Though he had no idea how her work measured up to the accepted standards—whatever they were—he liked everything he saw.
The framed black-and-white photographs were of people rather than the places and things Ethan had seemed to favor, an old man asleep in a rocking chair on the porch of a dilapidated old house; a group of young women, two cradling babies in their arms, one holding the hand of a toddler, another hugely pregnant, all seeming to be laughing and talking at once; a young couple standing on a balcony, gazing at each other with a longing that tugged at Gabriel’s heart.
On the table, interspersed with another half-dozen black-and-white photos were several color prints including the ones of birds Brian had mentioned and several market scenes so vibrant, Gabriel expected the people in them to glance up at him and speak.
To one side, he also saw a folder. Curious, he reached over, opened it and stared, in sudden dismay, at the four black-and-white photographs that slid onto the table.
A man...his cheeks hollow, his body emaciated, a haunted expression on his face as he leaned against a palm tree and looked out at the waves washing against a sandy beach. A dying man...a man who reminded him of...Ethan—
“Oh, God,” Gabriel muttered, running his fingers over one of the photographs as if his touch on its glossy surface could somehow comfort the brother he had both loved and hated.
He hadn’t known...hadn’t known—
With a thunk, Madelyn set the mugs on the table, then reached out to gather up the folder and the photographs it had held. She hadn’t meant for Gabriel to see them. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that she had left the folder on the table.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” she murmured. “I should have put those away. They’re...personal.”
He caught her hand with surprising strength, and though he didn’t hurt her, he held her still.
“They’re of Ethan, aren’t they?” he asked, his gaze still fixed on the photographs, both pain and anger evident in his voice.
“Yes.”
She eyed the photographs, as well, her heart aching for Gabriel. Regardless of what had come between him and his brother, he had never stopped caring about Ethan. But had Ethan known that?
Madelyn could only hope so.
“When were they taken?” Gabriel prodded.
“A few days before he died.”
Ethan hadn’t been aware of her, lurking nearby, camera in hand. Had he been, he would have never allowed her to photograph him. And normally, Madelyn would have never considered intruding on his privacy without permission.
Even now, she wasn’t quite sure what had prompted her to ignore her own code of conduct by taking those pictures on the sly. But she had been glad she had. At least until a few moments ago when she’d seen how they affected Gabriel.
“I never realized he was so sick,” Gabriel said, glancing at her with growing bewilderment.
Madelyn didn’t really want to tell him the truth about Ethan’s illness. All that would do was add to his anguish. But if she tried to put him off, he would wonder what she was hiding, and more than likely, press her even harder.
Sooner or later, he would wring it out of her. So why cause him more upset in the process? After all, as Ethan’s brother, he did have a right to know. And having seen the photographs, he was already somewhat prepared for what she would say.
Still, hoping to spare him the very worst, Madelyn chose her words carefully. She told Gabriel the barest facts about the virus Ethan had contracted years ago and the resultant blindness and creeping paralysis that had slowly but surely sapped him of his vitality.
“When did he start having problems?” Gabriel asked when she halted her recitation.
“About three or four months after I went to work for him, his vision began to fail. The paralysis started to affect him about six months ago. By the time he died, he was almost completely blind, was tiring more and more easily, but he could still get around on his own most days.”
Gabriel had already let go of her. Now he turned. walked to the fireplace and rested his forearm against the narrow strip of wood that served as a mantel.
“But he was supposed to be in Honduras on an assignment when he died. How would it have been possible for him to continue taking high-quality photographs if he was going blind?” he demanded. “Or was that really why you had him down there, Ms. St. James?”
Madelyn couldn’t blame Gabriel for being suspicious, but that didn’t make his questioning any less painful for her to bear.
She had begged Ethan not to go, but he had been insistent. So insistent that she had fully believed he would go without her. Looking back, she now realized he could have been planning to make Roatán his last stop here on earth, even then. But she wasn’t about to try to explain that to Gabriel.
She would rather allow him to believe what he wanted about her than so much as hint at the possibility that Ethan might have committed suicide.
“Ethan arranged for us to go to Honduras,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And, as had been the case for more than a year, I took the photographs he then sold under his name.”
Facing her again, a frown furrowing his forehead, Gabriel studied her for several seconds.
Uncomfortable under his probing gaze, Madelyn turned her attention to the photos of Ethan, finally gathering them into the folder again.
“You let him use you like that?” Gabriel asked at last, his voice filled with dismay.
“I never felt that he was using me,” she retorted defensively. “He taught me more than I could have ever learned on my own or from anyone else. He also gave me an opportunity to work at something I truly enjoy. And I was paid much better than most novices are. Without his name on the photographs, none of that would have been possible.”
“Ah, so you used him, going along with whatever he wanted to keep your job instead of seeing to it that he got the medical attention he so obviously needed,” Gabriel drawled, his manner taking an accusatorial turn. “Considering your reward, I suppose that wasn’t such a difficult course of action, was it?”
Her first instinct was to grab one of the coffee mugs and hurl it at him. But she refused to let him know just how deeply he had angered her. Giving any credence at all to what he had implied was beneath her dignity.
“Believe whatever you want, Mr. Serrano, but Ethan was an adult. He made his own choices. I did what I could for him, especially when it became obvious he was having a harder and harder time looking after himself.
“Unfortunately, I had no idea he had a half brother who cared about him as you seem to have. Otherwise, I would have contacted you. Maybe you would have been able to talk some sense into him. Then again, maybe not. As for me, I did the best I could with what I had without any expectation of a reward.”
Averting her gaze, Madelyn tucked the folder under her arm, then picked up the coffee mugs and moved calmly toward the little kitchen. She’d had just about all she could take from Gabriel for one night. She could only hope he would take the hint and show himself to the door.
“I’m sorry, Ms. St. James. I was way out of line,” he said.
The touch of his hand on her arm halted her in midstep.
“I thought I had dealt with Ethan’s death, but hearing about it in a matter-of-fact way and actually seeing how much he suffered are two different things,” he continued, his voice strained. “I realize that I reacted badly, jumping to the wrong conclusions, blaming you when you weren’t the one at fault.”
“No one was at fault, except maybe Ethan, and if so, it was his mistake to make,” she replied, not wanting Gabriel to shoulder a burden that wasn’t really his to bear, either. “He lived his life the way he wanted, and he faced death in a similar manner—on his terms.”
“How was he toward the end?”
Hesitating, Madelyn glanced over her shoulder at Gabriel. The probing look in his dark eyes spoke volumes. He needed her reassurance that Ethan hadn’t really been as bad off as the images in her photographs suggested
. And she could give it—by hedging just a little.
For Gabriel’s sake, and for her own, she wouldn’t reveal how sad and alone Ethan had seemed those last few weeks on Roatán. She didn’t want Gabriel to dwell on the possibility that Ethan might have committed suicide any more than she wanted to herself. Nor did she want Gabriel to wonder, as she did herself, if she might have been able to prevent it happening if she had only read the signs correctly.
“He was as full of the devil as ever,” she said, smiling slightly. “Ordering me around just like always.”
Gabriel nodded, his gaze softening.
“I have a feeling you were good for him.”
“We were good for each other,” Madelyn replied.
“I’m glad...for both of you.”
“So am I.”
“Well, I’ve stayed longer than I planned.” Turning away, Gabriel walked to the door, took his jacket off the peg and put it on, then added, “I wish I’d had better news for you.”
“Maybe next time,” she said, forcing herself to smile brightly.
“Yeah, maybe next time.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“I said I would,” he reminded her.
“Yes, you did,” Madelyn agreed, wincing inwardly at how grateful she must have sounded.
Even though his only reason for visiting her had to do with the settlement of Ethan’s estate, she had been looking forward to seeing him all day. As the evening had worn on, and he had failed to show up, she’d begun to think he had either forgotten or found something better to do.
Which was exactly what she should try to do, she thought. Find something better to occupy her time than waiting for Gabriel Serrano. Pinning any kind of hope at all on him—especially the hope for companionship—was bound to end in disappointment.
From the first, he had been all too eager to think the worst of her, and apparently, he still was. He had misjudged her yet again where her relationship with Ethan was concerned. And while he had backed off, she doubted that was the last time she would have to defend herself to him.
“I’ll call Henry Martin first thing in the morning. When shall I tell him to expect you?”
“Thursday morning, say around eleven o’clock?”
“Sounds good to me,” Gabriel replied as he opened the door. “If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know tomorrow evening. Otherwise, plan to be at the gallery on Thursday at eleven. Oh, and be sure to take the framed black-and-white photographs and the market scenes with you. They’re very good.”
“Thanks. I will.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Gabriel stepped outside, pulling the door closed after him with a quiet click.
Madelyn stood there a few moments longer with what was surely a silly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her pleasure at the way he’d complimented her work was all out of proportion, but she allowed herself to bask in it anyway.
Finally she continued on her way into the kitchen, emptied the mugs and set them in the sink. Then, before she could forget again and leave the folder out, she crossed to the sleeping area and tucked it under the pile of sweaters she had folded into one of the dresser drawers.
Back in the living area, she added several pieces of wood to the now-smoldering fire, retrieved the leftover brownies and returned them to the cookie tin in the kitchen.
That done, she glanced at her watch. Just after ten. She should be feeling tired. She had been out most of the day, applying to do substitute teaching, then learning her way around town on foot. Instead, she was oddly restless. And the cottage she usually considered cozy suddenly seemed claustrophobic.
What she needed was a nice, brisk walk. The cold night air would clear her head of maudlin thoughts, and the added exercise would surely tire her out.
She wouldn’t go far, she decided, taking her long, black wool coat from the closet. While it had seemed safe enough to wander around Santa Fe on her own in broad daylight, she knew that a woman alone in any town faced a much greater likelihood of running into trouble after dark. Especially when she was still unfamiliar with the area.
Locking the door after her, Madelyn paused just outside the cottage, allowing her eyes to adjust to the moonlit night. Across the courtyard, the house was dark. Evidently, Gabriel wasn’t having any trouble sleeping, she thought with the barest hint of resentment.
Oh, that she could be that inured to him.
Annoyed with herself, she strode down the driveway. At the sidewalk, she turned right, heading away from town, choosing to stay in the residential area. That way, if she had a problem, she could go to one of the houses lining the street and ask for help.
Although the sidewalk angled uphill, and she wasn’t quite used to the altitude yet, Madelyn-managed to keep up her pace. No one else seemed to be about, and except for the muted thud of her sneakers on concrete, all was quiet.
She had gone about half a mile or so when she suddenly realized she was no longer alone. Without breaking stride, she glanced down at the little dog gamely keeping pace with her, and frowned.
She had no idea where the creature had come from. Maybe one of the houses along her route. Or maybe not, she reconsidered, slowing to a halt and gazing down at...him, she realized as the animal lifted one leg, marked a tree, then sat on its haunches, gazing up at her expectantly.
He was shaped a lot like a dachshund—long body with short, stubby legs. But he had a blunt nose and a docked tail. And his brown-and-white-and-gray coat was a scraggly mass of wiry curls. He didn’t seem to be starving. However, he didn’t appear to be well fed, either. And he wasn’t wearing a collar.
“Well, hello,” she said, not quite sure what to do next.
He wagged his little tail ever so slightly and scooted a few inches closer.
“Where do you live?”
As if giving her question serious consideration, he cocked his head to one side and his short, floppy ears perked up.
“Come on, then. Let’s see if we can find your house,” Madelyn said.
She turned and started back the way she’d come, and he readily fell into step beside her. At the first driveway, she stopped and pointed toward the house.
“Go home, boy. Go home.”
He stood, looking up at her, obviously confused.
“Okay. Wrong house.”
She started off again, then stopped at the next driveway, and the next, and the next, each time repeating her “go home” routine. And each time, the little dog set off with her once more until they reached the cottage.
“All right, you’re lost,” she admitted. “And there’s nothing more we can do about it tonight.”
With the temperature already below freezing, Madelyn also decided it was too cold to make him stay outside. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the cottage, and after only a moment’s hesitation, gestured for the dog to do likewise. He scampered across the threshold, then sat, gazing up at her inquisitively.
In the light of the lamp she’d left burning, she could see that he was in worse shape than she had thought. One of his ears had a nasty cut on it, and his coat was matted with bits of dirt and dried leaves.
“You’re a mess, aren’t you?”
Cocking his head to one side, he whined softly, as if in apology.
“A bath first,” Madelyn stated as she hung up her coat and headed for the bathroom.
The dog trailed after her, sniffing the air hopefully. Aware that he must be hungry, she paused beside the bathtub and bent to scratch his head.
“Then a bowl of leftover stew,” she promised.
To her relief, the animal put up no fuss at all when she lifted him into the tub—hatf-filled with warm water—and bathed him with her herbal shampoo. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the attention, cuddling in her lap afterward as she toweled him off, then used her blow-dryer, set on low, to finish his grooming.
Cleaned up, he looked kind of cute. And it took no urging at all to get him to eat the stew she offered him. He licked the bowl clean—peas,
carrots, potatoes and all—took a long drink of water from another bowl, then trotted over to the door and yipped politely to be let out.
Wondering if he would take off now that he had been fed, Madelyn opened the door for him. But he did his business quickly, then trotted back inside without any urging. In fact, as she closed and locked the door again, he made a beeline for her bed, managed to hop onto it despite his short stature, and proceeded to curl up on the comforter.
Not having the heart to shoo him off, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, changed into her nightgown, then crawled under the covers. Within moments, he had crept up to snuggle by her side.
Reaching out to stroke his silky head, Madelyn smiled slightly. For the first time since arriving in Santa Fe, a sense of contentment settled over her. Caring for the little dog had taken her mind off her own problems. Not only had she felt useful, but also appreciated. And the loneliness that had nagged at her a little more with each passing day suddenly seemed to have dissipated.
Too bad he was someone else’s pet, as he surely had to be. She could have gotten used to having him around. But whoever owned him would want him back. And it would be up to her to help him find his way home.
In the morning, she would take him out again and see if she could find someone who recognized him. If that failed, she would put up a note on the bulletin board at the library—the acknowledged information center regarding most happenings around town.
And if he still went unclaimed?
Madelyn wasn’t sure what she would do. She doubted Gabriel would allow her to keep him. He didn’t have a dog of his own, so he probably preferred not to have one around.
But she wouldn’t worry about that tonight. She would enjoy her good fortune, such as it was.
Easing him closer, she bent and nuzzled his furry neck. He sighed deeply, evidently as pleased as she that they had stumbled upon one another.
He might only be a little lost dog. but he had helped to restore her flagging self-confidence. With that, she could get through the coming weeks, head held high, regardless of what Gabriel Serrano chose to believe about her.
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