that the meal was good even though she wasn’t a big fan of pizza. Suddenly the room grew quiet. Rebecca looked up and saw the waitress bringing out a big cake with ten candles lit on it.
Gabriel started singing the happy birthday song, and all the boys followed. When they got to the name, they shouted Peter’s, and Rebecca thought she would cry. Tears welled into her tight throat as she watched her eldest son struggle to keep his emotions under control. He was speechless when the woman placed the huge cake with his name on it in front of him. He looked at Rebecca with a question in his eyes. She shook her head and shrugged.
“Guess it’s time to give you Josh back,” Gabriel said, and transferred her youngest to her arms.
Gabriel rose before she could question him about the cake.
“Peter, when the team found out it was your birthday tomorrow, they wanted to show you their appreciation for joining us with this little celebration. The fact we won tonight makes this party even sweeter.” Gabriel moved to the counter and retrieved a package. “This is for you from us.” He handed Peter a large, long gift, wrapped in blue paper with a baseball motif on it.
Stunned, Peter took the gift and held it.
“Open it!” The chant filled the restaurant.
Peter tore into the package. When he lifted the leather baseball glove and bat for everyone to see, Rebecca wiped the tears coursing down her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her grandmother gave her a handkerchief that smelled of roses, Granny’s special fragrance.
“Isn’t that sweet,” Rose whispered to Rebecca. “I bet Gabriel was behind this.”
Rebecca knew he was. He was determined to show her son he was a part of the team.
“Speech!” The new chant came from the thirteen boys sitting around Peter.
Peter opened his mouth then clamped it closed, a stunned expression on his face.
“I think he’s speechless,” David said.
Peter mumbled his thanks while cradling his two gifts to his chest.
Gabriel sat again. Rebecca reached over and took his hand, squeezing it. “Thank you.” She couldn’t say another word. A huge lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.
He laid his hand over hers. “Anytime. A lot has happened to him this past year. I just wanted him to know he was special to us.”
“Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I want a piece of that cake. If I know Gabriel, it’s chocolate on the inside and from the bakery at the supermarket. They bake the best cakes in town. To die for.” Alicia moved to the boys’ table to take charge of cutting the cake and handing out slices.
“I’m afraid the cake I baked is gonna look puny next to that monster.” Rebecca reluctantly withdrew her hand from Gabriel and immediately felt bereaved.
“Yours doesn’t have to feed a score of people. I do have to admit I went overboard when I ordered it. There may be some leftovers.”
“Some? Try half.” Rose took the piece passed to her and started eating.
“That’s our police chief. He never does anything halfway,” the reverend said, and popped a forkful of cake into his mouth. “Mmm. This frosting is wonderful. Melts in your mouth.” He ran his tongue over his upper lip. “Remember the time you chased those robbers into the next county?”
“I got my men.”
“Yeah, but you nearly caused a wreck out on the highway.”
Gabriel paled. “Oh, please don’t remind me of that folly. Occasionally I see red when someone takes what isn’t theirs.”
“One of your pet peeves.” The reverend ate another bite.
“I’m trying to practice restraint. It just doesn’t always work.”
“We all have our faults. The Lord didn’t make us perfect.” Samuel paused, then said, “Speaking of not being perfect, George is getting out of prison soon.”
Gabriel stiffened, all color gone from his face. His hand shook as he placed his fork beside his plate. “I know.”
“You have to forgive him sometime, Gabriel.”
“No, I don’t.” Gabriel rose. The sound of his chair scraping across the wooden floor permeated the silence that hung at the table of adults. “If you’ll excuse me—” He pivoted and left the restaurant.
“Who’s George?” Rebecca asked, aware of the strain at the table.
“The man who drove the car that killed Gabriel’s wife and son. He was drunk.” Samuel Carson looked at the door Gabriel had disappeared through. “I should go talk to him. This wasn’t the right time to bring that subject up, but I thought being among friends would lessen the pain.”
Alicia patted her husband’s hand. “Let Gabriel have some time alone before you approach him.”
Rebecca’s heart broke. She wanted to go to Gabriel and ease his pain, as he had hers these past few weeks. But she didn’t have a right to, and she realized she wished she did.
Gabriel drove his fist into the punching bag hanging on his back porch. Again and again he hit the imagined face of the man who had robbed him of his future. Sweat poured off him, clinging to his T-shirt and shorts, but still he worked out his anger and frustration until exhaustion made it impossible for him to lift his arms.
He sank to the porch floor, rid himself of his gloves, then buried his face in his hands. He could still see the wrecked car with Judy inside. She had died on the way to the hospital. The doctors had done an emergency C-section to try to save his son, born two months too early.
George McCall was responsible. Gabriel wished he could rid himself of his hatred toward the man as easily as he had his boxing gloves. He couldn’t, and he felt as though he had let God down. He had tried. The anger was still embedded deep in his heart, and he wanted the man to remain behind bars. Judy and their unborn child had been Gabriel’s life. He went through the motions of living, but he knew something had died in him that day along with his wife and son.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.” Gabriel murmured the Lord’s Prayer. It should be a guide to him in his forgiveness of the man who had killed his wife and child. “Please, dear Lord, give me the strength to do what I must.”
“Mom! It’s after seven,” Peter called from the living room.
Rebecca cleaned Josh’s face after more of his breakfast ended up on him than in him. She placed him in his swing and went into the living room. “It’s only fifteen minutes after seven. Your dad lives several hours away. He’s just late. Relax, Peter. Watch some TV until he comes.”
Peter gave her a look that said she must be crazy, which might be true. She didn’t like him to watch much television, and here she was encouraging him to.
“I
