Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno #3)(95)

“Good God, what have I wandered into?” Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together as he entered the kitchen from the back porch.

“Nothing. Your sister is just worn out. Rachel, skip dinner and go lie down in our room. You can join us for dessert.”

“Really?”

Julia waved a cob of corn in the direction of the stairs. “Go.”

Like a shot, Rachel was off her stool and flying through the door.

Gabriel watched her departing form and shook his head. “Tell me we aren’t going to be like that.”

“We aren’t going to be like that.” Julia pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You convinced me to pursue a reversal, no matter what. And you’ve almost convinced me that my family history doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t, sweetheart. Believe me.”

He took the corn out of her hand and set it aside before clasping her hands in his.

“We can’t get our hopes up. It’s been almost ten years since my vasectomy.”

“I’d be happy adopting. But for your own sake, I want us to try. Eventually. And with less drama than what we’re seeing with Rachel and Aaron.”

Gabriel laughed and pulled her into his arms.

Julia snuggled against him, her mouth opening wide into a sustained yawn.

Gabriel eyed her with concern. “Why don’t you go and take a nap?”

“There’s too much to do.”

“Nonsense. Richard is reading a book on the back porch and Aaron is snoring in front of the television. I think we’ll be having a late dinner.”

“I gave our room to Rachel.”

“Then use the couch in the study.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “They worked you pretty hard at the rehearsal and the wedding. You could use a nap.” He winked. “Since you didn’t have one this afternoon.”

Julia kissed him and exited the kitchen.

Left to his own devices, Gabriel retrieved a small leather book from his briefcase and went outside to join Richard on the porch.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Richard remarked, closing his crime novel.

“Yes.” Gabriel sat down in the Adirondack chair next to his adoptive father’s.

“What are you reading?”

Gabriel showed him the book, on which the word Journal was embossed on the front in gold lettering. “It’s my mother’s diary.”

The two men exchanged a look.

“I found something in it from Grace.” Gabriel unfolded two pages that had been tucked inside the journal.

Richard gazed on the papers with interest.

“What are they?”

“Names, addresses, and telephone numbers. One is for my father. The other is for Jean Emerson of Staten Island. She’s my grandmother.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen those pages?” Richard made eye contact with his son.

“Yes. Grace gave me my mother’s things when I was a teenager. But I never looked at them.”

Richard nodded, a look of recollection on his face.

Gabriel peered at Grace’s handwriting. “I’m wondering why she did this.”

“I’m positive we spoke to you about this when you were a teenager. Don’t you remember?”

Gabriel’s attention momentarily fixated on the woods behind the house.

“Only bits and pieces.”

“When your mother died, social services located your grandmother and asked her to take you. She refused. Grace telephoned her, trying to figure out what the problem was. After she spoke to your grandmother, she placed her name and address with your mother’s things, thinking that you might want to contact her one day.”

“I don’t remember Grace telling me that she spoke with my grandmother, just that social services located my relatives and they didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Richard frowned.

“You were only a boy. There was no point in burdening you with everything that happened. I thought that we disclosed the details when you were older.”

Gabriel shook his head.

Richard’s mouth tightened. “I apologize. We should have told you.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You and Grace took me in when my own flesh and blood disowned me.”

“You are our son.” Richard’s voice grew husky. “You have always been our son.”

Gabriel’s hands gripped the journal more tightly.

“Will it—offend you if I try to find out more about my biological parents?”

“Of course not. It’s your heritage and you have a right to know about it.”

“You’re my dad,” Gabriel observed quietly.

“Always,” said Richard. “And no matter what.”

“I put you and Grace at risk. You mortgaged your home to rescue me.”

“A parent’s love isn’t conditional. No matter what you did, you were always our son. I simply prayed that one day you’d come back to us. And you did.”

Gabriel’s knee began to bounce in agitation.

Richard’s gray eyes grew very intense as he watched him.

“We didn’t give birth to you, but you are our son. You belonged with us.”