Page 60 of Gabriel's Angel

Matthew Quartermain had been the Bradleys’ attorney for forty years. He was crusty and shrewd and, despite his stuffy exterior, not easily shocked. He’d nodded and made notes and asked questions until Laura’s mouth had dried up from answering.

Because he hadn’t sympathized or condemned, it had become easier to talk plainly. The truth, spoken in simple, unemotional terms, had been easier to face than it had to keep hidden. In the end she hadn’t spared herself or Tony. And in the end she’d felt a powerful sense of having been cleansed.

At last she’d said it all, put all the misery and pain into words. She’d purged her heart and her mind in a way that her lingering sense of shame had never permitted before. Now that it was done, she understood what it was to wipe the slate clean and begin again.

Quartermain hadn’t been happy with her final decision, but she’d been firm. Before papers of any kind were served or answered, she would see Lorraine again, face-to-face.

Beside Laura, Gabe lay sleepless. Like her, he was thinking back over the scene in the parlor. With every word that played back in his head his fury inched higher. She had spoken of things there that she had never told him, going into detail she had glossed over before. He’d thought he understood what she’d been through, and he’d thought his feelings about it had already peaked. He’d been wrong.

She hadn’t told him about the black eye that had prevented her from leaving the house for nearly a week, or about Lorraine explaining away Laura’s split lip by speaking of her daughter-in-law’s clumsiness. She hadn’t told him about the drunken attacks in the middle of the night, the jealous rages if she’d spoken with another man at a social function, the threats of revenge and violence when she’d finally found the courage to leave.

They’d come out tonight, in excruciating detail.

He hadn’t touched her when they’d prepared for bed. He wondered how she could bear to be touched at all.

What she had been through was all too clear now. How could he expect her to put it aside, when he was no longer certain he could? No matter how gentle he was, how much care he took with her, the shadow of another man and another time was between them.

She’d said she loved him. As much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn’t understand how anyone who had lived through that kind of hell could ever trust a man again, much less love him.

Gratitude, devotion, with Michael as the common ground. That he could understand. And that, Gabe thought as he lay in the dark, was more than many people were ever given.

He’d wanted more for them, had been on the verge of believing they could have more. That had been before all those words had been spoken downstairs while the quiet spring breeze had ruffled the curtains.

Then she turned toward him, her body brushing his. He stiffened.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No.” He started to shift so that they were no longer touching, but she moved again until her head rested on his shoulder.

The gesture, the easy, uncomplicated movement toward him, tore him in two. The one who needed, and the one who was afraid to ask.

“I can’t sleep, either. I feel as though I’ve run an obstacle course, and my body’s exhausted from it. But my mind keeps circling.”

“You should stop thinking about tomorrow.”

“I know.” Laura brushed her hair aside, then settled more comfortably. She felt the slight drawing away, the pulling back. With her eyes shut tight, she wondered if he thought less of her now that he knew everything.

“There’s no need for you to worry. It’s going to be all right.”

Was it? Taking a chance, she reached through the dark for his hand. “The trouble is, different scenes keep popping into my head. What I’ll say, what she’ll say. If I don’t...” Her words trailed off when the baby started crying. “Sounds like someone else is restless.”

“I’ll get him.”

Though she’d already tossed the covers aside, Laura nodded. “All right. I’ll nurse him in here if he’s hungry.”

She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest as Gabe tossed on a robe and strode to the nursery. A moment later the crying stopped, then started again. Under it, she could hear Gabe’s voice, murmuring and soothing.

It was so easy for him, so natural. Sensitivity, tenderness, were as much a part of him as temper and arrogance. Wasn’t that why she’d finally been able to admit that she loved him? There would be no cycle of despair, submission and terror with Gabe, as there had been with Tony. She could love him without giving up the pieces of herself that she’d so recently discovered.

No, he didn’t think less of her. She couldn’t be sure of all of his feelings, but she could be sure of that. It was just that he was as worried as she and felt obligated to pretend otherwise.

The light from the nursery slanted into the hallway. In it she could see Gabe’s shadow as he moved. The crying became muffled, then rose in a wail. Recognizing the tone of the crying, Laura leaned back and shut her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

“Teething,” she murmured when Gabe brought a sobbing Michael into the bedroom. Switching on the bedside lamp she smiled at him. All of them needed support tonight. “I’ll nurse him and see if that helps any.”

“There you go, old man. Best seat in the house.” Gabe settled him in Laura’s arms. The crying faded to a whimper, then disappeared completely as he suckled. “I’m going down for a brandy. Do you want anything?”

“No. Yes, some juice. Whatever’s in there.”

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