A Thin Line (52 page)

Gabe stoked the fire in the kitchen fireplace until it was almost a roaring inferno.
 
Breaking into a sweat, he removed his superfine and waistcoat.
 
He untied the cravat and took off the collar, then draped all the items on one of the remaining kitchen chairs.
 
Then Gabe took a fortifying breath and returned to the first room where he had taken his wife.

The bed had been stripped, and the bloodied sheets and towels were piled in the corner of the room.
 
Gabe picked them up and carried them into the kitchen.
 
Mack quietly slipped out of the house in order to give Gabe privacy.
 
Gabe slowly fed the items into the fire exorcising himself of the events of the afternoon.
 
Yes, he mourned the child, what could have been, but deep inside himself he knew it happened for a reason, and he would trust God in that.
 
He remained infinitely grateful that he hadn’t lost Kala as well.
 
However, what did anger him was that Kala refused to talk, to let him talk.
 
He had promised himself he would say certain things when he found her, and Kala had refused to listen, damn her.

He watched the last of the material burn to ash and sat there until only smoldering coals remained.
 
After he removed his boots, he walked softly down the hall to check on Kala.
 
She
 
slept soundly. One of her hands lay fisted next to her cheek and her lips glistened in the firelight.
 
She wasn’t just beautiful, she had an earthiness about her that compelled men to look at her and take notice.

His poor wife had been through so much in her young life.
 
He silently sent up a prayer that soon she would be able to find some peace.
 
Gabe would do anything to make her happy, even if that meant letting her go.
 
Never would he marry or even find someone that would make him half as happy as Kala did.
 
Yes, she tried his patience to no end, but that was part of the joy.
 
They tested each other, challenged one another, and yes, now that he realized it—loved one another.
   

The fire still burned cheerily, belying the darkness that had fallen over the house.
 
Not wanting to disturb her and not knowing if he would be welcome, Gabe walked across the room and lowered himself to the floor.
 
He absently rubbed at his shoulder.
 
He watched his wife from a distance, ready if she needed him.
 

***

A sharp rapping noise sounded at the door.
 
The man blew out the cigar smoke into circles and watched them dissipate into the air.
 
He loved a fine brandy with a cigar to end the evening.
 
This part of the evening took the edge off of the fact that he had come up empty handed in the search for the Holy Grail.
 
Glastonbury Tor had been the last of several possible places it could be on this god-forsaken island, and it had come to naught.
 

True, he had not found the object Napoleon had most wanted, but he had tried.
 
France beckoned to him every day.
 
He could not wait to return to the land of his mother.
 
How he hated these priggish Brits.
 
They were people who cared more about society than living.
 
And live he would do, once he returned to France.
 
Napoleon had promised him much if he went on this quest for him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
 
“What is it?” He called abruptly.

“Pardon, my lord.
 
There is a gentleman here to see you.
 
A Mr. Price.”

“Send him in,” the man’s feet dropped abruptly from his desk to the floor with a loud thud.
 
A man in dark clothing entered the room, nervously turning a hat in his hands.
 
“Welcome Mr. Price.
 
Can I get you something?”

“No, my lord.
 
I just came to tell you, Her Grace has been found.”

“Has she indeed?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Cheddar, my lord.”

“Really?
 
I was so close to her,” he mused quietly.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.
 
I believe I owe you one hundred pounds.”

“Thank you, sir.
 
I’m not sure I did the right thing, y’know, but me family needs the blunt.”

“There, there.
 
You did the right thing,” the man soothed.
 
He opened a desk drawer and took out a pouch of money.
 
“What do you think you are doing?” He demanded, a little fear creeping into his voice.

“What?” The man asked startled.

“No, I’ll give you the money, just take it.”

“My lord, what are you. . .” a loud pop cut off the man’s words.
 
He fell lifelessly to the ground, his blood spilling onto the Turkish carpet, marring its beauty.

“Sorry, old man,” the man said calmly.

“My lord, what happened?” The servant who had seen the dead man in came running upon hearing the gunshot.

“The man was robbing me, threatened my life.
 
Call the magistrate.
 
Tell him to come at once.
 
I have business I need to attend to elsewhere.”
 
After the butler left, he took a swallow of brandy and chased it with a puff from the cigar.
 
Yes, it was truly a heady combination.

Chapter 38

Gabe stirred to a soft tap at the door.
 
With eyes bleary from sleep, he stumbled his way across the bedroom.
 
Mrs. Fisher stood on the other side of the door when he opened it.
 
He saw her two young sons with Mack in the living area.

“How is Mrs. Hawke?”

“Sleeping, I think.
 
I fell asleep.”

“I’ll check on her, make certain she’s on the mend.
 
Boys, behave.”

“Yes, mum,” the boys replied in unison, somewhat subdued.
 
The four looked at each other awkwardly for a few minutes.
 
Men of any age were not good with emotions and these had shared several trying moments the previous day.

“Thank you for taking care of Kala,” Gabe finally said.

Nate merely nodded.
 
Tommy, however, felt the need to talk.
 

“She’s more fun than any of the girls we know.
 
We took her hiking up the gorge and showed her the hidden caves and the waterfall.
 
And she wasn’t scared of the heights.”

“When did you take her to do this?”

“Before she got sick.”

“I see,” he said quietly.
 
“What all did you do?”
 
Tommy exuberantly confirmed her recklessness, telling him how they crawled about from one hidden room to another.
 
They had lost their child because of her inexcusable actions.
 
Anger and hurt boiled inside him fighting for an outlet.

“Mrs. Hawke is well on the mend physically, but appears exhausted.
 
She refused food and didn’t want to talk.”

“Mikala can be stubborn,” Gabe said stiffly.

“If you say so,” Mrs. Fisher replied.
 
She pointed to the baskets her and the boys had carried into the house.
 
“We brought food.
 
It should be fine as it is and will last several meals.
 
Should you need anything, come and get me.
 
I’ll check in on her tomorrow.”

“You are too kind, Mrs. Fisher,” he said tightly.
 

“Hawke, don’t say anything you will regret,” Mack interjected.

“She was reckless.”

“She was being herself.”

“It must stop.”

“I am going to give you two some privacy.
 
I will be staying at an inn in the village should you need me.”

Once everyone left he shut and bolted the door to make certain they would not be disturbed.
 
He strode back to the room that Kala now occupied.
 
She lay on her side, back to the door.
 
“Did you or did you not go climbing that damn gorge the same day you lost our child?
 
Crawling in and out of tight places like you were still a child?”
 
He walked around the bed to see her face when she failed to answer him.
 
“Answer me, dammit.”

“Yes,” she said stoically.
 
No emotion entered her voice.

“Damn you, Kala, and damn your thoughtlessness,” he bit out before leaving the room and the cottage.

“Yes,” she whispered softly, a lone tear escaped down her cheek.

***

The two spent the next few days acting like strangers.
 
They moved around the small cottage, but barely spoke to each other.
 
Gabe couldn’t let go of the anger he felt, and Kala’s guilt ate her alive.
 
In a matter of hours after the confrontation, she had become a shadow of herself.
 
No longer was she the strong, independent woman she had once so prided herself as being.
 
For the first time in her life she felt vulnerable.
 
Not even when she lost her sight had she felt this way.

Every time she closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep, she would see a baby.
 
The baby’s face would somehow morph into Gabe’s accusing one.
 
Alternately and as one they would accuse her of being selfish, of murdering her own child.
 
Every time Mikala would jolt awake, crying.
 
She found herself exhausted both physically and mentally.

Mikala sat in her old room in the cottage, gazing out the window, not really seeing the world outside. The room had once more been set to rights, all evidence of the tragedy gone.
 
She had moved back to this room so that Gabriel could have the larger bed.
 
For the first time in their marriage, while being in the same house, they slept in separate rooms.
 
Mikala felt their marriage was well and truly over.

Inside, she felt as if she were slowly suffocating.
 
She quickly changed into the pants she wore when she went exploring with the boys, depression swamped her as she discovered they now fit.
 
She slipped on her shirt.
 
Mikala tiptoed across the hall and took Gabe’s superfine before she slipped on her boots.
 
Wanting to avoid her estranged husband, she quickly climbed out the window, and followed the path to the gorge.
 
The gorge had been calling to her for several days.
 
Perhaps she would be able to exorcise her demons.

Because she left the house from the rear, she missed the riders that approached the house.
 
The men disembarked from their mounts and tied them to low-hanging branches.
 
The cottage’s door opened to reveal a haggard looking man.
 
His dark hair lay disheveled and he needed a good shave.
 
A hardness that had been missing since his marriage to Mikala had returned ten-fold.
 
Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he looked unwelcoming.

“What happened to you?” Derek asked his best friend.

“What are you doing here?” Gabe asked instead of answering.

“Your grandmother,” Richard injected.

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“She had not heard from you or your
brother
,” Derek went on.
 
“She’s very worried.
 
She sent for us.”

“Kala is sequestered in her room.
 
All is fine, so feel free to return to your wives.
 
Good day, gentlemen.”
 
He tried to close the door on them, but was halted by a booted foot between the door and the frame.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Derek said calmly, his easy-going manner replaced with a stern look.
 
He pushed the door open, allowing Richard and himself to enter the cottage’s front room.
 
“Now, what is going on and why is Kala sequestered?”

“I really would rather not talk about it.”

“That’s too bad.
 
You’re my best friend and she’s my sister. Either way, I don’t see where you have many options but to talk about it.”

Richard had found a chair and sat quietly in the corner observing the two men.
 
Derek was about to demand Gabe answer him once more when Richard quietly broke in, “Is Mikala all right?”

“I guess.
 
She isn’t talking to me right now.”

“Are you talking to her?”

“No.”

“What did she do?”

“I would rather not discuss it.”