Page 91
Story: Devil in Spring
As the third evening approached, Gabriel looked up blearily as two people entered the room.
His parents.
The sight of them infused him with relief. At the same time, their presence unlatched all the wretched emotion he’d kept battened down until this moment. Disciplining his breathing, he stood awkwardly, his limbs stiff from spending hours on the hard chair. His father came to him first, pulling him close for a crushing hug and ruffling his hair before going to the bedside.
His mother was next, embracing him with her familiar tenderness and strength. She was the one he’d always gone to first whenever he’d done something wrong, knowing she would never condemn or criticize, even when he deserved it. She was a source of endless kindness, the one to whom he could entrust his worst thoughts and fears.
“I promised nothing would ever harm her,” Gabriel said against her hair, his voice cracking.
Evie’s gentle hands patted his back.
“I took my eyes off her when I shouldn’t have,” he went on. “Mrs. Black approached her after the play—I pulled the bitch aside, and I was too distracted to notice—” He stopped talking and cleared his throat harshly, trying not to choke on emotion.
Evie waited until he’d calmed himself before saying quietly, “You remember when I told you about the time your f-father was badly injured because of me.”
“That wasn’t because of you,” Sebastian said irritably from the bedside. “Evie, have you harbored that absurd idea for all these years?”
“It’s the most terrible feeling in the world,” Evie murmured to Gabriel. “But it’s not your fault, and trying to make it so won’t help either of you. Dearest boy, are you listening to me?”
Keeping his face pressed against her hair, Gabriel shook his head.
“Pandora won’t blame you for what happened,” Evie told him, “any more than your father blamed me.”
“Neither of you are to blame for anything,” his father said, “except for annoying me with this nonsense. Obviously the only person to blame for this poor girl’s injury is the woman who attempted to skewer her like a pinioned duck.” He straightened the covers over Pandora, bent to kiss her forehead gently, and sat in the bedside chair. “My son . . . guilt, in proper measure, can be a useful emotion. However, when indulged to excess it becomes self-defeating, and even worse, tedious.” Stretching out his long legs, he crossed them negligently. “There’s no reason to tear yourself to pieces worrying about Pandora. She’s going to make a full recovery.”
“You’re a doctor now?” Gabriel asked sardonically, although some of the weight of grief and worry lifted at his father’s confident pronouncement.
“I daresay I’ve seen enough illness and injuries in my time, stabbings included, to predict the outcome accurately. Besides, I know the spirit of this girl. She’ll recover.”
“I agree,” Evie said firmly.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, Gabriel tightened his arms around her.
After a long moment, he heard his mother say ruefully, “Sometimes I miss the days when I could solve any of my children’s problems with a nap and a biscuit.”
“A nap and a biscuit wouldn’t hurt this one at the moment,” Sebastian commented dryly. “Gabriel, go find a proper bed and rest for a few hours. We’ll watch over your little fox cub.”
Chapter 23
In the week and a half since Pandora had returned home, she’d wondered more than once if they’d sent the wrong husband back from the clinic with her.
It wasn’t that Gabriel was indifferent or cold . . . in fact, no man could have been more attentive. He insisted on taking care of her himself, seeing to her most intimate needs and doing everything humanly possible to ensure her comfort. He had changed her wound dressing, gave her sponge baths, read to her, and massaged her feet and legs for long, blissful intervals to improve her circulation.
He had insisted on feeding her, patiently spooning beef tea or fruit ices or blancmange into her mouth. Blancmange, incidentally, had turned out to be a revelation. Everything she thought she’d disliked before, its mildness, its whiteness, and lack of texture, turned out to be the best things about it. Although Pandora could easily have fed herself, Gabriel had refused to let her have the spoon. It had taken two full days before she’d managed to wrest it from him.
And flatware was the least of her concerns. Gabriel had once been the most charming man in the world, but now all his irreverent humor and playfulness had vanished. There was no more flirtation, no teasing and joking . . . only this unending quiet stoicism that was beginning to feel a bit grueling. She understood he had been deeply worried for her sake, and was concerned about potential setbacks to her recovery, but she missed the Gabriel of before. She missed the private energy of attraction and humor that used to connect them in an invisible current. And now that she was feeling better, the iron control he exerted over every minute of her day was beginning to make her feel a little hemmed in. Trapped, actually.
When she complained to Garrett Gibson, who visited daily to assess her progress, the doctor surprised her by taking Gabriel’s side. “He experienced a great mental and emotional shock,” Garrett explained. “In a way, he’s been wounded, too, and needs time to recover. Invisible wounds can sometimes be as devastating as physical ones.”
“But he will go back to the way he was?” Pandora asked hopefully.
“I expect so, for the most part. However, he’s acquired an awareness of how tenuous life can be. A life-threatening illness tends to change our perspective on one particular thing.”
His parents.
The sight of them infused him with relief. At the same time, their presence unlatched all the wretched emotion he’d kept battened down until this moment. Disciplining his breathing, he stood awkwardly, his limbs stiff from spending hours on the hard chair. His father came to him first, pulling him close for a crushing hug and ruffling his hair before going to the bedside.
His mother was next, embracing him with her familiar tenderness and strength. She was the one he’d always gone to first whenever he’d done something wrong, knowing she would never condemn or criticize, even when he deserved it. She was a source of endless kindness, the one to whom he could entrust his worst thoughts and fears.
“I promised nothing would ever harm her,” Gabriel said against her hair, his voice cracking.
Evie’s gentle hands patted his back.
“I took my eyes off her when I shouldn’t have,” he went on. “Mrs. Black approached her after the play—I pulled the bitch aside, and I was too distracted to notice—” He stopped talking and cleared his throat harshly, trying not to choke on emotion.
Evie waited until he’d calmed himself before saying quietly, “You remember when I told you about the time your f-father was badly injured because of me.”
“That wasn’t because of you,” Sebastian said irritably from the bedside. “Evie, have you harbored that absurd idea for all these years?”
“It’s the most terrible feeling in the world,” Evie murmured to Gabriel. “But it’s not your fault, and trying to make it so won’t help either of you. Dearest boy, are you listening to me?”
Keeping his face pressed against her hair, Gabriel shook his head.
“Pandora won’t blame you for what happened,” Evie told him, “any more than your father blamed me.”
“Neither of you are to blame for anything,” his father said, “except for annoying me with this nonsense. Obviously the only person to blame for this poor girl’s injury is the woman who attempted to skewer her like a pinioned duck.” He straightened the covers over Pandora, bent to kiss her forehead gently, and sat in the bedside chair. “My son . . . guilt, in proper measure, can be a useful emotion. However, when indulged to excess it becomes self-defeating, and even worse, tedious.” Stretching out his long legs, he crossed them negligently. “There’s no reason to tear yourself to pieces worrying about Pandora. She’s going to make a full recovery.”
“You’re a doctor now?” Gabriel asked sardonically, although some of the weight of grief and worry lifted at his father’s confident pronouncement.
“I daresay I’ve seen enough illness and injuries in my time, stabbings included, to predict the outcome accurately. Besides, I know the spirit of this girl. She’ll recover.”
“I agree,” Evie said firmly.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, Gabriel tightened his arms around her.
After a long moment, he heard his mother say ruefully, “Sometimes I miss the days when I could solve any of my children’s problems with a nap and a biscuit.”
“A nap and a biscuit wouldn’t hurt this one at the moment,” Sebastian commented dryly. “Gabriel, go find a proper bed and rest for a few hours. We’ll watch over your little fox cub.”
Chapter 23
In the week and a half since Pandora had returned home, she’d wondered more than once if they’d sent the wrong husband back from the clinic with her.
It wasn’t that Gabriel was indifferent or cold . . . in fact, no man could have been more attentive. He insisted on taking care of her himself, seeing to her most intimate needs and doing everything humanly possible to ensure her comfort. He had changed her wound dressing, gave her sponge baths, read to her, and massaged her feet and legs for long, blissful intervals to improve her circulation.
He had insisted on feeding her, patiently spooning beef tea or fruit ices or blancmange into her mouth. Blancmange, incidentally, had turned out to be a revelation. Everything she thought she’d disliked before, its mildness, its whiteness, and lack of texture, turned out to be the best things about it. Although Pandora could easily have fed herself, Gabriel had refused to let her have the spoon. It had taken two full days before she’d managed to wrest it from him.
And flatware was the least of her concerns. Gabriel had once been the most charming man in the world, but now all his irreverent humor and playfulness had vanished. There was no more flirtation, no teasing and joking . . . only this unending quiet stoicism that was beginning to feel a bit grueling. She understood he had been deeply worried for her sake, and was concerned about potential setbacks to her recovery, but she missed the Gabriel of before. She missed the private energy of attraction and humor that used to connect them in an invisible current. And now that she was feeling better, the iron control he exerted over every minute of her day was beginning to make her feel a little hemmed in. Trapped, actually.
When she complained to Garrett Gibson, who visited daily to assess her progress, the doctor surprised her by taking Gabriel’s side. “He experienced a great mental and emotional shock,” Garrett explained. “In a way, he’s been wounded, too, and needs time to recover. Invisible wounds can sometimes be as devastating as physical ones.”
“But he will go back to the way he was?” Pandora asked hopefully.
“I expect so, for the most part. However, he’s acquired an awareness of how tenuous life can be. A life-threatening illness tends to change our perspective on one particular thing.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101