Rainbow Hill (18 page)

“It did,” Randall admitted. “But having you standing here in front of me beats the initial high of buying a new luxury car.”

“You do say the sweetest things.”

* * * *

“Where have you been?” Frank asked Quinn, Frank still seated at the kitchen table.

“Showering,” Quinn answered nonchalantly.

Quinn walked to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice, then hunted for a glass. Tucker beat him to it, reaching into a cabinet and handing Quinn a glass.

Quinn shot a quick glance at Tucker, looking for any sign of disapproval in the man’s face when he accepted the glass. What he saw was indifference.

“You missed the pleasure of meeting Ethan’s young man,” Tucker said as Quinn poured the orange juice.

“I have a feeling that opportunity will arise once again.”
Unfortunately
. He sipped the sweet juice, hoping it would remove the bad taste of Randall.

Frank patted the tabletop with his hand and kicked out a seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit and tell us how your night went,” he suggested.

“Not much to tell,” Quinn said and shrugged his shoulders, taking a seat. “We recovered the cows without much effort. Think they just wanted to go for a midnight stroll.”

“They weren’t the only ones busy last night,” Frank said.

Quinn coughed, the acid of the orange juice bubbled into his throat. “What are you referring to?”

Tucker lifted both of his hands, palms out. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t mutter a word.”

“He didn’t have to,” Frank interrupted. “These walls aren’t as thick as you think.”

Quinn wanted to slide under the table and never come out. Heat crawled into his cheeks, and he was quite literally hot under the collar. He tugged at it, hoping to cool off.

“Don’t be embarrassed, son. It’s only natural to want to get your rocks off when you’re a young man.”

“How much have you had to drink this morning?” Quinn asked, his temper starting to get the best of him.

“Enough to have this discussion, I reckon.”

“Well, I haven’t so let’s not have… it.”

“But he’s with that guy out there.” Frank indicated to the front of the house with his chin. “He has a boyfriend.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“That fellow who drove all the way out here seems to think so,” Frank returned.

“That fellow,” Quinn spat,” broke it off weeks ago.”

It was Tucker’s turn to speak. “I knew it,” he said. “I sensed that something was wrong with Ethan in the romance department.”

“Randall’s been cheating on him.”

Tucker mumbled something under his breath, and he gripped the kitchen counter.

“Tucker, don’t worry,” Quinn said. “Ethan won’t fall for any of his BS. He’s too smart for that.”

“You think so?” Frank angled in his chair, looking out the door into the yard. “From where I’m sitting, I can see the two now. Randall has is arm locked around Ethan….and wait, here is where it gets even better, they are now kissing.”

Quinn stood, practically knocking the chair over with the backs of his legs. He stalked toward the door and looked out.

His father wasn’t making it up.

Ethan was kissing Randall.

He was even hugging Randall.

And it looked like he was enjoying it.

Quinn felt Tucker’s hot breath on his neck. “What is he thinking?” Tucker said. “I thought I taught him better than that.”

“Apparently, you didn’t.” Quinn’s jaw ached from clenching. A tremor of hate and anger raced over his body. “I should go out there and break that fancy ass’s nose.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Frank suggested. “He’d just sue you for a new and improved nose, and you would come out looking bad, and he would come out looking better than ever.”

“Plus,” Tucker added, “I don’t believe that would win any points with Ethan.”

“Who said I wanted to win any points?” Quinn protested. “Ethan can have him. Besides we’re not serious. We were having some fun, that’s all.”

“If that’s the case,” Frank said, “why do you look like you got a porcupine shoved up your butt?”

Quinn relaxed his fists to his side and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Ethan’s a big boy and obviously knows what he wants.”

“He has never known what he wanted,” Tucker clarified. “Always looking for bigger and better and fancier. I have no idea where that comes from. His mother and I were never those people. We were always happy with what we had. We never chased rainbows.”

“There’s nothing wrong with chasing rainbows,” Frank said, “but that guy out there is not the pot of gold at the end of one.”

Quinn turned and looked at Frank, shocked at his father’s insightful comment.

“What’s the matter?” Frank asked. “I might like to bury my feelings in the bottom of a bottle, but I can still see what’s happening around me no matter how hard I try not to. For whatever reason, Randall is taking advantage of Ethan. He’s always been a good kid, too good, and people like Randall can see that. If you ask me, that fellow kissing Ethan out there has a heart of stone.”

Now Tucker’s jaw began to pulse. “Frank, I know you're right, so what do we do?”

“Wait a minute,” Quinn said. “I’m not doing a damn thing, and I suggest you two do the same. Let Ethan make his own choices. It’s his life, and we’re not interfering.”

“Son, one can surely tell that you’ve never been a parent.” Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That’s what we do. We interfere. Right, Tucker?”

Tucker looked at Quinn. “Interfering is a parent’s job, and no matter how old or stupid that kid will be, I’ll always be his father, so I intend to let him know I do not approve in his choice in partners.”

“You do that, and you’ll lose him forever,” Quinn warned.

“So I should stand by and let him keep messing up? If Randall is fooling around on Ethan, he could place Ethan’s health at risk, and I won’t idly stand by and allow that to happen. It’s a father’s duty to protect his son.”

Quinn ran his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot, frustrated. “Just don’t go charging in because you’ll lose him. Let Ethan figure it out. Please. These last few days, he’s been having a good time. He’d probably never admit it to you, but he did to me. Randall showing up is only a minor setback. He wants Oak Hill Farm to succeed, for us to be a success. I like Ethan, a lot, but I don’t want to manipulate him because if we do, that would make us no better than Randall.”

Frank grunted, and Tucker inhaled slowly through his nose, his broad chest swelling under his plaid shirt. He gazed outside at Randall and Ethan now talking amicably by Randall’s car.

“I guess you’re right,” he said on an exhale. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

Quinn followed Tucker’s gaze. He recognized something in Ethan’s face, a forced smile, a tense brow, an overall expression that didn’t exactly translate to I love you. If Ethan was truly pleased to see Randall, why did his body language say something else entirely? Or was it that Quinn wanted to see signs of unhappiness between them and was reading too much into nothing, his imagination getting the most of him? Dismissing the thought, Quinn excused himself, choosing to skip breakfast. He slipped out the screen door noiselessly and headed to the springhouse to bury himself in work.

Chapter Thirteen

“Ethan said you’d be in here.”

Frank’s voice resonated off the stone walls of the springhouse.

Quinn placed his hands in his back pocket and looked around. “You come to lend a helping hand?”

“You could say that.”

“Did Tucker ask you about getting the electricity up and running?”

Frank pulled a generic looking light bulb out of the front pocket of his loose fitting shirt. “I believe it’s not as hard as all that.”

“You think it’s only a dead bulb?”

Frank inserted the light bulb in an empty socket above the one and only door, a tattered, dingy string hanging from it. “It usually is. Most people tend to create problems where there are none.” Frank pulled the string, bathing the dark musty space in golden light.

Quinn rocked on his heels and laughed. “Are you going to tell Tucker that a seventy-five watt bulb solved his decade-long electrical problem?”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t want to offend his intelligence. I’ll just say it took a little tinkering, that special touch.”

“I think he’ll believe that.”

“Usually does. He has a heart of gold but doesn’t know his way around an electrical box to save his soul.”

“He is a good man,” Quinn said. “Much like his son.”

“Ethan will come into his own one day. He still has some growing to do, starting with Randall. Won’t be easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see something in his eyes that says he’s still hooked on that asshole.”

“I see it too.”

“Hard not to.”

Quinn grew silent, the sound of trickling water reminding him of last night’s rain, thoughts of Ethan’s hungry lips sliding up and down along his hard shaft. Even if Ethan chose to stay with Randall, Quinn did not regret making love to Ethan. It would be one of those memories that would keep him feeling young when he was an old man and all he had left were memories.

“This place has loads of potential,” Quinn said, taking a small step toward the pool of spring water that was in dire need of some TLC, his reflection rippling in the murkiness.

“So does Ethan.”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“Too late for that, wouldn’t you say?”

Quinn lifted his chin, eyed Frank. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m not in the mood to decipher your hidden meanings.”

“You give me too much credit.” Frank met Quinn’s gaze. “What I’m saying is, if you like Ethan, then tell him. It might give him the courage it takes to leave Randall. It’s a wonderful thing to have someone on your side, pulling for you. Believing in you.”

“Like Mom.”

Frank’s head hung. “Like Connie.” He said her name in a rush of exhaustive breath.

“Dad,” Quinn began, choosing his words carefully, “just because Mom is gone, it doesn’t mean your life is over. You have so much to offer to those around you. You have plenty of life to live.”

“I don’t feel like I do.”

Quinn cocked his head. “Or is it that you don’t want to? That you’ve decided life is no longer worth living and you want to kill yourself slowly with that shit you keep poisoning your mind and body with? You kicked it once, and you can do it again.”

“I had your mom then. She gave me the strength to face my demons and get sober. She kept me sober too.”

“I’m sure you believe that, Dad, but ultimately, getting and staying sober was and still is up to you. She might’ve believed in you, but it was you who stayed clean for all those years. I’m not saying that Mom didn’t help, but it wasn’t she who kept you sober, it was you.”

“I don’t think I have it in me,” Frank admitted.

“Then do it for me because I don’t want to lose another parent. Losing Mom knocked me down, turned my world on its axis, but I’m recovering because I know that she would want me to. Mom wouldn’t want you to drink yourself to death. She loved you. Cared for you.” Although he didn’t remember moving, Quinn found himself standing in front of Frank. He placed his hands on his father’s arms. “I love you… and I need you.” Quinn felt the burn of his tears. “Please.”

“Son.” Frank’s voice choked, so he tried again. “I’m really trying. It might not look like it from where you’re standing, but I am. Some days it takes all my strength to place one foot in front of the other, but I don’t always have the strength.”

“Then you sit down and regroup until you do.”

“It that what you do?"

Quinn fought back threatening sobs, his throat tight and straining. “I do,” he managed to say.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through this. You changed your entire life for me, moving back and starting this wacky-ass idea. Who will ever come here and drop all their hard-earned cash? People don’t spend good money on candles and cutesy pillows and such.”

“Maybe you don’t, but loads of people do.”

“Your mother didn’t.”

“She wasn’t frivolous.”

“I wonder if she wished that she could have been.” Frank’s voice was wistful.

“She wasn’t frivolous by nature. She enjoyed saving money, watching it grow. That was one of her favorite pastimes.”

Frank chuckled with some distant memory. “She was good at it. When you wanted a bike, she saved every penny she got her hands on.”

“I remember working my butt off to raise money so I could buy that bike. Paper route, collecting cans so I could get recycling money. I did everything I could think of that year.”

"What we never told you was that we matched your money. The bike you wanted was much more than what you raised.”

“I was never good at math,” Quinn joked. "How come you never mentioned this before?”

“You were so proud of your accomplishment. Why would we take it away from you? We were so proud. Your mother was so proud.”