Katherine
Gabe stayed for three hours.
At first she'd been grateful that he was only going to stay for one. But every time he checked his watch. Every time he glanced at her to measure her reaction. Every time he grimaced and tucked the watch back into his pocket with apology scrawled in the hard edges of his face, her choler rose just a little more. And with the growing frustration came a parallel surge of strength.
Drat him for being so considerate! For making her feel like the villain! For murmuring in low, gentle tones to her daughter, making the child laugh and making Katherine's insides grow warm, buzzing with something she hadn't felt in years. For being so beautiful and so terrifying, so kind and so gruff.
Fifty minutes into the first hour, she saw him beginning to fidget. He checked his watch and shifted Isobel's weight from one knee to the other, watching the conversation, clearly waiting for a window to interject with an announcement of his imminent departure.
And she wanted it. Yes, she wanted it! She wanted him gone so she could pull in a breath that didn't hurt.
But also...
"I think it might be time to open presents," she blurted into the next lull in conversation. Amelia quirked an eyebrow and Josh hid a smirk. Melissa grinned, wide and knowing, and turned her attention to Isobel.
"How's that sound to you, little princess?" she asked, and Isobel squealed. Gabe winced at the high-pitched shriek. Katherine knew this because she was watching him, because not watching him sit with her daughter on his knee wasn't an option.
"I think I oughta--"
"You have to stay for presents," Melissa cut him off, and he turned desperate eyes on Katherine.
Help me tell them no, he pleaded silently, that amber gaze sharp and demanding. We had an agreement. For your sake and for mine...
"You really should stay for presents," she said, and wished her voice wasn't drawn quite so tight, so close to snapping.
A muscle in his jaw pulsed and his eyes narrowed. Are you serious?
Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest, and her breath came quick. Was she afraid or excited? Was she thinking of Jacob or thinking of the boy she used to run with in the woods? She lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows. Deadly serious. Stay for presents.
He drew a deep breath, shoulders rising. And then he held it, his fingers drumming against his knee. Before he could muster another silent message, she squared her shoulders and dug deep into the vault of remembered freedom buried within her. She shoved aside the mess of Jacob's fists and oil-slick rages, his ownership of her body, and the constant worry for Rebecca's safety. She pushed all the evil away and found herself with Gabe, years ago, sometime in the early spring, somewhere in the trees by the quiet rush of the river.
She was twelve and he a gangly, sullen thirteen. She wanted to play hide and seek and he said it was a stupid game for stupid little kids. Instead of arguing, she threw herself at him. Tackled him right off his feet into the melting snow. They rolled and wrestled, icy slush soaking into their clothes as they tumbled about in a tangle of limbs. They weren't really fighting. They never really fought. As she elbowed him and tugged him about with a fist in his threadbare shirt, she was really just saying that she wished he'd play with her. As he tickled her to tears and rolled her to her back, he was really just apologizing.
And then he was on all fours over top of her, his nose and cheeks red from the chill and his hair damp from the handful of slush she had dumped over his head. She glared up at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
And then he kissed her.
Right on her lips.
He pressed his mouth to hers, his touch warm and dry and gentle with the fear of rejection.
Katherine had no idea what to do with a kiss. It was a faraway thing, an unknowable beauty. A whispering, teasing freedom, like the distant shores of some exotic land. She didn't have to know it to crave it.
She lay beneath her best friend while he pressed his lips to hers, her arms limp at her sides and her body going still with shock and awe and wonder. After a few eternal seconds he pulled back, the flush of cold on his cheeks spreading up to his ears and down his neck.
"Sorry," he mumbled, shoving away from her and swiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "Sorry, Katie."
She pushed upright, leaning back on her hands in spite of the inch of soft, watery snow, and studied him. "Why are you sorry?"
"You didn't want me to kiss you. I shouldn't have kissed you. Ma says--"
"Who says I didn't want it?" she demanded, clambering up onto her knees.
"Well, you didn't--"
"Is it because I'm a stupid little kid and I'd rather play stupid little kid games?"
His eyes widened in confusion and he shook his head. "What? No! I just--"
"Well I'm not!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping up her chin. "I think you should kiss me again!"
The memory dissolved with the familiar tug of Isobel's hand in her skirts. She looked down to find her daughter had vacated Gabe's lap and now stood at her side, one hand on her leg and the other clutched in the fabric of her own dress. Katherine looked around and saw the entire, modest party watching her with mixed expressions of patient worry.
All except Gabe, who stood beside his chair, one foot behind him as if he wished to back away even while his body fought to reach for her.
"Ma, are you okay?" Isobel asked, tugging at the fabric of her skirt one more time.
"Of course, sweetheart," she said, lifting a hand to brush her fingers over her daughter's cheek. She was pleased to see that her hand wasn't shaking in the slightest. She raised her gaze to Gabe's and smiled, letting the force of that memory fill her face. He was no longer a nervous boy with knobbly elbows and knees and hair that flopped over his eyes. Even so, she could see that familiar wary affection in the honeyed amber of his eyes when he spoke.
"I think I oughta--"
"I would like you to stay for presents, Mr. Townsend," she said, clasping Isobel's hand and rising to her feet. She tipped up her chin to meet the slow burn of his gaze. Jacob's memory threatened her with reprisal, but Gabe's drew her out and prodded her to challenge him. "We would like you to stay. And after presents, we would like you to have a piece of cake and a cup of coffee. Then you may leave."
His lips pinched together-- indecision, and his nostrils flared-- annoyance. His eyes narrowed-- disbelief, and his jaw clenched-- resignation. One shoulder lifted and then fell-- acceptance.
"Fine."
How had Katherine forgotten that, with him, she always won? All she had to do was enter the race, and whether that realization was liberating or terrifying, she really didn't know.
Together, the group moved to the sitting room and gathered to watch Isobel unwrap her array of presents. Katherine was torn between horror that her generous hosts had so spoiled her daughter, and delight that her generous hosts had so spoiled her daughter. She had always tried to make Isobel's birthday special, but Jacob didn't believe in raucous celebration or spending money on 'silly gifts.' This little pile of gift-wrapped bundles was, to Isobel, a mountain of priceless treasures.
Isobel sat on the rag carpet by the fire, receiving each gift as it was passed to her by Melissa, who sat beside the pile beneath the window. Josh and Amelia lounged in a faded blue-velvet chaise with Rebecca sandwiched between them. Katherine made herself a place at Isobel's side, and Gabe sat stiffly in a leather armchair, close enough that if she reached out she could snag his pant leg with her fingers.
If Katherine had been worried about her daughter being a gracious gift recipient, she needn't have done so. Isobel gasped with each tear of the paper, abandoning her spot to shower hugs and thanks at each gift-giver after their generosity was revealed. She received a pretty new pink dress and a small stack of books from Melissa. A doll of her own, specially made in New York City, from Josh and Amelia and a small box full of doll clothes ostensibly from Rebecca. Katherine hadn't had any money to spend on her daughter, but when her hosts prodded and pestered and cajoled, she finally asked them to find an old sled. She had never been able to take Isobel sledding, which was one of her favorite wintertime activities. Jacob said it wasn't decent.
The toboggan was wrapped so clumsily, it was only Isobel's ignorance that had her sucking in a shocked breath when she ripped the paper away. "Ma, what is it?"
"It's a sled!" she explained, helping Isobel pull the rest of the paper away and gesturing at the rough hemp rope and the polished underside. "You can ride it down hills when it snows. It goes very fast."
"As fast as a horse?"
"I suppose so."
"Can we go now?"
"I think we ought to wait for a little bit more snow. But it'll be something to look forward to, won't it? Instead of being sad that the snow is trapping us inside we can be excited to go sledding!"
Isobel nodded in silent agreement, stroking reverent fingers over the shiny wood. Then her eyes shot up to Gabe, and Katherine's followed. The pained look on his face vanished beneath their scrutiny, replaced by calm indifference.
"Mister Gabe, what did you get me?" Isobel asked, already reaching for the bundle Melissa was handing over. It was the last gift. He swallowed, his throat bobbing as he shook his head.
"I already told you, Iz. It's not a very exciting gift. I think you already opened all the good ones."
"They're all good ones, Mister Gabe!" Izzy exclaimed, small fingers already tugging at the twine. "It's my birthday!"
He leaned back in his chair, the picture of apathy if she hadn't been keen on the way his thumb dug into the arm of the chair, denting the leather even while the rest of his fingers drummed casually. Carelessly.
Isobel finally defeated the twine and began shredding the paper. One by one, she unearthed the presents he had folded together beneath the wrapping.
First, a soft blue knit cap, far too big for a little girl. Then a length of shiny blue ribbon, of which Isobel already had several. A worn and tattered old book that looked pitiful sitting beside the embossed covers of the freshly-printed works Melissa had gifted. Finally, a delicate silver bracelet with inset glass jewels that, even to Katherine's untrained eye, could never have passed for real diamonds.
Katherine's chest ached as she watched her daughter lay the sad assortment of items out before her, one by one, in studied silence. Her little mouth hung slightly open, her brow furrowed. It was rare that Katherine ever felt anything other than soul-deep affection for her daughter, but in that moment she wanted to shake the little girl.
Say thank you! Please, Izzy, say thank you! She screamed the words with her mind, hurling them through the pudding-thick silence. She could feel the hum of Gabe's energy-- humiliation and guilt. Why had she made him stay? Oh, what had she been thinking? He'd never come back after this disaster, and why was it only just now that she realized how desperately she wanted him to come back?
Gosh drat it, if Isobel didn't pull herself together and feign gratitude right this instant she would put the girl in time out until she turned twenty!
All the silent, motionless tumult on the room rose to a staggering crescendo in the span of a split second.
Katherine opened her mouth to say 'thank you' in her daughter's stead.
Josh shifted uncomfortably and Amelia put a hand on his leg.
Melissa sucked in a breath as if to speak.
Gabe leaned forward as if to stand.
And Isobel. God bless her daughter. Isobel looked up with watery eyes, her gaze fixing Gabe to his seat. "Thank you," she breathed, with such wonder and fervor one might have thought he'd sailed to England and plucked the crown jewels right from the queen's unsuspecting head and brought them back to her.
Before he could respond, or Katherine could sweep her daughter into a grateful hug, Izzie pulled the too-big hat onto her head and clambered to her feet, the ribbon in one hand and the bracelet in the other, the book tucked under her arm. While Katherine watched on, her heart shattering in her chest, Isobel placed the book on his lap and held out the hand with the bracelet.
"Put it on," she demanded. He stared at her for a long second, and Katherine wondered if she saw it. How could he not? How could anyone not see it, with her standing right there before him with her inky black hair and those sweet, honeyed amber eyes? How could anyone miss the way her forehead crinkled to mirror his and the brazen defiance in her posture eclipsed the somber strength towering over her?
Without a word, he took the bracelet and fastened it around her wrist. It was far too big. Katherine would have to make sure she never went outside with the thing or she'd lose it. Which, judging by her behavior, would warrant a tantrum of catastrophic intensity. Cradling her hand against her chest, Isobel handed him the ribbon and turned her back, eyes still gazing fondly at the dull faux jewels adorning her wrist.
"I want the ribbon in my hair," she said. Katherine had half a mind to scold her for her demanding tone, but she made the mistake of looking at Gabe. He swallowed hard once more, broad shoulders rising and falling a little faster than the situation called for. When he finally spoke, his voice was a crack of dry timber.
"You've already got ribbons," he mumbled, the one he'd given Isobel looped around his finger and his hands clenched atop his thighs.
"Well, take them out!" she said impatiently, glancing at him over her shoulder. "It's my birthday and I want the blue ribbon, Mister Gabe." Then, before Katherine's inner mother could rise up and say something about her tone, the little shoulders slumped and she turned around. "Please?" she begged, her voice quiet and unexpectedly contrite. "I know I'm greedy but I want the ribbon in my hair because it matches my hat. And it's my favorite ribbon. The other ones aren't as good. Please?"
"You're not greedy," he said gruffly, gently turning her around with a hand on her shoulder. "You've got two braids, though, Iz. Which one, uh... which one do you want me to put the ribbon on?"
She laughed, the sound a tinkle of bells. "Just tie 'em together, Mister Gabe," she said. "It's alright that way. Right, ma?"
For the first time, she involved Katherine in the little drama, and all she could do was nod. Gabe grimaced behind Isobel's back and carefully tugged the pink ribbons from her hair, setting them aside. Then he tied the two haphazard braids together with the most pitiful attempt at a bow that Katherine had ever seen. She didn't even realize she'd barked out a laugh until Melissa echoed it. She clapped a hand over her mouth as Gabe fixed her with a lukewarm glare, his expression out-measured in intensity by the eerily similar scowl she received from the little girl who stood before him.
"Sorry," she said through her fingers. "I'm sorry. It's just..." Did she dare say it? A spike of fear shot through her. Did she dare insult him? Even in jest? Closing her eyes, she conjured up the image of the gangly boy with snow-matted hair, cheeks burning after he kissed her. "I'm sorry," she said again, opening her eyes. Amelia and Josh, Melissa and Rebecca were all forgotten as she studied two sets of eyes-- four pools of fire-touched whiskey. "I'm sorry," she uttered one last time, lowering her hand from her mouth and reaching out to Isobel. "Isobel, honey, you have to let me fix it. Mister Gabe is a clever man, and he gives wonderful gifts, but I don't think his talents extend to tying ribbons in little girls' hair. If you don't let me fix it you'll take two steps and lose your ribbon and your braids. Is that what you want?"
Her daughter's scowl faded and she reluctantly left Gabe's side, reaching behind her to hold her quickly-deteriorating hair-do in place as she walked. Katherine made quick work of combing the twin braids out with her fingers and plaiting the stubborn locks into a single braid down the center of Isobel's back, winding the ribbon into the braid and then using the loose end to tie it off.
"There," she said, patting her on the rump. "All better."
Isobel hustled off to show her bracelet and her ribbon to the other guests, all of whom reacted with all due awe and amazement. When she made it back to Gabe, she scrambled up into his lap before he could help or deter her. "Is this your favorite book?" she asked, retrieving the battered old tome from where she had abandoned it on his thigh. He shrugged.
"One of 'em."
"Will you read it to me?"
He glanced at Katherine and she smiled and lifted a shoulder.
"A couple pages, I reckon. You'll have to ask your ma to read you the rest."
"But I want you to read it all to me."
"Well, I can't read it all in a night, Isobel." He sounded so reasonable and patient. So quietly exasperated. So like a father that Katherine had to lower her gaze to her lap.
"Then you can come back later to finish it!"
She felt more than heard him struggle to find an answer to that subtle demand. Had she not just chastised him for promising Isobel he would come see her? He would still be laboring under the illusion that she didn't want him in their lives, but she understood how her daughter could be. Who would he rather hurt?
Instead of giving him a chance to make that wretched decision, she climbed to her feet. "I think that sounds like a good idea, sweetheart," she said, plucking her daughter from Gabe's lap and setting her on her feet. "Mister Gabe will have to come back and visit us again soon. Isn't that right?" she turned her gaze to Gabe, who stared at her for a split second of shock before wrangling his tongue.
"Sure," he said with another one of those careless shrugs that carried so much weight.
Relief was a gentle breeze inside of her, because she didn't feel good but she felt better. She didn't feel strong but she felt whole. All this time she had been recovering and she hadn't truly realized it until she'd been placed against the penultimate test of her fortitude. No, she wasn't ready for Jacob. She may never be ready to face Jacob. Heck, she may never even be ready to truly face Gabe. But at least she was strong enough to stand in a room with him and not crumple into a heap of sodden, stinking dirty laundry.
"In the meantime," she said, her head swimming giddily with her newfound strength, "I think we should have cake."