The Battered Heiress Blues (27 page)

“What piece of chicken do you prefer, Henry?” she asked.

Before he could answer, I opened my mouth, causing Tommy’s tea to practically come out of his nose. He just about aspirated the drink into his lungs.

“He’s a breast man, Ms. Martin,” I interjected.

Henry wasn’t amused. He shot me that belittling look of great disappointment which I sent back with a bit of a cracked smile attached; proud to have gotten under his skin.

“Don’t be cheeky, Jewels. I’ll take the wings, please, Ms. Martin. Thank you,” he answered politely.

“Some green beans?” she asked.

“Please,” he replied.

“How about some mashed potatoes? They’re a little looser than usual, but…”

“The looser the better for him, Ms. Martin,” I spouted, unable to stifle my angst.

Before I knew it, my plate was being lifted above my head. Gabe was taking it out to the brick porch, knowing I’d follow the food. The fork I was holding was still full of mashed potatoes.

“We’re going to eat outside,” he said with a smile, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll join you,” John dryly added, lifting his plate and utensils to follow us.

“It’s December. It’s cold out there,” Tommy cautioned.

“I’ll turn on the patio heater. She’ll be warm enough. Enjoy your meal,” Gabe replied.

Even my father got a good laugh out of my commentary. I was on fire, for the time being. I knew Tommy would reprimand my behavior later as being unchristian like, but I planned on getting as much mileage out of humiliating Henry as possible. I wondered how he liked it- feeling vulnerable and wounded. The shoe was finally on the other foot.

Retreating to the drawing room after the meal, I laid back on the couch, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the songs of Christmas. Just as I was zoning out, he approached.

“We need to talk,” Henry demanded.

“About?”

“About this entire situation.”

“Why don’t you open your Christmas gift first? We always used to open one on Christmas Eve,” I said. “Remember?”

I leaned forward and took the FedEx pouch I’d brought downstairs for opening in the morning. The pouch contained one envelope. I’d left Gabe’s envelope upstairs on my bedside table, assuming he’d join Tommy and me in watching our traditional Christmas movie. I pulled it out and handed it to Henry.

“What’s this?” he asked, confused.

“It’s your Christmas present- open it,” I demanded as I pushed the envelope into his chest. I sat back against the pillows on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table as he read its contents.

“You’re giving me the deed to the cottage and its five surrounding acres, along with a cashier’s check for $500,000? I don’t understand.”

“Oops, wrong envelope. That’s for Gabe. They must have gotten switched. Your envelope must be up in my room.”

“That property is waterfront Jewels. It’s worth millions. What if he sells it and you have someone living on top of you that you don’t like? You just can’t give away expensive assets like that. It’s irresponsible. You could easily get five million for that land.”

“It all comes back to money for you, doesn’t it?” I noted, waiting for an answer that would support his position.

“People don’t throw away their assets like this. You’ve only known Gabe for a little under a year and you’re essentially writing him a check for five million dollars. That’s crazy. And the money…”

“It’s crazy to someone like you who is chasing his tail trying to turn a penny into a quarter. Gabe cares about people. He has no use for my money. That’s why it’s a pleasure to give it to him because he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t expect it. He’s just happy punching a clock and making an honest living. He’s happy with his life, making a modest salary. He accepts his position with joy, placing importance on people rather than power.”

“So, he’s everything I’m not?”

“He was there for me while you were banging Tricia. When I was bleeding and thought that Emma Grace was lost to me, Gabe was my strength. He and his mom have waited on me hand and foot. They’ve become my family. Mattie is essentially my nephew. I love them. They love me. They’ll still be standing at my side once you’re long gone. Hard working, good-natured, Southern folk don’t desert a friend in need. Giving them the cottage and land means that he doesn’t have to worry about providing a place for Mattie to grow up. It means that he can put his money into treatments and specialists for his son instead of rent or a mortgage. Your envelope is upstairs. I’ll give it to you in the morning. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Well I can hardly wait to see mine, big spender. What did you get for me?” he quipped, trying to bait me.

“Oh I think you’ll be pleased,” I replied. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Ms. Martin sent me packing to bed with a goblet full of fruit. Gabe was good enough to sneak some whipped cream and chocolate sauce up to me. He brought Mattie by my room to say goodnight. They usually stayed in the main house, but the addition of Henry as a visitor got under Gabe’s skin. He also didn’t want to stumble upon Kate without warning. The cottage provided a safe haven. He knew that I would call with any news, allowing him time to collect his thoughts.

Mattie and I talked about Santa coming in the morning. He didn’t seem to understand, but I knew he would go nuts over the gifts; especially the telescope I had installed down at the beach. I gave him a big squeeze before he broke free and ran out of the room. Gabe slid closer to me.

“Are you sure that you can’t stay and watch the Griswold’s’ with us- it’s tradition?” I begged.

“I better get him home. Santa will not come if you’re awake, you know?”

“Speaking of Santa, he left something here for you.”

I reached inside the FedEx pouch and pulled out the envelope which Henry had mistakenly opened. Handing it to Gabe, I decided to pre-sell the reasons why I was giving him the gift so I didn’t have to stomach him declining the present.

“Before you say anything, I want you to know how special you and Mattie have become to me. You’re precious jewels; family, just like Tommy. I want you to have a place to call home, without struggling to make ends meet. Mattie’s medical expenses are huge. I’ve spoken to an architect about building a proper home for you boys- one with an environment that will help stimulate Mattie. He said that they can build your home and a guest house for your mom for the $500,000. You can pick out the plan that suits you best. The current cottage needs to be bull-dozed along with the memories it holds. It’s time to start fresh. Please say you’ll accept it. It’ll destroy me if you don’t.”

“I don’t know what to say, Julia. No one has ever given me a gift like this. It’s too much.”

“Say yes. You’re not even scratching the surface of my trust fund. The land is an asset. I have plenty more acres left. Please say yes. It will ensure that the next generation stays together. Emma Grace and Mattie are destined to be the best of friends- just like us.”

Gabe looked shocked. He was smiling, but speechless. After a few minutes of staring at the documents, he shook his head in agreement.

“One more thing…” I added.

“No more, Julia. You’re going to send me into cardiac arrest. This kind of stuff just doesn’t happen to commoners,” he said laughing in disbelief.

“Commoners? You’re a comedian. It’s for Mattie- not you.”

I opened the nightstand table and removed some papers that I had drawn up myself. Being a lawyer and having passed the Georgia Bar had come in handy for times like this.

“You’ve done enough for him,” he said.

“This is a trust account for Mattie. I don’t want you to worry about his future and any surmounting medical expenses. Since I’ve been stuck in bed so much, I have read about some good therapies that might help him. Traveling and treatments take money. You’ll have to pay doctor’s fees, hotels, airfare, food, rental cars…You can’t do it on a cop’s salary. Mattie deserves every opportunity. Now you can search them out and decide for yourself. Now you have the money to find your miracle. He’s starting to communicate. This is forward progress. I believe with all my heart that he’ll keep the momentum going with the correct therapy.”

Gabe’s eyes welled up with tears. One single droplet escaped before he could man up and wipe them away. He pulled me to him and held me, thanking me profusely for the gift of hope; the kind money can’t buy. We both knew that Mattie was perfect exactly as he was, but knowing he wanted to communicate had changed the game.

“I have to go before a Victoria’s Secret model comes out of your bathroom wearing a red bow,” he sniped.

“No worries with that. I hate those skinny bitches right now,” I replied as I dug into my fruit.

He stood up and headed for the door laughing.

“Hey, what did you get Mattie for Christmas,” I inquired.

“Just a dog,” he said smiling.

“That trumps my trinkets. Thanks a lot.”

“I know. Nothing beats a puppy; except maybe waterfront property, a house, and a trust account. See you in the morning my dear, crazy friend.”

Gabe and Mattie leaving made the house seem eerily still and quiet. I went to collect Tommy from his room for our annual
“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”
movie, but he was fast asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Life was changing for me at an alarming rate. Traditions were falling by the wayside and new traditions were being made. I was learning to be okay with that.

John stopped by to say goodnight before he retired for the evening. He was looking more tired than usual. We exchanged pleasantries and well wishes for a restful sleep. He hugged me again, and although it still felt awkward, I was getting addicted to his newfound desire to express himself through actions. Somehow, I knew my mom was pleased with both of us.

The addition of Henry to our family Christmas gathering had taken a lot out of me. My invisible wounds were starting to weep; the sadness was spilling out. With my father and brother asleep, I decided to follow their lead and rest before the excitement of Christmas morning captured my diminishing energy. After washing my face and changing into pajamas, I entered the bedroom. His reflection in the dresser mirror startled me. Henry was sitting in the recliner, staring.

“You scared me,” I gasped alarmed and perturbed. “Don’t you knock?”

“I didn’t know where to sleep,” he replied softly, realizing that the others were asleep.

“Not here. This house is full of couches- pick one. I’ll give you some linens and a pillow.”

Henry looked sullen and depressed. It wasn’t a look he wore well. He had always been the poster child for control and self-assuredness, but no longer. His eyes were sad. He put his head down into his hands for a brief minute, before collecting himself to face me. He was lost.

“Sorry…about whatever I did to make you so angry- even to the point of keeping the news of our daughter from me. You’re mad about Tricia. I get it, somewhat, but you asked me to leave, Jewels, or did you forget that? You didn’t want to work it out. You sent me back to New York to live without you. I simply tried to do what you asked. Listen, I don’t expect pity from you, but in the course of a day, I’ve discovered that I’m going to be a father, I’ve lost my job, something is wrong with our baby, and it’s clear that you want nothing more to do with me. I need a bit of time to get my bearings- not pity, just time. So, do you think it’s possible for you to withhold your insults and fury for one evening?”

When I go in for the kill, I typically forget to stop and assess the damage. I just plow forward until total and utter defeat is achieved. My aching heart had demanded his ruin, but the man before me was already a wreck. He was injured. I finally allowed myself to see that. Sitting down on the bed, I mustered up the empathy that the situation called for, answering his concerns point by point.

“I was wrong not to call you about our baby. There are other jobs out there for someone as talented and savvy as you. I’ll explain the pregnancy complications in detail so you understand what we’re facing. I don’t know what to say about us.”

He could tell that I was sending up the white flag of surrender. The baby’s life demanded that a truce exist between us, and hope, though suppressed, remained a part of my being. His response was to rise from the recliner and sit down next to me on the bed.

“How is our daughter? Why are you on bed rest? No one around here will give me a straight answer.”

“They’re just protecting my privacy. Everyone has been sworn to secrecy.”

“A job well done, I’d say.”

“I started bleeding during the second trimester. Dr. Brandon diagnosed me with having a complete placenta previa…”

“A what-?” he interrupted.

“Let me finish and then I’ll answer your questions as best I can. That means that the placenta has grown over the cervical opening- the birth canal. The baby’s delivery has to be planned. Having her try to be born vaginally would be disastrous. She’ll need to be delivered through cesarean section. During my last check-up, he said that the placenta had grown into the uterine wall. They will have to excise the placenta from the uterus very carefully to manage bleeding after they take her. Currently, we are just trying to get to thirty-six weeks to help allow time for her lungs to mature. That’s why I’m on bed rest.”