At First Touch (24 page)

Wyatt thought of Quinn, and his smile instantly disappeared. “Mom, this is a lot to think about. I don't think we should make such a rash decision—”

“It's not rash. And what's there to think about? We can't stay here, living like this forever. I want you to be happy, son. I want you to make mistakes. Try new things. After all, even if it means you leaving Sibleyville, we know better than anyone, Wyatt, how short life really is.”

Wyatt flinched as the mark hit home. He thought about his life the last few years. The monotonous cycle of waking up, going to sleep, dreading people dying, the occasional fainting. And throughout everything, he had been followed by loneliness and fear. Maybe the two emotions even went hand in hand. Only a scared man would reject Quinn Sibley. Or a really stupid one.

“Quinn is a good girl, Wyatt,” she said softly, almost as if she had been reading his thoughts. “You're going to be very happy with her, if you allow yourself to be. It was seeing you with her these last few days that made me finally come to grips with the mess I've made.”

“You did not make a mess. I did that on my own. And Quinn is…great, but she's not exactly Sibleyville wife material.”

“And why not?” Beatrice demanded.

Wyatt's eyes widened in surprise. “Weren't you vowing never to allow
that woman
to step foot in your house just a few days ago?”

“That was before she told me in no uncertain terms that she loved my son and that there was nothing I could do about it.”

Wyatt almost thought his mother was smiling at the memory. But he couldn't believe that. He also couldn't believe that Quinn was walking around in one piece after telling his mother that piece of news.

“When did this happen?”

“Right after Mrs. Woods' funeral. I think I actually like her, Wyatt. Much better than I thought I would. And I think she can handle me. Anyway, if you think that Dorrie makes better Sibleyville wife material than Quinn, then you haven't been paying attention to who Sibleyville wives are. They're not shrinking violets and they're not quiet women. They stand beside their husbands and they fight to protect what's theirs. That's sounds a lot like Quinn to me.”

Wyatt laughed and shook his head, suddenly feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“We're really going to do this.”

Beatrice beamed at him. “Yes we are,” she said. She stood and began to clear away the dishes.

The doorbell rang and for a moment his heart sped up enough to practically leap from his chest. Maybe it was Quinn. He hoped it was Quinn, because his mother was right. It was time to start cleaning up his messes.

Wyatt ran through the house and opened the door, prepared to beg for forgiveness or pay for forgiveness. Whatever. Except it wasn't Quinn on the other side of the door. It was Angus Affleck.

Angus stared at Wyatt uncertainly, then took off his creased and worn cowboy hat. Wyatt had to admit that he liked seeing Angus nervous, but that lasted about two seconds. Angus was a good man, and Wyatt was glad that his mother had someone.

“Come in,” Wyatt said, with a big show of reluctance.

Angus walked into the house and Wyatt closed the door. The two men stared at each other. Sized each other up.

“I guess your mother finally told you,” Angus muttered, ducking Wyatt's gaze.

“I guess,” Wyatt said, fighting back his smile.

“I wanted her to tell you sooner, Wyatt, but she—”

Wyatt abruptly laughed and the dread eased from Angus's face and turned into irritation.

He swatted at Wyatt with his hat. “You spoiled brat,” he accused.

“You old country hick,” Wyatt shot back, still laughing. “You could have told me. Two years?”

“Beatrice said not to, and you've lived with her long enough to know that no one challenges her. Not even me,” Angus said with a bashful lift of his shoulders.

“Boys, come eat some dessert,” Beatrice called from the back room.

Angus swatted at Wyatt with his hat again, then hurried toward the dining room. Wyatt stared after them for a moment, then smiled at their sound of their mingled laughter. Life never did make any promises. It was the first lesson most morticians learned, but Wyatt had missed that one. And now he had a feeling that it was too late.

Q
uinn took a deep breath, then knocked on the door of the trailer parked in front of the Sibley house, the next morning.

“What!” came Helmut's enraged bark.

Quinn walked into the trailer, not surprised to find Helmut hunched over a laptop at the table in the middle of the cramped surroundings. Most of the cast and crew had gone home for the holidays, but had been slowly trickling back into work that morning. She would have believed it if Helmut had spent the past two days hunched over his laptop doing more rewrites. She hadn't thought to knock on the trailer door to see if anyone was left.

“What do you want?” Helmut demanded, glaring at her. “Shouldn't you be memorizing your lines since you've shown an innate ability to forget them at precisely the most inconvenient moment?”

“Helmut, I quit.” She briefly wondered if he had heard her since he didn't instantly react. She tried again, “Helmut, I'm quitting the movie. I'm going back to L.A.”

Helmut's chubby fingers stopping moving across the keyboard. He glanced at the trailer ceiling and muttered, “Why are the pretty ones always the most dramatic?” He turned to her and said in a monotone, “No, no, Quinn. Please don't quit. There, I have begged you. You are invaluable. Now, go get ready for rehearsals this afternoon.”

“This isn't a ploy for attention. I'm quitting.” When he only continued to stare at her blankly, she explained, “I'm going back to Los Angeles tomorrow. One of the few friends I have left in this industry has a small part on a TV sitcom he's directing. Second best friend from the right. The actress who read for the part broke her arm in a tragic in-line skating accident.

“Believe me, Helmut, I'm as surprised as you that I'm going to do this. After I left
Diamond Valley
, I turned up my nose at doing any type of TV, but filming this movie made me realize how…how much I really don't want to make movies. Especially depressing ones like this. I like making people laugh and giving them an escape. It's why I act—”

“You ungrateful little bitch,” Helmut exploded, jumping to his feet. “You are nothing in this industry! No one touched you until I came along! And you want to know why? Because you're nothing! Nothing but a pair of fake titties!”

“Well, since I'm such a talentless hack, as you described me the other day, I'm sure whoever you find will be much better than I am.”

“You signed a contract,” he retorted smugly. “I own you.”

“Actually, I didn't sign a contract,” she said with a feigned “whoops” air. “You told me that you wouldn't give me one to sign until I got the deal sealed on the location, and I guess with all the excitement, everyone forgot.”

“You will never work in this town again. I will make sure of it!”

“Much bigger and better people have said that to me, Helmut. And I'm still here.” As his face grew more and more red, she smiled. “Good luck on your movie.”

She waved, then walked out the trailer. She would probably never get that Oscar, but it was almost worth it to put that Napoleon in his place. She walked back across the yard to the house, planning to follow her vow to be more adult as soon as she finished relaying the story to Kendra.

 

“Are you sure you can't wait to leave until after New Year's?” Charlie whined as Quinn shoved her last suitcase in the trunk of her car.

Quinn slammed the trunk closed, then turned to Charlie, Graham and Kendra. She really was tempted to stay another few days, but if she ran into Wyatt, her heart wouldn't be able to handle it.

“I wish I could, but filming starts in two days and I need to learn my lines,” Quinn said truthfully.

“I'm just glad you finally told Helmut to shove it,” Kendra said, then moaned in pain and placed both hands on her stomach. “I think I just alluded to food. I'm going to be sick.”

Quinn laughed. Charlie sniffed and hugged Quinn. “Drive safely. We'll see you in L.A.”

“I checked the tires and oil. Remember to take it slow on the highway. Cops love to patrol during the holidays,” Graham warned, hugging her.

Quinn waved as Charlie and Graham walked back into the house. She turned to Kendra, who was watching her closely through bloodshot eyes.

“Now, are you going to tell me what is really going on,” Kendra demanded.

“I told you, the sitcom—”

“Who's making TV right now in the middle of the holidays? Even TV actors get the holidays off.”

Quinn sighed heavily, then leaned against the car. “I can't risk running into Wyatt.”

“You two make me so tired. What happened now?”

“He doesn't have any faith in me, and he never will. He told me that it was better to end things now before I grew tired of him. Of course I'd grow tired him. I don't know any couple that doesn't grow tired of each other at some point, but I love him. I don't feel complete without him. But he doesn't believe me. He said that I only think that I love him. He thinks I'm deluding myself into thinking I love him because I'm stuck here in Sibleyville without any other options.” Quinn cursed as tears spilled from her eyes. “I've waited my entire life for him, Kendra, without even knowing that I was waiting for him. To think that he dismisses it all as the ramblings of a woman-child. No man has ever hurt me the way this man has.”

“The condescending jerk. He doesn't deserve you,” Kendra said fiercely, wrapping her arms around Quinn.

“I told him that.”

“Good for you.”

“I want to hate him. I want to think ‘good riddance.' But, I can't,” Quinn whispered. “I want him in my life. I was willing to commute to L.A. from Sibleyville.”

Kendra's eyes widened in disbelief. “Really,” she whispered, amazed.

“I have never lost myself before, Kendra, but I was willing to lose myself in him. I still am.”

“Oh, Quinn,” Kendra said softly, stroking her hair. “I'm so sorry.”

Quinn allowed herself to be comforted for a moment, then stood and wiped at her tears and smoothed down her hair. “But, I'm not going to. I remembered something the other night. I'm pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. I moved to New York at eighteen years old, and I survived. I can do it again.”

“I know you can,” her sister said, squeezing her hand.

“But, I can't see Wyatt again.”

“I understand. Do you want me to come with you? We could have fun. Wreaking havoc on L.A. On Charlie and Graham's big ol' house.”

Quinn smiled, but shook her head. “I need to lick my wounds. Regroup. The sitcom films in two weeks, and I need to be ready.”

Kendra hugged Quinn and said, “You're going to be okay, Quinn. I promise.”

Quinn wanted to believe her sister, but she couldn't. Because no matter how much she regrouped or licked her wounds, she would never recover from loving Wyatt.

 

Wyatt looked up from digging in the flower bed in front of the mortuary and quickly shot to his feet when he saw Kendra. Or, at least, he thought it was Kendra. He had never seen her outside of her exercise clothes or some type of expensive, too-tight suit. This Kendra wore jeans and a sloppy sweatshirt and a baseball cap. Either way, Wyatt did not want to be on his knees in front of her. There was no telling what she might do.

Kendra stared him for a moment, then snorted in disgust. Wyatt stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, then asked nervously, “Is there something you wanted, Kendra?”

Since Kendra declined to answer, Wyatt said, “I'm getting the house ready for the film crew. They'll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Quinn left town this morning,” she finally said.

Blood drained from his face. It was already too late. “What?”

“If you cared so much, why are you here playing in the dirt?”

“I didn't know she was leaving. I thought she was supposed to be filming the movie here for the next five weeks. That and I was kind of working up the nerve to talk to her. She was not exactly happy the last time I saw her.” Wyatt hesitated then muttered more to himself than Kendra.

“So, you thought you'd mosey over to her at some point in the next five weeks and apologize for acting like an ass?” Kendra demanded.

“Not exactly, but—”

“My sister was crying over you,” she spat out. “Crying! Over you!”

Wyatt averted his gaze, as his heart broke a little more. He thought it hurt to see Quinn crying. It hurt even more to hear that she had been crying from someone else.

“I'll never forgive you for that,” Kendra informed him. “Quinn probably will because she's crazy in love with you. But fifty years from now, when you two are surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I'll still be giving you hell for making her worry about your love for her.”

Wyatt started to speak but Kendra cut him off.

“Shut up,” she snapped, then demanded, “Do you love my sister?” He stared at her in response. She prodded, annoyed, “Do you?”

“I thought I was shutting up.”

“Don't get cute with me, Granger. Do you love Quinn or not?”

“I do,” he said, softly.

“Are you threatened by her career?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “I want the best for her. Whether that's an Oscar, returning to
Diamond Valley
, whatever it is she wants, that's what I want for her.”

“Are you going to turn into a jealous prick every time a man looks at her?”

“No. She's gorgeous. Who wouldn't look at her?”

“Do you think she's just a pretty face?”

“God, no. She's one of the sweetest, most loyal and courageous people I've ever known.”

“Good,” Kendra said simply, then snarled, “then get your act together and win her back.”

Wyatt coughed over his surprise. “It's not that easy, Kendra.”

“Why?”

He was suddenly speechless. He always had the mortuary to fall back on. He couldn't leave Sibleyville because of the mortuary. But if he and Beatrice had their way, there wouldn't be a mortuary anymore. Or if there was, it wouldn't have the Granger name on it.

“Because I'm scared,” he admitted, more to himself than to Kendra.

Kendra's expression softened. A fraction. “Believe it or not, Wyatt, I know how you feel. I'm scared too. I haven't told my sisters, but I'm having financial problems. I have less than nothing and probably at the end of the month the only place I'll have to live is this town. I'm scared as hell.”

“I'm sorry, Kendra. If you need anything—”

“I didn't tell you that because I want your sympathy,” she snapped. She took several deep breaths and Wyatt was amazed to see tears fill her eyes. “I'm telling you this because I don't want you to end up like me. For most of my adult life, I used work to block out everyone and everything. I can look at you and see that you do the same thing. But now you have a chance, a real chance, to grab hold of life. Quinn is one of the bravest people I know. If you're scared, just hold on to her. She'll help you through it.”

Wyatt stared at her wordlessly. Kendra shrugged and muttered, “I said what I have to say.”

She turned to Graham's Porsche parked on the street, but Wyatt stopped her.

“You're not alone, Kendra. You have your sisters, you have Graham and you have me. I mean it.”

She smiled at him, but kept walking to the car. Wyatt watched her leave, then turned to stare at the mortuary. Kendra was right, his mother was right. Even Graham was right. Wyatt had to start taking control of his own life. He had to offer Quinn everything she was offering him. And then he smiled. Because he suddenly had a plan.