by Jodi Thomas
“I don’t usually eat sweets,” she protested.
“Me either. I don’t know how to cook them and what you buy in the grocery store tastes like cardboard.”
She laughed. “You’re right.”
He attacked his food. Between bites, he asked, “Where’d you learn to cook like this, Mrs. Biggs?”
“My second husband owned a bakery. He was a strong man who worked ten-hour days, six days a week, until the day he died last month. It was midmorning and he was lifting a wedding cake we were already late delivering. He yelled for me to go start the van, and then he stopped, set the cake on the counter, and fell over. His last words to me in the ambulance were to make sure one of the employees delivered that cake. He said, ‘We can’t afford to lose business.’ ”
“That why you were crying?” Gabe was sorry he’d asked once the words were out of his mouth. It wasn’t his way to pry. “Losing a husband must be hard.”
“No.” She sat her fork down. “I do miss his company. We were together for almost twenty years, but would you think it terrible if I said I never loved him? We just worked together, occupied the same quarters at night, but I’m not sure we were ever close enough to even call one another friend.”
Gabe could feel her loss. Not of her husband, but of what might have been and never was.
“Did you two ever have children?” Gabe thought maybe that was the reason they married if it wasn’t for love. Twenty years ago she would have been in her early forties and maybe still in her childbearing years.
“No, not together. He was eight years older than me. Fifty-four when we married. He had two sons that I didn’t meet until after his funeral. They inherited everything. He’d never changed his will to include me, you see. A lawyer said I could have fought the will and won a share, but the bakery, or our apartment above it, had never felt like mine. I packed the same suitcase I arrived carrying and walked away from that life without a backward glance or a memory worth taking.”
They sat for a while, watching the snow. Gabe finished his meal and poured them both more coffee. He had the feeling that Mrs. Biggs and he were very much alike. Sometimes the only time a quiet person talks is around another quiet person.
Finally, she spoke, more to herself than to him. “I was crying earlier because I wanted to go to the cemetery today. I wanted to sit by my son who died ten years ago and I didn’t even know.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabe said for lack of anything else to say.
“Until last month I thought he was still alive. When his father died, my only son blamed me for not insisting his dad go to the hospital. He swore he’d never take my call if I tried to contact him. He was grown, and turning on me was maybe the only way he could handle his dad’s death. Brice grew up to be as stubborn as his father. Only my son didn’t have the gentleness in him that took the edge off my husband.”
She blew her nose on her paper napkin. “When I left the bakery I thought I’d stop by just to see Brice, but I couldn’t find a number for him. I called a policeman who always came in for blueberry cake donuts at the bakery and told him my problem. He did some checking and found out my son had died over ten years ago in a bar fight. The obituary listed no next of kin, so he never married or had children. I didn’t know if I was sad or happy about that. I don’t like to think that he was all alone. So, I thought I’d still come and set with him awhile. I like to remember how he was as a little kid, not the cold young man who promised he’d never speak to me.”
Gabe looked out the window, thinking Brice Biggs must have been a real bum to toss away a mother like this. His own mother had died before he was five, and Gabe often swore his father blamed him for her death instead of the cancer.
Looking over at Mrs. Biggs, he knew what she was thinking. “Not much chance of leaving this house today.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I left Harmony just after my first husband died, running away from the heartache of losing him and having my only child turn his back on me at the same time. But the pain never left me, not all those twenty years of working and living with a man who always talked about his sons, but never once asked about my boy.
“Finally, I decided I’d come back home and do what I’d wanted to do for twenty years. I wanted to talk to my boy, but he was resting beside his father. I plan to spend the rest of my days grieving and when I die, I want to be buried next to them.”
Gabe patted her hand. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, thinking the last thing he wanted was to be buried in the Leary plot.
They heard the front door open and close, and both knew their time together had ended. With a single nod, they agreed to a pact of silence. They sat, listening to someone in the hallway. When the sheriff appeared a few minutes later, neither of them looked surprised.
Mrs. Biggs stood and offered Alex coffee. Gabe thought about trying to disappear, but he had a feeling the sheriff was here to see him and there was no getting around her. The sheriff was a pretty lady, tall and built like a runner, but she had a hardness about her that told him the only way to deal with her was straight on.
“You drive here?” he asked.
“No,” she said as she cradled the hot coffee mug with both hands. “I walked over along the creek bed. It wasn’t all that far, first to the diner and then another dozen houses to here.”
“Cold, though,” he said as if he were just finishing his coffee and not waiting for her to get to the point.
“I found your takeout meal. The one Reagan must have dropped when she fell.”
Gabe watched her. “You’re still not convinced I wasn’t attacking the girl. You figure maybe I knocked her in the head out by the creek bed and dragged her back in the diner to finish her off, or maybe I was planning to rape her and didn’t fancy doing it out in the cold.”
Alex shook her head. “No. I know you and she had to be telling the truth, but something doesn’t fit.”
“About last night?”
“No, about you.” She stared at him as if waiting for him to blink. “How could you be living three miles from town and I don’t know you? Edith knew you. Reagan and her uncle knew you. Even Liz Matheson knew you, but somehow you were not on my radar.” She leaned closer, still staring, and added, “It seems to me you might make a habit of being invisible to the law, and people who do that are usually hiding.”
When he still didn’t answer, she continued, “Something about you doesn’t make sense. How’d you know what to do to keep Reagan alive? Why do you carry a gun? Who are you, Gabriel Leary?”
“I’m nobody,” he answered. “Just someone who likes to live alone and not bother people. As soon as this storm blows over, I’ll go back home and you can forget you know me. Everything will be back to normal.”
She frowned. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Mind if I don’t bother to answer?” he countered. “If you want to interrogate me, read me my rights and I’ll go wake up my lawyer.”
Alex felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Most people in this town would tell you their life story fifteen minutes after you met them, but this man had something to hide. She’d bet her badge on it. Problem was, he was a hero, not a suspect. She had no right to push, and she had a feeling she’d have to push hard to learn anything he didn’t want her to know.
She tried another door. “Someone told me when I asked where you were that I was the second person who wanted to know this morning. Dispatch said a call came in from Oklahoma City looking for you. When I checked, I learned some man had called all over town trying to locate you.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow. She finally had his attention.
“You wouldn’t have any idea who that man was, would you? We traced the call to a phone booth just outside of town. You happen to have relatives, Mr. Leary? Someone who panicked when you didn’t call in or answer a phone? Someone who took the time to check the hotels in town?”
“No idea,” he answered. “Didn’t he give a name? What time did he call?”
She smiled. “You want any answers, maybe you should wake up your lawyer.”
Liz stumbled in wearing one of Martha Q’s dead husband’s shirts and a pair of men’s socks that went up past her knees. “Coffee,” she mumbled like a dying man. “Coffee.”
Leary grinned. “My lawyer.”
Mrs. Biggs poured her a cup. Gabe offered his knee for her to sit on, and the sheriff stared.
Liz downed a long gulp before forcing her eyes open enough to notice anyone else in the room. “Morning, Alex,” she said simply, as if sitting on a client’s knee while wearing nothing but a shirt was totally normal. “You come alone, or is my brother with you?”
“Morning, Liz. I’m alone. I don’t think your brother even knows where you are.” Alex turned her gaze to Gabe, leaving no doubt that she’d just added one more question to her list that he hadn’t answered.
Mrs. Biggs offered both women breakfast. Both declined.
“I was just leaving.” Alex stood and looked at her future sister-in-law. “You want me to send your brother over in a truck to get you out of here?”
“No,” Liz answered as if there were nothing unusual. “I think I’ll wait here until the snow stops.”
Alex backed her way out, with Mrs. Biggs going ahead to hold the door for her. Gabe could hear them talking in the hallway as Elizabeth leaned against his shoulder like a cuddling child wanting to go back to sleep.
When Gabe heard the front door close, he lifted her off his knee and sat her on the chair beside him. “You made quite a scene.” He smiled.
She shrugged. “If Alex tells my brother, which she probably will, he’ll think business as usual. It won’t be the first time I’ve shocked him. Besides, you’re not a client, you’re my friend. You don’t need a lawyer, remember.”
Gabe glanced to make sure Mrs. Biggs hadn’t returned through one of the three swinging doors circling the kitchen before saying, “You get caught without your clothes on quite often?”
“It seems that way,” she answered. “But not really. I was wild in high school and most of college, and then I married and settled down. When I divorced, I tried to fly solo, but there was always someone around to keep me company. But I haven’t slept with anyone for almost two months, so that about makes me revirginized, doesn’t it?”
Gabe grinned at her logic.
“How long for you?” she asked.
“Is that a question?”
She smiled. “Yes, and be honest.”
“Almost six years.”
“Since what . . . you were married . . . involved?”
“Since I slept with a woman.”
“You’re kidding.” Her eyes widened. “How long were you two together? Six years is a long time to get over one woman.”
“We were together one night. If you count from the time the bar closed until I boarded a plane at oh six hundred the next morning.” He almost laughed at the shock on her face. “And before you ask, I don’t remember her name.”
“But . . .”
Before she could think of another question, he pulled her up and through the door into the curtained darkness of the huge dining room. “The way I figure it, you’re three questions ahead of my kisses.”
He lowered his mouth over hers. Like he knew she would, she melted into his arms, pulling his head down as she stood on her toes. There was nothing shy about Elizabeth or about what she liked, and she liked kissing him.
When they finally came up for air, he whispered, “One.”
She broke into a run up the back stairs.
He caught her outside her door and kissed her again.
“Two,” he said as she opened her door, pulling him with her.
He lifted her off the ground to meet his mouth as he whispered, “Three.”
She held on tight as if she thought she could rock the foundation of his world with one long, wet kiss.
And she almost did. Another minute of this paradise and he’d have trouble remembering his own name.
When she tugged him toward the bed, he stepped back with a sudden jerk and left them both surprised.
“Sorry, baby,” he said. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to spend the day in bed, but I’ve got to get home.”
“But it’s snowing out there.” She stomped her foot like a child. “You couldn’t get a snowplow down Timber Line Road right now.” Her hand drifted over his chest. “Stay a while. We could use a little time to get to know each other.”
He loved it when she pouted. Elizabeth had no idea how cute she looked. It took every ounce of sanity and survival instinct he had to back away from her. “I’ll borrow some heavy clothes and walk home.”
Before she could argue, he almost ran from the room.
Halfway down the stairs he heard her yell, “Drop dead, Gabe Leary.”
He smiled, glad she was mad at him and not worried about him. Right now he had enough worry for both of them. The sheriff said someone had called about him. Since no one knew he was alive, the call could mean only one thing.
The men who wanted him dead were still looking for Gabriel Wiseman, and somehow they’d linked him with Gabe Leary. The safest thing he could do for Elizabeth and everyone else in town was to stay away.
If trouble came for him, Gabe could fight it on his own terms. He’d be ready.
Ten minutes later he was out of the inn and heading for the creek bed with so many layers on he felt like a walking snowman. Before he took the incline, he found a branch to use as a walking stick. With it, his leg was strong enough to move fast. Once he reached the edge of town, he used the fence post to center the road and made quick time.
The wind was bitter, but he kept moving. He wouldn’t be safe until he got on his land, inside his house. He watched for signs, but as far as he could tell, no car or person had cut the snow. The farther he walked away from the town, the safer he felt. Whoever was looking for him would be looking in town, not outside. If they knew about his place, he would have seen the signs.
An hour later, when he finally opened his door, he took a deep breath. For a moment last night and this morning he’d forgotten that the only way for him to stay alive was for him to stay away from everyone.
Following his usual routine, he checked the locks. Scanned the security system for any breaks in the perimeter. When he was satisfied all was secure, he changed into his own clothes, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.
Finally, he flipped on his computer and began to scan the newspapers. If the sheriff was telling the truth and not just playing mind games with him, then someone in the area was looking for him.
Ten minutes later, he found a clue. On the fourth page of the Oklahoma Daily was a small article about a man saving a girl’s life in the middle of the first winter storm of the season. There, in print, was his name. Gabriel Leary. The last sentence read, Harmony, Texas, has a hero.
He sat back in his chair, trying to decide exactly what to do. Maybe it was just a coincidence that someone called from Oklahoma City the same day he made the news? Maybe not?
What action should he follow? Run came to mind first. Run as far and as fast as he could. He had enough money to disappear for a few years, maybe even buy another identity. Only problem was, anything bought could be traced. He might be able to make Gabe Leary disappear, but what about G. L. Smith and the career he’d spent years building?
The publishers might think it a little strange after almost five years if he wrote and asked them to start sending advances and royalties to someone else.
Maybe he was panicking. Maybe the caller from Oklahoma City had been a reporter and just wanted to check on him. The paper made him out to be a hero, like he’d done something superhuman pulling Reagan to safety and doing first aid. Heroes always have more friends than they know. Some guy in Oklahoma City probably just wanted to talk to him.
Gabe tromped down to the basement, where he’d built his own private gym. He began to work out, thinking that if he ha
dn’t been so paranoid, he could be sleeping with Elizabeth right now at crazy Martha Q’s bed-and-breakfast.
He looked over at Pirate staring at him. “Shut up,” Gabe said. “I don’t want to hear what a fool I am.”
The dog’s ears dropped and he turned his head sideways as if to get a better view of his idiot master.
Chapter 23
FRIDAY MIDMORNING
FEBRUARY 8, 2008
HARMONY TOWN SQUARE
ALEX WALKED BACK TO HER OFFICE IN THE TRAIL OF ONE of the snowplows. Nothing moved on the streets. The town could have been abandoned.
She felt like a fool. She hadn’t planned to stop at Winter’s Inn, but she’d noticed Liz’s sports car, half covered in snow, parked at the end of Martha Q’s long drive, and she guessed Liz might have taken Gabe there to stay. It made sense. The two women knew each other, and Gabe Leary would probably want somewhere quiet. Martha’s was about as quiet as he could get. The woman didn’t even keep the B&B sign up half the time.
Alex swore. She’d only gone in to talk to Gabe, maybe have a cup of coffee and get to know this newest hero of Harmony. But, he wasn’t an easy man to talk to. If Liz hadn’t interrupted, they probably would be yelling at each other about now.
He had a right to his privacy, but this was her town. She needed to know who lived here. A man with a military bearing about him, who walks the back streets at night, was someone to watch. A man who carried a weapon, polished and well-oiled for battle, wasn’t the bum he appeared to be in his old clothes and worn boots. A man who knew how to save Reagan’s life couldn’t be ignored.
Something the doctor had said kept running through her mind. He commented that if Gabe had taken the time to call 911 instead of applying pressure to the head wound and putting a tourniquet at the top of her leg to slow the bleeding, she might not have lived. She’d been close to death and Gabe had not only recognized it, he’d done what had to be done to keep Reagan alive.