Leon Uris - A God In Ruins

The first chill was at Christmas, which they had to awkwardly split between Grand Junction and the ranch. However, it was a good thing they went outside and got some fresh air. Quinn liked her father, a double-A shortstop .. .

“Dad could have made it to the show, but he could never hit a motherfucking slow curve inside,” Greer explained.

“That was the first thing you taught me,” Quinn said.

“Too bad she was born of the opposite sex. But you know, she sure can manage a team. Little Leaguers. One kid was pushing her button the year they won the state. She soaped out his mouth in front of the rest of them and made him apologize .. . well, in my estimate Jimmy Foxx was the greatest power hitter of them all because he was right-handed.”

Joyful and Triumphant.

After a gallop through the low meadow Quinn had to carry her into the house and set her in a tub. Roping was out of the question.

O Come Ye, O Come Ye.

NEW YEAR’S EVE, 1971

New Year’s. All the apartments opened their doors. Sad revelers and happy revelers wondered what it meant. Nuclear devastation was all the talk. A downer ran through the land.

But most of those on downers had each other. The New Year’s kiss was always a kiss of hello. In that instant Greer and Quinn knew it was a kiss of good-bye; the awful countdown had begun.

At a late-winter indoor baseball practice, Quinn was whacking the ball as though he had Superman’s eyes. He had crossed a magic line where his psyche could slow the ball down.

She watched him now as though she had turned a page forever and it didn’t read like the old madcap joy of the other page. Although they still had months left on their odyssey, a residue of discontent had begun in the pit of her stomach.

Quinn was, as usual, hunched over the kitchen table, far away, into Joseph Campbell, when she came home rather draggy. She mussed his hair and turned on the teakettle.

“How was your day, honey?” Quinn asked.

“Oh, fine except for one little thing,” she said, sitting opposite him.

“You’re pregnant,” Quinn said.

“How did you know?”

“I can count to twenty-nine.”

She shook her head. His hand pulled her over to his lap. He rubbed her stomach. “Not too much room in there.”

“You don’t seem too upset, Quinn.”

“The way we’ve been going at it, we don’t keep throwing a dare at God. Anyhow, I thought about it early on. Last few days, I’ve thought about it much. We’ve gotten down a lot of road. Let’s talk, Quinn-and-Greer talk.”

“Oh, Jesus, you’re wonderful,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing herself to sob.

“I love you, Greer. We decide, I’ll abide.”

“My own Reverend Jackson. It’s not that big a deal these days. They’re

happening every day on campus. When I found out, I was just going to

have it fixed, have an abortion and string you along. I, uh, even made an appointment. I couldn’t do it. I love you, man. We won’t marry and I’ll go on to New York with the baby.”

“That’s got a bad downside, baby. My daughter, my son, I want to raise it. Single parent in Manhattan for a twenty-two year-old woman? Not when you are set to launch a dynamic career.”

“Adoption?” she whispered.

“No!” he cried. “No! Greer, have the child. I’ll raise it in

Colorado, and in time it’ll meet its mother.”

“You’re ready to take on something like this?”

“Very much so.”

Greer wept. “You’re too good for me. I’m a selfish bitch.” She grabbed his hands and pleaded. “You know I can’t start out in New York with an infant.”

“We’ve blown out the lights, Greer. In five thousand years no couple has enthralled each other more. We’re way ahead, baby and all.”

“Suppose we marry other people?”

“He’ll have a mother and a father, and it will be up to you what kind of relationship you want to make. At least he’ll always know where he came from—or she .. . the thought of a baby girl .. . really makes me smile.”

After his nap, Father Scan came down from his apartment to a room seemingly sticky with wet tar. Siobhan, Dan, and Quinn were wearing their Eugene O’Neill faces.

“Am I family or am I the priest?” Scan asked.

“I’ve written and talked to you about Greer Little,” Quinn began.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t take your advice. You’re right, Uncle Scan,

the piper must be paid. Greer is not your ordinary hausfrau, no

offense, Mom. She’s one of the most brilliant communications students

this university has ever put out. She’s also a wild woman. She’s

graduating and has three or four jobs waiting for her in New York. We

thought we’d like to do one year in paradise before we got on with the nuts and bolts of our lives.”

“And she’s pregnant,” Father Sean said, “but wants to continue on in New York?”

“That’s right.”

“They weren’t normal!” Dan cried.

“That’s what they wanted,” Sean said, “not to be normal. Were you quite wild?”

“Yes, sir,” Quinn replied.

“Were other people involved?” Sean asked.

“No, just the two of us.”

“Drugs?”

“One or two joints a week. Nothing else.”

“I felt,” Siobhan said, “Greer was not right for Quinn from the beginning. I also knew if he went to New York after her or if we disapproved, we’d lose him.”

“She can’t cook,” Dan said, “she can’t sew, she can’t ride, she’s not a Catholic.”

“Shut up, Dan. You love this girl?” Sean asked.

“Yes. We ... we ... we ... won’t marry. That would be a farce.”

“What do you want to do, Quinn?”

“I want her to stay here, carry the baby to term, and have the child. I want to take care of it for the rest of my life.”

“Slut!” Dan bellowed. “Dirty, skinny, rotten slut.”

“Dan, stop it!” Siobhan cried.

“Dad, never say that again! Dad, don’t ever say that!”

“Are we so damned certain it’s Quinn’s child?”

“That’s enough, ClanI” Sean commanded. “My Roman collar is off! No and no! You can’t bring a child here into this hatred. Yes, Quinn could leave and this time for good. You are a very decent man, Quinn, but you are innocent of what is required to raise such a child whose mother is alive and in all likelihood might never contact him. Haven’t you had enough of that, Quinn, than to pass down your own misery?”

“You’re not suggesting an abortion,” Siobhan wept.

“Yes, I am,” Scan said, “and God help me.”

“The only way,” Dan mumbled, “is to have her get her abortion and I’ll give her ten thousand dollars.”

“You’ve just told me everything I want to know, Dad. Greer doesn’t want the baby here, same way you didn’t want me here! Too bad my parents let me be born. Go on, man, throw the fetus in a garbage can.”

“Dan, I’m on my hands and knees,” Siobhan cried, “and it will be Quinn’s son.”

“I’m out of here,” Quinn said softly. “Pack my things.”

“Oh, go ahead! Getting to be a routine,” Dan said. “Every time you’ve looked at me since you were ten, Quinn, you’ve blamed me. You’ve looked at me in that way that said, you’re not my father. What about my feelings! I took it all, but this is it. You and that tramp!”

Siobhan was speechless, clinging to Quinn.

“And you, Father Sean, advising me to kill my baby. Have it in a public toilet and throw it in a Dumpster,” Quinn cried.

“Yes, I did,” Sean said meekly.

“Before you go crawling back to that little whore, take this with you. Greer’s a whore just like your birth mother. Your mother was a nun and a whore!”