Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four (13 page)

“We’re fortunate to have Miss Loken here to run the library,” Clarissa said.

“Mmm,” Colin murmured, rising from the table. “We’re thankful you’ve both finally made peace.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Clarissa argued, glaring at Colin over her shoulder and earning a wink from him.

“Bad enough. I’m glad to no longer feel guilty for signing out a book from the library and then hiding it from you when you visited,” Savannah said. She laughed at Clarissa’s gasp.

“I’m sorry my transition here wasn’t a smooth one,” Hester said, her hands gripping her skirts again.

“Ha, there ain’t been no word invented for how awful yer arrival went,” Mr. A.J. said with a cackle. “But that’s all right, Pester. We like ye just fine now.”

“Not that that’s saying much,” Ronan said with a laugh. “We’re just a bunch of misfits who banded together to form our own sort of family. It’s too bad Seb and Amelia aren’t here too. Then we’d all be together.”

“And Sebastian could play the fiddle for us,” Clarissa said with a sigh of longing.

Colin nodded his agreement.

“Who are they?” Hester asked.

“Our friends who live in Darby. He runs a lumber mill there,” Gabriel said.

“Amelia came here from Butte with us,” Ronan said with the smile of one momentarily lost in memories. “Seb’s her second husband. Her first husband, Liam, was our friend in Butte.”

Patrick looked around the living and dining rooms filled with adults, knowing his nieces and nephew were most likely asleep on his bed, and a deep sense of gratitude filled him. He shook his head to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “For someone who’s been alone as long as I have”—he cleared his throat of its raspiness—“I’ll take your version of family any day.”

Colin clasped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to finally have you home, brother.”

Patrick nodded, too overwhelmed to say much. “I won’t stay away so long again.”

“You better not, or we’ll come and hunt you down,” Clarissa said, causing everyone to laugh.

Patrick squeezed her outstretched hand, joining in with their laughter and fully feeling a part of their group at last.

G
abriel climbed
the stairs to the space over his workshop, his boot heels sounding on the wooden steps as he reached the space where he and Clarissa had lived when first married. The gentle tapping as Ronan cobbled a shoe and the sound of sanding as Jeremy worked on a rocking chair faded away as he entered their old home. As he stood at the edge of the kitchen, looking down the length of the room, memories flooded him. Of Clarissa poking her head into the oven with a hopeful smile as she looked to see if one of her latest dishes was edible. Of Clarissa sitting in her rocking chair, knitting late at night as they talked or he read to her. Of Clarissa writing at the desk they shared. Always of Clarissa.

He closed his eyes to stop the barrage of memories and emotions. He opened his eyes to see the space, no longer filled with the detritus of a life lived but with boxes and larger pieces of furniture to be sold. All their own furniture was now in their house on the other side of the river.

He moved toward the far end of the room, into what used to be their bedroom, and eased himself onto the windowsill. He could hear faint noises from the street below—the passing wagons, bickering voices and the rare sounds of an automobile.

“Gabriel,” Aidan said in his low, authoritative voice. “I’m surprised to find you here, rather than at home or working.”

“I wanted privacy.”

“I suspected as much, seeing how you acted a few nights ago after our arrival dinner. Delia was quite offended by your cold welcome.” Aidan and Gabriel exchanged glares. “However, when I learned you were up here, I decided to invade your solitude.” He shared another long, stern look with Gabriel. “It’s about time someone did.”

Aidan moved into the loft, maneuvering around boxes until he stood near Gabriel. He scooted over so that Aidan could also perch on the windowsill, but he settled on a trunk facing Gabriel instead. “I wish I could say you looked well, Gabriel. But I can’t. You look like hell. If possible, you look worse than a few nights ago.”

Gabriel flinched at his uncle’s assessment, knowing he would not sugarcoat his impressions to make Gabe feel better. “I’m fine.”

“You’re far from fine, and you know it. From all accounts, you’re increasingly distant, barely speaking with anyone. Richard told me that he couldn’t believe how things had changed between you and Clarissa when he saw you in March. That was four months ago, and I’m saddened to see you haven’t improved.”

“Dammit,” Gabriel said, rising to pace around the items he and Jeremy had made to sell.

Aidan rose to settle against the windowsill, leaning against it, his gaze tracking Gabriel’s movements. “There’s no shame in missing your son, Gabriel. There is shame in causing undue suffering for those who also loved him.”

“Don’t you dare,” Gabriel hissed.

“Dare what? To presume to understand the agony of losing a child?” Aidan’s eyes flashed with long-buried torment. “Do you think all this self-flagellation will bring him back?”

Gabriel spun toward the exit, but his uncle anticipated that move and leapt to intercede, standing in his way. “No, Gabriel. You aren’t leaving until you make me understand why you are acting like this. Why you won’t comfort Clarissa. Why you fail to show any joy at your children’s accomplishments. Why you leave the house before anyone rises and you return home after they are all abed.”

Gabriel turned mutinous eyes to his uncle, his blue eyes flashing with desolation and resentment. His cheeks were flushed, and his jaw clenched tight.

Aidan sighed. “Oh, my dear boy. What happened?”

Gabriel reared as though struck, but Aidan gripped his shoulders, preventing him from spinning away. Gabriel stuttered out a sigh, and his body shook.

“Let go, Gabriel. My darling nephew. Beloved of Ian. You can’t continue on thus,” Aidan murmured as a sob burst from Gabriel’s lips. Aidan tightened his hold on Gabriel’s shoulder, and Gabriel collapsed into his uncle’s embrace, heaving sobs onto his shoulder.

After many minutes, when Gabriel had calmed, Aidan pushed him back onto the windowsill he had vacated. He pulled a small silver flask with an intricate Celtic filigree from his pocket and handed it to Gabriel. “Times like this deserve fortification,” Aidan murmured as he handed it to Gabriel.

Gabriel took a sip, wincing as the liquor burned his throat. He stared in front of him, his gaze unfocused, absently aware his uncle had sat beside him this time rather than on the trunk.

“I never understood what Clarissa felt, all those years ago,” Gabriel whispered. “When she thought she was unworthy of me. Uncertain of our love. I remember feeling a righteous anger that she would doubt me. Doubt us.” He paused, taking another sip from the flask. “I’ve always known Rissa was strong. It’s an essential part of who she is. I never doubted she’d survive whatever life threw at her.”

“She’s barely surviving, Gabriel. The woman I saw a few nights ago at dinner is turning into a brittle, bitter woman. If she were to leave you or to decide she was no longer concerned about her marriage, I believe she would improve. However, as long as she remains with you, daring to hope for a future with you, she will deteriorate until she is a shell of the woman you fell in love with.”

“The problem, Uncle, is that, although her belief that she wasn’t worthy of me was utter nonsense, the belief that I am, isn’t.”

“Gabriel, what happened with Rory?”

Gabriel shuddered at his son’s name. “He’d be alive today if I weren’t his father.”

“No one could love his children more than you did, Gabriel,” Aidan said. He leaned forward, perching the silver flask on his thigh, the fingers of one hand strumming the side of the flask. “More than you
do
.” The quiet reproach in his voice forced Gabriel to meet his uncle’s gaze.

“I never want them to doubt I love them.” Gabriel took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Disappearing the way you have only leads to doubts and confusion. They will begin to wonder as to their own worth.”

“Damn you for implying I don’t love my children,” Gabriel growled. “They are everything to me.”

“They’d never know it by how you’ve acted in recent months.” Aidan met his nephew’s glower, his calm diffusing Gabriel’s ire.

Gabriel sighed in resignation. “I know you are eager to impart your advice, Uncle. Please tell me what you recommend.”

“Speak with Clarissa. Tell her why you believe you are no longer worthy of being a member of your own family. For that is what it appears to be at the root of it all.” Aidan pinned him with a severe stare, and Gabriel nodded his agreement, resigned to his uncle’s insight of the situation.

“You accepted and loved her through her worst fears. There’s no reason she won’t do the same for you.”

Gabriel shook his head. He reached out and took one last sip from the flask, hissing as he swallowed, before standing.

“You say I don’t understand, even though I lost a wife and a child. Yet you’re right. I don’t understand, not fully, because you won’t tell me what’s truly bothering you. That’s your right, Gabriel. However, you need to speak with Clarissa. If she rejects you or cannot forgive you for what you think you did, it’s no worse than what you’re already living through.”

* * *

G
abriel entered
his two-story house, hanging his coat on a peg near the kitchen door. He rubbed his boots on a small rug by the door and tiptoed so his boot heels wouldn’t sound on the wooden floors as he crept to the kitchen door, peering into the dining room. He paused, watching the scene between Clarissa and their children unfold. His breath caught at the simple daily ritual of saying grace and at how much joy he felt watching them interact. At the regret for the number of such events he’d missed in the past months. “My family,” he whispered in wonder, rather than despair.

“Amen,” Clarissa said with a nod of her head and a wink to their youngest. She took their children’s plates, adding a small piece of chicken, a serving of potatoes, green beans and beets to each.

“Not beets, Mama,” their youngest, Billy, protested.

“You’ll grow to love them,” Clarissa soothed. “Tell me about your day. Did you have fun playing in the creek with Araminta?” She held up her plate to fill as she watched her children with an eager, excited expression.

Gabriel moaned at her question, with Clarissa and the children jerking their heads in his direction. He pushed away from leaning against the door jam and half smiled. “Do you mind if I join you?” Gabriel asked.

Clarissa’s plate clattered to the table, spattering the pristine white cloth with beet juice. “Of course not.” She nodded to his empty seat at the head of the table, a place set for him. “Please hand me your plate.”

He sat, watching her movements become increasingly agitated as she served him dinner. “I’m sorry I missed the blessing,” Gabriel murmured.

“Why are you home, Papa?” Geraldine, their eldest daughter, asked.

“I wanted to spend time with my family.” He took a bite of his food as he heard a grunt of disbelief from Clarissa’s end of the table. “I’ve missed hearing about how your days are.”

Geraldine looked from her father fiddling with his fork to her mother studiously playing with her food on her plate. She mimicked her mother and looked at her plate, refraining from speaking with her father.

“Myrtle, how are you enjoying the summer?” Gabriel asked his youngest daughter. “Have you had any adventures?”

She watched him with large blue eyes and picked at her food. His son, Billy, wolfed down his food as though he were at the county pie-eating contest, refusing to pause for conversation. After fifteen minutes of tense silence, the children were excused to go upstairs to play in their rooms or to read, and Clarissa rose to clear the dining room table.

“Let me help you, Rissa.” Gabriel reached for the children’s plates.

“I wish you wouldn’t, Gabriel,” Clarissa said, her back to him as she approached the kitchen. “I’d rather do this myself.”

He set the dishes on the table with a clatter and sat again at the chair at the head of the table. He watched Clarissa make three more trips to and from the kitchen before she had cleared the table. He had hoped to watch her in the kitchen, but she closed the door firmly behind her.

Gabriel sighed, uncertainty and frustration roiling through him as he felt a need for action after months of passivity. He rose, with the goal of forcing Clarissa to speak with him in their bedroom when he heard a quiet sob. He approached the kitchen door, opening it a fraction to behold Clarissa leaning over the sink, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “Clarissa,” Gabriel murmured as he approached her, gripping her shoulders to turn her to enfold her in his arms.

“No! How dare you?” she gasped, beating on his chest with her hands and pushing him away with all her force. He stepped aside, and she fell to her knees, keening her sorrow.

Gabriel knelt in front of her, reaching out a hand to stroke her head and shoulder before lowering it to his side. “Rissa, forgive me.”

“I’ve tried, Gabriel.” She sobbed, hiccupping and smearing her wet face with her palms to clear her tears. “I’ve tried to understand why you’d refuse to comfort me. To refuse me to comfort you.” She raised deadened eyes to him, and he reached out a hand, gripping one of hers tightly. “But I never will understand. When I most needed you, you abandoned me.” She pushed away his hand and rose, swaying as she gained her feet, reaching out to the counter to regain her equilibrium.

“Clarissa, let me explain,” Gabriel said, still in a kneeling position.

“Now you want to explain? Our son died eight months ago, and now you decide you want to reappear? Now you remember you have other children who need a father?” Her cheeks flushed with her indignation.

Gabriel rose and leaned against the counter.

She stabbed a finger in his chest as she spoke in an indignant whisper. “Where were you when I needed comforting? Where were you when our children woke in the middle of the night, crying, missing their brother and not understanding that death is forever? Where were you when I had to clean out Rory’s things?” She clenched her jaw as she watched him with resentful agony. “Nowhere to be found. Nowhere useful.”

“Rissa,” Gabriel rasped.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve learned not to depend on you. I don’t know why you’d want that to change now.” She turned toward the kitchen sink again but was halted when Gabriel grasped her, pushing her against the counter, gripping her face fiercely, almost to the point of pain.

“Dammit, I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry, Rissa.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers for a moment, before breaking that contact. “I always knew you were strong, and I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed through this. I couldn’t bear to see our children who look so much like Rory.” His voice cracked as he said his son’s name for the first time since his death. “I couldn’t look myself in the mirror, much less meet your gaze.”

“I don’t have it in me to sympathize with you for all you suffered.”

“Dammit, don’t become bitter,” he pleaded. “I can’t bear that I’ve caused you such pain.”