KNOCK ME OFF MY FEET

  Audie was having just about the best day of her life.

  She was talking with Aunt Esther about her 1959 steamer ship passage from Ireland to New York as a new bride when she felt a little tug on her skirt. She looked down to see Kiley, smiling brightly up at her.

  "Hey, kid!" Audie reached down for her hand.

  "Wanna see my treatment?"

  "What?" Audie looked up at Esther, but the older woman shook her head and whispered, "I'll tell you in a second."

  Audie looked back down at Kiley. "Sure, honey. Where should I go?"

  "The kitchen."

  "You go ahead. I'll be right there, OK?"

  "OK!"

  Audie watched the little girl's legs churn and then carry her up the back steps. The kitchen storm door slammed shut behind her.

  She turned back to Esther to see the woman's face lined with sadness. "What?" Audie's pulse quickened. "That's the second time she's mentioned that. What treatment is she talking about?"

  "She's a sick child, though you wouldn't know it to look at her." Esther's voice was soft. "She has cystic fibrosis—can't breathe well and has all these problems with digestion and the like."

  "What?" Audie nearly yelled.

  "I think Jamie told me she's up to six breathing treatments a day now and she has to take three of the enzyme pills at each meal. It's a sad thing to watch. Sheila is a saint, and that's the God's truth."

  "I didn't know. I…" Audie's eyes went back to the kitchen door and she felt her chest bunch up in knots. "Nobody told me. I'm so sorry."

  Esther shrugged. "The family doesn't make a major production of it. We don't want her to feel like she's peculiar—just a regular little girl who needs a bit of help with her breathin'."

  "My God." Audie simply stared at Esther. "I told her I'd watch, but I'm sure she doesn't—"

  "She likes for people to see. She likes you. If you told her you'd go, I recommend that you do."

  Audie thanked Esther and found herself climbing the back steps. She opened the door to Jamie's kitchen—a symphony of 1970s golds and browns—and found Sheila and Kiley at the table. Kiley was holding a plastic mask over her mouth, but Audie could see her eyes smiling above the rim.

  "Hey, Kiley," she said softly. "I'm here to see the treatment you told me about."

  Sheila whipped her head around, at first scowling, then letting the tension drop away. She slowly smiled at Audie. "Have a seat. It's a girls-only party."

  Audie would not cry. It would not happen. If this little girl could sit there so matter-of-fact, so could she. For some reason, Audie thought she'd read that cystic fibrosis was a fatal disease. But that couldn't be right—Kiley looked so healthy. She acted healthy. She was so bright and happy. It wasn't possible.

  Audie suddenly felt a hand reach out for hers and looked up, shocked, to see Sheila smiling at her. "There are wonderful things going on with research right now—great things. It's an exciting time."

  Audie nodded like an idiot, feeling the sting of tears she thought she'd talked herself out of. She turned her eyes away and stared at the little machine that seemed to be pushing steam through a tube and into Kiley's lungs, making hissing and clicking noises as it worked.

  "She has two kinds of breathing treatments," Sheila went on. "This one is antibiotics to prevent infection. The others are for breaking down the mucus. We alternate during the day."

  The kitchen door opened and Michael and Quinn walked in, and Quinn's eyes slammed into Audie's, full of questions and concern.

  "Hey! How's my trooper?" Michael leaned over and kissed his daughter on top of her head and reached for her little hand. "Do I get to be the next one to pound on you, squirt?"

  Kiley nodded, her eyes smiling at her father.

  "About ten more minutes, Mike," Sheila said softly.

  "It's a date," he said, leaning down to his wife. Audie watched as he kissed her gently and whispered, "I love you so much, Sheila," before he walked to the refrigerator.

  "Dear God in heaven, what are you eating now, Michael?" Sheila called after him.

  "Would you get off my back, woman?" Michael huffed. "I'm getting some limes for the guests. You can't have a party without limes." He winked at Sheila on his way out the door and Audie watched a wistful smile spread across Sheila's face.

  Quinn was still staring at her.

  "I'm going to run to the rest room, OK, Kiley? I'll be right back." Audie felt herself move as if in a trance, rising from the kitchen chair and walking down the hallway. She passed right by the bathroom. She just needed to go stand in a corner for a few moments and let the trembling stop.

  She found herself at the front door. She opened the door, closed it behind her, and sat down on the stoop. Then she cried like a coward.

  She heard the front door click shut behind her and felt Quinn sit close, his hip right up against hers. "Did you bring any of your hankies, Homey?"

  She shook her head violently, hiding her face in her hands.

  "You're going to have to start remembering to bring them along, all right?"

  Quinn held out one of his white handkerchiefs and waited for her to take it. "That was my mistake. I probably should have told you about Kiley, but it never came up. She's a great kid. She's going to be fine."

  Audie wiped at her eyes and stared at him, at a loss for words, listening to the waves of backyard laughter roll along the side of the house. Then she looked at all the neat brick homes lined up so close to one another in this city neighborhood and thought about all the lives pressed together on just this one street—sickness and happiness and rivalry and regret and love. Families.

  Her question came out as a rough whisper. "What did Michael mean when he said he'd 'pound' on her?"

  Quinn brushed Audie's hair away from her face and tucked a handful of waves behind her ear, and she saw his green eyes flicker with tenderness.

  "They have to percuss her chest—pound on it—a couple times a day. We all went to classes to learn how to do it—Mike and Sheila, Da, Pat, and me. Percussing breaks up all the gunk in her lungs so she can breathe."

  She turned her face away from him.

  "It's OK, Audie. It's just part of her life. We do what we have to so Kiley's comfortable and happy. Then we just pray a lot."

  She turned to stare at him, suddenly very angry. "Pray for what?"

  "Well, a breakthrough. The way things stand right now, people with cystic fibrosis are lucky if they live to the age of thirty or so."

  Audie's mouth fell open.

  "We just try to have faith."

  "I can't deal with this." She stood up and began to walk down the sidewalk.

  Quinn was behind her. "A walk sounds good," he offered.

  She didn't respond, but she didn't resist when Quinn reached for her hand.

  "You've got a tender heart, Audie. That's one of the things I like about you. But please don't be sad. Kiley doesn't like it when people are sad for her—it pisses her off, in fact." Quinn started laughing.

  "My God!" Audie pulled away her hand. "Do you have any idea how bizarre this whole thing is for me? That your family laughs so much? That they love each other so much? Like the way Michael was with Sheila in there—do you have any idea how strange this all is to me? How overwhelmed I am? How surprised?"

  "No. I didn't know." Quinn inclined his head a bit and studied her, his green eyes intense yet warm. The man was so beautiful, Audie's breath hitched.

  She started to walk again.

  "Hey. Wait."

  "How can everyone pretend they're not sad?" She whirled on him. "Aren't your hearts broken?"

  "Hell, yes, they are."

  She shook her head. "I don't get it."

  "Audie." Quinn laid his palm gently against the side of her face. "We're not pretending anything, but if there's a choice between laughing and crying, the Quinns pick laughing every time. It's better for the soul."

  She blinked at him, her mind reeling, her heart twisting in big, mysterious knots of emotion—
for this man, his niece, the rest of his family, and her own huge, immeasurable emptiness.

  "Why did you give me your mother's handkerchiefs?"

  Quinn watched as she propped her fists on her hips and jutted out her chin before she continued.

  "Stanny-O told me they were Trish's. Why did you give them to me? You hardly know me. I'm nobody to you."

  He dropped his hand from her cheek and looked at her for a long time. It was a good question—a damn good question—and for the life of him, he couldn't come up with a logical answer. He was beginning to realize that logic had little to do with his feelings for Audie.

  "It freaked me out, Quinn. Tell me why you gave me your mother's handkerchiefs!"

  He nodded slowly and took a breath. Her rich brown eyes were fixed on his and she wasn't letting go. This was a big moment, and he didn't want to blow it. Not too much, he told himself. Not too fast or she'd bolt.

  "Because I'm tired of washing your snot out of mine?"

  Audie closed her eyes and shook her head, trying not to laugh.

  "All right, fine. They're actually my grandmother Stacey's, and I gave them to you because I think you're special and I wanted you to have something that was special to me, personal to me. But you already know that's how I feel about you."

  Her eyes flew open and she started marching away from him down the sidewalk. At least she wasn't running or flipping him off, Quinn thought. He stayed at her side.

  She suddenly wheeled on him. "Your grandmother's? God! That's even worse! When we get back to the North Side, I'm giving them back to you."

  "I wish you wouldn't."

  "I have no business with them."

  "And why is that?" He grabbed her by her upper arms. "Isn't it my choice what I do with them? Lace doesn't go with my shoulder holster, anyway."

  She blinked, and Quinn watched as a single tear rolled down her left cheek. "What in the hell is happening here?" she whispered, her eyes scanning his face. "I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone of love or something, and it's making me panicky, like I've got to get out of here, like you're too much for me, your family is too much for me."

  Quinn was tempted to pull her close to him and smother her doubt with kisses—but he knew that would only make things worse. He dropped his hands from her body. "Then count to ten and stop your crying, Audie, because I need you for something important."

  She frowned and propped her fists on her hips again. "Need me for what?"

  "Do you want to do something nice for Kiley? Would you like to see her laugh?"

  She nodded. "Of course I would."

  "Then come back to the house with me. Pat said the boys want to get a game going down at Kennedy Park. Want to go kick some ass with me?"

  Audie's eyes got wide. "Soccer?"

  "Yep. I figure we tell them you've never played before, but you want to learn. That ought to be good for a few laughs." He took her hand and they were walking with purpose back down the street.

  "And we let Kiley in on the joke from the beginning?" Audie was smiling.

  "My plan exactly."

  * * *

  Quinn watched Sheila and Audie trade shoes—even Audie couldn't get off a decent kick in a pair of flimsy little sandals, he supposed.

  And from the sidelines, he watched Kiley squeal and giggle and yell as Audie pretended to be confused and scared of the ball. It was a fine performance, too.

  The little girl's eyes nearly popped from her head when Audie finally let loose and jumped and twirled and ran in her short skirt, the sweat running down her face, blowing everyone out of the water.

  When Audie scored the first time, Quinn laughed so damn hard at Michael's stunned expression that he thought he'd busted an artery. It was priceless. The other times she scored he just felt proud and cheered her on.

  And when she jumped on his back, and took a victory lap—God, Quinn felt like the luckiest man on earth to be holding her, to have her with him.

  "Good Christ," Pat whispered to him at one point, slapping his brother's back. "Did you have a chance to winterize her yet?"

  "Pogue mahone, Stacey," Michael quipped, trying not to laugh in appreciation. "I'll find a way to get you back for this one, believe me."

  It was eight-thirty when Quinn and Audie said they needed to head back, and after nine by the time they made it to the car—there were a lot of people who wanted to hug Audie good-bye. Sheila had a difficult time removing Kiley's arms from around Audie's neck.

  Jamie walked them down the street.

  "Keep safe, lad. See you Wednesday at the Academy for rehearsal." Jamie gave Quinn a peck on the cheek as his son got in the car.

  "Audie?" He walked over to the passenger side and placed his big hands on her shoulders. "You, my dear, are a complete joy. Please come back soon."

  "I'd like that."

  Jamie wrapped her up in his arms again and gently patted her back. "Take good care of each other," he whispered. Then he kissed her cheek, too.

  All she could do was nod.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  Audie sat quietly in the car, tingling from Jamie's kiss and his words. Now she knew where Quinn got his unlikely mixture of gentleness and macho swagger—from his father.

  "I'm dying of curiosity, Quinn. What's pogue mahone mean?"

  Quinn laughed. "That's Gaelic for 'Kiss my ass.'"

  "Figured it was something like that," she said.

  "So did you have a good time today?"

  "Oh, fair, Stacey," she sighed. "How about you?"

  His chuckle was so warm and soft that it gave Audie goosebumps.

  "My family is the best part of my life—my family and friends. I've already told you that." Quinn reached over and brushed his knuckles against the side of her face. "Having you with me today made it even better."

  Audie shot him a circumspect look.

  "That's all. I'm done. I won't say another nice thing to you the whole way back. I swear it." He dropped his hand to her shoulder briefly, then pulled away to concentrate on the drive.

  She sat in silence, staring out at the busy South Side neighborhoods along 103d Street

  . The cars looked normal. The streets were straight and flat. The traffic lights were red, yellow, or green. It was all quite ordinary.

  Then it must be her, she decided, because suddenly she didn't know where she was.

  But oh! She sure knew how she'd gotten there!

  It started with the anonymous threats. Then Griffin insisted she call the cops. Then the cop sent to protect her ended up seducing her. Then she'd been seduced by the cop's entire family!

  And right at that instant, Audie couldn't decide whether to run like hell or jump into this man's arms and beg him to love her forever. How had she let it get this messed up? How could she have put herself in this position?

  But there she was—in Quinn's car, in the dark, under some kind of magic spell. Her brain had been addled by an entire day of affection and belonging, and now her mind was wandering light-years beyond basic common sense, and she was thinking about all the wonderful "what ifs" of Detective Stacey Quinn.

  What if Quinn was the right man for her? What if he could love her for who she was? What if they got married someday and she suddenly became one of those Quinn people—the laughing, arguing, singing, drinking, loving South Side Quinns?

  What an intriguing thought.

  If Helen were alive, she'd have a cow, and wouldn't that just be icing on the wedding cake right there?

  Audie giggled silently and cast a sly peek at Quinn, then turned away.

  Their wedding would be a big, emotional affair. The reception would be loud and wild. All their kids would have Quinn's eyes. She'd quit the column and go back to coaching and teaching. They'd live in Quinn's house and they could fit one of those wooden swing set contraptions in the backyard.

  She stole another glance at the poor unsuspecting groom- and father-to-be, his no-nonsense face lit up by the dashboard, all st
raight angles and handsome planes.

  Oh, hell, she might as well admit it—it wasn't just the magic spell of his family. It was the magic of Stacey Quinn himself. He was wonderful. She was fatally curious about him, fatally tempted, fatally interested.

  She winced and looked down at her hands. She'd already used the L-word in her mind, hadn't she? It didn't mean she actually loved him. It just meant it might be possible. Or not.

  Audie smoothed her hair and pulled her shoulders back. "OK, Quinn. The answer is I'm not exactly sure what I like the best," she said, seemingly out of nowhere.

  "Huh?" Quinn looked her way and cocked his head.

  "That day on the boat you asked me what I like in bed and I don't really think I know for sure."

  "Jee-ay-sus, Audie. You're supposed to warn me!"

  She looked over to see him grinning ear-to-ear.

  "I'm sorry. You're absolutely right, Detective." She laughed and took a deep breath. "I'd like to talk about sex now. Would that be all right?"

  "I've got a few spare minutes."

  Audie folded her hands in her lap and bit her lower lip. "Why don't you ask me questions and I'll try to answer them? Do you think that will work?"

  "What kind of questions?"

  "Sex questions."

  "Like a health class quiz?"

  "No! Like a get-to-know-you thing."

  Quinn snorted. "Pardon me for bringing this up, but the last time I tried to 'get to know you,' you sent me packing to the guest room."

  "I know. But this is different."

  "So you're ready for me now, Audie?" His voice sounded strained.

  "I think so. I don't know. Just ask me questions before I chicken out."

  Quinn took the entrance ramp onto the Dan Ryan Expressway, laughing nervously. "I don't think I'm going to be watching road signs in a minute. Don't let me miss the Lake Shore exit."

  "No problem."

  He adjusted himself in the driver's seat and pulled the car into the stream of expressway traffic. "OK—let's start with a simple one. Uh, how do you like to be kissed?"

  "All the ways you've kissed me so far have been quite nice. I got no complaints there."