A Week From Sunday (28 page)

“But, then—”

“He’s a lying conniver, Quinn,” she continued, cutting him off again. “I believe he coerced my father into signing papers that gave him control of my inheritance. He thinks it gave him control of me too. I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth.” The words flew out of her mouth quickly, as if she were pleading a life-or-death case. “That’s why I was on the road the day that I struck your truck. I was running away from Shreveport, from Richard and the life that he had picked out for me. I had to get away!”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I . . . I . . . didn’t see any reason to,” she sputtered. As if the dam had been released on a raging river, hot tears began to slide down her cheeks. “All I wanted to do was get away from Richard.”

“Then you should have just told that stubborn son of a bitch that your answer was ‘no’!” Quinn barked. “Tell him how you feel and that you want another kind of life.”

“Richard Pope isn’t the type of man who takes rejection well,” she protested. “He’s in charge of everything I have. I don’t even have a home.” Her tears turned into sobs that racked her whole body. She tried to wipe the wetness from her eyes but did little to stop their flow. “He’ll never leave me alone! He’ll keep following me, pestering me, trying to wear me down until I give in. I would rather die than marry him!”

Slowly, Quinn made his way over to her. He sat down gently on the bed beside her, taking her trembling hand in his own, his skin warm to the touch. “I think I might have a solution.”

“What?”

He waited until she looked in his eyes before saying, “You could marry me instead. Then I’d have the right to keep him away from you.”

The power of his words hit her with so much force that it was as if she had been struck by the truck all over again. She couldn’t breathe, and the only sound she could hear was the thunderous pounding of her heart. She searched his face for some sign that he was joking but couldn’t find any. “Are . . . are . . . you serious?” she stammered.

“Absolutely,” he said simply.

“Oh, but I couldn’t let you do that. Marriage is forever.”

“I know that.”

“You might find someone you really like. You’d be tied to me.”

It was as if she were struck with another bout of the illness that had brought her there, her world turned upside down. But this time, rather than pain, the cause of her malady was confusion. Finally, she managed to say, “I could only marry a man that I loved and who loved me.”

“Do you think I could marry a woman I didn’t love?” Quinn’s dark brows were drawn together in a fierce frown. “Did Lola tell you that there was something between her and me?”

“More than once.”

“I swear to you, Annie, I am not interested in Lola or anyone else but you, if you’ll have me. I have no feelings for Lola but pity. She comes from a dirt poor family with a house full of kids. I gave her the job to help her out. She was real good . . . at first.” Quinn studied Adrianna intently for a long moment, thinking how pretty she was and how he would spend his life taking care of her if she let him. Suddenly he asked, “Do you love Richard?”

“No,” she blurted out venomously. “I detest him!”

“Could you learn to love me?”

His words set Adrianna’s hand trembling but Quinn held her steady, his eyes locked onto her own as he searched the depths for her answer. The forwardness of his words shocked her. She tried to speak, but it was as if her mouth had been stuffed with cotton.

Suddenly, the door to the room flew open and the doctor entered, slamming it shut behind her with a crash, Richard’s voice shrill behind her. She appeared flustered, her cheeks a bright crimson.

“That man is insufferable!” she complained, pulling an unruly strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I swear, if he isn’t allowed into this room soon, he’s going to try to break the door down. He’s threatening to get the sheriff. He even says he has influence with the attorney general.”

“I won’t see him!” Adrianna protested. “I just can’t!”

“You don’t have to,” Quinn said calmly. He held her hand in both of his. Turning to Dr. Bordeaux, he asked, “Hey, Doc. You still have that stretcher we used to move Jesse from the car?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

The corners of Quinn’s mouth rose. “I’ve got an idea.”

Chapter 23

“‘. . .
AND THEN
S
HERIFF
Wayne slid his brilliantly polished silver pistol into his holster, patted his trusty steed Shylock on his dusty flank, and rode off into the setting sun, turning his back forever on the poor souls of Tombstone. His work, as always, was done.’”

Jesse closed the pulp magazine and leaned back in his chair, a broad smile crossing his youthful face. His eyes danced. “So what do you think?” he asked.

“It was . . . interesting,” Adrianna offered.

“That’s all you’ve got to say? Interesting?” Jesse was incredulous. “You must not have been paying any attention! What about the part where Sheriff Wayne shot that train robber in the saloon? Or when he beat up that city slicker for tryin’ to cheat him at cards? Or when that lady kissed him to reward him for protectin’ her honor? That just has to be the best Sheriff Wayne story ever!”

From where she lay in her bed, Adrianna laughed heartily at Jesse’s enthusiasm. In the three days since Quinn had brought her back from the doctor’s office, Jesse had come to read to her nightly. The choice of material, his favorite tales from his pulp magazine collection, might not have been her cup of tea, but she was always grateful for his company.

Quinn’s idea had been a sound one. He and Gabe had borrowed Dr. Bordeaux’s stretcher and, after gently loading Adrianna onto it, had made their way out the back door of the office. While the doctor went out to try to handle Richard, they’d hurried their charge across town and back into her room at the Baxter home. From that moment, her life had been relatively peaceful. She’d had several visitors; Gabe, in particular, had made several stops. The doctor had also come to check in on her regularly. To her great relief, Lola had kept her distance. But her greatest joy was reserved for the fact that there was no way Richard could get to her now.

Much to Lola’s chagrin, Quinn had been attentive to Adrianna through it all. He had spent every minute with her when he wasn’t working. He’d brought her her evening meals, looked in on her at all hours during the night. They’d talked for hours, but the subject of his proposal and whether or not she could love him hadn’t come up again.
At least not yet,
she thought to herself, as she lay looking out the window.

“I hope you found that book by Ralph Waldo Emerson just as exciting,” Adrianna said to Jesse, alluding to the reading she had given him the day before as part of his schoolwork.

“Aww, jeez, Annie,” Jesse whined. “Readin’ that stuff was about as much fun as bustin’ rocks!”

“You still need to read it.” She sighed. “Schoolwork is something you must take seriously if you want to graduate. You should try to make the most of this.”

“Then why does it have to be so darn boring? I don’t have the slightest idea what it is I’m supposed to be learnin’ when I’m readin’ stuff about walkin’ around in the woods and all that,” he complained. He slapped one hand against the pulp magazine and added, “These are the only things that give me any hope of ever gettin’ out of this damn chair.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he began as he straightened himself in the wheelchair, “when I read these stories, I can travel to the Sargasso Sea, plunge down into a diamond mine in Africa, or get into a shootout in the Old West. All of those places sound so much more exciting than Lee’s Point that I just want to start walkin’ again so I can get the hell outta this town.”

“You want to leave Lee’s Point?” Adrianna asked in surprise.

“Hell, yeah, I want to!” Jesse crowed. “I know you haven’t been here too long, but you can’t help but notice that there isn’t a lot that goes on here. I’m not gonna spend my whole life livin’ in the same place just because I was born here.”

“But what about the Whipsaw?” she asked. “Quinn said that he was taking care of it so you could take over when you were older. He said it would be your legacy.”

“Did he ever ask me if it was what I wanted?” Jesse said loudly, his voice nearly rising to a shout. “Ever since I found myself in this damn chair, all I’ve heard is how as soon as I’m able, I’ll get to run that bar. That’s what Quinn wants! Can you imagine what it’s like not being able to make your own choices? Would you want someone always tellin’ you what to do?”

Once again, Adrianna was reminded just how much she had in common with each of the Baxter boys. Like Jesse, her life was often laid out before her regardless of whether she agreed with its direction or not. Richard’s declaration of love and marriage certainly didn’t take her own views into account. If she were to find herself in Jesse’s position, she realized she would react with the same anger and resentment.

“No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t like it at all.”

“So what am I supposed to do about it? If I told Quinn that I didn’t want that old bar, he’d be disappointed.”

Somewhere deep in her mind, an idea occurred to Adrianna. Maybe there was something she could do that would help
both
of their situations. A thin smile formed on her lips. “You just worry about finishing your schoolwork,” she assured him. “Leave the rest to me.”

That evening, Quinn knocked lightly on Adrianna’s door before entering. He was carrying a makeshift tray on which he had balanced a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, several slices of bread, an apple, and a tall glass of milk. Placing it gently on the bed beside her, he stepped back to smile approvingly.

“Dinner is served.”

“Soup again?” Adrianna needled him playfully. “Doesn’t this make three days in a row?”

“It seems to be all that sits well in your stomach,” he said. “If you don’t want it, I’ll run downstairs and tell Lola to whip you up some eggs.”

Jesse had told Adrianna that Lola had said, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t going to wait on her, cook for her, or do anything else for her. According to Jesse, Quinn and Lola had a big ruckus, and Quinn had told Lola to do as she was told and to stay away from Adrianna or he would fire her. Jesse said Lola had cried and said she was sorry, and begged him not to fire her. Quinn gave in.

Quinn sat silently as Adrianna ate. Slowly, her appetite was returning to the point where she was eating a little more. It would be only a matter of days before she had her strength back. After she had finished her dinner, he removed the tray, then reseated himself by her bed.

Adrianna held his eyes playfully for a moment, but that was all it took for the darkness that had tainted her life in Lee’s Point to start coloring the edges of her thoughts. Somewhere out there was a living, breathing nightmare who was waiting for her. Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, “He’s still out there, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so,” Quinn said matter-of-factly. “Gabe said he’s got a room over at the Bellevue Hotel and spends his days tramping over to the telephone office and back. It’s plain that he’s up to something. Lord only knows what.”

Even though Adrianna had felt secure in the safety that the Baxter house provided, the thought of Richard close by unsettled even her happiest moments. She’d been awakened the night before by the sound of tapping at her window. She’d been paralyzed with fear, absolutely certain that Richard was trying to break in and snatch her out into the night, until she had realized that it was merely the branches of the elm tree tapping on the window. Sooner or later, she would have to settle things with Richard Pope; she couldn’t stay bedridden for the rest of her life.

“Whatever am I going to do about him?” she asked nervously. “He’s never going to simply give up and go back to Shreveport. If he’s staying in town, that means he’s still set on taking me with him.”

Quinn took her hand in his own as gently as if he were cradling an egg. “Hush now about all that business,” he soothed. “Right now, that man is the last thing you should be worrying about. The important thing is how you’re feeling. Have you had any more pains?”

“A few. Not as bad as before.”

“Listen to what I’m telling you,” he scolded her. “I may not be as smart as the doc when it comes to this medical stuff, but on this I’m certain I’m right. You have to stay in bed until you’re recovered to the doctor’s satisfaction.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Darn tootin’!” He grinned, cradling her small chin between his thumb and forefinger. As she stared into the depths of his gray eyes, Adrianna realized how easy it would be to become lost in them. Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she looked away, her face flushing.

“I really do feel better,” she said quickly. “Between the doctor’s visits, Jesse’s wild stories, and the soup, I’ll be dancing on top of a table at the Whipsaw before you know it!”

“I would like to see that.” His grin was endearing.

“You just might be surprised. I took tap dancing lessons when I was a child.”

Quinn paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face. He took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and said, “Do you feel up to having a more serious talk?”