Chapter 15
MILLER
The tradition to do housework on a Sunday had evolved over the years so that we got up and automatically did the chores assigned.
Dad’s plan was that if we did it on Sunday, we could forget about it for the rest of the week.
We switched the jobs around, floors, laundry and bathroom.
I hated the bathroom but it actually took the least amount of time.
Today I was on laundry and it was sunny enough that I could hang the clothes on the clothes frame.
We had to position it on the far side of the house, out of sight of the lane.
Several times we’d put the clothes frame on the front porch and every time Mrs. Devereaux made a complaint.
She declared that nobody wanted to see our underwear in public.
Though, being the last house in the lane, she was the only one who would see it.
Chores out of the way, Mason retreated to his room to read while Dad surprisingly said he was going out for lunch.
“What? Where?” I asked, staring at his new maroon t-shirt, not a color I’d ever seen him wear.
“It’s a birthday lunch for Jesse,” he muttered, “from work.”
I sniffed the air. “Are you wearing cologne?”
Dad fake-sniffed. “All I can smell is bleach.” He picked up his keys and rubbed his hand over his head.
“Yeah, still bald,” I said with a laugh.
“I’ll be back later,” Dad pouted, but he’d definitely sprayed on something other than Axe.
I went out to the garage, working on the Mustang’s bumper.
Wiping the chrome till it shone, I pondered the new things I’d learned about Quinn.
Above all, she’d been kind to Mason and I couldn’t get that out of my head.
She’d been there for him when I hadn’t. And yet, when she had needed someone, I’d bailed.
I’d had the opportunity but literally looked the other way, pretended not to notice.
And what would’ve happened to Mason if she hadn’t stepped up?
And to find out she’d been cut from the soccer team even though she was a good player, and that her date with Ronan King had somehow been a fail. I wasn’t sad over that, but it seemed like Quinn was going through a lot.
The sound of the lawn mower came from across the lane.
I hadn’t seen the Devereaux’s gardener drive in, but he must’ve been back to finish the yard work.
Seconds later, the mower stopped. Then I heard the engine splutter to life, but immediately stall.
It happened again...and again. It appeared the gardener was having trouble with the mower so I walked across the lane and craned my head, but I couldn’t see through the Devereaux’s hedge.
Hamish bounded over behind me, then headed down the Devereaux driveway, veering off through the trees. I broke into a jog to chase. Not that Mrs. Devereaux was likely to be out on the lawn but I didn’t want the old gardener to get a fright.
But I was the one who got the fright. There was no gardener on the riding mower, no, Quinn was seated on it. I stopped, but Hamish didn’t. He went all the way up to her, seeming to prefer her company to mine.
I shouted in a gruff voice, “Hamish!” and caught him up, ready to plead for mercy. I didn’t need Mrs. D calling the dog pound for being off-leash or for trespassing on private property. “Sorry,” I said, panting after my sprint. “He just got away. I heard the mower and thought your gardener—”
I never finished my sentence. Quinn was wearing a pair of denim shorts, the kind that were frayed at the edges and her cropped gray sweatshirt was falling off of one shoulder and her dark hair was loose and straight and I was sure it was the first time I’d seen her wear it down.
Quinn’s eyebrows rose a little and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what I was going to say. All I could think was that she was mesmerizing, her eyes blue, not like the sky, but like a deep, deep ocean. And her hair was smooth and shiny and—
“Hey, boy.” For a stupid microsecond I wished her affectionate greeting was for me, but her attention was firmly on Hamish, gently patting him under his chin. “Good boy,” she said to him, her gaze darting up to me, prompting me to pull myself together.
“Uh, um, I could hear your gardener having trouble with the mower?”
Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know why but it starts, but then it won’t stay running.”
“You’re mowing the lawns?”
She frowned down at the ignition and I barely heard her, “Mr. Jones isn’t here today.”
“You want me to take a look?”
“Could you?” she asked, the relief in her voice massive as if I’d just made her day.
I stepped closer, but not too close, acutely aware I’d thrown on an old tattered tank with holes in the front. Dang it!
“Is there gas in the tank?”
She stared at me hard like I was a fool for asking. “Yes,” she enunciated the word crisply. “I did check that.”
“Just making sure,” I mumbled. “Uh, you mind if I—?” I gestured that I needed to sit on the mower and test it for myself.
Quinn hopped off, and Hamish was all over her like a rash.
Even though the smell of freshly clipped grass permeated the air, I got a faint whiff of her perfume, enough to give me a heady moment.
I sat on the mower, familiarizing myself with the controls.
I’d never driven a lawn tractor before, but my one thought was that if Quinn could drive it, so could I.
I turned on the ignition, the engine fired and I drove forward a few yards before it cut out. I tried again and the same thing happened.
“It keeps doing this?”
“It was okay yesterday. See? I did all that.” She pointed to the newly cut patch. “Now it keeps stopping.”
I jumped off, opened the front cover and poked around but all looked good. I lifted the seat to check the fuel cap. There was a release of air as I unscrewed it.
“This might be faulty,” I said, inspecting the cap. “Yeah, I think this needs cleaning. Ah, yeah, the vent hole is clogged. I can just run home and grab a tool.”
“There are tools in the stables, if you wanna take a look?” Quinn pointed over to the house.
“Nah, it won’t take me a minute,” I said, already on the move. “Hamish,” I called, doubting that Mrs. Devereaux would approve of him being there. I stopped and whistled but that dang dog ignored me.
Quinn offered a sympathetic smile. “He’s okay here,” she said, rubbing his back.
“But your mother?” I wasn’t prepared to risk Hamish being impounded because of that deranged woman.
“She’s not here,” Quinn said.
I sprinted back across the grass, dropping the fuel cap and having to pick it up because I was in a fluster.
My breath caught, and not just from running.
Cleaning and unblocking the fuel cap took seconds but I waited a minute for my heart to calm the freak down.
Would it be crazy to change my shirt or spray on deodorant real quick?
Would she even notice? And why did I care?
I strolled back at a more leisurely pace, Hamish still enjoying Quinn’s constant stroking. So much for being a loyal and devoted dog.
“Hopefully, this will work now,” I said, replacing the cap. I jumped back on and started it up. We looked at each other, listening and waiting and I fell into the deep blue of her eyes.
Her mouth opened but I was drowning in her ocean, deaf to her words.
“Sounds. Good.” I registered the words she was shouting, jolting me from my trance.
She stepped back and I pressed on the foot pedal and slowly moved off, following the mowing line. I mowed the length of the yard and came back to see her smiling.
“Yay!” It seemed weird that she’d be excited enough to clap her hands, but she did.
I stopped beside her, talking loudly to be heard. “Should be good to go.”
“That’s awesome. Thanks.”
I jumped off, trying to show off my athleticism. “Hey, thanks for helping Mason on the bus and all. Appreciate it.”
She shrugged like she didn’t need any accolades, but I wanted more. I wanted her to say I was a genius for fixing it, that I was clever and a life-saver, but she was only thinking about Mason. “I’m just glad he’s okay,” she said.
“Well, if there are any more problems, you know where I am,” I said as I tried to delay my exit, wanting to stay lost in her beautiful eyes for a little longer.
And just as her tanned bare legs were about to press the forward pedal, I opened my big mouth, needing to know what had happened on her date with Ronan, why he hadn’t brought her home.
“Hey, why were you waiting at the bus stop yesterday?”
Her lips twitched, yeah, her sweet full pink lips trembled like she was holding something in. “I...I just missed my ride back home.”
And with a jolt, she sped off like she was in a rush to get away from me. I grabbed Hamish by the collar, in case he embarrassed me by not responding to his name and led him home.
I mucked around with the car, listening to the sweet sound of the mower with pride, hoping I’d impressed Quinn.
Though in a way, I kinda wanted it to break down again just as a reason to see her.
I was becoming more surprised by Quinn, mowing the lawns when Mr. Jones was sick wasn’t really living up to the Prep School Princess label.
And it was clear the date with Ronan can’t have gone well, and though that was good news in my eyes, it didn’t sit well.
He had some nerve abandoning Quinn after a date, the least he could’ve done was take her home.
She didn’t deserve that, well no girl did.
For some reason, a deep bitterness burned in my belly, that pompous, callous hotshot King.
Just because he was a star on the slopes, didn’t mean he could disrespect Quinn.
Because her smile, even if it was for Hamish, did crazy things to my heart.
Mrs. Burbank’s message alert came that afternoon: Spud Harvest was starting tomorrow for the next two weeks and we needed to assemble in the school parking lot at 7:30 in the morning. I was already envisioning the new seat covers I’d be able to buy with my paycheck.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Dad said when I told him the news. “Give you something to get stuck into. You know what farm you’ll be going to?”
“Not yet, but I guess it’ll be Hamlin Farms.” I’d worked there last year and they’d given me some casual laboring work over the summer, so it would make sense that Mrs. Burbank would send me back there. “Apparently they were struggling to get numbers this year. Brayden’s not doing it.”
Dad huffed. “Kids are too soft these days. Rather be on their phones. Don’t wanna do a full day’s work.”
I nodded, but couldn’t dispute it. A lot of kids didn’t even consider doing it.
Early starts and late finishes weren’t for them.
As for Brayden and Darwin, both were intent on getting sports scholarships, and with the harvest being smack in the middle of competition season, they couldn’t risk a few bad performances.
It was hard to give 100% when you were exhausted from working the fields.
“Well, I hope Mase will be okay on the bus now,” I said.
“Yeah, we had a good talk about it,” Dad said, lowering his voice even though Mason was in his bedroom. “Learning how to deal with the bullying. And I’ll be calling the school tomorrow. He said even the Devereaux girl gets called names on the bus.”
I gave him a clueless shrug, but guilt stabbed me. She’d stood up for my brother, but I hadn’t stood up for her. It still bugged me that I’d let it slide, hadn’t stepped in. Enemy or not, it was wrong of me. Just like the mom situation.
“If Mason wants to see Mom, I shouldn’t stop him,” I blurted. “He...he has the right to make his own decision.”
Dad’s eyelids fluttered. “What brought this on?”
I shrugged again, muttering, “Just what you said.”
“You listened? I like that.” Dad’s smile was smug.
“There’s really a college fund?” I asked. Yesterday my pride—or pigheadedness—had stopped me from asking more about it. But I couldn’t get out of my head that, though she hadn’t been a part of our lives for ten years, our mother actually cared enough to plan for our futures.
“Two actually,” Dad said. “You know I put money aside for you and Mase, too?”
I laughed in shock. “Mase, I can understand, yeah. He has the brains. Me, not so much.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed and he scrutinized me a little too intensely.
“Don’t sell yourself short. Hey, maybe I haven’t done things right,” he said huskily.
“Maybe I should’ve done things differently.
Should’ve made you keep in contact with her.
Your mom’s not a bad person, Miller. After all, I loved her once. ”
I heaved in a breath, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest.
I loved her once.
Maybe she’d loved us too. Once upon a time.
“I should’ve gotten you help. You know, counseling,” he said, his voice hoarse with regret. “I mean, you were just a kid. It’s not too late. Might be good to talk about things with someone else. I could sort that...if you wanted.”
“Maybe.”
Dad nodded. “Yeah, maybe after the spud harvest, when you have a little more time. It might be good.”
I blew out a long sigh, ready to make changes.
I didn’t want to be a jerk anymore, least of all to my brother.
Last week had been the worst because I’d hated that feeling of shutting him out.
Of hating him. Of causing him to have an asthma attack.
And I didn’t want these feelings toward my mother to consume and overpower me.
Because it was draining and destructive and.
..I couldn’t stop thinking about how Quinn was the one who saved Mason.
“Hey,” I said as Dad turned to leave, curiosity killing me. “Why’d you give Quinn a ride home? I mean, aren’t the Devereauxs the enemy?”
“Because she was waiting for a bus that was never gonna come,” Dad said. “And you know the saying, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
I scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dad chuckled. “She helped your brother.” I expected him to add, “when you didn’t,” but his next words surprised me, “And...I learned that Quinn’s not her mother.”