Five years later

Twelve-year-old Sara Quade woke up to find her dad all dressed up and obviously not going to work. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"My dad died," Jack explained. "It's his funeral."

Sara made a face. "You mean the mean grandpa?"

Jack stifled the urge to laugh. Sara's assessment was spot on, but even Ned Quade deserved to be spoken about with respect on the day of his funeral. "Yeah, him," he said. When Jack and Gabrielle had adopted Sara shortly after their marriage three years ago, Ned had barely acknowledged her as his legal grandchild, and only then because neither of his other two sons had any children. But when little Ben was born, followed by the twins Katherine and Rebecca, Ned had taken to referring to Sara as Jack's niece, openly arguing that since she was biologically the daughter of Gabrielle's sister, that made her his niece. The first Christmas after Ben's birth had been a nightmare; Ned had doted on Ben and completely ignored Sara. From then on, Jack had had very little to do with his father, and never let Ned have contact with his grandchildren – adopted or biological. Jack suspected his step-mother Stella was behind the animosity. But then, Ned was the kind of man who would take a biological grandson over an adopted granddaughter any day.

"Fix your breakfast, princess," he said. "And I'll be home when you get home from school." He kissed his daughter goodbye and left.

Stella was already drunk, even though it was only ten in the morning. If Jack hadn't known that was frequent – almost daily – behaviour for her, he might have understood. It wasn't every day a person buried their spouse of over almost forty years.

She had once been a beauty, but time and alcohol had reduce her looks to mush. When she saw him, she glowered at him. She had never forgiven him for his father's infidelities. Jack had stopped caring a while ago. He had even stopped taking a perverted delight in sending her and his father his annual tax returns, to remind them that he made more than Ned and both his brothers combined – especially after he had gotten his fellowship and, following Frank's retirement a year ago, Charlotte had become head of the department and he had become her 2IC. He suspected he'd had a much easier job than she'd had as Frank's 2IC.

"Nice of you to show up," Stella said with as much icy dignity as she could manage in her condition, which wasn't a lot. "Did you get my message?"

"The one where you could have taught my children an interesting new vocabulary had I not intercepted it?" Jack asked amiably. He was not going to fight with Stella. In fact, he pitied her too much to bother fighting with her. It had taken his marriage and Sara's adoption for Jack to realise how much she had missed out on – a spouse who loved her madly and whose sole infidelities consisted of drooling over Jude Law, children whom her and her spouse doted on and adored her in return, a sense of peace and happiness that few people ever get to enjoy. At thirty, he had found true peace and love in his life. At thirty-three, he was the happiest person he knew, apart from Gabrielle. Certainly happier than this drunken wreck standing in front of him. "I wrote you a cheque." Stella had left a drunk message on his answering machine asking for money to pay for the cost of the funeral. He and his father had barely spoken in the last few years, but a sense of honour dictated that he still help out with the costs. After all, it was only money – something Stella had never grasped.

She took the cheque and eyed it greedily. It was more than she had asked for, although she still bet it was far less than he could part with without even noticing it. If she had hated him for his father's infidelities when he had been a child, she hated him even more as an adult because he was so much more successful than either of her sons – both professionally and personally. His children were adorable, including Sara. And his wife was always looking at him like he was a god or something. "How's your niece?" she asked spitefully, because she knew how much it irritated him that people didn't consider Sara as much 'his' as Ben and the twins.

"When either my sister or brother-in-law have children, I'll let you know," he said amiably. He was not going to let Stella get under his skin, not now that he never had to see her again after today. Besides, he thought, laughing inwardly, Stella had never understood that some people were capable of loving children that weren't biologically their own.

He got through the funeral with a minimum of fuss. He had never been a part of his father's life the way his two older brothers had been, so he had never known his father's family and friends the way they had. He knew some of them were whispering about how stuck-up he was, too good for his working class origins. Let them talk; he was happy. His brothers made their typical snide comments about his snobbishness, his children, his being too good for the people who raised him, which Jack let slide, thinking that he would never have to see them again. Both his brothers had married, and they both slept around – his oldest brother bragged about it. Their consciouslessness had once sickened him, but now he just felt sorry for them. They didn't respect their wives, they didn't respect themselves. He realised now that there had always been a part of him terrified of turning out like the people who had abused and neglected him; Gabrielle had helped him understand that he had too much class, too much honour, too much heart to ever be like that. In a way he was better than them, but not in the ways they thought.

He made his excuses as soon as he could, his obligations fulfilled. He got home to see Gabrielle fixing sandwiches for them. "Figured you wouldn't stay any longer than you had to," she said with a smile that she reserved only for him. "How was it?"

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck. "Stella was drunk and made some snide remark about Sara and my brothers were looking to screw any woman who wasn't their wife – another day in the Quade family," he said.

"Well, you never have to see them again," she reminded him. As if he wasn't already gleefully aware of the fact. "God, I can't believe she was still such a bitch after you put so much towards the funeral."

"Yeah, and I reckon she did it as cheaply as possible and pocketed the rest," Jack added. "But I feel sorry for her more than anything else. She's never had what we have, and I think she hates me even more than when I was a kid because of it." He nuzzled her neck which was an unspoken command for her to twist her head so he could kiss her properly. Their lips met, and they kissed with a passion that hadn't been dimmed after five years. "I can't believe how into you I still am," he murmured, playing with her hair the way he liked to.

"I should hope so," she said gaily. Jack responded by spinning her around, grabbing her hips and sitting her on the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they started kissing again. "Jack!" she admonished him when he started unbuttoning her shirt, although she was by now well aware of the fact that he liked plenty of sex and he liked plenty of variety in his sex life. He'd taught her a lot in five years – actually, he'd taught her a lot in less than one year – and she was surprised to discover how much she enjoyed sex. Enjoyed it? No, loved it.

"What, you don't want me to be hot for you?" he asked huskily.

"Of course I do."

"Then be quiet."

"You really want me to be quiet?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Just let me make love to you and stop quibbling with words, Mrs. Quade."

She arched her back when he slipped his hands under her shirt. She steadied herself with her hands on the counter and passively enjoyed it as Jack felt her up. "My pleasure, Doctor Quade," she said, thinking that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And it might never have happened, they might have gone on for the rest of their lives not realising their feelings for each other, had she not forced him to go to the farm with her.