Finding Isadora(55)

He sent me a challenging glare. “So Richard’s not good enough for you unless he has a certified Grade A sticker on him?”

“No! I love Richard exactly the way he is. He was the one who wanted to do this.” I eyed Gabriel warily. “I guess it was pretty hard for you, hearing … everything.”

The glare had faded as I spoke and now he dropped his head. “Hard. Yeah, you could say it was hard. I’ve always thought of myself as his father. I might have been—I was—a rotten one, but he’s always been my son.”

“You never had a clue that Diane, uh…”

“Was lying when she said she knew the kid was mine?” He jerked to his feet and began to pace. “No. What an idiot, eh? I took her at her word.”

“It was unforgivable, what she did.”

“Damn it, she trapped me. I didn’t want a permanent relationship with her, much less a kid.”

“She wanted to do the best thing for her child,” I suggested tentatively.

“The best? Me?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t say much for her judgment.”

Richard had said almost the identical thing. “So … how do you feel, now you know?”

“Furious. I could strangle the woman.” His anger was so strong it was almost a tangible force in the room.

“Are you mad at Richard, too?”

“Richard?” He paused in his pacing to frown at me. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Relieved that he realized it, I said, “Would it have changed anything if you’d found out earlier on, like when he was a baby?”

He strode a few steps, more slowly this time, as if reflecting. “When Diane was pregnant, yes. Maybe even in the first couple of weeks after Richard was born. But not after that. He was my son. That’s how I felt about him.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at me for a long moment and I wasn’t sure he was going to answer.

The security buzzer sounded, and Gabriel strode over to push the release button. He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I loved him. I still do.” Then he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Again the man had surprised me. I’d kind of assumed he loved Richard in his fashion—to me it was almost inconceivable that a parent wouldn’t love their child—but I was astonished he’d told me. Maybe he’d done it because I was going to marry Richard.

Had he ever told Richard he loved him? If so, Richard hadn’t believed him.

Gabriel paid for the pizza, then came back and slid the flat box onto the crate-table. When he opened the lid, the tantalizing aroma made me sniff deeply, appreciatively. I began to rise, thinking to get plates and napkins, but he’d already pulled a slice of pizza free and was handing it to me. I shrugged and took it in one hand, cupping the other underneath as I lifted the slice to my mouth. “Mmm, that’s good.”

He’d pulled his chair up to the table and freed his own wedge of pizza. “Chinese owners. Make the best pizza in the neighborhood.”

“Who makes the best Chinese food?” I asked around enthusiastic nibbles.

“Billy Chew. A friend of mine. And yes, he is Chinese.”

“Does he own a restaurant?”

“Nope. Just cooks for family and friends. He’s a program director at the Multicultural Center. Cooks there sometimes too, just for fun. We get multiple seatings for supper those days. Can’t get the staff and volunteers to go home when their shifts are over.”

He finished his slice of pizza, frowned at his greasy fingers, and headed for the kitchen. He returned with a roll of paper towels, which he tossed on the table beside the pizza box. After wiping his fingers he refilled our wine glasses and took another slice of pizza.

The atmosphere in the room was certainly more relaxed, but I wished our previous conversation hadn’t been interrupted. Dare I re-open the subject?

While I was debating he finished his second slice and said, “You’re falling behind.”

Obediently I took a second slice while he took his third. “So, uh, did you agree to have the DNA test?” I asked cautiously.

“Richard hasn’t told you?”

“No. I haven’t talked to him today. He said he’d be busy with an important merger.”

“Guess I should be flattered he found time to call his—” Gabriel’s tone was ironic and he broke off before the final word. Father. “Think the last time he asked me for something was when he invited me to his law school grad and I let him down. Yeah, of course I agreed. Besides, it’s his right to know.”

“Yours too,” I pointed out.

“Not sure I want to.”

I wiped my fingers on a paper towel and picked up my glass. “I can sympathize. It would be a hard adjustment to make after twenty-five years of believing he was yours.”

“He’ll tell me, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If I’m not his father, he has a perfect excuse for blowing me off.”

This wasn’t my business and yet each of them had chosen to discuss it with me. Richard had been badly hurt by what he perceived as his father’s neglect, and Gabriel had confessed to being a rotten father, yet I could see he, too, was hurt. Hurt by the fact that the son he loved might want to disown him. If they were both hurting, maybe there was hope.