Conemaugh

7.

The strange meeting of the morning with Liam and then the presentation by Carter of his prize did nothing to dim the anxiety that consumed Quinn. He followed Rachel back to their guest suites in the hotel of the clubhouse, arms tight across his chest just trying to think of nothing.

"What is the matter with you!" Rachel suddenly rounded on him in anger and confusion.

Quinn could tell that Clark's presentation of his trinket and the implication of the wedding being a stand-in showcase for it had deeply affected her. He knew she did not see a younger brother in the throws of mental torment, but a hanger-on whose irregular behavior she had to manage.

"I don't know what you are trying to accomplish with these odd moods of confrontation, or the strange situations you are engineering to draw attention to yourself, but you will stop immediately! Do you understand me Quinn?"

"Don't worry, Rachel," he said in a weary voice. "I think Clark rather enjoys having me around." He was to tired and distracted to put the inflection into the words that he wanted to. They came out sounding flat and unconcerned.

"Quinn, this is not a game," Rachel hissed through her teeth. "Our situation is precarious. You know we have nothing without Mr. Singleton."

Quinn knew. How could he not? A doting father had wasted away to his own demise after their mother was taken in an accident. Rachel and Quinn had been left with no home and nothing of their own. The siblings had stayed with a series of relatives and what little their father had left them after his death went to debts or into other pockets. The older sister had striven for several years now to find a decent situation in acquiring a husband, rightfully apprehensive that her painfully shy, socially awkward brother could literally not live without her. His retiring nature bordered on agoraphobia.

Rachel had been so pleased when she came to the attention of Clark Singleton. The man seemed to become more attached to her when he met Quinn and encouraged Rachel to keep her brother nearby. He was most accommodating in allowing Quinn to live with her in the modest garret of a building he owned. Clark visited often, even when Rachel was out as he said he was amused by Quinn's company. In the few months since Carter had asked her to marry him, Rachel had been too swept up in preparations to see how her brother had become quieter, more withdrawn and distracted.

"Do you want to be cast out into the world to find your own way?" She asked him sharply. "You can hardly stand to engage in civil conversation with the post-man, let alone speak up enough to find work or make a living. Why, the few gatherings we have been too, you haven't attempted in the slightest to engage any young woman in conversation. You just sit in a corner among the men playing cards, not even asking to be dealt in, just gazing around like a nervous pet wanting regard but looking like you will run from any notice at all!"

Rachel finally ran herself out and, with a stamp of her foot, turned from Quinn, pushed through the door to her room and forcefully closed it on him. He stood staring at the floor, crimping the edge of his jacket hard in his hand.

There was only one thing he could do to settle his nerves.