Gabriel's Angel (20 page)

“Maybe you should have. It might be time for us to go back to square one and spell it out.”

She shook her head and made herself turn to face him again. “I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see a lawyer in the morning.”

He felt the life drain out of him in one swift flood. She wanted a divorce. Then, as quickly as he'd been left limp, the fury came. Unlike Laura, he had never had to prime himself for a fight. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It can't be put off any longer. I can't keep pretending it's not necessary.” Again she wanted to step into his arms, to feel them close around her, make her safe. She kept an arm's length away and stood on her own. “I didn't want to start what will be a difficult and ugly period without letting you know.”

“That's big of you.” Spinning away, he dragged a hand through his hair. Above him, her portrait smiled gently down. As he stood between them, he felt as though he were caught between two women, between two needs. “What in the hell brought this on? Do you think you can kiss me good-bye at the door, then talk about lawyers a few hours later? If you haven't been happy, why haven't you said so?”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Gabe. We knew this would probably happen eventually. You were the one who told me there'd come a time when I'd have to face it. Now I'm ready to. I just want to give you the option of backing off before it's too late to turn back.”

He started to snap at her, then stopped himself. It occurred to him that what he had thought they were talking about, and what was actually being discussed were two different things. “Why do you need to see a lawyer in the morning?”

“Lorraine Eagleton came to the house this afternoon. She wants Michael.”

No relief came at the realization that they weren't speaking of divorce. There was no room for it. He recognized a flash of panic before fury replaced it. “She may as well want the moon, because she won't have that, either.” He reached out to touch a hand to her cheek. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I wasn't, but I am now. She's threatening a custody suit.”

“On what grounds?”

She pressed her lips together, but her gaze didn't waver. “On the grounds that I'm not fit to care for him. She told me she'll prove that I was . . . that there were other men before and during my marriage to Tony.”

“How can she prove what isn't true?”

So he believed in her. It was just that easy. Laura reached for his hand. “You can get people to do or say a great many things if you pay them enough. I've seen the Eagletons do that kind of thing before.”

“Did she tell you where she was staying?”

“Yes.”

“Then it's time I talked with her.”

“No.” She had his hand before he could stride from the room. “Please, I don't want you to see her yet. I need to talk with a lawyer first, make certain what can and can't be done. We can't afford the luxury of making a mistake in anger.”

“I don't need a lawyer to tell me she can't walk into my house and threaten to take Michael.”

“Gabe, please.” Again she had to stop him. When her fingers curled around his arms, she felt the fury vibrating in him. “Listen to me. You're angry. So was I, and frightened, too. My first impulse was to run again. I'd even started to pack.”

He thought of what it would have done to him to have come home to find the house empty. The score he had to settle with the Eagletons was getting bigger. “Why didn't you?”

“Because it wouldn't have been right, not for Michael, not for you or for me. Because I love both of you too much.”

He stopped and cupped her face in his hands, trying to read what was behind her eyes. “You wouldn't have gotten very far.”

The smile came slowly as she wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “I hope not. Gabe, I know what I have to do, and I also know that I can do it.”

He paused, taking it in. She spoke of love one moment, then of what she would do, not of what they would do. “Alone?”

“If necessary. I know you've taken Michael as your own, but I want you to understand that if she pursues the suit it's going to get ugly, and what's said about me will affect you and your family.” There was a moment's hesitation as she worked up the courage to give him a choice. “If you'd rather not be involved in what's going to happen now, I understand.”

His choices had narrowed from the moment he'd seen her. They'd disappeared completely when she'd first put Michael in his arms. Because he didn't know how to explain, he cut through to the bottom line.

“Where's Michael?”

Relief made her giddy. “He's with your mother.”

“Then let's pick him up and take him home.”

Chapter 11

She couldn't sleep. Both memory and imagination worked against Laura as her mind insisted on racing over what had happened, and what might happen the next day. It was almost a year since she had fled Boston. Now, thousands of miles away, she had chosen to take her stand. But she was no longer alone.

Gabe hadn't waited to make an appointment with his lawyer during regular business hours. He had made a phone call and requested—demanded—a meeting that evening.

Her life, her child, her marriage and her future had been discussed over coffee and crumb cake in the parlor while a low, wispy fog had rolled in from the bay. Her initial embarrassment about speaking with a stranger about her life, her first marriage and her mistakes had sharpened painfully, then vanished. It had seemed as though they were talking about someone else's experiences. The more openly it was discussed, with details meticulously examined and noted, the less shame she'd felt.

Matthew Quartermain had been the Bradleys' attorney for forty years. He was crusty and shrewd and, despite his stuffy exterior, not easily shocked. He'd nodded and made notes and asked questions until Laura's mouth had dried up from answering.

Because he hadn't sympathized or condemned, it had become easier to talk plainly. The truth, spoken in simple, unemotional terms, had been easier to face than it had to keep hidden. In the end she hadn't spared herself or Tony. And in the end she'd felt a powerful sense of having been cleansed.

At last she'd said it all, put all the misery and pain into words. She'd purged her heart and her mind in a way that her lingering sense of shame had never permitted before. Now that it was done, she understood what it was to wipe the slate clean and begin again.

Quartermain hadn't been happy with her final decision, but she'd been firm. Before papers of any kind were served or answered, she would see Lorraine again, face-to-face.

Beside Laura, Gabe lay sleepless. Like her, he was thinking back over the scene in the parlor. With every word that played back in his head his fury inched higher. She had spoken of things there that she had never told him, going into detail she had glossed over before. He'd thought he understood what she'd been through, and he'd thought his feelings about it had already peaked. He'd been wrong.

She hadn't told him about the black eye that had prevented her from leaving the house for nearly a week, or about Lorraine explaining away Laura's split lip by speaking of her daughter-in-law's clumsiness. She hadn't told him about the drunken attacks in the middle of the night, the jealous rages if she'd spoken with another man at a social function, the threats of revenge and violence when she'd finally found the courage to leave.

They'd come out tonight, in excruciating detail.

He hadn't touched her when they'd prepared for bed. He wondered how she could bear to be touched at all.

What she had been through was all too clear now. How could he expect her to put it aside, when he was no longer certain he could? No matter how gentle he was, how much care he took with her, the shadow of another man and another time was between them.

She'd said she loved him. As much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn't understand how anyone who had lived through that kind of hell could ever trust a man again, much less love him.

Gratitude, devotion, with Michael as the common ground. That he could understand. And that, Gabe thought as he lay in the dark, was more than many people were ever given.

He'd wanted more for them, had been on the verge of believing they could have more. That had been before all those words had been spoken downstairs while the quiet spring breeze had ruffled the curtains.

Then she turned toward him, her body brushing his. He stiffened.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No.” He started to shift so that they were no longer touching, but she moved again until her head rested on his shoulder.

The gesture, the easy, uncomplicated movement toward him, tore him in two. The one who needed, and the one who was afraid to ask.

“I can't sleep, either. I feel as though I've run an obstacle course, and my body's exhausted from it. But my mind keeps circling.”

“You should stop thinking about tomorrow.”

“I know.” Laura brushed her hair aside, then settled more comfortably. She felt the slight drawing away, the pulling back. With her eyes shut tight, she wondered if he thought less of her now that he knew everything.

“There's no need for you to worry. It's going to be all right.”

Was it? Taking a chance, she reached through the dark for his hand. “The trouble is, different scenes keep popping into my head. What I'll say, what she'll say. If I don't . . .” Her words trailed off when the baby started crying. “Sounds like someone else is restless.”

“I'll get him.”

Though she'd already tossed the covers aside, Laura nodded. “All right. I'll nurse him in here if he's hungry.”

She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest as Gabe tossed on a robe and strode to the nursery. A moment later the crying stopped, then started again. Under it, she could hear Gabe's voice, murmuring and soothing.

It was so easy for him, so natural. Sensitivity, tenderness, were as much a part of him as temper and arrogance. Wasn't that why she'd finally been able to admit that she loved him? There would be no cycle of despair, submission and terror with Gabe, as there had been with Tony. She could love him without giving up the pieces of herself that she'd so recently discovered.

No, he didn't think less of her. She couldn't be sure of all of his feelings, but she could be sure of that. It was just that he was as worried as she and felt obligated to pretend otherwise.

The light from the nursery slanted into the hallway. In it she could see Gabe's shadow as he moved. The crying became muffled, then rose in a wail. Recognizing the tone of the crying, Laura leaned back and shut her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

“Teething,” she murmured when Gabe brought a sobbing Michael into the bedroom. Switching on the bedside lamp she smiled at him. All of them needed support tonight. “I'll nurse him and see if that helps any.”

“There you go, old man. Best seat in the house.” Gabe settled him in Laura's arms. The crying faded to a whimper, then disappeared completely as he suckled. “I'm going down for a brandy. Do you want anything?”

“No. Yes, some juice. Whatever's in there.”

Alone, she held Michael with one arm and arranged her pillows behind her back with the other. It seemed so normal, so usual, just like any other night. Though there were nights when Michael was restless when her body craved sleep, there were others when she prized these hours in the middle of the night. These were the times she and Gabe would remember years down the road, when Michael took his first steps, when he started school, when he rode a two-wheeler for the first time. They'd look back and remember how they'd walked the floor, half dozing themselves. Nothing could change that.

They needed this, needed the normalcy of it. And, if only for a few hours, they would have it.

When Gabe came back in, he set her glass on the table beside her. Smiling, she lifted a hand to his arm. “Can I smell your brandy?”

Amused, he tilted the snifter for her and let her draw in the scent. “Enough?”

“Thanks. I always loved the taste of brandy late at night.” Lifting her juice glass, she clinked it against his snifter. “Cheers.” He didn't join her in bed, as she'd hoped he would, but turned to stand by the window. “Gabe?”

“Yes?”

“I'd like to make a deal with you. You tell me what's on your mind, ask any question you need to ask, and I'll tell you the absolute truth. Then, in return, I'll ask you and you'll do the same.”

“Haven't you answered enough questions for one night?”

So that was it. Laura set her glass aside before she gently shifted Michael to her other breast. “You're upset because of the things I told Mr. Quartermain.”

“Did you expect I would take them with a shrug?” When he whirled, the brandy sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the snifter. Laura said nothing as he tossed back half the contents and began to pace.

“I'm sorry it had to be brought up. I'd have preferred another way myself.”

“It's not a matter of its being brought up.” The words lashed out. He drank more brandy, but it did nothing to soothe him. “My God, it's killing me to think of it, to imagine it. I'm afraid to touch you, because it might bring it back.”

“Gabe, you've been telling me all along that it's over, that things are different now. I know they are. You were right when you said I compared you with Tony, but maybe you don't understand that by doing that I helped myself realize that things could change.”

He looked at her then, only for a moment, but long enough for her to see that her words weren't enough, not yet. “Things are different now, but I wonder why you don't hate any man who puts his hands on you.”

“There was a time when I wouldn't have let any man within ten feet of me, but I was able to start putting things in perspective, through therapy, listening to other women who'd pulled themselves out of the spin.” She watched him as he stood in the shadow, his hands thrust in the pockets of his robe and clenched into fists. “When you touch me, when you hold me, it doesn't bring any of that back. It makes me feel the way I've always wanted to feel about myself, about my husband.”

“If he were alive,” Gabe said evenly, “I'd want to kill him. I find myself resenting the fact that he's already dead.”

“Don't do that to yourself.” She reached out a hand to him, but he shook his head and walked back to the window. “He was ill. I didn't know that then, not really. And I prolonged it all by not walking away.”

“You were afraid. You had nowhere to go.”

“That's not enough. I could have gone to Geoffrey. I knew he would have helped me, but I didn't go, because I was pinned there by my own shame and insecurities. When I finally did leave, it was because of the baby. That's when I began to get well myself. Finding you was the best medicine of all, because you made me feel like a woman again.”

He remained silent while she searched for the right words. “Gabe, there's nothing either of us can do to change things that have already happened. Don't let it change what we have now.”

Calmer now, he swirled his brandy and continued to look out of the window. “When you talked of lawyers in the gallery today, I thought you wanted a divorce. It scared me to death.”

“But I wouldn't have— Did it?”

“There you were, standing under the portrait, and I couldn't imagine what I would do if you walked away. I may have changed your life, angel, but no more than you've changed mine.”

Pygmalion, she thought. If he loved the image, he might eventually love the woman. “I won't walk away. I love you, Gabe. You and Michael are my whole life.”

He came to her then, to sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. “I won't let anyone hurt either one of you.”

Her fingers tightened on his. “I need to know that whatever we have to do we'll do it together.”

“We've been in this together right from the start.” Leaning forward, he kissed her, while the baby dozed between them. “I need you, Laura, maybe too much.”

“It can't be too much.”

“Let me go put him down,” Gabe murmured. “Then maybe we can continue that.”

He took the baby, but the moment he eased off the bed Michael began to cry.

They took turns walking, rocking, rubbing tender gums. Each time Michael was laid back in his crib he woke with a wail. Dizzy with fatigue, Laura leaned over the rail, patting and rubbing his back. Each time she moved her hand away he cried again.

“I guess we're spoiling him,” she murmured.

Gabe sat heavy-eyed in the rocking chair and watched her. “We're entitled. Besides, he sleeps like a rock most of the time.”

“I know. This teething's got him down. Why don't you go to bed? There's no sense in both of us being up.”

“It's my shift.” He rose and discovered that at 5:00 a.m. the body could feel decades older than it was. “You go on to bed.”

“No—” Her own yawn cut her off. “We're in this together, remember?”

“Or until one of us passes out.”

She would have laughed if she had had the energy. “Maybe I'll just sit down.”

“You know, I've been known to watch the sun come up after a night of drinking, card playing or . . . other forms of entertainment.” He began to pat Michael's back as Laura collapsed in the rocker. “And I can't remember ever feeling as though someone had run over me with a truck.”

“This is one of the joys of parenting,” she told him as she curled her legs under her and shut her eyes. “We're actually having the time of our lives.”

“I'm glad you let me know. I think he's giving in.”

“That's because you have such a wonderful touch,” she murmured as she drifted off. “Such a wonderful touch.”

Inch by cautious inch, Gabe drew his hand away. A man backing away from a tiger couldn't have taken more care. When he was a full two feet from the crib, he nearly let out a breath of relief. Afraid to push his luck, he held it and turned to Laura.

She was sound asleep, in an impossibly uncomfortable position. Hoping his energy held out for five minutes longer, Gabe walked over to pick her up. She shifted and cuddled against him instinctively. As he carried her from the room, she roused enough to murmur. “Michael?”

“Down for the count.” He walked into their room, but rather than taking her to bed he moved to the window. “Look, the sun's coming up.”

Laura stirred and opened her eyes. Through the window she could see the curve of the eastern sky. If she looked hard enough she could see the water of the bay, like a mist in the distance. The sun seemed to vibrate as it rose. And the echoes brought colors: pinks, mauves, golds. Softly at first, with the darker night sky still dominating above, the colors spread, then, deepened. Pinks became reds, vibrant and glowing.