Little Gale Gumbo Read Online Free

there for eighteen years. That’s practically a lifetime.”
    He looked at Dahlia. “So when was the last time either of you had contact with him?”
    Dahlia’s foot bounced nervously, her plastic clog hanging loose and smacking against her heel. “I don’t remember,” she said.
    â€œYes, you do, Dahl,” Josie said, sniffling. “Daddy called the café a few times after Momma died.”
    Jack frowned. “So your father knew Camille had died?”
    â€œBen insisted on sending a letter to the prison,” Josie said. “We told him he didn’t have to, but he said it was the right thing to do.” She smiled weakly. “You know Ben.”
    â€œAnd who talked to Charles when he called the café those times?”
    Josie shook her head. “Nobody. We never accepted the charges.” She shaped a tissue into a point and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I suppose we should have,” she said. “Even just once. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so mad when he got out; you think?”
    She looked up at Jack with moist, yearning eyes. He gave her an absolving smile.
    â€œI don’t think a few phone calls would have made much difference, Jo,” he said gently.
    She smiled, sniffling again. “You’re probably right.”
    In the silence, Dahlia stole a look at Jack, wondering suddenly whether he’d done the same.
    Josie molded a new tissue around her nose and blew.
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    â€œYou just couldn’ t help yourself, could you?” Josie said, following Dahlia into the parking lot ten minutes later. “We’re in there talking about Daddy almost killing Ben and you decide it’s the perfect time to take a cheap shot at Jack.”
    â€œHe’s the one with the grudge, not me.”
    â€œGod, you’re a pill,” Josie said, seeing the Buick parked at the far end of the lot. “In case you’ve forgotten, Jack’s divorced now. So maybe you might want to stop raking the poor man over the coals and just admit that you still have feelings for him.”
    Dahlia released the knot of her curls, shaking them out. “We’re not talking about this anymore.”
    â€œFine.”
    They reached the station wagon and found Wayne waiting in the driver’s seat, his eyes tired under the shadow of the car’s peeling visor.
    â€œThat’s done then,” Wayne said when they’d climbed in, Josie in the front, Dahlia in the back. The sisters didn’t answer, and Wayne pulled them out into the street, steering them through the village and past the wharf.
    Stopped at the blinking light at Main and Chestnut, they waited for Helen Ingersoll to push her newborn across the street in a pale pink stroller.
    Dahlia looked away, dread skidding down her legs.
    â€œIt’s strange,” Josie said softly. “I still wonder sometimes what it would be like if you hadn’t lost the baby.”
    Dahlia looked up to see Wayne’s eyes in the rearview mirror, hard on hers, the familiar flash of panic she’d come to know so well in the years since their pact.
    She turned to the window as the prickle of tears climbed her throat, and finally the light turned green.

Four

    Miami, Florida
    Friday, June 14, 2002
    11:20 a.m.
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    The black BMW was parked against the curb when Matthew came out of his apartment with a duffel bag and his nine-year-old golden retriever, Hooper. Holly stepped out of the car wearing a white tank and linen pants, her straight blond hair pulled back into a smooth knot. Even from far away, Matthew could tell she’d been crying.
    Seeing Holly, the dog lunged, pulling free of Matthew’s grip on his leash and galloping down the sidewalk. Holly knelt down to accept the dog’s lapping kisses, then stood to greet Matthew. When he reached her, she slipped her arms around him before he could say a word and pressed her