Chapter Seventeen

"Ms. Quinn, can youplease pull into Jangles?" Jamaal asked.

"Sure." She turned into the fast food restaurant lot and parked. She'd brought Jamaal to and from school every day since his football season ended a few weeks ago.

"I'll be right back."

Sun glinted off the glass door as Jamaal walked inside. The day had warmed into the sixties after starting in the thirties. White clouds floated in the cerulean blue sky. All the rain yesterday brought beautiful weather.

Yesterday. What an amazing day she'd spent with Dre at the beach cabin. Her body tingled at the mere thought. Everything had been magical.

Until he'd talked about playing football on the way home.

She breathed deeply to ward off her gut-wrenching reaction to the thought, but couldn't. Would he actually play next season?

She checked the car clock. In a couple of hours, she'd need to start for the airport. She prayed she didn't see Dre before her flight. Her emotions were too close to the surface, and she was afraid of breaking down if she saw him. He wouldn't understand why she was upset. She hadn't explained Oliver's death to him and couldn't now. Everything in her wanted to ask him not to play, except it would be unfair to request such a thing based on her fears. He'd texted her a couple of times during the interview breaks he was doing with an ESPN reporter for a special on athletes with sickle cell. She hadn't answered any of them, very unlike her.

Jamaal exited the restaurant with a bag and hustled to the strip mall adjacent to Jangles. He handed the food to a man wrapped in a blanket sitting on the curb.

Impressed, she smiled when he slid back into the car. "How kind of you."

"Uncle Dre and Mom said when they got their driver's license Mama B insisted they always had money on them in case they ran across someone who needed help. I've been with them lots of times when they've bought food for someone. Uncle Dre gave me a bunch of tens when I started high school and told me to do the same."

"I'm sure the people really appreciate it."

"They seem to."

She turned out of the parking lot. "Have you always spent your afternoons at Chasing Time?"

"When Mama B worked at Shady Pines, I'd go there after school and during the summers because I was too young to stay at home alone. Since Chasing Time opened, she insists I do chores, help wherever is needed, and get to know the residents."

"Well, my grandfather loves playing cribbage with you."

"Grandpa Mac taught me when I stayed with him on my seventh birthday."

She glanced over at him.

He rubbed his forehead. "He told me he apologized to Uncle Dre and you were there. So you know what happened."

She nodded as her heart squeezed. The poor boy had been kidnapped and held for ransom without him knowing.

"He keeps apologizing." Jamaal adjusted his seatbelt. "Anyway, I'm glad Ivan mentioned cribbage. I enjoy playing."

"He says you're better than he is."

"He lies. He beats me more than I beat him. And he always catches the points I miss."

"Thank you for spending time with him."

"No reason to thank me, Ms. Quinn. Ivan's a great dude."

When they arrived at Chasing Time and entered the apartment building, Mac was waiting. He rushed up to Jamaal, excitement lighting the old man's face. "Are you ready?"

"Sure."

Mama B watched the two with a smile as she approached. "Jamaal, leave your backpack in my office. I'll take it home."

The boy hurried off.

Quinn waved to Mama B and Mac as she started across the foyer.

"Are you certain you're well enough for this?" Mama B quietly asked Mac.

Well enough? Had he been ill? Quinn hadn't seen him for a few weeks, yet she hadn't heard he'd been sick.

"Yes. I never thought this day would come. I'm taking my grandson fishing."

"Don't overdo..." Mama B's voice became fainter as Quinn walked through the hallway toward the apartments. Before she packed a bag for her flight, she wanted to check on her grandparents. She'd considered not going to Bloomington until yesterday when Dre dropped his bombshell about returning to the field. Now, she wanted to put as much distance between them as she could to protect herself. Plus, she needed to be there for the fundraiser tomorrow. She pulled out her phone and read the latest text from Dre. Thinking I should purchase the beach cabin from the Hunters so we can go there whenever we want. I can't stop thinking about yesterday.

She sadly smiled and texted back. Me either. While she did have glorious memories of yesterday, her mind was concentrating on his intent to play again. Uncertain what to say to him, she told him the only truth she knew at that moment. I love you.

She knocked on her grandparents' door.

"Come in." Grandma and Grandpa sat close to one another on the couch. Gill was in the chair and a young redheaded boy knelt on the rug petting Agnes.

"Hey, Quinn," Gill stood. "This is my nephew, Kieran."

"Hi." The child waved. Agnes watched the boy's every move.

"Nice to meet you, Kieran."

"Kieran offered to adopt Agnes," Grandma said. "And promises to bring her by for visits."

Agnes sauntered over to Quinn and rubbed her side against Quinn's leg. When Quinn leaned down to pet her, Agnes darted back to Kieran and jumped into his lap.

The child gently rubbed the cat's ears.

"The two are inseparable. She rarely leaves his side," Gill said. "We need to go, Kieran."

The little boy picked up Agnes and walked over to Grandma and Grandpa. "I promise to take good care of her."

"I know you will." Grandma kissed Agnes's head. "Be a good girl."

Gill, Kieran, and Agnes left.

"I've never seen that hellcat so happy," Grandma said.

"For sure." Quinn laughed. "Well, I'm going to pack and head to the airport."

"Dear, are you sure you need to go?" Grandma asked. "We'd love for you to spend Thanksgiving here with us. I'm sure Dre will be here."

"I have to go." Her throat thickened. "I have to get away."

"Get away from what?" Grandpa stood and helped Grandma stand.

No sense in keeping it a secret from them. "Dre. I need time to think about things."

Grandpa's brow crinkled. "Things?"

"I love him."

"That's wonderful," he said.

"It should be." She released a painful sigh. "Since his injury, I thought we might have a chance because I assumed he wouldn't play football again. But he's talking about honoring his contract next season." Tears clogging her throat, she whispered, "I don't think I can be with him if he does."

Grandma engulfed her in a lilac-scented hug. "Oh, darling girl. You haven't told him about Oliver, have you?"

She shook her head and cried on her grandmother's shoulder.

~

Dre inched along intraffic in downtown Houston. Highway 610 looked like a parking lot going both north and south. Rush hour on Friday, in and near Houston, was a nightmare, always had been. He'd texted Quinn a few times today, and she'd only answered once, which meant she must've been busy. He didn't get out of the ESPN shoot early enough to see her at Chasing Time, so he was on his way to surprise her at the airport to say goodbye.

He didn't want to wait a week to see her, not after yesterday. Making love to her changed him. Something inside him shifted, like everything he'd ever wondered about his life and his future would work out. He couldn't explain it. He didn't have any answers as to what he'd do after his playing days were over, but that didn't matter anymore. Even though Quinn hadn't said yes to his proposal, he felt she—

His phone rang through the speakers, interrupting his thoughts. The truck's display screen showed Jamaal's picture.

"What's up?"

"Uncle Dre," the boy's panicked voice screeched. "Grandpa Mac collapsed."

Alarm pricked through Dre. "Is he breathing?"

"I think so. He's face down."

"Turn him over."

Jamaal's breath was loud and labored. "Let me put you on speaker."

With traffic at a standstill, Dre's frustration pounded in his veins, making his head hurt. He turned up the volume on his phone.

"Oh shit," Jamaal yelled. "His jacket and shirt are soaked in blood."

Dre kept his voice calm. "Find where the blood is coming from."

Rustling crackled through the phone. "There's a bandage high on his chest. It's soaked through."

"Put pressure on the bandage."

"Won't that hurt?"

"He's out. He won't feel it." At least, he hoped not. "Did you call 911?"

Jamaal had been excited this morning at breakfast that his parents agreed to let him go fishing with Mac. "No. We're on a dock on Lake Conroe. I don't know the streets he took to get here. I've never been here before and it's getting dark."

"Your phone should give your location."

"Blood is all over my hands." He gagged. "I've never seen this much blood."

"That doesn't mean anything. Some people bleed excessively." He'd learned that from helping people at the retirement home. "Is anyone else around?"

"No! It's only us."

Damn. Dre needed to convince him to find his location and call 911.

The car in front of him went forward two feet and at the same time, his thoughts cleared. "Mac's tracker, Jamaal. Use one hand to find his phone. Keep the other on the bandage. Call his parole officer. They'll be able to find you from the tracker. Tell them it's an emergency."

A moment later, Dre heard, "This is Mac Wallace's grandson. Are you his parole officer?" Dre listened to one side of the conversation. "Yes, sir ... He's bleeding. He collapsed. Can you find us with his tracker? ... I am ... My uncle told me to keep pressure where the blood is coming from ... Okay ... Uncle Dre?"

"I'm here."

"They're sending an ambulance." Jamaal's voice choked on his next words. "He hasn't moved."

"Keep the pressure constant." A distraction might help. "Did you catch a fish?"

"Three. Mac insisted they were keepers, but they were too small." The boy's voice remained unsteady. "I told him we had to release them. I explained the reality show about game wardens you and I watched a couple of weeks ago and how they have more power than police officers."

"Yeah, game wardens are badasses." Dre changed lanes when the traffic started moving again. He continued to pepper Jamaal with questions, and the boy kept answering. He told Dre about school and riding to and from with Quinn. How they'd stopped and gotten food for a homeless person.

"I hear sirens," Jamaal finally said.

Thank God.The sirens got loud enough for Dre to hear.

"A police car and an ambulance are here."

"Ask where they're taking Mac. I'll meet you there."

"You won't hang up, right?"

"No. I'm here. I'm always here." Always had been, always would be.

"What happened?" someone questioned.

"He collapsed, and when I rolled him over I saw the blood."

Dre listened to what was going on. "What's your name, son?" "Jamaal." "Who is this man?" "Mac Wallace." "Okay, you can let go of the pressure now. We'll take care of him." "Here, let's wash your hands." "Mac? Mac, can you hear..."

Too many voices volleyed around and Dre could no longer make out anything being said until finally Jamaal's voice sounded loud, like his mouth was right near the phone. "They're taking him to HCA Hospital in Conroe."

"I'll get there as fast as I can."

"I'm texting Dad and Mom." After a minute, his nephew's hollow voice came through the phone. "Grandpa Mac hasn't woken up."

As much as Dre wanted to assure him Mac would be all right, he didn't want to give Jamaal false hope.

~

The tiny waiting roomat HCA Hospital felt crowded with two couches and four chairs. Colored paper turkeys stapled to a string hung from the ceiling.

"Mac was in stage four renal failure when he arrived in town in September," Dre's mother said. "He scheduled surgery for a fistula in December, but his kidneys gave out and instead of the fistula, he underwent surgery for a heart catheter three weeks ago. I knew he had dialysis before they left today. I checked with him, and he said he was fine."

"He wasn't fine." Jamaal's eyes looked dazed. Crusted blood stained his jacket and jeans.

"Why didn't he mention it?" Knox asked.

"He didn't want you to pity him." Mom frowned. "He wanted to earn your love and make up for his mistakes."

Jamaal got up and paced.

A tall woman dressed in scrubs entered the waiting room. Her nametag read Dr. June Innuet. "I'm looking for Mac Wallace's family."

Jamaal, Knox, and Tracy jumped up.

She pointed. "Are you Jamaal?"

"I am."

"The paramedics told us how you applied pressure to Mr. Wallace's wound." Dr. Innuet smiled. "You saved his life."

Jamaal turned toward Dre with tears in his eyes. "My uncle told me what to do."

Feeling Jamaal's emotions like they were his own, Dre bobbed his head, his eyes blurring.

The doctor continued, "Mr. Wallace's heart catheter wasn't stanched properly after dialysis today. We're keeping him for a few days. He might need a blood transfusion. He's awake and asked to see you, Jamaal."

Jamaal, Tracy, and Knox followed the doctor down the hallway.

Now that the excitement was over, he checked the time. Quinn's plane had taken off two hours ago. He sighed and focused on his mother sitting beside him. "For a minute there, I wondered if there might be something romantic between you and Mac."

"Oh, heaven's no."

"What about Mr. Cason?" He'd seen them together walking near the lake holding hands a few times over the last few weeks, and remembered Quinn saw them doing the same and both coming out of the pantry one day. "The buzz is he's hoping you let him hold your hand again."

"What is it with that man and hands?"

"Fingers have erogenous zones."

She gasped. "Is that any way to talk to your mother?"

He laughed. "You had two children. I'm guessing you know what an erogenous zone is."

That faraway look she sometimes wore came to her face. "Lord, how I miss your father."

"All these years, why didn't you marry another man?"

"It felt wrong. I promised to love your father forever." She folded her hands in her lap.

"No, Mom. You promised to love him as long as you both shall live."

She squinted like she got a sudden headache. "You couldn't understand a love like ours."

Oh, but he could. He loved Quinn more than he ever thought possible. "Dad would've wanted you to be happy. He's not going to haunt you if you give your heart to another man."

"I'm not so sure. He was a jealous sort."

"However jealous, he wouldn't have wanted you to be single and live a lonely life."

She scoffed. "I've never been lonely. I've always had my family."

"What happens when Jamaal moves out? Maybe it's time for you to have a love affair. I know it's time for me. I proposed to Quinn."

"Oh, Dre, I'm so excited for you."

"Yeah, well, don't be too excited. She didn't say yes."

"She will."

~

Knox and Tracy decidedto stay the night at the hospital with Mac. Jamaal rode with Dre, and they followed Mama B back to Chasing Time because she needed their help to unload her SUV.

"Thank you for answering the phone. I'm not sure what I would've done without you. The blood freaked me out ..." The kid talked with nervous excitement the entire drive. "...I think Grandpa Mac will recover. He was sitting up and talking. Even eating, I can't believe he was eating. Hours earlier I thought he was going to die."

"I'm glad everything worked out."

"Mama B was right. No matter what, we must forgive."

"Let's not tell her. She already thinks she's right about everything."

Jamaal snorted. "Yes, she does."

Dre turned into the apartment parking lot. They grabbed boxes and bags packed with Thanksgiving decorations from Mom's car before entering the building. On the way to her office, Dre noticed residents in the sitting area. He spotted Ivan and Estelle at one of the tables working on a puzzle. After three trips to unload the SUV, Dre and Jamaal headed toward Quinn's grandparents.

Ivan stood when he saw the blood on Jamaal's clothing. "What happened?"

Drained, Dre plopped onto a couch near them.

Jamaal explained what happened while everyone in the room gathered around him and hung on his every word.

"Heavens." Estelle put a hand on her heart. "You're so brave, Jamaal."

Ivan patted his back. "Good thing you were there."

Jamaal's shoulders lifted.

The crowd dispersed with more congratulations to the boy.

"Let's go, Jamaal," Mom called from the foyer. "It's late and we both need to eat. I believe the hero of the day deserves some pancakes."

"Good night." He sped out of the room.

Dre got up, realizing how hungry he was. Before he could say goodbye, Ivan asked, "Have you spoken to Quinn today?"

"I was on my way to the airport to see her off when Jamaal called. I left her some text messages, and she called me back right before we left the hospital."

The older man scratched his nose. "Did she explain why she flew to Bloomington?"

"For Thanksgiving. We made all those desserts."

Ivan and Estelle shared a glance. Estelle twisted around in her chair and reached out to pat Dre's hand. "Dear, what has Quinn told you about Oliver?"

"Only that she lost him. I got the sense his passing was a sensitive subject."

"We need a computer." Ivan motioned for Dre to follow him to where desks with computers lined one wall. A couple were occupied with people wearing headsets.

Mrs. Silver saw them approach and said, "Dre, my rat isn't working."

"Your rat?"

She picked up the computer mouse. "Yes, this damn thing."

He just stopped himself from laughing out loud. "Your mouse."

"Mouse. Rat. What's the difference?"

Dre checked the mouse connection. It wasn't in all the way, so he reconnected it. "Try now."

She jiggled the mouse and the cursor on the screen moved. "You're a magician. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He went to a computer station a couple of desks away, Ivan and Estelle behind him.

"Pull up The YouTube," Ivan said.

The YouTube and a computer rat. Dre chuckled to himself and thought about telling his mother the residents needed computer lessons or full-time tech support. He typed in the browser and brought it up.

"Look for Oliver Eckhart." Estelle sat beside him.

He typed the name in the search engine and dozens of videos ran down the screen. He read the headline for the first one. "Hometown Boy Dies on the Basketball Court."

"It happened," Estelle began, "ten years ago tomorrow."

Ivan touched Dre's shoulder and pointed at the first video.

Dre unplugged the headset and clicked on the video. A Bloomington news clip started with a picture of a young boy with dirty-blonde hair and green eyes wearing a red and white basketball uniform with the number thirty-three.

Cold dread snaked down his back.

"On November twenty-second, tragedy struck at Rohan High School." He adjusted the volume a bit louder.

The screen showed a man in a red jacket with the initial R on the pocket. "I coached Oliver since his freshman year. He was a great kid, a true team player. The kind of guy everyone liked." The coach put a hand over his face for a few seconds and wiped his eyes before he continued. "I've coached for over twenty years, and this was the most traumatic thing I've ever seen happen on the court."

The male reporter stared into the camera. "This footage may be difficult for sensitive viewers. Viewer discretion is advised."

The picture changed to a pack of teenagers, half in red and half in yellow uniforms, running down a basketball court. He searched for number thirty-three and found him guarding the point guard. Oliver stole the ball and hustled down the court, no one close to him as he easily scored a layup. The crowd erupted. The cheerleaders raised their pom poms.

He noticed a blonde right off. "Is that Quinn?"

"Yes," Ivan said.

She looked cute in her red and white uniform, her hair in a high ponytail. She did a jump toward the crowd. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

The crowd quieted.

Quinn turned toward the court and froze.

The camera zoomed in on the lifeless body face up on the polished hardwood floor before players from both teams blocked the camera.

Trainers and coaches rushed to the body.

"Oliver!" Quinn dropped her pom poms and ran forward to kneel at his feet. "Oliver!"

"Sudden cardiac arrest," Ivan explained. "Quinn said she knew the instant she saw him he wouldn't make it."

"They had been sweethearts since the eighth grade," Estelle murmured. "And were friends since kindergarten."

Dre's throat tightened.

Two players lifted Quinn and pulled her back. She didn't fight them as they turned her away from the scene. At seeing her face, Dre inhaled a shaky breath. Her vow not to date athletes now made sense. It wasn't that she'd loved and been jilted. She'd loved and lost.

His sweet Quinn stared straight ahead as the players led her away, resignation in her terror-filled eyes.

As your feelings for someone grow stronger, so does your fear of losing them. ~ Unknown