The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex

His determination startled her. It was just a quilt. She’d passed on many of them before because of price or condition or budget considerations. She’d learned not to grow attached. “Another will come along. And it will be better than this.”

With a soft curse, Dermot gathered the quilt up and tucked it under his arm. He carried it to the register and set it down, Rachel following hard on his heels. “What are you doing?”

“I’d like to buy this,” he said. Dermot pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and laid down four hundred-dollar bills.

Rachel recognized the money immediately. It was nearly all the money he’d made working on the farm. “What are you doing?”

“I’m buying you the quilt. You said you wanted it.”

“I didn’t want you to buy it for me,” she said. “If I wanted it, I’d buy it myself.” She put her hand over the quilt. “Sylvia, we’re just going to talk about this for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Sylvia, I’ve made up my mind,” Dermot countered. “I want the quilt. Please put it in a nice bag.

It’s a gift.”

“I don’t need a gift,” Rachel said, her frustration growing. “Just stop.”

He paid for the quilt and then tucked the bag under his arm and strode out of the shop. Rachel looked at Sylvia, baffled at what had transpired.

“Enjoy your quilt,” the shopkeeper said.

She found Dermot standing on the sidewalk, his shoulders tense, his expression cloudy. His mood had turned so suddenly and Rachel couldn’t figure out why. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. I’m just used to buying quilts on my own.”

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I was just— I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Rachel stood beside him, staring out at the traffic on the street. “Why did you get mad?”

“You said that another quilt would come along. You wanted this one, but you were willing to let it go, knowing that another one would come along. Do you think you’d ever regret letting this one go?”

“Maybe. But it’s just a quilt. And usually a better one comes—” Suddenly, Rachel realized what he was angry about. She groaned inwardly. “So at first men were donkeys and then they were sofas. And now they’re quilts?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds really stupid,” Dermot said. “I guess I’m just a little… sensitive.” He laughed. “Shit, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m not sensitive.”

“You are not a quilt,” she said. “I’m not going to throw you aside for another man… or quilt.”

“I won’t be here. Another quilt will come along. Like that Danny guy at the fair. Has he called yet?”

Rachel winced. He had called. And emailed twice. She’d put him off, but had decided to accept a lunch invitation after Dermot left. “He’s not you.”

“But he’ll become me, once I’m gone. He’s called, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. But I don’t have any plans to go out with him. Maybe we’ll meet for lunch, but we’re not going on a date. We’re just friends.”

“That’s how we started,” Dermot muttered.

“No, we started as lovers. And then we became friends.”

He walked off down the street and Rachel followed after him. She’d never seen him like this, so on edge, so frustrated. Dermot had always taken things lightly. And now he’d gotten upset buying a quilt? Maybe saying goodbye was going to be a lot more difficult that she’d anticipated.

Rachel slipped her hand around his arm as he walked, falling into stride next to him. “Can you just slow down for a second? So we can talk?”

“I’d rather not discuss this. I feel kind of foolish right now.” He stopped and held out the bag. “Here. I bought this for you. I want you to have it. Enjoy it. And please forget the conversation that came with it.”

Rachel pasted a bright smile on her face. “A gift?” she cooed. “You bought me a gift.” She examined the bag. “What could it possibly be?”

“All right, let’s not ignore the fact that I temporarily flipped out. I’ve just been thinking about next week and how hard it’s going to be to leave. And we haven’t really talked about it. And I didn’t think I was a jealous guy, but the thought of you just moving on to someone else irritates the hell out of me.”

“I understand,” Rachel said.

“You’re beautiful and funny and exciting and I just think that someone is going to notice that and you’re going to find some guy and fall madly in love and—”

“Who says I couldn’t fall madly in love with you?” she asked.

“Could you?”

Rachel nodded. She’d already fallen, and pretty hard at that. But she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to admit it. Yet. “What about you? Could you fall in love with me?”

Dermot nodded. “I think I could.” He handed her the quilt. “I want you to have this. I want you to remember who bought it for you. And no matter what happens between us, when you look at it, you’ll think of me. And maybe if you sleep under it, you’ll dream of me.” He laughed. “Strike that last part. That was horribly cheesy.”

“I thought it was kind of romantic,” Rachel said.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

They started off down the street, the mood lighter, their argument forgotten. But Rachel couldn’t help but speculate over his strange behavior. Dermot was usually so smooth, so charming. Everything that came out of his mouth was carefully crafted to make her feel beautiful and important. And now, suddenly, he was stumbling all over himself to express his feelings.

Maybe he was falling in love, Rachel mused. Or maybe he was in love already. She drew a long, slow breath. If that was true, then everything had just become a lot more complicated.

8

BY THE TIME DERMOT finished his shower, he was ready to relax. He and Rachel had spent the entire afternoon doing a health check on the herd, a tedious process that required looking over every goat, trimming hooves and checking ears and general health in preparation for breeding.

Since Trevor had decided to join the football team, he stayed after school every afternoon, joining the milking tasks an hour late. After the milking was done, the boys and Dermot cleaned the parlor and the shed and brought in fresh straw, while Rachel went back to the house to start dinner.

Dermot slipped his bare feet into his shoes and wandered out onto the porch, his unbuttoned shirt flapping in the warm breeze. He expected to find her sitting on the steps, a spot that had become “their place” to watch the sunset.

The boys were at the table doing their homework. “Do you know where Rachel is?” he asked.

“She said she had to go out to the barn,” Taylor said.

Dermot jogged down the steps, happy to find that they’d have a few more moments alone. They’d fallen into a schedule of sorts over the past four days. Like any ordinary family there was a lot of juggling that went on, but it all seemed to work.

He looked for her in the office in the milking parlor and then walked through the goat barn. He found her sitting in a pile of straw next to Lady, the matriarch of the herd. A cluster of goats stood nearby, watching her.

“Hey,” he called. “What’s taking so long? I thought you’d be finished by now.”

She turned to look at him and Dermot frowned. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. He hurried over to her and bent down. “Is she sick?” he said. “I’ll call the vet.”

“No, no.” Rachel shook her head. “She’s fine.”