Quietly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled himself to get down on his knees beside the sleeping boy.
"Oh, little guy," he whispered as he bent over and picked up the sleepy toddler. "I know you were frightened, and I'm sorry. We'll never let anything bad happen to you again. You don't have to be afraid. Just look at me, okay?" He took the boy's face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "That's right, now go back to sleep. We're taking you home to Mama now, and everything's going to be all right."
When Quiggly arrived at the cabin at around eleven o'clock that evening, he didn't take the time to knock. He simply walked into the back hallway and saw Quinton's big, tough body sprawled in an armchair just outside the nursery.
"H-how did ya get in?" Quinton asked with alarm.
"Your mama left the door unlocked," Quiggly said, walking in and nodding toward the darkened room where a small crib sat near the wall. A lone single red balloon floated by the cot.
"Did ya have to go back in there?" Quinton asked, rising to his feet and turning to meet Quiggly's eyes. He looked nervous, and his hair was disheveled, as if he had spent a good deal of time running his hands through it.
Quiggly tried not to be upset by Quinton's behavior. "No," he said. "I didn't have to go back in there. But I had to go and make sure everything was all right with you and your son. I've been here before, but I didn't want you to think I was bothering you."
Quinton nodded and shook his head a little. "Uh-huh," he said, moving toward Quiggly.
"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Quiggly said, glancing away from the man in a bid to hide the look of dismay on his face. "I'm only trying to make it easier for you. I understand how hard it's been for you, and...well, I didn't think you wanted to be bothered anymore. I didn't mean to intrude."
"I-I should have answered the door," Quinton stuttered. "I just forgot, that's all. My mind's been on a lot of things lately. Your mama's right—it's too much for me, all of it." He stared at the ground for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling, as if seeing a faraway place or something he had left long ago. Then he seemed to come out of his reverie and turned to face Quiggly. "And there's a lot more to it all," he added, his eyes fixed on Quiggly. "You don't know. You really don't know."
Quiggly nodded and looked down at his feet. "I understand," he said. "Y'know, she might have already made plans to go back to New York. I know she has friends over there, so I thought she might have...well, I just thought you should know."
Quinton nodded and stared at the floor once more. "So it's true, then, what he said?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the nursery.
Quiggly nodded slowly and glanced toward the bedroom, which seemed quiet. "You'd better go see for yourself."
Quinton walked into the room, took two steps toward the crib, and his eyes took on a look of surprise.
"Good God! She did it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. He was absolutely stunned, and his eyes grew wide. "She did it."
The look of confusion and joy on Quiggly's face at first made Quinton want to smile. It was so unexpected and so pleasant to see the big man look so pleased. But it didn't take long to remember why Quinton felt so much conflict and doubt.
"Uh-oh, but don't get too happy about this, 'cause it ain't quite over," Quinton said quickly. "You've gotta come along with me if you want to live. Right now, I'm trying to decide if I should call the police and tell 'em you've kidnapped my son or try and do this ourselves."
Quiggly didn't have to think about that for more than two seconds. "Call the police," he said, his voice calm and composed.
"But it's not like I'm really stealing your child," Quinton argued, though he had heard the voice of reason in the words.
"Yeah, but you are," Quiggly said. "I mean, you've done something really bad that maybe hurts her. Maybe it's going to hurt them both. Maybe it's like a divorce."
"Yeah," Quinton said, walking back to the chair, sinking into it, and propping his feet on the rung of the side table. "I did the right thing, bringing him home here instead of leaving him with that horrible mother of his. Don't worry. I won't make any permanent decisions right now. I'll wait until I see what she's doing. I hope she leaves tonight and takes him with her. Then she can't use him anymore to tell people about me, can she? I mean, we've got to get this kid out of here and raise him up proper. I've got to think on this, maybe contact some friends, see what they say. I've got a lot to think about. But just know that I'm not going to lose him, not unless she tells somebody he disappeared and went to heaven or something."
"I don't understand why you're in such a hurry to leave if you think that way," Quiggly said. "I mean, they could take him away from you if you decide to tell the police. I don't want that, do you?"
Quinton shrugged and pushed his hand through his hair again. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, his voice filled with more uncertainty. "But how long is it gonna take them to find out? It might be that she'll wait around awhile, like maybe a week, then run away, but if she told somebody about me, they might go out looking for him. And if she did that, we'd never see the kid again. I mean, if they found us, they'd take him away from us, and we'd never get to see him again. You got that?"
Quiggly didn't answer but reached out and touched Quinton's arm. "You're scared, aren't you?" he said.
"Nah, not scared. But I gotta be honest with you. I'm scared they might take him away. Look, I just think it would be best if I went off on my own for a while. You know, be out of sight, like we'd have to be. I just can't bring him home here, don't you see? I have no right to keep him."
"I'm sure you have the right. Your mother can tell them the truth about you caring for him, if that's what she wants to do, but you have no right to take him away from her, you know. I want you to know that."
Quinton didn't reply.
"You wanna get a cup of coffee or something? You need to calm down and...you know what? I'll get you something."
"You stay here," Quinton said, leaning back in the chair. "I just wanted to see for myself, that's all. I need time to get myself together, too, if that's what you want."
Quiggly nodded. "Sure, and when you're ready, you know where to find me. I'll be right here, at the cabin."
Quinton nodded and began to get up from the chair, but Quiggly stopped him. "I'm really proud of you," he said. "I think it's great what you've done for your son. You've gotta keep trying, too. He needs you."
"Yeah," Quinton said, nodding. "Yeah, he does."
Quiggly took a few steps back toward the nursery and turned back to Quinton. He could see that he was looking toward the crib again, and he knew that he had to go. "I'll see you later," he said.
"Sure," Quinton said. "Thanks for coming by, Quiggly. Y'know, that's about the best thing you've done all day."
"Good-bye, then," he said, turning around to leave. He tried not to show it, but he was shocked by Quinton's response. As he walked slowly toward the door, he hoped that Quinton wouldn't be upset and that he could convince the man to stay for a cup of coffee or to simply stay for a few minutes. But Quinton was silent.
"How did it go?" asked Quinton's mother as soon as she saw him standing in the kitchen doorway. "Is he still asleep?"
"Y-yes, he's asleep," Quiggly said, glancing around, looking for any sign of the child's mother or father. The house was quiet, but there was no telling what was going on behind those closed doors. "There
