A Dream of His Own

His lawyer insisted on suing, and they’d won, but the money meant nothing to him. It couldn’t buy back his wife and son. It couldn’t fill his empty heart. It couldn’t replace everything that was precious. That’s when he realized that his business, his wealth, his success meant nothing at all. He’d cursed God. A God who promised to be faithful. A God who assured His children He heard their prayers. For so long those empty promises controlled his life. But time healed even the deepest wound, and he’d made restitution with the Lord, clawing his way up from darkness into the light of faith. He would never have survived without it.

Quinn’s thoughts cleared, and he noticed Ava looking at him. How long had he been silent? “Fifteen. They can be difficult at that age.”

She studied him a moment as if curious about his silence. “You must have experience with teens.”

Her comment tore into his heart, and he couldn’t speak.

But it didn’t seem to matter. For her, talking seemed more urgent. “Teens get to a certain age, and they think they know everything. I’m sure you’ve experienced that?”

“Teens are teens.” He didn’t want to encourage the line of conversation. As Ava studied him, his skin crawled.

Then she fell silent for a moment. But after taking a lengthy breath, she turned to him again. “Brandon has Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

A knife ripped him again. Though he wanted to say something kind or wise, he couldn’t find the words.

Yet her voice brightened. “But he’s in remission. I’m so grateful.”

She waited for his response, but he still couldn’t go there. His own loss weighted his mind. Finally he managed a “that’s great.” But not wanting to continue the conversation, he did the next best thing. He tried to lighten his tone. “So you purchased washers, O-rings and a wrench at the hardware.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but he wanted an answer.

“Of all things, my kitchen faucet leaks.” She offered a fleeting grin that sent his pulse skittering. “I plan to fix it myself.”

His heart rate escalated as her smile lines deepened. “You’ll fix it?” Grateful for the new topic, his mind wrapped around a dimple flickering in her cheek. He tried to picture her repairing the leak. His only involvement in repairing a faucet had consisted of paying the plumber.

Her brows lifted. “I read articles on how to do plumbing repairs on the internet. It’s not hard, and it saves money.”

Hearing her reference awakened his regret. He had more money than he needed. She had to tighten her finances while dealing with a seriously ill son. Her courage amazed him.

Quinn studied her profile, his gaze lingering on her ear decorated with a small jeweled earring, the stone the color of a leaf budding in spring. She wore her hair short but with a slight wave curving at her neck. On the left side, she tucked the strands behind her ear.

As his thoughts sank in, Quinn cringed and glanced away. He needed to get a grip. Why would he feel so much concern for a woman he’d only met an hour ago? His emotional reaction irritated him. Yet unable to control his thoughts, he let his gaze drift back to Ava. Proud, strong and capable seemed a good description. A grin played on his lips. He could never picture Lydia shopping at a hardware store and fixing a faucet.

Her eyebrow arched as if she’d noticed his half grin. “You think women can’t do plumbing?”

He was the one who couldn’t. “No. I think some women can do anything they set their mind to.”

“You have more faith in me than I have, but I’m going to do my best.”

His stomach churned as he witnessed her brave admission. “I’m only a novice, but could I help?”

Her head jerked upward with question.

“Maybe I could give you a hand…that is, if you run into problems.” Air streamed from his lungs as he faced the dumbest suggestion he’d ever made. What did he know about plumbing? He shrank into a chair. “I’ll give you my phone number, and you can give me a call.” And he could contact a plumber. His shoulders relaxed.

“Thanks. You’re too kind.”

“Ms. Darnell?”

Quinn’s attention shot to the doorway.

Randy strode forward. “I’ll need your car keys.”

She grasped her handbag and dug out a small ring of keys. “Here you are.”

When she dropped them into his hand, Randy turned to him. “I might as well take yours, too.”

Quinn pulled the keys from his pocket, and Randy vanished through the garage doorway with the sets of keys as Quinn sank back into the chair wishing he had a magazine or anything that would stop him from offering to do plumbing and feeling his pulse skip each time Ava looked at him. He stretched his legs in front of him, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. Maybe if he concentrated he could get a grip on his wayward emotions. Sean and the accident surged in his mind and was only distracted by the image of the attractive woman beside him, saddled with too many problems.

He remained silent, trying to ignore the waves of Ava’s presence. When she shifted in the chair, her arm brushed his and the hairs on his arms rose. His eyes jerked open. “Sorry about the long wait.”

“It’s not your fault.” She shrugged. “I wish I’d brought in the magazine I picked up at the hardware store. It’s on home decor.”

Quinn pictured the outside of his once lovely home that needed trim work, and the inside rooms as drab and colorless just as his life had been.

“I love decorating. That would have been a great career for me.” The comment sounded as if she was speaking to herself.

His mind ticked with ideas while his heart stretched beyond his belief. He was drawn to this woman in a strange and unexpected way—somewhere between esteem and curiosity. She was different and admirable.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she’d sunk into thought again, and if he allowed it, he’d never learn more about her. “Why didn’t you pursue a career in home decorating?”

She turned her head and looked out the window with a shrug. “I married young. My husband had a good job and preferred my staying home.”

“So that ended your dream.”

Her head swivelled toward him. “I put my energy into my home. I made it my own little showplace.”

Pride rose on her face, and he realized she hadn’t appreciated his comment. “That’s a good use of talent.”

Her expression changed. “Thank you, but then you haven’t seen my home.” Her tone softened. “It’s a little worse for wear without the income…the time to keep it up, but I do my best. Most things fall on my shoulders at home. I’m a widow. My husband died a few years ago—five years actually—when Brandon was ten.” She drifted away for a moment. “Coronary thrombosis right before my eyes. I asked him if he’d like a cup of coffee, and he said yes. Before I turned my back, he was gone.”

Quinn’s lungs emptied. “That must have been awful.” He had forced the words from his throat. Sean’s and Lydia’s death had been as swift, but he hadn’t witnessed it. Two police officers had come to his door with the horrible news.

“It was a shock.” Her voice infiltrated his thoughts. “Tom was young. Only thirty-four. He never knew about Brandon’s illness. He’d been gone two years before Bran was diagnosed.”

Quinn shook his head. He was forty-five. He couldn’t imagine his life ending eleven years early. Sean slipped into his thoughts again. At fifteen his life had ended.

They both sank into silence, and he pondered what to do to make life better for Ava.

Randy reappeared and stepped to the counter. “Damage could have been worse.” He bent over the counter and wrote notes on the quote form he’d filled in earlier with their information.

Ava rose first and grasped the form he handed her before Quinn could get a look at the quote. She gazed at it, her eyes losing their color. She pulled out her wallet and slid him her insurance information. “I’ll need to use my insurance.”

Quinn shifted beside her. “I thought we were going to talk about it.”

“No need to talk.” She folded the form and slipped it in her purse. “How long will it take to repair?”

Randy glanced at the calendar and then through the garage door as if sizing up the jobs they had. “Maybe three days. Two if we’re lucky. If you want, you can bring it in Monday. But you’ll need to call your insurance company because they may want you to get another estimate.”

Her head jerked toward Quinn and then back to Randy. “Why?”

“It’s policy. And if you need a loaner car, I’ll call you when one’s available. I only have three.”

Her downcast look constricted Quinn’s chest. “Give us a minute.” He linked his arm in Ava’s and pulled her across the room. “I accepted the blame for this, and I want to pay for the damage. Let me see the estimate.”

“It’s too much.” She didn’t budge.

“Please, let me decide.”

She inched her hand into her purse and pulled out the yellow paper. He opened it and shook his head. The amount meant nothing to him and so much to her and it would affect her insurance rates. “I’ll cover this. And forget the insurance company. You don’t need the hassle.”

Confusion churned in her face. “But why? It’s too much money. Why would you do this for me?”

He held the estimate firmly in his grip and searched her face. “Because I can.”

Her cheek quivered as tears brimmed her eyes. “I don’t accept charity. I told you that, but for some reason, I think this is as important to you as it is to me. So thank you.”

Quinn stepped backward, stunned by her awareness. She had read his heart, and it frightened him. Where was he being led and by whom?

Chapter Two

Lexie came through the doorway into the meeting room of Parents of Special Kids at the Royal Oak Senior Center and strode to where Ava was sitting. “You’re here. Where’s your car?”

Ava shifted her eyes to see if others heard. “I have a loaner.”

Lexie sank into the seat beside her. “What happened to your car?”

“I had a little accident.”

Lexie eyes widened. “Were you hurt?”

Today Lexie asked probing questions, and it made Ava understand how irritating that could be. She didn’t want to talk about her dumb accident. “No. I’m fine.” She thought of Lexie’s son and grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “How’s Cooper?”

“He’s doing well. We’re so grateful.” Lexie gestured toward the parking lot. “So give me details.”

Ava gave up. “It was stupid. I was leaving the hardware store, and as I was backing up, we hit each other.”

“You backed into a car?” A grin washed away her concern.

Her voice reverberated through the room, and Ava was grateful only a few people overheard. She glanced toward the small group of women. “It was nothing.” She waved her right hand and chuckled.

They studied her a moment and then continued their conversation. Keeping her voice soft, Ava told Lexie what happened. Why let everyone else know she’d been careless?

“Was it a guy?”

His image appeared in her mind as a stream of air huffed through her nose. “Quinn O’Neill.”

Lexie drew back. “I know him.”

“He told me, and to set the record straight, he backed into me.”

She eased forward. “Really.”

Ava provided her with all the details except that he paid for her repairs. That upset her even more as she thought about it. Lexie’s “you backed into a car?” comment made an impact. Her car had hit the side of Quinn’s SUV, not the other way around, and she’d let him pay for her damages. More than a thousand dollars. She shouldn’t have allowed him to pay. She hadn’t even offered him a proper thank-you, and now she felt beholden. She pictured his telephone number still on the back of the hardware receipt where he’d jotted it down.

Lexie eased back when she’d finished. “I’m surprised he knew our names. Quinn sort of sticks to himself. I only know his name, because he helped with some computer issues, and I happened to be in the church office that day working on a mailing. We were introduced.”

“You think he’s unsociable?” Ava hadn’t picked up on that. She’d deducted he wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

“Not unsociable really, but on Sunday he’s in and out of church. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him stay for coffee hour after the service.”

“With me, he was quiet but very kind.” And had piqued her interest whether she liked it or not.

“Time to begin.” Shirley Jackmeyer’s voice rose above the hum of private conversations.

Ava leaned against the chair, relieved that she didn’t have to continue the conversation. She hadn’t stopped thinking of Quinn since she’d said goodbye at the body shop. Was it his generosity? Or was it unanswered questions? Warmth spread through her as the truth became clear. An unexpected attraction had drawn her to the man, but a man would only complicate her life. Even a friendship wouldn’t work.

The chair rattled, drawing her back from her thoughts. Kelsey and Ross Salburg slipped into the chairs beside her. Ava gave them a smile, still amazed to see that a number of faithful men had joined the organization after the women voted to become POSK, a parents’ organization. Ross had initiated the change with his desire to be part of the support group.

“Today before we do our sharing, Ross Salburg would like to say a word.” Shirley beckoned to him.

Ross rose and strode to the front. As always, his smile brightened the room. “Ethan Fox couldn’t be here today, and his wife, Lexie—” he swung his arm toward her “—suggested I deliver his news about the Dreams Come True Foundation. So here I am.”

Titters scattered the room.

“Ethan and I were talking about our kids. All of them doing well, by the way.” Rousing applause halted his presentation. “Thanks.” He gave a nod. “Anyway, Ethan asked me to remind you of the opportunity you have to bring one of your children’s wishes to life at no cost to you. Our kids have suffered with their illnesses a long time, and this organization offers them a very special experience. A dream trip for the whole family. Meeting one of your child’s favorite heroes. Even something as simple as spending the day with a fireman and riding in the fire truck. The anonymous donor of these funds recently added a healthy contribution so we want to let others in the community know about this great opportunity. Please spread the word. This fund is available to the special kids in all of South Oakland County.”

“Ross?”

His head snapped to the right. “Maggie?”

“Is this foundation really from a single donor?”

Ava chuckled. She knew the answer.

“Yes. One person.” Ross sent a grin to his wife, Kelsey.

Maggie raised her hand again. “Do we know who it is?”

Ava sputtered at the question. She, too, had been insistent on knowing who it was, but the secret remained. Ethan Fox would be the logical person to know all the details since he represented the Dreams Come True Foundation, but he denied knowing and remained mum.

Ross reiterated the details of the donor for the sake of the newer members, but not knowing the name of the donor still drew everyone’s curiosity as it did hers. Members often speculated. She’d done it herself. The reason why the donor remained anonymous was always her next unspoken question.

While Ross returned to his seat, Kelsey leaned over and asked Ava about her car. Her red sedan must stick out in the crowd of cars outside, because she didn’t expect both of her friends to notice it was missing. She whispered minimal details about the accident and when the meeting concluded, Kelsey had already told Ross. Both stood beside her asking a multitude of questions. She chuckled to herself. If they kept being so insistent, they would certainly steal her “inquisitor” title.

Kelsey gave Ross a poke. “Was the guy nice?”

The memory rushed over her. “Yes. Very.”

“Good-looking?”

The sensation turned to heat. “I’d say so.” She could say more, but they would only pry with more questions.

Ross grinned. “Did you get his name? His phone number?”

Emotions rattled her as their toying looks made her aware of their thoughts. “Quinn O’Neill, and yes, I have his number.” It burned in her handbag.

“Quinn O’Neill?”

She didn’t like Ross’s expression. “What’s wrong with him? He goes to Lexie’s church.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing as far as I know, and it’s Kelsey’s and my church, too. I just thought it was a coincidence that he called yesterday about looking at some work he needed done on his home. He lives in an English Tudor not far from the zoo. I think the street is York.”

Ava’s interest piqued. An English Tudor. She loved those gorgeous houses with turrets and all kinds of interesting rooms. An English Tudor would be easy to spot. One of these days, she might take a ride that way.

Her pulse skipped. What in the world had she become? A stalker.

* * *

Quinn checked his watch and noted he had time before his appointment with the contractor. His mind had been on Ava, and he’d hoped she would call about the plumbing, but she hadn’t. He wondered if Randy had given her a loaner. He plopped into his desk chair and hit his keyboard spacebar. The monitor came to life, and he typed “white pages” into the search engine and pulled up the page. His fingers poised over the keys, questioning his motive. Then he swallowed and typed Ava Darnell, Royal Oak, Michigan into the search bar. He clicked the cursor, and her name appeared on Blair in Royal Oak—not only her address and phone number but a detailed map to her house. He studied the details, grabbed a pencil and jotted down the information.

When he leaned back and looked at the notepad, his jaw tightened as he tried to comprehend what he was doing. Since the accident, he relived the sound of crunching metal and the thud. He thanked God the accident had been a simple fender-bender. Fender-denter. Ava’s phrase made him smile.

Her face hung in his thoughts, and the emotions troubled him. Ava heightened his senses. She made his blood course with her insistent questions. She’d whetted his interest. With her, he felt alive rather than embedded in the past as he’d been for the past few years. On top of it all, she was attractive, not model-beautiful but very appealing. Quinn pictured her full lips curving into a fleeting smile and her eyes twinkling with curiosity when she talked. Ava demonstrated pride, and he admired that. He’d upset her with the insurance issue, and she’d finally allowed him to redeem himself.

In addition, he’d offered to help with the plumbing, but again paying a plumber took no effort on his part. He thought it would be a nice way to make life a little easier for her. She had a sick son. The knowledge humbled him. How would he have reacted if Sean had been diagnosed with a horrible disease? How would he have coped if Sean had lived through the accident and had become paralyzed or brain-damaged or…? Ava’s strength awed him.

Quinn pushed himself away from the computer and rose. His head pounded with what-ifs. What if he’d taken time to convince Sean he’d let him practice driving later? What if he’d demanded that Lydia not take him on the road? What if he’d agreed to take Sean for the driving lesson?

The questions had assaulted him since the day the police came to his door. The same responses billowed in his mind. If he’d been in the car, his quick action might have saved his son. He had more experience driving. How many times had he veered away from a near-accident by some thoughtless driver wanting to pass on a dangerous stretch of highway. Life was far more precious than saving a few minutes by being reckless.

He stood in his home office and shook his head. Let it go. Let it go. No thoughts or what-ifs could change what had happened. He knew his wife’s wishes. Lydia wanted him to live fully. She’d supported him in every way—his preferences, his career and his dreams. She would want him to move on with his life. Instead he’d run away. He’d sold his tremendous home too filled with memories, left his day-to-day business in his brother’s hands and moved across Michigan to this small town where he was unknown and bought this house.

As Quinn scanned the room, he admitted it needed paint. He’d meant to fix the place when he’d moved in. Instead he’d blended into the beige walls, had run his company from long distance and sank into regret. No more. Change meant moving ahead, and that’s what he wanted to do.

Having purpose for once, he turned off the computer, stepped into the hallway and headed for the kitchen. The late April weather decided to play a trick on spring. A chill clung to the air. He filled the coffeemaker and snapped the on button. In moments, the pungent scent filled the room. As he reached into the cabinet for a cup, the doorbell rang. Quinn veered around and headed for the door.

Ross Salburg, with his sturdy frame and smiling brown eyes, stood on his porch. Quinn greeted him, then stepped back, allowing him to enter. At that moment, he realized Ross’s visit was the first in many months. His last visitor had been an electrician he’d hired to upgrade his fuse box. He’d kept to himself, a box locked tight and covered in cobwebs. Pitiful. He shuddered.

Ross scanned the foyer, his eyes shifting to the staircase rising to the second story. “Nice.” He ambled to the dining room, gave a nod of approval, and then strode across the foyer and gazed into the living room. “Nice Adam’s fireplace.”

“I don’t use it.” The admission darkened his attempt to lighten his mood.

“No?” Ross turned to face him. “This was…is a lovely home.”

“That’s the operative word—was. I’ve let things get out of hand. When I bought the place three years ago, I planned to update a few things. Now I’ve let things get shoddy.”

A frown slipped to Ross’s face, and he turned a full circle, then took a step forward, peering past the staircase to the family room beyond. “You live here alone?”

An ache rose in Quinn’s chest. “Yes.”

“This is a lot of space for one person.” Ross grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Don’t apologize, You’re right. It’s more room than I need.” Quinn envisioned the first-floor master bedroom with its double walk-in closets, roomy bath and vaulted ceiling. He figured most women would love it. “A five-bedroom house is wasted on me.”

“Never a waste. You don’t know your future. One day you may share it with someone.”

Quinn eyed Ross. The man had echoed his own recent thoughts. “I made some coffee.” He flagged him toward the family room. “Would you like a cup while we talk?”

“Sounds great. I’ll take it black.” Ross tucked his hand into one pocket and carried his clipboard in the other as he followed Quinn past the staircase. He faltered in the family room, typical of a contractor who appreciated quality architecture.

Quinn veered into the kitchen, and in a few moments, Ross followed. Quinn motioned him toward the table as he rounded the counter to the coffeemaker. After filling the cups, he headed back to the table, well-lighted by the bay window. He enjoyed his morning coffee there, better than anywhere else in the house. The birds played outside flitting between the trees and the birdbath centered in what should have been a flower garden. The only things that grew now were a few straggly perennials that still had life in them.

He set a cup in front of Ross and then sat across from him. Since he’d called the construction company, he’d wrestled with why he’d contacted it and what he wanted them to do. For so long life seemed empty, almost hopeless, but a renewed urge had appeared egging him to make a difference in his life and in his home.

“Okay, then.” Ross took a sip and set down his cup. “You mentioned wanting vinyl trim.”

“Right, and new windows throughout. And I’d like an honest opinion regarding the roof shingles. I think they’re original.”

“Any leaks?” Ross bent over his clipboard taking notes.

“None that I’ve seen.” Quinn’s focus shifted to the interior. “I’d like the rooms painted, but I’m not sure about colors. I’ll have to give it some thought.” His mind flew to Ava who’d mentioned she loved to decorate homes. “I might like a decorator to give me some color ideas. I have no eye for color.” He pictured Lydia bringing home paint and fabric samples.