A/N: Wow, I've gotten so many reviews! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this story. I think I'm just as excited as you all are for each and every chapter. I hope you'll stick with me. I'm not looking at a six chapter fic anymore (that flew out of the window haha). But I've got everything mapped. And I'm thinking we'll actually be pushing ten. It just keeps coming, and I keep needing to add more! The mystery is killing me!
And finally here is Chapter four, enjoy. Please, please enjoy.
Chapter 4 –
Goldberg, Stein and Berry:
The phone call to Ohio lasts another ten minutes, and Quinn is suddenly looking up plane tickets on Orbitz even though she's fully aware that she has graduate classes at Columbia full time. Minutes ago a plane ticket anywhere seemed completely out of the question but "Captain" agreed to use some of the store funds to help pay for her flight. And as she stares at the blinking laptop screen and the confirmation number for a ticket to Lima, Ohio sitting pristinely in her gmail inbox she begins to feel her lungs start to cave in.
Her eyes prickle, and she's struggling for breath as the world comes crashing down at her feet. Because what the fuck is this? Twelve hours ago she was fine. She was confident in her assurances, she was Quinn Fabray, first year graduate student at the School of Law at Columbia in New York City. And now…
Well now she doesn't know who she is…
And the only thing that she knows for certain is the reality of love and kindness that once belonged to her. She is assured of the infinite layers of compassion dripping off of tan fingertips, and the presence of steady deep brown eyes that anchored her with the force of their unyielding gravitational pull at one time or another.
Rachel Berry.
The name comes back to her in the midst of her mild panic attack, and the very thought of auburn hair and coffee laden eyes has her heart puttering down to a steady hum – beating peacefully against her pale chest.
And still, the memories were only coming to her in pieces. The jacket was like sparking a match to a flame, and igniting a fire so bright and luminous that Quinn can hardly breathe. Only now… she feels as though the Oxygen is beginning to run out, and the once bright fire is left to bristle lightly as the heat is slowly but surely extinguishing before her hazel eyes.
But Quinn doesn't want to forget again.
She wants to hold on the image of a brown haired, beautiful girl serenading her mellifluously atop a bed of grass while they watch the meteor shower descend like tiny golden stars upon them in the Lima night.
She wants to remember the feel of small hands running around her hips, securing her so solidly to an assurance and a kindness that she's never known anywhere else.
And Quinn can't help but want all of those things, and she's frustrated beyond comprehension that she isn't completely sure if Rachel Berry is even attainable. What became of her, what happened when they graduated? Why is Quinn's memory so faint, and so lost on her when all she wants is a freedom that she wishes she could afford?
Her head droops and her eyes linger unflinchingly to her cell phone, dropped and placed alongside her laptop on the coffee table after her phone call. She has the intention of leaving it there and calling it an early night, but her hands and her heart are beating to a much different drum, and she finds herself searching "The Lost Boys Children Foundation" on her small phone browser. She glances at the time, it's 6:35pm, and she isn't sure that luck will be on her side tonight, but she hits "Call" on the number from the Google search result page, and once again she waits quietly for a response on the other end of the line.
"Thank You For Calling Lost Boys Children Foundation, Carolyn speaking, how may I help you?"
Quinn sighs quietly before biting her bottom lip, willing her speech muscles to move along with the rampant thoughts running wild in her muddled head.
"Hello, my name is Quinn Fabray, I received a book today that was donated by your organization, and I just wanted to know a bit more about the history of The Lost Boys Foundation – particularly regarding how one would become involved with said organization?"
"I would love to help you Ms. Fabray. If you don't mind holding for one minute, I can transfer your call over to our Vice Director of Operations…"
"Thank you."
It takes a few minutes of bad elevator music for the phone to re-connect, and suddenly Quinn is met with the stern voice of a woman. Her tone is powerful and yet completely soothing – as if she knows exactly what she wants and she isn't afraid to get it, but what drives all of her motivations securely is her compassion.
"Lily Goldberg speaking, how can I help you today?"
"Hello, my name is Quinn Fabray. I was calling to mostly ask about how The Lost Boys Foundation came to be? I did a short Wikipedia search before I called but all I really got was that it was founded in the 1900's or so. But I'm doing a bit of a research project – I'm a grad student at Columbia – and today I received a book that I believe contains historical information regarding your organization. And well, I just wanted to interview your foundation first hand regarding the small discovery."
There's a short cough on the other end of the line replaced by the steady faint tapping of a pen on paper.
"Ah I see… of course. We're at the end of our day but this shouldn't take long. For the most part The LBF was founded in 1917 by my great grandparents Mr. and Mrs. Abraham Goldberg. Their parents were Jewish immigrants from Europe, and they were both raised here in New York City before meeting one another and getting started in philanthropy. Ms. Goldberg was heavily inspired by the play "Peter Pan" and later the book. It was her idea and because of that fascination that our name is what it is today. Of course at the time we only did house male youth, today we provide services for all children, male and/or female."
"And has the foundation been under family ownership since it's inception?"
"Yes it has, proudly so I might add."
"Okay… you could probably answer this question better than most Ms. Goldberg – especially since you are direct family…you wouldn't happen to know who K.L. Goldberg is? Or perhaps who those initials are referring to would you?"
Quinn can hear the silence from the pause of the tapping of the pen in the background. The air between the two receivers doesn't change, and if Quinn had known better she is sure that Ms. Lily Goldberg is unaware of her subconscious pause for air as she continues the conversation.
"Yes of course I do Ms. Fabray. K.L. Goldberg, If I'm not mistaken is my great grandmother Katherine Lily Goldberg, nee Stein. She's actually who I'm named after myself."
"Hmm…interesting. You wouldn't happen to know what 'Savta g'dolah means would you? The book of which I'm referring was found with the name K.L. Goldberg written in the margins, but beneath it there was a reference to the term 'Savta g'dolah from a second inscription."
"Oh, well that means great-grandmother in Hebrew. Perhaps the book was one of our old storage copies, we're kind of book heads in my family, and it must have belonged to one of my sisters or cousins or something."
"Well, probably not. You said you're name is Goldberg, and if I'm correct in my assumptions, the receiver of the book is a Berry."
"Berry?"
"Yes… so it's probably just some weird –"
"No, I mean. I know the Berrys. They're our cousins. My great-grandmother's sister married a man named Raphael Berry, and if I'm correct she kept in close contact with that side of the family over the years. It's quite possible that the book you're referring to, still migrated throughout the family – extended of course, but family nonetheless. Now that I think about it, I believe most of the Berry's migrated out west somewhere…"
And Quinn is suddenly pulling her computer to her knees as she hangs up the phone abruptly in Lily Goldberg's face. Her fingers flying over the keys wildly until she finds the phone book listing on the online yellow pages for Lima, Ohio and it's surrounding cities. She finds Leroy and Hiram Berry under the B's and punches out the number rapid fire before her head can process the complete and utter thoughtlessness of her actions.
And suddenly the telephone is ringing again and Quinn can't possibly breathe. She feels as if she may just suffocate.
"Hello…"
Her breath pauses and her living room flashes in front of her eyes as she struggles to catch her rapidly beating heart.
"Hi…is Hiram Berry available?"
"Speaking, who's calling? Is this one of Rachel's friends from the casting department? She said Sylvia or someone would be-"
And Quinn closes her eyes – realization evident in her pupils that yes, Rachel Berry exists out there in the world somewhere. And that maybe, just maybe – all of this isn't for nothing. Because Quinn just wants to remember, she want's to feel as if the world isn't tilting on it's axis, because since this morning, she's felt as if she's been missing an integral part of her very soul. And in all honesty – now that she thinks about it– she's been missing a lot of things, and she hasn't even realized it until now.
"N-No, Mr. Berry. I-I'm not Sylvia, I'm not quite sure who that is…my name is Quinn. Quinn Fabray actually, I went to school with your daughter. And I was just calling because I think I need your help in figuring something out…"
There's an audible gasp on the other end of the line, and she swears she can almost picture the man's eyes welling up fully with tears. She can hear it in the hitch of his voice and the wavering of the words as they expel themselves from his lips over the receiver. And Quinn just wants to cry along with him.
"Oh, Quinn."
"Yes…"
Her voice is so soft she isn't sure that he could have possibly heard her. But she isn't sure that she can manage anything higher than that in her current state. And she knows, she can just feel it in her bones that somehow she'll be making a dual stop on her trip to Lima next week. It seems inevitable in the way that Hiram is sniffling into the phone. His lips smiling – she can almost feel it through the infinitesimal satellite tether that is inadvertently connecting them together.
"Oh, Sweetheart…"
His voice is blatantly cracking as his vocal chords give out from the tears.
"I-I've been waiting for your call…"
