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Silence followed. Sawyer took his time answering. “I don’t think people are looking for payback, Quinn. That’s not how we are here in this part of Montana.”
“Maybe that’s why I really want to do this. Maybe it’s why I need to do this. It gives me a chance to come home and belong. I haven’t felt like I belonged here since I headed off to play ball.”
“Is that why you never visit?”
Quinn shrugged. “That big house of mine doesn’t quite feel like mine yet.”
“It will if you spend enough time here.”
Quinn smiled ruefully. “I think that’s the plan.” He extended a hand to Sawyer. “Now let’s get you in the house so Jenna doesn’t have to come back out.”
Sawyer put his gloved hand into Quinn’s and allowed him to help pull him to his feet. “Well in that case, I accept,” he said, adjusting the crutches beneath his arms. “Because, apparently, I’m actually doing you a favor.” He cracked a smile, and then his expression turned thoughtful. “Did Carson Scott really offer to come over and help out here?”
“He did.”
“Even though this is his busiest time, too.”
“But you’d do the same for him, if the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you?”
Sawyer nodded. “Yes. I would.”
*
The day seemed to creep by for Charity. She was counting down the hours until she could head to the tree farm to see Quinn but finally it was almost time for her to leave and she was determined to get out of the office on time.
Greg emerged from his office as she turned off her computer and cleaned off her desk for the night. “Have time for a drink?” he asked.
“I can’t. I have plans,” she answered, aware that she was already late getting out to the Gallaghers.
“I’m sure you can spare me thirty minutes.”
She grabbed her coat and purse and headed out the door. “I really have to go,” she said, even as Greg followed her out the door where he grabbed her elbow to stop her.
“Meghan didn’t mean anything. We were friends—”
“I don’t care, Greg. I really don’t.”
“Just give me a half hour,” he said persuasively, still holding onto her sleeve. “Better yet, let me take you to dinner. I want to fix this. I feel so bad about what happened.” He gave her his winning smile; the one she used to think was boyish and charming but now made her stomach knot.
She yanked herself free and took a step away. “We work together, but that’s it. We’re not friends. We will never be friends. Good night.”
“You’re making me sound like a bad person. I’m not a bad person.”
It was dark out and cold and this part of Main Street was pretty much deserted. Two blocks south Grey’s Saloon gleamed with light, but Melk Realty was on a quieter end of the street and Charity wasn’t comfortable anymore. “Fine. You’re not a bad person. Can I please just go now?”
“You don’t realize what a small town this is. People are upset with me, Charity. They’re taking their business to other real estate agents. It’s not fair to me. We weren’t engaged. We weren’t married. People need to stop taking sides.”
“I agree. It’s no one’s business but yours and mine.”
“Thank you. Now help me fix this.”
“Fix it how?” she asked, wrapping her soft knit scarf around her neck.
“I don’t know. Spread the word that we’re okay. Have a drink with me in public so everyone will know we’re on good terms.”
She shuddered with distaste. “First of all, I haven’t tried to poison anyone. If people are upset, it’s because everyone knew about you seeing Meghan and they felt bad for me. I don’t like being pitied so this isn’t fun for me, either. And in the future, remember that Marietta is a small town and bad news travels fast.”
“I need those clients, Charity.”
“Then have some integrity,” she flashed.
He cursed and reached for her again but suddenly the golden retriever was there, pushing between them, growling at Greg, keeping him back.
“Hey!” Greg exclaimed, swinging his foot at the dog. “Go, get. Scram!”
“Leave him alone,” Charity snapped, drawing the dog away from Greg. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? This dog almost attacked—”
“He didn’t attack. He just growled at you.” She rubbed the retriever’s ear, and then the top of his head. The dog’s coat was rough. He hadn’t been combed in ages.
“He’s a menace. I’m going to call the sheriff’s office and report him. He’s been running around town for the past few days.”
“You report him, and I’ll report you.”
“For what?”
“For threatening my dog.”
“He’s not your dog.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Charity, he’s not your dog. You don’t have a dog. I know. I’ve been to your house.”
“I recently adopted him.”
“As in just now?”
“It’s none of your business. He’s my dog.”
“So what’s his name?”
“Noel.”
“Noel? For a male dog?”
“Yes.”
He rolled his eyes, disgusted. “Now who’s the liar?”
“I’m not lying. I’m going to keep him until I find his owners.”
“He may just be a stray.”
“Then maybe he’s just found his forever home.” She gave Greg a defiant smile, and patted her leg, signaling the dog to follow, and thankfully, Noel did.
*
Rory couldn’t get out to the tree farm for the afternoon as he’d promised, and Trey Sheenan, McKenna’s husband, came in his place.
Once upon a time Trey had been a huge problem for Quinn and Rory, but now that Trey and McKenna were finally together, settled and strong, Trey had become someone the entire family relied on. Trey had completely turned his life around, and that transformation inspired Quinn, and reaffirmed his belief in a higher power.
But even with his faith, Quinn struggled with his purpose. People liked to tell him that there was a reason he hadn’t died in the tragedy at the ranch, but he hadn’t discovered that purpose yet.
As a teenager, Quinn had wrestled with questions and doubts, and sometimes the doubts returned. In those moments he prayed for strength, not wanting to let his parents down, aware that he was their legacy, and that he needed to succeed for them, to prove that they had been good people, loving people, and that their love and life hadn’t been in vain.
He told no one this.
He was an athlete, and people wanted him to make great plays and provide entertainment, but at home, when he was alone, he felt an aching awareness that there should be more.
He was supposed to do more.
But what?
Perhaps the plan had not yet been revealed, and maybe the challenge was to keep believing. His parents had lived in faith. They had reached out to everyone, giving to all. Their generosity had sometimes made it difficult for them to pay their bills, but he would have it no other way.
Friends mattered, family mattered, community mattered. Community helped him heal after he was injured. Everyone in Marietta had wished him well, rallying around the three of them—Rory, Quinn and McKenna—and he’d been so grateful for the support that once he was back at high school, every time there was a local fund-raiser, he took part. Every time there was a car wash or a trash pickup, he volunteered. He did that all the way through high school and college. But after being drafted he didn’t come home as much, not intentionally distancing himself from Marietta, but he was focused on his career, thinking that maybe he’d do something in baseball that would matter. But in the end, his athletic accomplishments weren’t that significant. He wasn’t one of the greats; he’d never join the Hall of Fame.
Quinn felt the clap of a firm hand on his back.
“You all right?” Trey’s deep voice asked gruffly.
Quinn grimaced. “Am I exuding bad vibes?”
Trey gave him another firm pat on the back and then shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “You wouldn’t know how to exude bad vibes, and that’s saying something because I know what you have been through.”
“I don’t think of it that way. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“That doesn’t mean coming home isn’t hard for you. Things have changed since you were the most valuable player at Marietta High.”
Quinn’s lips twisted. “It’s more complicated now, for sure.”
“It takes time to make a place home, not easy when your job is on the West Coast.” Trey paused. “But it helps when there is something, or someone here, that calls you back.”
“You mean family.”
“Or a pretty girl.”
