spotted her pressing her thumbnail into her wrist. And that made me tense. Plus, I got the sense she was trying to build her courage, endeavoring to talk herself into doing something important.
I wanted to be there for her, hold her tools and whatnot, but I was at a loss for what to do. So I stayed, trying to lighten the mood when I could.
“I’ve been watching a lot of documentaries about breakthroughs in medical science since I’ve been home with Desmond,” Janie said cheerfully, her voice softer now that Desmond was asleep in her arms. “Did you know Paul Winchell, the voice of Tigger in The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, also invented an artificial heart?”
We were presently sitting at the kitchen table. I’d split Shelly’s pancakes with her and Janie had insisted I try her Italian beef. Glancing around the table, I realized I was the only one who’d eaten.
“And ketchup was sold as medicine in the eighteen hundreds.” Janie gave me a little smile. “Which, I guess if you think about it, is safer than bleed—”
“I have to tell you something,” Shelly blurted, pushing her plate away and covering her face with her hands.
Quinn glanced at his wife, then to his sister. “What?”
“I did something terrible to you.” Shelly straightened in her seat, giving her eyes to her brother. “And Mom and Dad.”
“What are you talking about?” Quinn made a face. “Is this about hugging?”
“No. After Des died, I didn’t go to the funeral. I was in Chicago.”
“I know.” He shrugged, like this was all in the past and he wanted to leave it there. “I was at the funeral.”
“Yes. You were. And Mom yelled at you, said you were responsible for Des’s death, remember?”
Quinn’s eyes darted to me, then back to his sister. “Do we need to discuss this now?”
“Yes. We do. Because I’m having a moment of clarity, and I don’t know how long it’ll last.” Her chin started to wobble, but she stopped it.
“I’ll go.” I stood to leave, to give them some privacy.
But Shelly looked to me and in her eyes I saw her begging me to stay. “You should hear this too, so you know what I’m like.”
“What you were like,” Janie corrected softly. “You’ve changed, Shelly. You’re so different. You offered me coffee and took my bag when we came in.”