The Passing Storm(3)
“Dad has owned the property since before I was born.” Asking him to leave was out of the question. The dense forest and the rolling acres were etched with memories—for both of them. Only one of those memories was too ghastly to revisit. The rest were sweet and good, and Rae couldn’t bear to leave them behind.
“Your father will adapt. You both will.”
Heartache tightened Rae’s throat. “Stop changing the subject.” Her anger flared, a protective shield. She was safe behind it. “Can we get back on point? Quinn’s getting careless with the trespassing. Or bold.”
“Quinn has lots of interesting qualities. ‘Bold’ isn’t one of them.”
“You may want to revise your opinion.” Rae dug into her coat pocket. “I found this.”
She withdrew a silk daisy like the ones on sale in the front of the store. Artistic flourishes had transformed the silk flower. Gold paint rimmed the petals. Glitter frosted the leaves. Glass beads were strung down the plastic stem. The beads rattled as she shook the offensive object before handing it over.
Yuna twirled the stem between her fingertips. “Give the kid credit. He does nice work.”
“His talent is beside the point. I found it inside the barn.”
“Wait. Since when does Quinn sneak into the barn?”
Uncertainty washed Rae’s stomach with acid. She didn’t check the barn regularly. This morning she’d only walked through after finding Quinn’s footprints near the building.
“You’re not sure if he’s gone inside before today?” Yuna pressed.
“I’m not. He doesn’t have to worry about expanding his reconnaissance—or startling animals in the barn. We sold them off right after the White Hurricane.”
The famous blizzard sixteen years ago remained a grim footnote in Geauga County’s history. The unprecedented winter storm was a harrowing experience for everyone who lived through it. For Rae and her father, the White Hurricane was especially tragic—the first in a series of events to irrevocably change their lives.
Yuna’s brows lifted. “Where was the flower?”
“Tied with florist’s wire to one of the stalls. There’s so much junk in the barn, it would’ve been easy to miss. Quinn must’ve stopped at my place before coming in to work for you.”
“He didn’t have school today.”
“So I gathered, from our brief conversation. I left the house early with Dad. We were gone for hours. I’m sure Quinn assumed I’d never notice the flower. Well, he was wrong.” Pausing, she lifted her accusing gaze. “Hit me with the truth, girlfriend. Are you encouraging him?”
“Of course not!”
“Are you sure? Because I want him to stop inserting himself into my life. I get that he’s coming onto my property because he has a lot to sort out. Too much, for a kid his age. He has lousy parents, the kind too selfish to help steer him through the loss. I get that, Yuna—I do. But I can’t make it my problem.”
“C’mon, Rae. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
The bright sting of tears stopped Rae from readying a defense. Better than most people, she knew just how awful Quinn’s parents were—once, she’d had the misfortune of crossing the Galeckis’ path. Ironically, she’d been the same age Quinn was now, a naive kid without the experience to understand the danger she’d put herself in.
“I see it differently,” she tossed back, aware that she couldn’t justify her actions without telling Yuna about that night. Which will never happen. I’ll never discuss it with anyone. Frustrated, she added, “Doesn’t Quinn have anything better to do with his free time?”
“We both agree Quinn isn’t a bad kid. He’s a seventeen-year-old who’s been through too much. Does it matter if he walks around the barn?”
“It matters to me—and to my dad. He’s retired and spends too much time worrying about the . . . reconnaissance. At least that’s how he sees it. If he catches the kid trespassing, he’ll blow a fuse. He’s not Quinn’s number one fan.”
“Maybe Connor needs to recharge his social life. Whatever happened to his geriatric homeboys? He hardly sees them anymore. At least you have diversions—working too many hours and driving me to distraction. On weekends, you both spend too much time cooped up in the house.”
Rae bristled. It was bad enough that Quinn worked part-time at the shop. A definite breach of her friendship with Yuna, although the reason for the act of charity was obvious. Yuna had given Quinn the job last November, a few weeks after his unnerving questioning by the PD. The officers had kept him on the hot seat for hours before releasing him—a grueling ordeal for any kid.
Under normal circumstances, Yuna’s charitable instincts were great. Rae also believed in fighting for the underdog. The two women had first grown close while volunteering at Chardon’s food bank, nearly a decade ago. The following year, they’d sealed their friendship by cochairing the committee tasked with expanding the local Meals on Wheels program for seniors.
The Galecki boy was different. Not only because of the startling facts Rae continued to resist. Not only due to the PD’s report, which she’d tossed into a forgotten drawer. Quinn was off-limits. The reasons were complicated, with roots deep in a seedbed of shame too dreadful to share.