Page 81 of The Unforgiven
“He’ll know nothing, unless you tells him. Give him his own baby, and he’ll love you for it.”
“My head hurts,” Madeline said. “I need to lie down.”
“You go. I’ll wait for Joe.”
Madeline went inside and stared at the cot with fresh eyes. Her mother had likely been conceived in that bed. It was an odd thing, knowing that. Madeline lay down and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. She understood now why no one had told her the truth and why Sybil could barely look at her. Would Sybil be capable of loving Madeline’s baby, a child born of a mother conceived in incest and a father who was the mother’s first cousin?
Madeline laid her hand on her stomach and felt a flutter of movement. What a heavy burden for a child to carry. Perhaps Mammy was right and she should just leave and allow her baby to grow up in security and comfort. It would never learn the truth, and the sordid details would die with Mammy and Sybil. She owed her child that much. She owed it freedom from shame.
FORTY-ONE
MAY 2014
New Orleans, Louisiana
Quinn stepped out onto the wrought iron balcony. The French Quarter pulsed with life, as crowded with locals and tourists as the City of Westminster on an average day. The day’s balminess had dissipated, replaced by a comfortable coolness. Quinn leaned against the railing and inhaled the fragrant air of the Southern night. She heard distant music and bursts of laughter as a group of people walked by, the women teetering tipsily on high heels and responding playfully to their men, who were teasing them. One of the men grabbed a woman around the waist and pulled her close, planting a passionate kiss on her lips as she melted into him, clearly eager for more. Quinn looked away, surprised by the twinge of envy in her gut.
She’d traveled for work many times, had been away from her parents, partner, and friends, but this was the first time she’d felt such desolation. It wasn’t just being away from Gabe; it was being here, in this place. Something about it disturbed her, challenged her, and left her reeling. She wasn’t alone, but she felt emotionally adrift and completely out of her element. For years, she’d wanted to know the truth about her lineage, her family, but now that she knew where she’d come from, she felt nothing but anger and sadness.
Did every family have buried secrets? Did every family try to hide that which they thought shameful or unpleasant? She supposed they did, but it angered her that her father and brother had no idea they were descended from a slave woman captured in Trinidad. Madeline, their link to the past, had been erased, forgotten, discarded after her child had been taken from her. Quinn knew what had happened to the child, but she still had no clue what had happened to Madeline, who’d been only sixteen when thechild was born. She’d had her whole life ahead of her. What had she done with it?
“I hope you found happiness, Maddy,” Quinn whispered into the night. But no one answered. No whisper on the wind told her what she longed to know and was afraid to find out.
Quinn glanced at her watch. She desperately needed to hear Gabe’s voice, to share what she’d learned with him, but she couldn’t possibly call him now. It was just past two in the morning in London, and her call would wake Emma, a light sleeper at the best of times.
Quinn imagined Emma curled up in her bed, Mr. Rabbit clutched in her arms. She still had frequent dreams about her mother and grandmother and often woke up crying. She loved Gabe, but when she missed her mother, she turned to Quinn, the closest thing she had to a mother. It surprised Quinn to realize she missed Emma as much as she missed Gabe. A few months ago, she’d still secretly thought of Emma as Gabe’s daughter, but now she thought of Emma as her own child and wanted to be her mother. Quinn knew that Gabe worried about how Emma would react to the new baby. She might be thrilled to have a brother or a sister, or she might feel resentful and displaced in the affections of her parents. That was normal, even with children who hadn’t lost a parent.
I’ll do something special with Emma when I get back, Quinn thought as she stepped back inside the room and locked the door to the balcony.We’ll have some mother-daughter time and do fun, girly things.
Imagining all the things they could do together made Quinn less lonely, but she still needed to talk to someone. What she’d learned in her last vision was too big and shocking to keep to herself even a moment longer. She couldn’t possibly share her discovery with Seth or Brett, and the only other person she could think of was Rhys. He might still be awake, but even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t mind being woken for a good story. Rhys’s passion in life was to tell the best story he could, in the most eloquent way,and he would welcome the middle-of-the-night call, even if he pretended to be grumpy at first.
Funny, but being away from home made Quinn feel closer to Rhys. She’d blamed him for what had happened to Sylvia and held him to account, but somehow she couldn’t muster the same amount of resentment for the man who had fathered her. Perhaps it was time to let Rhys off the hook; Sylvia had, and Quinn had no desire to hold on to her anger.
Even after speaking to all three culprits who had been there the night she was conceived, Quinn was still no closer to the truth. Sylvia stood by her story. Rhys appeared to be contrite and was working hard to make amends. Robert Chatham was defiant, but there was a hint of truth to his account, despite his aggressive, bullying manner. And then there was Seth, who claimed to have no recollection of that night at all. Perhaps it was easier for him to pretend it had never happened, but Quinn knew him well enough now to believe he was telling the truth. So she still didn’t know with any certainty whether she’d been conceived during an act of violence or if she was simply the result of an alcohol-soaked orgy in which her mother had been a somewhat willing participant. Whichever it was, it was time to move forward and forgive the guilty parties, one of which was her boss.
“This better be good, Quinn,” Rhys growled when he answered his mobile.
“It is. I’m sorry to disturb you, but this simply couldn’t wait.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Rhys replied. “I just came back from Sylvia’s. She was upset.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Quinn demanded. Rhys sounded more annoyed than worried, so it couldn’t have been anything catastrophic.
“Jude buggered off. He had a run-in with Gabe and took off. Sylvia thinks he’s using again. Personally, I don’t think heever stopped. Logan’s been trying to get him into rehab for months.”
“How do you know all this?” Quinn asked. She had no idea Rhys had grown so close to Sylvia’s family.
“Quinn, there’s something I have to tell you, and I hope you won’t take issue with it. Sylvia and I are seeing each other. I know it’s the last thing you might have expected, given our history, but there’s something there—a connection, if you will, and we both want to explore it further.”
“Rhys, the only thing I find shocking about your revelation is that you’re actually interested in a woman your own age,” Quinn joked.
Rhys laughed. “I know. I’m still recovering from the shock myself. I like her, Quinn. She understands me, and I can talk to her as an equal. It’s refreshing.”
“I’m happy for you both. Truly.” Quinn smiled as she pictured the two of them together, but her smile faded as Rhys’s words sank in. “Why did Jude have a run-in with Gabe? What could they possibly have to argue about?” She had a sinking feeling in her gut. Gabe didn’t get worked up often, but when he did, it was usually for a good reason, and the only thing connecting Gabe to Jude was Emma, since she’d stayed at Sylvia’s while Gabe was in Northumberland.
“It was nothing, Quinn. Just a misunderstanding.”
“It had to be more than that if Jude took off,” Quinn mused. “Did he leave because of Gabe?”
