“And now this. This hasn't been much of a year for you, Gabbie, has it?” It hadn't been much of a life for her before that either, parents who beat her, abandoned her in a convent, and a man who committed suicide rather than stand by her and her baby. It was a lot to live with. He was amazed that she had survived it.

“This was different,” she said about Steve. “In a funny way, it was more straightforward. I felt used by him, and betrayed, and it hurt terribly when I first found out, but I don't think I ever really loved him. I was just in a very awkward situation. Looking back, I realize he set me up right from the beginning.”

“You were easy prey for him,” Peter said sensibly, looking at her, appreciating who she was and what she had been through. “I hope he gets a hell of a long sentence.” He was relieved to know that the police seemed to think that was more than likely. “What are you going to do now?” he asked her, thinking about her.

“I don't know… write… work… start over… be smarter… I had a lot to learn when I came out of the convent. I had never been out in the world before, it's such an unreal life in there, so sheltered and protected. I think that's what frightened Joe. He didn't know how to survive without that.” But as far as Peter was concerned, suicide was not an option. Joe had left her alone to face the music herself, and be blamed for his death. It was only a solution for a weak, selfish man, and Peter didn't admire him for it, though he said nothing to Gabbie.

“You need time to heal,” he said quietly, “not just from this. But from all of it. You've already been through ten lifetimes,” and none of them had been easy.

“Writing does that for me. It's been wonderful for me. The professor I told you about really helped me, he opened doors for me I never knew were there, into my heart and my mind, into the places I need to speak from, especially for my writing.”

“I'm not sure someone else can do that for you. I think it's within you, Gabbie, and probably always was. Maybe he just showed you where the key was.”

“Maybe,” she said, and a few minutes later one of the nurses came in. A four-year-old had been in a car accident without a seat belt.

“Oh God, I hate these,” he said, looking at her longingly. He would have liked to talk to her forever. He left her and told her he would see her in the morning.

And after he left, she lay in bed, thinking about him, surprised at the things she had told him. He knew it all now. And he had been so easy to talk to.

He came by later that night, and glanced into her room, and she was fast asleep. He stood looking at her for a long time, and then went back to the supply room to lie on the gurney. But the things she had told him kept him from sleeping. He wondered how any one human being could endure so much pain and disappointment, and why they would ever have to. It was a question she had often asked herself, and to which neither of them had an answer.





Chapter 24




THE WEEKS OF her recovery seemed long to both of them, but both Gabbie and Peter enjoyed the time they spent talking to each other. She needed therapy for her arm, and the ribs took a long time to heal, as did some of her head wounds, but at the end of four weeks, he could no longer find an excuse to keep her. She was almost healthy. And on her last morning in the hospital, Peter came to see her, and brought her flowers and told her how much he was going to miss her. In fact, there was something he had been meaning to ask her, but it had taken him a long time to get up his courage. He had never done anything like this before, and it was awkward for him while she was there, because she was one of his patients. But once she left, he was no longer under any restrictions about seeing her.

“I was wondering,” he said awkwardly, feeling very young suddenly and more than a little stupid, “how would you feel about… if you… if we could have dinner sometime… or lunch… or coffee…” His own apartment was not very far from her in the East Eighties.

“I'd like that,” she said cautiously, but she had been thinking a great deal, and there was something she knew she needed to do first, for her own sake. And when she saw he was bothered by her hesitation, she tried to tell him about it. “I'm going to try to find my parents.”

“Why?” After all she'd told him, he didn't want her seeing them, and he had an overwhelming urge to protect her from them. She was much more beautiful than he had imagined she would be at first, but also far more delicate, and in some ways very fragile. There was a strength about her that carried her on, but a vulnerability at the same time that had come to frighten him for her. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” he asked, looking worried.

“Maybe not.” She smiled at him, braver than most, and much more so than he thought she should be. But that was part of what he loved about her. She was willing to stand up and be counted, to stick her chin out for everything she stood for. But so far, it had cost her a lot of blows that had nearly killed her. And Peter knew better than anyone that she needed someone to protect her. He suspected he knew it even better than she did. He was twelve years older than she was, and wise in the ways of the world, and he understood now what she needed, and wanted to see if he could give it to her. He had made mistakes of his own in his life, and he had failed in his own marriage, but he had learned a lot from it, and he wanted to be someone better than he had been, to Gabbie. “I just know I have to do this, Peter,” she explained to him, wanting to see her parents. “If I don't, if I never get the answers from them, there will always be a piece of me missing.”

“Maybe it's already there, Gabbie. Maybe it's already a part of you. It could be that the answers are within you, and not from them.” He wasn't certain either, but he didn't want them hurting her, not again. All of that was behind her now, and she had so much to live for. But she knew that. He had come to mean a great deal to her too. And part of wanting him was wanting to be whole for him, and not a half person living in the past, and wondering why they had never loved her.

“I have to do it.” She had already decided to call Mother Gregoria and see what information she was willing to give her. But Gabbie knew even that would be painful. If the nun refused to speak to her it would remind her again of how much she had lost when she left the convent. They had never spoken since the day the door had closed behind her, and Gabriella knew she wasn't supposed to call her. But now she felt she had to, and she thought Mother Gregoria would understand that.

Peter was planning to be on duty for the next two days, and he was worried about her. He told her he'd call her that evening. And when he did, she was happy to hear from him. She admitted that she was tired, and getting up the stairs to her room had been difficult, and she realized when she saw it again, that the room itself seemed filled with memories of Steve, and she didn't want to be there. A few things had changed in the last month. The professor's room had been rented and the books he had left Gabbie were in boxes in the basement. Steve's room had also been rented.

She said that Mrs. Boslicki had been very good to her, and had brought her dinner. He hated thinking of her there, and now suddenly all he wanted was to be with her. After the ease of seeing her in the hospital every day, it seemed so odd now to be away from her But she was still keeping a little distance between them. She wanted to pursue her past now, and she was not yet ready for her future.

She slept fitfully that night, thinking of the calls she had to make, and worrying about them. And as soon as she woke up, the next day, she called Mother Gregoria, and when she asked for her and gave her name, she was afraid they would tell her she couldn't speak to her. There was a long wait and the voice of the nun who answered the phone wasn't one Gabbie remembered. And then finally, she said she'd put the call through. There was a brief ring, and then suddenly Gabriella heard her. And it brought tears to her eyes the moment she heard the voice she had loved and missed for so many months.

“Are you all right, Gabbie?” Mother Gregoria had read the article in the newspaper, and it had taken all her strength to follow her own vows of obedience and not call her. But she had called the hospital until she was reassured that Gabbie had come out of the coma.

“I'm fine, Mother. A little battered and bruised, but no worse than “I'm used to,” she said softly, but they both knew it had been a lot worse. And then Gabriella explained why she was calling. She wanted to know the last addresses Mother Gregoria had had for her parents. The Mother Superior hesitated for a long time, she knew she was not supposed to give them to her, it had been her mother's request. But they hadn't heard from her mother in five years now, and in truth Mother Gregoria saw no real harm in it. If anything, it might be helpful to Gabbie to contact her. She understood perfectly why Gabbie wanted it. And she gave her her mother's last San Francisco address from five years before, and an address in the East Seventies for her father.

“In New York?” Gabbie sounded startled when she heard it. “He's here? I never knew that.”

“He only stayed in Boston a few months, Gabbie. He's always been here.”

“Then why didn't he come to see me?”

“I don't know the answer to that question,” the old nun said softly, although she had her own suspicions.

“Did he ever call you?”

“Never. But your mother gave me his address in case I ever needed it, if something ever happened to her. But we never needed to call him.”