Chapter Nine
Bram
M y pulse hasn’t slowed since I entered Quinn’s room. She looks fragile and vulnerable lying in the hospital bed. Somehow, being here makes her weight loss more evident. Anger sparks inside my chest because I hadn’t noticed these things sooner. How long has she been struggling with health issues and no one paid any attention? How long have I not paid attention?
I’d had an entire speech prepared to ease her into the idea of marrying me, but the longer I sat there, the thicker my tongue became and the faster my heart raced until I just blurted out “Marry me” like a complete idiot.
No wonder she laughed in my face. I almost played it off as an Arrested Development joke, where everyone is always saying, “Marry me,” to someone completely inappropriate. Like their sister. Or cousin. Yeah, don’t ask.
Once I made sure Quinn knew I wasn’t joking, she looked at me in horror. Can the ground swallow me whole now? I’ll gladly disappear to get away from under her widened, panic-filled eyes.
Quinn still hasn’t responded to my offer to pray about it together. It has been twenty minutes of agonizing, awkward silence. I figure she needs some space to process everything. I would give it to her and hightail it out of here, but Mom is on the schedule to come after I leave. If she finds out I left Quinn early, she’ll skin my hide. Plus, if I don’t clear things with Quinn first, she may end up telling Mom that I proposed a marriage of convenience to her. That would not go over well. At all.
Which leaves me sitting here in this increasingly uncomfortable silence with the woman I just offered my life to. Horribly, I might add. I can’t forget that. It will go down in the history of “World’s Worst Proposals” with a blown-up picture of me right beside it as a warning to every future man of how not to be an idiot.
Although, I think I somewhat saved myself with the whole spiel about her character. Every word I said was true. I hadn’t lied to her about anything, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw her face softening. Until I’d gone and mentioned the part about taking care of her. Of course, I meant it. But Quinn had connected the dots and realized I was doing this because of her health.
She’s not wrong. But . . . there’s more to it than that. Just not what most girls want to hear. Surprisingly, “God wants me to marry you” isn’t as heart-melting as words of love and undying devotion. Go figure.
“Bram,” Quinn’s quiet voice filters into my thoughts, and I turn my full attention to her. She stares out the window with her knees wrapped tightly against her chest. Her long, black hair flows down her back as she takes a deep breath. “When you said you love me, you mean as a sister? A friend? Right?” She won’t meet my eyes, her head still turned toward the window.
“As a friend and sister in Christ, yes. Is that a bad thing?” I inwardly cringe as the words leave my mouth. I know she’s looking for more, but I can’t lie to her and allow her to think I’m in love with her. If we marry I trust God to bring that kind of love into our marriage with time. Lots of time. I crack my neck, trying to relieve the tension that has settled there and in my shoulders.
“It is when the man who just proposed to you views you that way.” I hear the hurt in her voice. Standing up, I move around the side of her bed and kneel.
“Quinn, look at me. Please,” I whisper. She turns her big blue-green eyes on me, and I offer her what I hope is a kind smile. “Good, solid marriages have been built on less than that. If God is calling us to this, we will trust that love will follow.”
“This isn’t the Middle Ages or a romance novel,” she says in a sarcastic tone. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her speak this way, and it pains me to know I’m the cause. Had I misunderstood what God was wanting of me? Had I let the dream and my book influence this decision? “This is real life, Bram. I won’t marry someone who doesn’t love me and could leave me when he finds someone else and falls in love with her.”
Her words slice through my chest leaving a gnawing ache. I don’t blame her for having doubts. Heck, I have a whole lot of them, but deep down, there’s this sense of peace I can’t ignore. I have to show her that I’m serious about pursuing this. About building a marriage on friendship and trust and praying it will grow to be one full of love.
Slowly, I grasp her chin tenderly with my hand, the most intimate gesture I’ve ever given her. Her eyes widen with shock. I lean close to her, brushing her forehead with the lightest of kisses. “If we do this Quinn, know that it’s for life. I care about you too much and have too much respect for you to leave you or seek out other women.” I pull away, grazing my thumb over her flushed cheek. “I’m not going to beg you, Q. This has to be something we both agree on after time and prayer. I’m simply laying all my cards on the table and telling you what God has placed on my heart to do.”
Quinn opens her mouth to say something, but before she can get the words out, the door flies open and Lois and Chad enter. I drop my hand quickly, hoping Lois didn’t see anything. The last thing I want is to make Quinn even more uncomfortable. Heat creeps up my neck as I glance down at Quinn’s blushing face. Yeah, we look like we’ve been caught with our hands in the cookie jar right before supper.
“Oh, hey guys,” Quinn squeaks out, before clearing her throat.
Lois’s gaze flicks between Quinn and me, her brow wrinkling. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I reply a little too quickly. “Just hanging out with Q, here.” I sound about as convincing as a Democrat at the RNC—Republican National Convention.
Quinn picks at her nails, not answering Lois’s question or looking at me. I want to see if she’ll commit to praying about it, but I don’t want to ask in front of Lois’s and Chad’s prying eyes. And they are definitely prying. At least Lois is.
“I thought Mom was supposed to be here,” I say, trying to distract from the awkwardness that hangs around Quinn and me. Lois is picking up on the tension by the way her eyes keep darting between the two of us.
“Oh, I traded shifts with her. She was here earlier.”
I nod and glance at Quinn. “I’ll check in on you later, Quinn,” I say, hoping she’ll get the double meaning.
Lifting her gaze to meet mine, she nods. “Okay.”
It’s the only thing she says before I say my goodbyes and leave the hospital, praying all the way home that I didn’t just lose a really good friend and make a fool of myself in the process.
Again.