Page 32 of The Forgotten
“Gabriel, when you have a baby, it should be a joyful event for you both, not something to be juggled along with everything else you have going on in your life at the moment. Right now, you need to focus on your daughter. You need to work out the delicate balance between bride and child before you add another child into the mix.”
“What makes you think there’ll be another child?” Gabe asked, coloring slightly. He still felt awkward discussing his sex life with his mother, but Phoebe’s matter-of-fact tone made it easier to believe that they were just two adults discussing a run-of-the-mill matter.
“Being in love generally leads to babies,” Phoebe said with a smile. “Especially when you are too distracted to think about practicalities,” she added meaningfully, making Gabe groan as he rolled his eyes in mock horror.
“Listen to your mother. I know a thing or two about life,” Phoebe said, hands on hips.
“Mum, how did you get to be so wise?” Gabe asked as he tried to keep the grin off his face.
“I don’t know. It’s a gift,” Phoebe joked, making Gabe chuckle. It was nice to see him laugh. “Does this mean I’ve helped?” Phoebe asked.
Gabe nodded, smiling into her eyes. “Yes, Mum, you’ve hit the nail on the head, as you always do. I never realized that loving someone so completely leaves you so vulnerable. I keep thinking of all the things that can go wrong, and I’m paralyzed with fear, terrified that I won’t be able to fix it.”
“Something happened with Quinn while you were in Scotland, didn’t it?” Phoebe asked. Gabe paled visibly, so she waved her hand, dismissing the question. She no longer required an answer; Gabe’s reaction was enough.
“Son, go upstairs and spend some time with your fiancée. We’ll look after Emma. Show Quinn some affection, but remember what I said,” Phoebe said, giving Gabe a stern look.
“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe chuckled. “No more grandchildren for you.”
“Let me enjoy this one first,” Phoebe said as she rose to her feet. “I think I’ll join them outside. They’re having way too much fun without me.”
THIRTY-ONE
Quinn left her case by the door, shrugged off her coat, and walked straight to the sink to fill the kettle. She was desperate for a cup of tea after the long drive. Quinn set the kettle on the hob and looked in the fridge. The milk had gone bad, so she poured it down the sink. She’d drink the tea black. Quinn opened the kitchen cupboard and had a quick rummage. A couple of biscuits would have been nice, but the ones she found had gone stale, so she tossed them into the rubbish bin, annoyed with herself for not thinking ahead. She should have asked Gabe to stop at the petrol station where she could have stocked up on milk, a packet of fresh biscuits, and a newspaper. Gabe always read the news online, but at times, Quinn liked to sit down with a newspaper, the way her father used to do every day after work, a cup of tea at his elbow. He used to read interesting bits out loud to her mum while she prepared supper.
Quinn’s stomach growled with hunger. She hadn’t eaten anything since the full English Phoebe had made for them before they left, and she needed something to pick on. There was some pasta in the cupboard and a hunk of Parmesan cheese in the fridge. That would have to do. Quinn set the water to boil for the pasta and poured herself a cup of tea. She’d missed her little chapel. Not many people would enjoy living in a refurbished church, but Quinn loved its aura of serenity. It enveloped her every time she came home, like a balm to the soul, and she welcomed its peace and drew strength from the very walls, where so many had prayed and shared their hopes and dreams. The house was blissfully quiet, but cold.
Quinn set aside her tea and took out a box of matches, lighting the kindling, which was already in the hearth. The flame flickered and sputtered but eventually came to life, the logs slowly catching fire and the room filling with the pleasant smell of burning wood. The chapel didn’t have central heating, so the fire was a necessity as well as a luxury. The room began to slowly warm up. Quinn drained the pasta, dumped it into a bowl, and grated some cheese over it. She took her meal to the sofa and got comfortable in front of the fire, debating if she should have a glass of wine to go with her meal but deciding against it. She glanced at the clock. Gabe would be close to home by now. She hoped he’d pick up a takeaway for himself, since his refrigerator was probably even emptier than hers. Gabe got grumpy when he was hungry, she remembered with an affectionate smile.
Gabe had dropped her off at home on his way to London. He would have stayed the night, but he had to be in London first thing in the morning to prepare for a departmental meeting that was scheduled for nine o’clock. Quinn supposed she could have gone with him, but she’d meet him in London tomorrow instead. She needed a day to herself, and Gabe understood. Perhaps he needed a little time to himself as well to make sense of the past few weeks and come to terms with the drastic changes that rocked his well-ordered life to the core.
Leaving Emma with Phoebe and Graeme for a few days had been a good idea. Emma took to her grandparents instantly, and the presence of Buster, who was as cute as a puppy could be, helped a great deal. There was much to be done over the next few days, and Gabe would need Quinn’s help, which she was more than happy to offer. Organizing the life of a little girl was like planning a trip to the moon as far as Gabe was concerned, and although he was usually very good with practicalities, in this case, he was completely out of his depth.
Quinn took her empty bowl to the sink and refreshed her tea before going back to the sofa where she curled her legs beneath her and leaned her head against the back of the sofa. Despite the welcoming peace of home, her feelings were in turmoil, and the messages from Rhys and Dr. Scott hadn’t helped. Rhys threatened to sue her for breach of contract if she didn’t present herself at his office on Friday, and Colin said that he had something to share with her and asked if they could meet at her earliest convenience. Quinn had overnighted the plaster from Robert Chatham’s room to Dr. Scott, so it was possible that he had the results already. Quinn wasn’t quite sure that she was ready to deal with the outcome.
Now that she’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting Robert Chatham, she realized that had Rhys proved to be her father, she would not have been devastated. There was no excuse for what Rhys had done in his youth, but he’d regretted his actions and tried to atone for them in his own way. Rhys would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her, and she would let him. Robert Chatham, on the other hand, was a totally different entity. He was a born leader, a man who could easily get others to do his bidding. Quinn could see how Rhys would have been bullied into taking part. He’d been insecure and sensitive, something his friends would have used against him. Chatham probably did not regret a single thing he’d ever done, and even if he learned of the consequences of that night, he wouldn’t have cared.
There was a time when Quinn thought that not knowing who her parents were was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but now she knew better. She was coming round to the idea of having Sylvia in her life, but if Chatham was her father, she’d never share that with him. The man was hateful. Quinn could still feel his lips on her neck and his hand between her legs. The memory of those moments made her shudder with disgust. Even if they weren’t related, his touch made her feel violated andthreatened. He was a brutal man, a bully who took what he wanted. Of course, she’d intentionally put herself in his path and went to his room knowing full well what he expected, but a woman still had the prerogative to change her mind. Chatham wouldn’t have allowed her that. He would have forced her, and not felt an ounce of remorse after the fact.
Quinn set aside her mug and practically ran toward the bathroom. She’d taken numerous showers since that night, but she still felt dirty. She turned on the taps and added some scented oil to the bathwater. A nice soak would help her relax and perhaps wash away the memory of Chatham’s hands on her body. She stripped off her clothes and climbed into the tub, resting her head against the porcelain as the hot water lapped over her breasts. She’d hoped to feel peaceful but suddenly experienced a wave of loneliness. She missed Gabe and Emma. She’d known the little girl for just over a week but found herself longing for the sound of her voice and the peal of her laughter. Quinn smiled as she closed her eyes. Despite everything, they were becoming a family, and it hadn’t been as difficult as she might have expected. She wondered if her own parents felt the same when she came into their lives.
Quinn extended her hand from the tub and reached for her phone. She had an overwhelming desire to speak to her parents, to hear their voices and share her news. Perhaps she would have told them sooner had they still been in England, but they’d retired to Spain several years ago, and although they spoke every day, the closeness they’d enjoyed her whole life had suffered. Her parents had a new life, which they were enjoying immensely, and Quinn no longer felt the urgent need to share news with them as soon as something happened. Perhaps that was a side effect of growing up, or maybe now she had more to hide. It’d taken her months to tell her parents about Sylvia. She meant to tell them right away, but somehow every time she heard her mother’s voice on the phone,she simply couldn’t bring herself to shatter her sense of security. To tell her that the birth mother of whom she’d dreamed ever since she was a little girl had shown up on her doorstep and that her father was a rapist would not be something that would sit well with the Allenbys. And then, of course, there was Emma.
Quinn’s parents adored Gabe and had been thrilled to hear that they were planning a future together, but to suddenly announce that Gabe had a four-year-old child he’d known nothing about would not endear Gabe to them. Her parents would raise all kinds of objections, mostly to protect Quinn, but also because deep down they still had a rather old-fashioned set of values. Gabe would be forever tarnished in their eyes, and that was something Quinn wished to avoid. But she’d waited long enough. Her parents had a right to know, come what may. Quinn dialed her mum’s number and waited for her to answer. As the phone rang, she smiled wryly, imagining that the apprehension she felt was something akin to waiting for the guillotine to drop. The call went into voicemail and Quinn exhaled in relief. She was reprieved for one more day.
THIRTY-TWO
FEBRUARY 1347
Dunwich, Suffolk
Petra pulled on her hood and wrapped the folds of her cloak tighter about her body, but the wind still sliced through her, making her shiver. She couldn’t see the sea, but she could hear it. It was like a living, breathing thing lurking in the shadows. On some days, it was mellow and compliant, and on others, it was vicious and cruel, ready to pounce and devour everything in sight. The waves crashed against the shore with unrestrained brutality, making the ships at anchor bob on the water like flotsam, the light from the lanterns on deck rising and falling like a secret signal.
Petra had always disliked this time of year, when the night was so much longer than the day. When Cyril was still alive, she was busy from dawn till dusk, but at least she got to see the sun while she went about her chores. Now she arrived at Lady Blythe’s just after sunrise and left well after sunset. The only daylight she saw was through the window on the landing or when Lady Blythe sent her out to buy some fish for her supper. Petra savored those moments of freedom and took as long as she could despite the cold that left her feet and hands numb. Perhaps tomorrow, she’d offer to run an errand for the old lady, or she’d go mad. She hadn’t been out in days and hadn’t had any time off since Candlemas, the memory of which still made her shudder.
Thomas hadn’t mentioned the incident with Edwin, but a kind of kinship sprang up between them. He saw himself as her protector, her knight, and she was his chosen lady. Thomas wassolicitous of her, even in front of his mother, and sought Petra out whenever he was at home. Twice this past week, Thomas had invited her to share a cup of hippocras with him before she left for the day, and Petra was too timid to refuse, despite the fact that she was tired and wished only to go home. Thomas behaved as if things were settled between them, but Petra had never given her consent.
Oh, she knew she was being foolish, and she should seize this opportunity before Thomas came to his senses and changed his mind, but some small part of her refused to yield. Had she not seen Avery, spoken to him, and told him of Edwin, she would have thanked her lucky stars for having a man like Lord Devon pay court to her, but although her sensible side knew what must be done, her heart just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t comply. Avery was no more hers for the taking than he had been twelve years ago, but she couldn’t accept that after having found him again. Her soul ached for him, as did her body. After years of being dormant, like a bear in its den, her desire had come awake, yearning for a man’s touch.
