Seven Sisters - Earlene Fowler [122]
“Querida,” he said, cupping my shoulders with his warm hands, “what’s wrong?”
“Have you got dinner plans tonight?” I asked.
His face looked chagrined. “No, and I know I’ve been neglecting you.” He looked over my shoulder. “Why did you say you were with that guy again?”
“Yes, you have been,” I said, not answering his question.
“Got a phone call today telling me so. I swear I was coming home to apologize and talk about it tonight.”
I swallowed over the thick, salty lump in my throat. “Who called you?”
“I won’t mention any names, but I really hate it when members of the press are right about something, though it happens so rarely.”
“I know you and Lydia had a lot to discuss these last few days.”
“Yeah, well as my little Arkansas Razorback told me, maybe I was too worried about proving to my ex-wife what a success I turned out to be instead of paying attention to what my wife was going through. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I feel like a fool for not seeing it myself.”
I sighed and touched his cheek. “Forget it, Friday. You’re a fool, but you’re my fool. And I knew whose bed you were coming home to at night.”
“Until the day I die,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “Now, what’s with you and Detective Hudson? Please tell me it was business, not pleasure. Is there something going on with the Norton homicide I need to know about?”
“First, how’s Sam and Bliss?” I asked, not quite ready to begin the story I would tell him. There was one thing I was glad I’d learned from Cappy, that the family secret had not been passed down. Maybe Sam and Bliss still had a chance.
Gabe sighed deeply, his hands slipping down to my shoulders. “Bliss asked for a leave of absence today. She’s going up north with her mother and sister. I have a feeling she’s not going to come back. You know, there’s things in that family that bother me, though I can’t put my finger on them.”
“What about Sam?”
“He says they’re going to take a breather for a while. He doesn’t want to leave San Celina. That’s all he would say. At their age I wouldn’t be surprised if it ended their relationship.”
“I guess only time will tell.”
“I suppose so.” He squeezed my shoulders gently. “Now, tell me why you’re so upset.”
“I need to talk,” I said, feeling as breathless and vulnerable as a child. A mental picture of a seven-year-old girl watching her mother place a pillow over her sisters’ faces caused tears to finally flow.
“You can talk to me. You know you can always talk to me.”
I looked up at this man whose face I’d kissed so many times. This man whose cries of passion were as familiar to me as my own. This man who knew me and loved me and had promised to stay with me until the day he died. This man I trusted like no one else.
“It’s about Cappy. It’s about Giles’s murder.”
“Yes, go on.”
“The thing is,” I said, my voice hesitant, knowing what I was asking might not be possible for him. “Right now I need to talk to my husband. Not a police officer. Not a government employee. My husband.”
Still holding me by the shoulders, he looked at me a long minute. I wouldn’t ask him again. If he couldn’t, I would understand. I would still love him and I would understand.
He slowly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his leather wallet where he carried his badge. He opened the car door and threw it on the floor next to his briefcase, closed and locked the door. Then he held out his hand.
“Let’s walk,” he said.
Berkley Prime Crime Books by Earlene Fowler
THE SADDLEMAKER’S WIFE
The Benni Harper Mysteries
FOOL’S PUZZLE
IRISH CHAIN
KANSAS TROUBLES
GOOSE IN THE POND
DOVE IN THE WINDOW
MARINER’S COMPASS
SEVEN SISTERS
ARKANSAS TRAVELER
STEPS TO THE ALTAR
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
BROKEN DISHES
DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
TUMBLING BLOCKS
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13