Stand by Me (56 page)
Yet back in Cork, with Greg in the bed beside her and the knowledge that she was carrying his baby, Emma couldn’t help the waves of guilt washing over her. She had been wrong to deceive Greg. If she’d wanted to sleep with Gabriel, she should have left her husband first.
If it was an option, if Gabriel was available, would she leave Greg for him now? Would she leave someone who was a considerate and tender lover for someone who hadn’t a clue - always provided that he wanted her in the first place? Gabriel could learn about sex, of course. But would he? And it wasn’t just about sex, Emma acknowledged to herself. It was about the family. She was, after all, going to be part of a family with Greg. Two parents and their child. What the hell would she be with Gabriel?
She allowed herself to think of all these things before remembering that Gabriel hadn’t said anything about giving up the priesthood for her. And she wondered if the sins of the flesh, which he’d enjoyed so much with her, would be enough to make him want to change his life for ever. She wondered if he’d think she was worth it.
She didn’t see him again until a month before her mother died. Maura had been in a hospice at that point and Gabriel had called to see her. He’d been sitting by her bed when Emma had walked in, and had stared at her in stunned amazement.
Afterwards, he met her in the coffee shop and looked at her anxiously.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.
‘Why should I?’
‘We’ve been in touch for months,’ he said. ‘You should have said something.’
‘It wasn’t relevant,’ she said.
He continued to look at her, and suddenly she realised what was bothering him.
‘It’s not your baby, Gabriel,’ she told him.
‘How can you be sure of that?’ he asked.
And then she told him that she’d been pregnant when they’d made love, and an expression of utter revulsion had passed over his face as he’d put his cup back on the saucer with a hand that was shaking.
‘You had no right ...’
‘Oh, shut up, Gabriel,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t start lecturing me on what’s right or not.’
‘What happened between us was incredibly wrong.’
‘I know. But you liked it.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘You wanted to know when we could meet again,’ she pointed out. He’d sent that text to her the week after they’d both returned home.
‘I’m struggling with this,’ he said. ‘I’ve been struggling with it since it happened. The physical stuff. And how I was feeling. Everything.’
‘I’ve been struggling too,’ she told him. ‘I’m the married woman after all!’ She reached out and touched his hand, and he jerked back from her as though she’d hit him.
‘Look, it’s not that I don’t . . . It’s just . . . inappropriate,’ he said urgently. ‘Emma - we can’t . . . it’s not right. It will never be right.’ And then he’d got up and walked out, leaving her to finish her tea under the curious gaze of the two women who’d been sitting at the table opposite them.
He hadn’t sent any more texts or messages. Then Maura had died. And her funeral had been a strain for Emma in more ways than one. There was no way Gabriel couldn’t be there. Norman had wanted him to come. And Emma had wanted him there too, because his absence would have been noticed.
On the evening of the funeral, she and Greg were alone in the living room of her parents’ house (Norman had gone to bed) when she suddenly started to cry. Greg had hugged her gently and told her that it was a difficult time and that she’d been brilliant with her mother and it was time for her to let it all out.
She’d cried harder, and then, unable to stop herself, had told him about Gabriel.
He’d stopped hugging her after that.
And even though, after Lugh was born, he told her that it was in the past and that he wasn’t going to talk about it, he never again hugged her in the way he’d hugged her before. And even though he’d made love to her, it had never been the same either.
When Emma had learned from Dominique that Gabriel had given up the priesthood, she’d waited for him to call her. She’d wondered if his leaving had been because of her and their night together. She’d both wanted to hear from him and dreaded it. But he hadn’t got in touch with her. Which left her feeling hurt. And relieved.
She didn’t love Gabriel Brady. She’d realised that after they’d made love in the Clarence Hotel. Because she’d realised that they hadn’t made love, they’d just had sex. Not even very good sex. The irony of it all, she supposed, was that in sleeping with Gabriel, she’d realised just how much she loved Greg. But in confessing to Greg what she’d done, she’d managed to betray his trust in her for ever.
She’d been a fool, she knew that. Wanting what she couldn’t have, making sure she got it in the end. And then finding out that it hadn’t been worth it.
Now she looked at Gabriel Brady, the ex-priest, sitting in front of her, his handsome face worried and concerned.
‘Are you sure your marriage is over?’ he asked.
‘Would anyone in their right mind blame Greg for leaving me?’ she asked. ‘I was unfaithful to him. I was the one who messed it up. And why? To fulfil a whim.’
‘Sleeping with me was a whim?’ asked Gabriel. ‘Nothing more?’
‘Gabriel, I seduced you that day. I wasn’t thinking about anyone other than myself. I was a horrible, selfish person and I deserved what I got.’
‘But . . .’
‘And you know what?’
‘What?’
‘I think maybe I thought that it would be OK because you were a priest and, in the end, you’d stop me. And I could have told myself that I’d really tried to make you love me and failed.’
‘So you’re blaming me?’ He looked puzzled.
She shook her head. ‘Oh no. It was my own fault. But I was stupid and foolish and I forgot that I was only one person in a whole tangle of people’s lives. Maybe I thought that sex with you would be so wonderful that nothing else would matter. That the two of us would walk into the sunset in some great love story. But that wouldn’t have happened, because I was pregnant! So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I got it wrong, Gabriel. I messed up. I’ve been punished for it. But part of the punishment is people like Domino suspecting something and not knowing exactly what. I want to tell her what happened, I want to tell her that it’s never going to happen again, and I want your permission to do that.’
Gabriel looked at her anxiously.
‘I don’t want to tell anyone else. Just Domino.’
‘Fine.’
‘And I want ...’ Suddenly the tears spilled from Emma’s eyes. Gabriel watched her but he didn’t touch her. ‘I want you to forgive me.’
‘I thought forgiveness was all theoretical?’
‘Oh shut up, Gabriel,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to forgive me personally. Just, you know, do the confession thing. Absolve me.’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m not a priest.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘All I want is for you to tell me that everything’s going to be all right.’
Gabriel nodded slowly, then took Emma’s hand and squeezed it gently.
‘Of course it’s going to be all right,’ he told her. ‘I promise.’
Chapter 29
Kelly made coffee for herself and Charlie and they drank it outside.
‘I should head off,’ he said as he put his empty cup on the ground. ‘You and your folks need to be together.’
‘There’s nowhere for you to go,’ Kelly told him.
‘Of course there is.’ Charlie grinned. ‘I can head over to Damien Rafter’s place in Drumcondra. It’s only a half-hour’s walk.’
‘I thought this would be such a good night,’ said Kelly. ‘It
was
such a good night until Dad turned up. I was happy that you were here, that you were going to stay.’
was
such a good night until Dad turned up. I was happy that you were here, that you were going to stay.’
‘You all need your space to sort things out,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m in the way.’
Kelly nodded. ‘Call me?’
‘Of course,’ he said.
He kissed her and went inside. He slung the backpack he’d left in the hallway over his shoulder.
‘Call me,’ she said again as he opened the front door.
‘Will do.’
He stepped outside and on to the street. Then he walked away.
Kelly closed the door.
She wondered if he’d bother to call her. After all, he must surely think her family was completely nuts. And he was probably right.
Another thing to blame her dad for.
She heard the bedroom door open and her mother come downstairs.
‘Is everything all right?’ Kelly asked tentatively.
‘Depends on what all right means,’ said Dominique. She went into the kitchen and Kelly followed her. The table and countertops were strewn with empty glasses and disposable plates.
‘I should tidy up.’ Dominique picked up a glass and rinsed it under the tap.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Kelly told her. ‘Where’s Dad? What’s he doing?’
‘Having a shower,’ said Dominique.
‘Huh?’
‘He said he needed to clear his head.’
‘What’s he planning to do?’
Dominique left the kitchen and went into the living room, where she sat down on the sofa and stared at the empty grate.
‘He seems to think that he can just . . . well, he thinks he’s come home and that we can put everything behind us.’
‘He thinks this is home now?’ Kelly, who’d followed her, glanced back towards the untidy kitchen.
‘No, not that. Just that . . . well, that he’s back and we’re together and that’s the way things are going to be.’
‘And are they?’
‘You’re being very mature about all this.’ Dominique didn’t answer her daughter’s question.
‘Not really,’ said Kelly. ‘I’m in a daze, to be honest. But I suppose we always talked about him coming home, and now he has. So I wondered if you’d forgiven him already.’
Dominique sighed. ‘It’s more complicated than that.’
‘You’re a very forgiving person,’ Kelly said.
‘You think?’
‘You forgave me when I wore your Dries Van Noten dress without telling you and spilled red wine down the front.’
‘I think I grounded you for a while after that.’
‘Yes. But you forgave me.’
‘This is rather different.’
‘I’m going to bed.’ Kelly rubbed her eyes. ‘I can’t get my head around everything right now.’
‘OK,’ said Dominique. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ she added, suddenly realising that Kelly’s boyfriend wasn’t there.
‘He thought we needed our own space.’
‘He’s right about that, I guess. He’s a nice boy, Kelly. I like him.’
‘Yeah, he is.’ Kelly got up from the seat beside her mother. ‘Which is why he’ll probably steer clear of me from now on. See you in the morning.’
It was twenty minutes later before Brendan came downstairs again, his hair still damp and tousled from his shower. Dominique had spent the time packing the used glasses into the boxes that Lizzie Horgan had left for her and putting the disposable plates into black plastic refuse sacks. She was tying up the last sack when Brendan walked into the kitchen.
He looked around it, his practised eye taking in the badly chased electrical work on one wall and the damaged skirting below.
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