Finding Isadora (49 page)

Family? I didn
’t dare look at Gabriel.

“
In all the years since Gabriel and Diane separated,” Maria said, “all the times he is here—two, three times a week—never has he brought a girl home. And now you.”

Home? The truth sank in. Maria was a surrogate mother to Gabriel.

“And now you,” he echoed.

I turned to him, saw the glow in his eyes, and realized it was his confession of love. Whether he realized it or not.

I wanted to hug him, but it might have made him pause and think about what he’d said, and maybe pull back. Instead, I hugged Maria. “Thank you. I’m honored to be here, and so happy to meet you.”

She squeezed me tightly, then turned to Gabriel and let loose with another tumble of melodious Portuguese.

“What?” I asked him.

He didn
’t quite meet my eyes when he replied. “Uh, she says you’re lovely, and exactly what she would have chosen for me.”

“
And then I say,” Maria added, staring at him accusingly, “that it is past time he found a good woman and settled down and had more babies.”

“
You forgot to translate that part,” I pointed out to him.

“
I’m hungry,” he said quickly, his gaze darting from my face to the older woman’s. “Maria, something smells wonderful.”

I rolled my eyes at his avoidance tactic.

“Always smells wonderful in here,” she said. “And you change subject.”

I stifled a giggle, realizing her mind worked the same way
mine did.

Then she smiled widely.
“Is shrimps you smell. We have very good shrimps tonight, grilled with garlic butter. You will have that, with
caldo verde
to start.” It was a statement, not a question.

“
What’s
caldo
… ?”

“
Caldo verde
,” Gabriel said. “Literally, green soup. Made with kale. It’s delicious.” He turned to Maria. “And a bottle of
vinho verde
.”

“
Yes, of course. What else would you drink with shrimps?” She bustled off.

“
Vinho verde?
” I repeated. “Does that translate to green wine?”

“
Yes, that’s right. It’s young white wine, very refreshing.”

“
Sounds good.” I studied him. “Maria’s wonderful. She’s the one who helped you after … after your parents died, right?”

He nodded.
“I’ve known her since I was seven or so. She and her first husband, Benedito, were from the same town in Portugal as my mom. They came over here, and though my father really didn’t let Mom have friends, she and Maria managed to get together for coffee occasionally. Benedito was a tile layer and did beautiful work. He died in his forties. Heart attack. Maria struggled as a widow with kids, then she met Martin Russ, a Haida from the Queen Charlottes, who was widowed himself, and they got married.”

“
I noticed her beautiful jewelry.”

“
Martin owns a First Nations arts and crafts store in Gastown. Maria’s always wanted to have a restaurant, and he financed her to start it up. They have four kids: two from her first marriage, one from his, and one together. On any given night, you can figure on one or two of their kids showing up for dinner here, along with their families or whoever they’re dating.”

Gabriel had shown up
regularly too, maybe with colleagues or friends, but never—since Diane—with a date. Until me.

To hell with his terror. I smiled at him across the table.
“I love you, Gabriel.”

His jaw dropped.

Maria picked that moment to bustle up with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.

Gabriel stared at her as if he didn
’t recognize her, then gave himself a shake. “Give it to me. You always get cork in it.”

“
No, is my job.”

“
It’s not your job to get cork in my wine.” He grabbed the bottle from her. “Let me do it, Maria.”

I sensed this was a family ritual they both enjoyed. Grumbling, she handed over the corkscrew.

He made a lengthy and rather clumsy production of opening the wine.

Maria snort
ed, and I guessed he was normally more efficient.

God knows where I got the confidence, but when he
’d finished and Maria had poured wine into both our glasses, settled the bottle in a cooler, and left us alone, I said, “How do you say it in Portuguese, Gabriel?”

His eyes widened and he cleared his throat.
“Say what?
Vinho verde?
” He raised his glass and sniffed.

I raised mine toward him.
“I love you.”

He froze in the act of smelling his wine. Then, very slowly, he lifted his head and
met my gaze. “
Eu amo-te
.”

Those words, in his voice
. Directed to me. I wanted to cry with happiness. “That’s beautiful. Say it again.”

His lips curve
d and his eyes started to sparkle. “You’re a witch, you know that?”

“
What do you mean?” I asked with pretend innocence.

He raised his glass and clicked it against mine.
“Fuck. I guess it means I love you. To the extent I even know what those words mean. But you’re teaching me, Isadora. Proving your point that old dogs can learn new tricks.”

My eyes mist
ed and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“
So, yeah,” he went on. “I’ll say those words in Portuguese.
Eu amo-te
. In Italian, it’s
ti amo.
Then there’s plain old English. I love you, Isadora.” He reached for my hand and his grip was firm. “I’ve never said those words to anyone before.”

“
N-never?”

He closed his eyes, then shook his head.
“I lied. My mother.”

I wrapped both my hands around his
and blinked back tears. “I love you, Gabriel. Teach me how to say it in your languages.”

He nodded.
“You taught me how to feel love. Yes, I’ll teach you how to say it. Portuguese first.
Eu amo-te.
”

“
Eu amo-te
,” I repeated, my voice shaky. The mist in my eyes had turned to tears, ready to overflow.

“
Caldo verde
now, romance later,” Maria said, plunking bowls of soup down in front of us. “Then babies.”

“
I think that’s a good order,” I said, choking back the tears and trying not to laugh at Gabriel’s stunned expression.

“
Eat your soup,” Maria ordered, then bustled away.

Deciding to take mercy on Gabriel—after all, if I had my way I
’d have the rest of our lives to torment him—I tasted the soup. “You’re right. This is delicious. I wonder if she’d part with the recipe.”

“
Nope. But she’ll feed it to you any time you come in.”

He reached for his wine glass and took another drink. I watched his hand, so long-fingered, with that unique combination of grace and strength that was Gabriel.

“Will you play the guitar for me?” I asked.

He frowned, clearly not following my train of thought.
“The guitar?”

“
I was looking at your hands.”

He glanced down at them, still frowning.
“My hands? What?”

O
ne day I’d tell him how sexy those hands were. “You do play, right?”

“
Sure. Often before I go to bed. It’s a way of relaxing, mellowing out.”

“
Folk songs?”

“
Mostly Portuguese ones. Sometimes in a group we’ll get going on old folk songs, protest songs.”

“
Richard says you have a good voice.”

“
He does?” He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“
When he was out with Caroline and Eric, he remembered how you’d play the guitar. How you and Diane sang with him. It was a warm memory. He’s softening, Gabriel.”

“
And now I have to tell him about us,” he said glumly. “If anything’s guaranteed to harden him again…”

“
Once he gets over his first negative reaction, he’ll think about it,” I said, praying it would be true.

“
Sure hope so.”

“
You’re really worried about talking to him.”

“
Scared shitless,” he confessed. Then he gave a rueful shrug. “But maybe that’s an improvement over the way things used to be. Before Friday night, I can’t remember the last time Richard and I really talked. I felt like I’d lost him and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“
You once said you hate doing things you’re not good at.”

“
Yeah. So I didn’t try. Now, at least I’m trying. And he was too, last night.”

Maria bustled up.
“How is soup? Good, yes?”

“
Very good,” I told her as she topped up our wine glasses.

When she hurried away to greet new customers, Gabriel said wryly,
“At least someone approves.”

“
Janice approves. She thinks you’re hot.”

He kinked an eyebrow.
“The lady has good taste.”

“
And you have a big ego.” I sent him a teasing grin. “Though I’m not saying she’s wrong.” I thought about my friend and shook my head. “Poor Jan’s had bad luck with relationships. She’s just starting out a new one, and I sure hope it works. Her parents won’t approve—Martin is Cree, younger, way less educated—but he’s a wonderful man. He works as an assistant at the clinic and he’s studying to be a vet.”

Gabriel was watching me closely, and I broke off.
“You don’t want to hear this.”

“
I do. I like Janice. I look forward to knowing her better.”

“
We could double-date.”

He grimaced.
“God, Isadora, it sounds so high school.” Then he shrugged. “But sure. Think they’d like to try Portuguese food?” Then he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute, Martin is the guy you told me about, right? The one who turned his life around, partly thanks to the Multicultural Center?”

When I nodded, he said,
“I’ve been thinking about that idea you had, about involving some of the success stories in the fundraising. Martin would be perfect. Do you figure he’d be willing to come along to lunch with a donor who’s looking to get more involved at the hands-on level?”

“
He’d be flattered to be asked. But Gabriel, he’s quite shy. This donor isn’t too high-powered?”

“
I’m not sure I’m the best to judge that.” There was an
I know something you don’t know
teasing note in his voice.

“
Oh?”

“
Yeah. She phoned yesterday, saying she’d like to do something more than just write a check every year and show up for the AGM.”

“
Sounds good.” But why did he sound so smug?

“
You’ve been recruiting again.”

“
What?” And then it dawned on me. “Not Althea Fitzsimmons?”

He nodded.
“It’s amazing the influence you have on people.”

“
No more than they have on me.” I smiled to myself, thinking of my conversation with Althea. If we hadn’t talked yesterday, would I be here with Gabriel now?

“
She and Martin would be a perfect match,” I said. “They’re both a little reticent, but their mutual love of animals would get them over the initial awkwardness.”

Thinking of awkward conversations,
I finished the last spoonful of the delicious soup and reached over to thread my fingers through his. “How did it go with Jimmy Lee this afternoon? At first you looked like you were having an argument, but then you shook hands.”

“
He was being a protective dad.” He shrugged. “Says he likes me, but he’s not sure I’m the best person for you.”

“
Because?”

“
Well, he started out by reminding me you’re from a different generation and—”

“
Damn it, I told him not to be ageist.”

He laughed.
“Thanks for defending me, but that wasn’t his point. He wanted me to know you weren’t in to all that free love stuff.”

I
’d known we would have to have this conversation sooner or later. So I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Okay, Gabriel, how
do
you feel about free love?”

His eyes narrowed.
“How would I feel if you slept with another man? I’d want to punch him.”