“How did Simon die?”
“His heart tore free of his aorta with the impact of the crash. He bled to death internally. It was quick; he didn’t suffer.” Gabriel folded his arms and collapsed onto the table with a soft thump. “Why, Marianne?” he mumbled into his arms. “Why did you sleep with my brother?”
A cobweb Mrs. Tandy had missed with her long feather duster dangled in the corner of the ceiling.
“Because you wouldn’t touch me,” she said.
Gabriel sat up straight. “I asked you to wait until I was ready. I thought you’d agreed.”
“You never suspected anything, in all those months?”
He shook his head slowly. “I knew things were off between us, and Simon went after me more than usual, but I was working round the clock to pay for the ring, and when I wasn’t, I was revising for my exams like everybody else—including you, I assumed. Was it so hard to wait for me?”
“It wasn’t hard, it was impossible. We’d been fooling around for years, and my sex drive suddenly ramped up. I wanted to do it. Like a rabbit—all the time. And Simon was the guy every sixth former at my school fantasized about and yet he was interested in me.” She tapped her chest. “Me, a kid in the fifth form. But the first time, it sort of happened because you weren’t around, and—”
“You’re blaming me?” He wobbled up to standing.
“No, no. That came out wrong. I wanted someone to hang out with—to party with. And Simon had no plans and tons of alcohol. Then we did it again. And again.”
He kicked back his chair. “I get the picture, Marianne.” His blue eyes bored into her with contempt.
Maybe pushing Gabriel’s buttons had been a really, really bad idea.
“It was mindless fun.” She kept her voice as level as if she were humming a single note. “A game. That was all. We were never a couple.”
“And how did you think it was going to turn out, this game?” Gabriel finished his drink in one gulp. “You knew I loved you.”
“I loved you too.”
“You had a bloody strange way of showing it. And as for Simon? He wrecked my life and then he died.”
“Time-out, Gabriel. I threw myself at your brother. What eighteen-year-old guy is going to say no to that?”
“You don’t believe in free choice? You want to say, ‘Any bloke who commits rape isn’t at fault if the woman is wearing a short skirt and flashes her eyes at him’?” His voice gained volume like a hurricane sucking up strength out over the ocean. “Simon had a conscience. He knew you were mine.”
“Whoa, double time-out. I’m no one’s.”
He slammed his hands down on the table, and she jumped.
“You and I were inseparable. He used to torment us, for goodness’ sake.”
“Gabriel, Simon was in a bad place when we hooked up. I know what depression looks like. I don’t think he cared about anything at that point.”
“So depression stripped away his morality? As Jade would say, bullshit.” He threw his glass at the fridge, and it shattered. She stayed quiet. Would he hurt her? Had she pushed him to the point of no return?
“He knew I loved you and he slept with you anyway. He didn’t care. He took it from me, Marianne. All of it. You, my future, he took it for no other reason than he could.” In one swift movement, he swept the clutter of phone directories, papers, and cookbooks off the pine dresser. Gabriel collapsed onto his knees. “And I hated him. I hated him for what he did. I hate him still. I may preach forgiveness, but I will never forgive my own brother. I hate him.” His voice cracked. “And I hate you.”
Fists clenched, he pounded at his temples. Gabriel, the most solid person she’d ever known, finally got it—the pull of emotions too powerful to ignore.
Watching for shards of glass, she crawled across the kitchen floor toward him. He tried to push her away, but his movements were sloppy, uncoordinated. Intoxicated. When he fell against her, she massaged his back. Had she ever been this person—the one who remained in control while the world around her flipped inside out?
“Shhh,” she said, as he juddered. He’d never cried in front of her before. Not even when Simon pushed him through a glass door.
The freezer made a spitting noise, and somewhere a window closed. If Phyllis had heard Gabriel yelling, he would be so embarrassed. They huddled, surrounded by broken glass and chaos. And yet it wasn’t over. She had ruined his life, but she could give him a gift. Although chances were high he would tell her to pack up and leave.
She waited until he grew still and then sat back. “Simon took nothing from you,” she said. “I’m the one who did that. And hating me is a perfectly logical response. To be honest, I’m relieved. I thought you still loved me.”
He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What do you mean?”
She took his hands, slightly damp, and placed them in her lap. “I hadn’t planned to tell you this ever, but finding the ring changed everything. So, here it is. My really big secret.” She blew out a shallow breath. “Wow. Harder than I thought it would be.”
His red eyes stared.
“You never asked my baby’s name. My parents did, but you didn’t. Why?”
“I didn’t want to know.”
“Gabriela. Her name was Gabriela.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“She was yours. Our baby.” Everything blurred at the edge of her sight. “Ours.”
“But we only . . . once . . .”
“February fourteenth, 1984. It only takes once, and we didn’t use protection. You wouldn’t touch me again, and I didn’t know what to do, how to be a single mom at sixteen like my birth mom. I suspected I was pregnant when I slept with Simon. I’d already skipped a period, and my hormones were jumping all over the place. I needed sex, and you wouldn’t come near me. And then everything blew up, including my only shot at motherhood.”
“You let him believe the baby was—”
“Yes. I lied to both of you. Didn’t you ever wonder why Simon kept our relationship secret? Because I made him promise. I was buying time until I figured out what to do. I was simply buying time, Gabriel. And the sex had no consequences in my mind, because I was already pregnant. Which means it’s not Simon you need to forgive. It’s me.”
His chest heaved and he continued to stare. What was he thinking? The blind was back down, the storm had passed. Once again, he was shutting her out.
“The ring, Gabriel, you bought it after we slept together, didn’t you?”
“I was so disappointed in myself,” he said quietly. “At my lack of control. I’d wanted to wait until we were married.”
“That’s why you went on the Easter pilgrimage. I thought you were embarrassed about what had happened, that you wanted to forget.”
“I needed to think. I could never do that when you were near me.” He pushed her hair behind her ear.
“I was going to tell you about the baby, but then Simon figured out I was pregnant. I was lucky that I didn’t have any morning sickness, and I disguised my bulge pretty easily. Mom and Dad knew nothing until I ended up in the hospital. But there’s only so much you can hide from the person you’re sleeping with. Simon thought I was merely putting on weight until my breasts started getting larger.” She sighed. “He was drunk that night because he was pissed at me. When he guessed about the baby, he went apeshit. All the usual stuff—I’d trapped him, he was too young to be a dad, blah, blah, blah. The irony is that he was looking for a way out, and I was about to hand it to him. When you suggested going to the cemetery after the party, like old times, I was finally happy. I figured whatever had gone on between us was over, and I’d tell you about the baby, and it would all work out. That’s why I was singing in the car. Suddenly my life made sense, and then it didn’t. It never made sense again until I met Jade. But Simon was gunning for me that night, trying to figure out his own feelings, and you got caught in the crossfire.”
Gabriel put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wh
ite hanky. He blew his nose, put the hanky back. Said nothing.
“He was locked in his own battle,” she said. “Should he do the right thing or run away? I think he transferred all that to you when he saw us kiss, and I guess the alcohol turned him possessive.”
“I was almost a father. And our baby is buried—”
“Where she was conceived. I didn’t want her alone for all eternity. And then I decided to join her. Everyone thinks I tried to off myself because of Simon’s death. No one knew the truth but Mom and Dad. And now you.” She tried to smile.
“Does Darius know—about any of this?”
“Before he flew home I told him about the baby. He made the same assumption as you and your parents, that Simon was the dad. Telling him would have achieved nothing. Although he might not have let me stay. Gabriel.” She paused. “Do you forgive me?”
He took her hand and held it against his cheek. “Yes. It’s a lot to take in, but thank you. For the truth.” Gabriel looked around his kitchen. “It appears I temporarily lost my mind.”
“Take it from an expert: you’re never truly lost if someone cares enough to come find you. Lost is waiting to be found.”
She got up and went to the tiny pantry to retrieve the broom. While he picked up phone books and papers and piled them back on the dresser, she swept up the glass. They worked to the distant hum of evening traffic.
“I can’t believe I used the word hate. I’m so sorry, Marianne. I had no idea I was capable of saying such heinous things.”
“You buried it because you had to. It’s no different than me refusing to come back here for thirty years.”
“So why did you come back, really?”
“For you.”
“I’m not in love with you. I thought we’d established that.”
“I know, and I’m not in love with you, but I never forgot the feeling of us. I think that’s what I ran back to. Subconsciously I knew there was something here that only you could give me. And now I understand what it is. I thought you could save me. Turns out I had it backward. You were the one who needed saving. Yours was the life I destroyed.”
Gabriel sat down, a little unsteadily. “You didn’t destroy anything. I’m content, and I’m good at my job because I have a detachment that eluded me when I was in love with you. Let’s be honest, I couldn’t see straight when you were within spitting distance.”
“Charming. You just compared me to spit.” She smiled. “But I pretty much ruined your chance of love, marriage, and a baby carriage. I know how much you always wanted kids. That was the one part of the future we agreed on.”
“Loving you never felt like a choice, Marianne. It was too much. A kind of lunacy. I never wanted those extremes again.”
“I can share my lithium anytime you want emotional flatness,” she said. “But you have to give yourself permission to love again. You have so much to offer.”
“Much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I’m settled in my bachelorhood with Hugh. We’ve started planning our retirement cruise.” He paused. “And you, Marianne. Are you happy? Do you love your husband?”
“With all my heart.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock. They still had time. “Come to the cemetery with me, now. Tonight. I want to visit our baby together. Do you still have that old blanket?”
“Sadly, I do. I kept everything that linked me to you.”
“We conceived a baby on that blanket. That’s more than I’ve ever given anyone else. We’re going to face every ghost we can find and then get back to the business of living. But I have to warn you, I need to be tucked up in bed by eleven p.m. That’s my bipolar witching hour.”
Gabriel picked up his now-cold plate from the kitchen table and put it in the microwave. Then he spooned out more lasagna onto a second plate.
“But first,” he said, “we both need to eat. Because if I’m a grumpy bastard when I’m hungry, you’re a snappy little dog.” And then he hiccupped.
FIFTY-FOUR
GABRIEL
Gabriel attempted to push down on the latch of the cemetery gate and missed. Good grief, still blottoed. One fuzzy thought did a slid-slidey thing around his brain: God did not demand perfection. True, but he’d tossed the word hate—and a fair chunk of change about lack of forgiveness—around the rectory as if it were a badminton shuttlecock. He tried to remember another thought, but his mind went blank. Not a sausage in there. Just as well since he’d missed evening prayer. Well, he and God would have plenty to talk about in tomorrow’s chitchat.
Away from the lights of the village, the yew trees and headstones disappeared into a never-ending black hole. Gabriel grappled with the latch a second time.
“Come on, you drunkard.”
The latch clicked up and Marianne brushed past. He attempted to follow but tripped and nearly belly-flopped into the trough of stagnant rainwater used for watering the flowers.
She flicked on the torch she must have grabbed on the way out of the rectory. Following the thin beam, they sidestepped through the maze of closely packed, sunken graves to the end of the second row.
Gabriel leaned on his brother’s headstone for support while Marianne shook out the blanket and sat, cross-legged. He dumped himself down next to her. Off to their right, a creature, probably a badger, snuffled through the undergrowth. The weeds were back. Time to get another volunteer work crew out here.
“What’s going through your mind?” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Drunken disconnect, almighty embarrassment, and a pounding headache.”
“Aspirin and water before bed.” She paused. “Are you angry at me?”
A car crawled by on the road, its headlights briefly illuminating the black gates. Gabriel waited until the cemetery was shrouded, once more, in darkness. Their best conversations had always been here, in the night, when they couldn’t quite see each other. “No. I’m angry at myself. Simon had such charm, but I saw everything he snuck by Mum. Growing up, I believed I had the stronger moral compass.”
“Except for that brief foray into stealing.”
“Fair enough. Apart from a short-lived career as a thief, I was the good son, the one who always washed up the supper things, pegged out the laundry, walked the dog. I always thought I was better than Simon, but I was as weak as he was.”
“You were a teenage boy with a girlfriend who thought she was hot stuff and knew how to get what she wanted. Do you have any idea why I encouraged you to steal candy?”
“To see if I was corruptible?”
“Pretty much. I mean, you took the blame for stuff you hadn’t done, brought home wounded pigeons in your book bag, tried to talk me out of vandalizing Bill’s daffodils. I wanted you to be as wild and crazy as I was, but you always held back. Except for that one night in the cemetery, when we conceived Gabriela. And it was amazing.”
He frowned. “I hurt you. I distinctly remember you telling me it hurt.”
“It did, and it was exquisite. I thought my heart was going to burst. You took over and did something wonderfully irresponsible and impulsive without even asking about birth control. It was as if you were missing in the madness of passion.”
“Let’s not get too romantic. I was a horny teenager.” And then I spent years afterward wrestling with angels . . .
“If I could go back and undo that night we made a baby here, on this blanket, I wouldn’t. Losing my virginity to you is the one part of all this I got right.” She sat up and took his hand. “I’m glad we were each other’s first. That worked out exactly as it should have. I’m just sorry we botched everything that followed. And I think I’d like to say a prayer.”
In one of the yew trees at the back of the cemetery, an owl hooted.
“You don’t believe in God.” He swallowed another hiccup.
“My opinions change with my moods. Honestly, I don’t know what I believe, but right now I’m at peace. And peace is not a destination I visit for long. I want to acknowledge this moment; I want to be thankful
and grateful. If that means saying a prayer, then yes, I guess I’m talking to God.”
“It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea that we had a baby together.”
“You, me, and Gabriela. The family that wasn’t . . . but lives in my heart.”
He tried to imagine Christmases and birthdays, summer Saturdays eating ice cream cones and winter Saturdays building snowmen, but he couldn’t get traction in the memories. They weren’t real; they weren’t meant to exist. His world picture could never have stretched to accommodate a family. Even when he’d bought the ring for Marianne, he never questioned that she would want to live the life he’d chosen. That was the real reason people like him ended up alone: they couldn’t adapt. Whoa, not a great realization to have while blind drunk.
Gabriel stared at the rosebushes growing over the earthly remains of his baby and his brother. In a few weeks the plants would start dropping leaves and prepare to go dormant until spring. Marianne had talked about peace, but how long before he found it? How long before he could sit here and say, “Simon, I’m sorry. Gabriela, I’m sorry.” Gabriel closed his eyes but opened them when a wave of seasickness hit. He tried to focus on what little of the world he could see that wasn’t spinning, and laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Jade. You probably don’t remember, but she was drunk when they arrived. She told me the rectory was spinning.”
“Gabriel, why not leave the village for a while and visit us in North Carolina? You wouldn’t have any expenses once you arrived, and the four of us would have fun together.”
Echoes of Family Page 32