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So, does that mean he’s lying? That he lied about Gerald Gibson? Is there even a Gerald Gibson?
But if Gerald Gibson does exist and if Julia went to him after seeing me at the theater, then what he’s saying is true. Because she claimed to only have discovered the truth about Carlton’s connection to Danny Gibson in the last day or two.
If she’s lying about that, then she was involved in Christian’s death. In the attempt on my life. Because it wasn’t an accident. I think some part of me always knew that.
I shake my head and doodle in a corner of the page. She and Jericho have one thing in common. They both think I’m a good person. But I get the feeling when they say that what they mean is that I’m not very smart. Because I know the level Jericho is playing at. And if Julia’s playing on the same field, well, I am nothing more than a pawn to them both. And the knowledge hurts.
The door opens then, startling me, and I turn to find Jericho exhaling when he sees me. He smiles as if relieved and I sit up, close the notebook.
“There you are,” he says.
“What did you think? That I ran away?”
He raises his chin just a hair at my comment and steps inside, closing the door behind him.
“With all the guards on the property I doubt I’d get to the front gate.”
He walks to my pew, lifts my legs and sits down beside me. He’s hooking my legs over his lap and looking straight ahead at Christian’s photo and the candle burning on the altar.
“Do you want to run away?” he asks, surprising me with the question.
I study his profile, the hard, uncompromising line of his jaw. The straight nose. The little bit of graying hair at his temple. He turns to me, and my heart skips a beat. He’s so beautiful especially when he lets me see him. When he lets me see into his soul.
My eyes mist and I shake my head.
I want this thing between us to be true. To be real. I want him to mean what he said. That he wants me. No matter what. I want him to choose me because I have chosen him. He’s a part of me. Inside of me. Inside my heart.
And he can break mine. Does he know how easily he can break mine?
“Why didn’t you confront Julia about her visit to Gerald Gibson?” I ask.
“Why didn’t you? That’s the more interesting question, don’t you think?”
I sigh, rotating to put my feet on the ground, to face the small, flickering flame. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. I’ve underestimated you.”
I turn to him. He smiles a weary smile.
“Her story was good,” he says. “Believable. She’s clever.”
“Like you,” I say. “I don’t think I’m as clever as either of you.”
“You are. And you’re kind, Isabelle. That’s something neither of us are.”
“But I’m not clever.”
“You are.”
I shrug. I’m not saying it for him to feel sorry for me. I’m saying it because it’s the truth.
“Does that mean you believe me about her?” he asks.
I look down at the closed notebook on my lap. I’ve had it forever. I keep all my notebooks with their random doodles and notes and poems and anything else that makes me feel.
I turn to face him. “What happens if your autopsy doesn’t reveal anything else?”
“It will.”
“What if it doesn’t? What then?”
He grits his jaw, looks away.
“And what if your DNA test proves what Julia claims. That Matty is Carlton’s son and the rightful heir to the Bishop throne.”
“Throne.” He snorts.
“What will you do, Jericho? What happens then?”
He sighs, turns to me. “I’m sending Angelique away with my mother and Dex. You should come in and say goodbye.” He stands.
“Why?” I ask, standing too. Surprised by this turn of events.
“Because I trust my instincts.”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know. Until this plays out. Until Julia Bishop makes her move.”
“What if there is no move to be made?”
“There is, Isabelle. You can trust me on that one. There is.”
The door swings open then, and we both turn to find Leontine in the doorway, an expression on her face I haven’t seen before. She’s flushed and out of breath.
“What is it?” Jericho asks, instantly on alert as he rushes to her.
She looks at me over his shoulder in a way I don’t quite understand. Not right away. Although I’ve never really had a great read on Leontine, I know she wants what’s best for Jericho and Angelique. I thought as far as Angelique was concerned, she knew of my love for her. She knows we want the same thing. Jericho and I, well, we’re more complicated.
“Mother?” Jericho asks, giving her a small shake.
She drags her gaze from me and doesn’t say anything. I realize she must be showing him something because Jericho looks down. There’s a moment of heavy silence before she finally speaks as they separate. Jericho turns to me studying whatever it is he has taken from her hands.
