Page 2 of The Banned Books Club
“It’s deer hunting season. I assume he’s going.”
“Next week.”
And what will you do—stay home and take care of the kids and the house while he’s gone?Gia wanted to ask, but this time she managed to bite her tongue. “He’s going to Utah again?”
“Yeah. They go there every year. One of his buddies grew up in Moab.”
“Last winter, Sheldon’s business slowed down a bit, so I’m surprised to hear you say he’s been busy.”
“That was the economy in general. All trucking companies took a hit. I don’t think the same thing’s going to happen this year, though. He just bought two new semis and is hiring more drivers.”
“He’s quite the businessman.” Gia rolled her eyes at her own words. He hadn’t built the trucking business; he’d inherited it from his parents, who remained heavily involved, which was probably what saved it from ruin. But thankfully, Margot seemed to take her words at face value.
“I’m proud of him.”
He was proud of himself, could never stop talking about his company, his toys, his prowess at hunting or four-wheeling or any other “manly” pursuit. Gia was willing to bet she could out-hunt him if she really wanted to, but the only kind of shots she was willing to take were with her camera.
Still, she was glad, in a way, that her sister could buy into the delusion that Sheldon was a prize catch. “That’s what matters,” she said as she pulled into the drive of her two-bedroom condo overlooking Mill River. The conversation was winding down. She’d already asked about the boys while she was in the grocery store—they were healthy and happy. She was going to have to ask about Ida before the conversation ended, so she figured she might as well get it over with. “And how are Mom and Dad?”
Her sister’s voice dropped an octave, at least. “That’s actually why I called...”
Gia couldn’t help but tense; it felt like acid was eating a hole in her stomach. “Mom’s taken a turn for the worse?”
“She’s getting weaker every day, G. I—I really think you should come home.”
Closing her eyes, Gia allowed her head to fall back against the seat. Margot couldn’t understand why Gia would resist. But she’d never been able to see anything from Gia’s perspective.
“G?” her sister prompted.
Gia drew a deep breath. She could leave Idaho a few weeks before they closed the business. Eric would cover for her. She’d worked two entire months for him when his daughter was born. She had the money, too. There was no good excuse not to return and support her family as much as possible—and if this was the end, to say goodbye to her mother. But Gia knew that would mean dealing with everything she’d left behind.
“You still there?”
Gathering her resolve, Gia climbed out of the car. “Sorry. My Bluetooth cut out.”
“Did you hear me? Is there any chance you’d consider coming home, if only for a few weeks?”
Gia didn’t see that she had any choice. She’d never forgive herself if her mother died and she hadn’t done all she could to put things right between them. She wished she could continue procrastinating her visit. But the cancer made it impossible. “Of course. Just...just as soon as I finish up a few things around here.”
“How long will that take you?”
“Only a day or two.”
“Thank God,” her sister said with enough relief that Gia knew she couldn’t back out now.
What was going on? Why would having her in Wakefield matter so much to Margot?
“I’ll pick you up from the airport,” her sister continued. “Just tell me when you get in.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve made the arrangements.”
Margot studied the guns neatly lined up in her husband’s locked cabinet in their bedroom. He had several rifles—a .30-30 Winchester, a Remington Model 700, a .375 H&H Magnum, a .22 and what he called a “varmint” rifle—as well as a twelve-gauge shotgun. He also had a 9 mm Glock up high in their closet for home defense. That was what he’d leave behind when he went hunting. She’d have easy access to it, but it was the shotgun she coveted. She’d feel safest with the shotgun. She’d heard her husband say that pistols and rifles almost always take multiple shots to hit a target. They’d visited the gun range together, but because of the recoil and the deafening noise—and her fear of guns in general, especially having them around the children—she’d only practiced shooting once or twice. After that, Sheldon had deemed her a “nervous Nellie” and given up trying to share his love of firearms with her. But she’d learned enough to know she wouldn’t have to worry too much about aiming a shotgun.
Did she dare hide the shotgun so he couldn’t take it with him when he went hunting? She could act as though someone had broken in and taken it, say she’d left the house unlocked for a short, fifteen-minute interval while picking up the boys from school, and it was gone when she returned...
No. That would raise his suspicions. He’d wonder why that was the only thing missing, and she didn’t dare try to stage a full-fledged robbery. It would be too easy to get caught doing something like that. Sheldon was naturally suspicious—always looking out for how someone might put one over on him. With any luck, he wouldn’t seethiscoming, but she could only count on having one chance, which meant she had to craft the perfect plan, and that included providing for every eventuality.
Maybe she should forget about the shotgun and the Glock and settle for pepper spray or mace—something she could buy over the counter at Walmart. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about gun safety and would never be faced with the decision of whether or not she’d have to shoot her own husband...
