Page 23 of The Forbidden

I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that fact all day and now I’m about to come face-to-face with the man who is plaguing my thoughts both day and night.

A wooden staircase leads up to my apartment door and we can hear Gabe running up it, most likely to avoid the steady fall of rain. Sylvie is there to greet him and I hate that he looks so damn good as he steps in after shaking off his umbrella.

I truly never gave Gabe Mardraggon much of a second look during childhood and our adolescent years. Our families would run into one another at various occasions, my brothers played football and baseball against him, and Shelbyville is so small, we’d sometimes have occasion to meet on the streets. It wasn’t until Gabe sat beside me that day in math class and offered to tutor me that I let myself see past the ingrained hate.

Allowed myself to appreciate how tall and muscular he was. The way his dark gold hair and molten amber eyes seemed brilliantly kissed by the sun and made him appear godlike. The way other women tried to catch his attention and other men tried to emulate him. Yes, he had gobs of money and dressed in the best clothes and drove the fanciest cars, but it was the way he listened to me that really had me looking at him differently. Our tutoring sessions were legit and he helped me tremendously, but we spent a lot of time talking about things other than math.

I got to know who I thought was the real Gabe Mardraggon and God help me, I was attracted to every inch of him. It wasn’t long before I cared so deeply for him, I couldn’t imagine a life without him by my side.

Even now, dressed in a polo shirt and dark jeans, he exudes wealth, confidence and sex appeal. His eyes briefly land on me but the stare is broken when Sylvie flings herself into his arms with enough force he stumbles back, a laugh rumbling from him.

I wince, hearing that sound. Unrestrained and joyful, deep and resonant, it fills the room with its warmth. It’s genuine and a potent reminder there’s a real man under the veneer of wealth and selfishness.

“Uncle Gabe,” Sylvie gushes, pulling him inside by the hand. “I’m so glad you came over.”

She hugs him again and it’s then that I notice he’s holding several bags in one hand and can’t really reciprocate. I lunge forward, grabbing the bags from him as he lets his briefcase slide off his shoulder. “Here… let me take those.”

Gabe doesn’t look at me but the way his eyes light up when he’s able to wrap his niece in a hug tells me she’s extremely important to him. She’s not a means to a winery and he’s not acting out of intense guilt. He loves her. It’s that simple.

“I brought you some presents,” Gabe says, and Sylvie pulls back, her eyes sparkling. He nods at the bags in my hand but says, “First, catch me up on how school has been.”

I’m stunned as the two talk, Sylvie having led him over to the couch. I set the bags down on the floor next to them and move into the kitchen to start prepping dinner. Sylvie is going back to the main house to eat with the family but Gabe is staying here to give me a winery 101 lesson. I hadn’t invited him for dinner nor does he have expectations I’ll feed him, but I’m hungry after a long day of working and have more work to do with Gabe after Sylvie leaves. I intend to eat so it’s just as easy to make enough for two.

I listen intently as Gabe asks Sylvie thoughtful questions about her understanding of math concepts, how her opinion writing is progressing—not even sure what that means—and even discusses world events that he’s clearly taught her about in the past. The conversation doesn’t lag and I can see that Sylvie is not only completely comfortable in his presence, she respects him. More than anything, I note that Gabe provides something for her none of us Blackburns can.

Within the ease of Sylvie’s smile and her obvious connection on a familial level, Gabe is healing the wounds that Lionel wrought. He’s validating to his niece that there is good in the Mardraggon blood and conversely, there is nothing bad in her.

Tears prick my eyes at the revelation and I don’t even try to dismiss it as bogus. My brothers, my sister and my parents all have their misgivings about Gabriel Mardraggon but they don’t know that I’ve observed the goodness in him before.

Just as I know inside lurks the potential for harm.

The difference between my experience and Sylvie’s, however, lies in the fact that he loves her probably more than anything in this world. No matter what Gabe and I had, it was never real love, as proven by how easily he abandoned the ideals we were striving for.

As I put together a cold grilled chicken salad, I continue to listen to the interplay between uncle and niece. My ears tune sharp though, when Sylvie says, “I have something important to ask you and I’m nervous about it.”

My hands still on the strips of chicken I’m dicing, my head turning slightly their way. Gabe is on one end of the couch facing her, his arm draped casually over the back. Sylvie is on the middle cushion, head bowed and black hair hiding her face.

“You can tell me anything, squirt. You know that.” Though his words are light and encouraging, I see the distress in his eyes. It clears when she lifts her gaze to him and he smiles at her.

“My birth certificate has Mardraggon as my last name. Originally, it didn’t list my dad as my father. Now it’s been added, but my last name has stayed the same.” Her words trail off and I see where she’s going with this.

Gabe does too and his smile softens with understanding. “You want to change your last name to Blackburn.”

She nods, head ducking again and voice small. “I talked to my dad about it and he said that would not be a problem, but I wanted to let you know.” She takes a deep breath, perhaps garnering courage, and lifts her eyes back to the one person who might be hurt over this. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Hand lifting from the back of the couch, Gabe tugs playfully on Sylvie’s hair in an attempt to lighten things. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because…” She fumbles for the right words but gets them out in a mad rush, indicating to me that she’s been practicing. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m trying to erase my mom by giving up her last name.”

“Oh, honey,” Gabe murmurs, his hand going to her shoulder for a gentle squeeze. “You couldn’t erase your mother if you tried. I see so much of her in you and that will never change. Mardraggon is just a last name, but I do understand that it’s a name that will never inspire pride or represent love to you, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Sylvie shakes her head. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“I’m sorry it’s making you feel bad about yourself and I think it’s a brilliant idea for you to change your last name to Blackburn. Your mother wanted you to be with Ethan, and I have to believe that means she’d want you to share his last name too.”

Sylvie’s eyes round with pure desire to believe those words. “Really?”

“Really,” he assures her. “You get your father working on that as fast as possible, okay?”

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