“Mikala is fine. But you are a husband now. You must let her know where you are going. She has been out of her mind with worry when you didn’t return home that first night. Now here you show up almost a week later. You could at least have the decency to look wounded and not so hale and hearty.” “Thank you for those inspiring words, Grandmother. And I’m sure Kala barely knew I was gone.” At that moment he saw her step out of the door leading to the parlor. He noticed dark smudges under her eyes usually caused by lack of sleep. He walked over to her and rubbed the back of his fingers down her soft cheek. Gabe saw her flinch from his touch. “Worried about me?” “Don’t flatter yourself,” she denied. She refused to let him think that she had spent any night tossing and turning, worrying if he were alive or had met the same fate as Natalia. “What should I care if you want to get yourself killed playing spy?” “Playing?” She turned and walked to the piano across the room and began picking out a discordant tune. He winced at the anger behind the pounding on the keys. His grandmother motioned for him to join her in the hall out of Kala’s hearing.
