“Fatherhood is a great responsibility.” Richard’s tone was gentle.
Gabriel sat back on his heels, his focus on the carpet. “Yes.” He blew out a breath. “How did you know how to be a father?”
“I didn’t always. I made mistakes. But Grace was an incredible mother. She seemed to have the right instincts for parenting. I was fortunate to have excellent parents, as well. They died before you came to us, but they created a home that was loving and caring. I tried to do that with you children.”
“You succeeded.” Gabriel picked up one of the metal legs and turned it over in his hand.
Richard continued. “Parenting is a commitment. You promise to love your children, no matter what. You promise to keep them safe. You promise to provide for them, to teach them, and to guide them. And with God’s grace, a lot of patience, and hard work, you keep your promises.”
Gabriel hummed as he placed the metal leg on the carpet. He reached for the swing’s motor.
Richard adjusted Clare so that she was sleeping on her back in his arms. “Are you worried about being a father?”
Gabriel shrugged.
“You chose Julia to be your wife. She’s a lovely young woman and the perfect partner for you. You and she will figure things out. And I will be there for you and your family. I’m blessed every day by you children, and by Scott and Tammy’s son, and now by Clare. How fortunate I am to be a young grandfather and able to enjoy my grandchildren.”
Gabriel put the motor down and began fitting two of the larger metal pieces together. Richard settled himself in the large leather club chair that sat in the corner, still holding a sleeping Clare.
Gabriel’s gaze lifted to his daughter and the sight of his father’s hand wrapped protectively around her.
Richard still wore his wedding ring. Gabriel was tempted, sorely tempted, to tell Richard that he’d dreamt of Grace while he was in the hospital. But three years after her death, Richard still wore the marks of his sorrow, in the lines that had deepened on his face and the white hairs that had multiplied on his head. Gabriel would keep Grace’s apparition to himself.
He connected the feet of the swing to the two upright pieces that would form the legs. “During the delivery, something went wrong. They sent me out of the room. They handed me Clare but wouldn’t let me see Julianne. I thought she was dead.”
“Son.” Richard’s voice broke.
Gabriel reached into his toolbox and retrieved a screwdriver. He began tightening the screws in the legs. “How do you manage?”
Richard touched Clare’s head gently, so as not to wake her. “That’s an apt description. I manage. But my life will never be the same.
“There’s freedom in acceptance. I realize everything has changed and I’ve tried to adjust my outlook accordingly. But I still grieve her. I grieve the loss of her and what might have been. And as time goes by and the grief fades but doesn’t quite disappear, I’ve learned not to fight it. I lost the love of my life, and I will always feel her loss.
“She appears to me sometimes in my dreams. But only when I’m in our house. I find her appearances comforting.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
Richard appeared confused. “But you were.”
“Not really.” Gabriel busied himself with the swing, spreading the legs and fitting the crossbar in order to steady it. “I was mired in my own selfishness.”
“When Grace died, you came and sat with me on the ground.”
Gabriel lifted his eyebrows.
“From the book of Job, in the Bible,” Richard hastened to explain. “Job’s friends hear of his suffering and they come to see him.”
“Job’s friends aren’t exactly heroes,” Gabriel objected. He attached the swing’s motor to the legs and tested the structure to ensure that it wouldn’t tip over.
“True, true. But when they saw Job sitting on the ground, they went and sat with him. And they didn’t speak a word for seven days, for they recognized how great his sorrow was.” Richard paused until Gabriel made eye contact. “When Grace died, you came and sat with me on the ground.”
Gabriel didn’t answer, his emotions swirling in his chest. He picked up a wrench and tightened the bolts that held the motor to the legs.
“I’ve spent hours reflecting on my loss. But also hours remembering happy times. And the conclusion I’ve come to is that the best thing we can do for one another is to be present and to be loving.” Richard paused and pressed a kiss to the top of Clare’s head. “When my granddaughter is fussy, I can hold her. When Rachel is grieving, I can comfort her. When my son and his wife need an extra pair of hands or an expression of support, I will be with them. Time, love, and support—that is the core of being a parent.”
Richard smiled. “You’re embarking on a new phase of life with your family. Yes, there will be challenges. But there will be time enough to worry about them as they come. Focus on the present and don’t let your worries about the future rob you of your joy.”
Gabriel busied himself by sliding the swing off the carpet and onto the hardwood. He sat back to appreciate his handiwork. “Well done, Harvard.”
“Well done, indeed.” Richard’s gray eyes twinkled. “But you’ve attached everything but the swing.”
Gabriel looked at the upright apparatus in dismay. He turned around and saw the swing piece reclining secretively behind him. He grabbed his hair with both hands. “Fu-u-u. . . . . . . . . . . . dge.”
“Welcome to fatherhood.” Richard chuckled.
Chapter Six
Just before midnight, Gabriel walked through the darkened house with almost silent footfalls. That was his usual routine before retiring.
He checked all the doors to ensure that they were locked and proceeded to check the windows.
Gazing out the front windows at Foster Place, he noticed a car driving slowly. The car was black and unremarkable. But traffic was rare on Foster Place, because it was a cul-de-sac. There were two parking spots available on the street, and they were only available to residents.
The car slowed as it passed Gabriel, continued to the end of the cul-de-sac, and drove at a snail’s pace past him once again. The front license plate was obscured by mud. The windows were darkly tinted.
He watched as the car turned onto the next street and he replaced the curtain, covering the window. He then surveyed the ground floor.
Some months previous, Julianne had decided to decorate the house with lanterns, each of which held a flameless pillar candle. The candles shone gently, casting warm, rolling waves. She’d placed the lanterns strategically—one in each room, one at the base of the staircase and one at the top, one outside the nursery on the second floor, and one outside the guest bathroom. The candles were set to illumine at dusk and shine until morning.
Gabriel took a moment to admire the comforting glimmer of the lanterns, marveling at how they kept the darkness at bay. In his heart, he praised Julia’s foresight. No one would stumble on the stairs or on their way to the nursery. It was a small thing, perhaps, to light a lantern. But in Gabriel’s mind the gesture seemed all the more significant, as he considered what that evening would have been like if Julianne had not survived the delivery.
Gabriel’s prayer was spontaneous, like his overwhelming gratitude for his family. Like the way Julianne loved him.
Satisfied his home was secure, he climbed the staircase. He stopped by the nursery and switched on the light. The new baby swing stood proudly in the center of the room, which was crowded with gifts and baby clothes. Richard had displayed Clare’s name in large white letters above her closet.
Gabriel smiled and switched off the light.
In the master bedroom, a fanciful night light projected pink stars on the ceiling over Julianne’s side of the bed. He could see her curled into a ball beneath the covers. The playpen stood almost within arm’s r
each of the bed. Clare was swaddled in soft material, lying in a bassinet that was securely resting atop the elevated floor of the playpen.
He touched Clare’s head lightly, so as not to wake her. “Daddy loves you.”
Then he turned to his sleeping wife and pressed a kiss to her hair. He took a moment to survey his surroundings, especially the large reproduction of Henry Holiday’s painting of Dante and Beatrice that hung on the wall opposite the bed. Once again, he stared at Beatrice’s face, noticing the shocking resemblance between his own brown-eyed angel and Dante’s beloved.
Then his gaze moved to the large black-and-white photographs he’d taken of himself and Julia since they’d been together. There were others, of course. Stacks of photos lined his office, documenting Julianne’s beautiful form throughout pregnancy. And there were a hundred digital photos of Clare saved on his computer that had been taken in the hospital.
But for now, at least, he looked with fondness at the old picture of Julianne’s graceful neck and his hands holding up her long brown hair. And then the photo of her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her beautiful back and the side of one of her breasts exposed.
Longing stirred within him. Longing for the connection of their bodies, something that hadn’t been possible the past few weeks. Love had taught him patience, for he would not be so selfish as to press his wants on her now. But Professor Emerson was not a patient man. Nor was he naturally inclined to be celibate.
The more he thought of his wife and her lush and beautiful body, the more his longing grew.
He rubbed at his eyes. A few more days. I was celibate for months before Julianne and I were married. Surely I can survive a few more days.
Groaning, he crossed to his side of the bed near the window. He was used to sleeping naked, but that was no longer appropriate. With the scowl of the oppressed, he pulled off his T-shirt and threw it, leaving him clad only in pajama bottoms. Then he pulled back the covers.
He sprang back with a curse.
There, resting on his pillow, was a large, plastic flamingo. It was staring at him with a crazed smile on its face.
He swore.
A giggle sounded from the other side of the bed.
Gabriel switched on the lamp and glared at his wife. “Et tu, Brute?”
“What?” Julia rolled over to face him, feigning drowsiness. But she couldn’t maintain a straight face.
Gabriel grimaced. He picked up the accursed lawn ornament with two fingers and regarded it distastefully.
Julia laughed. “Oh, come on. That was funny.”
He wrinkled his nose and placed the flamingo on the floor. Then he pushed the creature aside with his foot. “I hope you cleaned it after you pulled it out of the dirt.”
“Maybe.” She gave him a saucy wink.
He examined his pillowcase, his hands going to his waist. “We’re going to have to strip the bed.”
She flopped back against the mattress. “It’s late. I washed the flamingo before putting it on your pillow, I swear.”
Gabriel gave her a dubious look.
She patted the sheets on his side. “Look, nice and clean. Come to bed. It’s been a long day.”
He gazed from his pillow to her tired but hopeful face and cast his eyes heavenward. He shook his head. “Fine. But I’m stripping the bed tomorrow morning. And I’m bleaching everything.”
Gabriel removed something from the drawer in his nightstand and hid it in his hand. He left the light on and crawled under the covers. “Rachel must have put you up to it.”
“No, it was my idea.” Julia yawned.
He pulled her toward him and kissed her temple.
“I love to hear you laugh,” he confessed. “And to see you smile.”
Julia snuggled against him. “I’m sorry for the tears earlier. I’m just tired and overwhelmed.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“There’s no reason for you to be tired and overwhelmed. You have me.”
She rested her head against his bare shoulder. “Good, because I need you. And Clare needs you, too.”
Gabriel hid his face in her hair. “Every day is a gift. I vow not to waste them.”
“Me, too.”
He felt for her right hand. “I wanted to give you something at the hospital, but we didn’t have a lot of privacy. Then I wanted to give it to you when we got home, but the timing wasn’t right.”
Julia lifted her head. “What is it?”
He placed a small robin’s-egg-blue box in her hand.
She sat up immediately. She undid the white ribbon bow that was wound around the box and opened the lid. A smaller velvet box was nestled inside.
Gabriel took the smaller box and opened it, presenting it to her.
Inside the box was a ring, which featured a large oval ruby flanked by two round diamonds. The setting was platinum and reminiscent of Julianne’s engagement ring.
He removed the ring and grasped her right hand, slipping it on her fourth finger. “This is a gift to commemorate the great gift that you’ve given me. The ruby represents you, the heart of our family, and the diamonds represent me and Clare. Together, we form a family.”
He leaned down to press his lips against the base of her finger.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She gazed at him in wonder. “I don’t know what to say.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows moved together. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s gorgeous. But most important, I love what it represents.” She stared at the ring. “And it fits.”
“I had to approximate the size based on your other rings. But it can always be resized.” With his thumb he moved the ring back and forth on her finger, experimentally.
“It’s incredible. Thank you.” She kissed him once again.
Gabriel took the boxes and ribbons and placed them on his nightstand. He switched off the light. “When is the baby’s next feeding?”
“Soon. I set the alarm on my phone.”
Gabriel settled under the covers and brought Julia into his side. “Wake me when you’re finished, and I’ll change her. Then you can get back to bed sooner.”
Julia hummed and lifted her right arm, examining her ring in the semidarkness. “I’m exhausted.”
He chuckled. “Then go to sleep.”
“Now I’m wired. It’s the flamingo’s fault.”
Gabriel laughed. His wife giggled in response.
When their laughter abated, Gabriel found himself staring down into her large, expressive eyes. Something passed between them.
Impulsively, he shifted her to her back. He traced her eyebrows with his fingertip. “Beatrice.”
She sighed when his lips met hers.
The electricity between them had not abated. Gabriel took his time, allowing his mouth to worship hers.
He deepened the kiss, his hand stroking her hip over her nightgown.
As his tongue gently teased hers, she made a noise in her throat. Gabriel felt encouraged and continued to dance, his lips firm and insistent.
His hand slid up her side and hovered over her breast. His eyes held a question.
“Your gift deserves a celebration,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
Gabriel smiled widely, his hand hovering like a bird over her breast.
Julia’s expression changed. “But it’s too soon. My breasts are sore and I’m sore around the incision and farther down.”
Stricken, Gabriel lowered his hand to rest on the mattress, near her hip. “I’m sorry.”
Julia’s palm moved to his thigh and began to slide upward. “I can look after you.”
Gabriel caught her wrist. “Another time.” He lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed the pale skin that stretched over her veins.
Julia sig
hed the sigh of the exhausted and frustrated. She slid her head across the pillow until it rested next to his shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine in six weeks.”
Six weeks? What fresh hell is this?
Gabriel blinked slowly. Somewhere in the recesses of his memory he recalled Dr. Rubio’s Athena-like pronouncement that intercourse had to be delayed. But the duration of the delay hadn’t truly penetrated his consciousness.
“I would if I could.” Julia sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
Her earnest tone roused him from his reverie. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He kissed her lightly on the nose. “Here.” He slid his arms under her body and gently assisted her in rolling onto her side, facing away from him.
He spooned behind her, sifting his fingers through her hair. He felt her body begin to relax beneath his touch. “I’ll rub your back.”
His hands slid sensuously over her shoulders and down her back. Skin to skin, he caressed her. And where he found tension, he massaged. “How does this feel?”
“Great.” Her body sagged against the mattress.
“And this?” He focused his contact on her right shoulder.
“It feels good.”
“Then just feel, sweetheart. I’ll stay right here. Right here.” He pressed a slow, chaste kiss to the area between her shoulder blades and felt her shiver beneath his lips. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
He knew her body. He knew how to build the pleasure in her, and how to make her toes curl. But in these moments, his sole purpose was to care for her and help her fall asleep.
She moaned softly, her eyes closed.
His hands slipped down to her lower back. He kneaded the muscles carefully, and whispered his fingers across her skin.
Julia’s breathing evened out and soon it was clear she’d fallen asleep.
Gabriel continued to caress her, but more lightly. “Thy love is better than wine,” he spoke in the darkness. “I’ll never get over my desire for you.”
With a final caress, he kissed her shoulder and carefully rested his hand on the curve of her hip. He sighed and lifted mournful eyes to heaven. “Give me chastity, Lord, at least for the next six weeks.”
Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno) Page 3