CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Donovan reached for Gabriella’s hand as they walked into the office building where the therapist’s office was located. That small gesture filled her with hope and gratefulness.
Maybe they could get past this.
Inside, the therapist’s office was set up like a small living room with a series of plush chairs in a circle facing one another. The therapist, a small woman in a dark purple suit, stuck out her hand. “I’m Jeannine,” she said.
After introductions, she asked what brought them to see her.
For a brief moment, Gabriella and Donovan looked at each other and laughed. Jeannine smiled, probably thinking this was going to an easy day of marital counseling. Donovan held his arm out to Gabriella. “Why don’t you start? You’re the storyteller.”
Gabriella nodded. She could sum up the hell her life had been for the past five months.
When she was done, the therapist looked stunned and scooted back in her chair. She’d been leaning intently forward listening, taking notes and nodding. She let out a big whoosh of air and then turned to Donovan. “Anything you’d like to add?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. That about covers it.”
The therapist opened her mouth to say something then closed it again.
The room was a silent for a moment, the only sound a passing airplane and traffic outside filtering in the cracked window.
As a reporter, Gabriella was trained to sit out any length of silence and let the other person fill in the awkward moment. As a detective, Donovan was even better at it.
After a long sixty seconds, the therapist stood. “I think that’s enough for today. I will study my notes and we can resume on Thursday if that works for you.” She held the door.
After the door closed behind them and they were heading to separate cars, Donovan turned to Gabriella. “She doesn’t want to touch us with a ten-foot-pole.”
Gabriella shook her head. “You’re wrong. I think she’s already trying to figure out how to write a book about our story.”
Donovan burst into laughter.
But then he quickly sobered. Every time it seemed like they were resuming normal loving interactions, the memory of what happened in the jungle took over.
Opening her car door, Gabriella paused, watching as her husband looked down at the ground, swallowing. She waited for him to look back up at her. When he did, she spoke so softly she could barely hear her own words.
“I love you, Sean Donovan. I always will love you. No matter what.”
He pressed his lips together, nodded, and turned away. She watched him get into his car. He was facing away, but she saw him raise a hand to his face and swipe it. Was he crying?
Gabriella slammed her car door and waited a second before turning the key over in the ignition. She’d done what she could. It was out of her hands now. If he wouldn’t forgive her, that was his decision. She’d be heartbroken, but she’d survive. She was a Giovanni.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
That night Donovan came to her.
At first, she thought she was dreaming—feeling his mouth on her body—and by the time she was fully awake she was delirious with desire.
The way he felt. The way he smelled. The way he tasted.
Nobody would ever compare to Sean Donovan. Nobody could ever touch her like he did.
There was something about making love to a man that had spent years essentially memorizing and studying her body and how it reacted to his touch. There would never be anyone else who knew her so well, who knew how to arouse her.
In the black of night she couldn’t see his face, but she felt the wetness on his cheeks. He was weeping as they made love. She burst into tears. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I love you forever. No matter what.”
Her heart filled with joy. It was going to be okay.
After, she wept as he slept beside her. She cried in relief and in joy that she finally felt like she had her husband back. The stranger who had flown back from Central America with her was gone. Donovan was finally home.
But the next morning when she woke, she rolled over reaching for her husband. His spot in the bed was empty. She half sat up with bleary eyes. Donovan was sitting up in bed with his back to her, hands on his knees, head hanging down.
He spoke without looking at her.
“I rented an apartment nearby. At least for now—until we figure this out. It’s a six-month lease.”
She waited until he left the room before she rolled back over, burying her face in the pillow.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Donovan and Gabriella saw each other at least twice a week—at their counseling sessions. In front of the counselor, they were guarded, words carefully chosen, emotions held in check. Both agreed that neither of them was ready to throw away their marriage, but neither was ready to pretend it was like it used to be, either.
Every once in a while, they would cross paths when Donovan came to get Grace and take her out for lunches and dinners and movies.
Gabriella never objected and was never jealous of their time together. They had a lot of time to make up as father and daughter.
Even with her parents living apart, it was the happiest Grace had been in months. Gabriella hadn’t seen her daughter like that since before Donovan’s plane crashed.
Each Tuesday and Thursday morning—the day of the marital counseling appointments—Gabriella dressed carefully, eyeing her closet for something she knew Donovan would like. She meticulously lined her eyes with black eyeliner, slicked on the petal pink lipstick her husband had always liked and spritzed on the perfume he had bought her every Christmas for the past decade.
She felt ridiculous and ashamed that she was trying to seduce her husband, but that, was in fact what she was doing. She knew that none of her superficial efforts mattered one bit, but still found she had to arm herself in this way before every counseling session.
Today, she was rewarded with an appreciative glance from Donovan when she walked in.
He stood and kissed her cheek. “You are beautiful.”
Those three words nearly brought her to her knees. She fought back her tears. He must still love her, right? He had said he would love her forever, no matter what. But she also knew appreciating the way someone looked and loving someone had nothing to do with staying together. Nothing. Still, she clung to the way his voice sounded as he said it.
The tone of his voice, his glance, the kiss on the cheek. Baby steps. She’d take it.
Because it was only a few minutes later that the rage surfaced.
“I can’t sleep,” Donovan told the counselor. “All I think about ... all I can see are those pictures.”
At first, Gabriella had been sickened by comments like this, but now, three weeks into counseling, it was getting old.
Get. Over. It.
And that’s when her rage flared.
“How do you feel thinking about those pictures?” the counselor prodded.
“Furious. Like I could kill someone.” Donovan’s neck grew red.
Gabriella’s eyes widened. This was new. It sent a trickle of fear through her. She’d covered enough domestic violence stories in her career as a reporter to see how jealousy could make someone homicidal even to the love of their lives. It was an old story. It was common. But she’d never dreamed her own husband could feel this way.
“Who do you feel like you could kill?” The counselor was very careful in how she asked this. Gabriella had seen enough therapists over the years to know the counselor was holding her breath, wondering if this was one of those few comments that therapists were required to report to law enforcement. Everything said to a therapist was protected under the law—except a threat to someone else.
“That’s the bitch about it,” Donovan said with a bitter laugh. “There is nobody. Nobody who is still alive that is. Everyone I wish dead in this situation is already dead. Except me.”
The therapist sat up straighter.
<
br /> “Are you thinking about harming yourself?”
Fear raced through Gabriella. She’d never even considered that possibility.
But Donovan burst into laughter. “Hell no.”
Relief filled Gabriella. And then anger.
“It looks like you have something you want to say to that, Gabriella?”
“I don’t understand that desire—to wish someone dead.” It was a total lie. She’d wished plenty of people dead—the man who kidnapped and killed her sister. The man who kidnapped and killed her niece. The man who kidnapped her. And here’s the thing, this therapist had no clue, but Gabriella had killed all three of them.
She gave a strangled laugh as she realized this. That was for another counselor or another life. This woman didn’t need to know any of this. But to her surprise, she found Donovan laughing loudly again. Not in a bitter way, but in a conspiratorial way with her. He knew her so well. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Well, this is progress,’ the counselor said, brightly, clapping as she stood. “Let’s stop for today and I’ll see you both Thursday.”
Donovan strode out of the office without saying goodbye, so Gabriella took her time gathering her things and then stopped at the office building’s bathroom so she didn’t have to run into Donovan in the parking lot. Her anger toward him was growing. He needed to get his shit together and make this marriage work.
The therapist had said it was normal to feel this rage toward one another, but it was also important to express it and then let it go. Today, she’d failed that directive. Both of them had. She was furious at him and he was furious at her.
However, she had to admit that after three weeks of counseling, some of the anger toward each other had dissipated. Enough so that Donovan sometimes called just to see how Gabriella was doing, even when Grace was at school.
As she drove home Donovan called.
“Hello?” Was he going to yell at her now that the counselor wasn’t around?
“I was thinking,” he paused. He sounded nervous. “We haven’t made it out to Nana’s yet for Sunday dinner. How about I come get you and Grace about ten on Sunday and we drive together?”
“Okay,” Gabriella said in a small voice.
“Okay then.” He hung up.
Nobody, not even Gabriella’s mother, knew about their marital woes. Everybody in the family thought that they were still recovering from their ordeal and that’s why they hadn’t made Sunday dinner at grandma’s yet.
They’d been able to keep it from Maria who had returned back to her Marin County home with her nurse the day after Gabriella and Donovan arrived home.
Maria had good days and bad and the last thing Gabriella wanted was for her mother to worry about her daughter’s marriage.
Gabriella tried to stop by the house at least once every day to spend time with her mother. The doctors had said she could live another six months or go any day. Each morning Gabriella woke up with trepidation and before she had barely opened her eyes, would lean over to check her phone for messages from The Saint. Every morning the screen was blank, she gave thanks for another day with her mother.
On Sunday, Gabriella woke filled with hope and excitement. She loved Sunday dinner at Nana’s. Today, she planned to spend lots of time with her mother. She also needed Maria’s moral support because today was the day everyone in the Giovanni family would meet Alejandro. All they knew was that Gabriella and Donovan had taken in the orphan son of a colleague killed in Central America. And that was all they needed to know.
Gabriella had woken extra early to make a large dish of lasagna and bake a triple batch of biscotti to bring to the get together. Donovan offered to drive her old Saab so she could hold the lasagna on her lap in its insulated pan.
Grace was ecstatic in the back seat, talking nonstop to Alejandro about what it was like at her Nana’s house.
“I think Carlos and Marcella are going to bring their iPads, too, so we can play Minecraft.”
Donovan and Gabriella exchanged a look and without discussing it, came to an agreement. “No iPads,” Donovan said lightly. “You’re going to leave yours in the car. This is a chance to spend time with your family. You and your cousins can play outside.”
“You are so mean!” Grace burst out.
“You better watch it or you’ll lose your electronic privileges for the week.” “Don’t worry,” Gabriella said. “Your cousins might think they are going to play on their iPads while they’re at Nana’s, but they are wrong.”
Grace rolled her eyes, but Gabriella pretended she didn’t see it.
It all seemed so normal. Like a normal family having a morning spat. Looking in the mirror, Gabriella saw Grace cross her arms angrily. Alejandro was looking out the window.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing in taking the boy in to her home.
But it felt right. A feeling of contentment settled on Gabriella. The long driveway to her grandmother’s house always filled Gabriella with peace. It was no different today. Right then, at that moment, all was okay in her world. And it would have to be enough.
She rolled down her window and let the breeze whip her hair, inhaling the country smells. For the first time since she’d come home, she let go of all her worries and fears.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Gabriella opened her eyes to see several faces staring down at her with concern. The last thing she remembered was being in her grandmother’s backyard, kneeling at her mother’s side, and then standing. Now she was flat on her back on the grass.
“What happened?”
“You fainted? How do you feel?” It was Donovan with such a concerned look in his eyes she wanted to cry. He did still love her.
“I feel okay. I don’t remember what happened.”
“You started to stand and then tipped. Donovan caught you before you hit the ground,” it was her sister-in-law Nina. “Do you want a drink?”
Gabriella nodded and tried to sit up, but it triggered a wave of nausea. “Oh God, I feel sick. I better not drink anything.”
She glanced around the big backyard. Thank God not very many people had noticed her fainting. More than a dozen kids still raced through the backyard garden under grape vines strung from trellises and through waist-high tomato and pepper plants. A large tree toward the back of the lot shaded a small alcove with a wrought iron table and chairs where some of the older uncles sat smoking cigars, banished from the main patio by her grandmother.
On the large patio, flowered tablecloths covered half a dozen tables already spread with wine, water carafes, baskets of bread and appetizers. Gabriella took it all in with relief. The scene was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror.
Donovan lifted her by her armpits and sat her in a chair by her mother. Maria was watching carefully. “Mom, I swear I’m okay. I promise.”
“Go to the doctor. Tomorrow. Do you understand?” Maria’s voice was sharp.
“Yes, Mama.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Donovan laughed. “Well, that was easy. I’ve been telling her to go get checked out all week. I should have just called Mama Maria. She gets the job done.”
Gabriella could see that Donovan’s laughter hid his worry. He was working the muscle in his jaw something fierce. And he’d only asked her yesterday to go get checked out when she threw up while they were on the phone. He’d been telling her all week? Whatever.
It was uncomfortable having everyone staring at her, so Gabriella was relieved when her other sisters-in-laws and nieces brought out dishes of food and put them on the long wooden tables under the grape arbor nearby.
Nana hobbled out with her cane and pursed her lips in her earsplitting whistle. It was nearly unbelievable that such a shrieking sound could come out of a four foot five inch, ninety-pound woman.
At her whistle, all the kids gathered with the adults on the patio. Gabriella’s brother, Marco, said a prayer before e
veryone scrambled to get a spot at the table. The children, who outnumbered the adults the past few years, would sit at a series of small round metal tables nearby after they filled their plates from the main table.
Platters of pork chops, Italian sausages and spaghetti were placed on the large table alongside heaping piles of meatballs, baskets of bread, and bowls of green salad. In addition, several plates of vegetables were passed, along with a dozen carafes of water or wine.
Gabriella picked at her food. She was ravenous, but afraid if she ate too much or too quickly, she’d get sick. She’d concentrate on the meatballs. She’d been anemic in the past, so maybe her body needed some iron and that’s why she’d fainted. She caught her mother giving her a concerned glance. Ridiculous to pass out and worry her mother who already had so much to think about.
She’d go to the doctor in the morning and then reassure her mother that nothing was wrong. But just in case she wasn’t right, she was planning to lie and tell them she couldn’t get into the doctor until Tuesday. That way if something weren’t okay, she’d have a day to figure out how to tell her mother. Because despite her seeming nonchalance, something didn’t feel right in her body.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“I’m pregnant.”
Gabriella stumbled on the two simple words, knowing deep in her heart that they were the death knell for her marriage.
She had asked Donovan to dinner and as soon as Grace had gone to bed, led him out to the penthouse deck near the pool with two glasses and a bottle of Bourbon, hoping the alcohol, along with the beauty of the velvet night sky and stars would ease the shock of her words. But of course they couldn’t.
As if emotions had physical form, the atmosphere on the penthouse roof turned dark and ugly as soon as she spoke.
Without answering, Donovan reached over and poured a giant swig of Bourbon, downed it, and poured another. Any ground they had gained through counseling was gone.
Blessed are the Peacemakers Page 19