Page 41 of The Forsaken
“Once you entered the system, no one would tell me anything. I wasn’t a relative and had no legal right to any information. I checked the papers for years, hoping for a mention of your case, but there was never anything. I must admit that I assumed you two would have been kept together, given the circumstances.”
“You never saw an obituary for a baby named Quentin?” Quinn asked, holding her breath until the reverend shook his head.
“No. Never. The case worker assured me the baby would be all right. I had no reason to doubt her word.”
“Quinn, would you like a moment alone?” Rhys asked gently.
“Please,” Quinn muttered.
“Come, Reverend, I’ll walk you out. We’ll talk again soon. Would it be all right if Quinn contacted you should she need any further information?” Rhys asked.
“Of course. Anytime. And, Quinn, if you wish to talk, I’ll be in London for another week. I’d be happy to meet you anywhere you like.”
“Thank you, Reverend. That’s very kind.”
Quinn buried her head in her hands as soon as Rhys and the reverend left the office. She was shaking all over and could feel an angry flush spreading from her chest up to her neck and face. Her cheeks were flaming. Her heart was galloping like a terrified horse and she was short of breath.
“Do you have your heart-pressure medication?” Rhys asked as soon as he came back into the office.
Quinn nodded but didn’t have the strength to find it. Rhys unceremoniously dumped the contents of her bag onto his desk and found the bottle. He checked the dosage, then took out a tablet and held it out to Quinn. She obediently took the medicine and drank the rest of the water, but it would take at least a quarter of an hour for the drug to take effect.
“You need to lie down,” Rhys said, taking control. He led Quinn over to his sofa and made sure she was comfortable. “All right?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“I’m calling Gabe.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Gabe rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. His head was pounding and he could use a stiff drink to calm his nerves, but it was past midnight and he’d be better off going to bed, if he could manage to relax enough to fall asleep. Quinn had finally dozed off, but her eyelids fluttered as if she were having a bad dream and she was whimpering in her sleep. Gabe could make out the tear tracks on her cheeks in the silvery moonlight. Her belly shivered like shifting sands, the baby now wide awake when its mother needed rest.
The news about Quinn’s twin couldn’t have come at a worse time, and Gabe felt a renewed burst of anger toward Sylvia. Would this never end? The woman had misled Quinn time and again, and still there were more secrets and lies. Gabe fervently wished Sylvia had never found Quinn. Quinn would have always wondered about her birth parents, as many adopted children did, but she wouldn’t have had to deal with all the heartache and disillusionment meeting Sylvia had brought into her life.
Quinn refused to condemn Sylvia without first confronting her, but Gabe’s mind was made up. Sylvia was poison, and he would do anything to keep Quinn from meeting with her. Of course, Quinn had a right to know the truth, but her blood pressure had been dangerously elevated when he’d fetched her from Rhys’s office, and she’d been pale and shaky. Gabe had asked Brenda McGann to collect Emma from school and take her out for pizza to give him time to calm Quinn down and talk the situation through.
He’d meant to argue his case against Sylvia, but Quinn had been so distressed that he’d simply held her and let her cry until she’d eventually exhausted herself enough to allow him to make her some chamomile tea and draw her a warm bath. The bath had helped somewhat, but as soon as Quinn had toweled herself dry and climbed into bed, the tears had begun anew. The revelation that Sylvia had repeatedly lied to her and that she had a twin sister out there was simply too much for Quinn to absorb, and she’dreturned to the same questions again and again, unable to make sense of the situation.
The conversation would resume as soon as Quinn opened her eyes in the morning, and Gabe needed to figure out a plan for Quinn to get her answers but suffer no ill effects. Easier said than done. Gabe almost wished he could confront Sylvia himself, but it wasn’t his place, nor would he have enough self-control not to wring the woman’s neck. Perhaps he could ask Logan to mediate. Logan’s presence might keep the conversation between Sylvia and Quinn from escalating into nuclear warfare, but it didn’t seem fair to bring him into it. Sylvia was Logan’s mother, and he didn’t need to be confronted with these terrible secrets from her past.
Gabe sighed and went to check on Emma, who was sleeping fitfully, Mr. Rabbit clutched in her hand. She always sensed when something was wrong, and began to fret, terrified that the new development would somehow destroy her happy home. Poor child. She’d been through so much already. She didn’t need this additional stress when she was about to start at a new school and share her parents with a new sibling. That was enough for any small child to deal with. Gabe tucked the duvet tighter around Emma’s shoulders and left the room on silent feet. She was a light sleeper and, once woken, would take hours to go back to sleep.
Gabe got into bed, folded his hands behind his head, and stared up at the murky white ceiling. Preventing Quinn from confronting Sylvia would take an act of God. He couldn’t keep that conversation from taking place, but perhaps he could offer Quinn a distraction before the epic confrontation. He’d fetch the sword back from the institute in the morning and let Quinn have a go. The distraction would help—he hoped.
TWENTY-SIX
APRIL 1461
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Guy came awake slowly, his lids fluttering like the wings of a butterfly before finally opening all the way. He’d been sleeping a lot, since there wasn’t much else he could do in his weakened state. His arm still felt like a fallen log, and he experienced excruciating pain every time he tried to move it. This made everyday tasks difficult. Even eating had become a challenge, since he couldn’t cut his meat with his left hand. Walter had to cut up the meat for him, like he would for a small child. Nurse had helped him bathe the day before. She was the only person in his life in front of whom he could never be embarrassed. She loved him for who he was, and had done so since he was an infant. Nurse was the closest thing he had to a mother, and although he’d never admit it to Hugh, he cherished her as he would a beloved parent.
Guy glanced toward the window to gauge the time. He was hungry, so it had to be getting close to suppertime. He also needed to piss, so he carefully slid off the bed and used his foot to slide the chamber pot from beneath the bed. After relieving himself, he congratulated himself on completing this important task on his own, and lay back down. He felt lightheaded and weak after standing for less than a minute.
When Walter quietly opened the door and peeked inside, Guy beckoned him to come in.
“Just checking if you’re awake, sir,” Walter said as he advanced into the room with a laden wooden tray. “With Cook’s compliments,” he added impishly.
“Pour me some wine, Walter. I’m thirsty.”
