“You can be very distracting.”
“Good.” He lifted her into his arms and walked toward the stairs. “Prepare for some extensive distracting.”
She placed her hands on his biceps, stilling him.
“Put me down.”
“I’ll put you down when we get to bed.”
“I have something to say that you aren’t going to want to hear.”
“Then say it quickly and get it over with.” He tensed.
She wriggled in his arms, so he set her down on the stairs.
“Your trip to New York is going to open up a lot of memories. Of course I’ll do whatever I can to help. But one thing we haven’t talked about is forgiveness.”
“Forgive my parents?” he spat. “That’s a laugh.”
“Forgiveness frees you. It’s for you, as much as for them.”
He pulled away from her. “I can’t forgive them. They don’t deserve it.”
“Who deserves forgiveness, Gabriel? You? Me?”
“You, for one.”
“Apart from God, the only person who can forgive me is the one I’ve wronged. That’s the power we have. We can use that power for good—to forgive someone. Or we can use it to hold on to old wrongs and hurts so that they never heal.”
She reached out to him, grasping his hand.
“I’m not saying they deserve it. I’m certainly not asking you to forget or to pretend nothing ever happened. Just think about it.”
“I’ve already thought about it. The answer is no.”
“How can you ask Paulina to forgive you if you aren’t willing to forgive your parents?”
Air escaped Gabriel’s lungs as if she’d struck him.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
“Just think about it, my love. Think about your reconciliation with Maia and what that meant to you. And imagine what it would mean to your father to hear that you forgive him.”
Gabriel led her upstairs but did not speak.
Chapter Fifty-seven
While Julia finished her seminar papers and revised her lecture for publication, Gabriel met with his urologist for a checkup on December fifth, then flew to New York.
As soon as he’d checked into his room at the Ritz-Carlton, he realized his mistake. He should have brought Julia with him. The large and beautiful bed would be cold that evening. He hated sleeping alone. It always reminded him of their separation, a memory he loathed.
He placed a few phone calls—to Lucia Barini at Columbia, to his father’s lawyer, and to Julia. He was disappointed when his call went to voice mail.
“Julianne, I’m in New York. I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton, room four eleven. I’m having dinner with Kelly tonight, and then I’ll be in my room. Talk to you later. I love you.”
Gabriel ended the call with a huff of frustration. Then he prepared to meet his sister.
Upon arriving at the Tribeca Grill, he was ushered to a table for two, at which sat an older, blond woman. When she looked up at him, he saw a pair of blue eyes that matched his own.
She fanned a hand to her mouth before standing. “I’m Kelly.”
“Gabriel Emerson.” He shook her hand awkwardly.
Her eyes filled with tears. “You look just like him.”
“Like whom?”
“Dad.”
Without thinking, Gabriel pulled his hand back.
Kelly managed a smile. “I’m sorry. Please.” She gestured to the empty seat across from hers.
She sat down and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.
“It was just such a shock, seeing you there. You look just like Dad did when he was young. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Thirty-five.”
“I remember being thirty-five. I won’t play coy and make you guess my age. I’m forty-nine.”
Gabriel nodded, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He tried to formulate something to say but found himself at a loss. Mercifully, they were interrupted by the waiter.
They ordered drinks and made small talk until the waiter returned. Then they placed their dinner orders, waiting almost impatiently for the waiter to leave again.
Kelly leaned forward in her chair.
“I’m so pleased to meet you. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
“Not at all.” Gabriel tried to force a smile.
“I owe you an apology.”
His smile disappeared. “For what?”
“As I said in my letter, I should have reached out to you when I learned of your existence. I should have done the right thing rather than worrying about upsetting my mother.”
Gabriel’s hands drifted to his silverware. “That was a long time ago. We don’t need to speak of it.”
“Thank you. I should mention that my mother knew about you but would never discuss you, even after Dad died. She never forgave him for having a mistress.”
Gabriel’s body visibly tightened.
“So you didn’t know about me before?”
“No, but I knew your mother. I’m sorry to hear that she passed away.” Kelly offered a sympathetic look.
“Thank you.” Gabriel straightened in his chair. “She died when I was nine. But the family who adopted me are very good.”
“Michael mentioned that. He told me that our father had kept apprised of you and your doings for years.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Didn’t you know that?”
“No. We left New York just before my mother died. I didn’t have contact with your father after that.” Gabriel ground his teeth. “Not a phone call, not a letter, nothing.”
“I’m so sorry. I assumed there was some contact between you and Dad, based on what Michael said.” Kelly sipped her wine thoughtfully. “He told me that Dad was aware of the family who adopted you, and that he knew you went to Princeton and Harvard. Apparently, you were a topic of conversation between them over the years.”
“If he was interested enough to discuss my life with his lawyer, why wasn’t he interested enough to pick up the telephone? Or to write a letter?”
Kelly looked down at the tablecloth. “I think I can shed some light on that. Dad was the kind of man who made a decision and stuck to it.” She lifted her face, surveying Gabriel’s body language with concern. “But I’m worried this conversation is upsetting you.”
“I’m here for answers,” he clipped. “I knew they weren’t going to be pleasant.”
“Yes, of course. So you knew Dad?”
“I met him, yes.”
“But you grew up in Pennsylvania, after you left New York?” she prompted.
“I was fortunate that when my mother died, a family connected with the hospital agreed to take me in.”
“And your mother’s family?”
He grimaced and said nothing.
“I don’t mean to pry. But it’s something I wondered. I met your mother a few times, and she seemed to be close to her parents. So I wondered why you didn’t go and live with them.”
“My grandfather died before I was born. My grandmother became estranged with my mother over the circumstances surrounding my conception. When my mother died, my grandmother told social services they couldn’t take me. My adoptive mother contacted my father, but he disowned me. I would have ended up in foster care were it not for the Clarks.” Gabriel’s expression was shuttered.
“I’m so sorry.” Kelly leaned forward in her chair. “You haven’t had it easy, have you?”
“You knew my mother?” He swiftly changed the subject.
“She was one of the secretaries in my father’s office. She was young and pretty, and whenever I went to visit my dad, she was always kind to me. I liked her very much. Around the time you were born or maybe shortly thereafter, my parents had a series of fights. And then everything calme
d down. But a few years later, my mother left my father and moved in with my grandparents on Long Island. Six months later, my parents reconciled and she moved back to Manhattan. I’m speculating, of course, but I’m guessing the separation had something to do with you. One of the things I overheard my mother yelling about was ‘that child.’ Of course, Audrey and I had no idea who she was talking about. We assumed they were fighting over one of us.”
Gabriel pressed his lips together. “How old were you when they separated?”
“Um, let me see.” Kelly looked up at the ceiling. “I’d say twenty-three? Thereabouts.”
“I would have been nine. That was when we left New York.”
“My mother probably gave Dad an ultimatum and that’s why your mother decided to leave.”
“Did you ever speak to your mother about any of this?”
Kelly’s eyes widened in horror. “Absolutely not. My parents fought, but they never told us what their fights were about. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask Mother about it, even as an adult.”
“Can you tell me anything else about my mother?”
Kelly regarded their place settings thoughtfully. “She was beautiful and very sweet. She was young and full of life. My mother was a bit of a social climber and she could be very difficult. I don’t know if you realize this, but the age difference between your parents would have been considerable. Dad was born in 1936. Your mother must have been twenty years younger.”
“I gathered that. What can you tell me about him?”
“I loved Dad, but he worked a lot. I have happy memories of going for walks with him in the city and having pancakes with him on Saturday morning. He was a pretty good father, even if he wasn’t a very good husband.”
“But your mother loved him.”
“Of course.” Kelly sounded offended. “He was handsome and charming. He had a great sense of humor and he was very accomplished. He just happened to be a philanderer. As surprising as it may sound, he adored my mother.” At this, Kelly’s eyes watered. She was quiet for a moment as she fought to control her emotions.
“I see this is upsetting for you, too. I’m sorry.” Gabriel’s tone was gentle.
Kelly waved a Kleenex in the air before drying her eyes.
“It was a shock when we found out he’d had a mistress and that we had a brother. Audrey hasn’t quite gotten over it.”
“And you?”
Kelly put on a brave face.
“I try to practice what I tell my patients and their parents. You can’t control all of life’s circumstances, but you can control your reactions to them. I could stay angry at my father for cheating on my mother. And I could be angry with my mother for being so hard-hearted that she kept me apart from my only brother. Or I could choose to forgive them, and myself, and try to make things better.”
Her eyes fell to her hands, which were resting in her lap. “I always wanted a brother. I just didn’t expect him to be so young.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry my mother and your father were . . . involved.” Gabriel’s expression softened in sympathy.
Her eyes met his. “Thank you, Gabriel. Don’t the strangest sort of miracles come out of the worst of circumstances? Here we sit, after all these years. Knowing Dad, as I did, I’m sure he must have cared for your mother. And you. He wouldn’t have watched you from afar or included you in his estate if he didn’t.”
“I’m not sure.” Gabriel pushed his meal aside.
“I can’t imagine him fighting with my mother over something he didn’t care about. And it was no secret in our family that he always wanted a son. But my mother didn’t want another child.”
Kelly’s head bent so she could stare at her dinner plate. She’d barely touched her food.
“I wish you’d had more time with him. I know that in wishing that, Audrey and I would have had less time.” She gave Gabriel a sad smile. “But I would have shared him.”
“And Audrey?”
“Audrey.” Kelly sighed. “Audrey sided with my mother. She sees you as a gold digger.”
“I didn’t want the money.” Gabriel’s tone was harsh. “I only accepted it because I found myself and my adoptive family in dire circumstances.”
Kelly reached out to him across the table, placing her hand over his.
“I don’t begrudge you a penny.” She patted his hand before withdrawing. “Dad made a series of choices that had consequences for all of us. But he’s dead. Our mothers are dead. It’s time to forgive and move on. Certainly, Gabriel, you did nothing to hurt us. You could have sued the estate for more. You could have appeared at the reading of the will and embarrassed my mother. You could have called a press conference or spoken to a tabloid. But you didn’t. Your actions show that you are a man of character, and that was another reason why I wanted to meet you. I think God brought us together.” She gazed at her brother cautiously.
He blinked a little. “My wife tends to think like that. She sees Providence in everything.”
“I would agree with her.” Kelly finished her wine. “Do you mind if I ask what prompted you to write to Michael?”
“I don’t think it was Providence. Although perhaps it was.” Gabriel toyed with his water glass. “I’m afraid my curiosity was practical more than anything else. Eventually my wife and I would like to have a family. I wanted to know more about my parents’ medical history.”
“That’s a problem easily solved. Dad died of a heart attack. He didn’t exercise, he was a workaholic, and he ate whatever he wanted. I’m not sure he was born with a tendency for high cholesterol, although it’s possible. Certainly, Audrey and I don’t have that problem. As for his parents, as far as I know, they died in old age of natural causes. Did you know about them?”
“Not at all. Not even their names.”
Kelly’s expression saddened.
“I’m sorry to hear that. We’re very proud of our grandparents. Grandfather was a professor, like you. He taught Romantic literature.”
“What was his name?”
“Benjamin Spiegel.”
Gabriel sat bolt upright. “Benjamin Spiegel? Professor Benjamin Spiegel?”
“Yes. You know of him?”
“Of course. He was the leading American expert in German Romanticism. We read his work in graduate school.” Gabriel rubbed at his chin. “He was my grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“But he was . . .” A look of realization came over Gabriel’s face.
Kelly tilted her head, watching him closely. “Jewish, yes.”
Gabriel looked confused. “I had no idea our father was Jewish. It was never mentioned.”
“I can’t speak for your mother, of course, but there’s a long story behind Dad’s silence. He had a youthful falling out with his father and changed his last name to Davies, leaving his family and heritage behind. By the time he met and married my mother, in 1961, he presented himself as an agnostic. So Judaism wasn’t part of our household.”
Gabriel sat very still, his mind working.
“Benjamin Spiegel,” he muttered. “I admire his writing very much.”
“He was a good man. He was a rabbi, you know, before he left Germany in the twenties. He was also a much-beloved professor at Columbia. There’s a building named for him, as well as a number of scholarships. When he died, our grandmother, Miriam, founded a charitable organization in his name here in New York. I’m on the board, along with several of our cousins. I’m sure they’d welcome your involvement, if you’re interested.”
“What does the organization do?”
“We promote literacy and reading in the New York public school system and donate books and supplies to classrooms. We also fund a lecture series at Columbia and at his former temple. Jonathan and I always attend.” She smiled. “We like to say that we’re part of the Presbyterian w
ing of Reform Judaism.”
Gabriel returned her smile. “I didn’t know I was German. Or Jewish. My mother’s family was English, I think.”
“Many people would be surprised at what they find in their family tree if they look back a generation or two. Which is why all this hatred between races and religions is so foolish. We’re all family, in one way or another.”
“I agree.”
Kelly smiled. “Since you’re a professor of literature, I think it would be fitting for you to deliver the lectures at Columbia one year.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m afraid I’m a Dante specialist.”
“Grandfather was interested in everything, judging from the books in his library. I’m sure Dante was there somewhere.”
Gabriel wiped his lips with his napkin. “Won’t it be an embarrassment to the family?”
Kelly’s sapphire eyes grew momentarily fierce, rather like that of a lioness.
“You are family. And if anyone dares to object, well . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she were contemplating something particularly nasty. “Apart from Audrey, I think you’ll find everyone to be civil.”
“In that case, please tell the committee it would be an honor.” He bowed his head slightly.
“Excellent. I’ll mention you to the cousins.”
Kelly pushed her plate of food away and signaled to the waiter to remove it.
“You’ve barely eaten.” She looked with some distress at his full plate.
“I’m afraid I’m not hungry.” He indicated that the waiter take his meal, as well. Then he ordered coffee.
“Have I upset you?” Kelly’s voice was low.
Gabriel paused.
“No. It’s just a lot to process.” His expression shifted and his eyes grew alight. “The revelation that Professor Spiegel is my grandfather is a welcome surprise.”
Her mouth widened into a smile.
“I’d like to introduce you to Aunt Sarah, Dad’s youngest sister. She can tell you all about her parents and your aunts and uncles. She’s a wonderful lady. Very bright.” Kelly regarded him for a moment. “Did your mother ever explain why she called you Gabriel?”
“No. My middle name is Owen, after our father.”