by Mary Leo
“Sweetheart, you’re pregnant? Why didn’t I know this? Why didn’t your father tell me?”
Gaby didn’t answer, so Hamilton answered for her. “Because he doesn’t know.”
Catherine immediately made her way to Gaby who was now standing next to the sofa. They exchanged tight hugs. His mom was the queen of hugs. She always made the person feel as if she loved them above anyone else. It was one of her best traits, and Hamilton loved her even more for it, especially when he watched Gaby try to squirm out of her embrace. There was no getting out of it until his mom was ready to let go, and from the looks of it, she wouldn’t be ready for quite some time.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see his face when you tell him. I’d love to be there.” His mom still held on as her excitement over Gaby’s pregnancy took hold.
“You might want to reconsider that notion once Gaby tells you her plans,” Hamilton told her with a note of sarcasm in his voice.
His mom finally let go, but stood directly in front of Gaby, rubbing Gaby’s arms. “You look positively radiant.” She turned to Hamilton. “Isn’t she glowing, Hamilton?”
“Dazzling,” Hamilton said, absolutely agreeing with his mom. Gaby looked better than he’d ever seen her, healthy and happy. Pregnancy seemed to agree with her. She’d cut her hair shorter, and wore tight wooly sweaters that hugged her baby bump. Today she’d worn a cream colored sweater, brown leggings and a pair of thick striped socks that gathered around her ankles. She hadn’t gained much weight during her pregnancy, but her breasts, which were spectacular, had definitely increased in size. Pregnant or not, he had a hard time keeping his hands off her. All he’d thought about since she’d arrived was holding her in his arms and making love to her.
But then he’d remember why she was there, why she’d come to Plymouth Rock, Colorado, and he knew there was little chance that vision would ever happen again. If she went through with this adoption, their relationship would be forever changed.
His mom put her arm around Gaby’s shoulder, while she snuggled up to her side. “Come and sit with me and tell me all about this blessed event. When are you due? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? Did you decide on a name? Oh, this is so exciting! Little Gaby Venti, pregnant. You’re father is going to think he died and went to heaven.”
From the look on Gaby’s face, Hamilton could tell she didn’t know what to say, and he loved it. For once, his sometimes-overbearing mom was exactly what the situation called for.
And it was at that exact moment when he realized that not only would Gaby’s dad be asked to give up his grandchild, but also his mom would have to as well.
His throat tightened, and his stomach clenched.
What had he done? In his zest to find a way to talk some sense into Gaby, he’d purposely signed his mother up for a cruel heartache.
The thought broke his heart, especially as he watched the two of them together. After raising three sons, he knew his mom would love nothing better than to have not only a daughter-in-law, but a baby girl to dote on and fuss over.
If Gaby went through with this adoption, he could never tell his mom she’d given up her granddaughter for adoption.
Now who was being selfish?
Chapter Seven
Gaby was mortified that Catherine Winchester sat next to her on the sofa, admiring her belly and telling her how delighted she was over the whole blessed event. If Gaby could have clicked her heels together and disappeared, she would have. As it was, she had to take a deep breath and charge through the awkward situation as best she could.
“Your mom must be so excited for you,” Catherine cooed.
Gaby couldn’t possibly tell her that it was her mom who had suggested the adoption, had helped Gaby to find the adoption agency, and had gone with her to several of the meetings. Unlike Catherine who seemed to be as pleased as punch, her words not Gaby’s, over the prospect of a baby. Jennifer, Gaby’s mom, had routinely suggested she abort it during those first few months. Then when Gaby couldn’t bring herself to do it, she’d counseled her to put her baby up for adoption.
After weeks of pounding the point home, Gaby finally relented. Her mom was right, no way was Gaby even remotely ready to raise a child, especially on her own.
Gaby had been living with her mom ever since her second month of pregnancy, and each day had been a struggle. Her mom had condemned her for not using a condom, and gave her countless lectures on the difficulties of raising a child as a single parent. Even going so far as to make her feel unwanted by her own dad. “Hamilton Winchester might think it was great for awhile, but as soon as the reality hits him of having to support this child until its eighteenth birthday, the novelty of it will fade and he’ll resent her, just like your father resented you. Not that your father doesn’t love you, Gaby. I’m sure he does . . . in his own way. After all, you are his daughter. But getting money out of him in those middle years was like pulling teeth.”
In all fairness to her dad, Gaby knew that his restaurant almost had to close over a salmonella outbreak when Gaby was thirteen years old. Her dad had hired a new chef who apparently didn’t clean up adequately and caused a terrible food-poisoning outbreak. Fortunately, no one had died, but the Eagle County health department closed the restaurant down for several months, and when it re-opened it took almost two years to win back the faith of the locals. During that time, her mom had taken her dad back to court and tried to make him sell the restaurant for past child support and alimony, but fortunately the judge ruled in her dad’s favor. For the next year, her dad not only paid his regular payments, but made up for having missed all those past payments.
Unfortunately, all her mom could focus on were the missed payments, and how she had to get a job during that ‘trying’ time.
“So tell me, sweetheart,” Catherine began, “Is your sweet baby a boy or a girl? Or maybe you don’t want to know.”
“It’s a girl,” Gaby reluctantly told her.
Catherine put a hand to her heart as her face brightened with excitement. “Oh my dear! A girl! Not that I don’t adore boys, but I always thought my first grandchild would be a girl I could dote on and spoil. And if I remember correctly, you once told me your first baby would absolutely be a girl, and you would name her . . . Fall . . . no that wasn’t it. Autumn, that was it! You wanted to name your baby Autumn. Am I right?”
Strong emotions overwhelmed Gaby and try as she might, the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Catherine leaned forward. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter? Did I say something wrong? Are you okay?”
Hamilton rushed in from the other room. “What’s wrong? Gaby, are you all right?”
Gaby stood. “I . . . I can’t do this,” she said. “Coming here was a mistake. I need to go home. I’m sorry, Catherine. I’m really so sorry.” Then she ran from the room, made her way down the hallway and slammed her bedroom door.
***
If ever Hamilton needed his grandfather, it was now. He’d know exactly what to do, and how to handle all the emotions that were doing battle inside of him. His mom knew something was up, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her exactly what it was. As it was, he needed to get out of the house for awhile and clear his head. His mom wanted to talk to Gaby, alone, so Hamilton bugged out, and drove into town down Avalanche road, through Look Up Canyon. Both the road and the canyon got their names from what actually happened there. The great avalanche of 1872 where several residents of the newly formed town lost their lives, and closed the road for weeks. Then in 1937 there was another smaller avalanche that trapped his grandma on her way out of town. Grandpa Win loved to tell the story of how he and his dog Craven Lee--along with the help of his favorite pickax and some of the townsfolk--helped dig her out. The way his grandfather told the story, it was a miracle he was able to locate her or she would certainly have died.
Look Up Canyon had been the culprit for both avalanches. It dropped stones and rocks from the cliffs above on a regular basis, and if the snow conditions were just right,
those falling rocks could cause yet another avalanche. As Hamilton buzzed up the serpentine road, he felt confidant that wouldn’t be happening this year. There was no real heavy snow in the forecast and the snow that had already fallen didn’t seem to be sticking, but he knew that could all change in a heartbeat. Colorado’s weather had never been one-hundred percent predictable, and as long as the Rocky Mountains ran right through it, the likelihood of that ever changing seemed doubtful.
When he pulled up in front of Waylon’s Watering Hole, parked and walked inside, he was glad to see it hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d been there. Those big-game heads still hung from all the walls, the dance floor, what there was of it, still had the scuff marks from some wild nights of past patrons, the stage was the size of a bathroom stall, but that incredible, copper-topped hand-crafted bar that Waylon Canton, Jr. built looked to be in even better shape than Hamilton remembered. The mirrors and glass shelves and finely carved mahogany of both the bar and the wall behind it still glistened from the overhead lighting. In the last few years, Hamilton had traveled around the globe, and nowhere had he ever come across a bar with such fine craftsmanship.
A large flat TV screen played the Monday night football game, while some of the patrons cheered on their favorite team.
When he finally hopped up on the only stool left in the crowded tavern, and caught Waylon’s attention behind the bar, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be, shoulder to shoulder with some of Plymouth Rock’s older, and more sage citizens. It had been Grandpa Win’s favorite watering hole, and where Hamilton had spent many nights crying in his beer over Gaby Venti. Where advice on any given subject was enthusiastically given. Whether or not it was pure bullshit, was up to the receiver to decipher, and at the moment, Hamilton would welcome even the best of the bullshitters. Grandpa Win had been a mixture of complete bullshit and gems of wisdom that could turn a person’s life around if that person took it.
Right now, Hamilton needed a little of both.
“Hamilton Winchester! What the heck? I heard you were in town, but I never expected to see you in here. It’s been awhile.”
“Going on five years, to be exact.” Hamilton had a hard time believing it had been that long when everything around him looked exactly the same. Even Waylon hadn’t changed. He was still the same trendsetter type of guy he’d always been, with his tailored white shirt, and his manicured nails.
“Wow, man, has it been that long? Where the hell does the time go? I hear you been doing a lot of traveling. Got yourself into a good situation. No bride, though. All you Winchester boys are still single. How do you guys do it? I’ve been married for almost ten years now and have four kids. You planning on staying awhile and finding yourself a sweet little filly to settle down with? I know there’s plenty in this town that would be most accommodating to any one of you boys.”
Hamilton had forgotten how straightforward Waylon could be, and didn’t quite know how to respond, other than he knew for a fact that settling down in Plymouth Rock was most assuredly not in the cards.
“Nope, no plans to stay. Just here for a last holiday in Win Creek Cabin. We’re seriously considering selling the place. I’m hoping it’s a done deal, but knowing my brothers, I may have a lot of convincing to do.”
“Sorry to hear about the cabin. Your grandpa always thought you boys would keep it in the family so everyone could enjoy it through the generations. He was pretty adamant on that subject. Heard him talk about the place on countless occasions.”
Hamilton already knew what the place had meant to his grandfather, and part of him hated what they were doing, but a good deal was a good deal, especially when, to his knowledge, none of them had been inside it in the last five years.
“The time seems right, and the offer is too good to pass up.”
“Still, it doesn’t seem right. Love to hear your brother Scout’s take on the subject.”
Hamilton turned in the direction of Waylon nod, and sure enough, Scout was seated at a table playing cards with a group of old duffers. Part of Hamilton wanted to walk on over there and rekindle their relationship, but he knew that Scout might not be in the rekindling mood, particularly when he told him that their dad was part of the cabin deal.
“We all haven’t officially agreed yet, but we’re headed in the right direction.”
Hamilton was hopeful his brothers would sign the paperwork on time for the deal to go through. His dad was depending on him, and Hamilton hated to disappoint either of his parents.
“I heard your dad might be coming to town. That true?” Waylon’s expression grew dark.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure.”
“The apple fell a long way from the tree, rolled down the hill and got run over by a truck with that one. No offense, but your daddy never did take a liking to that cabin. Tried to burn it down once. Probably thinking the family would get some money from the insurance. It was a time when Grandpa Win was having trouble making ends meet, and your dad was forced to get a job. He hated it. Cleaned out the barn on the Bentley’s farm before school.”
This was news to Hamilton, and probably fell into the realm of deep bullshit.
“My dad might be a lot of things, but he’s not an arsonist. That’s a load of crap!”
“It’s true. Happened when he was around sixteen or seventeen. The fire started in the morning when your grandpa and grandma were on their way into town. Nothing fancy, just some gasoline poured on the back of the cabin and a lit match. As the story goes, your grandma forgot something, so they turned around. That’s when they spotted the fire. Your grandpa suffered some burns on his back trying to put it out.”
“Never heard of it, and never saw the scars.”
Thinking back, he couldn’t remember ever seeing his grandfather without a shirt.
“That’s cause your grandpa never liked to talk about it, and kept it out of the papers. The locals respected his wishes, but it’s got to be listed with the county.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you’re getting ready to sell the one thing your grandfather risked his life to save.”
Chapter Eight
Gaby leaned against the headboard, while Catherine sat on the bed next to her. She hadn’t wanted to let Catherine into the room, but Catherine had always been a persuasive force, especially when she offered hot chocolate and double-chocolate chip cookies as an incentive. “I made them fresh right before I came over. They’re still warm. Won’t you please open the door, sweetheart?”
Gaby hadn’t been able to resist and opened the door before Catherine finished her sentence. Now, after all the cookies were gone, and most of the hot chocolate had been drunk, Gaby felt safe and warm, ready to spill her heart . . . at least the part about the adoption. She still wasn’t ready to spill the part about this being Hamilton’s baby. She knew Catherine would have a hard time forgiving her if and when she found out.
But there was something else Gaby needed to know about Catherine first. There was a ring on Catherine’s left hand that looked an awful lot like an engagement ring.
“So, Catherine . . . who’s the lucky guy?”
“What do you mean, dear?” Catherine sounded a bit defensive.
“You’re wearing what looks like an engagement ring on your left hand. So, are you?”
Catherine seemed to ignore her and took another sip of her drink, then went over and sat on the white wicker rocking chair that faced the bed. She carefully placed her cup down on the matching table next to it.
“Am I what?”
“Engaged.”
“I was going to hide the ring, but it’s so lovely, I simply can’t take it off.”
“Then you are engaged! You little vixen. Who’s the lucky guy? Someone I know?”
Catherine pushed off on rocking her chair, leaning back, seemingly enjoying the movement. “Sweetheart, I really can’t say yet. Just know that you’ll be pleased, or at least I hope you’ll be pleased when you find out
who it is. But for now, please don’t press me.”
A tight grin curved her ample lips.
“I’m simply dying to know.”
“We’re going to announce it on Thanksgiving. When everyone is here.”
As much as Gaby wanted to know, there was no way she could stay for dinner.
“Love to see the look on your sons’ faces.”
“Me too. It ought to be quite the dinner.” She sat forward. “Okay, so I told you my news, at least part of it, are you ready to tell me what’s going on with you? Why you’re hiding out here when the situation clearly calls for you to be with the father of your baby. From the looks of your baby bump, I’m thinking you’re due in a few weeks? Am I right?”
Gaby nodded. “A little less than four.”
“Not the best time to be traveling, especially in all this snow. You know you can tell me anything. I love you, and anything you tell me to keep to myself, I will. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I brought over several bags of cranberries. We can make the cranberry sauce for our dinner. I assume you’ll be joining us.”
“No, I’ve decided to leave tomorrow. I have to get back to LA to spend the holiday with my mom. She’ll be all alone if I don’t.”
Gaby was telling an all-out lie. The only holiday her mother ever celebrated was July 4th, the day the divorce was final with her dad. It was her mom’s private Independence Day. Thanksgiving at her mom’s house would be just another Thursday.
“I thought your mom never celebrated Thanksgiving or any holiday for that matter?”
“She’s changed. She loves them now, especially Thanksgiving.”
Another lie. Her mother had grown up as a Jehovah’s Witness, and although she hadn’t practiced the faith since she was in her mid-twenties, she clung to the belief that pagan holidays and political holidays were connected to Satan.
