Through the Fire. Donna Hill
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danced in her eyes as she took a seat.
“Are you always this considerate, or is this a new millennium come-on?” Rae quizzed over bites of bagel lathered in cream cheese.
Quinn hooked his legs around the spindles of the kitchen stool as he leaned over the counter to refill his juice. He chuckled halfheartedly. “Tell ya the truth, I don’t know. I guess I’d like to think I am a considerate guy. No doubt. Isn’t that what you women want these days?” he taunted playfully. “Rugged on the outside with a soft center.”
“So this is just some fancy come-on,” she teased in return, reaching for a bagel and brushing the tips of Quinn’s retreating fingers.
Their gazes found each other for a hot instant.
“I guess it’s been a while since I did anything for anyone else, or since I cared enough to bother.” He lowered his gaze, shielding himself from her.
Understanding that kind of aloneness, the depths to which it could pull you, momentarily sealed Rae’s lips. She wanted, as always, for her words to matter. Not give him a pat response from the plethora of self-healing dictums.
“I was working on a new piece,” Rae said gently, steering them away from the dark waters. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure.”
They left the remains of their late breakfast and went into the living room. Lovingly Quinn’s eyes roamed across the smooth wood surface of the magnificent piano, the only piece of furniture in the cavernous room. His mouth nearly watered in appreciation for the beauty—knowing the kind of sound that could be drawn from it. To him, playing piano was so much like making love to a woman. You had to know and understand each and every key and what it was capable of doing if touched just right—the high and low notes, the trills that could be emitted with several well-placed finger strokes. It was too intimate, too personal, and he wanted to be neither.
Quinn noticed the pile of body-size pillows stacked in the corners. He walked over and made himself comfortable, half sitting, half reclining like a satisfied cat.
That did it, Rae realized. If there was anything to convince her that this was a man after her soul, Quinn’s behavior sealed it. Everyone who’d crossed her threshold always commented about her lack of furniture, the echo in the room, her lackadaisical attitude about “fixing the place up.” Not Quinn. He was just as at home as if it had been his. He looked as if he belonged there.
Rae stepped over to the baby grand and took a seat. She glanced over her shoulder. “This is still rough,” she said as a preamble.
“Hey, unless you’re Stevie Wonder or Prince, it takes a minute to write some music.”
Rae chuckled in agreement. “If only,” she uttered on a puff of laughter, her confidence boosted by his simple observation.
She flipped the sheets of music to the beginning, pulled in a breath, and exhaled a melody. Her fingers taunted the keys with sharp, sudden chords, played along its spine like a rock skimming water, barely touching but enough to make it ripple. Then her voice slid between jazz and hip-hop, blues and easy listening.
“…so afraid that time won’t erase what I feel for you.
Let me go, you need to know
It’s time to move on.
All those yesterdays, memories, and such,
Though they meant so much, they’re gone
And I’m all alone.
Let me go. You need to know
It’s time to move on.
But I’m so afraid
That time won’t erase what I feel for you
In my heart.
I will always remember your smile.
The touch of your hand,
The way you’d walk out a door.
But all that’s no more.
Let me go.
You need to know it’s time to move on.
But I’m so afraid that even time won’t erase
What I feel for you…”
It was as if she’d written every word for him, as if she’d seen inside his heart, his soul, and created the words that he dared not speak, Quinn thought, stunned by the effect the lyrics were having on him—stirring images, emotions, dreams long denied. His throat tightened, the warmth flowing through him as he allowed the rhythm of the words to grab hold of him, seep into his pores. He fully understood that they’d seen the same emotions, shared the same fears. And the realization shook him.
“…What I feel for you will never die.
What we had will always be.
But listen to me
And let me go.
I’ll keep you close to my heart
Even if I start…to love again…”
Rae’s strong alto rose to a tingling crescendo, raising the hair on Quinn’s arms, swooped down to massage his belly, then gently faded, leaving a whisper of its scent behind.
Rae lowered her head, feeling spent as if she’d just made passionate love. The words had flowed from her unbidden, taking her by surprise, keeping time with the notes she’d created.
Neither spoke, each silently acknowledging the significance of the moment. Everything had just been said.
Rae felt the heat of him directly behind her, tenderly wrap around her to hold her close. She gave in to the embrace, shut her eyes, and rejoiced in the sensation of being held by someone who truly understood.
“Have you let go?” Quinn asked in a ragged whisper, coming around to sit beside her, not fully understanding why he’d suddenly held her like that. But he seemed to need the contact of warm flesh against warm flesh as much as he believed she did.
“Some days are better than others.”
“Yeah. No doubt.” He dragged in a breath and found her eyes, which had filled with tears that flowed onto her cheeks. With the pad of his thumb he gently brushed them away.
Rae smiled weakly. “Why are you here, Quinn?” Her eyes dragged over his face, memorizing the contours, the sweep of his brows, the depth of his dark eyes, the perfect symmetry of his lips, the smooth chocolate of his skin. She wanted to touch him, taste him, have him hold her again, and her hold him back. She wanted to lie with him, have his fingers awaken her flesh. She wanted to feel him inside of her, if only for a moment, just long enough to remember what it felt like to be a woman. She hadn’t wanted that with anyone for so long. Couldn’t bear the thought of a man other than her husband touching her. But Sterling was gone. She was still here. She was still alone, still afraid—even now when the man who’d made her blood heat again was mere inches away. And she didn’t want to be those things anymore—alone and lonely—at least for a few precious moments.
“I’m not sure why I came, Rae,” Quinn finally answered. “All I know is that I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all night. I woke up this morning and you were here.” He tapped his temple. “Right there in my head, messin’ with my mind.”
There was a sense of wonder on Rae’s face as she watched him confess. She’d felt the same way—all night, as she’d walked the floors and the music taunted her. “I didn’t expect this.”
He laughed self-consciously and tossed it off, getting up and moving away from her. He walked to the window, keeping his back to her, gathering his emotions back into the tight band that held them in place and out of reach.
“What do you want from me?” she asked gently.
He hesitated a moment, not sure of just how far