by Mary Leo
The last time she’d seen the cabin, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old. It was the summer before senior year in high school when her future looked bright. She could only visit her dad for two weeks that summer, instead of two months, and Hamilton had been disappointed because of it. She’d needed to attend summer school to pick up extra credit so she could graduate with a better GPA. In retrospect, she wished she’d spent that summer with Hamilton, rather than struggling through a summer of math that she ended up not needing anyway.
Hamilton looked around. “My mom’s handiwork, I’m sure. We’re getting ready to sell the place to a developer. Have to make up our minds by November thirtieth. My mom wanted one last family holiday at the cabin. I didn’t want to come out, but as you know, saying no to my mom isn’t easy.”
Gaby had always thought of Catherine Winchester like a second mom. She could remember countless times when Catherine had come to her rescue over an argument with one of her dad’s many women who tried to play mom to Gaby. Catherine had been there whenever she needed advice or friendship or a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup. Gaby loved her more than she’d ever let on, and always wished that, if her dad wasn’t ever going to get back together with her mom, that maybe he and Catherine would somehow fall in love.
Of course, she knew that would never happen. Catherine was too smart to fall for such a cheater.
“That can’t be true. Your mom wouldn’t want you guys to sell it. She loves it here, and I thought you and your brothers loved it as well, especially JT. I can’t see him ever agreeing to a sale.”
“It’s worth too much money to allow emotions to dictate its future.” He drank down half of his wine, which told Gaby that he was on edge about this deal, that perhaps her showing up wasn’t the only thing causing him grief. She’d never known Hamilton to be a drinker. One or two glasses of wine or a couple bottles of beer and he reached his limit. Tonight, however, the way he was chugging down the wine, he may go for the entire bottle.
“Since when do you care about money more than sentiment? You always said you wanted to take care of this cabin, this land, and introduce horses back on the property like your grandfather did when he first bought the place. His stables are still out there waiting to be inhabited along with the corrals. You said you wanted your family to sit around the table your grandfather built while you and your wife served the holiday meals you both prepared. What happened to that dream?”
Hamilton drank more of his wine, then sat on the plush sofa that faced the roaring fire. He looked tired, haggard and somewhat weary. Gaby walked over and sat on the overstuffed brown leather club chair then turned to face him. Her resolve over what she’d come to tell him was quickly slipping away.
“I grew up and realized the value of a dollar.”
“You sound like your dad.”
Hamilton winced and she knew she’d dealt him a blow. His dad had always been a schemer, and had more or less abandoned his family when Hamilton was around seven years old. His mom had kept a roof over their heads in those first years by making and selling her own jams and jellies. When they caught on, she moved to her own local cooking show on TV called, “Canning With Catherine.” That show soon went nationwide along with the popularity of the home garden. His mom taught the country how to can fruits, vegetables, and just about anything else that could be put into a jar. Her show was an instant hit, with several cookbooks that followed. Hamilton’s dad had tried his best to get in on the profits, causing a lot of strife in the family, but his mom turned out to be a shrewd businesswoman and he never saw a dime of her earnings.
“He was more right than I ever imagined. He’s responsible for this deal, and it’s a great one.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“It’s what he wants.”
“And you and your brothers are going along with it?”
“Whatever they want to do is fine by me, but I’d just as soon be done with this place. There’s nothing here any longer to call me back.” He finished his glass of wine and went for a second.
Gaby stood, thinking her proposition might just work out after all. He seemed like a changed man.
Cocky.
Cold and indifferent.
Exactly the attitude her dad had when her mom accused him of cheating on her.
“Look, I didn’t come here to discuss your dad’s lack of virtue,” she began.
“Then why did you come? The last time we met you made it very clear you were in love with another man, and our time together had been a mistake.”
She caught the hurt in Hamilton’s eyes. It had only lasted a moment, but it was there. Gaby knew Hamilton better than she knew anyone, knew all his nuances, all his expressions, all the emotions he tried to keep in check. They’d spent every childhood summer together since they were five. She’d known when she walked away from him in Denver that he was falling in love with her, and it scared her more than she’d wanted to admit. Even now, she didn’t want or need his love, just his signature on the dotted line.
“It wasn’t a total mistake, Hamilton. I’m carrying your baby.”
Chapter Three
Hamilton plopped down on the bar stool and nearly tumbled off in the process. For a moment, he thought she was kidding, but by the look on her sweet face, he knew that was only wishful thinking on his part, still . . . .
“Wait a minute. I know we used a condom.”
“Yes, we did . . . the first time. We didn’t the fourth time.”
“There was a fourth time?”
Hamilton thought back to that night when they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, when making it out of the elevator and walking to her room seemed impossible, then getting her suit off, and slipping her pink panties down . . . he couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t focus on how many times. Looking at her, here, in his grandparents’ cabin, with that prominent baby bump, it didn’t seem right.
She blushed. “Yes, in the shower.”
He gazed down at the floor as the vision of her glistening naked body swarmed his memory, causing his banked emotions to swell. He didn’t want to feel any emotion, not for Gaby, especially not for Gaby. She always left him broken hearted. At the end of each long summer, it would take him months to stop thinking about her. Then when she went off to college he tried to keep in touch, but she wouldn’t answer his emails, or his phone calls. She’d call him whenever it suited her, if she needed a shoulder to cry on, but for the most part, she’d always kept her distance.
He’d finally managed to get over her, and had dated several other women throughout the years, but none of them came close to how he felt about Gaby.
Then, by some miracle he would never understand, when they’d run into each other in Denver all the hurt simply faded away. Deep inside he’d known she would leave him, so he’d held his emotions in check . . . right up to when he’d heard her in the shower that final morning.
He’d run out of condoms and even stopped long enough to warn her of the situation, but neither one of them could resist. After the passion he knew she’d felt that morning, he’d assumed they’d work something out and stay together, find a way to date, to fall in love. She’d stepped out of the shower first while he lingered under the hot water, relishing in what had just happened between them, and knowing it meant much more than just having sex. She’d given herself to him fully, and he to her. He’d felt it with each kiss, with each touch, with each sigh. He thought she’d break it off with her boyfriend, but instead, when he’d stepped out of the shower, ready to talk about their future together, she was gone.
He hadn’t understood how they could have shared that kind of intensity, and then how she could simply walk away for another man.
“But what about your husband? Couldn’t this be his baby?”
“I don’t have a husband now, just as I didn’t have a boyfriend back then.”
“Then why did you leave me in that hotel room? Why did you lie to me?”
She shrugg
ed, as her eyes moistened. “I wasn’t ready.”
“You weren’t ready? What the hell does that mean? Ready for what?”
“Ready for you . . . for us . . . for a relationship.”
He dropped his gaze over her body, then caught her stare. “And are you now?”
“No.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Then what the hell are you doing here, Gaby? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to sign a document releasing your claim on this baby. I’m going to give her up for adoption.”
She may as well have just slapped him. “So, it’s a girl?”
“Yes, but that’s not important.”
“That’s not important? You’re asking me to hand over my daughter to strangers and that’s not important?”
“Up until a few minutes ago you didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“But now I do, and I’m not so sure I’m ready to make a decision like this.”
“I could have done it without you, but I thought you should know, just in case.”
“In case what? In case I want her? In case I don’t want you to do this?”
She shook her head. “No. In case she ever comes looking for you. I wanted you to know she’s yours.”
“Why are you doing this Gaby? If I remember correctly, you always wanted children.”
“Things changed.”
“What things?”
“I grew up.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to be anyone’s mother.”
He smiled. “It’s kind of too late for that one. What else ya’ got?”
***
Her eyes watered. She didn’t need his sarcasm. She’d suffered through it enough from her mom. “I can’t do this, Hamilton. I won’t put my child through what I went through. She deserves a loving family, a mom and a dad who will raise her together, in the same house.”
He slid off his stool and walked toward her, looking as if he was going to take her in his arms. If ever she needed to be wrapped in his arms, it was at that moment.
But instead he walked right past her, then grabbed her car keys off his grandfather’s table and shoved them into his pants pocket. She immediately felt her entire body bristle. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s late. I’m tired. There are five bedrooms in this house. Pick one. It’s been a long day, and I can’t make any more decisions, especially one that will affect my entire life. But the one decision I can make, is that you’re not getting back on that road tonight. We can talk about this in the morning. Are your things in your car, or did you get a room somewhere?”
She wanted to argue, tell him she didn’t want to stay, demand that he give her the keys, but she had to admit the day’s tensions, plus the flight and the drive had all contributed to some suffocating fatigue. All she really wanted was a warm bed to crawl into. Alone.
“I drove here right from the airport.”
“I’ll get your bags out of the car.”
“Fine, but don’t get any ideas.”
He grinned and shook his head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not dead. I’m pregnant.”
“Meaning?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
He walked in closer, so close she could smell the wine on his breath. She always loved red wine.
“Are you making me an offer, because if you are, I’d be glad to accommodate. But let me make one thing crystal clear before we head down that familiar path: this time, I’ll be the one who leaves, not you. I no longer love you, Gaby Venti, nor will I ever love you again. You’ve broken my heart too many times. Think of me as Humpty Dumpty . . . my heart can’t be put back together again.”
She stepped away from him, completely put off by what he was saying, especially his reference to Humpty Dumpty, her least favorite nursery rhymes. The one her mom had painted on her bedroom wall when she was a child, right after her dad had abandoned them for wife number two.
“I wasn’t offering.”
He turned and headed for the door. “Good, because I have a lot of work to do over this holiday, and making love to you isn’t on my agenda.”
When he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, it was the first time in her entire life that she felt as though she was truly on her own.
The thought caused her to shiver . . . or was it the cold draft that had rushed in through the open door? Either way, she couldn’t stop shaking.
Chapter Four
Hamilton thought he could work. He set up his laptop on the antique desk in his well appointed room, clicked on his favorite playlist for atmosphere, sat in the comfortable chair, and couldn’t think of one damn thing to plug into any of the documents he needed to fill out. Instead, his mind raced with visions of his baby, what she looked like, what her personality would be like, how he would love to be her daddy and give her all the love he’d had.
It wasn’t right.
It wasn’t fair.
And most of all, it didn’t make any sense.
Gaby loved kids, always had. At one point, she had wanted to open her own pre-school. Then there was a time she’d wanted to adopt little girls from China, from Latin America, Africa, and from right here in the states.
What had changed her mind?
And what was driving her to give up what he knew she wanted most?
He paced the room feeling like a caged animal, like his whole world had folded in on itself and all that was left was this moment in time. Whatever he did or said in the next few days would determine the rest of his life, the rest of their lives. How could he possibly know what to do, what to say to Gaby to get her to reconsider?
And there it was: once again he was hoping to have some influence on Gaby when history told him he’d already lost that battle years ago. No matter how kind he was to her, how many times he’d told her he loved her, that he wanted nothing more than to spend every second of his life with her, she simply didn’t care. He had to face that fact and learn to live with it, just as he’d learned to live without his dad, his grandma, his grandpa, and without the camaraderie of his brothers. And now he had to give up on his dream of ever living in Plymouth Rock . . . with Gaby and his little girl.
Out of all of that, the one thing he couldn’t give up on yet, was his child, their child, his and Gaby’s. It was like an unexpected dream come true, only that dream had turned into a nightmare. How could he possibly breathe in air and be even remotely content knowing his child was out there somewhere being raised by another man.
“I won’t allow it,” he said aloud, then he threw open the door, and marched down the dark hallway to Gaby’s bedroom. The light was still on in her room so he barged right in.
“Gaby, I---”
But she had fallen asleep while lying on her back in the middle of the bed, a book in her hand. She looked so small and vulnerable that he wanted to crawl in beside her and never let her go, but he knew he couldn’t.
Not now.
Not the way things stood between them.
He turned off the light, moved the novel to the nightstand, tucked the down comforter in around her, slipped her short-cropped, deep brown colored hair off her face, then gently kissed her forehead, an act he wouldn’t dream of doing while she was awake. Even when they’d shared a bed in Denver, there was little real lovemaking going on. Yes, it was hot and passionate, especially in the shower that final morning, when he’d thought he’d finally reached her, but she’d apparently held her emotions in check. He had tried to do the same, but whenever he was around Gaby for any length of time, his heart would fill up and his love for her would exude from every pore.
Even now . . . especially now.
He sat cross-legged on the floor next to her bed wondering how the hell he was ever going to say good-bye to her this time. But more importantly, how was he ever going to say good-bye to his baby?
Ironically, Gaby had chosen his grandmother’s favorite room to sleep
in. The room she liked to take naps in whenever the weather provided her with a show. She loved a good thunderstorm or a heavy snowfall, or even a bright, windy day. She’d take an hour’s break every afternoon at two o’clock sharp, close the door and disappear. She told everyone she was taking a nap, but Hamilton had snuck in the room a few times when he was very young and she’d be reading or singing a song. One time he even caught her dancing.
The room still held some of her things, the large doily she’d crocheted partially covered the small round walnut table in the corner of the room where she’d like to take her afternoon tea. The red velvet chase she liked to read on sat in front of the large windows that faced a stunning view of the Rockies. Her many books from all genres still lined the walls on the handcrafted bookshelves Grandpa Win had made for her. There had to be a couple thousand books, and she’d read each and every one of them.
Hell, the room still held her scent.
As a boy, he’d done the opposite of everyone else. Everyone just assumed Grandma Win needed her sleep, but Hamilton had wanted proof, and from what he’d seen, there was never any sleeping involved. Grandma Win needed down time, away from the family, and instead of hitting Grandpa over the head with what she’d wanted she used a different tactic: she went along with everyone’s assumptions about an older woman needing a nap.
And it was with that memory that Hamilton knew what he had to do . . . he had to allow Gaby to assume he was going along with the deal. It was the one thing he’d never tried with her: cold surrender.
Hamilton leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and said a little prayer to his grandpa. “If you can hear me, please help me to convince Gaby to keep our baby. And if you do, I promise to do right by her, right by my daughter, and right by my family.”