His face went even colder, and behind his eyes I saw a rage that made me want to take his advice, to get out as fast as I could.
I looked him in the eye. "It was blackmail, wasn't it? She knew you had money. Another of her half-baked schemes. Only this one worked. She did get pregnant."
"Get out. Now."
I rose. "I will. But you--"
"Stop talking," Patrick said.
Gabriel shouldered between us. "Don't tell her--"
"Get out of my house, Olivia, and if you ever invade my privacy again--"
"Do not threaten her," Gabriel cut in, his voice quiet. "If you want to blame someone, blame me for pressing. I asked because I needed to understand, even if I would love to say it doesn't matter and I'm quite over it. I asked, and you refused."
"I--"
"You refused--to protect your ego and your pride. You were conned and assaulted by a teenager. That did not fit the image you wish to project. So you refused the one thing I asked of you. I will not forget that."
Gabriel ushered me through the house and out the front door.
--
Lloergan fell in at my side. We'd walked to Patrick's, leaving Rose's car at her house. I had to nearly jog to keep up with Gabriel's long strides as he headed back there. Lloergan whined and pushed at my hand.
In rejecting the overture, Patrick rejected him. It was a reminder that Patrick had left him with Seanna, turned his back, and then said, "Hey, kid, I helped you with the gargoyles. What more do you want?"
What happened to Patrick was horrible, and if it was possible to hate Seanna more, I did. But Gabriel had nothing to do with that. If the admission was too shameful for Patrick to share, he could have made up a story. She got me drunk and...I guess we had sex.
He refused to answer for exactly the reason Gabriel said. To protect himself. To protect his ego and his reputation.
I would not forget that, either.
IN THE CARDS
It was nearly 5 a.m. and Rose was in her parlor, flipping cards onto the polished wood of her desk. She could say she'd gotten up early, but the ice-cold tea at her elbow told another story. She stared at the cards. With a soft growl of frustration, she gathered them up and reshuffled, as she'd done so often in the last few hours that she could feel the cardboard edges dig in, tender spots forming as her hands begged for a break.
Give me something. Just give me something, damn it.
Finally, the cards obeyed. The four of cups. Reversed. Seanna's card.
Rose reached to turn it upright and stopped herself. She'd done that for so many years. Tried to fix the card. Tried to fix Seanna.
The four of cups was a card of love in all its forms. Reverse the card, and it tells of too much love, too much forgiveness, little of it earned, none of it returned.
Rose did see love in her niece. Seanna was the product of love between her parents. The recipient of love from her family. But did Seanna give love? To anyone? Rose used to say yes, but it was like squinting through a peephole into a shadowy room and telling yourself monsters couldn't possibly lurk in the corners. You saw what you wanted to, and you knew the deception for what it was.
As Rose fingered the deck, she pictured Seanna in her grandparents' home, a rambling Victorian only a few houses from where Liv now lived. Seanna's parents had lived in a smaller house right next door, and they'd taken out the fence so Seanna could come and go between her home and her grandparents'.
No excuse there, Seanna. You had a good life, just as I did. A family who loved you. Adored you.
One could blame the tragedy that killed Seanna's paren
ts--a car crash when she was sixteen. But Seanna had left home a few months before the crash, and her parents died while on yet another endless drive through the city, searching for their lost daughter. Years later, Seanna admitted she'd heard of her parents' deaths and just hadn't bothered showing up for the funeral.
I was busy, okay?
Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Where did we go wrong, Seanna?