Little Gale Gumbo Read Online Free Page A

cheek against his chest. Matthew couldn’t remember the last time she’d let him this close to her, and he ached with the brevity of it. Grazing her breast when they pulled apart felt almost improper, the idea of lowering his lips to her temple unthinkable. The strange new rules of separation. He hated them.
    Almost as much as he hated getting a ride to the airport in Holly’s architect boyfriend’s precious car.
    â€œOh, great.” Matthew groaned when she opened the back door for Hooper. “The fucking sheet.”
    â€œOh, forget about it,” Holly said, reaching back to tear off the crisp white cover and stuffing it under the seat. Hooper leaped gleefully into the back, brushing his rear against the smooth ivory leather. Matthew swore the dog grinned.
    â€œHe’ll know you took it off,” Matthew said, closing the door and moving around to the passenger side.
    â€œHe won’t. I’ll vacuum out the back.”
    Climbing in, Matthew tugged his seat belt across his chest, shifting his bag between his feet. “I suppose I should just be happy King Peter let you out of the castle for a few hours. I’ll be sure and send him a bouquet of lobsters when I get to the island.”
    â€œPlease don’t do this,” Holly pleaded, her eyes filling as she steered them onto the highway. “Not on top of everything. Not today.”
    â€œIt’s a day like any day,” Matthew said, frowning into the distance. “You used to think my jokes were funny.”
    â€œI don’t feel like laughing right now. I can’t imagine you do either.”
    Matthew studied the horizon, mute. The truth was he didn’t know what he felt like, and in his confusion, laughter seemed as reasonable as tears. His father was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, barely alive after suffering a stroke at the hands of a madman. The harrowing potential of Charles Bergeron’s violence had followed them all for so many years, like the moon through the trees; sometimes you could see it, sometimes you couldn’t, but you always knew it was there.
    The windshield began to fog with Hooper’s panting. Holly pushed at a strip of lit buttons on the dashboard. “God, I hate this car,” she confessed, sniffling. “All these stupid buttons.”
    Matthew reached out and calmly twisted a knob, sending up a rush of warm air. The windshield began to clear.
    â€œThanks.” She swallowed. “Any news from the doctor?”
    Matthew shrugged, watching the traffic. “Nothing. His condition hasn’t changed. And I wasn’t able to reach Dahlia or Josie.”
    â€œThey left a message at the house,” Holly said tightly. “You obviously haven’t told them you moved out.”
    â€œI guess I didn’t see the point, in case . . .” Matthew stopped, meeting Holly’s eyes briefly, hoping she’d finish the sentence for him. When she didn’t, he said, “You could come with me, you know. We could drop Hooper off at Maggie’s.”
    Matthew watched Holly consider his offer, his weak brain flooding quickly with the possibility of her acceptance. Together, so emotionally raw, they’d turn to each other again. Away from that architect, that builder of bullshit, Matthew could remind Holly of their love, of what had brought them together, instead of always talking about what had driven them apart.
    But the island wasn’t theirs; it never had been. Little Gale belonged only to him and the sisters, and that plain and cold fact had been made clear to Holly within minutes of her first and only visit.
    As the silence lingered, Matthew knew she would decline. Finally, Holly sighed. “You know I would if I could,” she said. “But work is crazy right now. Especially with Connie out on maternity leave.”
    Matthew frowned reflexively. Even in the blur of his grief, he felt the same sting he always did in the wake of a