“Edwin can read and write. My mother taught him,” Petra confided. Avery nodded, appreciating what this meant. The vast majority of folk were illiterate. Few men were educated, and even fewer women. Petra’s mother had come from a family that had been noble once and had taught her letters, but Cyril Ordell had been illiterate, as were most craftsmen and tradesmen. Only those with noble titles were taught to read and write, and the clergy, of course.
“You wish to send him to the seminary?” Avery asked, his voice laced with doubt. “How would that keep him safe? He’d be more exposed than ever.”
“I wasn’t thinking of sending him to the seminary. I’d like him to become a scribe. I heard it said that there are monks who copy texts at Greyfriars Priory. Edwin can do that, surely. The priory is a quiet, peaceful place. Perhaps Edwin would be cured of his affliction in a place where he felt safe,” Petra explained.
“And how would Edwin feel about becoming a monk?” Avery asked. “As a priest, I should encourage a young man to devote his life to God, but as a man, and as his father, albeit an absent one, I would not recommend a life in Holy Orders for someone who doesn’t wish for it. I remember how hopeless and bitter I felt when my father announced to me that I had been pledged to the Church. I wouldn’t force that on anyone.”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him, but I think he would welcome it. Edwin is frightened by his condition. At times, the fits are so severe that he breaks bones. He suffers terribly, Avery. I must help him in any way I can.”
Avery shook his head in consternation. “He breaks bones?”
“He is your son. You must help him. You have influence,” Petra hissed.
Avery sighed. “Petra, there’s something I must tell you.”
Avery was about to say something when Nan entered, carrying the stewed fruit. She set about clearing away the empty crockery while stealing quick glances at the priest. She was nervous around him, as if he would condemn her for eternity if the pie hadn’t been to his liking. Petra suspected that Nan couldn’t reconcile Avery’s good looks with his calling. She was torn between her growing attraction to him and her fear of repercussions for her impure thoughts.
“The meal was superb,” Avery said kindly, noting Nan’s nervousness. “I ate more than I should have.”
“I’m glad you liked it, Father Avery,” Nan said, blushing.
“Your cooking can lead a man to gluttony,” Avery said. He meant it as a joke, but Nan paled visibly, nearly dropping the carafe she was holding.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I meant no harm.”
“I was joking, my child,” Avery said, smiling at her. “I only meant to compliment your skill.”
“I have no wish to lead anyone into temptation,” Nan whispered and fled.
Avery looked after her with consternation. He’d meant to put her at ease, but instead made her flustered and confused.
“Is it safe to have some fruit, or will she think she’s paved my way to Hell?” Avery asked as he reached for the steaming bowl.
“Pay her no mind,” Petra replied. She’d have a word with Nan later assure her that Avery hadn’t meant anything sinister by his comment.
Avery finished the fruit and pushed away the bowl. “I haven’t had fruit in weeks. It’s such a welcome change from the gruel the monks normally eat. I must return to the priory though, no matter how much I wish I could stay. It’s been such a joy to see you, Petra.”
Avery got to his feet and began to walk toward the door with Petra hot on his heels. She could hear the sound of crashing crockery coming from the kitchen, and hoped Nan wouldn’t overhear over the din.
“What about Edwin?” she demanded. She couldn’t let Avery leave without some sort of reassurance, but Avery seemed reluctant to commit to any sort of action.
“We’ll speak again soon. I must think on it. Give my regards to Lady Blythe. I will call on her tomorrow,” Avery said as he walked out of the house, leaving Petra feeling more unsettled than before he arrived.
Chapter 23
Father Avery hurried down the street, eager to get as far away from Petra as possible. Seeing her after all this time, and actually speaking to her, brought back memories he’d tried to suppress for twelve long years, and his soul was in turmoil. Petra knew how much he resented being packed off to the seminary, but she never knew how much he’d really had to sacrifice. It wasn’t just the emotional void of never having a family of his own or a woman to hold, but much more than that. As a priest, he wasn’t entitled to a single thought that wasn’t controlled by the Church. His every hour was accounted for, his every action scrutinized. He thought he found an outlet when he’d been invited to teach at Oxford, but what he meant to tell Petra, but never got the chance, was that he’d left Oxford under a cloud.
Staying at Greyfriars Priory was not a choice, but a penance. He’d been sent to the monks as a warning, and offered a glimpse into what his life would be if he failed to mend his ways. Avery had great respect for the monks, and admired their dedication and lack of personal ambition, but that wasn’t the life he wanted for himself. Spending his days behind the walls of the monastery, his every hour filled with either work or prayer was not an existence he could tolerate. He’d been his happiest at Oxford, exposed to learned men and new ideas, surrounded by students, not only of theology, but of general knowledge — a knowledge he craved. The world was changing, people’s ideas evolving, but he was eternally trapped in an institution that feared change and peddled ignorance and fear.
The monks at Greyfriars assumed that he was doing penance for an inappropriate relationship with a woman. Thankfully, the bishop saw no reason to enlighten them as to the nature of Avery’s transgression, but it didn’t really matter. Penance was penance, and locking Avery away from the world was the harshest punishment the bishop could think of. Avery was by no means a prisoner at the priory, but he was on a short leash, his activities outside the walls of the monastery noted and reported to the bishop. Bringing an afflicted child into the monastery as an apprentice scribe would draw scrutiny from above and raise questions about his relationship with the family. His father was not the only one who knew of Avery’s devotion to Petra when he was a young man. Questions would be asked. Judgments would be passed. He would be putting himself at risk.
Avery left the town behind and entered a lonely stretch of road that led to the priory. The wind picked up. It howled and moaned, reminding him of that silly legend his mother always went on about, about the fair maiden who’d thrown her heart into the sea. Today, he could almost believe that a woman’s cries carried on the wind. Perhaps that woman was Petra. How could he deny her plea for help when he’d left her pregnant and alone, forced to fend for herself in a world where a woman was nothing more than the property of her father or husband. Petra had been forced to marry in haste and submit to a man who treated her cruelly. And their poor son. The boy suffered at the hands of his brutal step-father, and it was Avery’s duty to help him make his way in the world.
Avery stopped, the wind whipping the skirts of his clerical robe as he stood in the middle of the road. He had to see him. He had to see his son. Despite his father’s handiwork, Avery had managed to leave a part of himself behind, and the thought made his heart soar. He wasn’t just an empty vessel, a useless husk gutted by the Church; he was a father, and a man, and he had to help his boy.
Chapter 24
January 2014
Edinburgh, Scotland
Gabe set down his empty glass. It was time to go, but he had no desire to return to the room he shared with Quinn. He was still angry and upset, despite the three glasses of whisky he’d just downed. The alcohol took the edge off, as it usually did, but Gabe’s mind was still crystal clear, his thoughts swirling around in self-destructive patterns. Truth be told, he was upset long before Quinn even came back, which was why he’d decided to go to bed and not drive himself mad while he waited for her. He wasn’t so much worried for her safety as for her state of mind. Like so ma
ny adopted children, she’d fantasized about her birth parents and had elevated them to God-like status in her mind, having no real character flaws to pin on them. No child wanted to believe that their parent had been a prostitute, or a junkie, or just someone who couldn’t get rid of their infant fast enough. They chose to believe that their parents had been beautiful, idealistic, and in love when they were conceived, and that insurmountable obstacles prevented them from keeping their beloved child.
As far as birth mothers went, Sylvia Wyatt certainly wasn’t the worst candidate, but her story had broken something in Quinn, and now she was determined to find the man who fathered her through an act of violence. Given the circumstances, Gabe couldn’t imagine that Quinn genuinely hoped for a relationship with the man, so what exactly would bring her a sense of resolution? She hadn’t been herself since finding out about the night she was conceived, and the force that drove her to seek out these men was more destructive than healthy.
Gabe understood Quinn’s desire to look her biological father in the face, but this wasn’t the woman he knew. His Quinn would have confronted the man head-on, instead of going to his room when she knew exactly what he was after, and then threatening him with exposure when things didn’t go her way. She was allowing her emotions to get in the way of personal safety and good sense, and Gabe was worried about what this would do to her in the long run.
If Robert Chatham turned out to be a match, Quinn would still not be satisfied, especially since she disliked the man so intensely. Perhaps, in time, she might have reconciled herself to Rhys Morgan, who seemed to be a good man despite the mistakes of his youth. Robert Chatham was an entirely different article, and a nasty one at that. And if Chatham proved not to be a match, then Quinn would move Heaven and Earth to find Seth Besson, who at this point could be anywhere. Just knowing that he was the last man standing would not appease Quinn, but she’d need to meet the man and evaluate him for herself.
Gabe sighed and seriously considered ordering another drink, but they were picking up Emma in a few hours, so he had to be sober and alert. The thought of Emma instantly put a smile on his face. He wished with all his heart that Emma hadn’t lost her mother, but now that he knew she was his, he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He’d known her for only a few days, but she’d already kindled something within him that was so powerful that it fascinated and scared him in equal parts. He still had to keep reminding himself that this was real, and once they left Edinburgh, Emma would be his responsibility. The thought sobered him, but the joy he felt when imagining her in his life forever took his breath away. How could he not have known that he was a dad? How was it that his subconscious did not alert him to the fact that a part of him was out there in the world, going about her childish business and spending day after day without knowing of his existence?
And now Quinn, who was going through this existential turmoil, had been cast in the role of mother without any warning or choice, and had to deal with life-altering circumstances at a time when she should have been enjoying her time as a bride-to-be. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to spring parenthood on her or to expect her to simply step into the role of mum without any reservations, but part of him wished that Quinn would just give up this quest of hunting down her father and concentrate on the situation life had handed them. The next few months would be crucial, and, selfish as it sounded, he needed her support.
Gabe got to his feet and walked out of the dimly lit bar. There had been at least a dozen people when he’d come in a few hours ago, but now the bar was almost empty, the bartender wiping down the counter and collecting used glasses in preparation for closing. It was later than Gabe had realized. He walked the few blocks back to the hotel and entered the lobby, which was deserted. The night porter had snuck off to the back office and was watching television, a cup of coffee in his hand. Gabe walked quietly past and, instead of taking the stairs to the second floor, continued on to the guest lounge at the back of the building. There were several wing chairs arranged in front of the cold fireplace and a comfortable sofa bracketed by end tables piled with magazines and newspapers. It would have to do. He’d have to be up in a few hours anyway. Gabe stretched out on the sofa and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of leering men and giggling little girls.
Chapter 25
When Quinn woke up, ribbons of salmon-colored sky were already unfurling above the tree tops, just visible through the net curtains at the window. The sound of passing cars could be heard from outside, and somewhere nearby, a door slammed. The water was running in the bathroom, and Gabe emerged a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist and smelling of aftershave.
“Good morning,” Quinn said, striving for normalcy. “Where did you go last night?”
“Out,” was Gabe’s curt reply. He prepared his clothes for the day and began to toss everything else into his traveling case in preparation for departure. Normally, Gabe would fold his shirts and separate clean clothes from the items he’d already worn, but this morning, he just threw everything in randomly, clearly still angry.
“Gabe, I was really upset last night,” Quinn said, hoping to draw him into conversation and clear the air. This wasn’t the first time Gabe had been angry with her, but normally, his anger melted away once they talked things out, and he’d had a chance to explain his point of view. But Gabe wasn’t taking the bait.
“That makes two of us,” he spat out and turned his back on her.
“Why are you so angry?” Quinn cried. He was replying to her, but just barely, and the rigid set of his shoulders and the muscle working in his jaw were obvious indications that he was furious. Gabe turned to face her and threw her a look of utter incredulity.
“Why am I angry?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Well, let’s see. Could it be because you lied to me? You said that you would be in a crowded room surrounded by other people at all times. You promised me you’d be safe. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. You knowingly went to the room of a man who’s raped before, a man who could have overpowered you with one hand tied behind his back,” Gabe retorted, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he ran his fingers through his damp hair in agitation.
“You pushed him off? You pushed him off because he allowed you to. He could have done anything he wanted to you, and no jury would convict him. You gave your consent simply by going to his room with him. No woman goes to a man’s hotel room without realizing that she’s been invited there for sex.”
“Do you honestly think that I went there to have sex with him?” Quinn cried, outraged.
“No, I don’t. That would be rather twisted, given that he might be your father. I think that you knowingly put yourself in danger to collect a few worthless DNA samples, and by doing that, you put me and Emma in danger as well, because if he hurt you, I would have killed him with my bare hands, and Emma would lose her one remaining parent, since I’d be spending the rest of my life in prison.”
Quinn just stared, open-mouthed. She’d never seen Gabe this angry or heard him speak this way.
“Gabe, you’re overreacting,” she replied, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to him. Gabe’s eyes glinted with fury, and he advanced on her, making her back away from him toward the bed.
“Am I? I’ve always believed myself to be a rational, civilized human being, but I realized something last night when I smelled that bastard on you. I’m no different from any other man who’s been driven to extreme measures in a moment of passion and acted on instinct rather than sense. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do someone harm, and I would have, had he given me reason to. I would have killed him without a second thought if he raped you, and would have lost everything I hold dear in the process. I would have lost Emma and you,” he whispered.
“Gabe, I’m sorry. I really am. I wasn’t thinking,” Quinn pleaded. She went to him and tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but Gabe stepped back, leaving her standing there like a fool.
“No, you weren’t.
Now, get dressed and pack your things. We are picking up Emma in an hour.”
“Well, at least we’ll be home by dinnertime,” Quinn said, her voice flat. When she left for the cocktail party last night she couldn’t have imagined the fallout she’d have to deal with this morning. Perhaps Gabe was right. She’d been stupid, reckless, and inconsiderate. She never gave Gabe a second thought when she went up to Chatham’s room, focusing only on herself and her need to know the truth.
“We are not going home,” Gabe replied.
“Where are we going?”
“We are going to Berwick. My parents are desperate to meet Emma, and I think we need a few days alone to sort things out and prepare my flat for Emma. Now, are you just going to stand there?” he asked, giving her a hard look.
Quinn turned away from Gabe, so he wouldn’t see the tears that sprang to her eyes. Gabe’s anger was worse than the fear she felt last night when Chatham pinned her against the wall, making her feel helpless and vulnerable. Gabe’s anger cut deep because the thought of losing his love left Quinn feeling utterly gutted and lost. She never felt this kind of pain when Luke left her. It had been hurtful and shocking, but not visceral. Quinn turned back and threw herself at Gabe, nearly knocking him off his feet. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.
“I’m sorry. I’ll never do anything so stupid again,” Quinn cried. “I didn’t realize. I never considered the consequences.”
Her lips found Gabe’s, and she pressed them to his, willing him to kiss her back as she held on to him for dear life. She felt his body tense against hers and thought that he’d push her away, but instead, he lifted her to her feet and carried her to the bed. Gabe tossed his towel to the floor and was on top of her in seconds, his mouth devouring hers and his knee pushing her legs apart. There was no foreplay, just the raw, all-consuming collision of two people who were overcome with emotion and need for each other. It didn’t last long, and they were both panting by the time it was over, but they had made their peace and forgiven each other. Gabe rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 12