As You Turn Away (The Walker Boys) (12 page)

“Hey Dad…Mother.”

“Sweetheart, you were amazing!” Her dad held out his arms, and Quinn walked into his hug.

He was working such long hours, and traveling out of town some days for court; she felt like they never spent time together anymore. Dinners were usually a tense affair with her mother, unless Darren stopped by to eat with them. If he brought Lila, her mother was usually civil, but if it was just Darren, the atmosphere was frosty at best. For whatever reason, her mother didn’t get along any better with her cousin than she did with Quinn.

In the year and a half she’d been dating Jonah, her parents had never softened toward him. Her dad would actually talk to him when he came to the house to pick her up, but her mother wanted nothing to do with him. She often and vocally let Quinn know how she felt, but it didn’t change how Quinn felt about Jonah. Jonah was good for her.  He was her sanity, and one of her best friends.

“Thanks, Dad.” She beamed at him, but when she pulled back, she couldn’t help but notice her mother was half-turned away from her. She probably couldn’t wait to leave.

A movement off to the side caught Quinn’s attention. Jonah was waiting patiently for her, dressed in nice slacks, a collared shirt, and a suit jacket that he almost filled out. It must have been Reece’s or his dad’s, and knowing he’d made the extra effort to look nice for the performance tonight made her grin. Between her first solo, her father’s praise, and Jonah, nothing could bring her down tonight.

“I’m going to go out with Jonah. Is that okay? We won’t be out late.”

Her mother made a clucking sound, face still averted. “You know how we feel about you seeing that boy, Quinnlan. He’s a bad influence on you, although the way you conduct yourself lately, I don’t know if you even care anymore.”

Her father squeezed her hand, and then kissed her cheek. “It’s fine, Quinn. Be home by one though, please.”

She smiled at him again, kissed her fingertips, and then placed them on his cheek. Even though things in her home were strained, it made her feel so light to see her dad at least trying again. She gave him a quick hug and then strolled over to Jonah. She linked her hand with his, feeling more at home with him than she ever did anywhere except onstage.

Jonah’s steps faltered as he reached the simple headstone. There was no huge monument, but there was no need. The man who lay here would have quietly protested anyone making a fuss over his grave. One of the lessons William Walker taught Jonah was never to fear death. He claimed that if a person lived a good, full life, and loved with all their heart, death wasn’t anything to be concerned about. Jonah remembered Sunday mornings spent in watching wood shavings peel away and fall off whatever his grandpa was carving, or a calm lake, fishing poles lined up and waiting for a bite.

His headstone reflected his beliefs. “William Walker, beloved father, husband, and grandfather. He loved and was loved,” was etched into the stone, followed by his birth and death dates. The longer Jonah stared at the words, the more they pressed into him. He hunkered down and reached out to trace the letters he knew so well.

“Hey, Papa,” he whispered.

Instead of holding them back, Jonah let his tears fall. Each tear felt as though it was wrung from his soul as he let out what he’d held in for so very long. He couldn’t ignore the sorrow this time like so many others. He couldn’t hide from the guilt. He had to own it, and to find a way to grow from it.

The sun blazed around him as he leaned his head against his papa’s grave. Jonah saw himself and his grandfather sitting in the porch swing, Jonah’s short legs struggling to push it. Saw his granddad showing him how to choke up on a bat and follow through on a swing. Saw the first disastrous driving lesson in the middle of one of their fields, when Jonah stalled the old farm truck, and Papa Bill just laughed and told him he’d done the same thing as a kid.

Jonah opened his eyes, and eased into a sitting position. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here before now.” The words felt minuscule, and he wondered if he could find the right ones to express everything. “I should have come here the first day I got home, but I wanted to see everyone, and try to explain why I stayed gone. But the truth is, I should have come home a long time ago. I left in anger, and I stayed away because I was so
mad
at myself, and at Quinn. It all got so tangled up in my mind—me, Quinn, home, and the reasons I was mad.”

Even though there was no one else around him, Jonah paused. There was a difference in confessing his sins to his grandfather’s grave, and in telling strangers. He returned his attention to the headstone, wishing his grandfather was here with him to call him an “idjit,” or tell one of his stories that always taught a lesson Jonah or one of his brothers was in need of hearing.

“I think we’re going to be okay,” he continued. “Ma and Pop and I are on good terms. Ethan and I have been workin’ together a lot. That kid…” Jonah smiled. “You’d be so proud of him, Papa. I think he may be the best one of us three boys. I’ve been spending time with him every day, and I know that won’t fix everything overnight, but I think he’s starting to trust me again. I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

He plucked at a few pieces of grass, then let them sift through his fingers. “Reece and I are still at odds. We talk, but we haven’t cleared the air yet, even though I know we need to. I know on some level he’s still mad I left.”

Jonah tried to imagine anything other than the disappointed look his grandfather would be giving him if he were here. “I know. You’d tell me I deserved to have my ass kicked for staying mad at him. It’s immature, and I’m trying so damned hard to leave all that anger and hurt behind me.” Jonah ran a hand through his hair, tumbling too-long strands about his face. “I’ll work on it, I promise.”

He missed so many things about his grandfather, but one of the main things was the clarity he always felt after one of their long talks. Usually that meant Jonah did all the talking, with his granddad only filling in the silences. But the words he
did
say made up some of the best advice Jonah had ever gotten.
Love your family. Do good things. Ask yourself if you can own your actions when you lay you head down at night.

“I haven’t owned my actions for a long time now.” Jonah bowed his head with the admission. “I’m
sorry
for so many reasons, but mostly because I know I hurt you. I was so scared, but I should have been here when you got sick.”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit how bad he’d failed his family, his grandfather, and himself. But the words were a force of their own, pushing outward.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you more before you died, Papa. I would give
anything
to go fishing with you one more time. I thought you’d always be around to be my best friend. I thought you’d dance with Quinn at our wedding. I thought you’d be here for me whenever I needed you…and then I wasn’t here when
you
needed
me
.”

Jonah’s voice cracked on the last words. He didn’t say anything for a long time, because he wasn’t sure where to go from here. His grandfather couldn’t absolve him. No one could. Some of Jonah’s mistakes couldn’t be forgiven.

“I miss you every day, Papa,” he continued. “I’m here to stay, and I’m going to be back after today. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know me. I want to tell you when things remind me of you, or when Jamie does something that you’d get tickled over.” He traced the words in his grandfather’s name again. “And I want to start doing all of that now.”

~~~~~

When Jonah finally stood and brushed off his pants, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, signaling the slow winding-down of another day. Jonah slid his on sunglasses and paused on the walkway, glancing back toward his grandfather’s grave. He knew he wouldn’t be who he’d invested so much time in pretending to be until he could stand tall, and unashamed. He was making strides toward that, but he had another big hurdle in his path, and he had no idea what to do about her. Quinn was a regular ghost in his dreams, haunting him with the command to leave her alone.

Worse were the nights when he dreamed of times she’d said his name with so much love, he’d thought no one could ever surpass her. And no one had. In the years since Quinn, Jonah had taken a few women to bed, and two of them were what he considered a serious relationship. But whether it was for a night, or for a few months, he couldn’t get past the fact that none of them were Quinn. And since that wasn’t fair to them, he always let them go.

None of them ever came back.

Jonah pressed his lips together, and started back down the path to the entrance. He was almost there when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something blue and bulky. He looked more out of curiosity than anything, and couldn’t go another step.

Off to the right, Quinn stood over a recently dug grave. She was wearing a summer dress a few shades lighter than her leg cast, and her hair was braided. Even from this distance, she made him weak in the knees; Jonah realized all over again that some things never changed. Quinn was gorgeous to him, but it was more than her appearance that attracted him to her. Jonah loved her heart, and her quirks—like how she wore socks at night or she got cold, and how when she danced, she went
somewhere else
entirely.

The breeze carried her voice to him, and he knew he should leave, but he couldn’t make himself. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but her soft voice held him there, on the fringes of a moment he knew he shouldn’t witness. He took a quick look at the parking lot, and saw an unfamiliar car parked near his. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat, but from this distance, and with the tinted windows, Jonah couldn’t be sure who it was. If it was Darren, and Jonah approached Quinn, there’d likely be another scene like the one a few weeks ago. And even if it
wasn’t
Darren, Jonah wasn’t sure Quinn wanted him anywhere near her.

He couldn’t make sense of her. He didn’t know where her aversion to him came from. He wasn’t sure if she was
that
angry with him for the way he acted the day she left, or for letting her leave. Or if she was mad at herself, or if there were other issues he didn’t know about. They weren’t likely to discuss their differences anytime soon. There was a good chance they were both too hurt to ever make any headway there.

Jonah was almost to the gate when a soft voice called his name.
Quinn’s
voice. He stopped, and felt the now-familiar jolt of adrenaline when he realized she was walking toward him. He was torn between meeting her halfway to help her, and staying where he was. The Quinn he loved would tell him to keep his hands off her. He had no idea how she might react now. So Jonah faced her and waited uncertainly.

She came to within several feet of him and stopped. Behind his sunglasses, Jonah studied her face. He hadn’t re-memorized her the last time they spoke, and now he found himself looking for changes. She was drawn, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She’d put on some muscle, which only enhanced her figure. She was the Quinn he knew, and also another version he didn’t know yet.

He wasn’t sure who should speak first. Jonah’s mind was teeming with “what-ifs” and things he should have said long before this moment. He opened his mouth, and shut it; nothing seemed right. Finally, he gestured toward a nearby bench. “Let’s sit down.” To his surprise, Quinn made her way to the bench and sat, leaning her crutches against the bench.

Had silence
ever
been this heavy? Jonah took off his sunglasses and glanced at Quinn. Once, they knew how to fill a silence full to brimming with laughter, dreams, and love. Now it felt more like an empty space, yawning around them. He wanted to ask what she was thinking. He wanted to take her hand in his and kiss each finger. He wanted to hold her for a long time, without speaking. He wanted to put a name to what he felt for her. He wanted to breathe life back into the silence until it was full and warm. And he couldn’t do any of those things.

“Who did you lose?”

Quinn’s voice startled him. Jonah rubbed at his eyes, wondering if they were as red as hers were. “Papa Bill. He had pancreatic cancer, and by the…” His voice was rusting. “By the time the doctors found it, he was too far gone. He had a few treatments, but it didn’t help. He died at home, as peaceful as we could make him.” He felt as though he ought to say more, but he didn’t know how to continue.

“Oh, Jonah. I didn’t know.” The words floated out softly, and Jonah wondered if she was remembering family dinners, and his granddad’s stories about his time in the service, or his many misadventures in a “vibrant” youth. Or picnics on summer afternoons and Papa Bill sneaking her, Jonah, and the boys sips of moonshine when Jonah’s mother wasn’t looking.

“You couldn’t have.” He sighed. “It’s okay.” Jonah bowed his head.

“I owe you an apology.” Her voice sounded thin, like she was trying to stretch it from one side of the distance between them to the other. Jonah felt his heartbeat kick up at her words, and he wanted more than anything to meet her halfway, to tell her that she wasn’t alone in this. She wasn’t the only one who made mistakes, at the end. And if she was apologizing to him now, he had a sudden fierce hope he might get to do the same.