on death row for nearly a year, and had just gotten a call from the governor’s office.
Parker sat forward, linked his fingers on the green felt desk blotter. “What makes you think that’ll happen?”
He looked around the room and focused on Parker’s medical degrees, framed in black, hanging on the wall behind the desk. “Just—things…”
“The subconscious mind is a strange and miraculous thing, Drew, m’boy. Gabby didn’t go back to her apartment in Livingston after that knock on the noodle. She came straight back to the Walking C. What does that tell you?”
He grunted and scowled. “That she’s lost her ever-lovin’ mind?”
Chuckling, Parker aimed a stubby forefinger at Drew. “No need to act all brave and bad for the likes of me. I’m the man who stitched up your knobby knees when you were knee-high to a gopher, set your broken arm before you were ten. Gabrielle went to the Walking C ’cause, in her heart, that ranch is her home.”
A man can hope, Drew thought. Gabrielle had considered it home, until—
What had happened that night snaked through his mind, making him grimace. Right now, he’d give anything to undo what he’d done, or, at the very least, find a way to do it differently.
Gabrielle breezed into the room before Drew had a chance to verbalize his fears to Parker. “Why the long faces?” she asked. Grinning and wiggling her eyebrows, she added, “I’m not dying or anything, am I?”
Dying! The very thought made Drew’s heart beat double-time. He got to his feet. “Honestly, Gabby,” he complained, scowling, “sometimes your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”
Her gray eyes widened and her smile dimmed. “Sawree,” she said emphatically. One hand beside her mouth, she aimed a loud whisper at Parker. “I take it you just gave him the bill?”
“No, he didn’t,” Drew answered in the doctor’s stead. Then added, “Why do you always tie everything to money?”
Lips narrowed, she raised her left eyebrow. “Maybe,” she began, hands on her hips, “because money is always on your mind!”
Now there’s the Gabrielle who left months ago, Drew said to himself.
“Now, now,” the doctor interrupted, hands raised in mock surrender. “Bickering isn’t going to do any of us any good, me in particular, since I’m such a sensitive soul and all.”
Drew shot him a Who do you think you’re kidding? look and said, “If there’s nothing else, I guess we’ll be on our way.” He thought of the fully saddled horses and groaned inwardly. “I have things to tend to when I get home.”
Gabrielle hung all eight fingertips from her bottom teeth. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, “Triumph and Chum!”
Her anguish immediately diminished Drew’s ire. “Like I said before, they’re big ‘n’ strong—spoiled rotten, for the most part. It won’t kill them to wear their saddles a while longer, just this once.”
It did his heart good to see that his words eased her distress some. Maybe, if she were home to stay, he’d get a chance to find out what in blue blazes made her so all-fired hard on herself all the time.
Drew pressed a palm against the small of Gabrielle’s back to lead her out of Doc Parker’s office. The action reminded him of their wedding night, when he’d guided her in the very same way into their penthouse suite at that fancy hotel in Helena. Gritting his teeth, he touched a forefinger to the brim of his Stetson and snapped off a cowboy salute.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Glad to be of service,” the older gent said as he walked them to the door. “Now, remember what I told you in the examining room, Gabby—take it easy for the next few days. And Drew, don’t forget to—”
“I put fresh batteries in the flashlight just this morning,” he assured. “And I’ll set the alarm for the checkups.”
He wondered how long it would be before she asked him to explain that last part of his conversation with Parker, and counted the seconds as they crossed the parking lot: five, four—as he opened the passenger door—three, two—as he helped her inside—one—
“Checkups?” she asked. “What kind of checkups?”
She was so intent on the question, and its answer, that she didn’t seem to notice that he’d fastened the seat belt for her. “You’re welcome,” he teased, grinning.
A glance at her furrowed brow told him Gabrielle hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. He slid in behind the steering wheel and poked the key into the ignition. “Doc says that for the next day and a half, I have to check your eyes every hour on the hour. If your pupils don’t constrict when the flashlight beam hits them, or if they’re not the same size, it’ll mean trouble, and I’m to get you to the hospital, stat.” He didn’t tell her the part about CAT scans and MRIs. No sense worrying her.
“Hospital? T-trouble?” she repeated, long lashes fluttering. “You mean—you mean as in…brain damage?”
Drew shook his head. The likelihood of that, Doc Parker had assured him, was slim to none. Drew’s main objective was to keep her calm. “I’m a little concerned about something—”
“Concerned?” She turned on the seat to face him. “Concerned about what?”
“Well…” he drawled.
She held her face in her hands. “Arghh, you can be so exasperating sometimes!”
“Doc never said how I’m supposed to tell the difference.”
“Difference? What difference? Drew, honestly, you’re giving me a headache.”
“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. Drew gave her hand a pat, then pulled into traffic.
“The difference?” she encouraged, as he merged into the fast lane.
“Between the crazy way you used to act and the way you’ve been behaving since you thumped your head.”
Her steely eyed glare was softened by a playful smile. “You’d better watch it, Drew Cunningham, or you’re going to be spending your two-month anniversary night on the couch!”
Drew stared straight ahead. Again with the two months, he thought.
If that was the case, the Almighty had answered his prayers. He’d given Drew a second chance, an opportunity to make it up to Gabrielle for the dreadful thing he’d done.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed, and I promise not to blow it this time.
Gabrielle insisted that Drew let her light the candles; he insisted she let him carry the lasagna-filled ironstone pan to the table. He served it up, as she held out the plates. And as the delicious aroma of the steaming pasta wafted into their nostrils, he wrapped her hand in his and uttered a short but heartfelt grace.
“Dear Lord, thank you for all our blessings, for this food, for the beautiful woman who prepared it.” He gave her hand
