Chapter Ten
Gabe flew to Chicago Monday night. He’d received a call from his mother informing him that his mentor, Father Green had been rushed to the hospital over the weekend. He’d contracted a severe case of pneumonia. Gabe’s mother told him things weren’t looking good. Not only did Gabe admire Father Green tremendously, he was the closest thing to a real father Gabe had. He loved the man. So did his little sister. Gabe didn’t hesitate to drop everything and hop on a plane.
It was early morning when Gabe arrived at Chicago’s O’Hare, but he took a cab straight to the hospital. His sister waited for him outside the ICU. Elise seemed so tiny as he approached, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Gabe could tell she’d been crying.
“I’m not too late, am I?” Gabe asked.
“No. He’s actually…he’s a little better. I just hope this isn’t the last hurrah. You know…the calm before the storm. He’s been asking for you.”
“Will they let me in so late?”
“Yeah,” Elise answered. “Lucky for you I have privileges at this hospital.”
Gabe studied his sister for a moment. She appeared puny, the same puny she’d been the first three months of her previous two pregnancies. “You planning on giving me another niece or nephew, Lise?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“To me,” Gabe said. “You always lose weight the first couple months. When’s this one due?”
“November.”
“Mom know yet?”
“Yup.”
“Sis, you are a regular baby-making machine.”
“Well, big brother, somebody has to be since I don’t see any indication that you plan to settle down in the near future. Who’s your current flame? No, wait,” she added. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. She’s tall and blond and buxom.”
Gabe opened his mouth to speak.
“Hold on,” his sister continued, holding up a finger. “She’s Harvard educated. A professional. A lawyer maybe. An investment banker. Just once, can’t you date a woman who’s not something? Can’t you find a nice, normal woman for a change? Do you know how happy Mom would be if you could find someone and settle down?”
Gabe opened his mouth again but he wasn’t entirely certain how to respond. “I’m not dating anyone right now,” he said, feeling self-conscious.
Elise looked skeptical.
“I’m not, Sis. I’m interested in someone but we’re not dating.”
The look of skepticism on his sister’s face was replaced by a look of genuine surprise.
Elise teased him, “Interested, eh? Not dating? A woman who can resist the irresistible Gabriel Abbott? This sounds promising. Who is she?”
Gabe laughed. “A farmer’s daughter from Avoca, Iowa. Her name is Eva Raines. She cooks for me.”
“Oh my God, I like her already. She cooks for you?”
“Yeah, I hired her to cook for me.”
“Because she’s tall, blond and buxom?”
“No Sis, I hired her because her food is out of this world. She can cuss like a truck driver, and she has a deliciously round little ass and the sweetest pink—”
Elise stuck her fingers in her ears. “TMI,” she said, waving her hands, interrupting his description. “So I take it you’ve already bedded her?”
“Quaint,” Gabe responded with a roll of his eyes, “No, I haven’t bedded her.”
“Really? Now this is interesting news. The great lothario, Gabriel Abbott doesn’t jump straight into bed with a woman? What a novel idea.”
“Sis,” replied Gabe, ruffling her hair affectionately, “give me a little credit. I’m not quite that bad.” He suddenly became serious. “I’m going in to see Father Joe. You coming?”
“No. I was with him just an hour ago. I think there’s something he wants to talk to you about. A young man he wants to make sure is taken care of if the worst happens.”
“Lise, what are his chances?”
“Well,” she thought for a moment, equally serious, “as of today, I’d say better than fifty-fifty. That’s a big improvement over yesterday.”
Gabe started for the door.
“Gabe,” his sister called after him. “Be prepared. The past few days have aged him.”
Gabe quietly entered the Intensive Care Unit; it was directly across from the nurse’s station. Gabe stopped in his tracks at his first sight of the sick man.
Father Joe Looked old. He wasn’t. Gabe had never considered sixty to be old. But the illness had turned the vibrant, indefatigable man into a pale husk. Another priest from the school sat by his side, praying. Gabe stood still in the doorway until he finished. The priest nodded at Gabe as he left the cubicle, Gabe took his place at the bedside and knelt down. He took Father Joe’s hand in his.
“Father, it’s me…it’s Gabe. I came to see you as soon as I heard.”
The older man opened his blue eyes. Gabe could see over the oxygen mask covering the priest’s mouth and nose that they remained bright as ever.
“Gabriel,” the man said, speaking with difficulty, “I’m glad you came.” Gabe’s hand was squeezed with surprising strength.
“How did this happen?” Gabe asked. “How did you come down with this? Did you catch something on the flight home?”
The priest waved his free hand, dismissing Gabe’s concern. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “If I live it’s by God’s grace and if I die it’s by God’s grace.”
Gabe ordered himself to speak. “You’re not going to die. After everything you’ve done…all the good you’ve done…all the work you’re still doing. You are not going to die. Christ, Father, without you, I’d probably be in prison. Or dead.”
“Don’t be silly,” Father Green whispered. “You wouldn’t have become a criminal. You’re a bad liar, Gabriel. I could always read you like a book. You would have made a very poor criminal.” The priest began to cough. Gabe reached for a glass of ice water on a nearby table and put a straw to the man’s lips. Gabe noticed that it seemed to take much of the priest’s strength just to sip through the straw.
“Thank you, son. Is Lise still in the waiting room?”
“Yes.”
“She should go home to her family. She’s expecting again, you know.”
“I know. So you have to stick around to do the christening.”
“If it’s God’s will,” the man’s voice was a little stronger, “I’ll be there. Right now, we have more important things to talk about.”
“Anything, Father. I’ll take care of anything you want.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Gabriel. What I have to talk to you about involves your father, Patrick McIntyre.”
Gabe felt himself wince inwardly at the name, a name he hadn’t uttered since he was eighteen years old. He struggled to keep his face neutral. “Are you going to ask me to forgive him, Father? Forgive my father for leaving us to starve? I don’t know if I can, but if you ask me, I’ll try. I swear I will try.”
Gabe saw Father Green smile beneath the mask. “To tell you the truth, Gabriel, I wasn’t planning on asking you that, but since you mention it, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. It might be good for your soul.”
Gabe felt the corners of his mouth twitch and he allowed himself a brief smile in return. “What about my father, then?”
“A young man came to my school two years ago. He’d been in and out of the juvenile justice system for several years before that. His mother is dead. His father abandoned him when he was ten years old. He’s a junior in our high school. He seems to have adjusted and he’s doing quite well, one of the top students in his class.”
“Do you need me to find a place for him?” asked Gabe. “Whatever he needs in terms of financial aid for college, a job, anything, just ask and it’s done.”
“No, Gabe, what he needs is his family. His name is Quincy McIntyre. He’s your brother.”
Gabe could only imagine the look of shock on his face. He felt like he’d just been sucker punched. As if from a great distance, he could feel the priest pat his hand. “It’s all right, Gabriel,” he heard the Father say. “Quincy is a handful, just like you were at that age, but he’s a good boy. He’ll be a good man someday.”
“Does he know?” Gabe asked, surprised his vocal cords worked.
“He knows but he asked that I keep the information confidential. He didn’t want to be, as he put it, anyone’s ‘pity party’. Yesterday he gave me permission to tell you. He didn’t want to be here in the event you rejected him.”
Father Green began to cough again and Gabe helped him to sit up. A nurse appeared in the doorway.
“I think the Father’s had enough visitors for tonight,” she told Gabe, directing him toward the door with a tilt of her head.
Gabe kissed the back of the priest’s hand. The man was as dear to him as his own mother and sister. “Get better,” he pleaded. “You have a lot to do yet.”
Gabe felt the pressure of a hand laid softly on his head. “Talk to Lise,” whispered Father Green hoarsely. “She doesn’t know. Father Murphy can arrange for the two of you to meet Quincy.”
Gabe left the cubicle and waited at the desk for the nurse to return.
“How’s he doing?” he asked when she finally left the priest’s room.
“Are you a family member?” she asked.
“Yes, I am… Gabriel Abbott,” Gabe stated.
The nurse checked the chart. “Yes, sorry, I see your name on the list of approved visitors.” She sighed. “It’s difficult to say exactly how Father Green is doing. The doctors added another antibiotic yesterday and he seems to have improved. But at this point, well, it’s anyone’s guess. Depends upon how tough he is.”
“I guarantee he’s tough. He’s as tough as they come. I’ll make sure he hangs in there,” said Gabe, his voice unequivocal. He would brook no discussion. The man who had stepped into his life when his own father stepped out would survive. Gabe left the ICU to give his sister the news.
* * * *
It was Thursday afternoon and Eva hadn’t heard a word from Gabe. She’d gone ahead and chosen a menu, finished with most of her shopping and started her prep work. Luis had picked out a safe spot beneath the oak trees for the barbecues and her two co-workers, Jose and Byron, had built a brick lined fire pit that could easily be disassembled. They’d piled some big boulders around it to keep the kids from falling in. She’d been in and out of Gabe’s house, arranging and rearranging furniture. She’d rented chairs and tables and scheduled their delivery for Saturday afternoon. She’d hauled in several tin washtubs ready to be filled with ice, to keep the beer, white wine and soft drinks cold. But Gabe hadn’t approved any of it. It was as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth. She’d tried him on his cell a couple times but it had gone straight to voicemail.
Eva wondered if he was deliberately avoiding her calls. Maybe he’d reconsidered their recent encounter. Her cheeks flamed at the thought. She hadn’t reconsidered it; in fact, all she’d done since he walked out her kitchen door was consider it. The enticing, exciting masculine smell of him, the feel of his hard body against hers, the touch of his hand. Jeez, it was difficult to concentrate.
Throwing together the dry rub for the brisket, her mind traveled to visions of other things rubbing together. Whisking the ingredients for her own sweet and spicy barbecue sauce, she imagined drizzling sweet sauces on parts of Gabe’s anatomy. Large parts. And licking them off. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
All right, Eva shook herself, knock it off. I need to make certain I’m giving a paying customer exactly what he wants. She put in a call to Gabe’s assistant. The woman picked up on the second ring.
“This is Marsha.”
“Hi, Ms. Frank, this is Eva Raines, with All Things to All People. I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for this Sunday. The barbecue? I haven’t heard from Mr. Abbott…”
“Oh, yes, Miss Raines, I’m so sorry. It’s been a little crazy here with Mr. Abbott out of town. I completely forgot to call you.”
Gabe had left town? “Oh… do you need to cancel?” Eva asked.
“No, no, it’s fine. Mr. Abbott should be returning either tomorrow or Saturday, I’m not quite sure. There was a sudden illness in his family and he had to fly to Chicago on short notice.”
Gabe’s mother and his sister live in Chicago. “I hope everything is all right,” she replied, concerned for him.
“Yes,” she heard Marsha say. “Yes, as far as I know the situation has improved and as I said, he’ll be home for the weekend. When I spoke with him yesterday, he made a point of reminding me to call you. He told me the barbecue is definitely on. Is everything going well on your end?”
“Yes, it’s fine.” Eva felt more confident now that she understood the reason for Gabe’s absence. “Do you have a body count?”
“Let me double check my list.”
Eva could hear papers rustling.
“Looks like forty-seven. Will that be all right?”
“No problem,” Eva replied.
“So tell me, Miss Raines, what are you cooking up for us? I’d like a little preview because from what I could gather, you made quite an impression on Mr. Abbott.”
Eva nearly choked. She covered the phone and coughed a couple times to clear her throat. She asked, “You want to hear the menu, you mean?”
“Yes, of course,” said Marsha. “What else?”
“Well,” Eva began, clearing thoughts of what else, “I thought we might start out with the usual suspects, guacamole and tortilla chips, but I’m baking the chips…” her voice became more animated. “There’s this great Mexican place a couple blocks from my home and I’ve asked them to bake a fresh batch of flour tortillas for me early Sunday morning. They’ll have them ready by seven a.m. I’m making a very traditional guac, not your typical green goop. This will be hand smashed, not too spicy… I think Gabe, I mean, Mr. Abbott, will like it. The guacamole and chips will be accompanied by a big batch of my homemade fresh tomato salsa with three chilies, and a green garlic, roasted tomatillo salsa.”
“You’ve got me salivating already,” commented Marsha. “Go on.”
“I’m doing a dry spice rub on six large beef briskets, and I’ve ordered twenty pounds of short ribs from the local market. I haven’t decided yet if they’ll be wet or dry, but I think wet. I’m working on my barbecue sauce right now. Do you think Mr. Abbott will have a preference?”
“No honey, I don’t think he cares a lick as long as you keep talking. Has anyone ever mentioned that you have a wonderful telephone voice? I can see why he got pretty excited about your food. Tell me more.”
Eva laughed into the phone. She liked Marsha. “I’m making a whole maple-smoked salmon for the non-meat eaters and I’m tossing together a Cesar salad with a Western twist. I’m baking some green chili-creamed corn buttermilk cornbread… I think you’ll like that. It’s super moist. I hate dry cornbread, don’t you?”
“Yes,” laughed Marsha. “By God, I do hate dry cornbread. What else?”
“I’m using my mom’s recipe for good old-fashioned Iowa farmer’s chop suey, her mustard potato salad and the Raines family’s famous barbecued beans and tamales.”
“Eva, that sounds absolutely yummy, but what on earth is farmer’s chop suey?”
“I guess you have to be from the Midwest to know what it is. You chop up baby spring radishes, the really hot little guys, peel and seed a few cucumbers, slice up young scallions and a little green garlic, toss in the smallest grape tomatoes you can find, and add a tiny bit of fresh parsley. You blend new farmer’s cheese with sour cream, snip in some chives, add salt and pepper and a pinch of sugar and then stir the whole thing together. Growing up, I swear I lived on it the entire summer.”
“Sounds amazing. I can’t wait to try it,” Marsha said. “So tell me, if it’s not a big secret, what’s for dessert?”
“Guess,” replied Eva.
Marsha didn’t hesitate. “S’mores!”
“You obviously went to summer camp,” laughed Eva. “Yes, s’mores, along with frozen whoopee pies filled with a chocolate mint butter cream, and fresh grilled peaches and plums.”
“Oh my God, I can’t wait,” said Marsha. “Talk about making a good impression.”
“A good impression?” asked Eva. “On your staff, you mean?”
“Oh, of course. It’s just that Mr. Abbott mentioned to me he’d invited a woman who, well, that he’d invited someone special. I’m sure she’ll be as impressed with your menu as I am. It all sounds great.”
The air whooshed out of Eva’s lungs. A woman? Someone special? Oh God… I am such a fool. F*cking delusional, she thought. That’s what I am. How could I have deluded myself into believing that a man like Gabriel Abbott would be interested in a nobody like me? “Thanks, Ms. Frank. I’m glad the menu meets with your approval.”
“If I speak with Mr. Abbott, I’ll let him know you’ve got everything under control. Bye.”
Eva sucked in a ragged breath as she clicked off. She forced back a sob. It wouldn’t do to cry in the sauce. Damn. Damn. Damn.