Chapter 5 #2
She knew there would be questions she couldn't easily answer, and the weight of responsibility pressed down harder with each passing second.
Images of Zoe's trusting face flashed before her eyes, reminding her what was truly at stake.
Abigail had built their small world on truths she could control, but now, everything threatened to unravel with the force of a single confrontation.
Pulling into the driveway of the graceful Victorian-type home, she sat there studying the familiar lines and curves. She had grown up here and it was a happy home. She could have gone to live elsewhere, find herself a small apartment to call her own.
That had been the original plan after she left college. When she discovered she was pregnant, that had been shelved. Her parents had insisted on her staying at home, and she did not regret the decision.
They had gone out of their way to make space for her and Zoe. They were a family. And he had no right to want to change that.
Shoving the door open, she wrapped her jacket around her.
It had started raining, the icy needle of it cutting through to her skin in minutes.
Reaching the front porch, she came to a stop before opening the front door.
Her mother wasn't back yet, which would give her some time to settle and compose herself.
Heaving out a breath, she pushed the door open and was happy Helen, their longtime housekeeper was obviously retired for the night. Her relief was short lived, however. As soon as she reached the curve of the staircase, her father came out of the study, brown eyes quietly studying her face.
"You're wet."
"And cold." She forced a smile, wondered if she could escape that all-knowing gaze.
"Some tea." Smiling slightly, he crossed over to tuck her arm though his.
"I believe I know how to make a cup of tea."
"Dad, really it's..."
"And you can tell me what had you out in this weather. My other two girls are not home yet." He guided her into the large spotless kitchen and nudged her over to the cozy table tucked beneath a large bay window. Helen ran a clean and tidy house and frowned on anyone doing otherwise.
Putting the kettle on, Peter Blake rooted around in the pantry and plucked out a box of ginger and turmeric. "Just the thing."
He found two cups and placed them on the shiny tiled counter.
"Dad..."
"Not yet." He ordered, shaking his salt and pepper head. Sending her his quiet, patient look, he went to get honey. In silence, they waited until the water was boiling. She watched as he poured the piping hot water over into the cups and brought it over to the table.
Heaping honey, he stirred and handed it to her.
"Careful, it's hot."
She had to smile at that. He had been saying the same thing since she was two. An attack of nostalgia hit her and made her weak. Of them sitting in the kitchen. Him drinking tea and she having hot chocolate. He had never condemned her.
When he discovered she was pregnant, he had given her his support without question. He was as solid as a rock, and she loved him endlessly.
"Oh dad." She whispered, the tears finally falling.
Unperturbed, he pushed aside the steaming cups of tea and pulled his chair closer so he could wrap his arms around her.
Tipping her head to his shoulders, she emptied herself and just nestled against him.
His comfortable scent embraced her, the familiar peppermint and Old Spice he couldn't stop using was an anchor to her.
And she found herself pouring everything out.
*****
The last person he wanted to see was his mother. He had the idea of sneaking in and going upstairs to his suite to brood by the fire.
But she had obviously been looking out for him.
"Darling, look at you!" Clucking her tongue, she hurried forward to wrestle the jacket from him and tossed it with no regard for its value, onto a cherry wood entrance table in the long hallway.
Tucking her hand through his, she led him determinedly into her yellow and white salon where she had a glass of wine residing on a sleek oak table in front of the blue and yellow sofa. A cheerful fire was crackling, sending warmth around the room.
"Your father just went upstairs a few minutes ago." She nudged him over to sit by the fire. Without asking, she poured him a glass of brandy and brought it over.
He hesitated, feeling the heaviness in his chest, but the familiar setting and his mother's gentle insistence made it impossible to refuse.
The firelight flickered across the room, casting soft shadows, and for a moment he let himself sink into the comfort of home.
The aroma of his mother's perfume mingled with the scent of burning wood, both achingly familiar and soothing.
"I missed the meeting." He murmured.
"For good reason, I'm sure." She studied his face and saw what he had been hoping to hide.
"What's wrong?"
Taking a sip of the brandy, he felt it coursing its warmth through him.
"I had a one-night stand five years ago." He felt the shame of admitting something like that to her, for the first time. "I... I met someone at a party and I..." he cleared his throat and felt the burning in his chest. "Mother, I got her pregnant. I just discovered I have a daughter."
His mother's eyes widened, her expression shifting swiftly from surprise to concern. For a moment, she was silent, absorbing the weight of his confession. Then, reaching out, she placed her hand gently on his arm, her voice soft but unwavering.
"Oh, my darling," she said, "when did you discover this?" Her words were neither accusatory nor shocked, only full of compassion and the unmistakable instinct to comfort.
"Just today." Even the memory of how he came to that discovery was enough to make him angry all over again. "She kept it from me. I hurt her back then and she decided that I had no right to be that little girl's father."
"Are you sure..."
"Without a doubt." Putting his glass down, he pulled out his phone. While Zoe was standing by the table, he had snapped several pictures with his phone. One was of her laughing and jumping up and down. In the background, he had also caught rows of books. "See for yourself." He handed her the phone.
Eloise touched the screen and felt a jolt straight to her heart as she stared at the beautiful child. She wasn't surprised to feel the tears clouding her eyes. It was like looking at Kincaid or Katherine. Except for the difference in the hair texture, the little girl was the spitting image of them.
She was a Tyrell, without question. She had a granddaughter. The magnitude of it had her pressing a hand to her wildly beating heart.
"Where is she? And when can we see her?"
He had to smile. No questions or recrimination, just pure and simple acceptance. He loved that about her.
He leaned back, a wave of relief washing over him at her reaction.
"I don't know yet. Everything feels so uncertain.
I haven't even figured out what to say, or how to step into her life without causing more pain.
" He looked at his mother, searching her face for guidance.
"I'm scared, Mom. I want to do right by her, but I have no idea how. "
"First things first." She patted his hand briskly as she continued to stare at the clear photos. First chance, she was going to have them printed and framed. "We have to tell the rest of the family." She looked up at him. "Who's the mother?"
When he told her the name, her brows lifted in surprise. "I know her, know the family and also know that they're very respectable. She wants to keep my granddaughter away from you?"
He nodded. "She never intended for me to know." A fresh wave of anger had him almost choking. "I gave her an ultimatum."
Eloise gripped his hand. "Was that necessary? You want her cooperation, not have her backed into a corner and giving her the opportunity to strike back. The fact remains that you left her..."
"We weren't in a relationship." He reminded her tightly.
"And she might not have agreed with you there.
You're my son and I love you dearly, but the way you lived your life before was very questionable.
Your father and I never said anything about your lifestyle because as long as you were not hurting anyone, it was fine.
But you obviously caused hurt and pain, not just.. ." her voice petered off.
"Say it please." His face looked like it was carved from stone, and she felt a flash of grief for his torment.
"I screwed up royally and I did it more than once.
" He rose and walked over to the mantle.
"I know all of that," he turned to face her.
"Abigail told me some hard truths to try and get me to back down.
It did not work. I want my daughter. I have a right to her. "
"If you can come to some sort of middle ground..."
"She's refusing to even think of that. I've given her two days to tell Zoe the news and then I'm acting."