To all-- I'm sorry these chapters have been slow in coming. I blame this on three things: (1) I have decided to publish Melody of Silence-- a decision which is sucking up a lot of time and mental energy. (2) I am a natural flake and bad at consistent updating. (3) I am having a veritable crisis at work. Like 'might lose my job in a manner that will make it impossible to find a new job in the future' level catastrophe which is pretty horrible and taxing. That said, I am doing a lot of meditating and trying to look at things holistically and as horrible as this is it's proven a good measure of all the hard work I've put into laying a foundation of mental stability upon which to build my clusterfuck of a life...
Anyways: now time for some targeted comments!
GigiLaurent My best friend is one of these people who folks meet and they're like "she is the kindest, purest, most innocent soul I have ever met. But then you get to know her and she's definitely kind and compassionate but she's also HELLA vindictive and vengeful. And the more you comment on my stories the more I am inclined to add you to that subsect of humanity that is so sweet and kind and lovely until you piss them off and then you'd better watch the fuck out lololol.
Cheldu3 I'm glad you are appreciating her transformation! I was super proud of her for standing up for herself and being independent. But also WTF? No grammar edits? I can't afford a line editor, mon ami. I need you.
ImpressDivinity I'm so happy! More good, reflective vibes to follow, lol.
SocialGrace 😭😭😭 Stop being so nice to me, OMG. You are impossibly kind and if ever there was a compliment to a writer it was that his/her writing was adequate distraction from bullshit real life. If you are the only person for whom I provide that distraction, I will continue to write until the day the universe takes me. So thank you.
Kinji_plays She decided to get pregnant when I was writing Josh's POV and went back and read the Something Borrowed epilogue and was like "oh shit oh fuck they need to have a baby YESTERDAY hahahahaha. Sometimes being a pantser instead of a plotter is great. Sometimes it's a big pain in the ass, lol.
louis_stylesthebrave OMG a horse person!!! I am officially enlisting you to monitor all my books for horse-stuff-that-doesn't-make-sense. I've done a lot of research and I rode western when I was a kid and did a horseback trek in central asia, so I'm not utterly useless. But it's also been a long time since I've ridden. There's two more 'western' books coming which, by genre requirement, have a lot of horse details. So I hereby request that gently but firmly inform me when my horseback riding details don't make sense. I'll pay you zero dollars but a LOT of gratitude...
purplishsunflower Hahaha, I'm glad you were keeping track. I completely forgot Amelia needed to be having another baby. if it hadn't been for you guys asking about it she'd have never got pregnant again lol. And this is why Wattpad is such a great platform for works-in-progress...
Mountain077 If there's anything I'm good at it's bringing the mood way, way, WAY down and then shocking everyone out of it with an inappropriately-placed joke hahaha.
IONBAIO I'm sorry that there were no more updates for you. But for what it's worth (and I think I speak for a lot of writers, here) sometimes it's super discouraging to have so few readers when we're in the process of writing. I, for one, am fueled by feedback. The more people I feel are waiting on an update, the more motivated I feel to write it. So, while I am sorry that I am not great about updating, I do hope you stick with me on this one and toss out some encouragement as I go. For what it's worth, I had a productive week and actually have three chapters spooled up and ready to go. So it won't be so long between this update and the next...
ummmooops You have accurately predicted the content the theme of this coming chapter! Poor Gabe very much would have been left behind, if not for Josh's forward thinking and tiptop quality friendship, lol.
dragonfliespineapple To of MY books in a day!? That's bound to take a lot out of you, lol. Too much angst is like too much salt. It's great going down, but it'll wreak havoc on your blood pressure, lolol. Welcome to Liz's wonderful world of misery and melancholy! If you get bored waiting for the next update of Something Blue, feel free to hop over to Melody of Silence. There's three books there, which should keep you busy for at least a couple days, and they make this series look like a frolic in the park 😂
Alrighty. Here's another chapter! I've gone ahead and built up a backlog for myself so I can return to more consistent edits. My goal is to get this story finished in the next month so I can focus entirely on publishing Melody of Silence which is gonna be quite a feat...
* * *
Gabe
From his place in the shadows of the front porch, Gabe listened to the muffled, distant sounds of the girls preparing for bed. It had been nearly two weeks since the saloon had been open for business, but all of the girls still kept odd hours. Laying the rifle across his knees, he pulled his watch from his pocket and squinted at the time.
Nearly two in the morning.
With a sigh, he tucked the watch away and closed frigid fingers around the cool wood and icy metal of the rifle, eyes scanning the road, ears pricked to strange sounds. The first few nights of this watch, every sound had been strange. The distant thump of a lump of snow falling to earth from a branch. The rustle of sodden leaves as some scampering creature tore from one tree to another. Owls hooting and insects slowly coming alive in the thawing earth.
He wasn't so jumpy, now. Then again, his body and mind were so heavy with exhaustion he doubted he'd be jumpy even if the reverend himself strode up the road, torch in hand.
He told himself it was the anger keeping him awake even when he crawled into his bed each morning. He was, after all, angry at just about everyone and everything on earth. At the reverend for being such a loathsome mound of slime. At the townspeople for being so mind-bogglingly stupid as to follow in the reverend's path. At the girls for descending into tittering, nervous antics, refusing even to visit the outhouse in groups smaller than five. At Caroline for appointing him general in this war he had never cared about. At his mother for dying in his place. At Katherine for refusing, even now, to consider him a true partner. At himself, for allowing all of this to fall so tragically out of hand.
But in truth, it wasn't the anger keeping him up. It was the images that played against his eyelids every time he had the audacity to attempt a semblance of rest. Pale skin and wide eyes. Bright red blood, thick and seeping.
It was better these days to sleep in fits and snatches, dozing by the fire or in the stables, where the sounds and smells of the horses kept him grounded in the present. His bed—cold sheets in an empty, echoing room—was no place for rest.
His eyelids drooped with fatigue and he pushed himself to his feet, the old wooden rocking chair creaking with the lifting weight. The hollow thump of his boots on the porch slats sounded unreasonably loud in the quiet stillness of the night.
As he always did when weariness threatened to inhibit his watch, he descended the porch steps and made a slow, meandering circuit around the saloon. He checked the stables, where the horses whickered an annoyed, sleepy welcome. He visited the gentle mound of tilled earth beneath which his mother lay rotting. He checked the well for signs of tampering and the outhouse for whatever lurking predator the girls were so convinced was going to snatch them up at their most vulnerable.
The ground underfoot was soft, and his footsteps were an intrusive squelching that silenced the woods around him. He enjoyed the pattern in a distant, hollow way. It was pleasant to sit back down in his hidden nook of the porch and listen to the woods come slowly back alive. Once, during a long stretch between trips, a doe and her fawn picked their way across the road in front of him. In a strange way, these long overnight watch shifts reminded him of the years he'd spent waiting for Katherine. He'd thought himself in hell, back then.
Ignorant.
It was only fifteen minute after he'd resettled in his chair before his eyelids began to droop once more, and the moonlit road began to warble and drift out of focus. With a sigh, he pushed to his feet.
And froze.
The woods to the right had gone silent. Silent enough that he heard a twig snap. Silent enough that he could hear his own hammering heart.
Well, at least now he knew he was still capable of alarm.
Forcing himself to breathe silently through his nose, Gabe sank back into the shadows. He hefted the rifle in his hands and lowered himself to a crouch, watching the woodline through the porch rails. Even the harsh moonlight didn't penetrate the trees, their depths an inky unknown.
He waited for endless minutes, his feet going numb and his legs cramping from holding his crouched position. Gradually, the sounds of the woods began to return. His mind told him it was just a particularly clumsy animal, but his instincts held him still, one shoulder propped against the wall, finger resting along the curved edge of the trigger-well.
There!
The ink of the woodline shifted, materializing into the unmistakable outline of a man. Gabe grit his teeth against the urge to stand up and start firing. He thirsted so desperately for blood. Retribution was a constant hum in his veins.
Instead of firing, he waited and watched as the figure stole from the woods to the shadow of the stables. Then it darted out of view, headed straight for the door to his unoccupied quarters. A few seconds passed, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of three knocks, muffled by the thickness of the wooden door.
He didn't suppose the reverend's lackeys would knock if they intended to kill him, but he still moved silently. Unsure. Perhaps they would knock. Bring him to the door and then shoot him through it.
Slowly, painstakingly, he rose from his crouch and crept to the stairs, keeping to the spots where he knew the boards wouldn't creak. Down the stairs and around the edge of the porch, hugging the walls where the shadows hid his movement. When he reached the corner, he pressed his back to the wall and slowly peered around the corner.
The figure stood flagrantly outside his door, posture furtive but with no visible armaments. And there was still only one.
Gathering his breath, Gabe clenched his hands around the rifle and whipped around the corner, bringing the weapon up to bear.
"Hands up!" he hissed.
The figure jerked and stumbled back, hands shooting up. Its backwards movement carried it into the moonlight, and Gabe sagged against the wall, rifle drooping in his hands.
"Good lord, Josh," he breathed, shocked at the smile that was pulling at his cheeks. "Are you trying to get shot?"
His friend grinned back at him, teeth flashing in the darkness. "Sorry," he murmured, closing the distance and taking the hand Gabe offered. "Didn't mean to sneak, but I couldn't come up the road. Didn't want anyone else seeing me."
"Well, you're lucky I'm not one of the girls," Gabe offered, nodding toward the porch. "They shoot on sight when they're on watch. Chrissie blew a poor squirrel to pieces earlier today."
Josh grimaced. "I'll keep that in mind, though I don't plan on any more sneaky visits. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
Gabe glanced toward the porch. "You can sit with me and keep watch for a while," he said. "I can't leave the front unattended for too long."
Josh nodded, and, loose-limbed with relief, Gabe led the way back to the porch, settling back into his rocking chair while his friend took the empty one beside him. Safely ensconced in the shadows, Gabe laid his rifle back across his knees and frowned at his friend.
"What the hell are you doing out here? Did you walk all the way?"
"Nah." Josh rubbed the back of his neck. "Left Copper a few hundred yards into the woods. He's not much good at sneaking."
"Which brings us back to the question of why you decided to sneak up..." Gabe said, letting his voice trail off, leaving a blank for his friend to fill.
Josh sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and hanging his head for a second. Then he looked up, gazing out at the empty road.
"Well to start, everyone is safe. So don't worry."
"That's a sure way to get a man to worry," Gabe said dryly, tension raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
"Yeah, well..." Josh shook his head again, glancing at Gabe over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the road. "The reverend's turned his attention on the ranch. I can't prove it, but someone slaughtered a herd of cattle by the fenceline, and we think one of the wells was poisoned. We got a package from town, unmarked. It was one of the whelps from Cleo's last litter. Dead. Head lopped clean off."
"Hell," Gabe breathed, and Josh nodded.
"Amelia's the one who opened the package. She's pretty shaken. Like I said, I can't prove it but it feels like someone's sending us a message."
"I'm sorry," Gabe said, the words empty and worthless. "I brought this on your family."
"Oh stop," Josh said, flapping a hand and leaning back in his chair. "That bastard had it out for me a long time ago. You might be his favorite enemy, but you're not his only. Anyway, we can handle his little games. I've got enough men to keep my place safe, enough profit to pay them, and enough clout in town to keep the worst at bay. I'm not here to talk about this little vendetta."
"Why are you here?"
Josh sighed, his eyes a dark glisten in the pitch black as he glanced Gabe's way. "Amelia and I told Katherine what was happening. She was upset, of course, but she came up with her own plan. Amelia and I tried to talk her into staying, but she was adamant it's time for her and Isobel to leave. Your woman is a hell of a strategist. She made some good points. Said if we sneak her out and then let Peters onto the ranch to look around himself, we can make a fool of him in front of our followers. And she also pointed out that the longer this war stretches on, the harder it'll be to get her out safely. Now is the best time. She wants to leave tomorrow night. Well... tonight now, I suppose. Travel off the roads to Ridgecreek and take the train."
Gabe listened, his heart detaching from his mind with every word. Josh sounded surprised at Katherine's ingenuity and boldness, but Gabe wasn't. He'd hoped that wild, stubborn girl still lived inside her, and a part of him rejoiced to hear that she'd finally found her way back.
Another part of him—the warm, soft part that had evaded even the deep freeze of his mother's death—clenched so tight he lifted a hand from his rifle to rub at his chest to ease the ache.
"That so?" he heard himself ask, remarking at the disinterested monotone of his own voice. He couldn't truly make out Josh's face in the darkness, but he could tell just from the slight shift of the angles of black that his friend was frowning. And sure enough, when Josh finally spoke his tone was cautious and light, as if treading on cracking ice.
"It's a smart idea," Josh said slowly. "But I don't feel right about it. I thought about sending Reb and Amelia out into the world. Even with fifteen thousand men to protect them I wouldn't sleep for worrying. I'd pull all my hair out. And I got to really thinking, asking myself why the hell I'd feel better having just myself with them than I would if every man on my ranch rode behind them. And honestly, brother, it's because they're mine. Just as Katherine and Isobel are yours. I came out here to tell you that they're setting out just after dusk. I know you have an obligation to these girls, but you have more than an obligation to Katherine and Isobel. They're your family. You need to leave with them. Whatever it takes..."
Gabe stared at the void of his friend's outline—a shifting blackness in the dark—and thought of Katherine and Isobel trekking through the woods at night. He had known Katherine's form on a moonless night, once many years ago. It had been a shimmering, ethereal thing, lethal in its faceless beauty. But for all that it was lithe energy and life, it was also slender. Fragile. An eggshell of impossible strength, but so terribly vulnerable.
And Izzy. God, Izzy. She was so small-- her hand dwarfed by his, her tiny body swallowed by the blankets Katherine used to bundle her up after a day in the snow. His sweet Isobel was a spark, and he could only imagine the endless deep of the wilderness picking her up and drifting her away on currents of fear and loneliness. No. No, he couldn't let them go alone.
"Katherine sent you to tell me?" he asked, wondering why he bothered. He knew the answer, just as he knew that hearing it spoken aloud would drive a shard of glass into that tender real estate within his heart.
Again, Josh's face was formless in the night, but Gabe read the man's discomfort as clearly as if it were written in ink beneath a glaring summer sun.
"You can't get bent out of shape about it, man. She was distracted. Frightened. Excited. You know how it is."
Yes, yes he did. He had been distracted before. Frightened. Excited. Bereft. Hopeful. Anguished. Elated. Whether he was standing on a peak or languishing in a valley, straining uphill or tumbling downhill, his first and last thoughts were the same.
Her.
"I suppose you forget Amelia exists every time something exciting happens," he said dryly, watching the absolute stillness of the road. It could have been a painting for how little it seemed to move.
Josh sighed. "Like I said, Gabe, don't take it personal. She's got a lot on her m—"
"You said," Gabe drawled, cutting off the echo of his friend's lousy argument. What other way was there to take it than 'personal?' "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll be there. It's not as if I've got a choice. Like you said, they're my family. Even if Katherine wanted my head on a pike, I'd still have to be there for her. She's the mother of my child."
Again, Josh sighed, but it sounded less exasperated now, and more saddened. "I am sorry, brother. You know I know the way it feels. Amelia wasn't exactly crazy about me when she first showed up the ranch. And now look at her. Look at us. What I'm trying to say is just be patient. Katherine was hurt and she's healing faster than any of us could have foreseen, but she's still not whole. Have faith that when she comes back to herself, she'll give the same to you that you've always given her."
Faith.
What a ridiculous word.
Faith was at best a crutch and at worst a shackle.
No, he didn't believe in the power of faith. He believed in what he knew, and what he knew was that Katherine had only ever truly come to him in her darkest moments. She only ever had room for their love in the cracks and fissures of her life. The stronger she became, the more those wounds healed, the less room there would be.
He'd take her and Isobel to wherever she wanted to go. He'd stay for as long as it took for her to find a life for herself and a love she had room for. A man she could stand by in the sunlight and moonlight and all the hours in between. Some buttoned-up churchgoer who shared her faith, and whose name and face would imprint themselves in her heart the way hers had done to Gabe's. Someone she thought of first, even when she didn't need to. Even when he wasn't the only place left to turn.
And then he'd leave to save himself the tearing pain of watching a better man raise his Isobel.
"Gabe?"
He jerked and nodded without bothering to look at his friend. "I'll be there," he said. "And I appreciate you coming here. I know it can't have felt right leaving the ranch with all that's happening. I'm sorry I brought this down on your head."
Josh shrugged—a rustle of fabric in the darkness—and his chair creaked as he shifted. "I told you, you idiot, you didn't bring anything down on my head. There's sides in every war. Shifting alliances and all that. But you and I have always been on the same side of this one. All this is is another skirmish. We'll get through it, same as we always have."
Gabe didn't respond, and they sat for a few minutes in the weary, companionable peace of two men staring at an advancing army beneath a roiling horizon, wind whipping their clothes and nowhere to run from the coming onslaught. Josh rose and said it was time to head back. Gabe shook his hand and thanked him for coming. Then he sat in his chair and watched his friend's shifting shadow melt back into the woods. He counted the hours he knew it would take for Josh to reach home, and only when those hours had passed, the night still silent and uncracked by gunfire, did some of the tension leave his spine.
Night bled into dawn. Chrissie came to relieve him from the watch. He went back to his room, his eyes gritty and his body weighted down with fatigue, but he didn't sleep. He packed items of necessity into a leather knapsack. Clothing and his shaving kit. Spare ammunition. His knife. Then he stood beside the table and stared at the bag, half full, with a wilting, neglected look as it sagged into the empty space within it.
Katherine must be packing as well. Her bag would be fuller. She'd have her own clothes, and Isobel's. Her own toiletry items, and Isobel's. She would run out of room pretty quickly, if she intended to travel light. Would there be room in her bag for those silly gifts he'd given them?
Somehow, he knew there wouldn't be.
A sudden, intense heaviness settled over him and he sank onto the edge of his bed, pressing the heel of his hand to the persistent ache in his chest. He closed his eyes and imagined going into the bar room and smashing every bottle against the wall. He imagined finding the man who had shot his mother. Shooting him in the shoulder, the chest, and the leg and, while he lay bleeding and gasping for air, pounding a fist into his face until it was a hideous, twisted mask. He imagined standing before Katherine and telling her the words of every pulse of his heart. His love, his fear, his craving, his pain. He saw the guilt on her face, delicate features twisted with a sorrow she didn't need or deserve to feel.
He couldn't destroy the bottles in the bar, because it would scare the girls. He couldn't kill the man who had murdered his mother, because it would endanger everyone he loved. He couldn't hurt Katherine, not even with the truth, because no part of his body or mind would allow him to do so. To ask himself to hurt her would be to ask a river to run upstream. Some things in nature bent to man's will. Some things did not.
He dropped onto his back, fully clothed with his booted feet still resting on the floor, and stared at the ceiling. Let it drift in and out of focus. Let the images of his mother's death visit him. They came, and his heart tried to race, but it was too heavy. He listened to the sluggish beat of it in his ears, closed his eyes, and didn't fight the ugly, chaotic dreams that sucked him under. He walked through them with the same dull disinterest that carried him through his midnight walks around the saloon, and with each step his feet sank further into the earth until he was buried to his knees and could no longer walk.
Trapped, he watched as the cold, gray scenes of death were swept away, like shadows sliding into light as swift-moving clouds parted to reveal the sun. The streets were no longer empty, but buzzing with gentle life and soft, spring colors. The crisp pink light of dawn made every surface glitter.
Katherine stood by a fruit seller's stand, one hand inspecting the wares and the other wrapped tight around Isobel's. He couldn't hear them, but he could see the animation in their faces as they discussed the bright red apples and the perfect, round oranges.
Desperate, he pulled at his feet, but only sank deeper into the cobblestones. He opened his mouth to call out, but his throat closed around the sound, his chest ballooning with the trapped pleas until he couldn't breathe for the pressure.
A man approached the fruit stand. Light brown hair caught the sun, and his starched white shirt seemed to glow. He sneaked up behind the girls, and Gabe opened his mind to shout a warning, but again the sound caught between his lungs and his lips. His feet sank deeper. The man reached out and grabbed Katherine about the waist. She shrieked, spinning around, and Gabe clawed at the cobblestones, fingers scrabbling uselessly as the ground sucked him deeper. Deeper. No wonder he couldn't speak, with the stones wrapped tight around his chest.
Katherine's shriek turned to a laugh, and she slapped the faceless man in the chest before throwing his arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips while Isobel reached up her arms for her own hug. People milled around the little reunion, but there was no shame in the way they embraced. No fear.
The cobblestones swallowed him. He fell. Landed hard on his bed, all the trapped words of his dream finally escaping his chest in a breathless, choking cry.
He sat, swiping the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, and looked around the room. He could tell by the play of light against the plain white curtains that it was nearing noon. He'd slept for hours.
Rising, he went to the basin by the door and splashed water on his face. Brushed the taste of sleep from his teeth. He changed into a clean shirt and ditched his boots, walking barefoot through the quiet saloon into the bar room.
Caroline was hunkered down behind the bar, cleaning the farthest recesses of the shelves. She was like his mother that way—always looking for something to do. Never sitting still.
"Hey," she said as he leaned against the wall and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, don't start in on me. The shelves were filthy."
"Must've been a pretty wild week since you cleaned them last," he said dryly. "Can I talk to you, Caro?"
Frowning, she tossed her rag onto the shelf and pushed to her feet, wiping her hands on her skirt. "You alright?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and studying him intently.
"I'm fine. Your office?"
Still frowning, casting him puzzled glances over her shoulder as she walked, she led the way to her office. He closed the door behind him.
"I'm leaving tonight," he said without preamble.
Caroline's eyes shot wide, then narrowed with confusion. "I... okay. Why? When will you be back?"
"I don't know when I'll be back," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know if I'll be back. I've been planning to leave for a while. I'd spoken to my... it wasn't... Vivian knew. Before..."
Caroline waved a hand and rolled her eyes. "Of course she knew," she said. "I'm sure she was relieved. But Gabe... tonight?"
Guilt battered at the walls around him, but didn't find its way through. All he felt was heaviness.
"It has to be tonight," he said. "I don't have a choice. Before... before she died, we'd been looking into new men to look after the place. Some of Josh Tucker's folks, who need a little extra cash. He can recommend trustworthy men. You won't be alone."
Caroline scowled and braced her hands on her hips. "I'm not worried about that, Gabe. We can look after ourselves. It's just sudden, that's all. I don't understand."
"I can't explain," he sighed, dropping his gaze to her fists, which were propped resolutely on her hips. "I'm sorry, Caro. Please trust me, I wouldn't leave you for no good reason."
Her foot was tapping, a sure sign she was furious, and he looked up to see her glaring at him. He did his best to square his shoulders against the nameless weight and waited for the barrage. She would be angry. She should be angry. She would call him selfish and irresponsible. She would accuse him of running right when they needed him most. She would ask him questions he couldn't answer, and her eyes would flash with hurt when he refused to answer them.
Nonetheless, he knew it wouldn't hurt him. Nothing could, except for that man at the fruit stand. The one who was gentle enough to frighten Katherine in jest without sending her into hysterics, and strong enough to hold Isobel when she reached for him.
Finally she breathed out a huff of air, and her arms dropped to hang at her sides. Her mouth twisted in a frown and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. She was a tall woman, and her grip squeezed around his ribs rather than his waist, like Katherine's did. She rested her head on his shoulder as he hugged her back.
"You've always been a fool," she said, patting his back and turning her head to press a kiss to his cheek. Then she backed away, shaking her head. "Of course you're not leaving for no good reason, Gabe. We all know how much you love us. You've always been there when we needed you, just like Vivian was. Helping people is in your blood, honey. If you're leaving us, it's because someone else needs you more. The girls will understand that."
Gabe looked around the little office. Caroline was neater than his mother ever had been. Everything was carefully organized, from the ledger book to the colorful little trinkets that covered every surface and brought life to every wall. He thought of something happening to her—to this place—and a fist of ice closed around his spine.
"Caro, if anything happens..." he trailed off when she shook her head sharply, hands back on her hips.
"Things happen every day," she admonished, raising her chin. "You being here isn't going to stop them. Your being gone isn't going to summon them. You're a hell of a man, Gabe, but you're not God, and God is the only one more capable of protecting us than we are. Try to have the same faith in our strength that we've always had in yours. We love you, but we don't need you. Trust in that, if nothing else."
He stared at her, and she at him, and he realized she was right. All he had ever noticed was his own role. Protecting the girls. Punishing their attackers. Going to town when they were too afraid to do so. It had never occurred to him that, in his absence, they were capable of filling those gaps. Chrissie was a better shot than he was, and Sally was just as vigilant a watcher. Lindy was a thousand times smarter, and Tiff could sweet talk any gaggle of angry men into wistful sighs and girlish giggles. All they lacked was brawn, and even that they had—in numbers. That's why they went everywhere in groups. And to think he'd been so annoyed by it...
"I do," he said finally, offering her a smile that felt strained, like flexing an overtaxed muscle. "Thank you, Caro. Strong as the lot of you are, I don't know if I'd be able to leave if I didn't know you were here. My, uh... Vivian would be..."
Caroline smiled, sweet and strong. "I know, honey. She'd be proud of you too. Now go, get some rest. You look like hell. You've got to be in good shape for this mysterious journey of yours." She brushed past him, headed back to the bar, and he caught her arm.
"Caroline?"
"What is it?" she asked, a wrinkle forming between her finely-shaped brows.
"Can you..." he gestured vaguely at the door. "With all of them, I don't know if—"
"I'll talk to them," she said, patting his cheek like he was some anxious schoolboy.
"After I leave. The reverend..."
"I know," she said. "I understand. Just go, Gabe. You've worried about us long enough. Look after your own house."
She gave him a wink and a smile that reminded him so much of his mother he had to wonder if Caroline was a sister in more than the strength of their friendship.
Then she was gone.
* * *
Shameless plug: If you have not already, please go to my website (www.lptvorik.com) and sign up for my mailing list. Also, add lptvorik@gmail.com to your list of lovable email recipients so my newsletter doesn't go to your spam box. If you're a Melody of Silence reader, there's gonna be a lot of announcements as I work on publishing. If you're not you SHOULD be because Nate and Alex are my babies and I love them and you should too.
Again, I'm sorry I suck at updating. Life really is in the toilet right now and I'm all over the place trying to keep up with my job and my crises and my writing. Please bear with me and if you're a purveyor of kind words I wouldn't say no to some compassion. My head is above water but I'm also lowkey pretty sad and discouraged and tired and that's all I'll say about that.
Love!
Liz
* * *