“Do not walk away while I am speaking,” Gabriel said quietly.
Her gaze dropped briefly to his hand before lifting back to his face. “Then perhaps you should say something worth hearing.”
The response should have irritated him.
Instead, it almost impressed him.
Challenging woman, indeed.
“You think I am unreasonable,” Gabriel said, releasing her wrist but remaining where he was. “Perhaps I am. But betrayal always comes from the person one least expects. That is the cruel irony of betrayal. No one ever sees it coming.”
The words left his mouth before he intended them to.
Immediately, old memories stirred.
My father’s failures. His dangerous aggressions. The people who should have protected those they loved had not. Then Benedict’s wife. Another wound. Another absence. Another person who should not have been given access to those who should be loved, not harmed.
Gabriel looked away, annoyed by the direction of his thoughts.
For a moment, Amelia said nothing. Then her voice softened.
“Does this mean you intend to dismiss me?” she asked, her voice small and helpless.
Gabriel turned back towards her. “No.”
Something eased in her expression. “So I am banned from the kitchen?” she asked. “Because I found it rather useful.”
Gabriel frowned. “Useful?”
“Yes.” Amelia uncrossed her arms and gestured lightly with one hand. “I realized something about David.”
Gabriel immediately paid attention. “What?”
Amelia hesitated before answering. “I do not think he will learn from someone he does not feel safe with.”
The word struck him unexpectedly.
Safe.
His thoughts immediately returned to David’s scar.
To the nightmares. To the fear the boy still carried despite everyone’s efforts. To David’s vile mother—the one woman who was supposed to make him feel safe and had failed miserably.
As Amelia continued speaking, Gabriel found himself studying her more closely than intended. His gaze flickered briefly downward before returning to her eyes, though the brief glimpse of her pink lips only left him oddly distracted and more confused than before.
“How does cooking make him feel safe?” he asked.
Amelia brightened slightly, clearly pleased to be discussing something other than dismissal.
“Because it allows him to follow instructions without pressure,” she explained. “When we make custard, I tell him what to do, but the task is enjoyable. He associates being guided with something pleasant rather than something oppressive.”
Gabriel listened carefully.
Amelia continued, growing more animated. “If he becomes accustomed to listening to me while enjoying himself, then eventually lessons will feel natural. He will trust me. Once he trusts me, he will listen on matters of letters and numbers.”
Gabriel turned away and began pacing. The explanation was surprisingly logical.
More logical than I want it to be.
