Page 44 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)

THIRTY-SIX

London, England

“Bastard! Dirty bastard!” Quinn raged as she tossed aside the necklace in utter disbelief.

“What’s all the shouting about?” Gabe asked as he poked his head through the door. “Who’s a dirty bastard, and should Emma be hearing this kind of language from her highly respectable mother?”

“Oh, Gabe, I never saw that coming. Never in a million years,” Quinn cried. “How could he? Why would he?”

“I think you’d better explain.”

Quinn began to tell Gabe what she’d seen until Emma came bounding into the room.

“Who’s a dirty bastard?” she asked happily. “Can I say that too?”

“No, you can’t say that. Mum said ‘dirty blanket.’ You misheard,” Gabe said sternly.

“No, I didn’t. And the blanket is clean,” she added, giving Alex’s yellow blanket a cursory check. “You are in so much trouble,” she said to Quinn. “And you are in trouble for lying to me,” she said, turning to Gabe. “What kind of parents are you?”

“I guess that’s us told,” Quinn said, feeling guilty as sin. So much for teaching Emma not to swear or lie.

“So, what do you think our punishment should be?” Gabe asked, clearly curious to see what Emma would come up with .

“You have to take me to see Penguins of Madagascar , buy me popcorn and a drink, and then take me out for pizza and ice cream afterwards.”

“That’s so unfair,” Gabe moaned theatrically. “I hate films about penguins.”

“Tough luck, Daddy. A punishment is a punishment.”

“So, what’s Quinn’s punishment then?” he enquired.

“She gets to mind Alex; that’s punishment enough.”

“Emma, that’s a dreadful thing to say,” Quinn bristled. “He’s so sweet.”

“Can something that spits up and poos all day really be called sweet?” Emma replied, arms crossed defensively in front of her.

“Yes, it can. You spit up and pooed too, and your mum adored you,” Quinn replied, deeply offended on Alex’s behalf.

Emma considered that for a moment. “Did she? I wish I could remember.” She suddenly looked so sad that Quinn’s heart nearly broke for her.

Had Emma been older when her mother died, she’d remember Jenna, but since she’d been only four, the memories were fading, leaving her frustrated and lonely for the woman who’d loved and raised her.

Emma had a framed photo of herself with her mum in her bedroom, but that wasn’t the same as having actual memories.

“Come here,” Gabe beckoned. Emma climbed onto the bed and allowed Gabe to pull her into a hug. “Your mum loved you, and we love you. Just because we also love Alex doesn’t mean that you are any less important.”

“I know,” Emma mumbled. “I love him too.”

“I know you do,” Quinn said as she kissed Emma’s forehead. “And you are right, you deserve an outing. Daddy can take you, or maybe he can mind Alex for the afternoon and we can have a girls’ day out. Which would you prefer?”

“Can we go shopping after the film?”

“We certainly can.”

“Then Daddy can mind Alex. They can have a boys’ day in. Won’t that be nice, Daddy?” Emma asked coyly.

“It’ll be amazing. Alex and I will go to the pub for a pint and play a couple games of snooker.”

“Daddy!”

“All right. We’ll stay at home, enjoy some breast milk—that’s Alex, not me—and then hopefully have a long nap.”

“Alex will like that,” Emma said, oozing approval. “And I think Mum needs a night out. You really should take her on a date,” she added.

“And how did you come up with that wise notion?” Gabe asked.

“Aidan said his parents have date night once a month, and if they don’t have a blazing row during dinner, they usually wind up sha?—”

“Right. I get the picture.”

“She’s right, you know. I could use a night out,” Quinn piped in. “We haven’t had a date since August.”

Gabe stared at her. “Really? Has it been that long?”

“It has. I demand to be taken out for a nice meal, and maybe even a film, but not one about penguins.”

“I’ll call Brenda and see if she’d be open to minding the children for a few hours. ”

“If Brenda can’t, then I’ll ask Jill. She’s offered in the past.”

“Why can’t we stay with Grandma Sylvia? I want to see Jude,” Emma said. “I miss him.”

Gabe and Quinn exchanged glances. Sylvia would have enjoyed spending a few hours with the children, but given recent events, it was safer not to try that experiment again. “Maybe next time. Grandma Sylvia has a touch of a cold,” Quinn said.

“Are you lying to me again?” Emma demanded. “I can always tell, you know.”

“Can you?”

“You always pause and take a breath before you tell me something that’s not quite true,” she said, pinning Quinn with her dark blue gaze.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do. I’m going to go to my room now and let you discuss this amongst yourselves.”

“Do I do that?” Quinn asked Gabe as soon as Emma departed in a huff.

“You sure do.”

“My God, Gabe, she’s only five. How can she be so perceptive?”

“She can’t help it; it’s in her genes.”

“Should we tell her the truth about Sylvia and Jude then?”

“No. She’s too young to understand the complexities of some relationships, and even though she’s astute enough to realize that something is being withheld from her, we, as her parents, will be the ones to decide when and what to tell her, at least for now. ”

“How did you get so smart? Have you been talking to Aidan?” Quinn joked.

“No, but I think I will. Maybe I can book weekly sessions.”

They burst out laughing and promptly woke up the baby, who’d dozed off.