Chapter Six

Panic rushed throughQuinn.

"I can't lift her by myself," her grandfather said, "and Gill is out. She insists she's fine."

A measure of relief came with Grandpa's words.

"She refuses to let me call the fire department because she's afraid they'll take her to the emergency room. Is your festival almost over?"

"I can leave now." She frowned at Dre and pointed to her phone before she spun around and headed for the school. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Dodging people gathered in the gym, she trotted to her classroom. She turned the dial on her locker.

The latch didn't open. She groaned.

"Has something happened?" Dre asked from the doorway.

Without looking his way, she worked the combination a second time. "My grandmother fell, and Grandpa can't lift her."

She tried the locker latch. Still locked. She jerked it up and down in frustration. Her hands started to shake. "Grandma says she's fine, but she could be hurt."

Dre's warm hands gently wrapped around hers. "Let's take this one step at a time. Right now you need to open this locker. That's all. Okay?"

He squeezed her fingers, and she gazed at him.

Calm descended on her like a dousing, refreshing rain. She took a deep breath.

He released her, and she twisted the lock to the right to ten, to the left to twenty-two, and the right to nineteen. With a flick of the latch, it opened.

"Thank you." She grabbed her purse and started for the door.

He kept up with her. "I'll go with you."

"What about Jamaal?" She stepped into the hall.

"He's already left with friends."

"What about your car?"

"I'll Uber back for it later."

His offer was a godsend because she had no idea how she and Grandpa were going to lift Grandma. "You drive your car, and I'll meet you in front of the school. You can follow me."

"Black Mini Cooper, right?"

She couldn't believe he remembered that detail. "Yes."

"I'm driving a black F150." He took off the opposite way down the hall.

~

Dre drove onto theshell driveway behind Quinn. The well-kept house with white siding, black shutters, and a red door was on a sizeable lot. Pecan trees shaded the lawn. The opened door of the garage showed the back of a Buick.

Once they parked, Dre followed Quinn to the front steps. She threw the door open and called, "It's me."

"In the kitchen," Ivan said.

Dre hurried through the house, trailing Quinn. In the kitchen, Ivan sat on the floor behind a heavy-set woman who leaned back on him for support. She had a round face framed in silver curls.

"When did this happen?" Quinn asked.

"Right before Grandpa called you," the woman replied.

Something in his periphery caught Dre's attention. A black cat with green eyes stared at him before it darted across the floor.

"Hello, Dre." Ivan held out his hand.

"Good to see you again." Dre reached out and shook the man's hand.

"The Scorpions won the game last Sunday all thanks to you."

Dre didn't mind talking football, but they really needed to get these two off the floor.

Quinn let out an exasperated sigh. "Grandma, are you hurt?"

"Just my pride, dear. Even though these damn knees work a sight better than before surgery, they don't bend like they used to. I blame that blasted chair. I went to sit down, and it slid out from under me."

At the end of the counter, a shorter countertop extended long enough for a small desk area with a drawer. A chair on wheels was overturned behind where the couple sat.

"I've warned you about that chair. Its wheels move too fast on this slick floor," Quinn complained. The linoleum resembled wooden parquet flooring.

"You're right, dear," her grandmother agreed.

Dre crouched in front of the older woman. "Nice to meet you. I'm Andre Biel."

"Estelle Weldon. My husband hasn't stopped talking about you since he met you at Chuck's. He's your biggest fan."

"I enjoyed meeting him as well. I wish it had been under different circumstances." He tilted his head toward Ivan. "I do hope you've gotten your Nova back."

The old man shook his gray head. "They're ordering parts for Betsy. I don't expect her back for weeks."

"Sorry to hear that." Dre returned his attention to Estelle. "Let's get you up."

He straightened, sidestepped, and offered his hand to help Ivan off the floor. Then he stood behind Mrs. Weldon and placed his hands under her arms. Ivan and Quinn flanked her. Dre counted to three and lifted her, not letting go until she was steady on her feet.

"Oh, thank you, young man." She hurried to the stove. In a flurry of movement, she whipped the cover off the large pot, picked up a long stainless-steel spoon, and stirred. A mouthwatering aroma wafted from the pot. "You must stay for dinner."

"Yes," Ivan seconded. "It's the least we can do to repay you."

"My grandmother makes the best rice and gravy." Quinn smiled.

Her smile did things to him. Warnings and the wariness he'd experienced around any woman since Anita didn't surface. He'd have a better chance fighting a bull than fighting his attraction to Quinn. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. As long as he left Katy by six, he'd make it to Dallas in plenty of time to rest for his game tomorrow at noon.

He reached into his pocket to check the time on his phone. It wasn't in his pocket. He'd plugged it in to charge on the way over. The microwave clock read a quarter to two. "How can I refuse?"

"It'll be ready in fifteen minutes," Estelle promised.

"I need to run to my truck and grab my phone."

"I should get my purse as well." Quinn led him out the way they'd come. The cat scurried across the hallway. "That's Agnes. She's a bit skittish. My grandparents are the only people she'll let pet her. Years ago, they rescued her when they found her abandoned on the side of the highway with a broken leg."

"I think I'd be wary of people too."

She nodded.

Dre walked to his truck, opened his door, and unhooked his phone from the charger. An early model Cadillac drove into their neighbor's driveway. The painted-blue house appeared to be made out of plywood and was surrounded by a hurricane fence. Overgrown trees and shrubbery shaded three motorcycles on the porch. The place looked like it needed to be demolished.

A huge man in overalls opened the door to the Cadillac, slid out, and yelled, "Quinn, I've got some tomatoes for you and your grandparents." He disappeared into the house.

She started toward the fence dividing the two properties.

A minute later, the man came out of the banging screen door with two paper sacks. "They're ripening quicker than we can pick them."

Dre spotted rows of plants in the guy's backyard.

"The last tomatoes you sent were divine," Quinn said. "Grandpa hates that he can't grow his own anymore."

"Don't tell Estelle, but he helps in my garden when she's not looking."

"Mum's the word."

Dre walked up behind Quinn.

The man froze. His blue eyes were bright and his red hair dark. His beard came down to his chest. "You're Andre Biel."

Quinn introduced them. "Dre, this is Gill."

He stepped forward and shook the man's hand over the fence.

"Thanks again." Quinn motioned with the bags. Dre grabbed the bags from her before she started for the house.

Gill said, "A. B., if you're ever around, stop by for a beer. We can talk football."

"Did you play?" Football remained universal to the people who'd played in high school. It was almost as if everyone who played was in a fraternity, waiting to tell their stories to their brothers.

"Yeah. I went to a tiny high school and played on both the offensive and defensive lines."

"That's crazy."

"One game I lost fifteen pounds."

"Damn. Ten's the most I've ever lost." After speaking with Gill for a few minutes, Dre knocked on the Weldon's door. He didn't feel comfortable letting himself inside.

Quinn answered.

"Delivery from Gill, ma'am."

She grinned and stepped back to let him inside. In a rush when he entered earlier, he hadn't noticed the hallway ceiling hung low. He made sure to stay on the plastic runner covering the carpet. The first room off the hall was neat with a TV, couch, and two recliners. Photos in wooden frames hung on the walls.

When they made it to the kitchen, he set the bags on the counter. A blast of heat hit him from the open oven where Ivan stooped over, putting in a pan of brown-n-serve rolls.

Quinn's grandmother set eight minutes on a white timer.

Dre and Quinn poured four glasses of tea, then Estelle handed him a bowl of rice. "Put this on the dining room table."

"Yes, ma'am."

Quinn picked up two of the tea glasses and showed him into the dining room. A light fixture with five glass shades hung over the center of the table for four. He placed the bowl down and went back for more dishes. The fare for the night included pork roast, rice and gravy, purple hull peas, a tossed green salad, and rolls. Once everything was on the table, Estelle came in carrying three plates, napkins, and silverware. Ivan entered behind her holding a Frisbee.

The old man situated the Frisbee upside down at his spot at the head of the table. He led them in a short prayer before they passed the food around. Everyone filled their plates, and Ivan filled his Frisbee.

"Dre's wondering about your Frisbee," Estelle said.

Ivan held out his hands. "This infernal shaking makes it hard to eat certain foods. Rice, for instance. If I eat on the Frisbee, the lip keeps it from ending up on the table instead of in my mouth."

"I keep telling him it's silly," Estelle added.

"It's genius," Dre replied. "True genius. I'll have to buy some for the residents at Chasing Time."

Ivan beamed.

"Your mother works there, doesn't she?" Estelle crinkled her nose.

He'd seen her reaction before. Lots of folks considered moving to a retirement village a step before the end of their lives. He couldn't deny a bit of truth in that sentiment, but Chasing Time had many amenities, and from all he could tell, the residents enjoyed living there.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I saw you do lots of promotion for the place." Ivan turned the Frisbee to fill his fork. "It was a rather big project."

"I visited not too long ago and loved it." Quinn sipped her tea and looked at her grandmother, who concentrated on her plate. He guessed she didn't approve of Quinn's interest in the place. The space above Quinn's nose, between her brows, puckered. Obviously, she was worried about the older couple. Her concern pinched his insides, and he wished for a way to ease her anxiety.

They ate in uncomfortable silence before Dre said, "I'd like to confide something to you all, but I must insist you keep it a secret."

They all concentrated on him.

"Quinn was right. This might very well be the best rice and gravy I've ever had."

"Why is that a secret?" Estelle asked.

"My mother can never know I said it is better than hers."

They laughed.

Reaching out to rescue one another under any condition is an eternal measure of love.

~ Ronal A. Rasband