Quinn walked over to Sylvia and put her arms around her, hugging her mother for the first time in her life. “I know you are right, but I won’t be able to rest until I find out. Sylvia, I need to know where I come from and who my ancestors were. I need to fill in the blanks so that I can move forward.”
Sylvia nodded. “I know. And I hope you find the answers you seek. I just don’t want you to be disappointed with the people who’ve created you.”
“I’m not,” Quinn replied and meant it. “I’m glad that you found me, and nothing I learn from this point on will change that.”
“I hope you’re right. I would hate to lose you all over again.”
“You won’t. Now, let’s pick a date for our get-together. I want you to meet Gabe… and Emma,” Quinn added, gratified by Sylvia’s hopeful expression.
Chapter 45
Twin beams of light bisected the darkness as a car passed outside. There was little traffic at this hour. The house was quiet, with only the occasional creaking of settling wood and the rustling of bedsheets disturbing the silence. It was almost 2 a.m., but Gabe couldn’t get to sleep, his conversation with Quinn replaying in his mind. She’d been angry with him, but relented before she fell asleep, her head resting on his shoulder and her arm about his waist as he held her close. She’d moved away since, lying on her back, her hands folded across her stomach like a medieval effigy.
Gabe studied Quinn’s face in the darkness, smiling at the sweep of dark lashes across her pale skin and the lift of her mouth as if she were about to smile. She’d been wound up before speaking with Sylvia, but their talk had gone well, and perhaps even served as a step forward in their fragile relationship. Quinn believed Sylvia’s version of events, but Gabe wasn’t convinced. He had no wish to be one of those people who blamed the victim for the tragedy that befell them, but Sylvia Wyatt puzzled him. True, she had been very young when she got pregnant with Quinn, but even a girl of seventeen had to have some notion of what she was getting herself into.
Gabe folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his mind still on Sylvia. Sylvia was either a woman prone to catastrophically bad judgment or a liar who was manipulating Quinn’s emotions to get into her good graces. She’d gotten involved with a married man, with whom she carried on for months, and then went to a party at a house of an older boy she barely knew. She drank too much and refused to leave when the other girls decided it was time to go, remaining behind with three college-age lads who’d been drinking heavily and likely made their intentions clear. Surely, she understood the possible consequences of both situations. Could she really have been that sheltered and naïve? Yes, she could have been. Many girls, and women, found themselves in situations beyond their control and realized the danger when it was already too late, but Gabe didn’t think that happened with Sylvia, not given what she chose to do after.
Sylvia didn’t tell anyone about the assault, not even after she found out that she was pregnant. She didn’t see a doctor or tell her father that she was expecting a baby. Instead, she concealed her pregnancy till the end of the school term, then left home, found a place to live and a summer job, and prepared for the birth of her baby. She found an advert for a midwife in the newspaper and called her once she was already in labor, avoiding going to the hospital and having her condition recorded in the NHS database. Sylvia had formulated a plan of action, carried it out, and then left her newborn in a church, returning home to her father as if nothing had happened. These were not the actions of a sheltered girl. These were the actions of a survivor, who was no stranger to strategic thinking.
Perhaps Robert Chatham was telling the truth when he claimed that Sylvia had been a willing participant that night, and perhaps she’d been the one to seduce Steven Kane, and not the other way around. Getting pregnant had not been part of the plan, so she got rid of her baby as soon as she could, not even bothering to go through the normal adoption channels and turning Quinn over to social services. She’d thrown Quinn away like a bag of rubbish. Leaving her baby in a place of safety rather than just dumping her somewhere where she might not have been found right away had been Sylvia’s only act of maternal love.
Gabe stole a peek at Quinn, who no longer looked peaceful. Her eyelids were fluttering, and her breathing quickened, as if she were having a bad dream. Gabe reached out and took her hand, holding it until she began to calm down. He wished that he could turn back the clock and prevent Quinn from getting assaulted during the break-in that led to Sylvia finding her. Quinn had dreamed of finding her biological parents, like most adopted children, but meeting Sylvia and learning of her true parentage had done more harm than good. Quinn was hell-bent on finding Steven Kane and prepared to turn her focus to Seth Besson if Kane proved he was not a match. She was obsessed with finding her father, a quest that could bring her nothing but bitter disappointment.
Gabe shot to his feet as a wail pierced the silence of the flat, startling him out of his reverie.
“Mummy! I want my mummy!” Emma screamed.
Gabe hurried into the other room and gathered Emma in a warm embrace. “I’m here, darling. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Emma pushed him away, her eyes huge in her face. “I don’t want you, Gabe. I want my Mum. I miss Mum,” Emma screamed. “I want to go home.”
Quinn walked into the room and sat down next to Emma and Gabe. “Would you like a story?” she asked.
“No!” Emma cried, but she moved closer to Quinn, leaning into her, desperate for comfort.
Quinn wrapped Emma in her arms and rocked her gently, humming the waltz from Cinderella. “Would you like to come to our bed?” Quinn asked, giving Gabe a stern look when he shook his head.
“All right,” Emma mumbled. “But I still want my Mum.”
“I know, Emma. I know. She would be here if she could, but she’s entrusted you to us, so please, give us a chance. Can you do that?”
“I suppose,” Emma said as she trailed after Quinn, climbing into bed and pressing her back to Quinn’s belly. Emma took Gabe’s hand as she closed her eyes, her breath still shaky from crying.
“I’ll never leave you, Emma,” Gabe said as he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll always be your dad.”
“I don’t want a dad. I want my Mum back, and my Gran,” Emma mumbled and turned her face away from Gabe.
After a time, she quieted down, but her breathing was still shaky as she continued to sniffle. Quinn spoke to Emma quietly, telling her the story of Goldilocks and The Three Bears until Emma finally drifted off to sleep, still clutching Gabe’s hand despite rejecting him earlier. Quinn gently laid her hand over Gabe’s and Emma’s, her gaze meeting Gabe’s in the darkness. He gave her a pained smile, and she smiled back, wishing that she could say something to make him feel less dejected. Gabe was hurt by Emma’s outburst, but who could blame a child for missing her mother?
“How do you cure a four-year-old of a broken heart?” Gabe asked, his voice barely audible.
“With love,” Quinn replied. “Endless, unconditional love that never wavers.”
“Well, I’ve got plenty of that. For you both,” Gabe replied.
Quinn gave Gabe’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re a good man, Papa Bear,” Quinn said, making Gabe smile.
Chapter 46
March 1347
Dunwich, Suffolk
Prior Jacob stood on the cliff and looked out to sea. Today it was still, the gray expanse flat and lifeless. A few boats dotted the surface, eager fishermen taking advantage of the calm to catch some fish to sell at the market. It was difficult for the poor during the winter months when they couldn’t supplement their meager diets with produce from their vegetable patches. Some were fortunate enough to have a fruit tree that yielded free apples or pears in the autumn. There were a few apple trees growing on the priory grounds, and Prior Jacob always enjoyed an apple or two while he picked the fruit for stewing and making jelly. The crisp sweetness filling his mouth made him feel almost gui
lty, as if he were doing something wrong. But surely it wasn’t wrong to enjoy God’s bounty, not when it would only go to waste if not harvested.
The prior was distracted from his thoughts by the approach of one of the younger friars. Friar Matthew had joined the order only a year ago, and was still more boy than man. Sandy fuzz covered his cheeks and upper lip and his hazel eyes shone with purpose. Unlike some of the other friars who still viewed Prior Jacob with suspicion, Friar Matthew was full of loyalty and a desire to prove himself useful.
“You wished to see me, Prior?” Matthew asked as he joined Prior Jacob on the clifftop.
“Have you done what I asked?”
“Yes.”
“And have you learned anything?” Prior Jacob asked. Matthew was unusually tight lipped, his gaze scanning the horizon as if he were searching for something.
“Father Avery leaves the grounds after Evensong on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He walks into town, toward the harbor. I think he visits someone.”
“Whom does he visit?”
“I don’t know. The house looks abandoned. He stays for about an hour, then leaves.”
“I want you to get closer, Matthew. I need to know whom he is visiting and why,” Prior Jacob said, wishing the boy would show some initiative rather than wait to be told what to do. Father Avery was not a parish priest, so would have no reason to visit the sick or dying. Father Avery wasn’t doing anything outwardly wrong, since he wasn’t one of the friars and was free to come and go, but something about his behavior was furtive and suspicious. And then there was the boy, Edwin. What was Father Avery’s connection to him? Why bring Edwin to the Priory? Father Avery said the boy expressed an interest in joining the order, but Edwin had not approached Prior Jacob as of yet, and seemed happy enough to leave after his work was finished and return to his family.
“I saw a woman,” Friar Matthew suddenly said. His eyes never left the sullen vista in front of him, but his voice changed. He wasn’t comfortable spying on a man of God, and with good reason. The friars were loyal to each other, their trust in their brothers absolute. Father Avery wasn’t of their order, but he was still one of them, a man who chose to serve God above all else. He’d forsaken his parents’ hearth and the promise of a wife and children and chosen the often-lonely path of holiness. The camaraderie and loyalty of like-minded men made the burden a little easier to bear at those times when a man craved more than divine sustenance, and they all did, even if they chose not to admit to it. Their longing made their devotion to God all the more meaningful and sacred.
Prior Jacob rearranged his face into one of bland patience. “Friar Matthew, the reason I asked you to follow Father Avery is because I’m worried about him. He seems distracted, conflicted even. I only wish to help him, but I can’t do so unless I know what’s troubling him. Can you tell me about the woman?”
Friar Matthew shrugged. “She wears a hooded cloak, so I’ve never seen her face. Sometimes she comes, and sometimes she doesn’t. Father Avery waits for a while, then leaves. He looks disappointed when she doesn’t show.”
“I’d like you to continue watching Father Avery. It’s our duty to bring him back to God if he has strayed,” Prior Jacob said.
“Yes, Prior Jacob. It makes me feel better knowing I’m doing God’s work,” Matthew said, smiling for the first time. “I know in my heart that Father Avery is devout, but if you think he has doubts, then of course, we must help him find his way back to the Church.”
“God will reward you for your diligence, Friar Matthew. He values every member of his flock. Now, go back to your chores, or you will be missed.”
Friar Matthew turned and wordlessly walked away, disappearing through an arched doorway in the wall surrounding the priory. It was his job to tend the animals, and that’s what he liked doing best. Perhaps it reminded him of his father’s farm, and brought a little piece of home to the priory, offering the young man the best of both worlds. Prior Jacob clasped his hands behind his back and began to walk along the cliff. He’d grown cold standing still for so long, and could do with some exercise. Besides, walking helped him to think more clearly and he still had a half hour before Sext.
So, Father Avery has a lover, Prior Jacob thought as he strode along, paying little attention to the gathering clouds on the horizon. They looked like bales of dirty wool, but the air was fresh and invigorating, and Prior Jacob increased his pace as his mind picked apart this new information. He imagined that he’d be happy to learn something disparaging about his rival, but all he felt was a deep sense of unease. For a man of the cloth to take a lover was an affront to God. Prior Jacob knew that there were many, especially those higher up in the Church, who kept not only lovers, but secret families. The thought infuriated him. How could God allow such debauchery to thrive? These men had sworn their allegiance to the Church, had devoted themselves to the service of God, and all the while they were indulging in carnal pleasures, sacrificing nothing and showing a false face to the world. It was a sin to lie with a woman, a sin that should not be ignored.
Prior Jacob had never known carnal love. He’d joined the order when he was fifteen and had still been pure of heart and body. It was wrong to offer yourself to the Lord if you’d been soiled by fornication. His brothers tried to take him to a brothel once, but Jacob refused, disgusted by their base needs, which they satisfied at every opportunity. Jacob loved his mother and the Virgin Mary, and those two women were more than enough for him. He found women to be repulsive, truth be told. Their smell and wanton sexuality unsettled and disgusted him. He approved of marriage of course, for the purpose of procreation and propriety, but relations outside of the holy bounds of matrimony were not to be tolerated.
Jacob had chosen to join the Franciscan monks rather than pursue the priesthood because he wished to be shuttered away from the real world and not have to deal with the sordid lives of parishioners, who indulged in sinful behavior and thought that confessing their sins to a priest could wash away their guilt. The priests gave them penance, but Jacob thought that wasn’t enough. People had to suffer for their sins, not just say a few Hail Marys and consider themselves absolved. No, he didn’t have the temperament to deal with a congregation. He wished only to live in peace, his days structured and uncomplicated, devoted to worship and work. But ambition had its price, and in gaining the priorship, he’d lost the peace and simplicity of monastic life. Now he had to safeguard his position and protect his men from unholy influence. Father Avery was proving to be a worm in Jacob’s apple, a snake in the Garden of Eden.
Prior Jacob turned his face into the wind, watching as white caps appeared on the surface of the sea, the placid water suddenly coming to life and beginning to rock the boats on the horizon. The clouds had grown darker, their underbellies swelling with unshed rain. Was this a sign of God’s displeasure?
“I won’t let you down,” Prior Jacob spoke into the wind. “I will eradicate all sin.”
Chapter 47
Petra pulled the threadbare blanket over her naked breasts and snuggled closer to Avery, desperate for every bit of warmth she could get. Avery didn’t light a fire in the grate, fearful that someone would become alerted to their presence in the abandoned house if smoke began to rise from the chimney into the frigid night. A candle stub burned bright in the darkness, its little flame struggling to stay alive in the drafty space. Avery reached for his woolen cloak and spread it over them, pulling Petra closer to him and nuzzling her ear lobe.
“Better now?”
“Yes,” Petra breathed. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift. Being with Avery felt so right, so safe. She wished they could spend the whole night together and wake with their limbs intertwined, their bodies warm and flushed from their lovemaking. Instead, Avery had to rush back to the priory, and Petra had to return home where she had to act as if she’d just returned from spending the evening with Lady Blythe and hide all signs of her happiness from her all-too-perceptive mother. It wasn’t until she climbed into her
loft beneath the rafters that she washed all traces of Avery from her body and lay in her cold bed, reliving the precious moments she’d spent with him. It was then that the doubts came. She knew she had to speak to Avery sooner or later and tell him her news, but she put off the inevitable, desperate to seize whatever happiness she could.
Petra turned onto her back and gazed up at Avery, who seemed miles away as he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, his head resting on one arm. “Avery, what will happen?” she asked, regretting the questions as soon as it left her lips. She knew the reality of the situation, but knowing it and hearing it were two different things, and she wasn’t prepared to hear the truth.
“How do you mean?” Avery asked, his eyes sliding reluctantly back to Petra’s face.
“With us,” Petra clarified. She could still end things with Thomas and tell him that she’d changed her mind. They weren’t to be wed until June, so she still had a few weeks before any wedding plans were set in motion. Oh, how happy Lady Blythe would be if Petra backed out and left Thomas to seek a more suitable bride, and how happy Petra would be if Avery decided to leave the Church and build a life with her.
“What can happen?” Avery asked and smiled down at her as if she were a silly child.
“I love you, Avery,” Petra whispered. She’d said it in her mind a thousand times, but it felt strange to hear the words spoken aloud after all this time. The last time Petra had confessed her feelings to Avery was twelve years ago, on the night Edwin was conceived. Avery had said it first then, had sworn undying devotion and promised a lifetime of happiness, but he was gone less than a fortnight later, off to the seminary against his will.
This time he has a choice, Petra thought stubbornly as she watched emotions passing across Avery’s face like clouds across the sun. This time he can choose me. He can choose us.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 24
