Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno 4)

Richard lifted his head. “Julia is supposed to resume her coursework next September, correct? And you’ll be teaching?”

Gabriel bristled. “That’s what I do.”

Given the email he’d received that morning, it was extremely unlikely, if not impossible, that he’d be teaching at Boston University the following year. But he hadn’t disclosed that fact to anyone, including Julianne.

He crouched down and began rearranging the pieces to the swing according to the printed instructions. “We’re glad you and Rachel were able to stay. We intend to have Clare baptized this week at our parish. We’re going to ask Rachel to be the godmother.”

“I’m sure she will be delighted. And I’m glad we will be able to attend the baptism.” Richard appeared disquieted at his son’s transparent attempt at deflection. “How are you coping with everything?”

“I’m fine.” Gabriel sounded impatient. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Fatherhood is a great responsibility.” Richard’s tone was gentle.

Gabriel sat back on his heels, his focus on the carpet. “Yes.” He blew out a breath. “How did you know how to be a father?”

“I didn’t always. I made mistakes. But Grace was an incredible mother. She seemed to have the right instincts for parenting. I was fortunate to have excellent parents, as well. They died before you came to us, but they created a home that was loving and caring. I tried to do that with you children.”

“You succeeded.” Gabriel picked up one of the metal legs and turned it over in his hand.

Richard continued. “Parenting is a commitment. You promise to love your children, no matter what. You promise to keep them safe. You promise to provide for them, to teach them, and to guide them. And with God’s grace, a lot of patience, and hard work, you keep your promises.”

Gabriel hummed as he placed the metal leg on the carpet. He reached for the swing’s motor.

Richard adjusted Clare so that she was sleeping on her back in his arms. “Are you worried about being a father?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“You chose Julia to be your wife. She’s a lovely young woman and the perfect partner for you. You and she will figure things out. And I will be there for you and your family. I’m blessed every day by you children, and by Scott and Tammy’s son, and now by Clare. How fortunate I am to be a young grandfather and able to enjoy my grandchildren.”

Gabriel put the motor down and began fitting two of the larger metal pieces together. Richard settled himself in the large leather club chair that sat in the corner, still holding a sleeping Clare.

Gabriel’s gaze lifted to his daughter and the sight of his father’s hand wrapped protectively around her.

Richard still wore his wedding ring. Gabriel was tempted, sorely tempted, to tell Richard that he’d dreamt of Grace while he was in the hospital. But three years after her death, Richard still wore the marks of his sorrow, in the lines that had deepened on his face and the white hairs that had multiplied on his head. Gabriel would keep Grace’s apparition to himself.

He connected the feet of the swing to the two upright pieces that would form the legs. “During the delivery, something went wrong. They sent me out of the room. They handed me Clare but wouldn’t let me see Julianne. I thought she was dead.”

“Son.” Richard’s voice broke.

Gabriel reached into his toolbox and retrieved a screwdriver. He began tightening the screws in the legs. “How do you manage?”

Richard touched Clare’s head gently, so as not to wake her. “That’s an apt description. I manage. But my life will never be the same.

“There’s freedom in acceptance. I realize everything has changed and I’ve tried to adjust my outlook accordingly. But I still grieve her. I grieve the loss of her and what might have been. And as time goes by and the grief fades but doesn’t quite disappear, I’ve learned not to fight it. I lost the love of my life, and I will always feel her loss.

“She appears to me sometimes in my dreams. But only when I’m in our house. I find her appearances comforting.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Richard appeared confused. “But you were.”

“Not really.” Gabriel busied himself with the swing, spreading the legs and fitting the crossbar in order to steady it. “I was mired in my own selfishness.”

“When Grace died, you came and sat with me on the ground.”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows.

“From the book of Job, in the Bible,” Richard hastened to explain. “Job’s friends hear of his suffering and they come to see him.”