Gabriel's Angel (15 page)

The fear had risen, a bitter bile in her throat. It was detestable. She waited for it to pass before she spoke. “I don't expect you to, but I can't make myself over for you, either. Even if I could, I don't know what you want. I know I should be grateful to you.”

“The hell with that.”

“I should be grateful,” she continued, calm again. “And I am, but I've found out something about myself this past year. I'll never be anyone's doormat ever again. Not even yours.”

“Do you think that's what I want?”

“I can't know what you want, Gabe, until you know yourself.” She'd gone this far, Laura told herself, and she would finish. “Right from the beginning you expected me to trust you. But after everything we've been through you still haven't been able to make yourself trust me. If we're ever going to be able to make this marriage work you're going to have to stop looking at me as a good deed and start seeing me as a person.”

“You have no idea how I see you.”

“No, I probably don't.” She managed a smile. “Maybe when I do it'll be easier for both of us.” She heard the baby crying and glanced down the hall. “He doesn't seem to be able to settle today.”

“I'll get him in a minute. He can't be hungry again. Wait.” If she could be honest, he told himself, then so could he. He put a hand on her arm to hold her there. “It's easy enough to clear up one misunderstanding. I haven't made love with you, not because I haven't wanted to, but because it's too soon.”

“Too soon?”

“For you.”

She started to shake her head. Then his meaning became clear. “Gabe, Michael's over four weeks old.”

“I know how old he is. I was there.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “Damn it, Laura, I saw what you went through. How hard it was on you. However I feel, it simply isn't possible for me to act on it until I know you're fully recovered.”

“I had a baby, not a terminal illness.” She let out a huff of breath, but she found it wasn't annoyance or even amusement she felt. It was pleasure, the rare and wonderful pleasure of being cared for. “I feel fine. I am fine. In fact, I've probably never been better in my life.”

“Regardless of how you feel, you've just had a baby. From what I've read—”

“You've read about this, too?”

That infuriated him—that wide-eyed wonder and the trace of humor in her eyes. “I don't intend to touch you,” he said stiffly, “until I'm sure you're fully recovered.”

“What do you want, a doctor's certificate?”

“More or less.” He started to touch her cheek, then thought better of it. “I'll see to Michael.”

He left her standing in the hall, unsure whether she was angry or amused or delighted. All that she was sure of was that she was feeling, and her feelings were all for Gabe.

Chapter 8

“I can't believe how fast he's growing.” Feeling very grandmotherly but sporting a sleek new hairstyle, Amanda sat in the bentwood rocker in Michael's new nursery and cuddled the baby.

“He's making up for being premature.” Still not quite certain how she felt about her mother-in-law, Laura continued to fold tiny clothes that were fresh from the laundry. “We had our checkup today, and the doctor said Michael was healthy as a horse.” She pressed a sleeper to her cheek. It was soft, almost as soft as her son's skin. “I wanted to thank you for recommending Dr. Sloane. She's wonderful.”

“Good. But I don't need a pediatrician to tell me this child's healthy. Look at this grip.” Amanda chuckled as Michael curled his fingers around hers, but she stopped short of allowing him to suck on her sapphire ring. “He has your eyes, you know.”

“Does he?” Delighted, Laura moved to stand over them. The baby smelled of talc—Amanda of Paris. “It's too early to tell, I know, but I'd hoped he did.”

“No doubt about it.” Amanda continued to rock as she studied her daughter-in-law. “And what about
your
checkup? How are you?”

“I'm fine.” Laura thought about the slip of paper she'd tucked into the top drawer of her dresser.

“Looking a bit tired to me.” There wasn't any sympathy in the voice; it was brusque and matter-of-fact. “Haven't you done anything about getting some help?”

Laura's spine straightened automatically. “I don't need any help.”

“That's absurd, of course. With a house this size, a demanding husband and a new baby, you can use all the help you can get, but suit yourself.” Michael began to coo, pleasing Amanda. “Talk to Gran, sweetheart. Tell Gran just how it is.” The baby responded with more gurgles. “Listen to that. Before long you'll have plenty to say for yourself. Just make sure ‘My gran's beautiful' is one of the first. There's a sweet boy.” She dropped a kiss on his brow before looking up at Laura. “I'd say a change is in order here, and I'm more than happy to leave that to you.” With what she considered a grandmother's privilege, Amanda handed the wet baby to Laura. She continued to sit as Laura took Michael to the changing table.

There was a great deal she'd have liked to say. Amanda was accustomed to voicing her opinions loud and clear—and, if necessary, beating anyone within reach over the head with it. It chafed a bit to hold back, but she'd learned enough in the past few weeks about the Eagletons and about Laura's life with them. Treading carefully, she tried a new tactic.

“Gabe's spending a lot of time at the gallery.”

“Yes. I think he's nearly decided to go ahead with a new showing.” Almost drowning in love, Laura leaned over to nuzzle Michael's neck.

“Have you been there?”

“The gallery? No, I haven't.”

Amanda tapped a rounded, coral-tipped nail on the arm of the rocker. “I'd think you'd be interested in Gabe's work.”

“Of course I am.” She held Michael over her head, and he began to bubble and smile. “I just haven't thought it wise to take Michael in and interrupt.”

It was on the tip of Amanda's tongue to remind Laura that Michael had grandparents who would delight in having him to themselves for a few hours. Again she bit the words back. “I'm sure Gabe wouldn't mind. He's devoted to the boy.”

“Yes, he is.” Laura retied the ribbons on Michael's pale blue booties. “But I also know he needs some time to organize his work, his career.” She handed her son a small cloth bunny, and he stuck it happily in his mouth. “Do you know why Gabe is hesitating about a showing?”

“Have you asked him?”

“No, I—I didn't want to pressure him about it.”

“A little pressure might be just what he needs.”

Frowning, Laura turned. “Why?”

“It has to do with Michael, my son Michael. I'd prefer it if you asked Gabe the rest.”

“They were close?”

“Yes.” She smiled. She'd learned it hurt less to remember than to try to forget. “They were very close, though they were very different. He was devastated when Michael was killed. I believe the time in the mountains helped Gabe get back his art. And I believe you and the baby helped him get back his heart.”

“If that's true, I'm glad. He's helped me more than I can ever repay.”

Amanda gave Laura an even look. “Payments aren't necessary between a husband and wife.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Are you happy?”

Stalling, Laura laid the baby in the crib and wound the musical mobile so that he could shake his fists and kick at it. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

“That was my next question.”

“I'm very happy.” She went back to folding and storing baby clothes. “It was nice of you to visit, Amanda. I know how busy your schedule is.”

“Don't think you can politely show me out the door before I'm ready to go.”

Laura turned and saw the faint, amused smile on Amanda's lips. Bad manners were enough out of character for her to make her flush. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I don't expect for you to be comfortable with me yet. I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with you, either.”

A bit more relaxed, Laura smiled back. “I'm sure you're always comfortable. I envy that about you. And I am sorry.”

Amanda brushed aside the apology and rose to roam the room. She liked what her daughter-in-law had done here. It was a bright, cheerful place, not overly fussy, and just traditional enough to make her remember the nursery she had set up herself so many years before. There were the scents of powder and fresh linen.

A loving place, she thought. She knew she wouldn't have wanted any more for her son. It was very obvious to her that Laura had untapped stores of love.

“This is a charming room. I think so every time I step into it.” Amanda patted the head of the four-foot lavender teddy bear. “But you can't hide here forever.”

“I don't know what you mean.” But she did.

“You said you'd never been to San Francisco, and now you're here. Have you gone to a museum, to the theater? Have you strolled down to Fisherman's Wharf, ridden a streetcar, explored Chinatown, any of the things a newcomer would surely do?”

Defensive now, Laura spoke coolly. “No, I haven't. But it's only been a few weeks.”

It was time, Amanda decided, to stop circling and get to the point. “Let's deal woman-to-woman a moment, Laura. Forget the fact that I'm Gabe's mother. We're alone. Whatever is said here doesn't have to go any further.”

Laura's palms were starting to sweat. She brushed them dry on the thighs of her slacks. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Whatever needs to be said.” When Laura remained silent, Amanda nodded. “All right, I'll begin. You've had some miserable spots in your life, some of them tragic. Gabe gave us the bare essentials, but I learned a good deal more by knowing who and what to ask.” Amanda sat down again and crossed her legs. She didn't miss the flash in Laura's eyes. “Wait until I've finished. Then you can be as offended as you like.”

“I'm not offended,” Laura said stiffly. “But I don't see the purpose in discussing what used to be.”

“Until you look what used to be square in the face, you won't be able to go on with what might be.” She tried to keep her voice brisk, but even her solid composure wavered. “I know that Tony Eagleton abused you, and that his parents overlooked what was monstrous, even criminal, behavior. My heart breaks for you.”

“Please.” Her voice was strangled as she shook her head. “Don't.”

“No sympathy allowed, Laura, even woman-to-woman?”

Again she shook her head, afraid to accept it and, more, to need it “I can't bear to think back on it. And I can't stand pity.”

“Sympathy and pity are entirely different things.”

“All that's behind me. I'm a different person than I was then.”

“I have no way of agreeing, as I didn't know you before. But I can say that anyone who stood on her own all these months must have great reserves of strength and determination. Isn't it time you used them, and fought back?”

“I have fought back.”

“You've taken sanctuary, a much-needed one. I won't argue that running as you did took courage and stamina. But there comes a time to take a stand.”

Hadn't she said that to herself time and time again? Hadn't she hated herself for only saying it? She looked at her son, who gurgled and reached for the colorful birds circling over his head.

“And what? Go to court, to the press, drag the whole ugly mess out for everyone to gawk at?”

“If necessary.” Her voice took on a tone of pride that carried to all corners of the room. “The Bradleys aren't afraid of scandal.”

“I'm not a—”

“But you are,” Amanda told her. “You're a Bradley, and so is that child. It's Michael I'm thinking of in the long run, but I'm also thinking of you. What difference does it make what anyone thinks, what anyone knows? You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I let it happen,” Laura said, with a kind of dull fury. “I'll always be ashamed of that.”

“My dear child.” Unable to prevent herself, Amanda rose to put her arms around Laura. After the first shock, Laura felt herself being drawn in. Perhaps it was because the comfort came from a woman, but it broke down her defences as nothing else ever had.

Amanda let her weep, even wept with her. The fact that she did, that she could, was more soothing than any words could have been. Cheek-to-cheek, woman-to-woman, they held each other until the storm passed. The bond that Laura had never expected to know was forged in tears. With her arm still around Laura, Amanda led her to the gaily striped daybed.

“That's been coming on for a while, I'd say,” Amanda murmured. She drew a lace-edged handkerchief out of her breast pocket and unashamedly wiped her eyes.

“I don't know.” Laura used the back of her wrist to smear away already-drying tears. “I suppose. Crying isn't something I should need, not anymore. It's only when I look back and remember.”

“Now listen to me,” Amanda said. All the softness had been erased from her voice. “You were young and alone, and you have nothing, nothing, to be ashamed of. One day you'll realize that for yourself, but for now it might be enough to know you're not alone anymore.”

“Sometimes I'm so angry, just so angry that I was used as a convenience, or a punching bag, or a status symbol.” It was amazing to her that fury could bring calm and wipe out pain. “When I am I know that no matter what it costs I'll never go back to that.”

“Then stay angry.”

“But . . . the anger for me, that's personal.” She looked across the room at the crib. “It's when I think of Michael and I know they're going to try to take him . . . then I'm afraid.”

“They don't just have to go through you now, do they?”

Laura looked back. Amanda's face was set. Her eyes glittered So this was where Gabe got his warrior look, Laura thought, and felt a new kind of love stir. It was the most natural thing in the world for Laura to reach out and take her hand. “No, they don't.”

They both heard the door open and close on the first floor. Immediately Laura began to brush her hands over her face. “That must be Gabe, home from the gallery. I don't want him to see me like this.”

“I'll go down and keep him occupied.” On impulse, she glanced at her watch. “Do you have plans for this afternoon?”

“No. Just to—”

“Good. Come down when you're tidied up.”

Ten minutes later, Laura came down to find Gabe cornered in the living room, scowling into a glass of club soda.

“Then it's all settled.” Amanda fluffed a hand through her hair, well satisfied. “Laura. Good. Are you ready?”

“Ready?”

“Yes. I've explained to Gabe that we're going shopping. He's absolutely delighted with the reception I've planned for the two of you next week.” The reception she'd only begun to plan on her way downstairs.

“Resigned,” he corrected, but he had to smile at his mother. The smile faded when he glanced over at Laura. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” It had been foolish to think that a quick wash and fresh makeup could hide anything from him. “Your mother and I were getting sentimental over Michael.”

“What your wife needs is an afternoon out.” Amanda rose, then leaned over to kiss Gabe. “I'd scold you for keeping her locked up this way, but I love you too much.”

“I never—”

“Never once nudged her out of the house,” his mother finished for him. “So it's up to me. Get your purse, dear. We have to find you something wonderful for the reception. Gabe, I imagine Laura needs your credit cards.”

“My— Oh.” Feeling like a tree blowing in a strong wind, he reached for his wallet.

“These should do.” Amanda plucked two of them and handed them to Laura. “Ready?”

“Well, I . . . Yes,” she said on impulse. “Michael's just been fed and changed. You shouldn't have any trouble.”

“I can handle things,” he told her, feeling more than a little put out. In the first place, he'd have taken her shopping himself if she'd asked. And in the second, though he didn't want to admit it, he wasn't totally sure of himself alone with the baby.

Reading her son perfectly, Amanda kissed him again. “Behave and we may bring you back a present.”

He couldn't suppress the grin. “Out,” he ordered. Then he caught Laura in turn and kissed her with the same light affection. It surprised him when she returned the embrace so ardently.

“Don't let her talk you into anything with bows,” he murmured. “They wouldn't suit you. You should try to find something to match your eyes.”