Chapter Six #3
Jill nodded. “But you hardly ever get mad.” The words sounded like they’d been squeezed out through a lump in her throat.
“That’s not the way I used to be. Anything could set me off and I’d fly into a rage over the silliest things. I didn’t have
many friends and any I did have I’d lose the minute I lost my temper.”
Jill chanced an incredulous glance at Meggie. “How’d you change?”
“Jesus helped me.”
The young mouth twisted skeptically. “Oh sure, and how’d He do that?”
“I asked Him to,” Meggie explained simply. “I tried to be different so many times. I hated myself every time I blew up unreasonably,
but I couldn’t seem to stop. No matter what I did, or how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold on to my temper.” She paused. “Then
one day I raged at my only friend because she’d moved something of mine. I’d done poorly on a test and was angry at myself,
not Jacquie, but I took out my frustration on her. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of horror in her eyes as I started
throwing things around the room. Jacquie was so calm, so reasonable, and that angered me all the more. Finally she said that
we’d talk after I’d settled down. With that she left the room. I knew then that I’d probably lost the only real friend I’d
ever had.” Meggie swallowed; she hadn’t meant to talk so much and her throat was beginning to ache. But Jill was waiting expectantly
for her to continue. “After Jacquie left the room, I sat down and cried. I was miserable, I was a college junior and was behaving
like a two-year-old. I hated myself. Later Jacquie and I had a long talk and she told me about Jesus and that He could help
me control my terrible temper. She made it sound so simple, that Christ was willing to help me change.”
“It sounds too easy, I mean did you just say, ‘Okay, Jesus, I want to change’ and zap—you were different?” Jill asked anxiously.
“No.” Meggie took a deep breath. “There were plenty of times that I blew it, especially in the beginning. But one day I was
walking in the park and was watching a young mother with her baby. The child was about a year old and was attempting to walk.
She’d take a couple of steps and plop down on her little bottom. Then she’d get up and try again. The whole time the mother
was squatting down to the baby’s level, holding her hands out, encouraging the child. Suddenly I knew that’s how Christ saw
me and my temper. Not once did that mother say, ‘You big dummy, you really did it this time.’ No! She was encouraging, reassuring
her child. That was how Jesus was looking at me.”
A hurt, pained look stole into Jill’s expression. “I don’t want to lie,” she confessed openly, “but I do it all the time.”
She paused. “Do you think I could change?”
Meggie smiled gently. “I know Who can help.”
Jill spent several hours with Meggie, eager to wait on her. She even cooked Meggie’s dinner and created her very own original
omelette. Meggie ate what she could, praising her effort. Jill stayed as long as she dared without worrying her grandmother.
Later, after the sun had set and the room grew dark, Meggie lay back against the pillow feeling almost jubilant. Even if Quinn
rejected her love she couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration after the afternoon with Jill. The girl reminded Meggie
more and more of herself at thirteen.
Meggie didn’t know how she got there, but she was in a bank. Repeatedly she tried to explain to the banker that she had been
ill and that was the reason she hadn’t deposited the check. The banker’s face quickly became distorted, growing horns and
an evil look. He stared at Meggie and laughed viciously. She screamed in terror. She didn’t know this man, had never seen
him before. He was the one who’d been making the obscene calls. Now he was trying to kill her and she was so weak, so sick
and couldn’t fight him off. She cried out again, thinking she would die. Suddenly Quinn was there and the evil man threw her
aside. Meggie crashed into the wall, crying out for Quinn to be careful because the man had a gun. But it was too late and
Quinn slumped to the floor, blood oozing between his fingers as he held his stomach.
“Meggie, Meggie.” Someone was shaking her hard. Her eyes flew open to find Quinn standing above her. With a whimpering cry
of relief she sat up and hugged him as if her very life depended on the hold.
“Thank God you’re safe.” Tears glistened in her eyes. The nightmare had been so real, so vivid. For Quinn to be there was
like having him come back from the dead. “I dreamed you’d been killed,” she told him, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
A short, breathy laugh slipped from his throat as his arms cradled her against the hard, muscular chest.
“It’s going to take a lot more than a nightmare to do me in,” he whispered in a soothing voice.
Needing assurance, her hands reached up to trace the outline of his face, gliding over each imposing, each ruggedly carved
feature.
A hand captured hers, squeezing it tightly. Creating a short space between them, Quinn held her away so their eyes could meet
in the dark. Meggie’s tongue nervously moistened her lips. Quinn’s gaze narrowed on the slightly parted mouth and a smoldering
light flickered in his eyes.
“Meggie, oh, Meggie.” The sound of her name was an odd mixture of regret and hunger as though he couldn’t help himself. His
mouth closed fiercely over hers and the rush of fire that spread over her had nothing to do with a fever or having been sick.
Instinctively Meggie opened her mouth to him, her lips trembling softly under the domineering possession. Again and again
their lips met, each contact more potent than the one before. No longer were his kisses urgent, but a long series of sweet,
drugged responses as though Quinn couldn’t get enough of her.
“This is insane.” With a groaning effort, he dragged his mouth from her, his breath jagged. He shuddered slightly and began
to pull away, but Meggie stopped him. Hands on either side of his face cupping the masculine jaw, she brought his mouth back
to hers. The resistance was only fleeting as Quinn groaned, his mouth capturing hers again.
Meggie’s thoughts were chaotic. His touch dispelled all reason, producing a wildfire of longing deep within her heart. She
couldn’t bear it if he were to push her away. Not now, not ever.
“Meggie,” he pleaded with a sighing moan. “We’re playing with fire.”
“Fire,” she agreed, smiling up at him softly. “I’ve been sick, I’m too weak to resist.”
His hard mouth closed over hers again, reigniting the flames of passion. “I’m weak too,” he whispered huskily, speaking against
her lips. “But either we stop now, or there are going to be two of us in that bed.”
“Oh, Quinn,” she moaned softly. He’d said that for shock value, to pull her back into reality. But when she looked at him,
his rugged face bathed in the moonlight, Meggie was shocked. There was a deep intensity in his face. He hadn’t been teasing;
he was dead serious.
Sighing deeply, she laid her head upon his chest, comforted by the uneven thud of his heart.
“You’re acting mighty brave,” he repeated, his large hands caressing the length of her arms in a sweeping motion as he half-sat
across the top of her bed.
“I’m sorry my nightmare woke you,” she whispered.
“I was sleeping on your couch,” he murmured, his lips very gently caressing the top of her head as though the fresh smell
of her hair was an intoxicant.
“Sleeping on my couch?” That surprised her. “Why?” She pulled away until their eyes met again in the dim light.
“I came over to talk to you about Jill,” he explained, a pinched look twisting his mouth, “but you were already asleep and
I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been so ill, I decided to play it safe and spend another night here in case you needed something.”
“What about Jill?” Meggie questioned, concerned.
Quinn stiffened and ran his hands wearily over his face. “Listen, Meggie, I don’t want to offend you. Each of us is entitled
to our own beliefs. But don’t go filling Jill’s head with this phony religion.”