Rocky mountain lion, p.25
Rocky Mountain Lion, page 25
A while later, she stood by the window, observing the men playing football in the freshly fallen snow. The yard was brilliantly illuminated, courtesy of Hank’s craftsmanship with the chainsaw, which had been used to carve sections of a tree trunk into vertical torches. The effect was simply enchanting. Donovan and Archer were in the midst of a playful tussle over the football. It appeared that Archer’s injury wasn’t causing him significant issues, or perhaps he was merely ignoring the pain.
Her arm instinctively extended toward the window, but she halted at the last moment. Presumably, he wouldn’t appreciate her intervention any more than she would his. She pondered his words, cherished like a precious gem in her heart: he loved her. She wondered if it was indeed true. Her feathered friend cocked its head curiously, picking up on her quickening heartbeat, and responded with a hopeful chirp.
“Stubborn feathered creature,” she muttered under her breath.
Anna, who had quietly sidled up next to her, gave Quinn a puzzled look. “What did you say?”
Caught off guard, Quinn offered a self-deprecating smile. “Pay no mind to me. I’m just talking to myself.”
“I know that one.” They both gazed out the window at their respective men. After a while, Anna huffed, “Didn’t you mention something about a bird?”
Quinn glanced at her sidelong. “I might have... Why?”
“Oh, no particular reason. It seems I have one nesting inside me.”
“In your head?”
“More like in my heart,” Anna confessed with a sigh. “Every time I get lost in impossible daydreams it chimes in with a comment. I was hoping I wasn’t the only one. Because otherwise, I’m actually starting to worry about my mental health.”
Quinn snorted. “I can put your mind at ease; I’ve got one of those, too.” She wrinkled her nose. “But he also pipes up when I have less... shall we say, innocent thoughts. Kissing and such, he seems to approve of. At least he has the decency to keep quiet afterward... until the next opportunity, of course.”
Anna bit her lip, as if struggling to believe what she was hearing. “Maybe we should start a survey. What if other women are plagued by this bird syndrome?”
“It might be something in the water around here,” Quinn replied, though she knew better. Her bird was associated with one person in particular, the incredibly wonderful man who had just landed on his back in the snow outside.
Archer looked up at the night sky from his awkward position in the snow, his gaze turned to the house. Quinn stood by the window, her attention seemingly far away. A sudden urge welled up within him to go to her and make sure she was alright. She had appeared oddly distant since dinner. Perhaps she was fatigued, or maybe the pain was bothering her again, he surmised. Archer climbed to his feet, brushing the snow from his clothing.
“Hey, where are you going?” Pat shouted as he prepared to throw the football.
“Inside. I have something to do,” Archer called back.
Pat’s eyes followed Archer’s line of sight, and a knowing smile crossed his face.
“Sure thing.”
Stealthily, Archer entered the living room, although Quinn detected his presence. Several dog tails wagged joyfully on the floor, making it impossible for anyone to approach without notice.
She turned to face him. Anna had gone to the kitchen earlier to assist Lara and Paula with cleaning up, leaving them alone in the room.
Archer halted next to the large fireplace, where a fire still flickered. He stretched out his hand to Quinn, who walked hesitantly toward him. When she was within reach, he gently pulled her into his arms.
“Are you okay?” he inquired.
Quinn nodded. Tonight, she didn’t want to discuss her fears and hopes. She simply didn’t have the energy for it.
“Then come outside with me. The scenery is simply magical. There are chairs on the porch, along with blankets.”
“Good idea,” Quinn agreed, relieved to avoid further questions about her condition.
Archer wrapped them in the warm blankets and fetched cups of hot chocolate from the kitchen. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the Christmas cookies. Quinn felt her spirits lift. There was no use in worrying. She’d rather savor the moment here with him.
“By the way, I’ve been pondering your question,” Archer casually mentioned after settling beside her.
“My question?” she repeated cautiously.
“Yes.”
“What was my question?” she asked.
Unfortunately, she suspected she knew exactly which question he meant, although she wasn’t sure she was interested in an answer anymore, especially not now, in this beautiful moment. Most likely, he wanted to subtly remind her that his time in Independence was drawing to a close.
Before he could say anything else, she placed a finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything. Today is not the time for questions or answers.”
Archer fell silent, and she wondered if she had changed her mind. Perhaps she didn’t want him to stay in Independence after all.
“I’d rather enjoy the time I have with you instead of discussing things that can’t be changed,” she added lightly.
Relieved, Archer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It didn’t sound like she had altered her stance. Rather, it appeared she wasn’t sure of his answer. He held her even closer, relieved.
“Alright, not today,” he agreed.
The little bird in Quinn’s heart chirped softly, reassured that she would appreciate the answer when she eventually gathered the courage to ask the question once more. For once, she was grateful for its opinion. Feeling reassured, she nestled closer to Archer. Now, she was free to cherish the evening.
EPILOGUE
“Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?” Quinn asked.
Archer nodded.
His insistence on accompanying her to the nursing home puzzled her. She dreaded the visit. Her mother’s sharp comments were already hard to endure in the privacy of her own home, let alone in front of dozens of strangers. That morning, she had tried to explain her concerns to him at great length, but he wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Alright, if that’s your idea of a pleasant Christmas Day, I won’t stand in your way,” she replied.
He took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
In a gloomy mood and torn between contradictory emotions whenever her parents were involved, Quinn gazed out the car window. As they approached the “retirement home,” as the brochure marketed it, she couldn’t deny that the place looked nice.
Large windows offered a view of the surrounding plateau with the Rocky Mountains in the background. A sprawling, park-like garden encircled the building.
While deserted during winter, the grounds would certainly provide a pleasant respite on warmer days.
“You’re here, so I’m here,” Archer patiently explained to her.
They had arrived, and if Archer changed his mind, he’d have to wait in the car.
He parked near the entrance.
She managed to exit the truck without Archer’s assistance. Although she would continue to feel the aftereffects of her ordeal for a while, the pain had significantly lessened.
Archer’s arm was healing well, as she had seen that morning when she had insisted on watching him change the bandage. Apparently, not even their football game in the snow had caused him harm.
She turned around and firmly but kindly shut the door in Braveheart’s face. He wasn’t happy when he realized he had to wait in the car. Whimpering, he pressed his nose to the window and watched them. Quinn felt sorry for him, but she had no control over the nursing home’s pet policy. Since her parents weren’t dog enthusiasts, it hardly mattered.
A friendly receptionist, Charlotte Harold, greeted her, with a name tag on her uniform.
“Welcome to Sunny Peaks Resort. How can I assist you?”
“I’m here to visit my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Davies. They moved in when I was unwell,” Quinn explained, feeling compelled to provide some context.
“I understand,” Charlotte replied, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Quinn felt a bit more at ease. Perhaps she wouldn’t be ostracized for shirking her daughterly duties… at least not by the staff, she added silently. Her parents were a different matter.
“Do you wish to see your father first, or would you prefer to visit your mother initially?”
Surprised, Quinn looked at the woman. “Uh... aren’t they together?”
“As you’re aware, your father suffers from advanced dementia. He spends most of his time contentedly in front of the television. On the other hand, your mother is a very active person.”
For the second time in twenty-four hours, someone had referred to her mother as “active.” Could there be a mix-up? Alien abductions were often spoken of, but Quinn swiftly dismissed those absurd thoughts.
“In that case, I’d like to see my father.”
“You’ll find him in our memory wing. On the first floor, to your left when you exit the elevator. If you’re looking for your mother afterward, you’ll likely find her in the bridge room on the first floor. All the rooms are clearly marked.”
Quinn wandered down the hallway to the elevator like a sleepwalker, murmuring to herself, “Active.”
Archer took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Sounds good to me.”
“Absolutely. I just can’t wrap my head around that word when it comes to my mother. Maybe they do personality transplants here too?” she mused, continuing to explain her feelings.
Archer chuckled softly. “You’re about to find out.”
The enclosed section of the memory ward had a circular layout, ensuring that residents always returned to their starting point, regardless of the direction they ventured. Quinn had appreciated the logical design when reading about it on the internet. Overall, she was taken aback by the modernity of the entire facility.
They found her father in the common room, seated in one of the large recliners, his legs covered with a blanket. He gazed fixedly at the television. Carefully, Quinn perched on the armrest and lightly touched his arm.
“Hi, Dad,” she greeted him. There was no response.
“Do you like it here?” she tried again. Still, no reaction. “It’s Quinn.”
Her father swatted at the air as if shooing away a fly. “Not now. No time for visitors,” he muttered gruffly.
Deeply troubled by his absence, Quinn stood up. A nurse who had observed the non-interaction approached them.
“Don’t worry. He’s doing well. He spends most of his time here. For now, he only dines downstairs with his wife,” she reassured Quinn, who appeared visibly distressed.
Taking a step away from her father, Quinn spoke somberly, “He’s been deteriorating lately, but for him not to even acknowledge me...”
Archer felt helpless but knew that he couldn’t do much to assist Quinn at the moment. With no other plan in mind, he lightly placed his arm around her waist.
“Behavior often changes when life circumstances fluctuate. There will be better and worse days. The most important thing is not to take his moods personally.”
Quinn nodded in silence. She comprehended the reasoning behind it all, but it was still an unexpected, accelerated farewell. She swallowed hard.
“I think I’m going to see my mom now.”
“Good idea. From what I hear, she’s causing quite a stir on the bridge team, and that’s saying something.”
With these words, the nurse took her leave. Together, they exited the memory wing and headed downstairs.
Despite the unexpected encounter with her father, Quinn was fascinated by the tales about her mother. “It seems like my mom has earned a very specific reputation. In only two days?” Quinn mused. “My mother, the party animal.”
“I must admit I’m very intrigued to meet her. From your stories, she hasn’t made a great impression on me,” Archer remarked.
“Well, that was putting it mildly,” Quinn chuckled, having somewhat recovered from the encounter with her father. She examined the signs, finally locating what she was seeking.
“This way,” she said, tugging Archer along with her.
Her mother greeted her surprisingly warmly and introduced her to her new friends. When Quinn asked her mother if they wanted to have lunch together, her mother had waved her off.
“There’s no need for that. I’m sure you have other things to do. My girlfriends and I are having a great time here.”
“So you don’t want to go home yet?” Quinn asked cautiously, well aware that this question carried a certain risk, but she needed certainty.
“Home? Before I could really enjoy my stay here? I don’t think so. We,” she pointed to the other women, “still have a lot to do. Besides, the food here is free.”
There wasn’t much left to argue with her logic, so they said their goodbyes.
Half an hour later, they returned to the car. Quinn let Braveheart jump out so he could greet them properly. “I imagined this visit differently,” she said, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.
“How are you feeling now?” Archer inquired.
Quinn took a moment. “Good,” she noted. The realization that her parents were in good hands lifted a tremendous burden. Perhaps, just perhaps, all their problems could be resolved. She still had to handle the financial aspects, but she was confident that selling the house would cover the costs. Real estate around Breckenridge was in high demand.
“Are you up for a little ride?” Archer interrupted her thoughts.
Surprised, she looked at him. “You want to go for a ride?”
“Nothing strenuous,” Archer reassured her.
“Sure, why not? As long as there’s no long walk involved...” She had nothing better to do, and since she didn’t know how much time she had left with Archer, spending time with him was her priority. Her inner bird chirped in agreement. She smiled faintly; it had been an obvious choice.
Archer drove the truck up a narrow mountain pass road. The final stretch was rather challenging. He engaged the four-wheel drive’s reduction gear and allowed the car to navigate the challenging terrain.
Upon reaching the summit, Quinn held her breath.
The panoramic view was breathtaking. To the right lay a clear vista of the plateau where Independence was situated a few miles away. To the left, a steep cliff rose, and the cold had turned the waterfall cascading from it into magnificent ice sculptures.
“Archer, this place is amazing!” Quinn exclaimed.
He grinned with satisfaction. “I’m glad you like it. Wait here. I need to get something.” He got out of the car and let Braveheart jump out with him.
Curious, Quinn turned in her seat to observe what he was doing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much, as he seemed to be retrieving something from the rear.
She settled back comfortably. It wasn’t worth straining her battered bones with contortions; she’d find out what his surprise was soon enough.
He came into her field of vision, and she opened the car door to get out.
“Wait,” he requested.
She hesitated but followed his instruction.
A moment later, he lifted her into his arms, used his hip to shut the car door, and carried her through the snow.
“What are you doing?” Quinn exclaimed. “I’m sure you’re still feeling the effects of your fight, too. You’re going to hurt yourself carrying me around.” She was vaguely aware that she was babbling nonsense, but her brain couldn’t quite keep up with this unexpectedly romantic side of Archer.
Archer paid no attention, clearly concentrating to not to slip on the icy ground.
He’d spread a blanket on a thick tree trunk, and he gently placed Quinn on it. With a second blanket he had brought along, he wrapped her up.
Quinn cozied up into the warm wool, her whole body filled with eager anticipation.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
With wide eyes, she surveyed the contents of his picnic basket. “Wow, you’ve really thought of everything. I’m not hungry right now. I’m too... too excited for that.” She frowned. “It’s entirely your fault,” she remarked, gesturing to the breathtaking scenery.
Archer smirked in amusement. “Afraid I’m going to propose?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a proposal planned?”
“Who knows...”
Quinn rolled her eyes. The strange feeling she experienced could only be relief. After all, she had never planned to get married. Or had she? To distract herself, she asked the first question that came to mind.
“Is there coffee in the thermos?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed as she withdrew her hand, which had been reaching for the pot.
“Something better. Hot chocolate.” He took the thermos, unscrewed it, and filled one of the mugs he had brought, handing it to her. She accepted it gratefully.
They spent the next five minutes in companionable silence, leaning against each other.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Before the suspense becomes unbearable, I’d better get started.”
Quinn’s stomach clenched. Her inner bird chirped to offer motivation; this wasn’t the time for a lack of enthusiasm. The bird chose to ignore her objection, so she focused her attention on Archer.
“After you skillfully evaded my question yesterday, I thought I’d bring you here, where you couldn’t escape from me.”
A faint smile played around Quinn’s lips.
“Pretty cheeky. As if I haven’t been kidnapped enough lately,” she quipped.
“A man’s got to do what he has to do. How else was I going to make you listen to me?”
“Yes, yes. Well, then, don’t keep me in suspense any longer and finally come clean.”
“Have you remembered what you asked me?”
Quinn blushed slightly. “Yes.”
He gently held her chin with one hand. “I’ve handed in my resignation. Apart from a few individual lectures, I’m leaving my position at the university institute.”
