Left to his own devices, Gabriel retrieved a small leather book from his briefcase and went outside to join Richard on the porch.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Richard remarked, closing his crime novel.
“Yes.” Gabriel sat down in the Adirondack chair next to his adoptive father’s.
“What are you reading?”
Gabriel showed him the book, on which the word Journal was embossed on the front in gold lettering. “It’s my mother’s diary.”
The two men exchanged a look.
“I found something in it from Grace.” Gabriel unfolded two pages that had been tucked inside the journal.
Richard gazed on the papers with interest.
“What are they?”
“Names, addresses, and telephone numbers. One is for my father. The other is for Jean Emerson of Staten Island. She’s my grandmother.”
“Is this the first time you’ve seen those pages?” Richard made eye contact with his son.
“Yes. Grace gave me my mother’s things when I was a teenager. But I never looked at them.”
Richard nodded, a look of recollection on his face.
Gabriel peered at Grace’s handwriting. “I’m wondering why she did this.”
“I’m positive we spoke to you about this when you were a teenager. Don’t you remember?”
Gabriel’s attention momentarily fixated on the woods behind the house.
“Only bits and pieces.”
“When your mother died, social services located your grandmother and asked her to take you. She refused. Grace telephoned her, trying to figure out what the problem was. After she spoke to your grandmother, she placed her name and address with your mother’s things, thinking that you might want to contact her one day.”
“I don’t remember Grace telling me that she spoke with my grandmother, just that social services located my relatives and they didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Richard frowned.
“You were only a boy. There was no point in burdening you with everything that happened. I thought that we disclosed the details when you were older.”
Gabriel shook his head.
Richard’s mouth tightened. “I apologize. We should have told you.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You and Grace took me in when my own flesh and blood disowned me.”
“You are our son.” Richard’s voice grew husky. “You have always been our son.”
Gabriel’s hands gripped the journal more tightly.
“Will it—offend you if I try to find out more about my biological parents?”
“Of course not. It’s your heritage and you have a right to know about it.”
“You’re my dad,” Gabriel observed quietly.
“Always,” said Richard. “And no matter what.”
“I put you and Grace at risk. You mortgaged your home to rescue me.”
“A parent’s love isn’t conditional. No matter what you did, you were always our son. I simply prayed that one day you’d come back to us. And you did.”
Gabriel’s knee began to bounce in agitation.
Richard’s gray eyes grew very intense as he watched him.
“We didn’t give birth to you, but you are our son. You belonged with us.”
“What did Grace say to my grandmother?”
Richard sat back in his chair.
“I think she explained who she was and what happened to your mother. I know she talked about you. She hoped she could reason with your family.”
“And could she?”
“No.” Richard appeared grim. “Your grandmother was too blinded by her own morality and her anger with her daughter. She disowned your mother when she became pregnant, and I doubt they saw one another after that.”
“What about my father? Did Grace call him too?”
Richard shifted his weight. “I know we spoke to you about this because it came up in connection with your birth certificate. Your father persuaded your mother not to list him, which is why it only names your mother.”
“So how did Grace find him?”
“Through your grandmother. She wasn’t in a hurry to help her grandson, but she was eager enough to name your father. She had his address and telephone number, which is probably what you have there.” Richard gestured toward the diary. “Grace knew better than to call him at home. She called him at the office. He refused to speak with her.”
“I can recall Grace saying that my father knew where I was but that he wasn’t coming to get me.”
“She hoped your relatives would welcome you, which is why she called them.”
“Grace thought the best of everyone.”
“She did. But she was no fool. After speaking with your grandmother and trying in vain to talk to your father, she let it go. You’ve been with us ever since.” He looked at Gabriel sadly. “Grace expected that she would be here when you found those pages. I know she would have wanted to talk to you about them.”
“I should have looked at them earlier.”
He thought for a moment about the vision he had of Grace and how she’d forgiven him. He still mourned her.
“Julianne is very fond of you.” Gabriel changed the subject, if only to free himself of his painful musings.