“Gabriel… he was important to me,” Julia replied softly, unable to look Margarete in the eye.
“Important?” Margarete repeated, louder. “My son died almost two years ago, and I never saw you at the funeral. I’ve never heard of anyone named Julia. Who do you think you are, coming here and pretending to be related to her?”
The accusation hit her like a slap in the face. Julia felt tears welling up in her eyes, but this time she didn’t try to hide them.
“I didn’t go to the funeral because you made it clear to me that I was not welcome in your son’s life,” she replied in a shaky but surprisingly firm voice. “You personally made sure I disappeared, and you did.”
Margaret’s face turned pale. There was something in the young woman’s voice, a genuine pain that could not be feigned.
And those eyes… for a moment he felt like he recognized something familiar in that face.
“What are you talking about?” Margarete asked, but the original arrogance had disappeared from her voice.
“Gabrielle and I met a few years ago,” Julia began, sitting down on a nearby bench, her legs giving out. The child curled up in her lap, her finger in her mouth.
“He volunteered in the community where I lived. I studied at night and worked in the laundry during the day. Gabriel was like no other person I had ever met.”
Margaret felt her heart sink. Gabriel was actually volunteering, which she had always considered a waste of time.
“You should focus on family matters,” he told him. But his son insisted: he wanted to help those who really needed it.
“Continue!” Margarete ordered, sitting down on the bench one by one, but keeping a certain distance.
To see the full cooking times, turn to the next page or click the Open (>) button and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
