Through the Fire (14 page)

R
ae was in the midst of putting her few purchases under the tree, thinking about the afternoon she’d spent with Maxine, and the revelations that were presented to her, the new things she’d learned about Quinn.

Maxine had turned out to be nothing like whom she’d imagined. She wasn’t just another “baby’s mama” but a true woman in every sense of the word. On the way home, she’d even told her about her brand-new pregnancy
and how excited she was about having Taylor’s child. She had solidly laid her fears to rest. It was up to Rae now as to how she and Quinn proceeded, not the ghosts of Nikita and Maxine who would determine their future. She only hoped that Quinn would feel the same way.

She was just about to call him when her doorbell rang. Inwardly she smiled, knowing that it must be him, wanting to get the inside scoop on what had transpired. But she quickly discovered that wasn’t his reason for the visit.

The instant she saw him, she knew something was terribly wrong, that something had happened to Jamel or Mrs. Finch.

“Quinn, what is it?” She searched his stoic face, stepping aside to let him in. She touched his arm, but he kept walking as if she weren’t there.

Mechanically, he walked into the living room and sat on one of the large pillows on the floor, his arms between his knees, head bowed.

She hurried over to him, kneeling down. “Baby, what is it? You’re scaring me. Whatever it is, just tell me,” she urged, her mind now running at full speed.

Slowly he looked up into her eyes, which were filled with worry, concern…and yes, love. He swallowed hard and began to force out the words, one by one, needing to say them, release the unbearable weight that rested on his chest.

When he was done he realized he was gripping Rae’s hand and that the simple gesture had somehow helped him to work through it all, relive it again without feeling so terribly alone. He looked into her eyes and saw the tears shimmering there. She raised his hand to her lips and tenderly kissed it.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, what I think. After it happened I went to see Maxine and—”

“Maxine?” She shook her head in confusion. “W-why did you go to Maxine, Quinn?”

“Doing what I’ve always done, Rae, going to something familiar,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you think you could come to me with…something like this?” she asked, the hurt evident in her voice. “I mean, I know you and Maxine have a history, but—”

“Baby, I wasn’t thinking, not really.” He cupped her cheek. “She told me as much.”

“Told you what, Quinn?” she asked hesitantly.

“Told me that I had to stop looking for something familiar, something easy, something I wouldn’t have to give too much of myself to in return for all the things I needed.” He paused a beat. “She told me we’re different people now with new and different lives, and it was time to move on.” He looked deep into her eyes. “And she was right, Rae.”

“Are you ready to move on, Quinn? Really?” She squeezed his hands between hers. “Will you run back to Maxine whenever there’s a crisis in your life, some accomplishment, or joy to share? Are you truly past it all…past Maxine?”

He didn’t hesitate a beat. “Yes, Rae. I am. You’ve got to believe that.”

She sat back on her haunches, relieved now that maybe she could help with what the real reason for his visit was.

“What are you going to do about…your mother?” she asked gently.

He shook his head, his features suddenly contorting. “I don’t have a mother.”

“Quinn, I know you may not want to hear this, but your… She reached out to you for a reason. Guilt is a heavy burden, Quinn. You and I both know that. Sometimes we believe we do things for all the right reasons. Sometimes they’re selfish reasons. Sometimes we’re so involved in our own world, our own issues, we can no longer see how what we do affects others.” Her voice wavered as she thought of herself, what she’d done in her life, to her husband and daughter, thinking of how many sleepless nights she’d wished that she could turn back the clock, regain all the time she’d lost with them. But she couldn’t. No one could.

“I’d give anything to get it all back, Quinn. Let them know how sorry I was. How I regretted the times I left them. Most of us don’t get a second chance to make things right, to make amends. You have that chance, Quinn.”

“It’s…too late. Too many years. Too much pain, lost time, lives…”

“It’s never too late,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Never too late to change, to forgive and be forgiven. When I met you, Quinten Parker, I’d finally found something besides my
music that could fill my life, that was worthwhile, that gave my days new meaning. It didn’t hurt so much anymore. You did that for me. And I’ve slowly begun to realize that there was nothing we could have done, Quinn,” she said softly. “You couldn’t have stopped your mother from leaving, couldn’t have stopped what happened to your sister or your wife. Just as I couldn’t have stopped what happened to Sterling and Akia.

“And we can either choose to accept the blame, the guilt for something we had no control over, because it’s easier to be the martyr, to keep people at bay, our emotions tucked away and out of reach so we can’t be hurt—or we can choose the hard road where we expose ourselves to all the possibilities, the joys, and the pains of life.”

“I don’t know how, Rae. How can I just forget it all as if it never happened?”

“You don’t forget. You’ll never forget, the good or the bad. But you forgive, so you can release the burden you’ve been carrying. Forgive your sister for unintentionally being in the wrong place at the wrong time and
leaving you. Forgive Nikita for driving at night, for not seeing the oncoming car, for leaving you. Forgive your mother for letting her weakness take her away from you. If you can do that, finally do that, the healing you’ve been searching for will finally begin.”

The words seeped into his pores, spread through him like a healing elixir. Slowly his heart began to open, his soul began to stir. That was the key all along. Deep in his heart he blamed them. Each of them. And he carried the blame, the anger, and turned it on himself. Taking the easy way out by accepting responsibility for something he could not control, rather than find fault with those to whom he’d given his love. Finally, all the pieces were falling into place. The elusive part of himself that he’d lost was now within reach.

Tenderly he gathered Rae in his arms, pressing her body close to his, allowing the full essence of this woman to become a part of him, enter him, letting her love soothe the wounds, make him whole. And it was then he knew just how right Maxine had been. Rae was willing to accept him with all his baggage, his dents
and scuffs, and drag him into tomorrow kicking and screaming. She was willing to work as hard as he, not wanting him to change but to grow, right along with her.

“I…I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, Rae,” he repeated, the words like a prayer that had been answered.

Her heart filled, and an incredible warmth, a singular joy coursed through her body. She leaned back, looking into his dark eyes. “And I’ll never leave you,” she promised.

He touched her lips with his, sealing their pact, their bond, their future, and hoped that her promise would remain true.

R
ae thought she’d be a nervous wreck preparing Christmas brunch for Maxine and her husband. But the minute Maxine came through the door she insisted on pitching in, and Taylor was a doll, doting on his wife as if she were royalty. She could see why Maxine was mad about him. What was really special was that it was Rae’s first Christmas with Quinn, the first she or Quinn had celebrated in three years. And it was the first time he’d celebrated Christmas
with his son, who’d been up since dawn squealing over his toys under Quinn’s tree. It truly was a day to be thankful.

Quinn eased up behind her and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. “You’ve gotten real comfortable in my kitchen,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist and erotically rotating his pelvis against her bottom.

Rae playfully slapped his hands. “Quinn,” she said in a hushed voice. “We have company. Suppose somebody sees us.”

He reached over her shoulder and snatched a carrot stick from a tray. “Then I’d have to confess that I’m crazy about you and can’t keep my hands off you.”

She turned into his arms, looked coyly up at him. “That’s why I love you, Quinten Parker. You always know what to say to a girl.” She pecked him lightly on the lips. “Now scram. You’re in my way.”

“The lady of the house has spoken.” He patted her bottom and returned to his guests.

The afternoon went off without a hitch as each of them shared war stories and anecdotes, with both Quinn and Taylor trying valiantly to
help Jamel put his erector set together. Even Gail stopped by to drop off gifts—and to get an up-close look at Maxine, Rae secretly knew. And with much prodding from Quinn, Mrs. Finch joined them and contributed dessert.

Maxine and Taylor had promised to join Maxine’s mother for dinner and to bring her grandson so she could spoil him some more, Maxine said as they put on their coats and began to leave.

While Quinn helped Jamel to the car with all of his Christmas loot, Maxine turned to Rae.

“I’m really glad I met you,” she said sincerely. “You’re good for him. I see the changes.”

Rae smiled. “He’s good for me, too.”

Maxine reached over and hugged her. “Be happy,” she whispered in her ear. “Be there for him and he’ll never let you down.”

“I will. I promise.”

Quinn listened to Rae’s easy breathing as they lay spooned against each other, after making slow, passionate love. While she slept, he stroked her hair, studied her face. The events of the day played back in slow motion, each
scene, each smiling face, the true happiness he felt. Rae brought that to his life. For that he would be forever grateful.

The past few months had been hard, almost unbearable at times, but he’d gotten through them. Through the fire, as Rae had said, to the safety on the other side, and she’d been there waiting. And she deserved the best of him, all of him, and in order to do that, to come to her fully, he had to complete the last piece of the puzzle.

Quinn sat in his Jeep for a good half hour, staring at the entrance to Encore. He knew she was inside, he’d seen her go in. He started to go after her then, but he had no idea what he could say to her. He still didn’t know as he pushed through the doors.

“We’re not open yet, sir,” one of the waitresses immediately informed him, recognizing him from the episode a few days earlier. She didn’t want any trouble.

“I’m looking for Vera Parker.”

“Look, mister, I said we’re not open. I think you need to leave.”

He ignored her and continued into the res
taurant. It would be easy to take her warning and just leave. He didn’t do easy these days. He looked around, hoping that he would spot her before the frightened girl called for backup.

There she was, bent over a table, washing it down and replacing the used ashtrays with clean ones. His stomach knotted. Tentatively he headed in her direction and took a seat at the table next to the one she was working on. Surprise, then a sense of what appeared to be relief, which was quickly replaced by uncertainty, danced across her worn face.

For the first time he could see beyond his anger and hurt to the devastation that had painted itself permanently into her features. The eyes that had no sparkle, the stoop to the once proud shoulders. Her body spoke of the abuse she’d put it through, and all around her hung a veil of aloneness. How he understood that feeling. This is what her choices had done to her.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“We need to talk,” Quinn responded in a flat monotone, still hoping that the words would come to him.

Vera looked around, then slowly pulled out
a chair opposite him and sat. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I—”

“I don’t need to hear sorry…Vera. I need to hear why. Why did you do it? Why did you let ‘the life’ become more important than me and Lacy? And I don’t wanna hear nothin’ but the truth. I need to know
why
I am, who I am. Who you really are. Why we never knew our father. Answers to all the questions you were never around long enough to give.”

She locked and unlocked her fingers, trying to figure out where to begin, how it all started. It was so long ago, sometimes it seemed like a distant memory, at others as clear as yesterday.
Start at the beginning. Tell him,
an inner voice whispered.

“I was young,” she began, her voice a bit unsteady. “Only sixteen when I met your father. He was going on twenty.” She smiled tremulously. “I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. And the fact that he had an eye for Vera Johnson was more than I could have ever dreamed of. I think I fell in love with your daddy the first time I laid eyes on him behind the counter at the movie theater,” she said wistfully.

“We started seeing each other regular. He used to treat me so good. Always had a kind word and a gentle touch.” She paused for a moment and looked away. “When I turned up pregnant, he didn’t run off like some of those other boys had done to friends of mine. Not Jake Parker. He told me no child of his would grow up without a daddy.” She swallowed hard, the memories of that first and only love washing over her in waves. “With my folks being dead and all, my old aunt didn’t want to have nothing to do with taking care of a teenage girl and her baby. Jake said we didn’t need nobody but each other. So we ran off and got married. I’d just turned eighteen.”

Quinn tried to imagine his mother as a young girl in love, away from home with a child on the way. How she could have turned from that girl into the woman she’d become. But he would listen, as Remy had wisely advised. Listen and let things unfold.

“We struggled. Barely made it some days, living from place to place, having to move every time the rent was due. Jake found odd jobs, here and there, but nothing really solid. It was hard
on black men back then, still is. And when two babies came instead of one, it took a toll on both of us.” She stopped as if that was the end of her story, as if that would explain it all.

“You still haven’t told me why you did it,” Quinn ground out.

Vera snapped from her musings and focused on Quinn.
He looks so much like Jake,
she thought suddenly.

“It’s hard on a man when he can’t provide for his family. Takes the man out of him,” she said in a voice filled with regret. “I watched that proud man day by day become reduced. Come home beaten by the world. And when he looked at the three of us, all he saw was a battle he couldn’t win.”

Quinn’s pulse beat with anxiety waiting to hear the words.

“One day Jake said he was going to look for work. He left that morning…and I never seen him again.” Her eyes momentarily filled, and she blinked the tears away.

Quinn shook his head in disgust. “So he was no better than you.”

She reached for him, saw him recoil, and
slowly pulled her hand back. “It wasn’t like that. Your father was a good man, a decent man,” she insisted.

“Yeah, a man who walked away from his family.”

“I started getting letters, a few months after he disappeared,” she continued, refusing to allow her memories of Jake to be turned into something ugly. He didn’t deserve that. “Plain, white envelopes with no return address, with a few dollars tucked inside.”

“What did the letters say?” Quinn asked.

“That he was doing the best thing he could. And that for as long as he was breathing he would send us something. But he could no longer face us, be a man in our eyes. You and your sister was growing like weeds and the few dollars that your daddy sent wasn’t enough. So I started working at a club, as a waitress, and after a while even that wasn’t enough. Y’all were getting big, needing things. Then one day, the letters stopped coming. I waited and waited, prayed and waited.” Her voice broke into jagged edges. “And finally I realized I wasn’t never gonna hear from him again. That it was up to me
now. A man at the club told me a way I would make some more money if I really wanted to. I started…giving myself to men…for money. Started taking the drugs so I wouldn’t feel anything. Went on for years, till the habit got so bad I needed all the money for the drugs.

“One night I came home and you were sitting on that raggedy couch. When I walked through the door, full of drugs, booze…and saw the hurt, disappointed look in your eyes, I knew I couldn’t stay, couldn’t never see you look at me like that again.”

The image of her in that red dress, her lipstick smeared and her stockings twisted around her legs, loomed before him. He remembered how he helped her to bed, put the cover over her, and shut the door so Lacy wouldn’t see her. How powerless he felt.

“I could have helped you,” he said, his voice vibrating in his chest. “I would have if you’d let me.”

“You couldn’t have helped me. Nobody could. Not then. I saw how strong you were, and I knew that if I left you’d make a way. I knew that.”

“All this time, all these years I spent not knowing. Not understanding. Lacy and I did the best we could. Tried to make a life.”

“Tell me about her…about you.”

He gave her brief snatches, blurry glimpses of the life they lived, the teens, then adults they’d become, keeping most of the precious memories to himself, denying her that one wish. And as she listened she realized what her choice had ultimately done. It robbed them all. Robbed them of a time in their lives they could never regain. And just as her words to Quinn could not make up for what she’d put them through, what she heard now would never fill the voids that her absence had created. There was no going back. All they could hope to do now was find a way to move forward—finally.

Slowly Quinn looked up at her, surprised to see tears and a look of resolve on her face as she wearily stood.

“I know you won’t believe this, but you’re blessed in a way. Blessed with strength and courage and most of all memories of a time I will never know, can never be a part of, that will be denied to me forever. And for all that I’ve
done that is my greatest regret, the time I lost being a mother to my children. You’re a good man…son. A man any mother…would be proud to call her own. Even me.” She turned to walk away, doing all she could have done and hoping that he would finally be all right and maybe one day find it in his heart to forgive her.

“Mama…” The foreign word struggled up from his throat.

She turned around, her heart hammering in her chest. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth, not knowing what to expect.

“I…I know I’ll never forget what you did.” He swallowed, looked away for a moment, thought about all the hard roads he’d traveled, the fires he’d survived, and he knew he could get through this, too—by finally letting go. “But I can start trying to forgive.”

Tentatively she reached for him, then stopped halfway. And then she felt something she hadn’t in longer than she could remember—the touch of her son’s hand slipping into hers.