Family Secrets

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id87.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="All Hallows Eve"><U><B>All Hallows' Eve</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id88.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fall Camoflage"><U><B>Fall Camoflage</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id89.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Cyrus"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Cyrus</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id90.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Roxanne"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Roxanne</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id91.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Claude"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Claude</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id92.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Christmas Magick"><U><B>Christmas Magick</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id93.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Maggie"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Maggie</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id94.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Winters Deep Freeze"><U><B>Winter's Deep Freeze</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id95.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Sabrina"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Sabrina</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id96.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Frostbite"><U><B>Frostbite</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id97.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: The Collins Family"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  The Collins Family</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id98.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Biding Time in Purgatory"><U><B>Biding Time in Purgatory</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id99.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Quentin"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Quentin</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>Family Secrets</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id102.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Vortex"><U><B>Vortex</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id101.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Spring Whirlwind"><U><B>Spring Whirlwind</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id103.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Den of Vipers"><U><B>Den of Vipers</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id104.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Angelique"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id105.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Converging Forces"><U><B>Converging Forces</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id106.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Flames of Purification"><U><B>Flames of Purification</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Adam in Parallel Time"><U><B>Adam in Parallel Time</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>Family Secrets</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> After breakfast, Quentin stopped by the desk to pick up a message from Chris.  He read the message, made a face, and crumpled it.  Damn, he thought, disappointed.  "What is it?" Maggie was asking.  "Bad news?"</div> <div> He laughed sheepishly.  "Not so terrible.  We're getting a Volvo-Chris is having a rental delivered here so we can get around.  I didn't think we should hitchhike out to see Jenny.  I thought we should go in some style and impress your sister, eh?"</div> <div> "A Volvo!" Maggie was impressed.  She was used to driving used Chevys.</div> <div> "Well," Quentin admitted, "I was hoping we could get an Alfa Romeo."</div> <div> Maggie smiled indulgently.  "You men never grow up when it comes to fast, sporty cars, do you?  At least it's not a-a-" She tried to think of the worst car model possible.  "A Corvair!"</div> <div> Quentin laughed.  A Volvo was still a nice car for a rich newly married couple to tool around in, he thought.  Sometimes he thought he'd like to just get a regular car like Adam's borrowed Ford Galaxy-it was big and comfortable and could take a lot of people around on a trip.  It was a good family car-not one a wealthy family would travel around in, but sometimes he thought he'd like to forget about the money and just be "regular folks" again.  They came out onto the porch of the Inn.  The car wouldn't be delivered for another hour or so. </div> <div> Maggie was looking toward the beach.  The breeze was blowing her hair about.  She laughed and said, "I'm going to have to put my hair up today!"</div> <div> "No, don't," he said, reaching out and touching her hair.  He smoothed it back behind one ear.  They looked at each other, the unspoken communication between them was clear.  We have time.  Quentin put his arm around her and they walked toward their cottage.  Maggie did something daring-well, there was no one to see, anyway: she slipped her hand inside his pants, down below the belt.  They found they couldn't get inside fast enough before beginning to tear at each other's clothing, laughing.</div> <bR> <div> Maggie felt totally out of her element as she climbed into the Volvo.  Quentin was delighted with the car; Maggie felt overwhelmed by the luxuriousness of the vehicle.  She wondered if she would ever get used to this lifestyle.  She was looking forward to spending the day with her sister.  After that, they would go to Boston to visit Quentin's Aunt Nancy and his cousins; from there-Collinwood.  It loomed ahead of her like a final exam in calculus.  She tried not to be nervous; still, the fact that they'd married on such short notice and the fact that only two of Quentin's cousins showed up for the wedding must mean that they didn't approve of her.</div> <div> She glanced over at Quentin.  She still couldn't get over how he could love her.  What was it about her that he found appealing?  He was so handsome, so attentive, and such a wonderful lover-he really could've had his pick of anyone in the world.  Why her, of all people?  He caught her looking at him.  "What?  Did you leave lipstick on me?" he teased her.</div> <div> "Here," she teased back.  It gave her a reason to touch him.  She pretended to remove lipstick from his cheek by wetting her fingers and rubbing his face gently.  He winked at her and leered, and she laughed.</div> <div> They pulled up in front of Jennifer's house and saw the Ford Galaxy parked there.   "Oh, good," Quentin said, pleased.  "Adam's here.  I hope he left his hippie friend at home."</div> <div> "I don't think Randy's a hippie, Quentin," Maggie commented.  "I don't think hippies go to Vietnam."</div> <div> He gave her an odd look.  "You've become an expert on Vietnam veterans, have you?" he challenged her.</div> <div> Maggie felt humiliated.  How could she have said something so stupid?  She didn't know anything about the soldiers-worse, Quentin's brother had been killed there.  She blushed furiously.  "No-I-guess that was a silly thing to say."</div> <div> "I hope you don't make it a point of saying silly things, Maggie," Quentin said lightly.  Maggie glanced at him.  He was smiling, but she wasn't sure if he was kidding or not.  She felt disturbed and ill at ease.  He took her elbow and escorted her toward the house.</div> <div> Dan answered the door.  He was a trim and muscular man with thinning hair, looking more like a gym teacher than an attorney.  He greeted them indifferently, and Quentin said, "How are you, stranger?"</div> <div> Dan, who'd been leading them up the stairs, half-turned and glared at them.  "Excuse me?"</div> <div> "He's just teasing," Maggie said quickly.</div> <div> "Don't make excuses for me," Quentin snapped irritably.  They were at the top of the steps now, and Quentin and Dan faced each other.  Neither said a word.</div> <div> Jennifer came in quickly from the kitchen.  She seemed nervous and ill at ease.  "Maggie, Quentin!" She cried out, too brightly.  She rushed over to kiss them both and then grabbed Maggie by one arm and Quentin by the other, practically hauling them into the living room.  "I invited Adam to come over."</div> <div> "Good, I wanted to see Adam again before we left," Quentin said, pleasant again.</div> <div> Adam stood up, beaming, shaking hands with Quentin and Maggie.  Without Adam's presence it might have been a very uncomfortable afternoon.  Jennifer overcooked the roast beef and it was tough.  Dan was sullen and uncommunicative, refilling his drink several times without bothering to ask anyone else if they needed to be refreshed.  Jennifer herself seemed jumpy.  Adam seemed not to notice and made pleasant small talk with Maggie and Quentin, asking them about the Riviera and the places they'd visited.</div> <div> After the meal, Dan stood up and announced he had to meet with some clients.  It came as no surprise to anyone and they barely acknowledged his departure.  Jennifer visibly relaxed in his absence.  "Come on, Maggie, help me clear the dishes and tell me all your secrets," Jennifer invited.  She told Quentin and Adam they could watch TV downstairs or go out into the yard.</div> <div> "What do you watch on Sunday afternoons, Adam?  The Knicks?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Knicks?"</div> <div> "No basketball, huh?  What do you watch?"</div> <div> "Old movies.  Cartoons," Adam said.  "You can turn on basketball if you want.  What do you do on Sundays?"</div> <div> "Used to drink a lot," Quentin laughed.  They went downstairs and turned on the TV.  Quentin threw himself on the sofa.</div> <div> "What did you do with your brother?  Did you watch basketball?  Or play hockey?" Adam asked.</div> <div> "Not at Collinwood," Quentin answered.  "We used to go to some of the Islanders games, yeah, and some of the Knicks and Celtics games, too-when I was in school here, that is."</div> <div> "What did you do at Collinwood?"</div> <div> "Got into trouble, mostly."  Quentin stopped laughing, his brows rushing together.  "Not that I had to try very hard.  I wasn't a popular person around there."</div> <div> "You must have been lonely."  Adam could feel the waves of miserable memories emanating off his friend.</div> <div> Quentin didn't answer.  He seemed to be thinking.  "I really wanted to like them," he finally said.  "They were family.  I thought they'd like me-I had no idea how much they resented me.  Old Jamison should've left me where I was, I guess."</div> <div> "Why didn't he?"</div> <div> "Because he was a narrow-minded hypocritical son of a bitch, that's why," Quentin snapped.  "He came looking for me because he didn't think his own son or daughter measured up to his expectations, so he passed them over.  He let them know it, too.  He was constantly pushing it in their faces-well, I didn't know it then.  No wonder they couldn't stand me, but still-I was just a kid.  I sure as hell didn't ask for their inheritance."  The drinks he'd consumed made him more talkative than he usually was.  He was telling Adam things only Cyrus knew.</div> <div> Adam had turned on the basketball game but neither man was really watching.  Adam sat in the chair across from Quentin, looking toward the TV but not really paying attention to what was happening. Quentin began to laugh.  "What's so funny?" Adam asked.</div> <div> "I was just thinking about telling the old man about Angelique-that she was pregnant and I had to marry her.  That was after Gabriel died."</div> <div> "I remember.  You said she wanted an a-a-ab-"</div> <div> "Abortion."</div> <div> "Yes.  Was he angry with you?"</div> <div> "I thought he was going to kill me," Quentin answered bitterly.  "He only raised his hand to a couple of times before-when I was little."  He glanced over at Adam.  "I could have stopped him-I was bigger than he was."</div> <div> "Why didn't you?" Adam asked.  Quentin shrugged and didn't answer.  "I don't understand," he went on softly.  </div> <div> "What?   That he beat me?  Well, I was not living up to his expectations and the old fuck knew it was too late to throw me out on my ear and groom a new heir." Quentin sounded angry and bitter still.</div> <div> "I don't understand that kind of bad feelings toward family," Adam answered.  "Barnabas hurt me.  I didn't understand why-not then.  I do, now, I suppose, but when he hit me with the cane I did not understand why.  I was just trying to protect myself."  Quentin didn't answer.  He sat up, moodily swirling his drink around.  "You understand.  This happened to you, too.   You felt betrayed by this cousin, Jamison?"</div> <div> "Many times."  The talk was beginning to dredge up very bad memories for Quentin.  He could feel the anger churning around inside, wanting to get out.  "Maybe we ought to go for a walk, eh?" he suggested, setting the drink down.  He felt like he was going to explode if he didn't move around.</div> <div> "We can talk about something else while we walk," Adam suggested.  They went upstairs and could hear Jenny and Maggie talking in the kitchen.  They went outside and began to walk down the street.  Adam thought about something that might make Quentin feel better.  "It'll be nice for you to see your Aunt Nancy," he said finally.  "I met her at your reception.  And I saw her in Boston-"</div> <div> "You did?" Quentin interrupted his face lighting up.  Adam meant to tell Quentin about that odd visit, seeing Angelique's sister.  "Yeah, she's really nice, isn't she?"  Seeing the look on his friend's face, Adam decided not to talk about Alexis yet.  His friend seemed more cheerful now.  Quentin was remembering his aunt Nancy sending him, Gabriel, and his cousins off on Sundays to come up with a "show" for the grownups.  He remembered how they would all make up skits, rehearse, and then come back and entertain his mother, Aunt Nancy, Uncle Frank, and any other guests who were around.</div> <div> Adam laughed, trying to imagine Quentin singing, dancing, and playing a role in a skit.   "I don't do any of that stuff now.  I don't think I could stand up and tell a joke if I tried."</div> <div> "You can, too-you just need to try," Adam suggested.  "Isn't it like riding a bike?"</div> <div> Quentin shrugged.  "I don't know.  We don't have parties like that at Collinwood."  And he stopped smiling.</div> <div> "Why do you stay there if you are so unhappy?" Adam asked.</div> <div> "I was thinking about that," Quentin admitted.  "I was thinking that maybe I don't have to-not really.  I don't think the will says I have to stay in that house.  I could run the business from Boston, maybe."</div> <div> "Ah!  Near your Aunt Nancy!" Adam exclaimed.  He thought that would cheer Quentin up again, but he seemed to be brooding again.  "What is wrong, Quentin?"</div> <div> "I don't know.  It's like being in prison, I guess.   I can't imagine not being at Collinwood anymore."</div> <div> "Do they all hate you?" Adam asked.</div> <div> Quentin heard the compassion in his voice and was touched.   Maybe Adam was kind because he was childlike; maybe he was kind because he himself had been abused and was determined to be nice to other people.  Quentin shook his head.  No, that was what he thought about himself-he was trying to be a decent person in spite of everything that had happened.  He wanted to be like Gabriel-not like Roger or Elizabeth or some of his crueler Collins cousins.  Vicki seemed to have managed all right.  "No," he answered finally.   "Not all of them do.  I guess that's what makes it tolerable.  I guess I was sort of biding time, waiting for Roger and Elizabeth to die."</div> <div> "Quentin!" Adam exclaimed, shocked.</div> <div> "It's true," Quentin answered, shrugging.  "What can I say?"  He stopped walking.  "Look, Adam, they're never going to change their minds about me-it doesn't matter what I do or what I say.  They haven't forgiven me for their father rejecting them.  Maybe it's easier for them to take it out on me than on him-they never said anything to him, for God's sake, and he was the one that disinherited them, not me."</div> <div> "I'm sorry," Adam said. </div> <div> Quentin shrugged.  "It doesn't matter anymore," he lied.  "Besides, I was thinking about setting up in Boston.  It's close enough to Collinsport for me to get there if I need to.  I trust Chris-he's my attorney.  And Joe Haskell's a good man.  Roger and Elizabeth can have Collinwood all to themselves.  They'll be happy."</div> <div> "It sounds like a good idea, Quentin." Adam sounded encouraging.</div> <div> "I don't want my children to grow up in that cold house," Quentin declared.  "I don't like having Daniel there, to be honest with you, although they seem to treat him decently enough.  I don't let him go around in the other rooms, though-especially not Roger's."  He shuddered involuntarily, remembering Roger's rage when he came into the bedroom and found Quentin holding the slides.</div> <div> Adam noticed.  "What is it?"</div> <div> Quentin shook his head, still shaking.  "Nothing," he lied.  He remembered, though.  His cousin was a man already, tall and solidly built.  He moved fast and was on Quentin before he could do more than drop the slides onto the floor.  Roger hit him so hard, his lip split.  His hand whipped back and forth, slapping Quentin's face and knocking him down.  Roger pulled him back up, shoving him across the room.  Quentin was crying; he couldn't help himself-he was terrified at what he'd seen in the pictures and at his cousin's unrestrained fury. </div> <div> "Quentin, tell me," Adam insisted.  "Someone beat you up," he guessed, suddenly remembering the upraised cane and his shock and feelings of betrayal.  He thought he must have looked like Quentin did now. </div> <div> With that, Quentin told the story.  They'd begun walking again.  "We were all kids-I think I was eleven.  We were bored-there were no lessons for some reason, and so we were playing hide and seek.  My cousin Chris said he knew where there were these dirty pictures of my cousin Roger and some other guys, so we went into his room to look.  Chris took out a box of slides.  I didn't believe him, so I started to look at the pictures.  And they were sex pictures of my cousin Roger and some-some other guys."</div> <div> "Oh!" Adam exclaimed.  "Sex-and guys?  How?"</div> <div> "Oh-you were like me then," Quentin said and laughed, but not in a mean way.  He explained, describing the slides he'd seen.</div> <div> "I don't think I'd like that," Adam declared, and Quentin burst out laughing.  </div> <div> "Me neither, but it's not really anybody's business.  Well, that's why Jamison disinherited Roger, you see?"</div> <div> "No.  He was doing that with other people, not with his father," Adam answered.  He paused, thinking.  "Quentin, Cyrus told me there are laws in the Bible about how people are supposed to behave.  He told me where to read and I did, but I did not agree with everything.  I think that Cyrus was trying to tell me that I should not be living with Roxanne because Paul talked about not having sexual relations at all.  I also read that men were not supposed to be with men nor women with women."</div> <div> "Yes-that's why Jamison disinherited his son.  I think he was just so damn mad about Roger being homosexual, he couldn't stand the sight of him.  He thought it was sinful-he went on about that stuff all the time.  That it was unnatural.  Roger knew he was out of the will anyway, so he began to bring his friends to the house through the west wing.  I don't know if he thought it was a big secret or if he was trying to aggravate his father or what.  When Jamison was dying, he wouldn't see Roger.  Wouldn't talk to him and didn't want to hear his name."</div> <div> "I would not do that to my son," Adam declared.  "I know what it said in the Bible, but I never read a part where Jesus said that.  He said to love your neighbor as you love yourself.  He didn't say `except if your name is homosexual or Jewish or colored or this or that.'"</div> <div> Quentin stopped and turned toward Adam again, surprised and impressed by what his friend had said.  That had never occurred to him before. "I hope I wouldn't reject Daniel or any other child of mine," Quentin said honestly.  "I don't know how I'd feel, to tell you the truth.  It's easy for me to stand here and tell you that I think Jamison made a mistake disinheriting Roger. Roger's not a stupid man-not by a long shot.  But he won't do a damn thing for anyone but himself because he's so bitter."</div> <div> That didn't mean that Quentin forgave Roger for the beating, though.  He could understand his cousin's anger-he really had been someplace he had no business being, looking at things he had no business looking at.  Still, he thought that Roger allowed himself to get carried away more because of being disinherited than because Quentin had seen the pictures.  He told Adam that Chris and Tom managed to get away, but that Roger had grabbed him and had begun hitting him.  After Quentin fell the second time, Roger pulled his belt off.  He dragged Quentin back to his feet, shoved him onto the bed and then whipped him with the belt until he screamed.</div> <div> "Finally he let me go-told me he'd kill me if I talked.  I went right down to the basement and tried to get myself cleaned up.  Tom was hiding down there, too, scared shitless.  He took one look at me and ran off.  I was really scared I was going to catch it then, but he came back with my cousin Vicki."  Vicki was the kindest to him of all the cousins, he remembered.  He and Vicki had the same stigma-bastards both.  The difference was that Vicki's father married her mother before she was born.  She really wasn't a bastard at all, Quentin thought-except to the rest of the family.</div> <div> "Vicki helped you?"  Adam remembered a Vicki from the other time and wondered if this would be her counterpart.</div> <div> "Yes-she was a couple of years older, kinda like a little mother.  She sent Tom to get Gabriel.  Then she helped me clean up."  Quentin remembered how gentle Vicki was, trying to stop the bleeding from his lip.  One of his eyes was already swollen shut.  Vicki was trying very hard not to show how shocked she was at his injuries.  She'd probably never seen anyone beat up like that.  He had bruises on his arms from Roger's hands gripping him and shaking him.  He didn't forget that, unflinching, she continued to hold his bloody tee shirt to his lip, trying to stanch the bleeding.  She spoke to him gently, telling him not to worry; he'd be all right.  "She probably couldn't wait for Gabriel to get there, poor kid.  I never asked her, but I'll bet that's how she felt." Quentin explained.  He told Adam what happened next.</div> <div> Gabriel came running down the stairs.  "Holy shit!" he roared angrily.  "Who did this?"</div> <div> "Roger," Vicki said, when Quentin wouldn't answer.</div> <div> Gabriel took a deep breath and then said, "Look, all you kids clear out.  Let me talk to my brother."  When all the other children left, Gabriel led Quentin under the lightbulb to look at his injuries.  "That motherfucker punched you and beat you up, Buddy?" he asked.  "Did he do anything else to you?"</div> <div> Quentin was too ashamed to tell him.</div> <div> "Did he touch you, Quentin?" Gabriel demanded roughly.  "Did he do anything to you with his-his thing?"</div> <div> "No!" Quentin said at last, shocked.  He understood now what Gabriel was asking, what his brother feared had happened.  "No, he didn't do that, Gabe, honest!  I found his pictures, see, I was looking at them, and he-"</div> <div> "What pictures?"  Quentin told Gabriel about the slides.  "C'mere, lemme see the lip again."  He turned Quentin so that he could get a better look at the split lip.  Quentin leaned against the washing machine, winced, and cried out.  "What?  I thought you told me he didn't-"</div> <div> "Well, but he did hit me with his belt," Quentin admitted, reddening with shame for acting like a baby.</div> <div> "Let me see," Gabriel demanded, insisting that Quentin drop his pants.  There were welts all over.  Quentin heard Gabriel's sharp intake of breath.  "Pull `em up," he snapped.</div> <div> "Are you mad at me, Gabe?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Christ, no, kid, not at you!" Gabriel cried out.  "He had no right to hurt you like that, Buddy. Come on, we're gonna get some ice for your lip.  I don't know-you might need some stitches anyway."</div> <div> "I don't want Ma to know," Quentin began to cry again.  </div> <div> "Ah, geez," Gabriel said roughly, pulling his brother to him and holding him.  "You're not gonna hide anything from Ma.  You got a beaut of a shiner, first of all.  And a fat lip.  You could say you got into a fight with Chris or one of the others but Ma is going to know by those welts.  Don't think she won't notice, neither-you're gonna hurt when you sit, Quentin.  You can't hide that.  Look, don't worry, I'll take care of it."  He put his arm around his brother.  "Let's go-we'll go up to the kitchen and I'll get you some ice."</div> <div> Gabriel grabbed some ice cubes and wrapped them in a washcloth.  "Come on."  He took Quentin back to their suite.  Their mother wasn't there-maybe she was out shopping with Mrs. Johnson.  She liked to do that on the sly.  "You're gonna lie down and rest now, all right?"  He had Quentin lie down on his stomach on his bed, with the ice pressed to his mouth.</div> <div> "Where you goin', Gabriel?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Don't worry-I'll be right back," Gabriel promised.  He kept his promise after twenty minutes.  He came in, looking disheveled but content and sat down on Quentin's bed to talk to him gently. "Lemme see again."  Gabriel checked Quentin's lip.  "Okay, it looks like it stopped.  Maybe you won't need stitches after all."</div> <div> They had been talking quietly for a little while.  Quentin finally began to relax.  He grew sleepy, overwhelmed by the shock and pain of the beating and was starting to drift off, listening to Gabriel's voice talking to him softly about the old days and the treehouse.  The door suddenly swung open and their mother stood there, swaying a little.  "The old man is yelling his head off.  He wants to see you, Gabriel.  What-" She broke off, looking at Quentin.  "Oh, my God!" she cried out.</div> <div> "He's okay, Ma," Gabriel assured her as she knelt beside Quentin.  He turned his head, ashamed and frightened.  "I took care of him-I took care of that bastard Roger.  That's what the old man is yelling about, isn't it?"</div> <div> "If that old bastard thinks he is going to talk to you all alone, he's got another think coming! He's going to talk to all of us!" their mother declared, her mouth setting in a determined line.  Quentin could smell that she'd been drinking again-probably a lot.  Sometimes that bolstered her courage and she could stand up to the old man and give him what's for.  Apparently this was one of those times.  "Get up, Quentin!"</div> <div> Quentin got up obediently, even though he was sore and stiff and just wanted to be left alone.  The three of them went down to the study.  Helen knocked at the door.  "Come in, you little son of a bitch!" Jamison called roughly.  His eyes widened in shock when he saw the three of them come in.  "I didn't ask for you-I just want your roughneck son!"</div> <div> "Oh yeah?  Well did you see this?" Helen snapped, pulling Quentin forward.</div> <div> Jamison got up abruptly, his face paling in shock.  "Roger did that-that's why I beat him up!" Gabriel explained as Jamison gently put his hands on Quentin's face and tilted it back.</div> <div> Quentin could feel the old man's hands beginning to tremble.  "Why?" he whispered.  Quentin, remembering Roger's threat, was too frightened to answer.</div> <div> Gabriel said:  "Because he was a curious kid, that's why.  He went into Roger's room and saw stuff Roger didn't want him seeing."</div> <div> Jamison made a sound of disgust and moved away, turning toward the window.  "You were trespassing, Quentin?" he asked.</div> <div> "Yes, sir," Quentin whispered.</div> <div> "Don't ever go into that room again, do you hear me?"  Jamison's voice was harsh and angry.</div> <div> "Yes, sir."</div> <div> "Is that it?" Helen demanded, incredulously.</div> <div> "No." Jamison turned around, his eyes boring into Quentin's.  "I warned you-you are never to go into Roger's room again, invited or not.  If I hear that you've been in there, I will thrash you myself."  His voice sounded controlled but he was very angry, and Quentin knew he meant it.  As Helen began to protest, he held his hand up.  "Stop!  I know what you're going to say.  The boy trespassed.  He was duly beaten.  Gabriel then took it upon himself to seek retribution and attacked Roger."</div> <div> "Beat the shit out of him-that's the truth!" Gabriel said defiantly.</div> <div> Jamison turned his cold eyes on him.  "Yes.  And I will not permit that."  As Helen began to speak up again, Jamison held his hand up again and hissed at her.  "Sssh, woman!  I'm not condoning the beating of children around here, but Quentin had no business being in that room.  This is something that should have been brought to my attention right away.  But since you chose to take matters into your own hands, Gabriel, I have no other choice but to send you away."</div> <div> "NO!" Quentin shouted, in frenzy.  The whole thing was unfair.</div> <div> Jamison ignored him.  "You will complete your senior year at the high school but you will board with a family in town.  I'll make the arrangements."</div> <div> "What!"  This was Helen shouting now.  "You can't do this!  Who in the hell do you think you are?"</div> <div> "No, my dear-who the hell do you think you are?" Jamison answered coldly.  Helen shut her mouth abruptly, reddening.</div> <div> "No!" Quentin shouted again.  "If you send him away, you send me, too!  I won't stay here!"</div> <div> "Go back to bed and get some rest, boy," Jamison said, dismissing Quentin with a wave of his hand.</div> <div> "No!  I hate you!" Quentin screamed, furious.  He felt completely betrayed by Jamison.  His cousin had always treated him sternly but fairly-this was so incredibly unfair and cruel. "I won't stay here!  I want to go with Gabriel!"</div> <div> The old man remained implacable.  "You will learn, Quentin, that you can't always get what you want.   You are lucky-my first inclination was to send the little hoodlum back to Boston.  This way you'll still see him from time to time.  It's better that way."</div> <div> "Come on, Buddy, it doesn't matter," Gabriel said roughly, pulling Quentin away.  Helen stumbled along after them, too stunned to say a word.  Quentin seethed with rage and hatred.  "It doesn't matter, Buddy-don't let him see that he's hurt you.  Don't let him know," Quentin could almost hear his brother's voice whispering to him urgently.</div> <div> "That man really sent your brother away?"  Adam asked, breaking into Quentin's thoughts.  "He was cruel!"</div> <div> "Ruthless," Quentin agreed.  "What's worse, I loved him until then.  He'd been good to me, taking me places with him.  He'd take me sailing with him-Maggie's father usually sailed the boat.  Or he'd take me horseback riding.  Down to the cannery, showing me off.  I thought he loved me-because of who I was.  My great-grandfather was his uncle, and they were very close.  Then Jamison was close to my grandfather and wanted him to take over the business but then he died unexpectedly.  And my father was already dead."  Quentin shrugged "After he sent Gabriel away, though, I thought he couldn't love me or he wouldn't be so cruel.  I thought then he was just trying to teach me the ropes so I'd know how to run the business.</div> <div> "What did you do?"</div> <div> "Made his life a living hell until he sent me to public school," Quentin answered with a laugh.  At Adam's puzzled look, he added, "I terrorized the governess and made her quit.  I threw the books around the room and picked fights with Tom, Chris and the others.  I made three governesses in a row quit before the old man took a strap to me, and I just laughed at him.  He asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted to go to public school.  So he finally sent me."</div> <div> Adam was shaking his head in bewilderment.  "But why?"</div> <div> "Well, in the beginning-so I could see Gabe every day, of course.  Later on, it was just so I could stay the hell out of there for a while.  That's how I first met Jennifer and Maggie."</div> <div> They walked along in silence, and then Adam asked, "How did you get to Long Island?"</div> <div> "Well, after Gabe graduated high school, the old man sent him away.  Gabe went to Boston first and stayed with my Aunt Nancy for the summer.  She got him into a community college on Long Island.  Why there?  Well, it was to get Gabe further away from Collinsport, I think.  He was already beginning to mess around with Angelique.  He brought her to Boston once, and my Aunt Nancy hated her.  I have more family-cousins-down on Long Island so that's why it was there.  So he started to go to college down there, but he was goofing off and coming back up to see Angelique anyway.</div> <div> "I was starting to get into trouble-I was fighting with the town kids now and cutting school, things like that.  The old man was tearing his hair out.  My mom told my Aunt Nancy and she asked these cousins again, and they told her about this school in Stonybrook.  Aunt Nancy told my mother, my mother told Mrs. Johnson, and she let it slip to Elizabeth-leaving my mother out of it, of course.  So the old man checks into it and finds out that it's a good prep school and he decides maybe the best thing for me is to get out of Collinwood and have a really good education.  So the last laugh was on him.  I had a family of cousins and my brother living in the area, I met Cy and a whole lot of other good people there at that school.  I felt like I was free."</div> <div> They'd gotten back to the house and stood on the front yard, facing each other.  "You're not free now, Quentin.  That's sad.  I understand why you don't want to go back.  It really is an evil place."</div> <div> Quentin nodded.  "Yes, well, I'm really considering just picking up Daniel and leaving."</div> <div> "I think you should," Adam agreed strongly.  He and Quentin looked at each other steadily for a few minutes.  Quentin wondered if he really could break away and Adam tried to will him the strength to go through with it.  They went back into the house.</div> <div> Maggie got from her chair in the living room to meet her husband.  "Quentin!  You went for a long walk!"</div> <div> He put his arms around her, pulling her close to him.  "Did you miss me?" he asked her in a teasing manner.  He wasn't teasing, though.  It was important to him to know that she had missed him--that he meant that much to someone.</div> <div> "Terribly," she answered, in a teasing voice, too.  He was convinced she meant it though.  They stayed another hour and then it was time to go.  They'd checked out of the Inn already and everything was in the trunk of the Volvo.  They just had to drive out east to pick up the ferry to New London.  At the last minute, Jennifer decided she wanted to go and asked Adam to drive her because she and the baby wouldn't fit in the rented car.  Adam agreed.</div> <div> They were waiting for the ferry and Quentin was looking forward to visiting with Aunt Nancy again when he heard Maggie and Jennifer both gasp.  He turned to find Adam sagging slowly to the ground.  Quentin got behind his friend in time to prevent his head from hitting the pavement.  Adam seemed semi-conscious; his eyes rolled back in his head.  "Bar-na-bas," he said in a guttural voice.</div> <div> "What's wrong with him?  What's wrong with him?"  Jennifer asked.</div> <div> "I don't know-what happened?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "He was fine," Maggie began.  "He was talking to me, saying to tell Nancy hello, and then he grabbed his chest and went all pale in the face.  Then he collapsed."</div> <div> "Maybe we should call an ambulance," Jennifer suggested.</div> <div> Quentin was about to agree when Adam's eyes opened and he grabbed Quentin's jacket.  "No!  Cyrus!  Dr. Cyrus!"</div> <div> "What's happening?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "It's like when I first came here," Adam gasped out.</div> <div> "What is he talking about?" Maggie asked, puzzled, but Quentin understood.</div> <div> "Hold on, Adam, hold on!" He said, gripping Adam's shoulder reassuringly.  He got up.  "Stay with him."  He turned and ran for a phone, depositing a coin and calling Cyrus.  Sabrina answered the phone and Quentin asked for Cyrus, praying he would be there.  He was immensely relieved to hear his friend's voice speaking in friendly and delighted greeting.  "Cy, listen!" he interrupted.  "Adam's in trouble."</div> <div> "Adam?  What is it?" Quentin explained what happened rapidly, looking over his shoulder.  He was relieved to see that Adam was sitting up now, supporting his head in his hands.  "Is he fading?" Quentin looked at the phone incredulously, then back at Adam and reported that no, he wasn't.  "Is he able to get up?"  Quentin called the question to Adam and he nodded slowly.</div> <div> With Maggie and Jennifer walking on either side, Adam came to the phone booth and took the receiver.  "Doctor Cyrus, I felt a spinning in my head.  It was almost like that vacuum feeling many months ago.  No, I didn't feel like I was being pulled back.  It was like being pushed-it's hard to explain, like someone bumped me.  I am feeling better now, not dizzy anymore.  I just feel very weak.  Yes, I still have the fizzy drink at home.  I will go and have some of it.  Yes, thank you."  Adam gave the phone back to Quentin.</div> <div> "What's going on?" Quentin asked, worried.</div> <div> "I'm not sure," Cyrus answered.  "He doesn't seem to be in any imminent danger now.  Perhaps there was a disruption in time that affected him somehow."</div> <div> "He said `Barnabas'," Quentin remembered.  Beside him, Adam jumped as if he'd been stuck with a hot poker.</div> <div> "The man who played a part in creating him," Cyrus recalled.</div> <div> "Right.  What does it mean?"</div> <div> "I don't know-I don't understand all these things," Cyrus answered.  "I think he'll be all right, though, Quentin-it's not Beltane.  As far as I know, there are no time bands on Long Island."</div> <div> Quentin laughed nervously.  "We didn't think there were any at Collinwood, either."</div> <div> "Yes, well, I think he should go back to his house and have some of that compound.  I'll mix up some more of it for him."</div> <div> "All right.  I'll tell him."</div> <div> "And call me if anything else happens before the ferry comes."  After a moment's pause, Cyrus asked:  "When will you be home, Quentin?"</div> <div> "I'll be at Collinwood in a few more days," Quentin answered, very deliberately not saying `home'.  To him, it hadn't been `home' in years.  He hung up and looked at Adam, worried.  He liked Adam very much and didn't want anything to happen to him.  "Look, Cyrus thinks you should go home and take the compound."</div> <div> "What compound?" Jennifer asked.</div> <div> "Adam has a medical condition," Quentin lied smoothly, and his friend looked at him gratefully.  "He gets weak and passes out.  Doesn't happen often.  But when it does-well, there's this medicine he needs to take.  You need to drive him back to Brightwaters, Jenny, and make sure he takes that medicine."</div> <div> "Sure I will," Jennifer agreed, looking at Adam with concern.  She and Maggie threw their arms around each other, hugging each other as tightly as they could without crushing the baby.  Then Maggie picked up the baby and kissed him on his fat cheeks.</div> <div> "I'm sorry," Adam said to Quentin, shaking hands.</div> <div> "For what?" Quentin asked, surprised.</div> <div> Adam shook his head, embarrassed.  "Have a good, safe trip."  He looked at Quentin and added significantly, "I hope I will see you both again soon-with Daniel?"</div> <div> "I hope so," Quentin agreed.  He was determined to check into it-give it a go.  If he could manage business away from Collinsport then why not?  He felt Maggie's arm go around his waist, and he pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head.  They watched Adam and Jennifer walk back to the Galaxy.  Jennifer got behind the wheel.  They waved until the car was out of sight.</div> <div> "I hope he'll be all right," Maggie worried.</div> <div> "Me, too," Quentin agreed.  He thought he'd try out the idea on Maggie while it was still fresh in his mind.  "Maggie?  What would you think about living in Boston?  Or Long Island?"</div> <div> Maggie looked at him, wide-eyed with surprise.  "What do you mean?"</div> <div> "I mean, you, me and Daniel."</div> <div> Maggie felt confused.  She knew he owned Collinwood, owned the businesses and the properties.  Why was he asking her this?  "I-I don't know," she stammered.</div> <div> He frowned.  Did she really want to live in that palace so badly?</div> <div> Seeing his frown, Maggie began to panic.  "Quentin, I want to live wherever you want to," she assured him.  "Is it because you think I can't manage Collinwood?"</div> <div> "No!" he exclaimed, shocked.  That had never occurred to him.  Looking at her, he wondered if she believed that was why he mentioned it the idea of moving.  How could she think that?  He didn't want to distress her.  Kissing the top of her head, he said, "Forget it.  It's probably just a silly idea."  He thought he'd wait and bring it up again later-in Boston.  He'd wait until they'd been with Aunt Nancy a day and she could see how nice his aunt really was.</div> <div> Maggie put her hand into his jacket pocket, feeling her stomach lurch and heave with anxiety.  Why had he asked her that question?  Maybe now that they were returning, he was realizing just how inexperienced and perhaps incompetent she might be at running a large household.  She felt a spasm of fear.  How could she run such a large household?  She'd never done anything like it before in her life! For the first time since the wedding, she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.</div> <bR> <div> Maggie was still pale and abnormally quiet after they got off the ferry in New London so Quentin held her hand in his lap as they drove the final hour or so to Boston.  It seemed to reassure her because she became more animated and began to talk again.  He was relieved.  He wanted to tell her about Collinwood, but he didn't want to scare her or overwhelm her with the truth all at once.  He thought it would be better to tell her the story in pieces.  It was different talking to Adam somehow.  It had been a relief to unburden himself to Adam; it had been a relief to have his understanding and empathy.  "It was good to see Adam again," he commented.</div> <div> "Yes, I like him.  I hope he's all right."</div> <div> "We'll call from Aunt Nancy's.  Oh-and it was good to see your sister, too.  Even old cold Dan."  </div> <div> Maggie laughed.   "Wait until I tell Jenny what you called her husband."</div> <div> "It'd be nice to see them more often-you know, family," he began.</div> <div> Maggie looked at him, wondering where he was going with this.  "Family is important," she agreed.  Then she added, "I'm looking forward to seeing all of your family, too, darling."  His expression clouded and she knew immediately that she'd said the wrong thing.  She didn't understand why, though.  She squeezed his hand and was reassured when he squeezed back.  She didn't say anything else about his family, and he stopped talking about Adam and Jennifer.</div> <div> Quentin was thinking that driving a rented car back to Collinsport would be a contrast to how he, his mother, and brother had arrived in Collinsport.  They'd flown from Boston to Bangor in Jamison Collins' private plane.  From their airport, a limousine had taken them to the huge mansion called Collinwood.  They'd been overwhelmed by all the luxury then; he'd gotten used to it and it seemed jaded and almost decadent now.  Sometimes he just wanted to be "ordinary folks" again-like Adam.</div> <div> Circumstances had changed for his Aunt Nancy, too, he thought as he pulled the Volvo into the driveway of her grand home on Beacon Hill.  Uncle Frank died while Quentin was at Stonybrook.  The official story was that he'd had a heart attack but unofficially and the real story was that it was acute alcoholism that killed him.   There were a lot of drinkers in the family, Quentin reflected.  Even Paul Talbot, Aunt Nancy's second husband, illustrious corporate attorney, had been a heavy drinker.  The official story about his death last year was a massive stroke.  Quentin thought he probably drank himself to death too.   As for himself, he noticed early on that he'd seemed to have an amazing capacity for liquor.  His tolerance for it seemed to be decreasing, though, and he thought that maybe he should give it up altogether under the circumstances.</div> <div> They got out of the car, and Quentin put his arm around Maggie affectionately and walked her to Aunt Nancy's door.  She opened the door herself.  "Quentin and Maggie, my dears!" she exclaimed, turning to Quentin first and giving him a hard hug.  She was gentler with Maggie.  Although she had her own four children, she still treated Quentin as if he belonged to her as well.  "How was your trip?" she asked pleasantly, drawing them in.  It would be a good visit, Quentin thought happily.</div> <div> The first night in Boston was relaxing as Quentin, Maggie, and Nancy caught up with news of the family and local gossip.  After checking to make sure Adam was all right, Quentin called Daniel again, who sounded whiny and wondered when his father was coming home.  "Soon," Quentin assured him.  Daniel's mood didn't dampen his own, or his ardor either, for Maggie as soon as they were alone in the guestroom.  He felt playful and tickled and teased Maggie mercilessly.  "Quentin!  She'll hear us!"</div> <div> "Good!  This will get her back for all the times I had to listen to her!" Quentin said, climbing onto her as they play wrestled.</div> <div> "Quentin!" Maggie burst out into gales of laughter.  "No! You're joking!"</div> <div> "I'll show you who's joking," he said, grabbing her and rolling with her on the bed.  She shrieked like a child, as she felt them about to go over the side; Quentin stopped in mid-roll, and went the other way instead.  "Besides," he whispered into her ear in a lustful voice, "she's got good manners.  She'd never say a word."  Then he nibbled on her ear lobe.  That was enough for Maggie, although she wouldn't cry out in passion.  He could tell she wanted to and was holding back.  He felt immensely satisfied and very happy.</div> <div> The following day, Aunt Nancy had all the relatives within driving distance come over to visit.  That was a little overwhelming.  The large house was crammed full of adults and children, and they were all very noisy.  Children ran through the house, playing tag and screaming.  Franky, Mary, and her husband Patsy monopolized the bar, although some of the other relatives were quickly running through the liquor as well.  Quentin limited himself to a beer, noticing that Maggie wanted only a soda.  "You won't pass the family test that way," he chided her kiddingly.</div> <div> "Test?  Should I put this back?" she asked, suddenly uneasy.</div> <div> "No, Maggie, I was just kidding," he answered, feeling irritated with himself for making such a joke.</div> <div> Maggie saw him frown and thought perhaps she should have tried a mixed drink after all.  She jumped at the sound of a crash.  Patsy had knocked a bottle off the bar; it had fallen and smashed on the floor.  He was very red in the face, and he was shouting at Mary.  "Who are you to tell me I've had enough, ye lush?" he yelled.</div> <div> "You're blind drunk!" Mary yelled back.</div> <div> "The hell ye say!"  Patsy advanced on Mary, who retreated behind her brother.</div> <div> "Shit, there goes Dad again!" one of the grown up sons called to his brother.  They looked like they were about eighteen or nineteen.  They pushed past Quentin and Maggie to get to their father.</div> <div> "Get away now, Pat!" Franky was warning him.</div> <div> Quentin turned to Maggie and took her hand.  "Come on."</div> <div> "Where?" She looked pale and frightened.</div> <div> "Let's go for a walk.   Come on-quick!"  Holding her hand, they made their way quickly through the gathering crowd, out the door, and onto the street.  Half walking, half running, they went down the driveway to the street.  "Come on, want to see the house where I grew up?"</div> <div> "Is it close to here?" Maggie asked, beginning to regain some of her color.  The scene they'd just escaped was too much like Mama and Pop for her comfort.</div> <div> "South Boston."</div> <div> Maggie had no idea where that was but she trusted Quentin and kept pace with him.  "We're not going to drive?"</div> <div> "No, let's walk.  We can take the subway."  He held his hand out to her.  "You know what, Maggie, this is like a little town all its own.  Everything you need is right here-restaurants, grocery stores, antique shops…Boston Common's just down the street.  Let's walk there."</div> <div> "This is all so beautiful.  The townhouses-they're old, aren't they?  They date back to the Revolution?"</div> <div> "No," Quentin said, amused.  "It was all pastureland then. Most of the townhouses here were built in the late 1800s."</div> <div> "Oh!" Maggie exclaimed, blushing.  She felt ignorant.  "They are beautiful houses."</div> <div> Quentin held her hand and held it as they strolled past Boston Common. He told her some other things about Beacon Hill, and she just listened to the sound of his voice.  It all seemed so fine to Maggie.  They went to the subway station.  "Do you remember the song about the man stuck on the subway train?"  Maggie shook her head, and he sang some of the words to her, "He'll never return, no he'll never return and his fate is still unlearned-poor old Charlie!  He will ride forever `neath the streets of Boston, he's the man who never returned!"</div> <div> Maggie laughed with delight.  "I remember that song now!  I always thought it was so funny, but I never understood why that man was on the subway and his wife had to keep throwing him sandwiches!"</div> <div> "It was a protest song-about the raise in the fares," Quentin explained.  They got on the subway together, and he took her to the neighborhood he'd first lived in.  They walked down the street together, arms around each other.  Maggie was thinking that she liked the look of this neighborhood-she felt comfortable here.  "This is it," Quentin said softly, and they stopped to look at the house.</div> <div> For Maggie, it was just a house in not so fine shape.  The people living there now weren't taking good care of it.  Quentin was seeing a different house.  He thought he could see Gabriel in their old room upstairs, looking down at them.  "Come in the yard, Buddy, show her around."  Quentin took Maggie's hand again.  "Let's look around a little.  Maybe no one's home."</div> <div> "All right," Maggie agreed, seeming to understand Quentin's need to revisit his childhood home.  They walked around the back, and Quentin went straight to the tree, looking up.  Remnants of the treehouse were left, but most of it had rotted away long ago.  "Yours?" Maggie asked.</div> <div> "Yeah-and Gabriel's," Quentin answered thickly.  He remembered the day he and Gabriel sat up here together-that was just after Cousin David's first visit.  His brother had told him the truth about their mother and his father.  The very last time they sat up here together was the morning that they left the house for good.  The move had taken place about a month after David Collins' first visit.  There were three others after that.</div> <div> Quentin understood that Jamison Collins wanted him to come to Collinsport very badly but apparently did not want his mother or brother.  He was more angry than frightened-his mother had made it very clear that she would not allow that to happen.  After the second meeting, David Collins came back a third time with another offer: Jamison Collins would gladly allow Mrs. Kiernan to come with her son if she would agree to his participation in Quentin's rearing and education.  Gabriel Kiernan was to stay in Boston with his other family members, or he could go to a private boarding school.  "Tell him to take his offer and stuff it where the sun doesn't shine," his mother snapped in a crude, angry voice.  She'd had a couple of Uncle Frank's shots of whiskey to help fortify herself.  David Collins went away looking chastened but undefeated.</div> <div> Sure enough, he came back again with yet another offer.  This time, the little family would remain intact.  Mother and both sons would come to Collinwood; the stipulation remained that Jamison would be involved in raising and educating Quentin.  All of their needs would be met, no matter what the cost.  Jamison agreed to pay for Gabriel's college education, too, at the school of his choice (or whichever one accepted him; Gabriel was not a particularly gifted student).  "I need to think," Helen muttered this time, holding her head in her hands.  She sent the boys away and asked Nancy and Frank to stay and talk to her.  She and Frank finished off an entire bottle of whiskey, talking into the late hours of the night.</div> <div> The next thing Quentin knew, he was packing his best clothes and toys.  Gabriel was sulky and very angry.  It was obvious he did not want to return to Collinsport.  Quentin was scared-now he was going to meet this awful, selfish old man who had developed such an inexplicable interest in him.  His mother was different, now, too.  Her shoulders seemed to droop with fatigue.  She'd always enjoyed what she called a "wee nip" in the evening.  Her "wee nips" were becoming larger and more numerous as the time drew nearer for their move to Collinsport.  Aunt Nancy just seemed resigned and sad.  She didn't remonstrate with Uncle Frank or Helen anymore for their drinking, and that was very different.</div> <div> Quentin turned to Gabriel, seeking comfort.  "What's wrong with everybody?  What's the matter with Ma?  Why is she so sad all the time now?"</div> <div> "She wants to do her best by us, she just don't like the method," Gabriel answered.  They were on the bed up in the room they shared with Franky.  He was at the movies with friends.  Gabriel moodily tried to shape his baseball glove by smacking a hardball into it with his hand. </div> <div> "What method?  You mean us moving?"</div> <div> "Yeah-she don't like it.  Neither do I."</div> <div> "I don't either.  Why are we doing it?"</div> <div> "She says cause she wants us to have nice clothes and a college education.  She says we won't get that without that old man's money."</div> <div> "So?  I don't care about college."</div> <div> Gabriel shook his head.  "I don't either, but you don't understand how moms think yet.  She thinks she's doing something to help us.  That's the way moms are."</div> <div> "Gabe, I'm scared.  I don't want to go live with that mean old man."</div> <div> Gabriel put the glove down and moved so that he could put his arm around his little brother.  He ruffled Quentin's hair.  "Don't be scared of that old man.  He ain't nobody special-he just thinks he is because he's got so much money.  I'll be there, Buddy.  Don't be scared, you hear?"</div> <div> "All right," Quentin said, leaning against his brother.  He did feel better.  He wouldn't be alone-Gabriel would be there, and Ma…</div> <div> This was the very first time Quentin had been in an airplane, and he couldn't help but be excited in spite of his mother's gloom and his brother's stormy expression.  Cousin David had come down to escort them back to Collinsport, and Quentin found it hard to dislike him as much as his mother and Gabriel seemed to.  David had engaged Quentin in conversation after the excitement of the take-off had worn off, asking about the sports he liked to play and how much he liked school.  "I'm glad you like school, Quentin.  You seem to be a very bright young man.  When you grow up, you can do a lot with yourself."</div> <div> "What do you do?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "I'm an attorney," David said, sounding proud of himself.  "You know, I have two little boys that you can play with."</div> <div> Gabriel looked over but didn't say anything.  Quentin, though, was interested.  "Are they the same age as me?  Or older?"</div> <div> "Well, one is a little older and one is a little younger.  Their names are Chris and Tommy."</div> <div> "How much older and how much younger?"</div> <div> "Well, Chris is eight and Tommy is six."</div> <div> This was new, too-he would have playmates in the house his own age.  This didn't seem so bad after all.  There was a limousine waiting for them at the airport in Bangor.  Gabriel made his face look as if he was bored, but Quentin could tell that his brother was just as impressed as he was.  Their mother just looked resigned.  She accepted the drink that Cousin David offered her, and had finished three by the time they arrived at Collinwood.</div> <div> As they pulled up in front of the huge, imposing mansion, Quentin felt his eyes pop.  He'd never seen anything so big-not even a museum.  His mother asked nervously, "Is Jamison Collins at home?"</div> <div> "No, I'm afraid he's not.  He'll be at the cannery until close of business," Cousin David said briskly.  "He left instructions for your suite-Mrs. Johnson will tend to any needs you have until he gets home."</div> <div> "Sarah?" Helen asked faintly.</div> <div> "Yes," David answered in an off-handed, distracted manner.  "I think that is her first name."  They all got out of the car.  Quentin and Gabriel went to retrieve their bags, but Cousin David said: "No, you don't have to be bothered with that-Mr. Morgan will take care of that."  He led them into the house.  Quentin was awed-everything was extraordinarily large and fine.  Gabriel had his hands thrust deeply into his pockets and his mother just twisted her fingers, looking pale.</div> <div> A young woman in a severe looking black dress came out and greeted Cousin David, who handed her his coat and hat.  The woman and Quentin's mother exchanged glances and looked quickly away.  "Mrs. Johnson, would you take the Kiernans to their suite?  Get them whatever they need to make them comfortable.   Is Cook preparing for dinner?"</div> <div> "She's roasting a turkey," Mrs. Johnson answered.  </div> <div> Cousin David nodded.  He said pleasantly, "If you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to do in my study.  Mrs. Johnson will show you to your rooms.  I'll see you in a few hours."</div> <div> "Cousin David," Quentin began, and the man turned back, obviously surprised.  "Where are your boys?"</div> <div> "Ah-they're with the governess, Miss Peterson.  You'll meet her soon enough-and the boys, too."  He looked toward Mrs. Johnson expectantly.</div> <div> "Let me show you to your rooms," she said automatically.  Cousin David turned and walked away.  Mrs. Johnson led them up the stairs.  "It's been a long time," she said softly.</div> <div> "I never thought I'd walk through these doors again," Helen murmured, obviously still ill at ease.  They followed Mrs. Johnson down a long hallway and turned down a corridor.  "The West Wing again, I see."  Helen's voice had a slightly mocking tone, and Mrs. Johnson half turned and smiled.</div> <div> "Some of the family have suites in the East wing; some are in the central part of the house."</div> <div> "How many people live here?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Just family, you mean, or including the servants?" Mrs. Johnson asked.</div> <div> He didn't answer, surprised.  It sounded like there were a <I>lot</I> of people living here.  She finally stopped before a room and opened it.  The door opened onto a large living room.  "This is your sitting room," she began.  "I'll show you the bedroom suites."</div> <div> "Sarah," Helen said softly.  Mrs. Johnson turned and looked at her.  Suddenly, the two women embraced each other.  Quentin realized his mother was crying and was alarmed.  Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist and led him off as their mother said, "I'm so glad you're here.  I thought I'd be all alone."</div> <div> "Let's see our rooms," Gabriel said.</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson was saying:  "You know we can't be friends like this downstairs."</div> <div> Gabriel had opened one of the other doors and looked in.  It was a bedroom, plainly furnished but larger and more comfortable than any Quentin had seen.  "Why can't they be friends?" he asked his brother.</div> <div> "Because Mrs. Johnson is a servant and Ma isn't anymore," Gabriel answered.  "Rich people aren't friends with their servants, Buddy."</div> <div> "Do you know her?"</div> <div> "I think so.  I think she was here before."  Gabriel sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down on it.  "I wonder how many bedrooms are in here.  This is kind of like a hotel, isn't it?"</div> <div> "I don't know."</div> <div> Gabriel laughed.  "No, I guess you don't.  That's what `suite' means.  It means there's a living room and bedrooms, too.  We could all just stay in here if we wanted to-except we'd have to come out to eat."</div> <div> "Or pee."</div> <div> Gabriel burst out laughing.  "Maybe not.  There might be a bathroom in here."  He became serious.  "Don't say `pee' in front of the other folks here, Quentin.  Say `urinate' or `bathroom'.  You hafta be polite here."</div> <div> "What's a governess?"</div> <div> "Kinda like a teacher.  I guess the kids here don't go to the public school."</div> <div> That sounded like fun, Quentin thought-no school.  Being rich would be fun, he thought.  After a while, their mother came to the door.  "What do you think?" she asked.</div> <div> "It's nice, ma!" Quentin said enthusiastically.</div> <div> "What do <I>you</I> think, Ma?" Gabriel asked.</div> <div> "It's nicer than where we stayed before-we've all got bedrooms here."</div> <div> "We do?  All of us?"</div> <div> "Sure-do you want to see?"</div> <div> "Who gets this one?"</div> <div> "I think you might like it, Gabe-it'll give you a little privacy.  The other two are on the other side of the sitting room."</div> <div> "You ought to have the privacy, ma, you take this one," Gabe offered.</div> <div> "Well, why don't we look and see."</div> <div> The other two rooms looked almost the same but were smaller, so Gabe insisted his mother take the larger room.  Quentin was busy inspecting the room that was to be his.  It was unbelievable.  A room of his very own!  Helen thought she wanted to lie down and rest for a while, but first she wanted to explain to the boys about the family living in this house.</div> <div> "There's Jamison Collins, he's the head of the family," Helen began.  "He owns the family business and everything here, including the furniture you're sitting on.  Quentin, he's your cousin, honey.  He's second cousin to your daddy."  Quentin didn't understand what a second cousin was but listened anyway.  "He has a grown up daughter and a grown up son living here, Elizabeth and Roger.  Elizabeth has two little girls, Vicki and Carolyn."</div> <div> "Who's that guy, David?" Gabriel asked.</div> <div> "He's another cousin, from a different branch.  He's another second cousin of Jamison's," Helen answered.  "This place is crawling with cousins."</div> <div> "Didn't they have enough around without having to come look for Quentin, too?" Gabriel asked.</div> <div> "Sarah was starting to tell me about it, but she was called away.  I mean, Mrs. Johnson.  I guess we'll meet everyone soon enough."  Their mother sounded nervous.  She got up and began to pace.  "Why don't you boys go get settled in your rooms?  You can decide who wants what room.  I think I need to lie down for a little while."</div> <div> Their mother was still sleeping when Mrs. Johnson came and knocked at the door.  "Mr. Collins would like to see you all in the drawing room," she told Gabriel when he answered the door.  She tried to peer around him into the room.  "Where's your mother?"</div> <div> "She's resting," Gabriel explained.  "I'll go wake her up, and then we'll come down."</div> <div> "All right-I'll wait.  Mr. Collins wants me to bring you down."</div> <div> Gabriel rolled his eyes.  He went to their mother's door and knocked.  Mrs. Johnson and Quentin looked at each other.  He thought she looked stern-a little like Aunt Nancy, but he had a feeling she didn't laugh much.  "I hope you're a quiet little boy and not like Mr. David's two boys," she said finally.  Quentin didn't know how to respond to that.  "I have a little boy, too.  He's much younger than you are, though-he's just a baby, like Carolyn."</div> <div> "Mrs. Johnson?" Gabriel said from the doorway.  He looked upset.  "My mom's not feeling well."</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson frowned.  "Not feeling well?  What's wrong?"  She started toward the bedroom.</div> <div> "I don't think you ought to go in," Gabriel objected, becoming distressed.  Quentin felt it immediately: something was wrong with Ma.  He felt frightened and pushed past Mrs. Johnson.  His brother tried to grab him but he maneuvered around him and ran into the bedroom.  </div> <div> "Ma?"  His mother was on the bed moving restlessly, her arm dangling off the side.  Her fingertips were nearly on the floor.  Quentin followed her arm down and saw an empty bottle lying on the floor.  "Ma?"</div> <div> "Quentin? Go wa' Mama's ti-yerd."  Her voice sounded very strange.</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson was standing in the doorway, shocked.  "Landsakes, Helen, what've you gone and done?"</div> <div> "She's just not feeling well," Gabriel said desperately.  "This whole trip was too much for her-it just about wore her out."</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson looked at him with asperity.  She almost said something but then changed her mind.  She went to Helen's side.  Quentin was trying to rouse his mother.  He was scared-he couldn't understand what was wrong with her.  "Child, go sit down with your brother," Mrs. Johnson said, sounding kind.  He looked at her and saw that her eyes were filled with pity.  She took him by the shoulders and moved him to the door.  "Take him," she said to Gabriel.  She shut the door behind the two boys.</div> <div> "What's wrong with Ma?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "She's sleeping-she's real tired and-and-" Gabriel broke off.  "Come on, sit down."  They sat together on the sofa.  Gabriel put his head in his hands.  He looked scared, which frightened Quentin further.</div> <div> "Is she sick?  Is she going to die?"</div> <div> "No!  No, she's not gonna-she's just gonna wish she had."</div> <div> "Why?"</div> <div> "Do you remember how Uncle Franky gets in the mornings sometimes, Buddy?"</div> <div> Quentin thought.  He did remember.  Many mornings, more often than not, his Uncle Frank would sit at the table pasty-faced and trembling, complaining of a headache and that the light hurt his eyes.  He would say he wanted "a little hair of the dog."  Aunt Nancy would say that was what had gotten him into the fix he was in the first place, and he would moan and ask her to have pity on him and not talk so loud.  "She needs a `hair of the dog'?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> Gabriel looked at him and suddenly brayed with hysterical laughter.  "No, no!  That's what got her into the fix she's in the first place!" he exclaimed and then howled, doubled over with laughter.  Quentin was amazed.</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson came out of the room, holding the empty bottle.  "Good Lord, child, where did she get this?" she demanded.</div> <div> "I don't know, Mrs. Johnson, she's always seemed to got one somewhere," Gabriel managed to answer, his eyes beginning to stream with tears.</div> <div> "Have you lost your mind?" Mrs. Johnson asked, goggling at him.  "Mr. Collins expects you all to come downstairs and say hello, and your mother is lying in there dead drunk.  And you are laughing about it?  What's Mr. Collins going to say?"</div> <div> "We're going to say she's sick," Gabriel announced, suddenly very serious.  "And she is, really, Mrs. Johnson.  She was scared to come here."</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson stared at him a moment longer, and then her expression softened.  Her shocked expression changed to one of compassion.  "I shouldn't wonder," she murmured.  "You are just a little boy yourself-are you up to this?"</div> <div> "I'm not a little boy, ma'am, I'm a man," Gabriel objected.  "And I can be up to anything I have to be, and so can he."  He indicated Quentin, who nodded his head in agreement.  In reality, Quentin had no idea what all this was about.  He was disturbed to hear Mrs. Johnson say that his mother was "dead drunk".  That had never happened before.</div> <div> "Are you sure?" Mrs. Johnson asked doubtfully.  "I can tell Mr. Collins that you're all-"</div> <div> "It's all right," Gabriel cut in, standing up.  "We'll be fine.  We'll just tell him that my mom's sick, that's all."</div> <div> "All right-clean up quick and I'll take you down."  A look of admiration was on her face now, mixed with the pity and compassion.</div> <div> Gabriel helped Quentin make himself presentable.  He combed his own hair, smoothing it down in places.  When they were ready to go, he whispered to Quentin, "Now, remember, don't you never let that man know if he scares you.  You hold your head up.  I'll take care of you, okay?"  Quentin nodded.  He held his head up.  He could be brave-Gabriel would protect him and keep him safe.</div> <bR> <div> Gabriel gave Quentin a thumbs up as they followed their cousin Jamison down the hall to the large dining room.   The interview had begun awkwardly, with Jamison being very annoyed that Helen was sick.  He was an attractive older man with a mane of silver hair, tall and broad shouldered.  He had a stern air about him and stared at Gabriel coldly.  Gabriel, however, stood up to him politely and refused to be cowed.  Quentin could tell, though, that his brother was at least a little scared.  He felt scared too, but he wasn't going to let this man see it.  Jamison continued to glare at the boys, but Quentin could see his eyes thawing just a bit.  In fact, when he looked at Quentin, there was even some warmth there.  He asked them some questions about their schooling and the sports they liked to play and then gruffly told them to come along with him to supper.</div> <div> The formal dining room had a long table, and it seemed there was someone at every seat.  There was a large crystal chandelier over the table; it dazzled Quentin's eyes.  He'd never seen anything so beautiful before.  It looked like those pictures of shiny cave stalactites he'd seen in one of Gabe's nature magazines.  He was relieved to see Cousin David's two boys at the table; they were looking at he and his brother with frank curiosity.  The adults seated around the table also were looking at them.  Only Cousin David and the woman sitting next to him were smiling in a friendly way.</div> <div> "All right family, this is Gabriel Kiernan-in case you've forgotten," Jamison began sternly, "and this is Quentin.  Boys, you sit on either side of me. "Gabriel and Quentin went to their places on either side of the table.  There was one other place down near the end of the table, and Quentin wondered if Jamison had really meant to put their mother way down there.  Before he sat down, Jamison pulled on a velvet cord.  Then he introduced them to the members of the family sitting there.  There were a lot of names to remember-David, Rose, Chris, Tommy, Nora Pearson (who about as old as Jamison), Claudia Collins, Elizabeth and Vicki Stoddard, and Roger Collins.  Vicki Stoddard was a pretty, dark haired girl with dark eyes, who smiled shyly.  She was older than Quentin was, but younger than Gabriel.</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson came in and served them all.  He couldn't be sure what food had been served him because it was the most uncomfortable meal Quentin had ever sat through.  He realized that almost everyone was staring at him and he fumbled with his fork, blushing, determined not to make any mistakes.  Some of the people looking at him seemed angry, which confused him.  Claudia Collins started at him with no expression at all on her face.  She was old, but not as old as Jamison and Nora.  Quentin wondered who she was.  "So, what happened to Helen, Father?  Where is she?" Elizabeth asked.  Her voice sounded sweet but she was one of the people who'd looked at Quentin with some anger in her eyes.</div> <div> "She's ill," Jamison answered shortly and abruptly changed the subject.  He began to talk to Cousin David about things Quentin knew nothing about-the shipyard, the cannery, and "the catch".  Quentin quickly got bored.  No one else spoke, though.  He looked up at Gabe, who looked back impassively and then slowly winked.  This was not like home at all, when all the cousins talked at once and the grown-ups practically had to shout to be heard.   When the children were done eating, they were excused immediately so they could go and play.  In this place, though, Quentin watched as Vicki, Chris, and Tommy set their utensils down after eating and sat quietly.</div> <div> After an interminable length of time, Jamison finally dismissed the children, and they got up and left quietly.  The boys sized each other up without speaking.  "So, you're the bastard?" Chris finally said.</div> <div> There was something about the way he said the word that made it sound dirty.  "I am not!" Quentin objected.</div> <div> "Hey, you squirt!" Gabriel added.  "Mind your manners!"</div> <div> Gabriel's size intimidated Chris, and he backed down immediately.   Tommy said, "It's not his fault.  That's what Cousin Roger says."</div> <div> "You don't have to repeat everything you hear, do you?"  Gabriel demanded.  "That seems kind of stupid."</div> <div> "He's right," Vicki agreed.  She looked at her two cousins sternly.  Then she looked at Quentin with interest.  "How old are you?"</div> <div> "Seven."</div> <div> "I'm older, but we're the same.  We're both-" She stopped abruptly.  "I'm going to be ten.  I have a baby sister, named Carolyn.  She's with the nanny.  You can play with us, if you want."</div> <div> Chris immediately objected.  "Vicki, Roger said-"</div> <div> "You always have to listen to what this guy says?" Gabriel demanded.</div> <div> "I don't even like him.  He's mean," said Tommy.  "You want to play kickball?"  It was a tentative beginning to an on again off again friendship with these new cousins.  There were other cousins as well, called the Rose Cottage cousins, and they came to Collinwood for lessons with the governess.   They went home for dinner and then sometimes came back to play, Tommy explained.  This was one of those nights, and Quentin met three more of the children, two girls and another boy.  There were so many, he couldn't remember their names anymore.</div> <div> When they were called in for the evening, Gabriel and Quentin returned to their rooms quietly.  Their mother was still sleeping.  "Good night, Buddy," Gabriel said softly.  Quentin put his pajamas on and looked around the room.  It was all his, but it no longer appealed to him.  He went next door to his brother's room.  Gabriel didn't seem surprised.  "What's the matter?"</div> <div> "I'm lonely," Quentin said.</div> <div> "You're going to have to get used to it, Buddy," Gabriel answered, but he pulled the covers back on his bed.  "Come on, get in."  Quentin climbed onto the bed gratefully.  "Look, this is the first night so I know you're scared.  But we live here, now, and you got to be brave and not let anybody know you're scared."</div> <div> "I will," Quentin promised, moving closer to his brother so that he could touch him.  If he could touch Gabriel, he was still real even though the room was dark.  "Gabriel?  What's a bastard?"</div> <div> Gabriel sighed.  "Listen, Quentin, you might hear that name a lot.  I don't know.  It means a kid whose parents didn't get married."</div> <div> "Me?"</div> <div> "Well, yeah, but it's not a very nice name.  I think people will call you that to be mean, but don't you listen to them, you hear?" Gabriel said fiercely.  "Remember what I told you, Quentin.  It was like they were really married, you hear?"</div> <div> "Yes," Quentin answered.  He felt slightly disturbed.  He didn't like the name.  He was feeling sleepy, though, and so he closed his eyes, snuggling a little closer to his brother.  Gabriel draped a protective arm around him, and Quentin fell asleep.</div> <bR> <div> "Quentin?" Maggie asked, her voice full of concern.  Quentin looked at her, dully.  "Are you all right?  You were just staring up at the treehouse-"</div> <div> "No one goes up there anymore, I guess," he answered, looking away and trying to cover up his feelings of disorientation.  He thought he heard Gabriel say, "Talk to her, Buddy, she understands this."  He shook his head.  "We should go back."</div> <div> "All right."  Maggie smiled, but she was worried.  During the entire time they'd been away, he hadn't had a single moody spell.  Now that they were back and as they got closer and closer to Collinwood, his spirits seemed to be sinking lower and lower.  He would rouse himself and behave normally, but then he would spiral down again.  Maggie wished she knew why.  Was it her?  Maybe he was realizing that she wouldn't fit in after all and didn't know how to tell her.  She was a little worried about going to Aunt Nancy's, too, but she was afraid to tell him why.  Maybe he would think that she was silly to have been so upset about Mama and Pop's drinking and fighting.</div> <div> To her surprise, Quentin smiled and said, "I think they'll all be gone by the time we get back."</div> <div> They got back on the subway and went back, walking back to Aunt Nancy's house.  Most of the relatives had cleared out, including the battling Mary and Patsy.  Maggie felt relieved that they were gone.  The remaining relatives were older and more sedate; they seemed very kind.  "Sorry we were gone so long," Quentin apologized easily, leading Maggie back into the sitting room.  "We went visiting old haunts and sort of got carried away."</div> <div> "Ah, sure, we know about that kind of thing, young man," said Cousin Joe, Nancy's brother.  He had a round jolly face and a bright red rose.  He was able to hold his liquor-if he was drunk at all, Maggie thought.  Everyone laughed.</div> <div> "You did have a phone call, honey," Aunt Nancy said.  She moved to Quentin's side and passed him a slip of paper.  "Why don't you go into the study, dear, and call?  It seemed important."  She turned to Maggie and took her arm.  "Come and sit by me, Maggie, dear.  Did you bring back any pictures we could see?"</div> <div> "Oh!  Yes, we do have many of them back," Maggie answered, feeling as if she was being enfolded by everyone's love and acceptance.  They approved of her, she thought, with immense gratitude.  "Let me go and get the albums we brought!"  She went out into the hall and heard Quentin's voice in the study.  She found herself listening.  She couldn't make out the words, but she could tell something was wrong.  Oh, dear, she thought, going up the stairs.  I hope it's not bad news about Adam.</div> <bR> <div> Quentin didn't recognize the name of the woman he was calling-Margaret Bailey.  The woman who answered the phone had a clipped, efficient voice.  It was Margaret Bailey, and he identified himself.</div> <div> "Yes, Mr. Collins.  Mr. Peterson told me I was to call you if he didn't come in to the office today."</div> <div> Quentin felt momentarily confused.  "Mr. Peterson?  Why?"</div> <div> The woman cleared her throat uncomfortably.  "I wish I knew, Mr. Collins.  Perhaps I'd better explain.  I am Mr. Peterson's secretary.  Mr. Peterson had an appointment to meet with someone after hours, and before he left the office he gave me these instructions."</div> <div> Quentin half-smiled, thinking that would be like the ever-cautious Tony.  He was another old buddy from Stonybrook, who couldn't pass the bar.  He became a private investigator instead.  Quentin encouraged him to come to the Collinsport area because he needed someone he could trust working with him.  He consulted Tony on a lot of the contracts and business deals Chris proposed-Quentin and Chris had reached a truce of sorts, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.  Tony also did background checks on employees and kept tabs on Roger's activities.  Quentin kept him busy, and no one else knew he was on the payroll.  "Is there a problem, then?  You say he didn't come in today?"</div> <div> "No, and that's unusual, Mr. Collins.  He didn't call, either."</div> <div> Quentin felt uneasy.  Tony specifically wanted his secretary to call if he didn't come to work-it must have been because he was afraid that something might happen to him.  He knew the meeting Margaret Bailey was talking about was supposed to be with the man who'd been seen with Claude North.  "Who was Mr. Peterson supposed to see?"</div> <div> "That is another unfortunate thing, Mr. Collins.  He always writes down the names of the people he is meeting.  He didn't do it this time.  He's only got the time marked in his calendar."</div> <div> Shit!  Quentin thought.  This was worse.  He thought.  He knew where Tony lived and decided he and Maggie better go back to Collinsport.  He'd go to Tony's house and see if he could find the name of the man who'd been seen with Claude North.  His feelings of misgivings deepened.  "Look, Mrs. Bailey, thanks for calling me with this.  I'll see what I can do from here.  Have you, uh…" He paused, wondering if he should ask.</div> <div> Mrs. Bailey was efficient.  She seemed to know what Quentin's question was, because she answered:  "I'm not to call the sheriff unless he's been missing for seventy-two hours.  It's not quite that yet."</div> <div> "Thank you, Mrs. Bailey.  I'll probably see you very soon."</div> <div> "Thank you, Mr. Collins."</div> <div> Quentin sat looking at the phone for a long time after he'd hung up.  There was brandy here in the study, and he got up to pour himself a glass.  Then he called Collinwood to let the family know that he and Maggie would be returning tonight.  He didn't want to do it; he wanted to stay here with Maggie.  He had to find out what happened to Tony, though.</div> <div> Maggie came in.  "What's wrong, darling?"</div> <div> He faced her, his face dark and thunderous.  "We need to go back to Collinsport."</div> <div> "Did something happen?"</div> <div> "I don't know," he answered truthfully.  "I wish we'd stayed away longer, though."</div> <div> Maggie thought it might have to do with the family business.  "We can if you want to, Quentin."</div> <div> "No-we have to go back, tonight.  I need to tell Aunt Nancy."  His features were set and determined, his voice harsh.  Maggie wondered what it was that was making him so angry; Quentin was trying to quell the churning conflicting feels of emotions roiling around inside.</div> <div> Where was Tony Peterson?  Deeper than that, another question was gnawing at him: now that he was going back, would he ever be able to escape from Collinwood?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id99.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Quentin"><U>Puzzle Pieces:  Quentin</U></A>    <A HREF="id102.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Vortex"><U>Vortex</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Adam in Parallel Time"><U>Adam in Parallel Time</U></A>     <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>