Save the Best for Last (the sequel to "A Warning Shot Across the Bows")

I closed the bedroom door. Esther and Ruth were asleep inside. I was about to head for my bedroom when I saw Cat climbing the steps.

“Is everyone in bed?” Cat whispered.

“Except the two of us,” I whispered.

“And my father,” she whispered.

I tried not to stare. “He's still awake? After a day like today?”

Cat nodded. “He's standing at the kitchen door, looking outside and drinking coffee.”

“He's going to be late for work again,” I whispered.

“Maybe you can persuade him to go to bed,” she whispered and yawned. “I already tried and failed. I'm going to bed.”

“Sleep well, Cat,” I whispered.

“You, too, Sunny,” she whispered. “Oh, and be careful sitting on your bed.”

“Is something wrong with it?” I whispered.

She smiled. “It's a surprise.”

We hugged and she went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Oh, Quentin. You shouldn't still be awake. If anyone deserves their beauty sleep tonight, it's you. After all, you kept that creep, Caleb, from trying to rape me. And also prevented me from kicking him where it would've done the most harm.

Try to persuade him, Cat had suggested. She knew him better than I did. How in the world could I succeed where she'd failed?

I went into my bedroom, intending to sit on the bed. But there was something there that hadn't been there before Quentin and I had gone to the lake this evening. Something that had once hung by the vanity in my bedroom at my house. Pressed roses in a fan shape, glued to a canvas board, and then put in a frame. This was the surprise that Cat had hinted at. How thoughtful she had been. Like her father. So much like her father.

There was a note from her lying next to it. I picked it up and read it:

Sunny –

One of the firemen brought this while you both were out this evening. It was one of the few things that hadn't been badly damaged or destroyed in the fire at your house. I thought you might like having something that reminded you of happier times.

– Cat

Indeed it did remind me of happier times, but not just in the way Cat was thinking. Back when I was a senior at Dandridge High School. My thoughts slipped back through time to a mostly crowded auditorium on the night of Valentine's Day.

----------

The DJ had her gear on a table near the front of the stage, her headphones on her head. She hadn't switched to the romantic songs yet. It was like skipping from TV channel to TV channel, unable to find something worth watching. In her case, it was to provide some background music before the dancing began. At least she hadn't chosen any waltzes. I always found those to be overly mushy.

I was wearing a long, strapless, red dress a few shades darker than my hair. My hair was elaborately curled on top of my head. I wore a simple gold necklace around my neck. On my feet were a pair of ruby slippers (okay, they were only red, but they reminded me of the ones that Dorothy wore in the movie adaptation, “The Wizard of Oz”). I was drinking cherry 7-Up, trying not to spill any of it on my dress.

Was I alone? No. I had a date. He was standing next to me in his black tuxedo, white ruffled shirt, black socks, and black dress shoes. He looked amazing.

I finished my soda and turned to face him. “I thought you didn't like going to dances, Quentin.”

“I usually don't, Sunny,” he said. “If I'd been left to my own devices, I would probably be at home, lying on the couch, reading a book.” He looked down at his tuxedo jacket. “It's one thing to dress up for church or for work, but isn't this a bit much?”

I shook my head. “It's perfect. And you look very handsome in it.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” Quentin said with a grin.

“Including onto the dance floor?” I asked. “With me?”

“I'm a little rusty, but if you can put up with a few mistaken moves every so often, I'm game,” he said.

“Buster, you have yourself a deal,” I said. I put the cup on a nearby table and led him by the hand to the DJ's table. I whispered a song choice in the DJ's right ear. She smiled and nodded.

As the first notes of the song played, Quentin put his arms around my waist and I put my arms around his neck. Tied to the back side of my right wrist was a white chrysanthemum. I would've preferred a red rose, but he didn't seem ready to give me one. Not yet anyway. Still, it was a pretty flower.

“Interesting choice for a first song,” he said softly. “Vanessa Williams, I believe.”

I nodded. “It's one of my favorites. Whenever I listen to it, I think of you.”

We danced, but when the song reached the third verse, we looked at each other.

And now we're standing face to face

Isn't this world a crazy place

Just when I thought our chance had past

You go and save the best for last

“You trying to say something?” Quentin whispered.

I nodded. “And I think you know what it is. After all, why else did you agree to come to this dance with me?” When he didn't answer, I went on. “How long have we known each other?”

“Six, seven years,” he whispered.

“Seven years, almost to the day, and you know it,” I whispered. “You were the first person to make me feel welcome in our 5^th grade classroom.”

“You returned the favor,” Quentin said. “You defended me when Caleb tried to bully me at the park, and then went on to tutor me in subjects I was weak in.”

“And you were nothing but the perfect gentleman in return,” I whispered. “Including one time, sitting up all night with me when I had the flu. I don't remember much of that night, but Mom told me later what you did.”

“You would've done the same for me,” he whispered.

“And yet here we are, in each other's arms,” I whispered. “More than just friends, I think. Much more.”

The DJ was playing the Cranberries song, “Dreams” now. About half the song was over, but the next verse came through crystal clear:

And now I tell you openly

You have my heart, so don't hurt me

You're what I couldn't find

A totally amazing mind

So understanding and so kind

You're everything to me

“You're everything to me,” I repeated in a whisper.

“Likewise,” he whispered.

I think he was a little uncomfortable. Not just having this conversation, but also with so many of our peers dancing nearby. Thankfully, the music was loud enough that they probably couldn't hear what we were saying to each other. I knew he was nervous for another reason: about being open about his feelings.

His sister Carole had explained it to me earlier that school year as best she could. The brother who had been open and trusting as a child had become steadily more closed and secretive. To protect himself from the possible ridicule he thought he'd receive if people knew what he was really like on the inside. He was still nice and friendly, just as not as much as he used to be. But what could I do to pull that inner self out into the open, to reassure it that it could be safe on the outside?

“Then what are you waiting for?” I asked Quentin.

“Right here?” he asked, looking a little worried.

I nodded. “Right here, right now. Show me you're serious or we're through. I trust I don't need to be more blunt than that?”

He bit his lower lip.

“Fine,” I said, taking my arms from around his neck and tried to free myself. “I did my best. This was absolutely stupid of me. I can't believe I was so dumb. Actually expecting you to –”

Suddenly he pulled me closer to him and kissed me on the lips. Hard. I hadn't expected that kind of reaction. Not from him anyway.

I stared at him when the kiss ended, oblivious to the cat-calls and whistles from those who'd seen what just happened. I don't even remember what song was playing. It didn't really matter.

“You wanted proof, didn't you?” Quentin asked.

I silently nodded.

“Or do you need more than just a demonstration?” he asked.

“That's – that's probably enough for now,” I replied.

Quentin looked over my head, towards the DJ's table. There was a red rose there. It hadn't been there a few minutes before.

We walked over to the table, hand-in-hand.

The DJ smiled. “Never got that kind of reaction from that song before.” She handed the rose to Quentin. “Here. This is for you.” She went back to her job and played the next song.

“Let's go outside,” Quentin suggested and I nodded agreement.

It was dark outside. I think we were the only couple out there. I was grateful for the semblance of privacy because it was interesting that, unlike earlier, Quentin wasn't the nervous one. I was.

We stood on the patio outside the auditorium, a square concrete column at each corner of the patio. Between the columns on the opposite side of the doorway to the auditorium was the banner about the Valentine's Day Dance. There were roses and hearts in and around the words on the banner.

The breeze made it feel a little chilly but Quentin put his arms around me. I felt warmer then.

“We should've brought our coats,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” I said. “I'm really warm enough. Really.”

Quentin smiled briefly. “I wish I was as brave as you are, Sunny.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “In front of that entire dance crowd, you kissed me.”

“I didn't want you to leave,” he said. “Not while you were angry at me. I tried to think of something to keep you there, but I didn't want to force you to stay if you really wanted to leave.”

“Your kiss certainly did the trick,” I said. “Does that mean –?”

He nodded. “I love you, Sunny. I've wanted to say that for a long time, but there never seemed a good time to say it.”

“But now you have,” I said. “And I love you, Quentin.” I laughed softly.

Quentin looked puzzled. “What?”

“Like it said in the first song,” I said. “You saved the best for last.”

“I just hope it won't be the last time we're together,” he said.

“Even if we do break up someday – and I'm not saying I want that to happen – I have the feeling we'll somehow find each other again,” I said.

“I hope you're right,” he said. “I'd like to give you this rose. If that's okay with you.”

“It's more than okay,” I said.

----------

I looked at the framed fan of red roses in my hands. The roses had been given to me by Quentin on our last night together. The night before graduation day. Before everything changed. Before I met Leonard, my husband-to-be. Before I became a wife. And before I became a mother.

Was he still awake? I hadn't heard any footsteps walking past my borrowed bedroom. But, lost in my thoughts, I probably wouldn't have heard any. Elephants could've marched past and I would've heard them.

I walked over to the bedroom door and listened. It was quiet out there. I opened the door. No one in sight. I went to the top of the stairs. Someone had left a lamp or overhead light on in the living room. That wasn't like Quentin. He was always so careful about turning off lights when they didn't need to be on. I guess I'd better go down there and turn it off.

About halfway down the steps, I saw someone sitting on the living room couch. It was Quentin.

He looked up and saw me. Then he gestured to me, asking me to join him on the couch.

---------

Sitting next to him on the couch, I felt like the teenager I'd been at the Valentine's Day Dance all those years ago. Not when we were on the dance floor, but when we'd gone outside to talk.

What did I have to be nervous about now? I was a grown woman. He was a grown man. We'd both been married and lost a spouse. We even had children, all of whom were hopefully asleep upstairs.

“You're not usually this quiet,” Quentin remarked. “Something on your mind?”

I nodded again and handed him the pressed roses in their frame. “Remember these?”

“The roses, yes, but not the frame,” he said. “Our last date. Before we went our separate ways.”

“I wanted to save them,” I said. “Something to remind me of you.”

“And did they?” Quentin asked.

I nodded a third time. “Leonard didn't seem to mind. But he had always been a tolerant, understanding man. He knew that I'd had my share of experiences before we first met. After all, he'd had his share of experiences, too. Nothing that would drive us apart, thank goodness. It might have made our marriage stronger because we had a foundation to build on.”

“And after he died?” he asked.

“It was hard at first,” I admitted, trying not to cry. “There I was. A widow with three children to raise and support. I tried to be strong for their sake. As if I were both their mother and their father. But each time we went to visit his grave, I would be in tears. Tears as catharsis are a good thing. But when tears don't wash away the pain and heal the wounds, you wish you wouldn't cry anymore.”

“Don't ever think that,” Quentin said, taking my hands in his. “Tears are good things. Even if sometimes they don't feel like they're helping, they're proof that you're expressing something that affects you deeply.”

“Do you cry when you visit Yvonne's grave?” I asked.

He nodded. “Every time.”

“And yet here we sit, side by side,” I said. “Quentin? What was it you were going to tell me when Caleb so rudely interrupted you?”

“I was going to say that I'm glad we found each other again, just as you thought we would,” he said. “I'm glad that our children get along with each other so well.”

“And?” I prompted with a grin.

“I love you, Sunny,” Quentin said.

“And I love you,” I said.

We leaned toward each other and kissed. Not the hard kiss that he'd given me on the dance floor way back when. A soft, tender kiss instead. One that accepted the past and promised a future together. A future worth living for.

“Does this mean we get to go to your wedding?” Ruth's voice asked from the stairs.

“Ruth!” Esther said. “They weren't supposed to know we were here.”

“Sorry,” Ruth said. “I was just curious.”

Quentin and I looked at each other, smiled, and softly laughed.

“Is there going to be a wedding?” he asked me.

“You have to propose first,” I replied. “I think it's traditional. You don't have to get down on one knee, though.”

His smile faded. “Sunny? Will you marry me?”

I felt warmth spreading through my entire body. More than it had on that Valentine's Day when we were both seventeen and we had no idea what the years ahead would bring. When anything and everything seemed possible.

“Yes!” I replied. “Yes, I will marry you.”

We kissed again. Our children cheered this time. Loudly enough that I was momentarily afraid the neighbors could hear it. But then the mother-part of me took over.

“And now – for real this time – we all need to go to bed,” I said. “No pretending.”

“Okay, Mom,” my children said, one after the other.

There was a pause and then I heard Cat say, “Okay, Mom.”

When they were upstairs again, Quentin said, “You're amazing.”

“That makes two of us,” I said.

He looked at the framed pressed roses. “I think I know a good place to put this until we find a place to hang it.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said. “We.”

“So do I,” Quentin said.

Hand-in-hand, we followed our children up the steps and then into Quentin's bedroom. It was the first time I'd been in there and I looked forward to many more times.

I watched as Quentin placed the framed pressed roses on the top of his dresser, where we could see them from the bed.

When we got into bed together for the very first time, I thought: Maybe I should just sell my house. Let someone else live there and make their own happy memories.

Quentin and I put our arms around each other and I laid my head on his chest. He kissed me on the forehead.

“Sleep well,” he whispered.

“You too,” I whispered.

I could hear his heart gently beating as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

Just when I thought our chance had past

You go and save the best for last