Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Uncle Gabe,” Sylvie gushes, pulling him inside by the hand. “I’m so glad you came over.”
She hugs him again and it’s then that I notice he’s holding several bags in one hand and can’t really reciprocate. I lunge forward, grabbing the bags from him as he lets his briefcase slide off his shoulder. “Here… let me take those.”
Gabe doesn’t look at me but the way his eyes light up when he’s able to wrap his niece in a hug tells me she’s extremely important to him. She’s not a means to a winery and he’s not acting out of intense guilt. He loves her. It’s that simple.
“I brought you some presents,” Gabe says, and Sylvie pulls back, her eyes sparkling. He nods at the bags in my hand but says, “First, catch me up on how school has been.”
I’m stunned as the two talk, Sylvie having led him over to the couch. I set the bags down on the floor next to them and move into the kitchen to start prepping dinner. Sylvie is going back to the main house to eat with the family but Gabe is staying here to give me a winery 101 lesson. I hadn’t invited him for dinner nor does he have expectations I’ll feed him, but I’m hungry after a long day of working and have more work to do with Gabe after Sylvie leaves. I intend to eat so it’s just as easy to make enough for two.
I listen intently as Gabe asks Sylvie thoughtful questions about her understanding of math concepts, how her opinion writing is progressing—not even sure what that means—and even discusses world events that he’s clearly taught her about in the past. The conversation doesn’t lag and I can see that Sylvie is not only completely comfortable in his presence, she respects him. More than anything, I note that Gabe provides something for her none of us Blackburns can.
Within the ease of Sylvie’s smile and her obvious connection on a familial level, Gabe is healing the wounds that Lionel wrought. He’s validating to his niece that there is good in the Mardraggon blood and conversely, there is nothing bad in her.
Tears prick my eyes at the revelation and I don’t even try to dismiss it as bogus. My brothers, my sister and my parents all have their misgivings about Gabriel Mardraggon but they don’t know that I’ve observed the goodness in him before.
Just as I know inside lurks the potential for harm.
The difference between my experience and Sylvie’s, however, lies in the fact that he loves her probably more than anything in this world. No matter what Gabe and I had, it was never real love, as proven by how easily he abandoned the ideals we were striving for.
As I put together a cold grilled chicken salad, I continue to listen to the interplay between uncle and niece. My ears tune sharp though, when Sylvie says, “I have something important to ask you and I’m nervous about it.”
My hands still on the strips of chicken I’m dicing, my head turning slightly their way. Gabe is on one end of the couch facing her, his arm draped casually over the back. Sylvie is on the middle cushion, head bowed and black hair hiding her face.
“You can tell me anything, squirt. You know that.” Though his words are light and encouraging, I see the distress in his eyes. It clears when she lifts her gaze to him and he smiles at her.
“My birth certificate has Mardraggon as my last name. Originally, it didn’t list my dad as my father. Now it’s been added, but my last name has stayed the same.” Her words trail off and I see where she’s going with this.
Gabe does too and his smile softens with understanding. “You want to change your last name to Blackburn.”
She nods, head ducking again and voice small. “I talked to my dad about it and he said that would not be a problem, but I wanted to let you know.” She takes a deep breath, perhaps garnering courage, and lifts her eyes back to the one person who might be hurt over this. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
Hand lifting from the back of the couch, Gabe tugs playfully on Sylvie’s hair in an attempt to lighten things. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because…” She fumbles for the right words but gets them out in a mad rush, indicating to me that she’s been practicing. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m trying to erase my mom by giving up her last name.”
“Oh, honey,” Gabe murmurs, his hand going to her shoulder for a gentle squeeze. “You couldn’t erase your mother if you tried. I see so much of her in you and that will never change. Mardraggon is just a last name, but I do understand that it’s a name that will never inspire pride or represent love to you, and for that, I’m sorry.”