Page 19 of The Unseen
“Now I feel like an insensitive clod.” Gabe carefully shifted as Alex’s little body grew heavier in sleep.
“Gabe, you’re a wonderful husband. You’re so much more understanding and helpful than your father ever was. Just don’t take it for granted that Quinn is all right. Talk to her. Help her. She’s going through a lot, especially now.”
“You mean Quentin? Quinn spent decades fantasizing about finding her family, and now that she has, she’s had nothing but heartache and disappointment,” Gabe said, angry on Quinn’s behalf.
“I don’t know if I agree with that.”
“No?”
“Gabe, no family is perfect. Of course, Quinn imagined the best possible version of her parents and possible siblings. Reality takes some getting used to, especially since she was blessed enough to grow up in a family where she was loved and cared for. Seth is a good man. He’s straightforward, solid, and seems to genuinely care for Quinn. I see a long-lasting relationship blossoming between those two. And Logan has been wonderful. He’s a good boy.”
“What about the rest of them?” Gabe asked snidely. “It’s not every day your brother locks you in a cemetery vault and leaves you to die.”
“What happened in New Orleans was regrettable, and I’m sure Quinn will carry the emotional scars of that betrayal for therest of her days, but her relationship with the others can still improve.”
“Mum, Sylvia is emotionally unavailable at best, a compulsive liar at worst, and Jude is a tragedy waiting to happen.”
“Maybe so, but tragedies happen in all families. And as for Sylvia, well, you have to try to understand where she’s coming from.”
“And where is that?”
“Her mother left her at a time when she needed her most. The teenage years are difficult for a girl. Sylvia must have felt abandoned and emotionally adrift, and likely tried to find what she was missing in other ways. Instead, she wound up getting pregnant and having twins, one of them seriously ill, without the support of her family or the children’s father. She was seventeen, Gabe. Only twelve years older than Emma.”
“Mum, how can you compare?”
“Do you think Emma might not have gone off the rails had Jenna died when Emma was older? She was very lucky to have you and Quinn to love her and look after her, but things might have been very different. She might have ended up in foster care, or with someone who couldn’t cope with her emotional needs.”
“How is it that you see all these things and I don’t?” Gabe asked, smiling in the dark. “You’re incredibly astute.”
“When you look at things from the perspective of old age, you see many things you might have missed when you were a young person. There’s no substitute for life experience, and the ability to listen. Besides, it’s always easier when you’re not the one going through the harrowing experiences life throws at you.”
“I love you, Mum.”
“And I love you. Now, go put that baby in his cot and go to bed. You sound tired, and you mustn’t allow your performance at work to suffer. Few people make allowances for new fathers.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, son. I can’t wait to see you all at Christmas.”
Gabe disconnected the call and set aside the phone. Alex was sound asleep, his breathing even. He was warm and soft, his downy head damp against Gabe’s chest. Gabe kissed the top of the baby’s head and carefully sat up, so as not to disturb him. He carried him to the other room and laid him in his cot. Alex lifted his arms, as if declaring surrender, and turned his head to the side, his mouth slightly open. Gabe had never seen anything as perfect as his tiny son, and he felt a pang of regret at missing the first four years of Emma’s life. Phoebe’s words still rang in his ears. Perhaps he’d been too hard on Sylvia and Jude. The most important things in life took time and effort.
TEN
MARCH 1917
Petrograd, Russia
The house was shrouded in darkness and veiled in silence. The servants were in their quarters, cowering in fright, no doubt, and Nyanushka and Olga Alexandrovna, the governess, had elected to stay in the nursery with Kolya, believing themselves safer in a room on the top floor that faced the back of the house. No lamps were lit anywhere besides the front parlor, where the family had gathered. The heavy drapes had been pulled closed, and only one oil lamp burned, adding its light to the glow from the fire.
Elena Kalinina reclined dramatically on a chaise, a cool compress on her head, while Ivan Kalinin stood before the fireplace, staring into the flames, his hands clasped behind his back. Valya and Tanya sat on the settee furthest from the window. The room wasn’t cold, but they huddled together, their shawls wrapped tightly around their shoulders. Normally, they’d be full of questions, but tonight, neither girl wished to know more. It was all too distressing already.
“What will happen, Vanya?” Elena moaned, addressing her husband by his pet name. “What will become of us?”
“Please calm down, Lenochka,” Ivan replied, his tone even and measured. “This rebellion will be put down. There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“But the city is overrun with rabble. They’re armed and dangerous.”
“Lena,” Ivan replied patiently, “this is nothing more than a disorganized, clumsy attempt by ill-trained and poorly armed peasants and factory workers to seize control of the city. They’ve enjoyed a measure of success, but it will be short-lived, I tell you.The rabble-rousers will be put down, their leaders executed like mad dogs. They cannot succeed. It’s impossible. Think of it, Lena; they are nothing more than an ignorant, unwashed mob with scythes and axes. They have a few rifles among them, and perhaps a dozen horses. How can they stand up to the might that is the Imperial Russian Army?”
