February 2014
Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland
The day was mild for the beginning of February, the approach of spring just discernible in the air. The wind of the previous day had died down, and the sun that played peek-a-boo with the clouds held just the tiniest bit of warmth. Gabe gazed out the library window, his eyes never leaving Emma, who ran around happily with Buster. Graham Russell did his best to keep up with his granddaughter as he threw the ball across the lawn and cheered Emma to get it before the puppy did. Emma was laughing, her cheeks rosy with cold and her yellow wellies flashing by as she ran after the puppy who barked happily. Buster hadn’t had this much fun since arriving from the kennel just before Christmas.
“Fancy a cuppa?” Phoebe Russell asked as she came into the library, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea and a plate of freshly-baked scones.
“Thanks, Mum,” Gabe replied and took the tray from his mother, setting it on a low table in front of the hearth. A cheery fire burned in the grate, making the room feel snug and welcoming, and Gabe felt that wonderful sense of belonging that he experienced whenever he came home.
Phoebe settled herself in her favorite chair and took a sip of tea before reaching for a scone. It was still warm, with fresh strawberry preserves spread in the middle and a dollop of clotted cream to complete its perfection. Delicious. Phoebe pushed the plate toward Gabe, urging him to take one. She loved elevenses. It was the perfect time of the day to take a break, enjoy a cup of tea, and have a little something to tide one over until lunch, which was usually at one. Phoebe took a bite of scone and chewed thoughtfully.
The past two days had been a revelation and a joy. Meeting Emma had been one of the happiest moments of Phoebe’s life, and the spark the little girl lit in her aging husband was remarkable. Phoebe hadn’t seen Graham this animated in years, possibly never; he hadn’t been very hands-on with Gabe, preferring to read the paper or work on the estate instead of playing games with his son. Seeing Graham running around after Emma was almost surreal, and wonderful.
The child, who looked so much like their son, walked into their stuffy old pile and filled it with sunshine, illuminating every dark corner and murky corridor. Ironic how terrible tragedy often led to unbearable joy. A granddaughter. Phoebe still couldn’t say the word out loud, thinking it secretly to herself and smiling as if it were a delicious secret. A beautiful granddaughter, she thought and grinned into her mug.
She’d known Emma for only two days, but thought her heart would burst with the love she felt for the child. She’d tell her siblings and friends soon enough, but for the moment, she wanted to keep this miracle all to herself. She’d be even happier if she wasn’t so worried about Gabe. He wasn’t himself. True, he’d just gotten engaged to the woman he’d loved for eight years and, within two weeks, his world turned on its axis, and he got full custody of the daughter he’d known nothing about, but it was more than that. Something was troubling her boy.
“Where’s Quinn this morning?” Phoebe asked. Her tone was light, but her gaze fixed on her son, accessing his expression. She noted that he hadn’t taken a scone, and that was alarming within itself. Gabe never passed up on homemade goodies.
“She’s having a bit of lie-in. She has a headache,” Gabe replied.
“Everything all right between you two?” Phoebe asked. Graham always told her that she was too nosey and should leave Gabe to sort out his own problems, but Phoebe thought that to be absolute nonsense. To ignore your child’s pain was paramount to admitting that you didn’t care. She cared; she cared a lot, and she’d be damned if she let her boy suffer without trying to help him.
“Of course, Mum,” Gabe replied, but the tightening of the jaw and the defensive stance weren’t lost on Phoebe. Even the way he held his mug of tea showed tension.
“Gabe, are you all right?” Phoebe asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’ve been here for two days, and the only time I’ve seen you smile was when you look at Emma. What is it, son?”
“I don’t know, Mum,” Gabe replied, exhaling loudly. He slumped into a chair across from Phoebe and set down his mug, his hands gripping the armrests as if he were experiencing turbulence on an airplane. “I can’t put it into words.”
“Try,” Phoebe encouraged. “It helps to talk.”
Gabe shook his head and shrugged in frustration. He’d always been articulate and straightforward, but at the moment, he seemed to have trouble expressing his feelings, possibly because he was having so many of them all at once. He was also a British male, and therefore not someone accustomed to wearing his heart on his sleeve. There were times when Phoebe envied the Americans their penchant for oversharing. There was such a thing as giving too much away, but at times, it was probably very liberating to just say what one thought without fear of appearing weak or worrying about the reaction of others. It was too late to change Graham, who never volunteered anything of a personal nature without being threatened with bodily harm by his frustrated wife, but Phoebe still had high hopes for Gabe, especially since Quinn wasn’t the type of woman to shy away from difficult conversations and would never think less of Gabe for having fears or succumbing to momentary bouts of weakness.
“Well, if you’re not ready…” Phoebe said, going for reverse psychology. It used to work when Gabe was an adolescent and getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth.
“It’s not that,” Gabe replied, giving her a weak smile. He knew exactly what she was up to, and a spark of understanding passed between them before Gabe’s gaze slid toward the roaring fire, the connection broken.
“It’s just that…” He let the sentence trail off, clearly lost for words.
“What?” Phoebe pressed.
Gabe tore his eyes away from the fire and faced her, having made up his mind to talk. “I’ve dreamed of Quinn for eight years, Mum. I thought that if I ever had her love, I’d be invincible. I knew exactly how I’d feel and what I’d want,” Gabe began, spreading his hands as if trying to grasp the idea he was trying to convey. “I thought I’d be so happy.”
“Aren’t you?” Phoebe asked. Perhaps Gabe had put Quinn on a pedestal for so long that the reality didn’t live up to the fantasy, but Phoebe had known Quinn for years and couldn’t imagine a woman more perfect for her son. What had gone wrong between them in the short time they’d been together?
Gabe nodded. “I am. I’m happy, but I’m also…” his voice trailed off again. “And now with Emma…”
Gabe stared behind his mother’s shoulder for a moment, lost in thought. He had a look of intense concentration just like he used to when he was little and tried to explain something that was beyond him. Phoebe’s heart turned over with love for this man-child who seemed to be struggling with his feelings so much.
“I thought I was strong, Mum. I thought I was in control, and that I had some say in what happened to me. I believed myself to be able to handle anything that life threw at me, but at this moment, I feel as if I’d been cleft right down the middle, my innermost fears and thoughts tumbling out and getting the better of me. I’m scared, and my fear makes me feel helpless,” Gabe confessed. He turned back toward the hearth, reluctant to see his mother’s reaction to such weakness. He’d never admit any of this to his father, who would likely just clap him on the shoulder and tell him to man up.
Phoebe set down her mug and came up behind Gabe’s chair. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head like she did when he was a boy and knew that he wouldn’t welcome a full-on cuddle from Mum. Phoebe pressed her cheek against his temple and smiled to herself. He was shaken by his feelings, but she finally understood exactly what he was going through.
“Gabe, I liked your father very much when we first married, but I’d be lying if I said that I was madly in love with him. In my day, girls didn’t look for love the way they do now, nor did they give much thought to sexual compatibility; we didn’t know such a thing even existed, not until it was too late to do anything about it. Your father was my first and last, and we rubbed along well enough together all these years,” she said. Gabe didn’t interrupt to ask what on earth she was talking about. He was used to her round-about way of making a point.
“It wasn’t until you came along after the disappointment of two miscarriages that I experienced what you’re feeling now. I held you in my arms, you looked at me, and I felt the kind of all-encompassing love that took my breath away. The knowledge that you were mine to love and protect made me tremble with fear. I was the only thing that stood between you and anything that might hurt you, the only line of defense. I was strong before you were born, but after only a day, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t stop crying. I suppose they’d call it post-natal depression these days, but it was just overwhelming fear that I would let you down somehow, and you would suffer through my incompetence.”
Gabe turned to face his mother, taking her hand in his. “Mum, I don’t understand,” he said gently. His mother never spoke to him like this, never shared so openly. He hadn’t even known about the miscarriages. It wasn’t a subject his parents would deem appropriate, and the fact that she was telling him now baffled him.
Phoebe came around and sat across from him again, leaning toward him in her eagerness to explain. “Son, you’ve finally won the woman you’ve worshipped for nearly a decade, and then a short while later you were presented not only with a child, but with the sole responsibility for that child. For the first time in your life, you love so deeply that you are undone by your vulnerability. The thought of losing either Emma or Quinn is so frightening that you feel helpless and confused, unsure of what to do to keep them safe, and to keep yourself safe for them.”
Phoebe reached out and cupped Gabe’s cheek, smiling at his bewilderment.
“You’re experiencing what every new parent feels, only you also have a new love on top of that. You want to be the best possible parent to Emma, but you’re also worried about what this will do to your relationship with Quinn. She seems genuinely fond of Emma, but Emma is your child, not hers, and this is a time in her life when she thought she’d have your undivided attention. You’re walking a fine line right now, and you must make sure not to alienate Quinn as you work to find your footing with Emma. Try not to complicate the situation any further by adding more variables to the equation.”
“Variables? Mum, what are you talking about?” Gabe asked, gaping at Phoebe as he tried to figure out where she was going with this mathematical reference. Phoebe sighed with impatience. Why did men, even highly intelligent ones like her Gabe, always need things to be explained to them? Any woman would have instantly taken her meaning.
“Gabriel, when you have a baby, it should be a joyful event for you both, not something to be juggled along with everything else you have going on in your life at the moment. Right now, you need to focus on your daughter. You need to work out the delicate balance between bride and child before you add another child into the mix.”
“What makes you think there’ll be another child?” Gabe asked, coloring slightly. He still felt awkward discussing his sex life with his mother, but Phoebe’s matter-of-fact tone made it easier to believe that they were just two adults discussing a run-of-the-mill matter.
“Being in love generally leads to babies,” Phoebe said with a smile. “Especially when you are too distracted to think about practicalities,” she added meaningfully, making Gabe groan as he rolled his eyes in mock horror.
“Listen to your mother. I know a thing or two about life,” Phoebe said, hands on hips.
“Mum, how did you get to be so wise?” Gabe asked as he tried to keep the grin off his face.
“I don’t know. It’s a gift,” Phoebe joked, making Gabe chuckle. It was nice to see him laugh. “Does this mean I’ve helped?” Phoebe asked.
Gabe nodded, smiling into her eyes. “Yes, Mum, you’ve hit the nail on the head, as you always do. I never realized that loving someone so completely leaves you so vulnerable. I keep thinking of all the things that can go wrong, and I’m paralyzed with fear, terrified that I won’t be able to fix it.”
“Something happened with Quinn while you were in Scotland, didn’t it?” Phoebe asked. Gabe paled visibly, so she waved her hand, dismissing the question. She no longer required an answer; Gabe’s reaction was enough.
“Son, go upstairs and spend some time with your fiancée. We’ll look after Emma. Show Quinn some affection, but remember what I said,” Phoebe said, giving Gabe a stern look.
“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe chuckled. “No more grandchildren for you.”
“Let me enjoy this one first,” Phoebe said as she rose to her feet. “I think I’ll join them outside. They’re having way too much fun without me.”