“You’re lying, she’s still on the merry-go-round,” Jolene says, the gun barrel wobbling violently in her unsteady hands, still pointed at my chest. Every fiber of my body is tensed like a drawn hunting bow, ready to spring. Adrenaline surges through my veins, through every limb and every cell; Quinn has purposely stepped into the line of fire, left herself purposely open and exposed, and I’m about to lose my mind with fear for her.
Several yards beyond Jolene’s frail, wispy frame I see a stranger lift Rose off the carousel platform and attempt to comfort her. She doesn’t see us and is clearly panicking. I’m torn in two wanting desperately to protect both her and Quinn, unable to fathom what’s possessed Quinn to pull this dangerous stunt.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she says to Jolene, holding her hands out, palms upward in a gesture of openness. “My name’s Quinn. I know Rose, and I know she wouldn’t want to see her daddy get hurt. Please put the gun down.”
Jolene shifts her aim to Quinn, and a cold blackness takes root in my soul. If anything happens to Quinn I’ll never forgive myself; I’m responsible for getting her in this mess. I have to find a way to take out Jolene without letting her get off a shot.
“Put it down now, Jo,” I say. “Last warning.” Quinn glances my way and silences me with a subtle flick of her hand. The gesture says that she has a plan, and I’m not part of it.
&nbs
p; “I know you’re upset, Jolene, and that you’ve had a rough go of things,” she continues. “You love Rose, too—I can see that. I understand you want to be with her. You’re her mother, you’ll always be her mother. No one can take that away from you.”
I’ve never heard Quinn speak in this tone of voice; it’s assertive but soft and soothing. I’m dumbfounded at the nerves of steel she’s displaying, and the effect it’s having on Jolene. Maybe the sympathetic words are getting through to her. I stay still, but with my muscles still jacked into high alert, ready to catapult across the small distance between us at the slightest false move from Jo.
“Damn right,” Jolene says. “I gave birth to her.”
“Of course you did. Bringing life into the world is a great thing, but a hard thing, too. I’m sure you were just overwhelmed. You never meant to hurt anyone, and you won’t hurt anyone now, will you Jolene?”
“I want my daughter,” Jolene says, stamping her foot. “No one gets hurt if you just let me walk away with her, nice and quiet-like.”
Quinn shakes her head slowly. “That can’t happen, Jolene. Not until you get more help. When you’re better, you can see Rose, I promise you. I’ll see to it.”
Jo seems confused, and her agitation starts to build again. “No! I’m not waiting anymore. I’m already better, I want her now,” she cries, her arms quivering from the effort of holding up the revolver. I’m terrified it just may go off in her clumsy grip. Jolene shakes her curly head as if trying to rid it of Quinn’s words like a swarm of buzzing insects. “Just shut up!” she barks, wagging the business end of the gun at Quinn. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’d better give me my daughter right now, or I’ll shoot. I will!”
I can tell by the feverish look in her eyes that she’s on the brink; she’s going to go over the edge any second. I’ve seen it too many times before. It’s all I can do not to jump her right now—take a bullet if it came to that. Better my miserable ass than Quinn, or some innocent bystander.
“You won’t,” Quinn assures her in firm, confident tones. “I know you won’t because, you see, I’m a mother too.” My head jerks in her direction at her words. What is she saying? She lowers her hands slowly to her midsection to stroke her belly. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s still inside of me, and I know you don’t want to hurt a baby who isn’t even born yet, do you, Jolene?”
Jolene blanches, and her jaw quivers. “No,” she gasps, as though insulted at being accused of such a thing. My brain is on overload trying to take in what I’m hearing, or what I’m seeing. Quinn is pregnant? The idea knifes through me like a heated blade. Have I done it again, carelessly impregnating a woman like a worthless jerk? Or is it a calculated lie—a trump card to persuade Jolene to stand down? Either way, I’m blindsided, wracked with guilt and completely speechless at Quinn’s handling of this bizarre situation in front of us.
“That’s good because if you hurt me, I will never get to see my baby,” Quinn pleads. “And I want to see my baby, just like you want to see Rose. How would you feel to never be able to see her again?”
“I will see her.” Jolene nods, sniffing back her building tears. “You can’t stop me.”
“I know how much you must miss her—that you’ve never got a chance to hold her, kiss her and put her to bed at night. Don’t you want to do all those things?”
“Yes!” Jolene shrieks, the tears now spilling down her cheeks.
“Then you have to put the gun down. If you don’t, you may never see Rose again.” Jolene’s breath is coming in heaves, her watery gaze darting back and forth and her body trembling uncontrollably. “You’ll go to jail,” Quinn continues. “Is that what you want? For Rose to have her mother locked away and never know her?”
“No,” Jolene gasps.
“Just put the gun down, and that won’t happen. Please. Rose needs her mother. Do it for her.”
Jo dissolves into helpless, convulsing sobs and her shaking arms collapse to her sides. As her knees buckle, the handgun clatters to the pavement, and she covers her face with both hands. “For Rose,” she wails.
I dive for the discarded weapon at the same moment Quinn rushes forward to catch Jo in her arms as she crumbles to the ground in a sobbing heap. I’m stumped at the amazing strength and compassion of this brave, brilliant young woman, and I thank the moon and stars and whatever powers that be that have brought her into my life. If my child is inside of her, I’m the most undeserving son of a bitch in the world. I look gratefully into her luminous blue eyes as she cradles and comforts Jolene—a stranger to her who could have ended us both—in a gentle, forgiving embrace. A tired smile curves her beautiful lips.
“Everything’s okay. Go get Rose,” she urges quietly. “I’ll find you.”
I get to my feet just as two hefty men working security arrive to secure the handgun and take control of the situation. A police SUV pulls slowly into the area, sounding an intermittent woop of its siren to clear the crowd. I step back to give them space before I turn and cut a swath through the shocked onlookers to get to Rose, who I find lodged in the arms of a kind-looking middle-aged woman.
“Daddy!” she cries, reaching out to me with her tiny arms.
“I’m here, Rosebud. Daddy’s here.” I can barely choke the words past the ball of emotion trapped in my throat. “Thank you,” I say to the lady as she hands Rose off to me. I hold my little girl close amid the crush of people, flashing lights and ringing sounds of the carousel, memorizing the feel of her precious warm body against mine, and the sweet smell of her just-washed hair, and vow I’ll never let her from my sight again.
I know that’s not possible, but the day she was born I’d promised to be the best father I could possibly be. And if Quinn is telling the truth, I have twice as many reasons to live up to that promise now. I never thought I could love anything or anyone as much as Rose, and as much as I hate myself for what I’ve done, the thought of Quinn carrying my baby fills me with a silent, indescribable joy. When she’d said, “I have something to tell you,” I have no doubt this was her incredible news.