Liberty’s Secret: Chapter Thirteen

I wrote Liberty’s Secret thirteen years ago when I thought I was going to be a romance writer (before I got bored by the formula). But when I decided that wasn’t the kind of writing I wanted to do, my completed genre novel was essentially abandoned and forgotten. But sometimes I get nostalgic about the path I’ve taken as a writer (and that includes the path not taken). So over the next two months, I’ll be posting it here a chapter at a time.

This is Chapter Thirteen.

*****

The moment Libby stepped from the limousine, the front door to the house opened and Dee appeared from inside. She ran to her sister, engulfing her in a bear hug, her face buried in Libby’s shoulder. It was obvious Dee had seen the article and was hurting deeply. Once again, as Libby had surmised, her feelings of hurt and humiliation had to be pushed aside to make room for Dee’s.

Quinn watched them hug from his vantage point inside the back of the car, not wanting to interrupt. He had told Libby that she had him to help her deal with her problems but the scene was proving to him that what was between her and Dee was something he could never, and would never want to, intrude on. He only left the cocooning comfort of the car once he had watched them walk into the house, arm in arm.

Fraser met him at the door with a very serious expression on his face.

‘Quinn, I am so very sorry about this. I had no idea. If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to stop its publication.’ Fraser gripped his shoulder in an effort to convey his regret.

‘It’s not your fault, Dad.’

Both men started at the word, Fraser wondering if he had heard correctly and Quinn wondering if he had said it or just thought it. Both, however, knew that there were more pressing concerns.

Quinn followed his father into the sitting room where Libby and Dee were perched on a sofa holding hands.

‘Do you want some time alone?’ Fraser asked, and Libby looked up at him while Dee remained with her eyes glued to the point where their hands were joined.

‘No, Fraser,’ Libby said with a strange inflection in her voice, and when she looked at Quinn he knew that she was seeing him in a different light now that she knew he was his father. ‘That’s okay. We’re okay,’ she assured him, looking to Quinn with a plea not to contradict her. He shoved his hands into his pockets to signal his acquiescence.

‘But I think Dee would like to go home.’ She stood and Dee stood with her. ‘We’d just really like to get home. Would Henry mind one more trip?’

‘Not at all,’ Fraser said instantly, backing out of the room. He called out to a member of his staff, who arrived immediately with Dee’s luggage. ‘Come on, Dee.’

Dee went to Fraser straight away, into the comfort of his arms as they walked to the open front door. Libby followed a short distance behind with Quinn. They were both unsure of what to say to each other, and at that moment Quinn wondered whether it was simply better not to speak.

He reached the front door before Libby, and closed it forcefully before turning to stand in front of her. The look on her face asked the question and he answered it by taking her face between his hands and kissing her. Her hands went to his, but did not try to wrench them away. She was kissing him back. And in that kiss was everything that was between them. The intimacy, the passion, the fear, the promise of something further when they could finally work through everything that was forcing them to be apart for the moment.

When Quinn pulled back, Libby was looking at him openly, but she still couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

‘You have me.’ He repeated the only thing he could think might bring her some small comfort. She looked at him for a moment longer before stepping aside and opening the door that had shielded them from the view of Fraser and Dee. She closed it behind her, cutting Quinn off.

He watched from a curtained window beside the door as the two Freeman sisters got into the car, as Henry drove off slowly down the driveway, as Fraser waved them goodbye from his position in front of the house. Quinn let the curtain drop and went back into the sitting room. He contemplated pouring himself a stiff drink, but doubted it would solve anything.

He was lounging on a sofa staring at the ceiling when Fraser returned. His father stood in the archway to the room regarding him without expression.

‘Why did this have to happen now?’ Quinn asked, exhaling noisily with frustration.

‘Did she tell you herself?’ Fraser asked, and Quinn shook his head. ‘It would have happened sooner or later anyway.’

‘But why did it have to happen this exact morning? She would have told me eventually. She would have told me. And that would have been the sign of her trust.’

‘She trusts you already.’ Fraser sat down beside him. ‘It’s herself she doesn’t trust.’

‘So what do I do now?’

‘You wait,’ Fraser said simply.

‘And if she never comes to me?’ The thought was so unpalatable that Quinn could barely voice it.

‘That’s a possibility.’ Fraser’s tone was slightly choked. It was exactly what had happened to him. He obviously didn’t want it to happen to his son as well. ‘But I think she’ll come. She loves you. She trusts you. She knows you love her. And more than anything, she just wants to be happy. She knows you can make her happy.’

Quinn didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either.

Fraser paused a moment before continuing. ‘So is there something else we should talk about?’

‘Something else?’ At that moment, Quinn couldn’t imagine that there was anything else to talk about.

‘Dad?’ It was all Fraser had to say for him to understand.

‘Well, you are my father and it was about time, surely.’

‘And that’s it? It was just suddenly time?’

‘No. There’s more to it than that.’ Quinn tried to think of the perfect way to sum it up. But he couldn’t. So he just began speaking, and let it all flow out. ‘When I saw how upset Libby was about the article, I thought that perhaps if she knew that we all have our little secrets, then she wouldn’t feel so bad. So I told her you were my father. And it must have acted as some sort of catalyst. I finally told someone and it was a weight off my shoulders. And I don’t think I want to hide it anymore.’

He thought for a second. ‘We’re just perpetuating what Mum did to us by keeping it to ourselves. We’re betraying ourselves by keeping her secret. I want people to know that I have a father and that I am proud of him. That I’m proud to be his son.’

Fraser’s smile was uncontained. ‘I’m proud to be your father. I always thought of you as the son I never had. It just turned out that you were the son I always did.’

A content silence fell over them, broken only when Fraser said, ‘I take it last night went well?’

The memory of it alone was enough to bring a smile to Quinn’s face. ‘It went well.’

‘Good.’ Fraser stood up. ‘I was afraid I might have to fire one of you.’

‘Oh.’ Quinn jumped to his feet, not exactly sure how he was going to say this to the man who was both his father and his boss. ‘Well, actually, that’s something I have to discuss with you.’ They wandered down the hall towards the kitchen.

‘Do you think I’m someone you could work without?’

‘What’s this about, Quinn?’

‘Dad, I quit.’

* * *

By Monday afternoon, Quinn was like a caged tiger in his apartment. He had never been unemployed before and the idleness, along with the enforced wait for further contact with Libby, was beginning to drive him crazy.

He had spent the morning tinkering with his bike, convincing himself it needed some attention. After removing spark plugs that could have survived for a further six months, he headed down to the specialist motorcycle shop where he shopped for everything from spark plugs to helmets and leather jackets.

‘Hi, Jack,’ he greeted the man behind the service counter.

‘Quinn,’ Jack said gruffly in return. ‘Be with you in a minute.’

Quinn leaned against the counter, surveying the layout of the shop. There were rows and rows of helmets in all the colours of the rainbow, making the black one tucked under his arm seem rather old-hat. There was rack after rack of leathers, adorned with motorcycle brands. The idea was forming in his mind before he even spotted the brand new black leather jacket adorning the mannequin in the middle of the store.

‘What do you say, Jack? That jacket be about the right size for a fifteen-year-old?’

He had purchased the spark plugs and the jacket before sense could interfere with his plan. He changed out of his grease covered jeans and white t-shirt into clean black jeans and black t-shirt and sped away from his apartment.

At exactly three-thirty, he was waiting outside Dee’s school, with the new leather jacket hanging over the back of the bike along with his own well-worn jacket.

When the bell signalled, tension was evident in every muscle in Quinn’s face. It occurred to him that perhaps Dee hadn’t come to school. She had been very upset yesterday, enough to warrant a small leave of absence. But his worry was for nothing. She emerged by herself, her head down, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

She walked right up to the school gate before noticing him.

‘Quinn.’ The tone of her voice was slightly dimmer than usual but she hurried forward to meet him, then stopped almost awkwardly.

‘Hi, Dee,’ he greeted her, studying her face. He couldn’t tell if the previous day had taken its toll or not. Emotions seemed at war on her face, a mixture of pleasure and confusion.

‘Have you come to take me home?’ she asked with a small smile.

‘If you like.’

‘I don’t really want to go home,’ she confided with a weary air.

‘Any reason why?’

‘Well, the press are camped out on the nature strip. That damn article reminded everyone and now we can’t get a moment’s peace. They were there when we woke up this morning, they followed Libby to work, they tried to interview all the workers as they arrived at the Verbatim building. I spoke to Libby at lunchtime. She said I should go to Grandma’s, not home.’ She looked around as if searching for the flash of camera bulbs.

‘I don’t have to take you home. We could just go for a ride if you prefer.’

Dee smiled at the idea.

‘I brought you a present, just in case.’ He held up the shiny black jacket and Dee gasped with excitement.

‘For me?’

‘For you,’ he confirmed and she squealed with pleasure. She dropped her bag to the ground and immediately put the jacket on, admiring the fit.

‘Thank you, Quinn. This is the best present I’ve ever been given.’ To her fifteen-year-old mind, it probably was.

‘Any preferences on a destination?’ he asked, straddling the bike and handing her a helmet before tightening his under his chin.

‘Let’s go down to the river. Mum used to take me down to the river to watch the sunset.’ She jumped on behind him and they roared off down to the river, parking the bike on the bank and sitting at the water’s edge.

Dee trailed her fingers in the cool water, watching her reflection ripple out in circles as the surface was disturbed.

‘How’s Libby?’ Quinn asked after the silence had consumed them for some time.

‘She’s…I don’t want to say unfeeling. But you know that face she gets? The one where you can’t tell if she just doesn’t care or if she hasn’t even heard what you said? She’s been wearing it non-stop since she got back from your cabin.’

‘I call it vague.’

‘Yeah,’ Dee agreed, looking up with a smile. ‘That’s exactly what it is.’ She was silent again.

‘But you know what the strange thing is?’ she said after a minute. ‘I’ve seen that face a million times. She uses it on my teachers, she uses it on Fraser, she uses it on Grandma, she uses it when Mormons knock on the door, I’ve even seen her use it on you. But she’s never used it on me before.’

‘It was all I ever got when I first met her.’ It seemed an age ago.

‘I always thought we were so close that she’d never want to hide her feelings from me. She’s everything in my life.’

‘You’re everything in her life, Dee.’ Quinn felt the conviction of the words as he said them.

‘Then why can’t she tell me what she’s really feeling? Why can’t she say, “Dee, I’m so angry about this” or “Dee, I’m so hurt because of this” or something?’

‘She thinks she’s protecting you.’

‘Me? I don’t need protecting. Apart from the fact that it hurts Libby, this doesn’t affect me at all.’

And there was the paradox. Libby was upset on Dee’s behalf and Dee was upset on Libby’s behalf. Once Libby realised that it didn’t affect Dee in the way it once had, she could move on and deal with her own hurt.

‘Have you told Libby that?’

‘No.’ Dee looked at him quizzically. ‘She knows.’

‘Libby thinks she has to push all her feelings aside over this to help you deal with it, to keep you from being hurt any more than you already have been.’

‘I was hurt four years ago. My mum was gone and I didn’t understand why. I get a bit girly about it on the anniversary of her death, as you saw. That day you were helping us cook dinner. But I deal. I’ve dealt. It’s past.’

‘Maybe you should tell Libby that.’

‘Maybe I should,’ she agreed. ‘Why are you so good at this?’

‘I’m not usually,’ Quinn admitted. ‘You’d better take advantage while you can.’

Dee smiled at him and he mimicked her expression as a feeling of warmth stole over him. He lay back on the grass to soak up the last rays of the day when she spoke again.

‘Quinn, why aren’t you at work?’

‘Oh, I quit,’ he said casually, for the first time that day not feeling the strange guilt or frustration that had dogged him for most of the morning.

‘Why?’ Dee’s surprise was evident in her voice.

‘Maybe I should let Libby tell you.’

‘Hell would freeze over first,’ she grumbled, lying back with her arms extended under her head to cushion the ground.

‘Well, she said, “Quinn, I don’t get involved with people I work with” and I said, “Libby, I quit” or something like that.’

‘Wow, that’s so romantic!’ Dee sighed loudly and Quinn had a moment of déjà vu.

‘You’re not going to ask if we’re getting married, are you?’

‘No,’ she laughed, ‘I’m just saying it’s romantic.’

‘Yeah,’ Quinn said with a smile, ‘it was sort of romantic.’

‘I think so,’ Dee reiterated. Quinn thought for a moment.

‘You’re so easy to impress, Dee. If only Libby were as susceptible.’

‘She is,’ she said, looking at him. ‘Libby and I are the same. She’s made me everything I am. I’m just a little version of her with a smart mouth and a slightly less tragic past.’

‘Will she come to me?’ he asked, driven to incongruity by his longing.

Dee looked into his eyes and he stared straight back, noting without surprise her understanding, the maturity beyond her years.

‘Eventually.’

But eventually was too long.

‘Don’t worry,’ Dee said, her perception obvious again. ‘I’ll be planting the seeds as soon as she gets home. The end of the week is my guess.’

They took the long way home, savouring the wind tugging at their jackets, stopping first at Grandma Freeman’s house and continuing once Libby’s message to come home was passed on. The press were still camped on the nature strip, so Quinn didn’t stop his bike. He drove around into the street behind the Freeman house and watched Dee run through the yard of the house behind hers, then vault the fence.

‘End of the week,’ she yelled to him, her head and a hand popping up over the fence to wave goodbye to him.

‘Is that Friday or Sunday?’ Quinn yelled back.

‘Better give me until Sunday.’