“Tests? For what?”
He could hear her take a deep breath. “The doctor thought he might have had a small stroke.”
“A stroke?”
“Take it easy, Jake. I said a small stroke.” Jake. The nickname his father had given him. And like the name Jonathan Quinn, Jake had no relation to Quinn’s real name. “Turns out it wasn’t a stroke at all.”
“What was it, then?”
“They’re not sure. Maybe a virus. He’s fine now. Well, his blood pressure is high, so he’s taking some medication for that. But otherwise he’s fine.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to feel. His relationship with his father was an odd one. They had never been close, even when Quinn was a child. It wasn’t from lack of trying on either of their parts. They just didn’t have anything in common. Quinn knew the real answer why, but he never spoke it out loud. His dad was the only father he had ever known, but genetically they weren’t related. So their core points of references for life were different, and neither could really understand the other. Still, he cared about his father, because he knew his father loved his mother deeply.
“How’s Mom?”
His sister—technically his half-sister—sighed. “How do you think she is? She’s glad he’s better, but she’s still concerned. She keeps checking on him to make sure he’s all right.”
“I was just asking, Liz.”
There was silence for a moment. “She tells me you haven’t visited them for a long time. You need to come out here.”
At the time, he was just getting ready to leave for Ireland. “I can’t come right now.”
“Of course not.”
“But I will come soon. In a few weeks.”
“Whatever. Do what you need to do, Jake. I just thought you’d want to know.”
Before he could say anything else, she’d hung up. He’d called his mother next, but she was evasive, doing her best, as always, not to burden Quinn with anything she felt he didn’t need to worry about.
Now that the jobs in both Ireland and Boston were complete, he knew he had to go see his parents. They’d be in Minnesota now, summering in the home Quinn had grown up in. He’d stop by on the way back to L.A.
“What are you thinking about?” Orlando asked.
“Nothing,” he said as they stepped out of Strega, an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End. He hadn’t told her about the call from his sister.
There was a slight chill in the air. Quinn could feel Orlando shiver under his arm, so he pulled her small frame closer to help warm her up.
“Thanks,” she said.
She tilted her head up, and he leaned down and kissed her.
“Well, I
“Thought so,” she said, an eyebrow raised. “I assume it hurt. Maybe you should leave the thinking to me.”
It was a playful argument they’d had often, each claiming to be the more intelligent one.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said again, “about our location problem.”
“What location problem?”
“The fact that you’re not geographically available to me when I need you.”
“Wait,” Orlando said, the hint of a wicked smile on her face. “You need me?”
“Shut up,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
“We’re a hell of a lot closer than we used to be,” she said.
“True enough,” he said. “But I was just—”
“Hold on.” She pulled away a little. “We’re not moving in together. Not yet. We’ve already talked about that.”
“I know that.”
He eased her back against him. But as he was about to explain what he meant, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Annoyed, he pulled it out and looked at the display, then glanced at Orlando.
“It’s Peter,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should just let him go to voice-mail.”
It was a good idea. Quinn tapped the Reject prompt on the phone’s touch screen, then put the device back in his pocket.
“I didn’t mean move in together,” Quinn said. “But I thought maybe I could get a place up there. I don’t have to be there all the time. I mean I’d definitely not be there when you’re in Vietnam, but when you’re in town … you know, I could, I could be up there, too. Close by. It’ll make things easier for us.”
He looked down at her, expecting some resistance. What he’d learned since they’d become involved was that she had a fierce independent streak, and was very protective of her own space. A product, perhaps, of her previous relationship experience with Quinn’s late mentor, Durrie.
