Page 52 of Unforgotten
“I don’t understand.” Gavin fixed the abbess with a hard stare. “What should Ella tell me?”
Mother Shona dragged in a deep breath. “This is not how it should be told … by right ye were never to know.”
Dread twisted Gavin’s gut, although he masked it with a scowl. “Know what?”
The abbess shook her head. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
Gavin’s heart started to pound against his ribs.
Secret?
Their gazes fused for a long moment, before Mother Shona exhaled sharply. “Go after Ella and ask her.”
Gavin nodded and moved toward the door.
“Wait,” the abbess’s voice halted him, and he turned to see that she was watching him, sadness etched upon her proud face. “Ye will find her in the graveyard.”
Kilbride’s graveyard was a small space, encircled by a neatly trimmed hawthorn hedge. Rows of grey headstones thrust out of the grass like small stumpy teeth. At the far end of the yard grew a large shady yew.
And under that tree stood a small robed figure.
Ella’s back was to Gavin as he approached. Her shoulders were hunched, revealing her misery.
Gavin slowed his step. He hated to see Ella like this. He’d witnessed her control begin to unravel at Scorrybreac after her mother’s death. He couldn’t bear to see Ella that upset again.
As he neared her, Gavin saw that Ella stood before a low grassy mound that lay under the spreading branches of the yew.
“Ella?” he said her name softly, hoping that she would not flee.
He wondered if she had even heard him. Ella’s head was bowed, her arms folded across her chest in a protective gesture.
Stepping up next to her, Gavin shifted his attention to her profile. Ella’s cheeks were wet. She wept silently, her gaze riveted upon the mound at her feet.
“Ella,” he whispered. “Please talk to me.”
She heard him that time. Ella’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she dipped her chin, taking a long, shuddering breath.
“They couldn’t give him a gravestone.” Her voice was faint, broken. “For he was born out of wedlock.”
Gavin went cold. He tore his gaze from Ella’s profile to the mound. It was a tiny grave, one that sat apart from the others in the yard. Gavin’s throat closed up then, his heart thudding against his breastbone like a battle drum. And when Ella spoke again, he felt as if someone had just driven a blade under his ribs.
“This is our son’s resting place, Gavin.”
23
Second Chances
IN AN INSTANT, Gavin MacNichol’s world tilted.
A son.
It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. For a few long moments, he was lost in a churning sea of pain and regret. And when he finally recovered the power of speech, Gavin’s voice didn’t sound like his own. It was raw, edged with grief.
“Why did ye never tell me?”
“Ye were wed to my sister by the time I realized I was with bairn,” Ella whispered. “My courses have never been that regular … it was only when I couldn’t face my morning bread and beer that I realized something had changed.” She paused there. “The healer from Torrin confirmed that my womb had quickened.”
Gavin stared at her, his thoughts churning. “And the abbess allowed ye to remain here?”
