“It’s a relief to finally get to this point. As the days and weeks passed, it was as if other people forgot what happened. Oh, not my family, but others. Whenever I go home at night, I still expect to see Toni and Ramon coloring at Mama’s table or playing with my brothers’ and sisters’ kids. Over Christmas, I wanted to die.”
“God, Isabella.” Gabe reached out and clasped her hand.
“God is why I’m still here. My beliefs would never allow me to take my life or anyone else’s. Part of what’s so incomprehensible to me is that Julian and I were raised in the same faith. We rarely missed attending church.”
Gabe puzzled over her remarks. If she had all that figured out, why was it so difficult for her to accept that Julian’s mind might simply have snapped? Considering how defensive she always got, he didn’t say what he was thinking.
They picked up coffee before parking in one of the lots near the courthouse. As they entered the building, Gabe noticed that Isabella seemed to have trouble catching her breath. No wonder—a bailiff was coming down the steps leading a group of prospective jurors. “Are you okay?” he whispered near her ear.
“Silly, isn’t it?” she whispered back. “Julian’s the one who should have problems breathing. It’s just…these people look so ordinary, and they wield such power.”
“Guess I never thought of it that way. Keep in mind that most jurors take their responsibility very seriously.”
Isabella nodded as they entered a courtroom already filling up with people.
Hayden spotted them right off and motioned them up front. Gabe would’ve preferred to observe from the back of the room, although he knew James would want Isabella front and center.
“You can relax, Isabella. Neither Julian nor anyone from his family is sitting in on the selection of jurors,” Hayden said after introducing them to his team of three.
Isabella frowned. “How will that work in Julian’s favor?”
James unloaded his briefcase. “I don’t know that it will.”
“Are you kidding? Every move Julian makes is calculated.”
The junior prosecutor no doubt thought he was helping when he told her the opposing team had presented the judge with a doctor’s certificate stating Julian’s health precluded his attending anything but the actual trial.
“Bullpucky,” was Isabella’s succinct response. She sat then, revealing an odd mix of anger and dignity.
Frustrations mounted on all sides as the day wore on. The judge, who apparently liked the sound of his own voice, lectured prospective jurors on trial rules ad nauseam. When he finished culling out those he deemed unsuitable, it was lunchtime.
“I’m not hungry,” Isabella said, even though she went with Gabe, James and his associates to a sandwich shop a few blocks from the court.
“If you don’t want a sandwich, then have soup,” Gabe said.
“My stomach already feels like a churning cement mixer. Throwing food in there isn’t such a great idea, Gabe.”
“Eating something may take the edge off your headache.”
“How did you know I have a headache?”
“I’m not psychic.” His grin spread slowly. “You’ve been rubbing your neck for the last hour.”
The lawyers trooped to the table. James made room for all their plates and cups. “You two had better eat. I know Judge Weller. This phase could take days.”
Isabella steepled her fingers. “I thought you said you and Julian’s lawyer would be asking the questions.”
“We may get a crack at the potential jurors he passes on this afternoon. No one ever said this was going to be a simple case, Isabella.”
“No. No, it isn’t. But I never imagined convicting him would take so long.”
James Hayden stopped with a sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Isabella,” he cautioned, “I warned you about making those kinds of remarks. Julian is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.”
“Not in my book. He’s guilty as guilty can be,” she bit back with such fury that Gabe looped an arm around her shaking shoulders.
“Have you ever been on a jury?” one of the assistants asked.
Isabella shook her head as she sank against Gabe. “But if I were called, I’d never be wishy-washy like some of those people. Anyone who’s read the paper or watched TV can’t doubt Julian’s intent. He ran a hose from his tailpipe into the car. James, you said you only have to prove intent.”
Gabe felt the muscles along her neck and back tighten. He wished there was some way he could ease the terrible pain she seemed determined to inflict on herself. “The lunch hour is half gone. Come through the line with me and pick out a soup.”
She rose and followed him without enthusiasm. “You said James had a passion for his work,” she murmured dully as Gabe thrust a tray into her nerveless hands.
“He does. The system demands he try his best to seat twelve unbiased people. They do exist. It takes time, but the teams will get there, you’ll see.”
“I’ll pray for biased people, Gabe. Ones willing to avenge Toni and Ramon.”
“There’s no point in arguing, Isabella. Our soup choices are broccoli-cheese or minestrone.”
“I’ll have a toasted bagel, plain.”
Gabe gave their order before she could change her mind and come away with nothing. He was glad to see James and his assistants tossing their trash in the waste cans, getting ready to leave by the time he and Isabella sat down again.
“Chris spilled catsup on his tie.” James pointed to the splotch. “We’ll run back to the hotel so he can change. See you two in court at one o’clock.”
Gabe had ordered the broccoli-cheese soup. He checked the paisley tie he had on and muttered to Isabella, “If I spill any of this, we won’t have time to go back to the cottage.”
“You’re lucky. There’s yellow and green already mixed in with the blue. The soup will blend right in,” she said, which told Gabe she wasn’t all nerves and no humor. If only he knew how to help her reach beyond the hatred she’d stored up. Maybe he ought to admit he’d once been consumed with hostility, too. He’d remained miserable until he learned the only road out was to let go of his anger at his parents. Mostly Russ, but then he had discovered he was also furious at his mother for dying. Ultimately he decided Isabella didn’t need his old troubles heaped atop hers.
The first half of the afternoon was a repeat of the morning. A second pool of twenty-four would-be jurors trooped into the room behind a bailiff, only to be subjected to the same scrutiny by Weller. Midway through the afternoon, James and Julian’s attorney were finally given the go-ahead to ask questions of those Weller had okayed.
Isabella stopped fidgeting and leaned forward in her seat.
Back and forth the teams hurled questions, one after another. Isabella nearly jumped out of her skin when the judge banged his gavel.
“May I advise the court that these proceedings are suspended until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.” Weller rose in a rustle of black silky robes. His clerk hurriedly asked everyone to rise.
“What’s happening?” Isabella asked Gabe, who’d pulled her out of her chair.
“It’s five o’clock. Time for us to go.”
James shut his folders and approached Isabella and Gabe. “The last hour went well, don’t you agree?”
“Well?” Isabella gaped. “The day’s gone and you’ve only selected one man and one woman to be on the jury.”
“Which only gives us ten to go. Isabella, I explained this phase would likely be long and drawn-out. If you’d rather conserve your energy for the competency arguments, then by all means, do so.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not missing one minute.”
“Suit yourself.” He aimed a slight shrug toward Gabe.
“Before you go—is there a back door? I saw several eager-beaver reporters out front. I’d like to duck them for Isabella’s sake if we can.”
He shook his head. “Just hustle on by those jokers or they’ll hound you to death. It’s way t
oo early to make statements to the press.”
Gabe did his darnedest to shield Isabella from having notepads, microphones and flashing cameras shoved into her face. The two of them were out of breath when they reached the Lexus.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stripping off the glasses he’d worn in court.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Closing her eyes, she cupped both hands over her face. “They all ask how I feel. How do they think I feel, for pity’s sake?”
Gabe fastened their seat belts. “News is their job, and this trial is news,” he said matter-of-factly. He motioned for two particularly pushy reporters to get out from behind the SUV. “I’m backing out,” he warned, lowering his window a crack.
They scattered at the last moment and he drove away.
“Gabe, some of them are following us.” Isabella had grown panicky.
“It’s their turf. No sense trying to ditch them. We’ll rely on the resort’s security to keep the wolves off our doorstep.”
“Why are they so interested in knowing your name?”
“They smell a sidebar. I’m a new wrinkle,” he explained. “Reporters are always on the lookout for a scandal.”
“What?” Her voice rose shrilly.
Gabe slowed to go through the resort gate. He had the electronic key card in his hand, but couldn’t resist bending over and planting a kiss on Isabella’s lips in order to silence what would surely lead to another disagreement.
She pressed a hand to her tingling lips, never realizing they’d passed through the gates and left the reporters outside.
“We’ll change clothes. You can phone your folks and catch them up. Then let’s take a horseback ride through the pines before I toss a couple of steaks on the grill. Wait—do you ride?”
“Yes. I owned two horses. Julian sold them. He hated the way I smelled when I came in from a ride. Or that was his excuse. He didn’t like to ride, but disliked even more that riding got me out from under his watchful eye.”
“I proposed a ride as a way to relax. If it brings you bad memories—”
“You know, it does sound inviting. Gosh, I hope I haven’t forgotten how. It’s been ten years.”
“I don’t think you forget how.” He winked at her. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“All right. Please make the arrangements. And Gabe, thanks. I feel less tense already.”
He smiled as he unlocked the cottage. Once they were inside, he reached up and released the clip holding Isabella’s braid. When the hair didn’t at once tumble free, Gabe threaded his fingers through the strands.
She grabbed his hand. “Why did you do that? It takes me an hour to fix a nice French braid.”
He teased the soft ends of her hair between forefinger and thumb. “All day I’ve been watching you rub your head. Can you honestly tell me this doesn’t feel better?”
“Of course it does. But if I wear it loose, it falls to my waist and takes years off my age. I need the jurors to see me as a woman, not a girl.”
“No danger of missing that, Isabella.” Gabe’s eyes darkened appreciably. His fingers inched up to her neck, and he leaned toward her lips again.
She sidestepped his touch and massaged her upper arms briskly. “We’re, uh, just friends, remember?”
Gabe brushed back a lock of his own hair, which had fallen into his eyes. “Right! Friends. So.” He blew out air. “Do you want first crack at the bathroom?”
“Go ahead. I’ll, ah…phone Mama. She’ll be anxious to hear from me. Then you can call the stable while I change into jeans.”
An hour later, their ride went off without a hitch. Afterward, the steaks were grilled to perfection, even if Gabe did say so himself. Isabella refused to share the wine he’d carefully chosen to go with the meal. He regretted making that earlier move on her; it had left her wary of being alone with him in the cottage.
“You have a lock on your bedroom door,” he felt compelled to point out when she made excuses to flee there the moment dishes had been dispensed with.
“Rick’s coming tomorrow. Just for the day. He’ll probably have a lot to say about our accommodations. I’m sorry, Gabe. My brother’s a nice man. He’s only gotten this way after Julian—well, Rick’s afraid I’ll be hurt again.”
“You have my word I’d never hurt you, Isabella. I can handle Rick, okay?”
She nodded, but it didn’t stop her from shooting home the dead bolt on her door.
COURT WAS MORE UNCOMFORTABLE for Gabe the next day, Rick Navarro’s hulking presence being the largest contributor. “I rented the cottage for security reasons,” he told Rick after lunch. They were waiting for Isabella to return from the ladies’ room. “There are two hide-a-beds in the cottage. You’re welcome to use them. Same goes for any member of your family. Move in tonight. I’ll get you an extra key.”
“You know damn well I can’t take more than a day at a time away from the orchards. All of us are in the same boat.”
“I can’t help that.” Gabe straightened his tie. “This isn’t about us.” He looked directly into Rick’s eyes. “You helped stave off the mob of reporters earlier—you saw what it’s like. Isabella’s beyond their reach at the resort.”
“But not beyond yours.” Plenty of heat dripped off Rick’s words.
“No. Not beyond mine,” Gabe said flatly. “Can’t you see I care about her?”
Rick reared back to study his adversary. “Hurt her, Poston, and we’ll settle this in a different way.”
Gabe rattled around the cottage alone that night. Rick took Isabella out to dinner and didn’t invite him. Needing to release some energy, Gabe ambled off to swim laps. He missed Isabella’s arrival home. She’d left a note on the kitchen counter saying Joe would pick her up in the morning. Fine! He’d take Wednesday off and run home to see how the carpentry work was coming.
It was while he was there that he learned Manny planned to be in court the following day. “Here, take my key card to save explaining to security. And this card gives my cell number. Someone can let me know when or if I’m needed in Bend again. I’m glad we all agree Isabella shouldn’t go through this trial process alone.”
“Look, Bella’s five years my senior. I think Rick’s gone overboard, but—hey, we’re family.”
“I have no experience in that quarter, Manny. But I’d never get between Isabella and her family. Just keep me updated, okay?”
Early the next morning, at daybreak, Gabe’s cell phone rang. He’d spent half the night tearing out kitchen cabinets and felt as if he’d barely gotten to sleep. “’Lo,” he croaked.
“Gabe, it’s Manny. Manny Navarro. Christina went into labor about an hour ago. I’m at the hospital. The doctor thinks she may need a C-section.”
Scrambling in the dark to find his clothes, Gabe asked what he could do to help. “Do you want me to bring your mother to the hospital?”
“She’s here. Most of the family is. I’m calling because it leaves Bella alone. Joe said they still have three jurors to go. And Bella’s a bundle of nerves. Joe says she’s worried sick about the outcome.”
“Plus now she’ll have Christina to worry over. Damn, it’s almost six o’clock.” Gabe stroked his unshaven jaw. “I worked on the house till three. Did Joe say what time court reconvenes?”
“Ten.”
“If traffic’s with me, I may get in before they close the doors. Phone Isabella and have her take a cab. Tell her I’ll meet her at the courthouse. And Manny, call me on my cell to let us know how Christina makes out. Good luck, man.”
After the fastest shower and shave in history, Gabe was on the road in sixteen minutes. He’d left extra clothes at the cottage, so he didn’t need to pack. Surely they ought to be able to agree on the last three jurors today, he thought. That would let Isabella come home to be with her family during this crisis. She’d have a few days to spend with them before the hard part of the trial began.
He dashed into the courtroom with mere minutes to spare. As Gabe slid
into the empty seat next to Isabella, he tried not to show his shock at her pale, drawn appearance. She looked a wreck.
“Gabe! Manny said you’d be here. I’m so torn about staying or going home.”
“Any word on Christina’s condition?” he asked, not caring who saw him rub life back into Isabella’s cold hands.
She gave a shake of her head. “Not a word. Manny sounded frantic.”
“If they’d get this show on the road, with luck we’ll be done early enough to get you back to Callanton to see your new niece or nephew. Unless—will that be too hard on you, Isabella? To see a baby, I mean.”
She squeezed his fingers. “It will, but not as hard as if Christina lo-loses this baby. Her first. God, Gabe, I couldn’t handle another funeral. I couldn’t.”
“Whoa! Manny didn’t even hint that was a possibility.”
Members of the defense team whirled and glared at them. Gabe belatedly realized everyone else was standing because the judge had entered the room.
They’d been wrong in assuming the final jurors would be seated quickly. Five o’clock rolled around, after a grueling day of first one lawyer dismissing a juror, then the other throwing out the next one. Everyone left in a snit.
“James is concerned,” Isabella said as Gabe shut them both into the Lexus. “He’s determined the last three slots on the jury should go to women.”
“It’s apparent the defense team knows and intends to block him. Here’s my cell. Phone Manny and find out what’s going on. I think we should head back to Callanton tonight.”
“And not see who the last jurors are?” She bit her lip. “I want to stay. I hope they can complete the jury selection on Friday.”
The phone rang then, and Isabella almost dropped it.
“Manny, thank heaven,” she cried. “How’s Christina? You have a girl?” She covered the phone. “They have a daughter,” she informed Gabe. “She didn’t need a C-section?” Turning, Isabella spoke into the phone again. “So, everything went slow but fine? You named her Manuela. Well, that’s original.” She rolled her eyes at Gabe. “Actually, it didn’t wind down today. No progress. Hopefully tomorrow. Either way, I’ll be home for the weekend. It’s okay, Manny. Tell Rick to get a life. Hug Christina and the baby for me.” She said the last brightly. Too brightly.
Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 20